SERIES: Choices (#18)
AUTHOR: Tisienne Blue
E-MAIL: tisatko@msn.com
POV: the mighty pouf!!!*giggle*
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I'm going to have to kill him. Hell, I'm gonna have to kill Willow, too, because I'm fairly sure my pain in the ass childe didn't come up with this idea. It's too... involved for him. It had to be Willow.
First she begs and pleads with me to come to some 'surprise party' for my boy, and when I actually agreed-- against my better judgment, by the way-- she... Shit. She set me up! Me! Angelus, the Scourge of Europe! And okay, so I'm not really the bad ass vampire I was then, seeing as I'm all soul-having now, but still! There should be some kind of rule forbidding little human girls-- witches or not-- to play demons the way she did me.
And she did play me, better than I ever would have guessed. I had no idea there was such a devious side to her, and... I blame Spike. She was never this... tricky... before they got *close*.
Yes, they both have to die, and slowly, too.
That knowledge doesn't change the fact that I'm sitting in a private dining room at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, just... staring at the walls. The candle-lit, silk covered walls, that is. Now, when this place says 'private', they mean *private*! I had to go up two flights of stairs, and down a long hall just to get here, but then again, so did Tara.
Yeah, I said *Tara*, because she's the other part of this little game. And that sounds like I think she had a hand in it, but I know she really, *really* didn't, because... God, she's even more uncomfortable about this than I am. Not that she's said so, because aside from the small 'eep' noise she made when she walked in and saw me, she hasn't made a sound. She's just... sitting there, apparently absorbed with the carefully folded napkin on the table in front of her, and... Please, let her say something... *anything*!
My fingers are fiddling with the silverware, and I know it's because I'm nervous. Hell, I'm completely confused, too, for that matter. I don't know what I'm supposed to say or do, here, but... Fuck! In more than two centuries, you'd think I'd have acquired some finesse, wouldn't you? Well, obviously, I haven't.
I want to talk to her, but what could I possibly say? 'Look, Tara, I know you're *gay*, but you've been on my mind since the day we met, and do you think you could maybe forget about the fact that I'm a guy, and oh, yeah, a demon, and just... try dating me and my penis?' Because I'm *sure* that would go over *real* well. Or even better, 'You're driving me crazy; I've been hard as a rock from the moment you walked into my life.' Yeah, 'cause *that* wouldn't freak her out at *all*!
But the silence is deafening, and wearing on what few nerves I've got left. I have to say *something*, because otherwise... Oh, what's the point?
I mean, what's the point of even speaking? It's not like she'd ever want anything to do with me. I'm a vampire, and while Buffy might have been willing to ignore that little fact-- for a while, anyway-- Tara's nothing like her. Good thing. At least *this* blonde isn't trying to lead me on, or make me insane with some 'I want you--- I can't be with you-- I want you' act. It's entirely my own fault that I can't seem to think of anything but her. She's done nothing to encourage me.
Okay. I'm gonna say something. Something funny, to make her smile that way she does when she forgets there are people around. My mouth opens just as the door does, and I'm almost disappointed when the waiter walks in, but... He's brought food. That'll give us something to talk about, at least.
He doesn't stay long; he just... places our napkins in our laps, which is a nice touch, even if the sight of him that close to Tara makes me want to *scream*. He places small plates with some sort of elaborate creations on them in front of us, and... he's out the door before I can even ask him what it is.
It smells pretty good, even to me, but I just stare at the flower-shaped bits, amazed that humans-- with their limited life-spans-- would take the time to make food look like shrubbery. "So," I finally say, glancing across the table from beneath hooded eyes, "Are we supposed to eat this or water it?" And I suddenly know that I'm in more trouble than I even thought, because... there's that little smile, and I can feel a broad grin on my face, and... God, did my heart just... *beat*? This is bad. This is worse than bad. This is...
"I'm g-g-going with the eating option," she says, even as she picks up her fork and stabs at one of the so-delicate creations. That utensil moves so slowly to her lips that I'm almost ready to help her out, but... "Mmmm..." she says, her blue eyes closing softly with apparent delight.
"Good?" I ask, just to keep the conversation going, and when she nods, I try my own bit of what turns out to be some kind of fluffy carrot-flavoured thing. It *is* good, which surprises me, because human food hasn't held much appeal since I was turned. My own eyes widen, and I decide to try something that looks similar to the first. This one tastes like fish, though, but still... "Try *that* one," I order her, pointing it out.
She places it so gently on her tongue that I'm suddenly hard again, just from imagining her lips on my skin; that soft, pink muscle flicking wickedly against me. She has no idea, though, because she's laughing quietly, and it's a sound I can't get enough of.
"What?" I demand, trying to ignore my urges. I've got lots of experience with self-denial, after all, so how hard could it be? And just the phrasing of that isn't helping at all.
Tara laughs again, that tiny smile becoming much larger. "It's j-j-just... y-you're always in charge, aren't you?"
Well, I suppose I am, but that doesn't mean I'm going to admit it, so I shake my head, and... Just like that, we're actually talking. It feels... good.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Okay, so maybe I *don't* have to kill them. Maybe.
Dinner went well, and once we actually started talking, Tara and I discovered that we have a lot more in common than we thought. We've both never really felt like we fit in, and granted, in my case, it's because I *don't*, but... She thought she was a *demon*!
It really makes me furious that her own father told her something like that just because he was frightened by the power she carries within her. How could he make her fear herself that way? It makes me even more angry that a part of me understands him.
He was manipulating her; trying to make her do what *he* thought was right, and... isn't that exactly what I tried to do to Spike? I used Drusilla to twist him up, and later, when I got my soul, I actually used his feelings for Angelus against him. Hell, it's amazing that he didn't end up being even more of a psychopath!
But he's stronger than I ever knew then. Just the fact that he's changed so much since the chip and Willow makes that clear to me. Of course, the little redhead's changed a lot, too.
She's almost an actual part of him, and she truly *loves* him, and... I wonder if they share her soul and his demon between them. It would explain a lot, if they did. Like Spike's willingness to take part in this little 'let's set up Angel and Tara' episode.
So we ate, and we talked, and she rode back here with me, and... I can hardly keep my eyes off of her. She's wearing this long, crinkled-looking velvet skirt, and this *very* tight top-- in my day, it was called a bodice. God knows what they're calling it now. So she looks... amazing.
I know she dressed up for Willow's 'special dinner', though, and... Does she still want the girl? I mean, I know we had fun, but... Still, Willow belongs to Spike now, so I stop halfway across the lobby and grab her hand. "I had a good time tonight," I tell her, and I have to smile when her entire face lights up.
"S-s-so d-did I," she stammers, and I can actually *smell* her blushing before I see it. Her eyes drop to our still-connected hands, but she's not trying to pull away, and that has to be a good sign, right?
So I step just a few inches closer, and my smile gets bigger when her heart starts beating faster. "Maybe we could... do it again sometime?" I ask hopefully, slapping a tentative expression on my face when she looks up at me. I'm not tentative, though. I want this girl. I want to talk with her, and spend time just... basking in the calm she seems to fill me with. I want to watch films with her, and argue about the meaning; go for drives and get lost, just so she can ask me why I won't stop for directions. I want to find myself caught up in a world where I can say 'I don't know if we have plans that night' if anyone asks. I just... *want* her.
She almost looks like she just got whacked in the head with a stick, but she nods quickly, and that little smile I love so much is there, and "I-I'd like that," she says.
But she's obviously just now realized what's happening here, because she looks surprised that I'm interested, and I know we're going to have to talk about the fact that I'm male eventually, but... not right now, because she's pulling her hand from mine, and I have a feeling the 'sometime' is gonna turn out to be 'never' if I don't nail down a specific time and date immediately. "We could catch a movie tomorrow night," I suggest, and I can't quite hold in a relieved sigh when she nods shakily. "Good," I purr. "We'll check the paper tomorrow; see what's playing."
She nods again and heads for the stairs, and that when I realize... I have a *date*! And not just *any* date, but a date with *Tara*! And I have no idea of how to act. Should I try to be funny, or would that put her off? I mean, she seems to like me in my usual brooding mood, but... would that be too ordinary? It's a special occasion, after all; shouldn't I try to *act* special? I don't remember being this flustered when I was seeing Buffy; not even at the very beginning, and...
Oh, God. I am *so* screwed.
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