DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
TIMELINE: After "Hope". Poddie has been gone for awhile. Cordelia has yet to return from her "paid vacation."
SPOILERS: Erm, Angel Season two?
SYNOPSIS: Just when things seemed right again, Darla's back, and yucky-ness ensues :-)
DISTRIBUTION: After worshipping you, I'll say yes *g*
AUTHOR'S NOTES: It's been how many months? Jeepers. Sorry for the late sitch. Hopefully this new plot will give me the chance to tell the Darla story my way :-)
FEEDBACK: Please? It's what keeps me writing *cute little smile*.
RATING: PG-14
>>Havn't read any of the series yet? Check out http://www.redrival.com/glowbug/genbtvs.html for the rest :-) <<

"Almost ready..." I could feel a slight shift in the air ... her vibrations came off in the form of a rich yet devilishly arousing smirk "Okay. Open sesame."

She's endless paragraphs of bliss ... all wrapped up in the most sexually intense package I've ever laid my eyes upon.

It's funny how something as simple as a bikini can bring me to such a heightened orb of attention. The material was smooth ... a sensual play on the dim light, reflecting against each morsel of unique divinity. Her hips, the luscious bare skin that hugs her essence ... they call out to me. I was a slave to her body language, a slave to this magnificent figure which begged to be touched every second I was allowed to view its essential force.

Her legs have just enough muscle tone in them. They extend to her toes in a simple yet fantastic pathway of fairytale kisses and raw sexual desire. Slippery, desirable. They flex against the atmosphere, releasing cries of sheer helplessness from the raw energy that eats my throat and plagues the moments I'm forced outside of her.

Her stomach ... I could work on that particular portion for hours on end. It's one of my favorite blessing to nibble upon when we melt into one another. A belly button rounder than the sun ... one possessing both the utter femininity of a curvy woman and the simple pleasures of a young and adoring child. Sometimes I stroke its tender flesh with the very tip of my index finger, letting her lay deeply into the nook of my chest. I play with its curves, letting it speak to me, ... sing along with my touch. The young girl inside of her automatically tenses at my touch ... something hard for me to even conceive of. Buffy feeling any method of self-consciousness is something more painful to me then the raw fires of hell. It's so uncalled for ... so unbelievably sad. Sometimes I feel responsible for all of it.

"Shh ... " I whispered to the sensitive glow around her one evening. We had experienced one of the most intense bouts of love making to date. It was so hard on her ... hard in such a glorious way. She'd tire ... body limp, mentality in sheer awe from the simple fact that two souls could really let themselves become one being, completely and utterly to the core. Tears mixing like a sweet saltwater sensation would leak gloriously from the edges of her eyes. I pulled her protectively against my chest, caressing each body part, speaking to the vessel that held my lovers soul. She needed to understand the strength her other half felt for her ... the sheer passion of every moment as one united. So I held her, whispered soothingly in her ear as she sobbed. But her stomach ... she always tensed when I touched it. "No, Buffy. No..."

I slowly draped the comforter away from the deep contact of our bodies.

"Angel? What the ..."

Her body was slowly revealed to me in the gentle ebony of her copyrighted nudity. I won't even attempt an explanation. A bikini is one thing. Her naked form is a novel in itself.

"You're so beautiful" I whispered into the velvet surrounding her, "You never have to feel shy around me."

"Easy for you to say," she snorted, sneaking a glimpse at me in her own delighted matter.

I reached out to her stomach, wincing at its automatic tense, "Relax," I hummed, slowly climbing on top of her, "Just relax. You're a goddess, you know that?" I turned my gaze down at her form, making sure she spotted me soaking in every brilliant spark of her flesh.

She smacked me lightly on the shoulder, a smile growing wider on the ruby of her lips, "Stop it."

"Tell me that you're beautiful."

"Huh?"

"I'll stop when you tell me that you're beautiful," I leaned down to the flesh just above her breasts, letting the tip of my tongue taste its magic. The heaven of honey suckle and paradise all in one.

"Fine, 'you're beautiful' ", she teased, erupting into an exuberant patch of giggles.

"No," I smiled, nuzzling her neck in small worshipping pressures, "Try again."

"This is so ...*beyond* idiotic, Angel."

"It's a simple phrase."

"Fine, you know what...I give up. I'm beautiful. Happy?"

"Come on, Buffy ..."

She let the lashes of her eyes do something astounding with its movements. She leaned into my neck, suckling lightly. Something about the security her rhythm confiscated. I was lost in it.

"Now look who's speechless." "Angel? Hey ... earth to broody. Where'd you go off to?"

"Hmm?"

She laughed, climbing atop my eager lap, "You haven't told me if you liked it yet, silly."

"Liked ...?"

"The bikini," her finger tip gently caressed my cheek, eyes soaking up my undoubted and unconditional love, "I lost you there for a second."

"Mmm ...," I captured her lips into my embrace, massaging every morsel of her passage with my reply, "You look amazing."

**********

I'm a lucky man. Letting that phrase dance across the somber way I always seem to drift...it sound rather ironic. "Luck" is a funny word. Easily confused with "chance", in my opinion. In a perspective I held deadly against in eons prior, I would have considered it "luck" that my sire had found me when she did. That she had chosen my soul to write her sensuous wrath upon. I would have considered myself "blessed" to carry such a defiant reputation.

My existence was somewhat based on those facts alone. With Buffy ... nothing could ever make sense of my time in diabolical bondage. I see one mathematical *instant* of the type of innocence she bases her life on ...and everything else washes away. That event, in itself, isn't as easy as one might expect for a vampire with a soul. In my previous tenure as a "hybrid" sort of creature, I was anything but stark blood noble. A whisper ... some kind of melodious song ... would constantly tug at the ends of my mind. I'd think of my past with Darla, dream of the comfort that lay within her.

She had allowed me to marvel in what my father once detested with every ounce of his being. I was able to grasp the corners of my faults, and become my own sort of king in regards to them. Sitting alone in the beginning of the 20th century, watching the world through tainted eyelids ... nothing made sense without her.

With Buffy...everything makes sense, at every moment. For she gave me a gift I never thought I'd accept: shame at the notion of evil. I wake up some mornings, eyes adjusting to the quiet haze of twilight moving around the bedroom. For a moment ... just one moment ...I know nothing. My mind caves into a blank box with no decisions, choices, or opinions.

Then I hear it. The breathing.

She cuddles trustingly into the nook of my arm in the most ... sacred, sensual moment of the day. Then an unstoppable rush begins. The peak of something gentle ... something simple. The complexities of angst are non-existent. It's just two bodies of two adoring lovers ... hesitantly grasping onto one another.

"Angel."

It was but two months after our visit from Buffy's "twin" that a eager voice fractured my daily reverie. I consider myself quite tranquil when it comes to most humans. But some mannerisms just ... bring out other fronts.

"Wha .. .Cordelia, what are ...?"

"I need to talk to you. With clothes *on*." The brunette made an obvious display of disgust at the site of a very naked Buffy cuddled against me.

I sat up after a moment, glaring at her in the nicest way possible, "Cordy. Door."

"Oh! Right ..." she closed it in a microsecond, allowing me time to carefully detach my lover from her perch.

"Mmm," she stretched a single arm heavenwards, grabbing forcefully at my leg. In a humorous swoop, I found myself pulled heavily against her. Every temptation of every nook inside my soul bent harshly at the notion of what Cordelia was forcing me to miss.

"Buffy ..." I groaned into her neck, allowing her a minute to "explore" the lower portions of my body. "... Buffy I, I can't. Cordelia's back."

Her lips curled up into a tender little growl, pushing my flesh desperately against her own, "No Cordelia. *Buffy*."

I couldn't help but chuckle at her slumber-induced state, stroking her hair in repetitious machinations as somberly suckled her lower lip, "Tonight. I promise."

She smirked wondrously at my aroused state, rubbing harshly up against my body, "You better. You know how cranky I am when I don't get my way."

**********

"That was ... informative. And then there's the whole 'ick' factor attached to it ..."

"We weren't expecting you until tomorrow," I let my hand idly fidget against the sheer ebony of Cordelia's dinning room table. She looked extremely vibrant in her purple ensemble, and I couldn't help but smile at the maturity her recent haircut gave her. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah. Except for the fact that you and Nekkie have completely taken over my apartment."

"I know. And we're ... you know ... grateful that you've let us stay..."

"I kind of got that part by the groping."

"Is there something you wanted?" My eyes levitated towards her abrupt stance, grinning subtly to myself.

"Visions. You know, messages from the powers that be a pain in my ass, brought forth to save mankind ..."

"Cordelia?"

"Right. I saw you and Buffy having sex."

I stared blankly at her, desperately studying whatever thought had ruptured out of her mouth, "And that's ... that's what you came to tell me?"

"What? I don't get visions for free porn, Angel. It has to mean something."

"Like ... "

"Like for one, that girl has to stop borrowing my clothes. Slayers and vintage prada rip-offs do *not* mix. And two, my bedroom isn't Motel 6. I demand some kind of down payment for all NC-17 uses of *my* bed. It's just ... gross."

I forced back a chuckle, slowly approaching the brunette's slender shoulders, "Cordelia. I understand that you're upset about Buffy being a part of my life again. But making up visions isn't a way to solve that."

"*Excuse* me? Like hell I made it up! I practically O.D.'d on aspirin for an hour."

"Angel? What's going on?" A gentle string of vibrations began to drift around me, my lovers entrance leaving me out of unneeded breath for more than a moments time. She'd slipped one of my shirts over the cream of moist shoulders, eyeing my body with an adoring impatience.

"Cordelia had a vision," I answered in an amused fashion, a whiff of something smug passed over to the petite Seer.

"Oh God are you *not* funny." She grabbed her hand bag in a swift movement, pushing me harshly aside, "Fine, whatever. You guys have fun. Just don't blame me if some giant ...*thing* attacks you the next time you go all groiny."

"What is she ...?"Buffy was joining me in a sense of amusement, leaning casually against the wall.

"Darla," Cordelia let the word slip out from under her breath, "Who calls out that wacked pet name during sex?"

"What did you say?"

"You don't have to play dumb-vamp, I know about your ... nickname for Buffy's lord know what. I don't need, and I can't stress this enough, *want* to know what part that is.'

"Angel?" Buffy let her body retreat into a nervous state, slowly edging closer to my side.

"I don't know." I reached out to her glorious frame, letting a hand trace her cheek soothingly, "We'll figure it out."

"Anyone wanna jump in here?"

I turned slowly to the brunette "My sire."

The phrase was so simple, so compact. But standing next to the woman I shared my body with ... my soul? It seemed more complex then even the greatest strikes of pain.

**********

"Thank you."

A person's upbringing, I've come to notice, weighs heavily against his or her perspective in the kind of "luck" I've been pondering so substantially

Cordelia always wears makeup, at all hours of the day. It never ceases to amaze me. The new brands of color mark their own personality against her skin, making for a symbolic "second layer." She's spent her entire life in the clutches of 20th century royalty. And yet, her experiences of late have changed every ounce of her perspective.

She feels, deep down, the joy of having a real friend. Someone who gladly holds your life, and lets no harm come to pass below it. For a child who grows without this luxury, knows not the kind of peace it can bring. Even for a moment.

With me, it's somewhat different.

It sound hackneyed to those who live around me constantly, but I'd never been blessed with simple gestures as a human. When Buffy goes so far as to simply make me a cup of hot chocolate ... I get this nervously wonderful rush at the pit of my chest. It's an emotion, a split second of stretched understanding, that adds to my character as a whole.

And here she was, bringing me this cup of so many unspoken words, hair almost sparkling against the dull lamp light silhouetted her body. A large down sweater hugs the loose area abundant to her curves, and I couldn't help but feel that forbidden warmth as the edges of our fingertips touched in transferal.

"Don't spill it on yourself, it's on the extreme end of hot," she smiled, reaching out to rub a random neck muscle trapped within my body.

"What did I do to deserve this, tonight?"

"What didn't you do? All hell's in serious danger of doing that whole 'breaking loose' thing. And of course ... " she walked away carefully, rubbing the sofa's grained surface, "I can't do anything about it."

"You know that's not true."

"Angel ... we both know that as ... *this*, I'm useless to you. To the whole 'fight against bad guys' gig. I can't affect a fruit fly, it's part of the deal."

I sipped the drink she had prepared, relishing in the emotional backdrop her small body had unwillingly placed into it. My taste buds felt nothing, no physical or tangible effect. But a hidden part of me, too incomprehensible to even name, was bursting in a welcome way.

"Buffy ... there's another 'you' out there. Another 'you' taking care of that fight. It's not your fault."

She took my words inside for a beat.

"At least we get to be together," she almost hummed, brushing up against me, "Sometimes I get these feelings when we're together ... like I could die at that moment and be totally happy. It's perfect."

I let myself soak up that one invaluable second, holding her hand securely in my own, whispering the simple words that had changed my life no matter how you looked at it, "I love you."

Her eyes welled in a beautiful, silent bed. She simply sat below me, lovingly stroking my hand within her grasp, laying the crown of her glorious little head atop my lap. Her voice was a whisper into my soul, only stronger, and more vibrant.

"I love you, too."

**********

~

"Have you ever been unhappy, Lindsey?" Darla let her finger tremor down the side of the large window, eyeing her new reflection with reserved contempt.

"Is the sky blue?" he cracked aloud, shifting random papers around his desk.

"Why do you insist on locking those insipid things up? They mean nothing in the scheme of things."

He approached her slowly, enjoying the repertoire bouncing off of her delicate body, "Because I'm a lawyer, thus it's my job to be paranoid. And to answer your question; yes, I've been unhappy."

"I don't think anyone's ever *truely* content. Not the way the robes preach it," she smirked into the air, circling him in a calculated fashion, "Do you want to know why?"

"Enlighten me."

"Because life's a game. And we're playing it with ourselves. We don't realize this, of course, until our mind cream black and our corpses rot into the ground."

"Nice visual there," The lawyer chuckled, returning to the pile slipping across his oak throne.

The former vampire was able to slip into her own reverie, watching the skyline as if it were a spectacle for her own ideas, "Once you die, you realize the truth. When you become a vampire ... the void of 'God' becomes far more clear. And it's only then that you can play it right. That you can get any sort of pleasure from this twisted existence. It's what I learned ... it's what I taught my boy."

"You have my attention."

Darla swirled to face him, face distraught yet clear, "He's miserable. He's on the verge of something darker than death. And I'm the only one who can *truely* pull him back from it. The only one who can appeal to his ... inner self."

"Beautiful," Lindsey approached her personal space in an aroused state, watching her movements with a heightened interest, "And the slayer?"

"No more powerful than me, obviously. Vamping her will be the best move for all of us ... " she leaned into his ear, "Trust me. I'll take care of my darling, you get the vampire to Buffy."

~

"Angel? Wake up, you're dreaming." my lover stroked my locks of hair, staring at my shaking body, "What is it?"

"Darla," I whispered into the air, squeezing her hand until I could swear we joined bodies, "She's alive. She knows you're here. And she wants you dead."

**********

"This is all ... very much *impossible*, Angel. It's against all the laws of physics. Not to mention metaphysics, in this case," Wesley paced the livingrooms quarters, eyes tense and focused, "Dreaming about her isn't proof."

"It was more then a dream. She's alive. I could feel it, Wesley."

"I told you I had a vision" Cordelia murmured to herself, stroking her hair behind the tips of her earlobes, "It must have been Darla I saw with you. The blond sitch just equaled 'Oh gee, it's Buffy' to me."

"That doesn't make any sense," Buffy crossed over to the brunette, sitting firmly beside her, "Angel told me that your visions were like premonitions ... that they show you something that's *going* to happen."

"Your point being?"

"My point being that I'll dance the tango with *satan* before Angel hooks up with that hussy."

"Buffy, ... you know I'm not going to let that happen. I'm getting her from Wolfram and Hart tonight."

"Like hell you are!" Cordelia stormed to my side, darts shooting out of her expression, "And have those stake-happy freaks kill you? Great plan."

"Cordelia's right ... storming the firm won't do any good, " The former watcher looked somberly at his friend, speaking volumes into his eyes, "We don't even know if your dream was real."

"I trust Angel," I heard Buffy's soft voice announce. I couldn't help but smile at her firm stance, at the way she came to me, reaching out every ounce of support, "If he thinks she's alive, I say we take action."

"And what exactly are you gonna do? Tell jokes to distract them while Angel gets tortured? How 'bout not."

"Cordelia ... "

"What? It's the truth, isn't it? I mean God, no offense, but Buffy can't do a damn thing about this! She's powerless, remember?"

"Gee. Thanks for the support, Cor. Go team," My lover sunk into an arm chair, rubbing her arms in an impulsive fashion.

"This isn't getting us anywhere. Wesley, you and Cordy find out everything you can about where they might be keeping Darla. I need to stay here and protect Buffy. Come back the minute you find something. Then you can watch over her until I get back."

"Back from doing what?"

"Ending this."

**********

I'll never forget the stench of Darla's living arrangements.

Cordelia and Wesley had found the number, and resumed my role as Buffy's temporary protector. It was on my hands ... the blood, the brawn. Every action that could and would take place.

She had always liked vanilla.

Even now, the walls spoke to me with their elicit scent. The voice of a woman who wanted to give me something I could never touch again.

"I must say, you've done well," Her voice manifested from the shadows, nearing me by the moment, "Who found out where I lived? You or the stooges?"

"Shut up," was my simple retort, eyeing everything she represented with a new found contempt.

"Is that any way to talk to the woman who gave you life?"

I chuckled to myself, playing her own game on new terms, "Gave me life, eh? Funny. Last time I checked, you left me with more frustration than I could ever keep track of."

"Funny."

"I try. So what's the plan? You get Buffy, pull me over to your warped little world?"

"Something like that."

"Who came up with that? You or the humans you work for?"

She snarled at me subconsciously, eyeing my body like a drug, a piece of meat, "I work for no one. Nobody knows the 'values' I do."

"I can think of a few thing you'll never know."

"Let me guess. Muffy, or whatever the hell her name is, taught you everything. Correct? She makes you 'happy'?"

"Guess you know something after all."

She laughed, lifting herself onto a nearby chair, "You have no idea."

"Cut the crap, Darla," I found myself erupting, my mind beginning to spin, "I'm hear to make sure you don't get within five feet of Buffy. I pull your heart out with my bare hands before I let that happen."

"Then why haven't you? You killed me once ... snuffed out your only chance for freedom . Are you prepared to give that up again?"

"If it means saving my *lover*? You'd be surprised what I'm capable of."

"Same here," she thrust a solid piece of wood into my shoulder, shaking at the sight of poetic red dripping along the side of my body, "Ponder that before I come back."

**********

"You let her go?"

Buffy let her arms draped delicately over me, inspecting every ounce of flesh with one glance.

"She got away from me after the stake. But this isn't the end, Buffy. I don't want you to think that I can't ... "

"Shh," she dragged her index finger atop my lip, her inviting, pink tongue seeking to massage my own, "Forget about her now. You need a warm bath. Hmm?"

Heaven.

She, in essence, took care of me that night. Rubbed into my skin, letting her small little hands run soft against my defenses. She kissed me with every heartbeat and every ounce of trust that throbbed within her. I was the most important part of her soul at that moment, the most sacred being to her heart. And for the first time in my life, my muscles were able to run limp. I was able to put my head back, let her run deep into my mind, and leave my welfare completely and utterly in her hands.

This is life.

This is the reason for existence.

I knew that forces of pain were knocking on our backs, begging to come in. But I let her bring forth my reserve ... pull away any depression that threatened to enter.

Because beyond the death, the pain that stabs into our wounds with sweat and sadness ...

I was still the luckiest creature on earth.

Send feedback to SealedNFate

Back to the Fanfiction Archive