Disclaimer: BtVS and AtS belong to Joss and a whole bunch of other people with a lot more money than me. I'm just borrowing them.
Distribution: If you already have my stuff, take it. Otherwise please ask.
Feedback: Pretty please, I write because I enjoy it and because I want all of you to enjoy it. Am I doing a good job?
Category: A/T, and A/anyone else I can think of. You'll see...
Rating: Basically NC-17
Spoilers: Up to and including anything this season. If you don't want to get spoiled as to things which have occurred this season, you don't want to read this. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!
Summary: Angel tries to stay afloat in the recesses of his own mind.
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Time had ceased to have all meaning since his son had disposed of him in the waters of the Atlantic. Cold darkness enveloped him, and only the slight lightening of the water around him gave him any indication whatsoever of the passage of time, although, he'd long since lost count.
Hunger was a constant companion. It gnawed at him, and in the still darkness of the cool, salty water Angel imagined he could feel the parasitic nature of his body as it turned on itself-- consumed itself. His demon wrenched within him, causing him to jerk against the chains that bound him, unable to even attempt to get comfortable within the heavy metal box he'd been trapped within.
He wished desperately to die. To end this torture. But his immortal nature made that impossible. He would live on. Even as his body consumed itself and he slowly starved, the hunger and quiet driving him to madness. He would be nothing more than the walking dead then, a revenant. Or at least that's what he thought. He'd never seen a vampire starved for more than a few weeks. Usually, anyone inflicting such torture grew bored and ended the pathetic creature's life.
Luckily, the outside world was becoming farther and farther away. Angel found himself retreating deeper and deeper into his mind, and the darkness outside and that behind his eyelids, was getting harder and harder to tell apart.
Angel felt the boundaries of his mind begin to unfurl as his mind combated the eventuality of madness in whatever manner it could, thrusting him inside snippets of memories and private fantasies. It was ironic that it was this very tactic, which would in the end leave him insane he knew. Still, there was nothing to be done, and so he allowed himself to sink into these fantasies and half-remembered dreams.
Sometimes, the vampire relived his glorious nights within Buffy's young, strong arms. He enjoyed these memories, usually successfully blocking out the parts where he lost his soul and proceeded to make her life a living hell. Most of the time he was able to focus on the softness of her skin, and the smooth toned limbs with their vanilla musk scent. He remembered these things through the rose colored glasses of a first love.
He remembered how she had been shy at first. Modesty warring with desire in the Slayer's bright hazel gaze, how surprise and love had shone from deep within her as he'd joined their bodies, breaking through her maidenhead and making her his. The memories were bittersweet, however, marred by Angelus' return, and the knowledge that the young girl he loved no longer existed. Buffy was a different person now. His last forgotten night with her, had shown him that.
Other times Angel allowed himself to fantasize. In those dreams long, graceful limbs were stretched taught across the blue cotton sheets of his bed, arms and legs held still by silk handkerchiefs, as his lips worshipped the body of his beautiful Seer. In these fantasies, Cordelia's hair was long, and dark, a curtain of silk which slipped through his fingers with ease. He had loved her hair, and mourned it when she'd had it cut....
Her dark eyes would sparkle at him and her full, inviting mouth smile, as he caressed her breasts and suckled at their heavy, mauve-tipped fullness. Sometimes he would scrape his fangs lightly against her honeyed flesh, allowing the taste of her essence to flavor his tongue, before his head moved lower, seeking yet another taste. She was delicious just like he knew she would be. His tongue would dive deep, his dark eyes watching as she writhed beneath him, his ears ringing from the sound of her voice calling his name.
"Angel...."
"Angel...."
The fantasy dissolved around him, Cordelia's body spiraling away from him in a dark vortex void of light. And yet he could still hear that sweet voice. A voice which sounded absolutely nothing like Cordelia at all.
"Angel... Angel... "
He jerked against his chains, his eyes opening in his watery jail cell. All was darkness. Nothing had changed.
Angel closed his eyes, hoping desperately to recapture the beauty of his earlier dream.
Instead he found himself bound. His arms and legs splayed wide, leather ties holding his wrists and ankles in place against a cold, metal wall. The room was spartan, painted a deep shade of red which reminded him of the color of hot, spilled blood. He groaned, tugging against the straps that held him until a sound alerted him to the presence of another.
He could hear the familiar tap-tap of heels against a smooth floor. A door he hadn't noticed before, swung open directly across from him, as the tap-tap sounded loudly. Angel gasped, shocked. It was Willow. She stood framed in the doorway, long, slender legs incased in shiny, black heeled boots that went up to mid-thigh. A leather, hi cut bodysuit barely covering her charms from his gaze. The item was designed to resemble a corset, the boning inside whittling her already tiny waist to nearly impossible proportions, even as the demi-cups of her bra offered up her small, perfect breasts to him as if on a platter. Her red hair was unbelievably long, almost a cloak of blood red color against her pearl skin. She smiled at him, fangs glinting at the sides of her mouth.
"Hello Puppy. Want to play?", she asked in a little girl voice that sent his body into aching hardness.
She stalked closer, slender hips swinging dangerously on those heels. Angel couldn't take his eyes off of her. Her green eyes glittered brilliantly, and a knife appeared in her hand. He hissed, his own eyes widening as slid the blade down his chest sharply, drawing blood. She squatted, looking up at him, her gaze locked on his as she lapped up the blood she'd drawn, her hands massaging his erection.
"Doesn't that feel good Puppy? You like this don't you? Don't you want me to make you crawl and beg, and bleed?", Willow hissed breathlessly, sharp fingernails gouging into his side.
Angel resisted very little, unable to combat the seductive sway of this particular fantasy. A fantasy he'd denied himself for so long because of its nature. His demon had always recognized the darkness in the redheaded friend of the Slayer. In fact, she'd been a favorite target of Angelus' obsessive nature.
A hard slap to his face, rocked his head sharply to the side, bringing him back with startling clarity into this world of pain and pleasure.
"You will pay attention Angel!", Willow shouted at him. Something else overlaid her voice. Like an echo... He could hear his name. Someone was calling.
"Angel..."
"Angel..."
Willow punched him in the stomach. The move was so powerful and unexpected, for a minute, Angel thought he was actually going to wretch. "Pup...py", she sing-songed. "Puppy's not paying attention..."
"Angel..."
Angel's attention wandered to that other voice. It still called out to him. 'Sweet...', he thought.
Willow grabbed, his face forcing him to meet her eyes, but the voice called again, and finally he allowed himself to answer it.
"I'm here!", he shouted.
The red haired witch snarled angrily, and then this fantasy shattered around him, pieces scattering to the winds. He was in darkness once again.
Angel shivered, his body still held captured. The voice seemed so faraway now. Was this it? Had he finally snapped?
"Angel..."
His head moved upwards. "Here! Please... I'm here. Help me."
"Angel..."
It was closer now. Around him he could see and feel the void around him lighten slightly, a pinprick of golden light off in the distance.
The light grew larger as the sweet voice grew closer.
He squinted into the light, trying to make out the source of that voice.
After a moment, the souled vampire was able to make out a figure. An obviously female figure shaped the way he'd always felt women were supposed to be shaped, not like the skinny little boys the media told them they should be. His mind flashed back to Buffy, and how wasted and wan she'd looked when he'd last seen her.
"Angel."
He blinked and found himself staring at her, this unknown creature that stood before him. Of all his fantasies, this seemed the most real, despite its impossibility. He didn't know this woman. He'd known all the rest; the women that he'd spun yarns around in order to pass the time, to keep himself tethered to this world, to his mind. But this one....
"Am I losing my mind?", he asked.
The angelic figure smiled gently, and he felt a calm sense of warmth flow over him comfortingly.
"It looks that way...", she said gently.
He continued to stare at her. Trying to memorize her. Her hair was blond, a bit beyond shoulder-length. Her skin was creamy and flawless. She wore white, something gossamer and translucent like dragonfly's wings, accenting and hinting at what lay beneath while leaving all to the imagination.
"But I'm supposed to help you fight that", the woman told him.
Her voice snapped Angel out of his reverie, and his eyes flew to her pretty face. He felt a bit embarrassed, sure that she'd noted his rude staring.
"How can you help me? I'm imagining this too, you're not really here."
"I am, or at least I am to a greater extent then those racy little scenarios you had playing out in your head", she said.
Angel's eyes widened, he lowered his head. "I'm losing control. They're getting--"
The pretty blond reached out and caressed his face lightly. "Darker?", she filled in.
He nodded, and looked away, unable to take the brightness of her bluish-gray eyes any longer.
"Go away."
"Why?", she asked.
"You're not really here. I'm losing my mind. I'm losing myself."
"I won't let you."
"How can you help me?", he looked up at her, his dark eyes suddenly painfully hopeful. He looked like a little boy. His voice was small. "Are you an angel?"
"I don't know if I can help you", she admitted, "but I can try. I was sent here by the Powers That Be to try, to keep you going until they could arrange your rescue." She smiled at him, and shook her head. "And no, I'm not an angel. At least I don't think so." Her smile grew wider. "I used to be a witch."
Angel started in surprise, suddenly finding himself free from the chains that had bound him for so long. He knew it wasn't real. He knew that it was only here with her that this was so.
"I thought--"
"You thought this was punishment. You thought they'd forgotten about you", she said.
"Yes."
"They haven't. Even now, your friends search frantically for you, and the Powers are arranging for your son to learn the truth."
"Connor!", Angel gasped, falling to his knees as the fullness of his son's actions against him came back, filling his head and his long-dead heart with unbearable agony.
Soft arms wrapped around him, lending him strength and comfort.
The vampire clutched at her. His head lolling against the cushion of her breasts, as sobs wracked his form. His arms wrapped around her gently rounded body, tears flowing unceaselessly.
"Shhh... Shhh....", she crooned, her fingers threading through the dark silk of his hair.
He didn't know how long he cried. It didn't seem to matter. He felt safe here in these arms, and squeezed her closer, seemingly unaware of his own strength. Yet, she didn't complain. Not even when she became aware that his tears had ended, and that the face of his demon had emerged from behind its handsome facade.
"Go ahead Angel. Its okay. You need to. Its okay Angel", she murmured, her eyes closing and her head tilting back, exposing more of her long, pale throat to him.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"Then don't hurt me."
Instead of the stinging of teeth, she felt cool lips caress her what passed as her flesh. He wanted so badly to please her, so badly not to be left alone again. Angel's lips moved slowly up her throat, to the shell of her ear causing frission's of awareness to travel up her body.
She knew she didn't have to do this, the Powers had left it up to her, whether she would share her soul's essence with the trapped vampire. The minute she'd seen him, she knew she would. The pain in his heart far outweighed that of his undead body, and she knew he would need strength to cope. This sharing would help him she knew, she just hadn't known that it would feel--
"Oh", the blond gasped as sharp teeth gained purchase in her neck.
"Relax", he purred against her, and against her better judgment, she did. Angel suckled fiercely, pulling not blood from his angelic companion, but tendrils of hope, a sustenance for his spirit.
She hugged him to her. Her mouth opening in awed wonder at the sensation he was creating within her. She'd never felt anything like this before, not even when she'd been alive. "Angel...", she moaned.
He stopped the instant he heard the sound. Gently, he disengaged his bite. "I didn't hurt you did I", he asked anxiously, smoothing her pale locks from her face.
The young woman shook her head, her eyes locked on his. "No", she whispered breathlessly.
They stayed like that, locked together in a familiar embrace for a long time.
"Do you-- What's your name?", Angel asked the young woman in his arms uncertainly.
She smiled at him, and snuggled nearer. "M-m-my n-name's Tara."
"Tara", he said, tasting the sound on his tongue. "I like it."
He frowned suddenly, the brightness was slowly the fading. The peace he'd found here in this place with her, was evolving, changing, fleeing.
Everything went black. Tara was gone. He was back in his own mind.
"Tara!!", he shouted into the darkness, straining against the chains that once again held him captive. "Tara!! Where are you?"
From a distance he could hear her voice, it sounded small and far away.
"I'm coming Angel. I will find you again. I promise."
He believed her, and he would wait. Forever, if need be.
The End