Sometimes she let it slip. She would remember his hands. His strong legs.
The whisper of his voice on her skin. But that would be followed by
desolation. The years that passed. Too many to remember anymore. Too many
decades. Once in awhile his face would float back. Her dark hours. Moments
when she was ready to leave. To sink down, shut off safety, say good-bye to
no one. That's when she remembered. In the beat of her forlorn heart, she
knew he was still out there. Lost again in the shadow. Just waiting. There
was still bitterness in her veins. It would run cold when she realized he
put her in this position. Made her a child all over gain. She was in charge
of her life. The depravity that prowled around her, day in and night out.
~ ~ ~
He kept his eyes fixated on the cold woman. There was a deep malignancy in that woman's bones. He would wait all night, just to get the chance of this good kill. As the evil would rush out of the woman, spilling out along with her brutal blood. He had patience; he was over four centuries old. He moved with grace along the floor. Watched as the corrupted woman waltzed out the door. Her perfume of confidence was still pungent in the dank air. He stalked after her. In his own, soft beastly grace. He waited for months to prepare. For this kill. This night when her blood would flow without encumbrance. The predatory smile incased his face as he trailed her out the door. As he stood outside the throbbing club, he could smell the vital juices of his enemy. His monster emerged; his muscles began to spasm for the long awaited slaughter. He tracked the fragrance of blood, the sounds of a challenge ascended on his hearing. He snarled. This monster shall kill no other innocent. He dashed to the battle. Two shadow-clad figures were interlocked in combat. A small creature was bringing forth the life-blood of his intended victim. His own beast roared. This was his kill. His revenge. He ran deeper into the filmy alley. His night-seeing vision in overdrive. Within three feet, his nemesis fell. He stopped. The air was suddenly familiar. Over the stench of death, there was something forgotten.
"You want some too?" came the killer's voice. His dead breath caught in his throat.
"Gods.Buffy?"
~ ~ ~
His voice vibrated off the grimy alley walls. Her beating heart stopped. But it was starting again; pumped into life by acerbity.
"Yes?" she asked casually, as if talking to someone she might have met, years ago. He stepped back, fearful of what he might see.
"I'm not demon." She snapped. But he still moved away. She stalked after him. The street lamp poured foreign, artificial light over her features. She could see his demon, still raging over the loss of the kill. She smirked.
"Can never get over a good kill, can you? The way they beg, when the blood glistens just so.its pure pleasure, is it not?" he stepped further away, deeper into the alley, into the ever closing night. His head shook, thoughts and ideas forming that were forbidden. She took a deep, cleansing breath. A sneer washed across her glorious face. The demon's blood began to dry on her fingers. She brought them up to her mouth and nonchalantly licked it away.
"Feel it running through your veins? Did you want it, Angelus? The kill? Did you crave it? How long? Months? Weeks?" his eyes were narrowed. She was pushing him further into the alley. Circled him like her prey, her power, and her anger, making him quiver. His monster thundered to be free. To fight off this horrible power. To survive.
"It was my kill." He growled. She scoffed.
"Were you ready for it? Could you handle the consequences? You were never ready, Angelus. You never could be. Never pushed the limits. You were always too timid." She hissed. He towered above her. His animosity building with each word spoken. He let his beast out, inch by inch.
"What was it to you? Getting off on murders now, Slayer?" he snarled. He sucked his fangs.
"Acquired a new taste for blood, how does it make you feel, Slayer?" he advanced towards her. She smiled sourly. As if she pitied him.
"A little bit.how can I put this? Umm.immortal." She purred the last word. She was face to chest with him. His whole being yearned for violence, to rip the smug look off her face. But with the last word spoken, he froze. A fear like feeling crept deep inside his bones. Burrowed beneath his skin. Ate away at his insides.
"Wanna see how immortal Angelus? Not your type of immortality. But the kind where you can't die. It's really a lovely feeling. God-like." She spoke tartly. Her body burned. To say such brackish words, to her lover. After two hundred years, she had practice at hiding her fears.
He was falling apart inside. His soul screaming out to her, to touch her long ago body. To lick away her wounds. But his beast was raging. To kill this opponent. To make her his lover once again. She stood stock still, as did he. Each waited for a flicker of movement.
The malodor of the dead enemy stuck to the inside of her mouth. She was shaking on the inside. Her energy was building. Her instincts knew there was savagery to come.
"You think you could have taken her down, Angelus?" she leered, referring to the terminated foe. His hair stood on end every time she spoke his name. The urge to make her bleed was overwhelming, but so was the reflex to kiss her.
"Of course, Slayer. You think that little of me?" she smiled. A bitter, soul-wrenching smile.
"Where you ever ready to take on a God?" she asked sweetly. His brows knitted together, only for a split second. But she caught it.
"So you didn't know, lover? The woman that you sought was a fallen Greek God? I would have thought, with your intelligence and instincts, you would have figured that out." She ran her hands over the lapels of his duster. He stared down at her.
"I can almost touch your need for violence. I can smell it. Want to see if you can take me on? You think you can, Angelus?" he growled, deep in his chest. Letting the beast dawn from the depths of its confinements. He grabbed her arms in a crushing grasp.
"I don't think, I know." He seethed in her ear. She snapped her teeth at him. She shoved him away from her. He underestimated her strength, with that light shove, he stumbled back.
"Come on now, lover. Vampire versus Slayer, fight as old as earth. I have nothing to lose, but you on the other hand, have your life."
~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~
He kept his eyes fixated on the cold woman. There was a deep malignancy in that woman's bones. He would wait all night, just to get the chance of this good kill. As the evil would rush out of the woman, spilling out along with her brutal blood. He had patience; he was over four centuries old. He moved with grace along the floor. Watched as the corrupted woman waltzed out the door. Her perfume of confidence was still pungent in the dank air. He stalked after her. In his own, soft beastly grace. He waited for months to prepare. For this kill. This night when her blood would flow without encumbrance. The predatory smile incased his face as he trailed her out the door. As he stood outside the throbbing club, he could smell the vital juices of his enemy. His monster emerged; his muscles began to spasm for the long awaited slaughter. He tracked the fragrance of blood, the sounds of a challenge ascended on his hearing. He snarled. This monster shall kill no other innocent. He dashed to the battle. Two shadow-clad figures were interlocked in combat. A small creature was bringing forth the life-blood of his intended victim. His own beast roared. This was his kill. His revenge. He ran deeper into the filmy alley. His night-seeing vision in overdrive. Within three feet, his nemesis fell. He stopped. The air was suddenly familiar. Over the stench of death, there was something forgotten.
"You want some too?" came the killer's voice. His dead breath caught in his throat.
"Gods.Buffy?"
~ ~ ~
His voice vibrated off the grimy alley walls. Her beating heart stopped. But it was starting again; pumped into life by acerbity.
"Yes?" she asked casually, as if talking to someone she might have met, years ago. He stepped back, fearful of what he might see.
"I'm not demon." She snapped. But he still moved away. She stalked after him. The street lamp poured foreign, artificial light over her features. She could see his demon, still raging over the loss of the kill. She smirked.
"Can never get over a good kill, can you? The way they beg, when the blood glistens just so.its pure pleasure, is it not?" he stepped further away, deeper into the alley, into the ever closing night. His head shook, thoughts and ideas forming that were forbidden. She took a deep, cleansing breath. A sneer washed across her glorious face. The demon's blood began to dry on her fingers. She brought them up to her mouth and nonchalantly licked it away.
"Feel it running through your veins? Did you want it, Angelus? The kill? Did you crave it? How long? Months? Weeks?" his eyes were narrowed. She was pushing him further into the alley. Circled him like her prey, her power, and her anger, making him quiver. His monster thundered to be free. To fight off this horrible power. To survive.
"It was my kill." He growled. She scoffed.
"Were you ready for it? Could you handle the consequences? You were never ready, Angelus. You never could be. Never pushed the limits. You were always too timid." She hissed. He towered above her. His animosity building with each word spoken. He let his beast out, inch by inch.
"What was it to you? Getting off on murders now, Slayer?" he snarled. He sucked his fangs.
"Acquired a new taste for blood, how does it make you feel, Slayer?" he advanced towards her. She smiled sourly. As if she pitied him.
"A little bit.how can I put this? Umm.immortal." She purred the last word. She was face to chest with him. His whole being yearned for violence, to rip the smug look off her face. But with the last word spoken, he froze. A fear like feeling crept deep inside his bones. Burrowed beneath his skin. Ate away at his insides.
"Wanna see how immortal Angelus? Not your type of immortality. But the kind where you can't die. It's really a lovely feeling. God-like." She spoke tartly. Her body burned. To say such brackish words, to her lover. After two hundred years, she had practice at hiding her fears.
He was falling apart inside. His soul screaming out to her, to touch her long ago body. To lick away her wounds. But his beast was raging. To kill this opponent. To make her his lover once again. She stood stock still, as did he. Each waited for a flicker of movement.
The malodor of the dead enemy stuck to the inside of her mouth. She was shaking on the inside. Her energy was building. Her instincts knew there was savagery to come.
"You think you could have taken her down, Angelus?" she leered, referring to the terminated foe. His hair stood on end every time she spoke his name. The urge to make her bleed was overwhelming, but so was the reflex to kiss her.
"Of course, Slayer. You think that little of me?" she smiled. A bitter, soul-wrenching smile.
"Where you ever ready to take on a God?" she asked sweetly. His brows knitted together, only for a split second. But she caught it.
"So you didn't know, lover? The woman that you sought was a fallen Greek God? I would have thought, with your intelligence and instincts, you would have figured that out." She ran her hands over the lapels of his duster. He stared down at her.
"I can almost touch your need for violence. I can smell it. Want to see if you can take me on? You think you can, Angelus?" he growled, deep in his chest. Letting the beast dawn from the depths of its confinements. He grabbed her arms in a crushing grasp.
"I don't think, I know." He seethed in her ear. She snapped her teeth at him. She shoved him away from her. He underestimated her strength, with that light shove, he stumbled back.
"Come on now, lover. Vampire versus Slayer, fight as old as earth. I have nothing to lose, but you on the other hand, have your life."
~ ~ ~