The Whimsical Notions Of A Desolate VampireBy Buddy
Xander deposited the package on the dining room table making sure it was the right way up, as Angel had instructed, sat down and stared numbly at the floor. It was the easiest place to look because then no one could look into his eyes and see the bewilderment there. No matter how many times he went over it in his head it still equalled total madness, or possibly the onset of mental breakdown and he knew that Willow at least would see it. He couldn’t afford that, not at all.
Buffy totally ignored his body language and was in his space before he could find an excuse to be elsewhere. He felt the compelling need radiating from her, for him to look up and tell her something, anything about his encounter with Angel. Whatever the problem was between the two of them, and he silently acknowledged that whatever it was, it was only one in a long list; she still needed to know …, something.
“How is Angel coping Xander?”
“Pretty much how you would expect him to I guess. He didn’t say too much about it Buffy. “ Finally he looked up at her. “Does it feel strange, knowing about Darla and Connor?”
Buffy’s face twisted with such a mixture of emotion that Xander wished he hadn’t bothered to ask. God he felt like shit. Way to complicate your life further stupid! Lost in reverie, it took a moment to realise that she was answering him.
“We have different lives now. All that matters is that he’s not alone. I can’t do anything to help him, it’s so frustrating!”
She moved, to a safer distance away from him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She thrust her hands in her hair in vexation. Xander went back to looking at the floor. He felt bad about this. Not guilty exactly, but he didn’t want to be the cause of any more heartache for this woman who meant so much to him.
Hopefully she would never need to know how bad a friend he was. Never need to learn of his betrayal, even if what he suspected was true, and she was betraying herself with another member of the ambivalent undead. Hell, why was he so worried? He doubted that Angel would ever tell
He’d gone through the motions at work, whilst he re-lived every expression on Angel’s face, the tone of his voice, his touches, the way he had needed to pull his demon under control, and that thought alone had made him hard again. He’d never had that much power over anyone before. He went over it and over it, but still it didn’t get less real. Was it only that morning that he had left Angel in bed? In the end he’d told Tony he was going home sick and wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week.
Once home, he pretended to watch television and tried to ignore the memories. Despite his resolve, he couldn’t help it when thoughts of the previous night tried so hard to spill into the now. He actually picked the phone up once and dialled the Hyperion, only to hastily replace the receiver before it could start ringing at the other end.
He had never slept with a male before, much less a vampire, but now he had, with Angel of all people. He was definitely inclined to go with the madness theory. But he would do it again; he knew that in a heartbeat. He chose not to think of the why for now.
Xander risked another look up at Buffy.
“He’s not alone Buff, he has his whole gang remember? Look, don’t we have a ritual to perform? Isn’t that the reason I went to LA, despite my ill timed migraine attack?” Buffy looked immediately contrite.
“We do. Are you feeling better now?” Such a loaded question.
Xander nodded and tried to smile encouragingly. That’s what good friends did right?
“How’s the Dawnster?“
“Still sick, but well enough to moan and whine about it.”
She smiled at him and went back over to the others without another word. Xander breathed another sigh of relief; maybe now he could examine the reasons he wanted Angel’s hands on him again instead of Anya’s.
~*~
When Angel had let Cordelia go to Groo without putting up a fight he had mostly felt relief. It wasn’t the noble sacrifice one might expect from a Champion, more a reluctant relinquishment of another false hope. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d seen the sentiment echoed in her eyes. He didn’t regret his decision, but it wasn’t until she came back that he realised he had really let her go, let go of his pacifier.
She’d come back stinking of Groo. It had assaulted his senses as violently as it would a mortal stumbling into an abattoir, and he’d heaved up coagulating pig’s blood until he believed he would rather turn to ash than drink it again. Giving up hope of any kind was never easy on anybody.
She was still there on the sidelines, Groo hovering anxiously in the background, trying to be supportive of Cordelia’s concern for her friend, hoping that was all she was.
“You shouldn’t be spending time alone Angel.”
“I haven’t been alone.”
“I thought you made Gunn and Fred go out last night, and I know that Lorne was working the other side of town, it gives you too much time to brood mister.”
“I had company. Buffy needed a Soralian Sceptre, I had one…” Cordelia interrupted him.
“Buffy was here?”
Angel wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“No, she couldn’t come herself, she sent Xander.”
“Oh wonderful, that’s just what you need on top of everything else. Xander Harris in town.” Her smile softened her words.
“How is he?”
“He was …, different, I guess we all are.”
She’d let it drop at that, perhaps reluctant to trigger any trips down Sunnydale lane for either of them. She’d simply held him for an endless time whilst she tried to find the right words to lesson the pain. A lot of what she had said, had made sense, but his heart wasn’t ready to listen to his brain.
Sitting in his armchair was turning into a malady, he should move to another room, and hide; stay out of Cordelia’s way. He could feel her concern pressing down on him like a crushing weight and he was grateful she cared about the way he felt. But it was better than he deserved and that was exactly the problem. History had repeated itself and he had dealt with his problems much the way he had when he’d slept with Darla. Which was precisely why his head was in the mess it was in now.
A bench had appeared in his mind and Xander Harris was sitting on it. At times glaring at him with the mistrust he’d always shown him from day one. Trying unsuccessfully to hide his vulnerability at others and always looking at him with lust filled eyes, even up to the point where he would get up, turn his back on him and walk away.
At least Xander couldn’t turn up at the hotel in nine months time and tell him he was going to be a father. How he hated that word. Father. He decided he would strike it from their repertoire much the way they had struck the word ‘Wesley’. At least Xander wouldn’t turn up at the hotel and …, well turn up at all.
Angel closed his eyes and refused to return to whimsy. He didn’t want to think about the way Xander’s hair was cut so severely, that he wanted to keep him locked up simply so he could force him to grow it out. Or the way his cheeks had filled out more than they should, as though he had been eating compulsively, in an attempt to ward of some unknown threat to his skeleton.
He didn’t want to think about the way his laughter lines seemed like an echo of some other person he used to be, or the way he had so readily accepted Angel’s attention, as though any would do. He certainly didn’t want to think about how despite all that, he had seen so much beauty in him last night and this morning. How incredible it had been to make love with him, or how he yearned for it to mean something more to Xander, than something he wished he hadn’t done.
It was still there, that tiny spark, and he could feel its attempts to flicker into something brighter. Dare he hope that here was someone who held no illusions about him? Someone who wouldn’t constantly watch to see how much better he was now, than before, with whom he wouldn’t have to wear a false face? Someone who recognised that you could steadfastly attempt to calm the waters that raged, but it was simpler to learn how to better steer the boat.
Was this simply the complicated fallout of grief? Was it madness? Would Angelus re-emerge suddenly, liberated through despair instead of happiness? Angel wanted to tell himself he didn’t care, but that would have been a fabrication, one he could make sound feasible, to anyone else’s ears but his own. He did care; he just couldn’t fathom the reason why.
He stared at the crib he had finally dismantled and felt the enormity of his loss slam into his chest like nothing ever had before. He’d not only lost his son, but also a dear and once trusted friend. It took all the strength from his limbs and coalesced around an organ that didn’t work any more. He was used to pain, desolation even, but even his sojourn in hell hadn’t made him feel this incapacitated. At least there was no false hope in hell to keep him going.
~*~
The ritual was successfully performed, complete with another brush with death for all of them. No Giles to be the ‘grown-up’ any more but wounds and bandages aplenty. Tara had been here to watch Dawn, who was still throwing up and grumbling about Buffy having to leave her behind. Willow had still limped up the stairs to her room alone.
It was then that Xander realised he was sick of it all. Sunnydale, the Hellmouth, and most especially the Scoobies with their pathetic attempts to impose order on their lives. Even Spike looked as though he wished he had an elsewhere to be. But they continued all of them, putting a Band Aid on their gaping wounds and he realised he was the worst offender.
He had torn himself away from Anya, not truly aware of the extent to which she had stemmed the blood flow. Intended nuptials, a life with someone he cared about; a lie. Now his emotional wounds were bleeding out in a steady gush, but this was the truth of his life from now on, and he wanted to join hands with someone who recognised it and didn’t pretend it might be salvageable.
Despite the wreckage of his personal life, he knew in his own small way he had made a difference to the world. He also felt blessed with the friendships he had forged with these people and he knew them enough to know that they would miss him. He also knew they would let him go because of that love, even if ultimately they didn’t understand why.
That wasn’t the biggest obstacle; the thing he had to try to explain was the where.
He said goodnight to Buffy and Dawn and turned to leave the house. He looked at Buffy for a long time before enfolding her in his arms and telling her that he loved her. Then he hugged Dawn, who clung a little too hard for comfort and he knew that in his heart he had already said goodbye. Instead of going straight home, he ran to catch up with Spike, who didn’t seem in any particular hurry to get back to his trashed crypt.
He was so surprised that Xander had sought him out, that at first he forgot to vent his usual sarcasm, and simply looked at him like he was some sort of drug-induced apparition. He pulled out a smoke and turning his head sideways looked at Xander from under his eyebrows. He lit it and narrowed his eyes against the resulting puff of smoke.
“Oh this must be something big. Don’t tell me, they’ve just remembered that another apocalypse needs to be averted before sun-up. Either that, or that lot have sent you to Coventry. Or maybe you’ve just come to have another go. Let this bruise fade first would ya? One adds sinister attraction, any more than that just makes a fellow look like bait.”
Xander stopped walking and Spike stopped a few feet away from him and asked,
“What are you doing?”
Spike couldn’t understand the look on his face at first and then his mouth fell open in surprise. He looked sorry? What the hell was going on?
Xander started walking towards him again and he didn’t look like he was going to resort to violence so Spike waited.
“I …, I’m leaving Sunnydale. The others don’t know yet but I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
Spike eyebrows went north.
“Why, who died and left you with a bleedin’ conscience?”
Xander beseeched him with his eyes.
“I deserve that, I know. But for what it’s worth Spike, I am sorry.”
Spike stared at him for a few seconds and then nodded, he was nothing if not a gracious creature. It occurred to Xander that this was his week for apologising to vampires.
“D‘you really expect me to believe that your leaving your Scooby pals just like that?“ Xander nodded.
“Why are you leaving Sunnydale? Is it because of Anya? Wait a minute, where are you going?”
Xander didn’t say anything; just fell into step with Spike. This wasn’t meant to get complicated, he had just wanted to give him a simple but sincere apology and leave it that, at least for the time being. Realisation dawned on Spike’s face and he couldn’t help the smirk that broke free.
“Find something interesting In Los Angeles did you?”
“I’ve found somewhere I think I can be more useful, yes.”
“No, that’s not it. There’s more to it than that. D’you think I don’t recognise the look on your face for what it is? I spent almost twenty years wearing it ma self and I’m here to tell you that if you must leave Sunnydale then go, but not to him, it’ll only end in tears.”
Spike shook his head. This was incredible.
“What do you think Buffy will have to say about it?”
It was Xander’s turn to smirk now.
“Do you really wanna go down that road?”
Spike flashed him a sickly grin and flicked his cigarette away.
“It’s not what you think …,”
“Save it. It’s not important what I think anyway. But if you ever really want to tell me the truth of it, I guess you can just look me up at the Hyperion.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“No, but he might be hoping for me, and I’m prepared to take the risk.”
Xander looked at him thoughtfully for a minute, his fingers stroking his mouth, and he remembered. The cool lips that had pressed against them so softly, then harder, claiming them, assaulting them. He shivered and then reached into his back pocket and pulled out his keys. He pulled the spare off the ring and gave it to an open-mouthed Spike.
“No wild vampire parties, if I do come back I don’t want to be able to tell you were there. The lease is paid up until the end of the year, you’ll have to find the money for amenities, that might mean getting a job pal.” Spike pocketed it.
“Right then, how much notice should I give them on the old place?”
Xander grinned at him again. This was proof he’d lost his mind.
“I’ll be gone by tomorrow night, you can move in now, I don’t mind.”
“Right then, I wouldn’t say no to crashing now, since the Slayer and her toy soldier redecorated the old place, it hasn’t had the same ambience, you know?”
~*~
Angel thought for a horrible moment that Cordelia had come back to haunt him with her quiet kindness. The door opening interrupted his musings so seamlessly that it could have been any one of them. Just a reoccurring act throughout any of his endless days, maybe dispelling Fred full of nervous compassion, Gunn with inadequate words, or Lorne spouting wisdom that Angel wanted to screw up into a ball and stuff back down his throat until he choked on it.
Xander was on his knees in front of his feet before he realised it wasn’t any of them. Pushing his head into Angel’s hands, clasping his knees, clinging to him like a man drowning and refusing to look into his eyes. Angel slid his hands into his hair as though it was something he had done a thousand times before, relishing the contrasting feel of silk and blunt ends under his fingers. He tried to stop his head from reeling, as the Xander in his head sat on the end of the bench and upended it.
Finally he pulled Xander’s face up so he had to look at him. Here was the face he could watch for hours and find something new with every fresh scrutiny. Even when it scowled out it’s derision at his existence and his chequered history, or spat hate because he’d loved the woman he had loved, before he could get near to her. Even when it looked like it did now, thoughts tunnelling into his brain, trying to find reasons to explain his actions in being here, and trying to articulate them.
“Why did you come back Xander?”
“I never wanted to leave in the first place.” Xander gave a harsh laugh.
“I think I might have lost my mind. I want to help you find Connor.”
“Why? Why do you want to help me do anything? What happened? Did you get sick of the old mission and decide to find yourself a new one?”
Xander’s hands hovered around his chest like an ass searching for a chair. Angel grabbed them and held them still waiting for Xander to answer him.
“I think I can help you, not so much with the practical side, I mean I can do research and stuff but I want to be here …, here for you.” Angel held on tighter to his hands.
“How can you do that exactly? Planning on being my boy toy? Go home.”
Xander managed a grin at that, taking more notice of Angel’s expression than his words.
Angel couldn’t seem to help himself, here was the very object of his affection and all he could do was open his mouth and allow shit to fall out. Xander freed his hands from Angel’s, trying to find purchase on the silky material of his shirt. He let out a growl of frustration before finally grabbing enough of it to haul him to his feet.
“Angel I don’t want to play games. And I don’t have all the answers. I did get sick of everything if you must know, but I didn’t go out of my way to find a new anything, it found me, and you know what? I don’t think you really want me to go anywhere, I think you’re just scared I’ll stay.”
Then Xander’s mouth covered his lips, and Angel was left wondering how someone smaller than him could apply so much pressure. Until he felt the hands at the back of his head, urging him closer. Angel allowed the feeling of relief to flow over him and sank into the kiss. This wasn’t the terrified schoolboy he’d first met; here was Xander the man, and mercifully taking charge again.
Xander’s hands roamed his body freely, undoing buttons, pulling off layers, until Angel was naked from the waist up, and he whispered to him,
“You don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want to. I’ll stay anyway. I mean it when I say I‘m here for you. I’m going to help you find your son, if you want me to.”
Angel stroked his back, willing his fingers to melt the material of his shirt and tee away so he could get to skin. He slid his hands under his t-shirt finally, around to his front, and then simply rested them on his belly. He closed his eyes and waited.
After a few seconds he slowly moved them up towards his chest, committing the feel of Xander’s flesh to memory before leaning forward to trail kisses up the side of his neck. Xander exhaled heavily. Angel’s hands and lips were cold at first until his skin warmed them. He kissed across his jaw line slowly and then parted his lips with his tongue.
He’d never kissed Buffy like this, never kissed any one like this. He didn’t want to let these lips go and he moved against them, pouring desperation into them, trying to draw out hope.
Xander slid his hands around his waist and over his ass. Such a nice ass, and it didn’t feel weird to admit it.
“You have a very nice ass,” he whispered.
Angel pushed backwards into his touch and Xander followed him, closing the distance between them even more. He trapped his hands against his chest as he slid a leg between his thighs, and rode slowly up and down his erection; clasping his ass cheeks he pulled him tighter against him.
Angel extricated his hands and ran them up the sides of Xander’s neck. He cupped either side of his jaw and dropped his lips to his again, brushing them softly at first, and then with more urgency, the more pressure Xander applied to his cock.
Xander parted his lips under the onslaught to chase Angel’s tongue, slipping, sliding his own against it, not really believing that their bodies were touching again. Eventually he had to come up for air, he searched Angel’s face as he ran his fingers over pert nipples and squeezed them, before fastening his mouth around one and sucking.
Neither of them heard the door open, or Cordelia’s gasp of surprise, but Angel sensed her in the room and froze. Xander thought for a horrible moment that Angel had changed his mind. He tried to will his thoughts and his nerve endings to catch up to the new direction, and mentally stomped on disappointment. Then he saw Cordelia looking at him, the shock she was feeling written all over her face.
“You’re back. Did you forget something?”
She arched one perfectly tweezed eyebrow and turned to leave the room again. She looked back at them as if she was trying to decide if she’d walked in on an alternate reality. She couldn’t take her eyes of Angel’s semi-nakedness or Xander’s ‘o’ of surprise.
“At least you’ve moved on from skinny red-heads,” she said to him. “I’ll be leaving now. I think I need an eye transplant.”
“Cordy wait!” Angel called to her.
His cock throbbed with unsatisfied desire, and his skin ached from loss of contact. He was torn between trying to re-capture the moment and the need to explain. He glanced at Xander’s miserable face and decided explanations could wait for another time.
Xander heaved out a sigh of relief when she ignored Angel’s command and left the room. He was still trying to remember how to keep breathing. He could cope with Cordelia knowing he was here, and the reason, but his knees were still weak from the possibility of rejection.
Angel dragged Xander’s shirt and T-shirt over his head before he had time to open his mouth to speak. Then his hands were all over him, urgent, demanding, kneading at flesh. He kissed him again and ran his hand over the solid bulge in his jeans. Xander hissed at the friction and barely managed to move his trembling legs towards his bedroom. Angel pulled him forward, lacing his fingers in his and walked backwards towards the bed.
He looked at him intently, eyes flashing briefly yellow, and Xander wondered for the first time exactly what this was leading to. He had loved their first encounter but would Angel want more this time? It was probably best not to think about it too much and just go with the flow.
Angel let go of his hands to pull open a dressing table drawer, and scrabbled around trying to find lubricant. He fished it out from under a skin magazine and tossed it on the bed. Xander’s eyes widened but Angel’s hands were on him again, pulling at his zipper, popping his top button, freeing his cock and covering it with a cool greedy hand.
Xander thrust into his loose fist a few times and willed himself to slow down. Somewhere along the way he had lost control of the situation and he so needed to be in control of the situation. He pushed Angel back on the bed and straddling across the tops of his thighs he tackled the buttons on his trousers. He yanked them, and his boxer shorts off awkwardly and then finished undressing himself.
Angel steadied his head as he engulfed his cock to the root, guiding him, setting the pace, until he couldn’t stand it any longer and simply laid back and enjoyed it. He couldn’t think of anything better at this moment than being encased in this heat, unless it was surrounding it or being surrounded by it. Xander fondled his balls gently, testing to see how much he liked the feel of him playing with them. Angel grabbed at handfuls of duvet and found the lube.
“Xander? I want to feel you inside me, can you …?
He handed him the half used tube and Xander started to pant slightly at the thought of Angel slicking himself up and pumping into his own fist. He took it and uncapped it, then squeezed a small amount onto Angel’s fingers. He guided his hand to his cock and bit his lip as he coated it. He felt a momentary sense of de`ja vu when he realised he didn’t really know what to do, but Angel was half sitting up now, leaning back and resting his own weight on his arms, so inviting, and Xander decide he would figure it out.
He clasped the sides of his hips and slid into Angel’s velvety coolness as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Angel felt the stretch and relaxed around him, it had been a while since he had done this and he had forgotten the pleasure, the indescribable feeling of having his prostate stroked by another cock.
Xander rocked into him, slowly at first, marvelling at the feel of himself gripped so tightly and enraptured by the blissful look on his face. He reached down and started pumping Angel in time with his thrusts, which got faster and deeper the more moans he elicited. He opened his eyes to see Angel fighting to keep his human countenance and thrust harder trying to get him to relinquish the hold.
He closed his eyes again as he came, and missed the sight of Angel spurting thick strands of come over his fingers and his own belly. He opened them again to sight of yellow eyes, fangs, and a ridged forehead. He collapsed over him pushing him back on the bed, too exhausted to care if he was going to die. He was surprised at the arms that snaked around his ribs and held on.
“That was so lovely,” he managed to say.
Xander lifted his head to look up at Angel, and saw his face melt back to his human visage.
“It was, it was incredible.” Angel tightened his arms around him. “Aren’t just a teensy bit worried I might be evil?”
“No.”
Xander slipped from inside him and crawled over him to lie at his side. He kissed him gently, then more passionately, enfolding him in a tight embrace, and then laid his head down so he could just look at him in comfort.
“No?”
“I never did understand why everyone would assume you would lose your soul just because you had sex. I guess with Buffy it was special, in a never to be repeated kinda way. I doubt you’d ever find that kind of peace again. I may have had a momentary wiggins when you slipped into game face though, living on the Hellmouth will do that to a guy.”
“Does Buffy know you’re here?”
“Yes, they all do, they just don’t know that I intend to stay. In fact the only person who does is Spike.” Angel turned his head sharply.
“Spike? Why did you tell Spike?”
“He’s minding the place for me. He guessed anyway.”
“At least you have somewhere to go back to, if you ever change your mind.”
“Yeah but the longer I leave it, the less likelihood there is of it resembling anything I’d wanna live in.”
“Still joking to hide your feelings. I won’t try to make you go back, I just doubt you’re cut out for this. To get Connor back from the Quor-toth is going to take some pretty dark magic’s and there’s no guarantee that any of us will survive, if we make it there. Holtz will be expecting some kind of assault to be launched. I would never under estimate him, he travelled through time to exact his revenge.”
Xander clasped the side of Angel’s face and tried to absorb the pain that was radiating from him into his hand. Angel stared back at the hope that was reflected in his eyes and clutched at it. He didn’t know why this felt real, but he was past caring and he had nothing else left to lose. Xander licked his lips nervously and pulled Angel into a sitting position.
“I have something that may start us on the right path. Willow found something for you.” He felt Angel stiffen in his arms even though his expression didn’t change.
“No, I haven’t wasted any time not telling you before now, it can’t be used yet, it has to be the right time and you need some pretty special ingredients to make the portection potion.”
“A protection potion? I’ve never …”
“No, a portection potion. It’s to protect us when we travel through the portal. It’ll get us in safely to the Quor-toth.”