Rating: R
Disclaimer: All things BtVS and AtS belong to Joss and/or whomever is currently claiming responsibility for them. The song "Thank You" is performed by Dido.
Distribution: A Witch's Love, Near Her Always, Willow's Lil Secret and anyone else who already has my stuff. If you don't have previous permission please ask first.
Summary: For Bad Wic on her birthday. (Yeah I know it's a little early). Little darker than I meant it to be - but when my muse speaks I must write *grin*
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I knew when I woke up this morning that things were going to be great. I mean, why wouldn't they be? I lost that pesky soul thanks to those damned lawyers at that stupid little law firm last night. Even had that annoying pansy Lindsey for dinner right afterwards. Should have seen him trying to beat me off with that stump of his. I made him watch as I ripped off his other hand. Might as well have a matching set.
I even made it halfway to Sunnydale before sunrise made me hole up in this shitty little hotel. Sunnydale. The Slayer. The Moron. The Former Demon. The Watcher. They'd all be crying out for mercy before too long. And if they didn't scream? They'd still die. But oh.how could I forget?
My Witch.
She's there, toiling away in virtual slavery to that stupid bimbo my souled self called his soulmate. Does she know I'm free again?
Does it matter?
She won't run. No, my precious little red head learned quite early on that running only leads to pain beyond measure. She'd much rather take her pain with a grain of pleasure. At least - that's how she liked it once upon a time ago before she cursed me again. Ok. So I wasn't in my right mind back then. I don't blame her for trying to stop me. But cursing me? Again? That was a bad thing.
And she'll pay for it. She'll scream. But the screams will always end in my name. Angelus. Her lover. Her master. The one she promised her eternal devotion to. I won't make the mistakes I made last time and so she won't be forced to stop me again. Who can really blame her for not wanting me to send the world to Hell in the first place? It would have pretty much put an end to all my fun for sure. Pretty obvious I didn't think that one through.
So maybe I won't be *too* hard on her. After all, she has been forced to play nice with those annoying twits she once called friends. That's right. 'Once called.' As in - no longer. As in - not for a long time. I opened her eyes back then, showed her how bad she was being used, made her see the darkness she had inside of her. I knew then what they all know now, that she's a powerful creature. Much too powerful and dark to ever play on the side of good. So she almost got the Slayer's kid sister killed. Boo fucking hoo. Who really cares? Wouldn't the world be better with one less sniveling brat in it?
But nooOooOoo. Slutty didn't think so. She reprimanded my little witch. Condemned her for her actions. How dare she. Doesn't she know who Willow is? Of course not. If she knew she'd kill my darling one. She'd probably stake her just for the hell of it. Buffy will pay for her actions once I have Willow back at my side. She'll see how badly she fucked up. But by then it will be too late.
She'll be dead.
The road is speeding by now. Eighty-five miles an hour and climbing. I pity the fool of a cop that dares to try to pull me over. Dinner anyone? ETA on Sunnydale - two hours.
~*~*~
The song on the radio reminds me of better times. Times when I had someone who loved me. Oh - I don't me love like that pathetic crap Oz gave me. He just wanted to get in my pants. He didn't really care. No - if he had cared he never would have cheated on me with that bitch. A literal bitch nonetheless. Oh, I cried and played the part everyone thought I should - the depressed dumped girlfriend. It was what Buffy and Xander expected of me. So I did it. But did I really give a damn?
Nope. Not one bit.
Love. I'm talking about the real kind. The kind that makes you hurt inside when you can't be with the other person. The type of love that makes you ache with longing, with passion, with pent up emotion. The kind that I had with my dark haired Angel of death. My Angelus. The kind of love that was meant to be - two kindred hearts meeting. Note - I didn't say 'kindred souls' - he has no soul in his true form and I *like* it like that. Souls just get in the way. Take me for instance - it's taken me all these years to even start learning how to live for the moment and ignore the rantings of my soul. Who really needs one of those pesky things anyway?
***My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all The morning rain clouds up my window and I can't see at all And even if I could it'd all be grey, but your picture on my wall It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad***
Picture on the wall? Yeah - this song hits a little too close to home. I still have one of your pictures on my wall. Buffy thinks it was something you did as a 'Thank you' after you came back from Hell. Only I know better - it was a present you gave me after our first night together. The picture only shows my head, smiling sleepily. No one knows I was naked and in your bed when it was done. I look sleepy because we had just spent the entire night fucking.
Great. Someone's at the door. Can't they just leave me alone? I don't really want visitors.
Oh my.
"Angel?" I know even as I ask the question that it's not that pussy of a soul that ran around in your body for so long. No - this is the real thing. You're wearing those pants I love so much and one of those silky shirts with the buttons undone enough to show a little of your chest.
"Not hardly, sweets."
My heart speeds up and I can feel myself already getting hot from the looks you're giving my body. "Goodie.Come in?" I don't care how you got to be here, on my doorstep. I don't care why you're back. All I hope is that you're not whacked out like last time and trying to send the world to hell *and* that this is permanent. I don't want Buffy taking you from me with that stupid little curse. She insisted on keeping a copy of it - 'just in case.'
Bitch.
I get to watch your ass as you walk from my balcony and into my room. Leather looks good on you. Always has and always will. You're not the cotton type, are you? You're all about sexuality. Speaking of sexuality.. "Miss me?"
"Of course."
Your mouth is hard, rough. I can feel your teeth biting into my tongue as you abandon all pretense at keeping up your human façade. You don't need that mask with me, after all. I prefer the real you. I raise my hands to feel the ridges on your face, my body aching to feel more than just that. I can tell, as your hands come up to caress me through my shirt, that you want more, too.
It doesn't take long that first time for us to reach climatic screaming. So we do it again, and again, and then one more time for good measure. Damn how I forgot how good this feels.
Once we're done, sated for the moment, you start telling me your plans. The killing. The maiming. The torture. Pain and pleasure. Devious plots that will get back at all of Them for what they've done to both of us over the years. It will be fun. No turning for me, though. Not yet. Not for a while. Why turn me when I'm so much nicer all alive and well? Who knows if my magicks would leave me if you did that. And we both like my magick, don't we? Especially that little bit of a rhyme that lets us share what one another feels? Doesn't that feel the best when I cum and then you cum and it all spirals out of control?
Yeah - we don't want to lose that.
You snuggle in, licking the wounds you made on my neck only a few minutes ago. You whisper, 'Mine', and then you're out like a light. Poor baby. This whole losing your soul thing must be exhausting. I close my eyes, willing myself to get some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day for us, to be sure. Places to go, people to kill. Days full of blood and sex.
But this day? This had to be the best day of my life.
~*~The End~*~