The agonizing moments continued on. Each waiting, neither wanting this to
come to death. Each inside wishing it would. All these years passed. Years
to learn to forget, to take on other lovers. To become hardened to the
familiar voice of an old lover.
"How did you become this way, Slayer? Make a final deal with the devil?" he thought he heard her growl.
"Which way, Angelus? Like you? Or finally amount to the full Slayer I always was destined to become?" I was destined to be with you, she thought bitterly.
"Who made you?" her eyes were set ablaze. Within a moment he was thrown across the alleyway, into the waiting brick wall. His face connected with its solidiness, breaking bones.
"I'm not demon!" She snarled at his rumpled body. He jumped at her. A right cross was easily blocked, but her kick to his midsection wasn't. He knocked out her feet, or at least tried to. She brought blood to his nose, he fought, trying against whatever odds to land something . Fists were frantic to make contact. Many of hers finding some. The Slayer power and two hundred years of experience were showing. But he held. Blocking many shots, luckily landing a few. He was waiting. Waiting for her breath to hitch, to see the first drop of sweat. To see her tiring and for him to get his final chance.
But it never came. Not once did she stop to breathe, nor to wipe the sweat from her brow. His chances were beginning to lessen. But his endurance began to set in.
He was almost her match. Who was she kidding. She was holding out on him. Biting back half of her strength. Not quite good enough. She was waiting. To see if he would try for his final chance. To see if there would need be for her to make it his last chance. She caught his foot in mid-air twisting it into unused positions. He used it to his advantage. His other leg to kick out her knee. His hands already bracing his solid body. With all the hits, they both landed tangled together. His lips mere inches from hers. He leaned in, his habit of breathing hot on her face.
"No! Don't." Buffy pushed him away from her. Feelings flushed her face, making it harder to push him away. But she did. Throwing him farther away. She stood and faced away from him. "Buffy.." he reached for her arm. She jerked it from his grasp.
"No. Just don't. Leave. Or I will."
"Buffy, what's going on?" she turned and glared at him.
"Don't call me that!" she cried.
"What? Buffy." she slapped him across his bruised face. He almost choked at the blood that filled his mouth.
"I'm not Buffy. Buffy died a long time ago. I can't.I just can't hear that name. Okay?" he absently nodded.
"What do you want me to call you?"
"Dawn." She said quietly.
"Oh, okay. Well, what are you doing here?"
"Immortal. I'm two hundred and twenty six." She said with a soft laugh.
"How did this happen?" Angel asked. She rolled her eyes. Nothing had changed. Her eyes, still green, but less spark. Body still lethal. Soul almost gone.
"You make it sound like a disease! It just happened. Too close to death, yet again, and whoever slaps me in the face with this."
"What are you doing? Why were you hunting her?" her nostrils flared and her lips curled.
"Name's Glory. Centuries ago she slaughtered my family. Turned the whole world upside down. I was dying. Pretty close to it. Then here comes my great gift, and I become the hunter." She looked down to the splitting asphalt. He stared at her. Glory. He knew her. Fought her. Hunted her.
"Explain to me how this happened." She snickered.
"In full detail?" he nodded. Her eyes narrowed.
"You got time?"
"Seems I got too much."
~ ~ ~
"How did you become this way, Slayer? Make a final deal with the devil?" he thought he heard her growl.
"Which way, Angelus? Like you? Or finally amount to the full Slayer I always was destined to become?" I was destined to be with you, she thought bitterly.
"Who made you?" her eyes were set ablaze. Within a moment he was thrown across the alleyway, into the waiting brick wall. His face connected with its solidiness, breaking bones.
"I'm not demon!" She snarled at his rumpled body. He jumped at her. A right cross was easily blocked, but her kick to his midsection wasn't. He knocked out her feet, or at least tried to. She brought blood to his nose, he fought, trying against whatever odds to land something . Fists were frantic to make contact. Many of hers finding some. The Slayer power and two hundred years of experience were showing. But he held. Blocking many shots, luckily landing a few. He was waiting. Waiting for her breath to hitch, to see the first drop of sweat. To see her tiring and for him to get his final chance.
But it never came. Not once did she stop to breathe, nor to wipe the sweat from her brow. His chances were beginning to lessen. But his endurance began to set in.
He was almost her match. Who was she kidding. She was holding out on him. Biting back half of her strength. Not quite good enough. She was waiting. To see if he would try for his final chance. To see if there would need be for her to make it his last chance. She caught his foot in mid-air twisting it into unused positions. He used it to his advantage. His other leg to kick out her knee. His hands already bracing his solid body. With all the hits, they both landed tangled together. His lips mere inches from hers. He leaned in, his habit of breathing hot on her face.
"No! Don't." Buffy pushed him away from her. Feelings flushed her face, making it harder to push him away. But she did. Throwing him farther away. She stood and faced away from him. "Buffy.." he reached for her arm. She jerked it from his grasp.
"No. Just don't. Leave. Or I will."
"Buffy, what's going on?" she turned and glared at him.
"Don't call me that!" she cried.
"What? Buffy." she slapped him across his bruised face. He almost choked at the blood that filled his mouth.
"I'm not Buffy. Buffy died a long time ago. I can't.I just can't hear that name. Okay?" he absently nodded.
"What do you want me to call you?"
"Dawn." She said quietly.
"Oh, okay. Well, what are you doing here?"
"Immortal. I'm two hundred and twenty six." She said with a soft laugh.
"How did this happen?" Angel asked. She rolled her eyes. Nothing had changed. Her eyes, still green, but less spark. Body still lethal. Soul almost gone.
"You make it sound like a disease! It just happened. Too close to death, yet again, and whoever slaps me in the face with this."
"What are you doing? Why were you hunting her?" her nostrils flared and her lips curled.
"Name's Glory. Centuries ago she slaughtered my family. Turned the whole world upside down. I was dying. Pretty close to it. Then here comes my great gift, and I become the hunter." She looked down to the splitting asphalt. He stared at her. Glory. He knew her. Fought her. Hunted her.
"Explain to me how this happened." She snickered.
"In full detail?" he nodded. Her eyes narrowed.
"You got time?"
"Seems I got too much."
~ ~ ~
