Never an Angel, a buffy: the vampire slayer fanfic

May 1, 2009

Never an Angel

He'd been thrown from the house. But who cared? He didn't. Not a bit. He wasn't so much 'thrown' as he 'walked' out. The decision to leave was as much his as his father's. If he wanted to drink, fight, and have women, he would. No one could stop him.

Liam drank another pint of beer before punching the nearest man across the face. Tonight would be a great one.

Later, stumbling into the street, he saw a beautiful woman. She was standing alone and seemed to beckon him. He went to her, smiling dumbly. He offered to escort her home, though it was clear he was looking for something more. Something sexual. And she seemed willing to give it to him. She asked if he wanted to be introduced to her world, and he said he did.

After that, he knew no more.

Power. It surged through his veins like fire. It was amazing. Something so different from anything he had ever experienced in life. It drove him up, through the coffin's wood and the soft earth, to the surface. The cold Irish night met him, and he smiled to his Sire.

Then the hunger came. It was strong, and the man scolding them stood no chance. He was encouraged to visit his family then. Smirking, he went happily. Liam's sister let him in, murmuring 'You've returned? Returned to me, an angel?' He smiled, nodded, and hugged her, before sinking his fangs deep into her neck, drinking her dry.

The rest of the family was not as easily caught, but running could do them no good. They all fell to him, victims of the man they had thought incapable and a failure. Who had failed now? They were dead and he would live forever.

He left that place with a new name, Angelus, a small token of the girl.

Drusilla was the most fun he had had in years. Chasing her, raping her mind, killing her family, destroying everything she held dear. She went quite mad before the end.

At the time, it was worth it, but after turning her, he regretted the decision. She was difficult to teach and impossible to predict. She went about, muttering lullabies under her breath, dancing in circles, talking to her dolls, and claiming the stars told her things to come.

But he loved her. Cared for her as a Sire would. She was his first Childe; he adored her, and would above all others. He would care for her more than any other would and more than he would for any other, second only to his Sire. That was the relationship between Sire and Childe.

When Drusilla brought the boy home, Angelus was angry. She shouldn't have been out alone; it was dangerous, even for a vampire. Mortals did know how to kill them. Despite Drusilla being wicked and able to out-maneuver many, he worried about her. What if she had made a mistake? Had given away their home or names? What if she had been killed?

Angelus would have hunted down every human in the town. He would have killed them all, each more creatively than the last. Still, didn't she think about these things? And more over, why had she turned the boy? She was still young; she shouldn't have done so.

Darla, his Sire, was delighted when she saw him. And he began to grow on Angelus. William was his Grand-Childe. His first one. They became a family. Drusilla called Darla 'Mummy' and Angelus 'Daddy' and William, who changed his name to Spike, was her darling 'Baby' for a long time. They had pets from time to time; humans kept for entertainment and sex. Drusilla called these 'Kitten's and played with them as such.

It was his birthday. Or deathday. His turningday; that was most accurate. No matter. Darla was leading him about in a blindfold. She was enjoying herself, and he so loved to see her happy that he wasn't overly bothered by the temporary blindness. He knew there was a present in store for his good behavior.

He wasn't disappointed. Darla had caught him a gypsy girl. Their princess. She was afraid, Angelus knew. He could smell it on her. She thought he was going to rape her. It was a tempting thought, for she was quite the sight, but he had Darla and Drusilla, and even Spike for occasion, and the girl wasn't needed for that. Though he did particularly enjoy the thrill of release as the kitten of the month screamed and cried. And begged.

He sank his fangs into her thigh and she cried out in horror. Darla stood, watching over her Childe.

Everything had been normal. Better than normal, it had been wonderful. The family was settled nicely into the community, feeding well. No one suspected them, and his hunt would be successful in a few minutes.

Suddenly, Angelus had felt a pain in his chest. Fear swept through him. But nothing was there; he wasn't dying. He left his prey, running into the woods to hide and ride out the terror. This was something he hadn't felt since he was mortal. He didn't like it.

Falling into a clearing, he felt a sudden shift in consciousness.

He was confused and frightened. Where was he? What was the last he remembered? Drinking, fighting, pretty girl. How had he gotten here? He was in a forest that he didn't recognize. Why would he? There were no trees like this at home. What was going on?

A man came to him and answered his questions. Memories surged back; a hundred years of killing, maiming, raping, and devouring innocents came to him. He began to shake, feeling the hunger, the bloodlust, within him. He denied it, begged for it not to be true. The man, the gypsy girl's father, laughed at him.

'And so you shall suffer.'

He ran towards home then, knowing nothing but to turn to the arms of his Sire.

Darla found him, realized what had happened, and threw him out. She threatened to kill him. It hurt him deeply. His soul hated that he wanted, no needed, her comfort, but his demon was lost. How could he go on without the family? How would Spike and Drusilla ever forgive him for leaving if he couldn't tell them why?

His Childe wouldn't understand. She was damaged, and she would have nowhere to turn but to her own Childe. Spike would hate him. He would put a price on his head. Hunt him eventually.

For now, he could only run.

He wandered, hungry and alone, traveling as far as the New World, the States. When he tried to feed, he found himself unable. He couldn't kill. Not to eat, and not likely for any reason. His soul was repulsed by it. All he could do was hide from society. He deserved this torment, this punishment. To be haunted by every person he killed. To starve himself.

He was calling himself Angel now. The demon was Angelus and he couldn't go back to Liam. Liam had been dead for a hundred years, since Darla turned him. He was someone else now, with the horrors of the demon on his shoulders.

He resorted to rats. Hunting down rats and other rodents for food. It kept him alive, but the taste was terrible. Whenever he saw a human, Angelus would growl and demand to be fed properly. But Angel denied him every time.

He was living as the homeless in a large city. He would stumble upon dead and dying people often. Angelus would insist that this was okay to eat. 'It's already dead, or it will be shortly.' They both knew this was low for Angelus to aim, ill and dead being far below healthy and young, but after a hundred years of rodents, he would settle for anything human.

Still, Angel refused. He was afraid what the taste of human blood would do to his control. He stayed away from the living at all costs, denying himself the temptation the demon was dying for him to give in to.

The day he saw her, he knew he had to change. He had given up human contact for fear of himself, but if this girl, indeed hundreds before and after her as well, was to fight vampires and other evils to protect humanity from monsters like him, he wanted to help. To protect her. Even from the shadows. So he did.

He continued ignoring Angelus's demands to eat. Demands that had turned into begging over the years. Begging that became taunts as he fell for the girl. The night she found out what he was, he had almost given in. He had kissed her, and it was amazing. The first taste of anything human in over one-hundred years, and Angelus was roaring.

He tried to get away. He tried to tell her they couldn't do this. She didn't want him to go, and Angelus forced the face out, wanting to sink his fangs into her neck. She screamed, and Angel dove out the window.

In his hideout, he beat himself physically and mentally. He raged at Angelus, knowing that they were in danger now. If he tried to see her or any of her friends, they would sooner stake him than let him finish a sentence. Not that they would be able to if he didn't want them to, but it was the fact that all miniscule trust had evaporated because of one moment. One kiss had led to his ruin.

He would have to leave if he couldn't convince her of his loyalty.

Freedom. Sweet, glorious freedom. Angelus was ecstatic. The idiot had done it. Royally screwed up. He had done something and lost control. Lost the soul altogether. Angelus didn't know why, but he didn't care either. He just knew he was in charge. And the Slayer was going to pay.

First things first, though. Angelus went off in search of a meal.

Losing his access to their homes was a setback. Minor, but still. Angelus hated that. Though, getting his Drusilla back was worth more than invites into a couple of homes. He had other ways to get to them.

Killing the redhead's fish was genius, in his opinion. She probably cried. Angelus smiled at the thought of it. Spike seemed less amused by his efforts, but he was still angry about the abandonment of himself and Dru. No matter, he would win him over. Besides, the back and forth banter was fun.

Jenny's death, though, had taken the cake. It was easy enough and seeing the Slayer break into tears was delicious. Walking home, he couldn't wait to brag to his Childe and Grand-Childe.

He was scared again. What was he doing here? Buffy. What were they doing there? He tried to ask, but she silenced him with a kiss. Something was wrong. He could feel Angelus ranting and raging. Something about being so close to something. What had happened?

Buffy kissed him once more, and then a pain erupted through his body. She had stuck him with a sword. Why? He looked at her and found tears. He reached to brush them away, memories just starting to trickle back. He was about to whisper an apology for everything and anything, not fully recalling it yet, when he was pulled backwards. Sucked down.

He landed in a Hellish demon-dimension as the brunt of the memories came to him.

Once more, he was terrified and confused. Was he back? Was he really? Even Angelus was no longer stable, so what chance did Angel have to be?

He ran, naked and frightened. He stuck to the moonlight, rather than the sun, knowing it would be his death otherwise. He didn't feed. Didn't remember how. Angelus was afraid to. Hell had warped him, and he didn't know how badly because he didn't know what normal was anymore.

She healed him. She brought him back to reality, to normality. Back to his shadow of humanity. He loved her, but he had new terror of that emotion. It could turn its back on him, unleash the demon, and destroy those he felt it for. But she didn't care; she wanted his love. Wanted to love him. She knew he loved her.

She tried not to want it, for everyone's safety, but he was fighting it more than she was. And that hurt and excited him. That she wanted him so badly she would risk everything. But he knew it was dangerous and wrong.

He managed to regain the trust of the group eventually, but by the end of the year, he had to go. He couldn't stay and hold her down. He couldn't risk them because he loved them. All of them. And he was afraid. He left, and even Angelus hated the decision. Though for different reasons, it was still something neither wanted to do.

It was a rare thing to agree with the demon, but he knew it was only because Angelus wanted to kill Buffy. But Hell had taken a toll on them both. Angelus was off more than usual, and Angel still wouldn't call himself fully recovered, but they were likely as good as they would get.

With that, they went to Los Angeles to start anew.