Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: While I have taken the liberty of adding a few characters of my own creation, all of the original BtVS characters and their world belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and The WB. "Black" is performed by the incomparable Sarah McLachlan. All are used without permission (I'll return them all unharmed) and no copyright infringement is intended (like most who post, I'm broke, so please don't sue).
Spoilers: All 3 seasons of BtVS. Summary: It's the year 2047 and Aishling Rosenberg has recently discovered that her grandmother left behind a vast collection of letters, stories, research notes, etc.
Distribution: You want it, it's yours, just let me know where it's going to be living. Feedback: It's always of the good and I live for it!
Dedication: To Tere, in thanks for the wonderful birthday fic she wrote for me. She practically wrapped Angel up in a bow and gave him to me! And I'm so glad she and Spike came to the party, too!
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I bent and retrieved my shoes. Upon rising, I stepped forward and without another thought I slipped my hand into Angel's and allowed him to lead me into the house. His hand was unusually warm. I chalked it up to "afterglow". I know I was still hot.
Without ever glancing back, Angel pulled me along. Our first stop was the stereo system where, mercifully, he put an end to the constant replaying of "Black". A blessed silence ensued. I don't think I will ever again be able to listen to that song. To do so would conjure up so many conflicting images, it would surely drive me mad!
Our next stop was the long table behind the sofa. Angel released my hand long enough to light the candles that sat upon the table, then blindly reached out for me. I gave him my hand once again.
Without uttering a single word, he led me to the middle of the great room. What he did next took me completely by surprise.
He turned with lightening fast speed and pulled me into his embrace.
I had been certain he would brood. When didn't he? Guilt and recrimination, I had counted upon. I feared the disgust and loathing he might feel, or worse yet, his complete withdrawal. But a rapid rekindling of the unbidden passion between us? That I never expected.
Angel's mouth came down upon mine, his tongue demanding entrance. I resisted. For about two seconds. I tossed my wet shoes aside and then I was indulging once more in the delectable flavor of his mouth. The kiss quickly became so deep, so hungry that I feared we might actually draw blood and completely devour one another. I wanted it, I wanted to taste his blood again. That thought scared me senseless. Angel's bloodlust I could understand, but where had my sudden craving come from? It was unnatural, it was inhuman. And I was still very much human. Wasn't I?
He must have felt my rising fear. No, being the beast that he is, Angel could smell it like Oz always could.
As quickly as he had drawn me into his arms and started kissing me, Angel tore his mouth from mine and pushed me away.
My head was spinning now, my mind awhirl with even more discordant thoughts than before. Conflicting emotions were pulling my heart strings in so many different directions, I feared that they would soon begin to break.
He really hadn't pushed me very hard, or very far. I had stumbled back perhaps a step or two. It was more of a dramatic gesture. But Angel had taken a few backward steps of his own, putting some real distance between us. His emotional walls were coming back up, too.
Angel just stood there looking completely dejected. And yet something about his posturing struck me as being comical. He looked like a little boy who'd just been chastised for doing something naughty. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets, his head hung low. If I were to bend down and gaze up into his face, I half expected to see a pouty little lower lip, and I felt that at any moment he would begin to drag one of his bare feet across the stone floor, petulantly kicking at non-existant pebbles. His hair was tousled, having been mussed by my own greedy fingers, fingers that now longed to stroke his head, to repair the damage done to both his hairdo and his psyche.
Heal him. That's what the voice inside me said. Help him to heal himself. That's what my role was to be at this time. Whether that meant I was to give myself to him physically, or to simply open up my heart to him, I wasn't sure. I could only keep going with what I felt, let the inner voices guide me.
"What's wrong?" I asked him, thankful that my voice, for once, wasn't soft or mousy or stammering.
Angel did in fact stub his toes into the floor, seeming to have the need to purposefully cause himself some physical pain. Maybe it helped him to focus. Maybe he's just a glutton for punishment. Real surprise there, hunh?
"This is *wrong*!" he practically shouted at me.
His head shot up and he looked at me with eyes that sparkled like rubies, they were so full bloody tears that had yet to escape. There was very light in the room, all of it behind him. I could see his eyes shimmer because they radiated a golden light all their own.
Angel tipped his head toward the door that led to the garden.
"What we did out there," he continued, "that was wrong. What I still want to do with you, for you, to you, it's all fucking wrong!"
I was shocked! I think that was the first time I'd ever heard Angel utter a foul word. How bizarre, the things that register in our minds when our thoughts should be focused elsewhere.
I could tell by the way the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunched, that he was clenching and unclenching his fists, which were still shoved in his pockets. He kept balling them so tight, he was probably drawing blood. He'd zipped-up his fly, but hadn't bothered to refasten the button. His actions had caused his pants to slide a bit further down on his hips. I could see the fine line of dark, downy hair that started just below his naval and traveled down toward...oh my. He wasn't just hiding his fists in his pockets, he was trying to conceal the erection he still had in spite of the negative feelings he was expressing. I felt my womb contract and the moisture began to flow once again between my thighs. God, I lusted after him so! The intensity of my feels caused my fear to rise another notch.
"You're afraid of me," Angel said softly.
"Don't flatter yourself, demon. I'm not afraid of you. I am, however, scared shitless by the other feelings I have, feelings I can't even begin to understand yet, much less try to explain. But I know I want this...this...whatever it is, no matter how wrong it may be."
"You *want* to be with me?," he asked incredulously. "You came here to be with *me*?"
"I didn't come here to be with *anyone*. I came up here to get away from my parents. I was as surprised to see you here, as you were to see me. Shocked, is probably a better word. You got caught in the act, mister. I've never seen you like that before. Well, at least not with your soul in place. And don't go jumping to conclusions. You suck at that! Yes, I was a bit scared by what I saw, but I was also excited by it. It thrilled me to see you in your true form. The power that comes off of you when you're not hiding is so *strong*. You do have a cruel streak, there's no denying that. But so what? Lots of little boys pulled the wings off of flies--"
"Willow," Angel interrupted, "you can't even begin to compare what I've done to the harmless actions of little boys!"
"Harmless to whom? Do you think the flies don't suffer simply because they're insects? Didn't those rats suffer while you toyed with them? When a vampire feeds, do they think that the human doesn't suffer? No, they don't think that. They simply don't care. *You* didn't care. That whole guilt and self-inflicted suffering thing worked great for you the first time around, but it just doesn't cut it this time, does it? I think your time in a hell not of your own making changed all that. You are not a little boy and you are *not* human. Flies and rats aren't going to do it for you. I know that feeding from humans is out of the question, but we're going to have to find something, some way for you to vent. We need to explore what you've become and what you want to grow up to be, Angelus."
"We?" he asked cautiously, a hint of hope in his voice.
"Yes, *we*. I don't know how or why, but we're bound to one another. You feel it, too. I know you do. My need to come here that night, after our graduation, that was a part of it. That picture you drew of me and the twelve others, you were there in that dream. But it wasn't a simple dream. Was it a Beltane from long ago, or one which is yet to come?"
Angel just stared at me, unable to voice a single thought of his own. Which was okay, I guess. I seemed to have enough for both of us!
"All I know," I continued, "is that when I'm with you, my heart is much stronger than when I'm away from you. When I'm with you, I'm suddenly wiser than I have any right to be. But, Angelus, when I'm with you, my soul feels *so* old, ancient in a fact, and that scares me. It makes we question who I am, who I was?"
"You mean, "Who we were," don't you?"
"Yes."
"Why do you keep calling me Angelus?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't even realize I had. It just comes out. It feels right. Why do you want to be called Angel?"
After a few moments of silence it was readily apparent that no answer was forthcoming. Not that I'd really expected him to give me one. I had asked the question simply because it was one aspect of his duality that would have to be explored. Our parents give us a name when we're born. Friends and family may bestow nicknames upon us. But the name we chose to use in our adult life, says alot about who we are. And just who was this creature before me? Angel or Angelus?
We just stood there, in silence, staring at one another, each of us with our own thoughts, each of us waiting for the other to make the next move.
I couldn't help but wonder how many women had their hearts broken by this beautiful creature. How many more had their hearts drained? Angel had, on occasion, alluded to that fact that as a mortal he had been a bit of a rogue. I think he understated his prowess. I'm quite certain that he was a womanizing cad. But he was beautiful and the demon held onto that beauty, perfecting perhaps, using it to his advantage.
His fresh tears had never been shed and at some point, during the course of our conversation, his eyes turned brown once again. Sometimes I think it must be wonderful to have eyes you can hide so much behind. My own eyes always seem to betray me. And yet, I knew Angel's eyes could be the windows to his soul, if he chose to let you look inside.
I think my blatant ogling was unsettling him a bit. His tongue kept darting out to moisten his lips. A nervous habit? Who cares. It made his lips look ripe. They are so tempting. His lips are a dusky rose color, and I know that they have the texture of a petal from that very same flower. I could remember all too well just how they had felt when they were pressed to my own lips, when they had closed around my nipples. I wanted to know what the lips of his mouth would feel like as they were pressed against the lips of my sex. How would his velvet tongue feel there? I was so wet, there was no point in trying to deny my arousal.
"I want you," I said, shocked by the husky sound of my own voice, so thick with wanton lust.
Angel had started worrying his lower lip. He just shook his head.
"You know I want you. You can smell it. You can smell my arousal. And you've felt it. You've had your lips on my skin, you've had your fingers inside my body."
His lips parted then and I knew he was using his mouth to draw in my scent and that only made me want him more.
Angel's hands had yet to leave his pockets but I could see that he was stroking himself. It was so damn sexy. I'd never seen a man do that before. Now I was the one licking their lips. I couldn't help it. I was practically panting and they were dry. My whole mouth had gone dry and my next words came out sounding strangled.
"Can I help you with that?"
For a split second, even with his face half hidden in shadows, I thought I saw the impossible. I thought I saw him blush. Then Angel shook his head again. He still didn't say a word, but his eyes smiled at me now. They sparkled and crinkled at the outer corners.
So, he wanted to play with me, did he? I quickly took on the role of an ingenue, which wasn't much of a stretch at the time. I made my eyes go all round and glassy. I knew my lust had already made them go to a darker shade of green. I licked my lips once more and pouted, my lower lip quivering as I spoke.
"Don't you want me?" I asked, my voice soft and trembling.
"Oh, I want you," Angel growled. "But..."
He wasn't just playing with me. There was real hesitation in his voice. I dropped the act. Now was the time for a bit more honesty.
"You know," I said, taking two steps forward. "A wise woman once told me that 'want' isn't always the right thing *to* do. To act on want can be wrong."
Angel lips smiled now, a rueful smile. She'd never repeated those words to him, but Angel knew Buffy was the one who had spoken them. I'm quite certain he even knew when.
"True," he said, shocking me by echoing the exact word I'd used.
"But... to *not* act on want..." I continued. "What if I never feel this way again?"
"Why do you want me, Willow? There's another man out there, a man who loves you, a man--"
"A *man*. I don't want another *man*. I want you."
Then he did it. Right before my eyes, Angel changed. Gone was the beauteous human visage that he wore more often than he wore his true face.
My vision clouded for just a moment before my tears began to fall. I'd seen him dying and in pain and still he'd clung to the mask because he'd thought that Buffy was near.
A vampire stood before me now, but he was still beautiful because his change had been a conscious act and he stood there with pride. For Angel to do this for me spoke of an understanding, a trust we shared which he and Buffy never had.
Angel took three long strides forward and turned so that his face was no longer in the shadows.
"Is this what you want, Willow?" Angel's voice was harsh, his words a bit distorted, sort of a lisp caused by his fangs, but he wasn't speaking in anger or in fear.
"It's
what you are," I replied. "Of course I want you like this. But I'll take
you anyway you want to give yourself to me."
I slowly, but deliberately walked toward him. It was as if some great puppeteer in the sky was pulling our strings, because as soon as we were near enough to one another, we each reached out to caress the other's face.
"But why do you want me, Angel?" I asked him as my fingers continued to slide about his face, exploring the new texture, the new curves.
"Because I know you'll touch me when I look like this, and you'd let me touch you when I look like this."
Angel's choice of words confused me. I knew Buffy had seen him in his "game face", as she called it. I knew she'd even touched him when he'd worn it. How was what I was doing any different? Angel tried to explain.
"The first time Buffy saw my true face, she screamed in fear. Have you ever heard her scream in fear when she encountered a vampire?"
I just shook my head slightly. Buffy almost always seemed fearless in the face of danger.
"Neither had I. And it didn't matter that I'd never hurt her, that all I'd ever done was try to help her, to protect her. I'd spent the previous night fighting The Three for her, then sleeping like a guard dog on the floor beside her bed. I screwed up. I got carried away and I kissed her. I loved her. She was beautiful and the first woman I'd kissed in more years than you can possibly imagine. That alone might have brought on the change." Angel paused, shaking his head as he seemed to try and decide what to say next. "But there was more to it than that."
That's all he would say, at least for the moment. He gave me this quirky little half smile he has. It looked even more lopsided than usual because of his fangs. He was laughing at me, I realized. It couldn't be helped. I was still running my fingers all around his face. I was touching him with both hands now. I was simply amazed. Aside from the mouth full of fangs that seem to materialize out of nowhere, there was very little about his facial bone structure that actually 'changed'. Already existing angles, curves and plains just seemed to become more pronounced. The color of his skin was obviously altered, but the appearance of its texture was deceptive, like a snake's skin. It looked like it was rougher, drier, but it wasn't. It was still so smooth. And the color is, well, I found it to be a very sensual color. It's earthy, almost a welcome change compared to the unnatural pallor of his human guise. I was running my fingers along his bottom lip when he surprised me by nipping at the tips with his fangs.
"Hey," I squealed, pulling my hands away from his hungry mouth. Big mistake because it gave him the room he needed to dip in and capture my lips instead. The kiss wasn't tentative, but it was tender. And much too short, damn it!
Angel pulled back a little and started to speak again.
"The first time Buffy touched my face, it was much like you were just doing. Only she wasn't looking for the same things, she wasn't seeing whatever it is you see. I was embarrassed to have her see me this way, to have her touching me. We'd just put down a member of The Order of Taraka and I had a cut on my cheek from his ring. She was just trying to tend to it, to soothe me. But her touch had much the opposite effect. I remember mumbling something about not wanting her to touch me when I look like this and do you know what she said to me, Willow?"
I shook my head, no.
"She said she didn't even notice. I suppose she thought that statement was true enough and that it would please me. But it didn't. She wasn't seeing me for all the wrong reasons."
"Buffy can't see you, Angel. She fell in love with you before she knew you were a vampire. But she's a Slayer. In order to keep loving you, she can only allow herself to see the vestige of your humanity that still rests with your soul. For her to acknowledge what you truly are would mean the death of her love for you. And perhaps your own death as well."
"You see me, Willow," he cried softly. "You've always seen me, no matter which face I wear. And you accepted me anyway, tried your best to make me feel welcome, until I broke that budding trust between us. I blew it in a big way. Still you're here now and you're wanting me and you're touching me and you're seeing *me*. That's why I want you. But you and Buffy have both said it, now. To act on want isn't always the right thing to do."
I smiled at him then, a seductive smile I hoped, because I wanted to change the course of the conversation. We'd had enough words. We had honesty and understanding. Now I wanted to go back to feeling. And not to the kind of feeling you do with your heart. I'd had enough of that for the moment, too. No, I wanted to go back to the kind of feeling you do with your hands, and your mouth, and all those wonderful tingly places on your body.
I slipped my fingers up into his hair, the love-tangled hair I'd been dying to stroke for way too long now. I started combing it with my nails, taming it the way I hoped to tame the demon in my arms.
"Well, I for one, sir, am not about to leave here and go running off to tell *anyone* else what happens between the two of us. Somehow I don't think any of them would understand this. Hell, we don't fully understand this...this...whatever it is. How the hell are we supposed to explain it them? For the rest of tonight, let's not think too much, okay? Let's just go with what we feel."
I placed a soft kiss on his chest, right over the spot where I'd bitten him earlier. It was healing now, no longer bleeding, but still discolored and tender. Angel hissed at first, but when dragged my tongue across his nipple, he gave up one of those deep rumbling noises that made my juices flow.
"And right now," I said, between licks and kisses and nips, "I'd like to feel you touching me. And I'd like to touch you again, to give you pleasure and--"
"The curse, Willow, what about the curse?" Angel groaned, his fear winning out over his desire for what I offered him.
I was a bit shocked by his sudden concern. I mean, after what had transpired between us out in the garden, what was there for him to fear? We'd pleasured each other, brought each other to climax. He'd had his sexual release and his soul was still very much intact. The only physical difference between what we had done and what he and Buffy had done was that he hadn't penetrated me. I might never allow him to do that. But it was a personal choice, an arbitrary boundary I was placing on our relationship, simply because I felt that allowing him to come inside of me would place a much different meaning on our relationship than what I wanted it have at that point in time. He couldn't possibly think that it was the act itself that was responsible for his soul being lost.
*Could he?*
"Angel," I gasped. "You don't think you lost your soul simply because you has sex with Buffy, do you?"
I was amazed to see him hang his head and shrug his shoulders. He really didn't know what to believe!
"I love her, Willow and that night we were together, it was the most wonderful night of my life. For just a little while, as we were making love, I was truly happy and look what happened..."
Angel honesty didn't get it! There I was, an 18 years old girl and I was going to have to explain to a 246 year old vampire that he hadn't lost his soul because he had sex! Geez, why do all males think their world revolves around their penis!
Buffy's love was the ultimate affirmation of his remaining humanity. He'd believed that if a slayer could love a vampire, than something inside him must still be human. At the time, to be human again is what Angel had wanted more than anything else. For a just a second, Buffy gave him that. Hence the happiness, hence the activation of the clause in his curse. Good-bye humanity, hello Angelus!
I tried to explain all this to Angel the best I could. And he began to cry as the truth in what I said finally started to sink in.
"So, you see, you stupid vampire," I sighed, suddenly feeling very weary. "It wasn't the sex. It was how Buffy made you feel, what you allowed yourself to believe. Your making love that night was just a catalyst. If you two had been together much longer, you would have lost your soul even without the sex. You'll forfeit that soul and much more if you ever loose yourself in her that way again."
The expression an Angel's face at that point told me I had nothing to fear.
"But you won't ever do that again, will you?" I asked. "You can't. It's not really what you want any more, is it?"
"I'll be honest with you, Willow, I don't know exactly what is I want now. I'm not Angelus anymore, but I'm not Angel either, and I don't want to be that person again. I only know that I can't go on feeling this confused and this lonely."
"I like what you're becoming. I only hope that I live long enough to see what it is you grow up to be."
"Oh, Willow," Angel cried as he dropped down on his knees before me. His arms went around my thighs and for the longest time he simply hugged me tight, the side of his face pressed into my belly.
I ran my fingers through his hair. I crooned a little bit, swaying gently, rocking him back and forth.
When he finally moved again, the first thing he did was slip his hands under the hem of my dress and he pushed it up, exposing me from the waist down. He started placing light little kisses up and down my sides. They tickled and I giggled.
"An bhféadfá cuidiú a thabhairt dom, mo cara?" he whispered into my belly.
The Gaelic words flowed beautifully from his lips, as though it hadn't been over a century since he'd last spoken in his native tongue.
Will you help me, my friend?
Without a second thought to what I was doing, I answered him.
"I gcónai."
Always.
End
Entry Twenty-One