That evening, she switched on the small lamp on the night table and observed as it cast Angel's face and back in a swath of yellow glow. She remembered his sword slicing her arm all those years ago and again, the pain radiated through her body. With his eyes closed, she was reminded once again of how beautiful he was, his long lashes casting shadows across defined cheekbones, masculine lips parted ever so slightly, the defined muscles of his arms and upper body, the faint tracery of veins under his parchment white skin, the black and white contrast of the tattoo against his upper back. One hand was inches away from his face, the other lying next to his side. He had moved at least once during the night, because not only was he lying on his stomach, but the covers were now off, revealing his nude form. She could see the slightest hint of his penis, and the sight of him looking so vulnerable made her clench with desire.
For the first time since he arrived, she was immersed in what he had been to her. She remembered starting to come to terms with what she had done to him. She was never going to see him again; she had sent him to hell to save the world. And then, a miracle occurred. She had found him in the woods, completely by accident. Her emotions had been so intense, a mixture of bewilderment, panic, hope and anger. Running to the mansion so fast that her leg muscles had spasmed, she prayed that he wouldn't regain consciousness before she returned. Mercifully, he was still out when she came back with the items she needed – a pair of handcuffs, an old wheelbarrow that had been abandoned in the mansion's courtyard, and a pair of pants.
He had been gloriously nude, an animal unaware and unashamed of its body. That Night (even all these years later she still thought of it in those terms) she had been so shy and nervous that he had undressed under the covers and she had let him take the lead in everything. But that evening, she had stared for a long time and she could still recall every inch of skin. Hand trembling, she had reached out to touch him, and was immediately shocked and gratified to feel him harden and lengthen underneath her tentative stroke. She moved her hand more firmly along the smooth skin until she had been jolted back to reality upon hearing his low moan.
She never told him what she had done and she never touched him again.
Once upon a time she had loved him more than anything; he had been her light, her hope, a reward for being chosen. Try as she might, she couldn't recall what that felt like. She still cared. She didn't wish for anything evil to befall him, but beyond that, she couldn't say.
She backed out of the room, and rapped hard on the door. She heard him shifting on the bed and went in after giving him two minutes.
Not only was he redressed, but he had the covers pulled back up, hiding him from her view. "Angel, I brought you something to eat." He didn't move, just continued the seeing through her that he had done yesterday. She opened the lid, desperately trying to breathe in as little as possible. "Come on, you need to drink this." When he still didn't respond, she flashed back to the days when she had had to help him drink. The blood hadn't disgusted her then. Now it looked thick and syrupy, darker maroon eddies swirling through the crimson. She bit her lip and held it up to his mouth. Most of it wound up in his mouth, but little rivulets escaped down his chin, landing on her blanket. Her hand involuntarily tightened on the container, but she kept feeding him until it was empty. Then she turned and walked out, closing the door.