A/N: The whole idea behind this is to switch Xander and Buffy's positions in the season one episode "Angel." That is, I've juxtaposed their roles – have Angel rescue Xander and having the kiss be between Xander and Angel as opposed to Buffy and Angel.
According to an interview with Joss Whedon, Xander was initially supposed to become gay, as opposed to Willow, in the fourth season. This, of course, shines through instantly in the rampant sexual tension between Xander and Angel, and of course Xander and Spike. It's why Xander had the "gay" conversation with Larry in "Phases" and why Xander constantly gets joked on with the gay references. Because I love Xander/Angel so much, I'm recreating one of the great points of season one through this viewpoint.
This is, for now at the very least, a one-shot. It's a thing that's for me (I've always wanted to do this but never really had the drive till now) but also for the fans/readers of my epic ongoing Buffy fic the Passion of Angels and Demons. The new chapter of that is finally posted, so here's a little something that I've wanted to do as a fun side project for a little while. I've enjoyed it and I hope you do too.
Warnings: Slash – non-graphic but thoughts of sex and stuff like that might enter in: it's rated 'T' for a reason; Xander/Angel pairing; violence; angst
Note: Although this follows the plot of "Angel" for the most part, it is not a direct adaptation of the episode – I'm going to be changing parts of it for my own purposes, but either way, there's a disclaimer down below.
I have changed dialogue in certain scenes, added scenes, and deleted scenes that wouldn't make sense in this AU version of "Angel." For instance, I always thought it was kind of weird how Giles didn't know who Angelus was until he looked at the Watchers' diaries when in the second season after Angel become evil Giles suddenly had whole volumes on Angelus, Spike and Drusilla. So I've gained the assumption that Giles is able to find what a cruel, evil bastard Angelus really was.
Also, this is going to be posted in three chapters, because this came out to about fifty pages (!) and I thought it would be good to end it like "chapters" so you guys could get a break, and also decide whether or not you want to read this anyway.
Important Note: I've said in this that Angelus killed three Slayers. This is invented by ME and is NOT cannon! I've added this because I always thought it was bogus that Spike killed two and Angelus is never mentioned as killing one, despite how much of a worse evil he was than Spike. Including the fact that Angelus was the first one to tell Spike about the Slayer, and that Spike said in "School Hard": "Time was, you would have killed her in a heartbeat." I'm going to assume that he's killed more Slayers than Spike.
DISCLAIMER: Buffy the Vampire Slayer was created by Joss Whedon (THE KING!), and is owned by Mutant Enemy (and I think maybe FOX, I'm not sure.) There is no copyright infringement intended by this work of fan fiction, and no money is being made.
"Angel" was written by David Greenwalt (THE GREAT!), and though this isn't going to follow the exact transcript except in certain parts, I'd like to credit BuffyWorld for the transcript. The transcript was written by AleXander Thompson, who does an amazing job with episode transcripts, just so you know; I think that he's done all of seasons one and two and a huge chunk of season three.
Alright, now that that's over with, here we are with the story!
Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Season One, Episode Four – "Teacher's Pet"
Xander (Upon seeing Angel for the first time): Well…he's buff. She never said anything about him being buff!
Willow: You think he's buff?
Xander: He's a very attractive man! How come that never came up?
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Fire & Ice
Chapter 1
Decode
The truth is hiding in your eyes
And it's hanging on your tongue
Just boiling in my blood
But you think that I can't see
What kind of man you are
If you're a man at all
Well, I will figure this one out
On my own
(I'm screaming I love you so
My thoughts you can't decode)
How did we get here?
I used to know you so well
But how did we get here?
I think I know…
"Decode" by Paramore (from Twilight (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)) 1
Sunnydale, California – a beautiful, quiet, southern Californian suburbia. It boasted a quiet place – about two hours from any big town in California, Sunnydale wasn't near any large fault lines (the last large earthquake had been in 1937), had its own lovely little beach, a large wood to the north, and ran into the desert on the way to Arizona on the East. Residents of Sunnydale either loved it or hated it, but all of them seemed to be oblivious to the true nature of the town.
Sunnydale was founded in the late 1800's after the original Spanish settlers had run, terrified from the town. The indigents had dubbed it Boca del Infierno, the Mouth of Hell. Sunnydale was in fact situated on a Hellmouth, a center of mystical convergence where the veils between the human world and the Hell realms are about as thick as old tissues. Vampires, demons, and the other nightmarish elements of the world were drawn to the town like an alcoholic to an ABC store.
Nearly a century ago, a very old, powerful master vampire known simply as "The Master" travelled to the Hellmouth. Heinrich Joseph Nest, as he was once known, led his cult of ancient, powerful vampires to the Hellmouth with the dream of opening the Hellmouth, unleashing Hell on Earth and bringing about the end of world. His apocalypse dreams were shattered, however, when the mystical forces he was attempting to control had backfired, causing the great earthquake of 1937 and trapping the Master in the old church he was in deep underground, like a cork in a bottle.
That hadn't stopped the Master, however. Now, 1997, sixty years later, he was still as powerful, still as charismatic and determined to finish the job and destroy the race of humans forever. His efforts were somewhat hampered, however, by Sunnydale's newest resident: Buffy Summers. Buffy was a small, beautiful, blonde SoCal girl…who also happened to be the Slayer, the Chosen One: the one girl in her generation born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness.
Buffy had already thwarted the Master's attempt to rise once before, on the Hallowed Eve of the Harvest. Thinking about that night and his Vessel, Luke's, failure, still made the Master want to keep this Slayer alive for days while he tortured her. The Master was more than 600 years old, and he had yet to meet a Slayer as dangerous as this one. He was thinking of this now as he spoke aloud.
"Zachary didn't return from the hunt last night," he said, his voice calm, quiet, and controlled. He stood in the midst of the ruins of his former stronghold. They were deep below ground, the old church smashed into a warren of sewer systems. Old, decaying earth mixed with the mildew of dripping water and sewage to form a scent of utter putrefaction strong enough to gag humans by the truckload. To the Master it smelled like the home of his coffin. He took a deep, unneeded breath now, to calm himself.
Collin, the small, four-year-old child, took another small stone from the Master's hand and tossed it into the pool. The Master and his greatest warrior, the Anointed One, were standing by the edge of a mystical pool of blood from which the Master had once raised magicks in a reckless attempt to open the Hellmouth.
"The Slayer," Darla breathed with a hiss of anger. The Master allowed himself comfort from her presence as well.
Darla…his greatest Childe, his favored daughter, the heiress of his kingdom. He had known from the moment he'd first glimpsed her on the streets of that small Virginia town four hundred years ago that she was something special. A woman of strength, of power, a possibility of master and of cruelty that had become a beautiful creature of the night when she had arisen from her grave after he had given her the Eternal Kiss.
"Zachary was strong, and he was careful," the Master continued presently. "And still the Slayer takes him…as she has taken so many of my family." He spoke of the Order of Aurelius, the greatest of all vampire covens, strong, proud and noble, ancient and magical. They followed the great demonic prophesies and served the power of the Old Ones, the pure demons, the true rulers of this world who would once again rule when the Order brought about the apocalypse. "It wears thin," he finished angrily. "Collin, what would you do about it?"
The Anointed One had arisen as foretold in the Book of Prophesy: And there will be a time of crisis, of worlds hanging in the balance. And in this time shall come the Anointed, the Master's great warrior... The Five will die, and from their ashes the Anointed shall rise. The Brethren of Aurelius shall meet him and usher him to his immortal destiny. ...the Slayer will not know him, will not stop him, and he will lead her into Hell…
The Master remembered the utter thrill he'd felt when the child/demon had walked calmly into his realm, the delicious sensation of victory when he'd known that his apocalypse was being set into motion, that the Slayer would have no choice but to fall victim to the Anointed One. But that day was far from now, and the Master could not but continue attempting to kill her. Such as now, when his rage felt like it was making his cold, dead blood boil with disgusting human life.
"I'd annihilate her," Collin said calmly, his child's voice dripping with evil.
"From the mouths of babes," the Master responded with a smile.
"Let me do it, Master!" Darla said, making her way over to them. She was dressed in a blue Catholic school uniform, giving her gorgeous face an innocent façade that delighted him as much as it repulsed him. Her full lips were curved in a pout as she stared up at him. "Let me kill her for you!"
"You have a personal interest in this," the Master said, flatly denying her request. Slayers were always dangerous, but this Slayer was different from her predecessors, rebelling against the mores of the Watchers' Council and the Slayer Handbook. That made her even more dangerous, and personal vendettas only led to sloppy mistakes even in the oldest of vampires. Luke had gone that way in his pride in his own fighting prowess, and the Master had lost one of his greatest warriors.
"I never get to have any fun," Darla whined, sighing in disappointment. The Master gave her an indulgent smile, but his mind was already whirring. You could never trust your entire life to prophesy; that could lead to never counting on anyone deviating from prophesy. No matter how many wheels had been set in motion to activate his apocalypse, he could never trust that the Slayer would not thwart another of his plans. That made her immediate death an attractive prospect.
And, if his normal warriors had failed…the best would need to be dispatched.
"I will send the Three," he said aloud.
"The Three?" Darla asked, her eyes wide and her lush mouth curving into a sultry smile. The Master grinned fiercely. Perhaps this night wouldn't be as bad as he'd thought.
888
The Bronze was packed that night, as it usually was. The Bronze was the only large nightclub in Sunnydale, a large building that boasted a bar and a limited food menu, balconies, comfortable seating, a large dance floor, pool tables, and a stage for when the club hosted a band. It had a small cover charge and allowed everyone from the age of thirteen and up in. It was technically in the "bad part of town" but as it was almost always packed with other people and had a very strict policy on no underage drinking parents tended to feel safe about allowing their teenagers to go. The lack of parental control also contributed to the Bronze being unofficially labeled as Sunnydale's very own house of hormones. It usually did a roaring business, but tonight was even better than usual.
Once a year, the Bronze closed for a week for fumigation in order to kill the inevitable cockroaches and rodents that revolved around an enormous building that always had a lot of trash, spilled drinks and food, and restroom facilities' castoff. The night before the Bronze officially closed was held as the annual "Fumigation Party" – no cover charge, and any dead or captured insect earned you a free drink. The club opened the party at five o'clock that night and wouldn't end until two the next morning.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer had never attended the party before, and after patrolling the fresh graves earlier that night Buffy had dusted two new vampires and then grabbed her two best friends, Willow and Xander, and taken off for a well-earned night of partying. Buffy herself was currently dancing, and much to the disgust of Cordelia Chase (Sunnydale High's most popular girl and mortal social enemy of Buffy and all of her associates) the beautiful blonde had a small crowd of guys dancing with her, admiring her moves.
Willow Rosenberg, one of Buffy's best friends, had two cups of Coke in her hands and sat back down at one of the café-style tables that Buffy and her friends had laid claim to earlier that evening. Willow was a shy but pretty girl who was off-the-charts-smart. She had pale, delicate skin, bright red hair, and pretty green eyes. She'd been exiled firmly into loserville due to her mousy shyness and timidity, and her way of dressing like a clichéd nerd. Lately Willow had come out of her shell in a large way thanks to her two best friends, Buffy and Xander.
Speaking of Xander…
Willow jumped when she realized that her friend was sitting next to her, sloshing Coke on her hands. "Xander, I didn't see you!"
Alexander "Xander" Harris was Buffy's other best friend, but he and Willow had been best buds since they were still playing in sandboxes. He was a loud, happy guy who had a racing sense of wit and couldn't seem to stop himself from cracking jokes, often at inopportune moments. This usually led people to think that he wasn't all that smart, especially because he never tried hard enough in school to make more than a C/D average. But anyone who actually knew Xander knew that he was extremely smart in his own way. And Willow knew him better than anyone – she'd been crushing on him since they were 5, anyway.
"Hey!" he said with a small smile. That in itself was worrying. Xander had a very expressive face, and when he actually smiled his whole face lit up. This was one of his "I'm thinking thinky thoughts" faces, and he didn't wear it all that often, just when he was chewing over something; usually something depressing.
"What's up?" Willow asked worriedly.
"Ah, I'm just thinkin'," Xander said with a shrug, taking a sip of his Coke. "You know, didn't really feel like I was wearing my dancing shoes tonight."
"So…we're talking deep thinking?" Willow asked.
"I don't know," Xander said with a shrug. He looked out over the crowd, and Willow thought she saw him looking at Buffy. Xander had a big crush on Buffy, and Willow was caught between feeling sorry at the obvious lack of reciprocation and jealousy.
"So, we're talking about a love type thing?" she asked, trying to keep the sadness out of her voice.
"Not exactly a love thing – I mean, for us to be having a conversation about a love thing there should be a love thing for us to have a conversation about. I mean, Buffy had Owen and half the guys in school, really, and that Angel freak—"
"So, you lack love?"
"I lack love," Xander agreed sadly. "Or any form of romantic entanglement. There is no tangling. Are these words?"
"Xander…" Willow said, unsure of what to say.
"I mean, I don't even know if I've ever really felt something like that," Xander went on, unusually introspective. "That's why that big bug freak—"
"Preying Mantis," Willow tacked on helpfully.
"Thanks," he said dryly.
"Xander, you've got all kinds of—"
"It's okay, Will," Xander said, flashing her a bright smile. "I don't even know what I'm saying. I'm just rambling. You know the guy thing. We don't talk about our feelings. Not that I'm in the guy club. If there's a club. Do you think they have cards? I want a card!"
"What are you guys doing over here?" Buffy asked, flashing up beside them breathlessly. She looked happier than they'd seen her in a while; color in her cheeks and her hair in stylish disarray. "I actually told Cordelia to shut up straight to her face for the first time in a week and it's boosted my boost!" she continued enthusiastically. Xander and Willow both sighed, thoroughly depressed by their conversation, and took swigs of Coke.
"We're sitting here and watching our barren lives pass us by," Willow summarized. Buffy paused and eyed them searchingly.
"Okaaaay…" she said, plopping down, some of the wind out of her sails. "Let's all sit and breathe before we pass out from fun."
"Okay, now I'm infecting you guys, too," Xander declared. He downed his Coke in one big swig and let out an impressive belch. "I'm going home."
"Hey, you OK?" Buffy asked, concerned.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Xander threw his jacket on. "See you guys tomorrow!"
888
Angel stood in the shadows under the stairs leading up to the balcony of the Bronze. He'd spent more time in these shadows than he cared to admit. But there was always so much to see at the Bronze, so much of the teeming passions of humanity. Here he could observe the opera that was daily existence for the everyday world. Here he saw love met and loves meeting again, love ending and fights ensuing. Friendships withered or bloomed. Here he could watch, unnoticed, as he saw what he'd been recruited to fight for.
It was more beautiful and precious than any of these humans could know – most of them had no idea how quickly it could end, how absolutely there could be nothing else. Light, love, laughter…life. Everyone takes it for granted, until something takes it away, he thought morosely. Well, most people – he peered closer at the group of humans he'd come here to see in particular.
Buffy was as beautiful as she always was, and he paused as he looked at her again. He couldn't easily describe his emotions when he saw the Slayer; it took him back to that ethereal moment when he'd first seen her. There was so much of her tied up in his destiny – the battle between good and evil that he'd bee drawn into because of her. Her light, her innocence, despite what she'd been forced to battle, they called to him, brought out his protective nature.
Right now she was with the other ones, her friends. That alone confounded him; that a Slayer would have family and friends was utterly unheard of. He paused as he took them in: the shy redheaded girl and the loud, puppyish boy smiling at the Slayer. Somehow he respected them even more than he respected Buffy. The Slayer had been chosen for her destiny, but those two humans had chosen to help her.
He watched as Buffy gave the boy a hug, and he watched with his brow quirked. The few times that he'd met Xander the boy seemed to have a perpetual smile on his face. Except for when he'd spoken to Angel; for some reason the boy seemed to be very angry with him. Angel wouldn't admit to the slight pang of hurt that he felt whenever the boy snapped at him. He wanted so very much to be accepted by this bright group of humans, to seek his redemption with them. He laughed at himself for a weakling when he thought of this.
Xander broke off and threw his jacket on, heading out of the Bronze without the Slayer. Angel frowned; this was dangerous, especially in Sunnydale. It was hard sometimes to remember that you were only human when your best friend was the Slayer. Angel slipped out of the shadows to follow the boy. Maybe Xander didn't want his help but he could still protect him.
888
Xander sighed as he headed out of the Bronze. The night air had a slight chill to it and his thin jacket wasn't doing much to get rid of it. He wound his arms around himself and walked a little faster.
He thought back to the conversation-that-wasn't with Willow and sighed again. Truth was he didn't know why this was bothering him so much. It wasn't like he never got any action (okay, not so much since high school) but it wasn't the horniness that was getting to him so much as…well, Xander was just a relationship kinda guy. You wouldn't know it to listen to him, cuz talking about that stuff was kind of gay, but still.
And it's not like Buffy's going to notice me any time soon, he thought, now thoroughly depressed. Definitely time for country music – something of the Patsy Cline oeuvre. What the hell did that word even mean, anyway? It's an annoying word. Like French. French is a stupid language.
He rubbed the back of his neck. He'd been feeling eyes on him all night and it was really starting to wig him out. He glanced over his shoulder again as he turned down a side street to cut across to main street which would get him home. Sure, it sounded good in theory, but that was before he saw the big guy who was standing at the end of the alley, watching him calmly, blocking his path. In Sunnydale? This was never a good thing.
"Boy," the big man dude snarled.
"Man," Xander answered, automatic sniping. In reality his legs were knocking together and his hand was clutching the stake in his pocket hard enough to make his fingers ache. Relax, Xander told himself firmly. There are other bad things out there than vampires…WAIT, brain! Was that supposed to relax me?! Shaking even harder now, Xander contemplated making a break for it before serial killer boy jumped him.
"He is the Slayer's pet," the man in the alley announced. Xander started shaking even worse now. Definitely a vampire; now that he was closer he could see the awful demonic face. What the hell was up with the body armor? This guy looked straight out of a middle ages nightmare and Xander was not appreciating it. "Where is she?"
"Where's who?" Xander demanded, backing away…right into the arms of two even larger vamps in medieval junk. "Oh, sh—"
Before he could say anything else a huge fist slammed into the vampire on his left and then an elegant kick dispatched the one on his right and Xander turned and Angel was right there next to him, large and buff and Xander had never been so glad to see anyone else in his life. "Good dogs don't bite," Angel snapped, slamming his fist down onto one of Xander's attackers. He grabbed Xander and threw him protectively behind him. "Are you alright?" he asked, his soft brown eyes roving Xander's form.
"Huh?" Xander asked intelligently. Angel smiled softly, and Xander caught a glimpse of white teeth before someone screamed "Look out!" and dropped them both.
Angel covered Xander protectively as Buffy appeared out of nowhere with Willow at her side, wielding a stake. All three vampires flew at her at once. Buffy smashed one with her fist, but it barely fazed him. He smashed her head with one gauntlet-covered fist and she crashed into the wall. Willow ducked out of the way and hid as Buffy leapt to her feet and smashed a foot into one, throwing her stake directly at his heart, but it was covered with armor.
Angel threw himself off of Xander and smashed into one of the vampires, taking it down. The other one that wasn't fighting Buffy threw itself at Angel with an enraged snarl and snagged a bar off of a window, slashing Angel's ribs with a meaty thunk. "Angel!" Xander yelled, and, not taking a moment to think about the stupidity of his actions, he grabbed a big plank and slammed it on the vampire's head.
Angel leapt up and grabbed Xander just as Buffy kicked one away from her and screamed "SPLIT!" She grabbed Willow and ran in one direction, toward her house. Xander grabbed Angel and charged toward his house. The three vampires roared in frustration behind them and Xander heard one split from the other two and follow him and Angel.
"Come on!" Xander yelled, panicked, and sprinted full tilt towards the cracked side street that led to his small house. There was nothing in his head but getting them away from soldier psycho who was gaining on them no matter how heavy that armor had to be. Then there was his house, which looked so welcoming that he thought he might sob in relief. "Get in! Go go go!" he yelled at Angel, and threw himself inside.
Angel crashed in moments later and they slammed the door on the snarling vampire outside. The vamp slammed his fist into Xander's door, which creaked from the impact, and Xander jumped back against the wall in fright. "It's okay," Angel said from beside him, his voice soothing. "Vampires can't come in unless they're invited."
"I've heard that but it's new to watch," Xander panted, realizing that he was still trembling. Angel gently put one of his big hands on Xander's shoulder and Xander shivered. Angel's fingers felt soft and rough at the same time, a very masculine feeling and Xander wondered what they'd feel like somewhere else. Okay, I'm way stressed, he thought with a shiver. I am not thinking about Angel's hands!
"Are you okay?" Angel asked, his voice deep and husky, his eyes large, deep, concerned. Xander forced his eyes away from Angel's face and suddenly fastened on the bloody gash in Angel's side.
"Oh, god," he exclaimed, jumping away from Angel's touch. "Get in the kitchen and I'll grab some bandages!" He shoved Angel toward the kitchen, and Angel gave him a strange, indulgent smile as he obeyed the command. Angel's eyes were glittering with something not easily placed. Xander shivered slightly again and then bolted up the stairs. His hands were shaking as he entered the little bathroom and grabbed the old first aid kit. He had a sudden fear that Angel wouldn't like his tiny, beat-up old house, and he felt a twinge of embarrassment at the ramshackle knick knacks and bric-a-brac, the peeling wallpapers and thin walls. What the hell do I care if Angel likes where I live? Xander asked himself.
He set down the stairs slowly. It was good that tonight was bowling night, at the very least; his parents wouldn't be home for hours. He was willing to really bet that Angel wouldn't be all that impressed by his parents drunken-fueled rage sessions. He sighed as he walked into the kitchen and then froze as Angel saw him and unselfconsciously shrugged off his jacket and peeled his white tee-shirt off. Not that there's anything to be self-conscious about, Xander thought after a second. Angel was tall and broad-shouldered, his skin pale, with defined pectorals and the rippling of a faint six pack apparent on his stomach. Xander noticed that Angel's nipples were a dark, wine red against Angel's pale skin, and they hardened under his gaze. Angel's eyes still had that strange light in them as he turned slightly away from Xander.
Angel had a tattoo, it turned out, on his right shoulder blade – some fairytale bird thing around a big gothic A. Xander had a sudden inclination to see what it felt like above the rippling back muscles and he shook himself so hard that he almost dropped the box of band-aids. "Nice ink," he said flatly, striding over toward Angel in a businesslike manner.
Angel turned toward him with a slightly questioning smile and Xander ducked his head down. His eyes went past Angel nipples (nipples of Angel!) and toward the nasty-looking gash on Angel's side. "Hold still," he said, and dumped some hydrogen peroxide on the wound. Angel didn't move, which was kind of weird and a little cool, too. Xander took some vindictive pleasure in taking away some of that aura of cool that Angel always seemed to have with him like a cloak by putting on some Power Rangers band aids to cover Angel's wound. He looked up to see Angel meeting his grin with a smirk of his own, and then they were both grinning and laughing in some form of pent up relief.
"Thank you for coming along when you did," Xander said after a moment. Angel ducked his head slightly, which was comical considering how much taller than him the other guy was. Xander wondered how old Angel was; the guy couldn't have been much older than 24, if that. "How did you just happen to come along when you did?" Xander asked after a moment. And it was a good question, too; it occurred to Xander that other than the fact that he knew a lot about vampires and the Buffster thought he was hot, he really didn't know anything about Angel.
"Uh…I live nearby," Angel said after a moment. "I was out walking." Xander didn't believe him for one minute, but somehow Angel didn't really seem all that threatening, so maybe he could let that one slide.
"It just seems like you might've been following me," Xander said after a moment. There wasn't a lot to do in his dingy little kitchen except look, and Angel still hadn't put his shirt on, which for some reason was making Xander acutely uncomfortable, and he was always more comfortable with words than with silences. It was hard to interpret silences.
"Why would I do that?" Angel asked, his lips curving upwards into another smirk. Angel smirked a lot, Xander was beginning to notice, but the difference between Angel's smirk and, oh, say, Cordelia's smirk was that Angel didn't seem to be making fun of him, more like laughing with him. It made Xander feel kinda warm. He smirked back at Angel.
"You tell me – you're the big mystery guy that can't seem to talk about anything but the big ookie-spookie," Xander commented. Had Angel stepped closer or was the kitchen always this small?
"Maybe I like you," Angel said, his voice quiet, husky. Xander felt trapped suddenly by the counter, by the lack of space between him and a gorgeous half-naked man – gorgeous?! he thought, panicked, and abruptly tripped and fell flat on his ass. Angel's mouth opened before he started laughing. Xander stared up at him, face red, as Angel just laughed. It was a rusty sort of sound, as if he wasn't used to laughing much at all.
"Thanks," Xander said sarcastically. Angel grinned shamelessly, his white teeth flashing. Xander stood up quickly and handed Angel his shirt back. "Here," he said – well, it looked cold seeing how Angel's nipples looked like stop yourself right now! Xander told his brain sternly. "Mr. Make Me Fall Guy," he said instead, still red in the face.
"Sorry," Angel said softly. His fingers brushed Xander's as he took the shirt and Xander turned toward the sink.
"You want something to drink?" Xander asked quickly. Cold water cold water cold water, he chanted to himself as he grabbed a couple of cups out of the old creaky cupboard.
"No, thank you," Angel said quickly. "Er," he said after a moment. Xander turned from the fridge to see Angel standing there awkwardly, still shirtless, holding his shirt – which had a bloody gash in it.
"Whoops," Xander said, embarrassed. "I'll get you something real quick."
"No, really, it's fine; you've already—" Angel began.
"No, I've got to get you something," Xander started, turning around and then making a strangled sort of noise because Angel was somehow right behind him and they almost crashed into each other. "Gah! Make more noises when you walk, you creeper!" Xander yelped.
"Sorry," Angel said again, but he was smiling that stupid smile again which was going a long way toward dissipating Xander's anger already and Xander smiled back and headed up the stairs before he said something embarrassing. Or even more embarrassing. Embarrassinger. Was that even a word? Xander grabbed a stray piece of shirt from the floor and hurried back downstairs where Angel stood, looking awkward. Angel was just so wrong there in the dark, depressing, shabby setting of the Harris house. Xander was suddenly glad with a vengeance that his parents weren't here.
Angel pulled the shirt on with a grateful smile in Xander's direction, and Xander snorted when he realized that he'd given Angel his Mr. Bubbles sleep shirt. It was old and practically see-through, and it made Angel look like his was modeling something because it did nothing to hide his body. Which had been the intention of the shirt, Xander realized belatedly. He told himself sternly to stop his fixation on Angel's nipples, which were still hard and the shirt wasn't doing a thing to hide it. Angel caught him staring as he was shrugging his coat back on, and he gave Xander a quizzical look.
"Nothing," Xander said, blushing.
"I'll give you the shirt back soon," Angel promised as he started towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Xander asked dumbly.
"Home," Angel said.
"But…you can't go now!" Xander declared. He didn't know why he said it, truly; he just didn't want Angel to leave.
"Why?" Angel asked, his brow quirked. That look was coming back into his eyes and Xander ducked his head.
"Because…uh…those freaks could still be out there!" Xander said loudly, blocking Angel's way. "And you're wearing my Mr. Bubbles tee shirt and he just doesn't leave the house; I mean if you got attacked and got blood all over my shirt I'd have to hunt you down and heal you again and—"
"Do you ever breathe?" Angel asked exasperatedly, stopping the babble mid-flow.
"Sometimes," Xander said, going red in the face again.
"So I can't leave because I might get killed or because I might bleed on your shirt?" Angel asked, smiling softly. Xander was starting to like that little smile as much as he really didn't like that smile, which didn't even make sense. Oxymoron, that's what that'd be called. That's such a stupid word, Xander thought. "Xander?" Angel asked, smiling wider as he called Xander out of his thoughts.
"Oxymoron is a dumb word," Xander declared flatly, then turned and headed for the stairs.
"What?" Angel asked, confused.
"It is. It's like exercise. You say 'exercise' to yourself enough, it makes no sense. Hurry up; it's almost time for the parentals to be home," Xander called over his shoulder. Angel stood in the living room, dumbfounded, for another moment before he hesitantly headed up the stairs.
Xander was already in his room when Angel softly stepped in, shutting the door behind him. Xander was at his closet, staring in. "You're wearing Mr. Bubbles," Xander said morosely as he stared at his closet. "You're gonna have to turn around and check for the fang gang while I throw something else on." Sure, he and Angel were both guys, but it wasn't like he wanted to change in front of him. God knows why. Angel didn't seem to think that it was unusual; he nodded his head politely and headed for the window.
"I don't see them," he reported after a moment.
"Angel, can I ask you a question?" Xander asked. He settled on a white undershirt that had seen better days and a pair of old boxers.
"Sure," Angel said after a moment.
"Why…I mean, really, who are you? Buffy's all Slayer-like; Giles is Watcherly, what's your excuse?"
"Somebody has to," Angel said shortly. He sounded uncomfortable.
"Well, what does your family think?" Xander asked curiously. He really didn't know who Angel was; none of them did. Where did he come from? Xander was filled with an intense curiosity. Who was this guy who popped out of nowhere with the cryptic warnings and the intense looks and the deep, brooding eyes…
"They're dead," Angel said flatly, bringing Xander out of his daze. There wasn't any emotion in his voice at all, but Xander could tell by the tortured hunch of Angel's shoulders that he didn't want to think or talk about this at all.
"I'm sorry," Xander said softly. He put his hand on Angel's shoulder, and Angel shuddered slightly before pulling away from the contact, putting distance between them. Xander didn't want that distance there; Angel was a fascination that he wanted to puzzle out and he couldn't seem to leave it alone. "Was it vampires?"
"It was," Angel said, not meeting his eyes. There was a story there, probably a long one, but not one that Xander particularly wanted to know. "It was a long while ago." Xander frowned; there was something about the way Angel talked sometimes, a cadence that didn't sound quite right, but he couldn't really put his finger on it and so he shrugged and let it go.
"What about you?" Angel asked suddenly, and Xander froze.
"Sorry?" he stuttered.
"You just seem very bent on helping Buffy," Angel said. His eyes were a little hard, somehow darker. Xander didn't like to look at them too much.
"I can't just sit back and do nothing," Xander said, backing away slightly.
"No, that's not it," Angel said flatly. He was advancing on Xander somehow, crowding him, and Xander was starting to feel a sort of panic. "What is it about vampires that makes you hate them so much?" There was an odd sort of catch in his voice that Xander didn't care to figure out.
"Nothing," Xander said flatly, shoving past him, but Angel suddenly had his big hands, hell, everything about Angel was so big, and he had those hands on Xander's shoulders and they were close enough that Xander felt like he'd be shocked by electricity if they were closer.
"Tell me," Angel said, his eyes boring into Xander's.
"They killed my best friend!" Xander snarled, and jerked away from Angel to collapse on his bed, breathing hard. He was so angry and also so sad that he couldn't see straight and he didn't even notice that Angel had sat down next to him until Angel's hand tentatively took his and Xander found himself staring into Angel's eyes.
"Tell me," Angel said, gently, softly.
"His name was Jesse," Xander said after an eternity. "The very first night that Buffy was here, we were all supposed to meet in the Bronze. I got there late, Willow and Jesse were already there. Buffy showed up and told me that Willow was in trouble…I didn't believe her about the vampire stuff but she looked serious as a heart attack, so I went…
"When we got to the cemetery Willow and Jesse were in a grave thingy with two vamps. Buffy dusted one but the other one got away. Me and Willow got out. Jesse got turned. When he showed up at the Bronze I killed him," Xander finished savagely.
"I'm so sorry, Xander," Angel said quietly. "I had no idea."
"We don't talk about it much," Xander said. "You know, I only have the one bed," he said after a second, cutting off what Angel was about to say and effectively ending the conversation.
"So you'll take it," Angel said, moving away from him.
"No," Xander said, "You're injured. You're taking it."
"I'm not taking your bed, Xander – I've had worse," Angel said.
"And I don't care," Xander said stubbornly. "You saved my life, Angel! Take the bed!"
"You patched me up!" Angel said obstinately. "I'm not taking your bed—"
"Yes, you are," Xander said flatly, glaring.
"No," Angel said, glaring right back, and laid himself down on the floor right there.
"Fine!" Xander snapped. He grabbed his pillows off the bed and threw one at Angel, which hit the older man in the face. Angel stared at him incredulously as Xander threw him a blanket, took one for himself, set a pillow down and laid down on the floor right next to Angel.
"You…you—this is ridiculous…" Angel stammered, staring at him.
"Good night," Xander said with a sunny grin in Angel's direction. "You'd better not snore." He laid down on his pillow, threw a blanket over himself, and shut his eyes. Angel was still laying there, staring at him, a strange, confused expression on his face. He heard a deep sigh and the creak of the floor when Angel laid down on the pillow and took a blanket.
"It's been a long time since anyone's been in the position to let me know…if I snore," Angel said quietly. For some reason, Xander held that thought and drifted to sleep with a smile on his face.
888
Xander woke up feeling…safe, comforted. He wasn't too sure what else he felt like but he felt too good just now to get up and shut the damn alarm clock off. He felt a gentle intake of breath under his head as the thing went to sleep for a few moments (waiting for round two, which was louder) and jerked his eyes open. Angel had taken his shirt off during the night, laying it gently folded next to the pillow he was using.
Xander's pillow looked untouched, most likely because his sleeping body had decided that spooning Angel was far more comfortable. His head was pillowed on one of Angel's firm pectorals, his arm around Angel's waist like Angel was his favorite teddy bear. Their legs were pretty well tangled. It should have been uncomfortable, really, but it felt…nice. Better than nice. Wonderful. Like he was squeezing a big, beautiful, dangerous teddy bear. For a moment he snuggled in, until he felt Angel twitch underneath him.
He was spooning with a guy!!!!!
Xander sat straight up and slammed his hand down on the 'off' switch of his stupid alarm clock. He couldn't bear to meet Angel's eyes; he knew that Angel was awake but he didn't feel like dealing with that right now. Didn't feel like dealing with a lot of things right now, and denial was just a river in Egypt that Xander was going to happily swim a few rounds in. For a good, long time.
He couldn't help himself from turning at the door, to see Angel. The other man lay on his back, his chest rising and falling, every muscle sharply defined. His beautiful face was turned toward Xander and Xander sighed as something indefinable but sharp, painful and somehow as beautiful as hell slammed into his stomach when Angel smiled a sleepy smile in his direction and said "Good morning."
"Morning," Xander forced out, turned and fled to the safety of the bathroom. What the hell is wrong with me?! he thought frantically. His whole body was shivering but not in cold or in fear, more a tingling that was building up from the base of his spine that seemed to be excitement. He jumped and yelled as a fist pounded on the door.
"Are you up yet?" his mom yelled in.
"Yeah!" he yelled, trying to get his heartbeat down.
"Good! I'm making coffee!" she yelled right back and started her usual morning slump down the stairs. There must have been quite a bender at the bowling alley last night; he'd have to see if the car was alright. He assumed that a morning wouldn't go normally at the Harris household if a car crash or vehicular manslaughter had occurred the night before.
Angel's in my bedroom! he thought suddenly. Shit! He bolted out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut in record time. Angel stared up at him curiously. "Hi," Xander said weakly. He didn't want to think about how good Angel looked as he lay there in a tangle of bedsheets, shirtless and rumpled, his eyes like warm black coffee as they lingered on Xander. His lush lips curved up in that little smirk that Xander liked/didn't like and Xander thought frantically that it should be impossible for a person to look that good that early in the morning.
Morning…that meant that Angel would leave. Xander didn't want Angel to leave, anymore than he had last night, even though he couldn't explain the feeling at all. "How are you feeling?" he asked, gesturing at Angel's gash that was still covered in Power Rangers band-aids.
"Oh, it's fine," Angel said dismissively. He sat up and stretched and Xander watched in fascination as Angel's well-defined muscles stretched with him, his pale skin so apparent in the daylight streaming in through Xander's blinds. It made his nipples even darker than they were and will you stop fixating on Angel's nipples?! Xander told himself hysterically.
"Yeah, but you're wounded, and you can't leave now," Xander said decisively.
"Xander—"
"No, really! I'm not gonna let you outta here until I'm sure that I've saved your ass because you saved mine! That's just the way that it works! So sit down!" Angel hesitantly sat back down, eyeing Xander with that smirk of his that made Xander smile back but then he turned away because he had a feeling that Angel was about to argue and he didn't want to be swayed. He wouldn't be swayed by coffee-eyes. Not one bit.
"Thank you," Angel said softly. Xander turned from his closet to see Angel regarding him from under his lashes. He looked…almost sad, like he couldn't quite figure out why Xander was doing this. Hell, neither can I, Xander thought with a smirk of his own.
"Don't worry about it," Xander said firmly, and was rewarded with a big Angel-smile with the white teeth and the lips and Xander's legs went a little weak but he ignored that and threw a pair of pants on because apparently he was getting his usual morning wood and it would not be good to show that to Angel because maybe Angel would get the wrong idea and think that it was for him and it so totally wasn't because Angel was a guy and that would be wrong. Xander tossed a button-up on over his sleep shirt and grabbed his backpack from where he'd tossed it after school yesterday.
"I'll be back from school when I can," Xander said. "Um…try to not tell my parents that you're here?" he suggested as an afterthought. Not that he thought that his parents wouldn't be cool with the fact that a random friend had stayed the night, more that he didn't want Angel to meet his drunken parents and he didn't want to see pity in Angel's eyes. Friend, he thought suddenly. He'd thought of Angel as a friend.
"I'll do what I can," Angel said with a grin.
"Okay," Xander said. He gave Angel his best 'I'm thinking nothing' grin and hurried out of the bedroom even though a large part of him wanted to stay. He didn't know why yes you do, said a nasty little voice in his mind. Shut up, brain! Xander said to himself flatly. And he didn't know, so there.
Feeling none too relieved, or sure of his own thoughts, Xander shut his door and headed out to school.
888
"Oh my God Xander!" he heard before Buffy and Willow practically clotheslined him when they gave him a hug. He thought he heard his back pop when Buffy hugged him but he couldn't be sure because she was squeezing the air out of him.
"Hi," he said weakly as he hit solid earth again.
"We were so worried about you!" Buffy said as they stepped back.
"Well, I'm fine. Angel saved my neck," Xander said after a moment. Blushing. Why was he blushing?
"Is he okay?" Willow asked.
"Yeah – I gave him first aid," Xander said. "He's staying at my house today."
"Where did he sleep last night?" Buffy asked curiously.
"Well, there was this thing and we were on the floor so—"
"We?" Willow asked, her eyebrow raised.
"Yeah, so?" Xander said defensively. Buffy and Willow exchanged meaningful looks.
"Nothing," Buffy said after a moment, eyeing Xander in a way that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.
"What?" he snapped, irritably.
"Nothing," Buffy and Willow said at the same time, exchanging that stupid mysterious girl smile. "Let's head to the library," Buffy said before he could say anything else, and they steered him away before he could say anything else.
888
Rupert Giles was Buffy's Watcher, a member of the mysterious Watcher's Council, located in Britain. The Watchers had been around since the first Slayer, and the Watcher trained the Slayer and prepared her for whatever fights she may or may not have. Giles was like an encyclopedia with arms; he had been working for the British Museum before he'd been called to be Buffy's Watcher and now worked as the Sunnydale High School librarian.
The library was where the Scooby Gang, as Xander called them, spent most of their time – hanging out or researching the latest creature feature of the Hellmouth. Giles was sitting at the main table, surrounded by books, when they all walked in. "Are you all alright?" he asked as soon as they all walked in. Xander felt a rush of warmth like he always did; Giles was like a sort of uncle to all of them. He worried about them, which was a nice difference from his day to day life.
"Yeah, it's cool," Xander said, plopping down at the table. Willow sat next to him and Buffy moved across the table to sit next to Giles. "Angel popped out of nowhere and saved my butt last night." Buffy and Willow caught each others' gazes and burst into a fit of giggles. "What?!" Xander asked exasperatedly. "It's not funny! I was almost vampire kibble!"
"Sorry, Xan," Buffy said. "So, how'd you get Angel's shirt off last night?" Her voice was way too innocent.
"Well, there was first-aid involved…" he said uneasily.
"I'm sure there was," Willow said, smiling just like Buffy.
"Well, not when you guys make it sound all dirty like that," Xander said. "This isn't that big of a joke! Angel saved my butt so I saved his. End of story. You guys make it sound like you think I have a crush on him." Xander blushed furiously as soon as he said it. Why am I blushing?! he thought angrily. He'd blushed enough last night, he thought, and that brought back pictures of Angel with his shirt off. Stupid body! he thought to himself angrily.
"Can we perhaps steer this riveting conversation back to the vampires?" Giles asked tiredly, cleaning his glasses. Giles tended to clean his glasses a lot, particularly when he was either frustrated or talking to a teenager. Maybe that always went hand in hand. Jeeze. "You left the Bronze last night and were set upon by three large, unusually strong vampires?" Giles went on.
"Yeah. I think they were going to use me as bait in a big Slayer-trap," Xander said.
"I think that was a safe assumption. You were very lucky that Angel showed up when he did," Giles said baldly. "Was this them?" He held up an illustration in the book that Buffy had originally found the Order of Aurelius in – the Master's vampire cult thing, if Xander remembered right. Right there was a picture of the three nutjobs from last night, complete with their weird armor costumes.
"Yeah, that's them," Buffy said. "What's with the costumes?"
"You were attacked last night by 'The Three,' an ancient warrior sect of vampires – very proud and very strong."
"How is it you always know this stuff?" Willow asked, staring up at Giles admiringly. "You always know what's going on – I never know what's going on."
"Well, you weren't here from midnight until six this morning researching it," Giles commented.
"No, I was sleeping," Willow said sheepishly.
"You're obviously hurting the Master very much," Giles told Buffy proudly. "He wouldn't send the Three after just anybody. We must step up our training with weapons."
"Party," Buffy commented, sitting back down. "Are we all okay? I mean, since we all got away."
"What?"
"Will there be a revenge scenario?" Xander interpreted.
"Yeah, because I kind of kicked one of them in the family jewels to get Willow and I away fast enough. Those guys were seriously tough and seriously pissed," Buffy recounted. "I'm not gonna look forward to throwing down again unless…hey, can I get a sword?" she asked excitedly, jumping up.
"You're way too excited about that," Xander decided.
"You should probably be more concerned, seeing as how Angel's still at your house right now…in your bedroom – probably in your bed," Buffy said with that curious inside joke look at Willow.
"Not in my bed, by my bed," Xander said, aggrieved.
"Well, none of you are in immediate danger," Giles cut in. "The Three, having failed, will now follow the ritual through and offer their lives to the Master in penance."
888
The largest of the Three, an ancient assassin before he was turned, held an old, ritual spear out to the Master as he knelt beside his brethren. "We failed in our duty, and now our lives belong to you."
They knelt before the Master, and on his right side stood the Anointed One, and on the Master's left stood Darla. Glancing at the Master, Darla casually took the spear out of the assassin's hands and sauntered away. The Master regarded his failed warriors with his face void of expression.
"Pay attention, child," the Master said, crouching down next to the Anointed One. "You are the Anointed, and there is much you must learn. With power comes responsibility. True, they did fail, but also true, we who walk at night share a common bond. The taking of a life – I'm not talking about humans, of course – is a serious matter."
"So you would spare them?" the Anointed asked.
The Master paused, and hung his head. For a moment he allowed the weight of his mantle to fall on his shoulders. His rage boiled over and he wanted something young and human beneath his hands to feel the crack as he snapped its bones and fed on its blood. He pictured the Slayer's death and did not feel calmer. Instead he turned and raised his blood-red eyes to Darla.
"I am weary, child, and their deaths will bring me little joy." Her entire face lit up with demonic joy as she raised the spear and plunged it deep into the first of the Three's heart. The demon had a moment to raise his head in shock and pain before he exploded into ancient ash and graveyard dust. "Of course, sometimes a little joy is enough," he commented offhandedly to the Anointed One as he walked away without a backward glance.
Behind him, Darla slaughtered the next.
888
Xander slowly walked home as the sun was setting. He hated winter; the days were short and it made him want to stay home, even though home…well, sucked. He hurried up his walk as he glanced around him. Sunset in Sunnydale was always a good time to heading inside. You never knew what could be lurking out there in the dark.
Xander opened the door and dropped his backpack by the phone. He heard his parents in the kitchen and sighed before he headed in. "Hey, Xander," his mother said absently as she searched through the freezer for a microwave meal.
"Hi, Mom," Xander said quietly. His dad had his head in his hands on the table, and whether or not the bills were giving him a headache or the hangover from last night was currently torturing him, but Xander had learned early that it was never a great idea to disturb his father when he had a headache. "We ran out of the stuff last night. I left you a note."
"It's okay, I'll call for some pizza," she said, sitting down.
"You guys win?" Xander asked as he grabbed some old leftovers from the fridge and popped them in the microwave. Thank god for tupperware, he thought, because they were pretty plateless.
"Nah," she said as she lit up a cigarette.
"Would you two shut up?" Tony Harris snapped. "You're eating again? What the hell else do you do? Why don't you try to do some homework for once and get the hell out of here while I figure out how to feed your worthless ass?"
"Sorry, Dad," Xander said quietly, grabbed the tupperware out of the microwave and hurried out of the kitchen. He wasn't hungry but Angel might be.
888
Angel sat very still next to Xander's bed and thought the same worthless, circling thoughts that he'd been thinking all day. Either way he came to the same conclusion – he was screwed, in a big way. His nose was filled with the scent of Xander and he wanted it gone, wanted it out, but it wasn't going to be that easy.
Xander wasn't just in his nose, he was everywhere. Angel thunked his head against the wall behind him in self-disgust. Who the hell was he kidding? He wanted Xander to like him and that was unacceptable. How old was he? Xander was only 16 years old! And he didn't have a clue who Angel really was, and if he did? He'd either be running out the door or he'd try to kill him.
He had to consider those choices because they were the choices that Xander would make. It didn't matter that Xander had been staring at him, the arousal obvious in his eyes and in his scent. It didn't matter that he'd been awake for nearly the entire night as Xander's sleeping body wrapped itself around his. He'd never lain down with anyone who put off as much sheer body heat as Xander did; it was lying down with a heater.
It had been heaven.
Xander looked at him like he was normal, not like he was a hero or a mystery man the way that Buffy did. And wasn't he supposed to be thinking about Buffy? But he wasn't. All he was thinking of was Xander's brilliant smile, his laughter, his hesitant, shy glances at Angel's naked chest—stop that right now, Angel told himself sternly.
There was only one thing to do – not see Xander again. That would be easy enough. He'd thank him for taking care of him for a night and then he'd leave, vanish the way that he'd gotten so good at vanishing and only appear if Buffy or her friends really, truly needed his help.
At least, that was what he'd thought, but when he'd heard Xander come home, heard the careless words his father had thrown at him, he'd felt himself filled with a possessiveness he hadn't felt since…since the bad time, the time that he never allowed himself to think of. Who was that bastard that could say such things to a boy who was clearly sweet and gentle, kind and loving, who stuck up for people and would give his own life to protect his friends' if the occasion called for it and nearly had on multiple occasions?
All he wanted was to hold Xander and tell him that it was alright. But that was a crazy, ridiculous thought. Angel wasn't worthy of him, anyway. It was time to get out of here and out of this before either of them took a step further, because Xander might not be able to tell what his body was telling Angel with every gesture and meeting of eyes, but Angel knew, and he couldn't afford to do this to either of them.
That was before Xander walked in, his large, beautiful brown eyes hurt but welcoming as he took Angel in and held out his offering of food. He had still brought food up for him, had given his bed up for him, had done these things for him and Angel knew that he really was screwed in every sense.
888
Angel had a strange light in his eyes when Xander entered the room, a strange way that he was looking at Xander himself and Xander felt a shiver crawl up his spine, a pleasurable sort of tingling. He fiercely attempted to ignore this, and stepped forward with the tupperware. "I brought you some dinner before you headed out," he said. "It's a little…uh, plateless – sorry," he apologized, suddenly embarrassed that Angel had had to stay in his house, had had to listen to his father…
"Thank you," Angel said, his voice husky.
"No big," Xander said, a little uneasily.
"Really, Xander – thank you, for everything." Angel smiled at him warmly and Xander smiled back. "Are you…um, okay?" Angel asked.
"Why?" Xander asked.
"I mean, with…with your father and everything…" Angel trailed off awkwardly.
"Oh, it's fine," Xander said, blushing. He couldn't meet Angel's eyes. "It's great, I mean he just has a headache…" he trailed off because Angel's hand was gently tracing the outline of his cheek, Angel's fingers were cool and made his skin tingle and they were huge hands, rough hands, masculine hands, and they sent a frisson of excitement through Xander's veins that he couldn't easily explain.
"I'm sorry," Angel said again. His eyes were very dark and Xander couldn't guess at the emotion there.
"It's…fine," Xander said again, fighting the urge to lean into Angel's hand. Angel slowly drew his fingers away and Xander leaned back. He wasn't freaking out, strangely enough. He was just…there was Angel, and he knew that something was happening here, but he wasn't sure what. All he knew was that he wanted it, badly.
"Look, Xander…I really…I just can't…I've gotta go," Angel said after a moment, stepping back from him.
"Huh?" Xander said stupidly, as disappointment coursed through him. Of course, he thought to himself. What was I expecting? He and Buffy…god, I'm such a stupid idiot. "Oh, you know, it's fine – water over the bridge, uh, under the bridge and all that, I mean I'm sure you and Buffy—"
"No, Xander," Angel said strongly, and their eyes connected and Xander was suddenly frozen to the spot as Angel walked toward him, intent in his eyes, his hand on Xander's face again, electricity bursting through them, fire flickering as he was pulled closer until he could smell Angel's strangely attractive breath and Angel was just leaning over him, larger than life. "I have to leave because when I'm around you all I can think is how badly I want to kiss you."
Xander stood frozen, unsure of what he'd heard. "Kiss me?" he asked, after a long pause.
"Look…I'm older than you, and this can't…" Angel seemed caught, he was trembling himself. He couldn't seem to decide whether he wanted to pull Xander closer or shove him away and then Xander was stepping closer, until he could feel that magnetic pull of Angel on him, thrumming him closer, connecting them until their eyes couldn't look away from each other…
"How much older?" Xander asked quietly, breaking the tense silence.
"Xander—" Angel started helplessly, then he cursed viciously and pulled Xander into him and their lips connected and they were kissing and for some reason it felt so right, so good that all Xander could do was stand there.
It was hesitant at first, a brush of lips almost like testing. Angel's lips were cool and Xander felt his lips tingling as they exerting gentle pressure on Xander's mouth. The tingle built up in his lips, his spine, until his whole body was buzzing with pleasure as Angel's arms wrapped around him. He fit right in to Angel's body and it thrilled him with excitement as their lips met, again and again.
Xander tentatively put his arms around Angel's thick neck; he didn't know what he was doing at the same time that he knew exactly what he was doing. Angel was deepening the kiss, their lips meeting more firmly and Xander's mouth was opening. He gasped when Angel's thick, cool tongue was suddenly boldly sweeping his lips and Xander helplessly opened his mouth to grant it interest.
He'd never done this with anyone before; it felt amazing as Angel's tongue boldly and lazily explored his mouth, massaging his tongue and Xander felt himself moan deeply into Angel's mouth as they melded together, perfectly in sync. Angel's hands were rough as they held Xander closer and Xander was gasping for breath and hard in his pants and feeling a corresponding hardness in Angel's pants and he was caught up in a whirlwind of feeling and emotion, caught up in the most powerful feeling he'd ever known.
Angel's lips were rougher, his tongue plundering Xander's mouth, demanding submission and Xander was giving it to him and more, attacking Angel's mouth with his own, sucking Angel's tongue hard into his mouth and they were holding each other closer and closer and rougher and rougher, Angel seemed to like it as he growled his approval and everything was spinning in Xander's head—
He felt himself forcibly thrown away as Angel spun away from him, panting hard, trembling. Xander, dazed slumped against a wall, his swollen lips still tingling, his entire body buzzing. He'd never been kissed like that before but if this was what it felt like to kiss a guy then he…whoah, boy.
"What's wrong?" he asked giddily, because Angel still wasn't looking at him, was shaking, and Xander suddenly wondered if it had felt to Angel the way that it had felt to him. Had he done it wrong? Was Angel regretting what they'd done? Was he that bad? He took a shaky step toward him…
…when Angel turned around in a dizzying display of speed and Xander froze, shocked, horrified, hurt, betrayed as Angel's true, vicious, demonic vampire face rippled to the fore. He roared viciously at Xander before he launched himself out of the open window, vanishing into the night beyond.
Xander slumped slowly to the floor, his entire body shaking, and he stayed there for a very long time.
888
Angel's feet hit the street and he was running, running as fast as he could, the speed of his passage making him blurry, frightening away the rodents and insects from the back alleys of Sunnydale. He ran as fast as he could, his speed enhanced by his demon's power, a vampire on the hunt. He felt self-disgust so strong that if his human body could still vomit it already would have.
Vampire. Demon. No matter how hard he ran, no matter how much he wanted to, he'd never escape this. Xander! So innocent, so beautiful, so full of light! He'd never be worthy of such a thing; Angel was a creature, not worth touching, bad bad bad! He'd wanted so badly to bite Xander, so much that it was pain to kiss that lovely mouth, and Xander had erupted in passion and he hadn't been kissed like that in so long…
Angel slammed his way into the cemeteries, pulled out a stake. He hated himself in that moment with a violent loathing so powerful that the stake almost shattered in his hands. He pitied the poor fledgling vampire that he would kill that night. Its pain would be immense.
But no matter how hard he fought or how fast he ran he would never be able to erase that image of Xander, the look on his face as he saw what and who Angel was at last.
A/N: I'd just like to take the time here to say, I did include the song "Decode" on this because I'm a Paramore fan and I thought the song really fit this fic. I LOVE THE TWILIGHT BOOKS BUT I HATED HATED HATED the movie! The soundtrack was actually fairly good, so I got that, and I listened to both "Decode" and "I Caught Myself" by Paramore while writing this. Just to clear that up.
