Chapter Twenty-Five

Morrigan and Angel

Morrigan Lends a Hand

Angel acknowledged that he was probably rougher with Molly than he needed to be. Upon their arrival at the diner, Angel hurled her through the open door and shoved her towards the counter, ordering her to get some food. He barely noticed the look of hurt in her eyes, as if he'd just kicked her puppy.

All I saw was her. Morrigan, I mean. She'd been waiting for me. I don't know how I even knew it was her… But I knew. Same way I knew to go there in the first place, I guess. But it was like the whole world melted away. I forgot about everything… Molly, the bloodrunners, all of it. In that moment, as she walked towards me, it was like nothing else mattered. Just her.

The next thing Angel knew, they were locked in a tight embrace, devouring each other like it was the end of the world. It seemed as though they had always been together and existed only for the betterment and well-being of the other. Morrigan's heart beat against Angel's chest as if it were his own. Her breath flowed into him as if it might grant him new life. The sound of her pulse in his ears was like a great waterfall surrounding him, bathing him in warmth and peace. The multitude of emotions passing between them was overpowering, and Angel felt his features transform as his bloodlust reasserted itself. He broke off the kiss, afraid of adding one more death to his very long list of regrets, but Morrigan refused to let go. She was more concerned that Angel would blow his cover, than she was for her own welfare. She pulled his head down to her shoulder and turned their bodies so that his face was concealed from potential onlookers. He tried to tell her that he wasn't doing so well and didn't feel safe to be around, but she continued to hold him, stroking his hair and whispering soothingly like you would frightened puppy or small child.

When at last he brought himself under control, Morrigan finally released him. Introductions were made, and after making sure they wouldn't be overheard by the restaurant staff, Angel got to the meat of why they were there. Morrigan quickly realized that the two of them had already been working the same case. While Molly ate the food she had ordered, Angel and Morrigan exchanged the limited information each had on the booze-for-blood trade. Morrigan explained that while she understood the urgency of the situation, any action would have to be postponed for a later date. The Slayer would be out of commission for a few more days due to her Cruciamentum, assuming she survived, and Morrigan's top priority at the moment was Angel, who had clearly not been taking care of himself. Her mother would be pissed if she knew.

After Molly finished her meal, the threesome began the four-and-a-half block walk back to Angel's car. Molly walked between them, as they each kept a firm grasp on Molly's arm. She had been originally taken by The Outfit, so it was not out of the realm of possibility that she might be recognized, and that someone might try to reclaim her. If the three of them had to travel on foot, this was the safest way to do so, but Angel and Morrigan knew full well that Molly's safety was still not guaranteed as long as they were on the street. If they were attacked and forced to relinquish their hold on her, it would be quite easy for anyone, demon or human, to recapture her in the confusion. To prevent this from happening, Molly was instructed to keep her head down, her hair covering her face. They moved quickly, Molly allowing herself to be half dragged, half carried, as if she were drunk, and they soon reached the vehicle without incident. After loading Molly into the car, Morrigan immediately removed the license plates, chastising Angel for not having already thought to do it himself.

She thought we might've been followed. That Big Joe could've put the word out that Molly was missing, given a description of the car. She said I may as well have put a sign on the car saying, "HERE WE ARE!" I had to admit she was probably right. I should've thought of that. If it had happened today, I would have. I wasn't thinking too clearly back then. Especially that day.

Once the business of the license plates was taken care of, Morrigan hopped into the driver's seat, much to Angel's chagrin. As he voiced his dissent, Morrigan explained that it would be easier for her to drive to their destination than to try to direct him. He tried to argue with her, explaining once again that he needed something to focus on other than his bloodlust, but Morrigan responded with what Angel called "an epic eye roll", and scolded him for letting himself get to that point. She chided him for thinking he could literally drive away his troubles, and pointed out that he would eventually have to find another way to cope.

Again, Angel knew she was right, but as he reluctantly handed over the key, he couldn't help but wonder if this was the best time to test his resolve. He had never had much resolve to begin with, and it had been faltering by the minute. Angel sat rigidly in his seat as they pulled away from the curb, his fists clenched tightly as he struggled to maintain his composure. His nails dug into his palms, and as the scent of his own blood assaulted his nostrils, he thought for sure he wouldn't be able to last. It may have only been vampire blood, and his own at that, but it was still blood. It reminded him of what he'd been without for days, what he still needed and couldn't have. It was maddening. Had he been alone, he might have tried to stave off his hunger by licking his own hands (though it likely would have only compounded the problem), but his pride wouldn't let him be seen that way. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could, and tried to focus on his self-inflicted pain, rather than the demon screaming in his head to feed, kill and be sated.

Despite her ribbing, and her scolding Morrigan knew that Angel was downplaying his distress, even while it seemed he was doing just the opposite. She felt it the instant he set foot in the diner, before she even looked up and saw him. To be honest, she had felt it before he had arrived in town, but whereas it had been just a feeling before, it was now almost palpable. The weight of his suffering pressed in on her as if it were her own, and she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and ease his pain any way she could. For the moment, however, that would have to wait. She had to concentrate on her driving, and while having a witness might be prudent, she didn't think Molly was the ideal candidate. While she may have known, and thought she understood what Angel was, knowing and seeing were two quite different things. Morrigan thought it best to wait until they had dropped Molly off with Reginald on the Gold Coast.

Meanwhile, she would try to soothe the savage beast in other ways. She waited until she had turned onto a straightaway, requiring less focus or active driving, then turned to Angel and beckoned him to slide closer to her across the seat. He eyed her quizzically, but obeyed without question, taking her hand in his when she offered it. Annie had always given him her arm to feed from, so to his hunger-addled mind, it seemed perfectly logical to assume that Morrigan had the same intent. He started to dip his head for just that reason, but before his face even began to change, she squeezed his hand firmly and forced both their hands down into his lap, surprising him with her strength. A low growl erupted, unbidden, within him but Morrigan either didn't hear it or chose to ignore it. "Not now," she told him, then instructed him to close his eyes, and squeeze her hand. He did, and he was sure it was hard enough to crush her bones, but she didn't even flinch. Instead, she maneuvered her hand through his until he held her forearm within his vice-like grip. Her hand found its way to his thigh, giving him a gentle squeeze, her fingers softly kneading his flesh as they continued their journey upwards. Angel wondered briefly if it wasn't his own hand, still firmly gripping her just above the wrist, subconsciously guiding her against her will. That fear was quickly put to rest, however, as hand moved about his lap quite freely, applying light pressure in all the right places.

All cohesive thought left him when he felt her fingers grasp his zipper, lowering it quietly. On the one hand, he just wanted to sit back and enjoy the ride, so to speak. He could not remember that last time he had been touched that way, by a hand other than his own. He looked long at her, but her eyes never left the road, her hand acting of its own will as it slid into his pants, freeing him. His treacherous mind insisted on reminding him that this was Annie's daughter. He had watched her being born. He had cradled her in his arms and sang to her before The Council had taken her away. He had named her, for crying out loud! He should be putting a stop to this, not enjoying it, but he continued to watch her face, unchanged, as he swelled in her grip. Fighting for control, he tightened his grip on her arm, his nails digging into her flesh like talons. The scent of her blood tickled his nose, reigniting his bloodlust, and he lost all conscious thought, aware of nothing but the feel of her hand on him. His eyes slid over her body, taking her in, before finally letting himself get lost in the warmth of her touch, and the shifting pressure that would have made his heart race if it could have. His whole body went rigid, as her hand continued gliding over his flesh. He was fully aroused, aching from hunger and desire. Morrigan held loosely to the steering wheel with one hand, while the other moved smoothly and rhythmically, rising and falling from his lap in a distinct motion that brought him to pleasure well before he expected it. Clenching his jaw, he repressed the sounds trying to escape. Her hand contained him, and he began to relax, a gentle euphoria settling over him.

She deftly helped tuck him back into his pants, then wiped her hand on a handkerchief from the dashboard, tossing it to the floorboard, before returning her hand to the wheel. As he attempted to pull himself together, he found himself wondering where and how Morrigan and learned to manipulate him so expertly. He was certain he was the only one she had ever done this for. She was so young, he didn't think it was even remotely possible that she had had prior experience in such matters. He would know, wouldn't he? Some things you can just smell. It's like a sixth sense. Could she have read his mind? No, that was impossible. Before she had touched him, he had been thinking about the ripping of throats, nothing more. Before he could question it further, he was suddenly and crudely brought back down to earth by the sound of the car door slamming. Morrigan poked her head in through the window, a sly grin playing across her lips, and asked if he was going to be all right while she took Molly inside and briefed Reginald on the situation with the bloodrunners. Angel wasn't sure "all right" was the right term, but told her he would manage. She reached in and gave him an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder before escorting Molly inside Reginald Hill's lavish home.

While she was gone, Angel pondered what had just happened. Did anything happen? Had it all been a figment of his imagination, an hallucination brought on by malnourishment? That didn't seem right. He gone without blood for much longer before, and had never experienced anything like that. Although, that certainly made more sense than a virgin having the power to send him to the moon in under five minutes. Then again, after she had discovered her telekinesis, Annie had on occasion, done just that. She would have killed them both before she would ever touch him, but she had adored teasing him. He doubted that was the case here, but he was far from certain whether any of what he'd just experienced had actually happened, or if he had just embarrassed himself in a really bad way. He highly suspected it was the latter, and hoped for the sake of his dignity that it really was all in his head. When he caught sight of the hanky on the floor by his feet, that hope was dashed all to hell. He remembered Morrigan grabbing it off the dash, then tossing it across the car, but his brain was in such a fog, he couldn't remember the middle part. Had she used it herself and discarded it, or had she tossed it to him to use?

This train of thought was getting him nowhere except a one-way ticket to Crazy Town. He should just ask Morrigan when she came back, but what would he say? If it had all been in his head, wouldn't he just be humiliating himself worse than he possibly already had? That wouldn't do at all. Somehow, he had to find the truth for himself. He adjusted himself in his seat, and absentmindedly rubbed his hands along his thighs wondering how else he might get his answers. His right leg was damp, the familiar scent telling him it was blood. Specifically, it was her blood, likely from when he had clawed her arm. How had he missed that? He supposed it was just further evidence of his recent mental state. He brought his fingers to his lips for a quick taste, and caught a glimpse of his fingernails. Beneath them he found tiny bits of flesh and yet more blood. In any other circumstance, he might have found this alarming, but for the moment, he just felt relieved, as he took it as evidence that he probably hadn't just gone into a trance and masturbated in front of two young girls.

As he sat there contemplating the drying bits of Morrigan under his nails, the rest of her startled him for the second time that night, when she stuck her head in the passenger side window to ask how he was doing. How did she keep doing that? He may have had a soul, now, but he was still a vampire for Pete's sake—a predator. Humans weren't supposed to sneak up on him. He snuck up on them. He used to anyway. He chalked it up to being distracted, not in his right mind. He was malnourished, that was all. He vowed to do something about it as soon as he was able. For now, he assured Morrigan that he was fine, better in fact than he had felt all day. He knew he probably had her to thank for that, but was hesitant to tell her so. Despite the evidence, he still wasn't 100% sure he hadn't imagined it, and didn't want to risk further embarrassment by bringing it up. Pardon the expression.