main characters: Darla, Angelus
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any character from Buffy the Vampire
Slaye, created by Joss Whedon.
distribution: Jinni, Paula, Cat anyone else ask.
note: Jinni's weekly poetry challenge #9. Set before the series began.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"He
was my north, my south, my east and west;
My
working week, my Sunday best;
My
noon, my midnight, my talk, my song.
I
thought that love would last forever, ... I was wrong. "
--
W.H. Auden, 'Song IX' from 'Twelve Songs'
*
* *
* *
Darla smiled as she traced her fingers over the tattoo that graced the
shoulder of her Angelus. He was her favorite Childe, the only
one that she
would still want to have traveling with her, the only one that she'd
stayed
close enough to help influence her grandchildren. He was a magnificent
specimen of a man.
A handsome face, a muscular, pleasing body, a quick wit and an appreciation
for the fine arts of cruelty... Angelus was everything that she
could want
in a childe, or in a lover. He was nearly perfect, which was
only proper,
as she'd taught him everything that he knew about being a vampire.
Smiling, Darla glanced at the girl in the corner, a frightened woman
child
who couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen at the most.
She sat in
the corner, her hands tied, her mouth gagged with a silken scarf.
The fear
was almost thick enough to taste, and it was almost surprising that
it
hadn't woke her darling boy from his slumber.
"Wake up, my precious." She ran her fingernails along his back,
suddenly
digging in just a little along his ribs.
Growling, he twisted on the silken sheets, glaring sleepily at her.
"Darla... why did y' have to be wakin' me up like that?" He paused,
tilting
his head slightly as the scent of the fear filled his nostrils.
"Mmmm...
We have company?"
"I found her along the road. She even had a bundle of things."
Darla
chuckled, looking at the girl, seeing the tear tracks on her cheeks,
the
shimmer of those large dark eyes. "I think she was trying to
run away from
home."
Angelus slid from the bed, gloriously naked, every movement filled with
predatory grace and confidence. "So, what shall we do with the
lass?"
The girl cringed, her eyes riveted on his exposed body, shaking even
more.
There was a slight whimper; something that Darla knew would only increase
her childe's arousal. The tears began to flow more rapidly down
the gypsy
girls face.
He knelt down beside the girl, pulling her close with a bruising grip
on
her arm, and leaned closer, licking a tear from her cheek. "So
sweet and
helpless..."
Moving closer, Darla placed her hand on his shoulder, smiling at the
girl.
"I have a few suggestions, if you're out of ideas. The poor girl's
probably
still a virgin. Why don't we show her what a real man can do?"
Chuckling darkly, Angelus rose to his feet, dragging the girl upwards
as
well. "What a delightful idea."
* * * * *
Darla sat up in her bed, gasping for unneeded air. She could still
see
everything from the dream-memory of the night that she and Angelus
had
killed the Kalderash girl. The girl who's clan had been so angered
that
they'd cursed her Childe with a soul. They'd bound her delightfully
cruel
childe with a conscience, with morality. It had almost broken
him, and he'd
gone away for a while. He'd tried to come back tot hem, to her,
but she'd
pushed him. Pushed for him to be as he'd been before, and demanded
too much
too fast.
Now he was gone. No longer in her arms, in her bed. She
didn't even know
where he was, what continent, what city. He'd vanished from their
residence
in China, vanished into the darkness. At least she knew that
he was still
out there, somewhere. She was still his Sire, still had given
him the blood
that had granted him this eternal life. That had forged their
bond, and
that bond still reached towards him.
"Where are you, my darling boy? Are you safe from the sunlight?
Have you
been feeding well?" The words slid out into the air and Darla
shivered,
pulling on a silken robe.
How could she have known? How could a simple night's pleasure
ruin and
destroy so much? It made no sense to her, but it had happened.
She still worried about him, missed him, ached for his presence and
his
touch. His own childer, William and Drusilla, had been horribly
upset as
well. None of their family had dealt well with his disappearance.
Churning somewhere near her stomach was an unfamiliar sensation, thick
and
cold. It felt similar to a bruise and a chill, and it grew stronger
as she
remembered that night, the girl's screams and pleadings, the way that
they'd
slowly broken her, leaving her body discarded, cast aside like a child's
broken toy.
Perhaps it was guilt?
Darla growled, and stalked towards her bathing chamber. She was
a vampire,
she wasn't supposed to feel guilty. Or regretful. She was
just supposed to
do as she pleased, to take what she wanted and enjoy her indulgences.
But she still missed her darling boy. Especially tonight, on the
anniversary of the gypsy girl's death. The anniversary of the
night
everything had begun to crumble, not that they'd known.
As Darla soaked in the hot water, she tried to convince herself that
the
moisture on her face was nothing more than condensed steam, or perhaps
she'd
splashed the water a little when she'd lowered her body into the perfumed
waters. It certainly wasn't a tear. Vampires didn't cry,
and especially
not over something like a dream, or a memory.
By the time the water was cool, she'd almost convinced herself of the lie.
End