DISCLAIMER: Not mine, don't sue.
TIMELINE: Now, or a few weeks in the future.
SPOILERS: All of Buffy (especially S5), and Angel
SYNOPSIS: Angelus finds out that Riley's got a new thing for vampires. *Grin*
DISTRIBUTION: Feel free, just please let me know where it's going!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: JUST KILL THAT MORON ALREADY! I'm so very bored with this "Riley is so depressed that he's obsessed with vamps" storyline! A quickfic I wrote like 15 minutes ago.
FEEDBACK: Only if it's good. *grin*
RATING: R for language. It is Angelus, after all...
**Unbeta-ed. Just whipped this up for your amusement!**

It's been way too long since I felt this -- the call of the night. Of the hunt. After months of trying to break free as the idiot Soul got progressively more lost and confused, I finally did it.

Thanks to my lovely Sire. Who is, I might add, dead. Really dead. Disrespectful of me? Perhaps. But I've grown far beyond my little dalliance with Darla. I've got no time for rehashing the past. So instead of making her my mate once more, as she begged me to do, I made her my celebratory meal.

She was delicious.

Now I've got other blondes on my mind. So much time to make up for. So many debts to repay. I hardly know where to begin. It's all I can do not to break into song as I barrel down the highway toward Sunnydale.

Gotta give the Soul some credit... I like this car.

It'll be easy to find her. I know her mother's sick, so she'll either be at the hospital, or home taking care of the sister everyone all of a sudden insists she has. I've waited far too long to take her. Tonight, at long last, she'll be mine.

She can have that juicy little sister as her first meal.

God damn! It gets me hard as a rock just thinking about it.

I go to the hospital first. Not only is Buffy not there, but it would seem her mother's checked out, as well. Interesting. The young lady behind the administration desk is more than willing to help the handsome "old friend" of the Summers family. She is also happy to give me a warm, flirtatious smile along with all the information I need.

She's damned tasty, too.

I decide to walk to the Slayer's house from here. Nice autumn night... haven't been around the old 'Dale in a while, so I might as well check things out before the main event. Maybe I'll come back here and make this my base of operations again. The Hellmouth gives me such a charge, and my mate will probably get a big kick out of terrorizing this place by my side -- poetic irony and all.

I smell blood. Stop, sniff the wind... It's not the hot flesh of a kill, it's tinged with a weird tang of sex. Some bizarre mixture of fear and twisted passion, and a scent I know all too well: obsession. Somebody's loving being eaten. I've heard tell about these "donor" types over the past decade or so. I make a mental note to go out and get me a couple. Imagine -- willing victims. Man, how the world has changed. Might be an interesting change of pace.

But there's something else on the wind. There's a slight undercurrent of insanity in the bloodscent, but that's not it. It's the aroma of this particular human itself that bugs me. So familiar, and yet... strange... It invokes a rage in my blood that I can't even begin to remember the cause of.

Could it be? A human that the Soul actually hates?

I can't fucking believe it! I start toward the place where the scent originates -- a crypt in the nearby cemetery. I roll the sensory cues around in my mind, trying to identify the "victim", but it's not quite coming. Their anger and hatred, though, is as sweet as anything else I've ingested this night.

I peek in the doorway, which the lovers have left slightly ajar. When I see who it is, I've just got to laugh.

God damn it's good to be free!

I shove the crypt door out of my way and step inside. The female looks up at me, her eyes wide, fangs bloody. I pay her no mind -- she's barely a couple of days out of the grave. I indicate with a nod that she should get gone. She does. There's no doubt who's master, here.

I look down at the boy. What a pathetic piece of shit. He stinks like booze, like sex, like blood, but most of all, like jealous, irrational obsession. His eyes are closed, but he's not dead. I can hear his heartbeat as clearly as the night wind whistling through the cracks in the crypt's foundation.

I kick him. I can't help it. Now that I'm looking at him, I remember exactly why the Soul hates him so much.

This dead man has been fucking my woman.

His eyes jerk open and light upon me. He's wide awake, now... with terror.

As it should be, considering I'm about two seconds from ripping his boy-next-door head off his no-neck body.

But... I find that this little scene has piqued my curiosity. Just what the hell is the wholesome fuck toy of the Slayer doing playing drinking fountain for some blood-sucking whore?

"What are you doing here?" he spits at me, struggling drunkenly to his feet.

I laugh. "I think that's probably the sort of question I ought to be asking you, isn't it?"

Riley brushes the tomb dust off his jeans, but says nothing.

I can't possibly pass this up. "I wonder what Buffy would think about your little hobby?"

His gaze flies up to mine. "You wouldn't."

I take a step closer, giving him my very prettiest smile. "Oh... wouldn't I? Yes. I believe I would. In fact, I can hardly wait to tell her."

He grabs me. GRABS ME. For a moment, I'm so shocked at the sheer balls of the act, I stare down at his hand on my arm. Then I look at him once more, and this time, I'm not smiling. He immediately lets go, but doesn't move away.

"You can't! Please! She has too much going on right now. She... I know you love her. Don't hurt her like this. Not now."

Oh. I get it. He thinks I'm Angel. I suppress the urge to start laughing again. Can this kid get any more stupid? I'm almost tempted just to leave him here and let his little obsession kill him.

Nah. This is way too much fun.

"Why shouldn't I, Riley?" I put on my best insipid Whiney Boy brooding face, and pace slowly before him. "Don't you think Buffy has a right to know that you're... sleeping with the enemy, so to speak? I don't think she'll be too pleased."

"Angel..." he says, his voice suddenly taking on a dangerous, warning tone that's even funnier than anything else he's done so far. "It's your goddamn FAULT she doesn't love me! Why she's so goddamn OBSESSED with VAMPIRES! Just... mind your own business."

Vampires? PLURAL vampires? I'm suddenly SO far less pleased than I was a moment ago.

"Actually, this is my business. She's my mate. She bears my mark. And what the Hell do you mean, vampireS?"

A wry, bitter little grin slides across his face. "Not just your mark anymore, buddy. Add Dracula... and now Spike..."

"SPIKE?!" I bellow, unable to contain the flash of rage in me at the notion. I grab him hard by the collar, let my fangs show, and haul him off the floor. "SPIKE'S HAD HIS FANGS IN MY WOMAN?!" I roar.

Man, I'm just losing it.

He's shuddering in my grasp, but he's keeping a pretty decent poker face. "Looks that way. Thought I'd find out what the big attraction is. Frankly, I don't get it."

I calm, just a little. "Well... if you wanted to know, Riley... all you had to do was ask."

Fuck this. I rip his throat out and suck him dry in two seconds flat.

"How do you like that for bloodplay, buddy?" I ask his dead body.

I haul him over my shoulder and head out again.

Spike. Spike drank my woman. Touched my mate. That's it. After I dump this piece of shit's body on Buffy's doorstep, me and my intrepid grandchilde are gonna have a little talk.

Buffy can wait until tomorrow night.

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