Memories, Forgotten and Unwanted. - Part Two
A/N - ~~ **~~ indicates Angelus' flashbacks and dreams
Abandoning the body of his Childe, Angelus ploughed through the crowd of vampires to his 'bedroom'. It was no more than a heavy curtain separating it from the rest of the lair, but it sufficed. He stopped outside the curtain, he could see Drusilla's outline against it.
"Where's Daddy's little girl?"
She drew the curtain aside,
"You turned a holy man. Naughty Daddy."
She was smiling slightly, but the look in her eyes told him she wasn't entirely impressed. His lips curved upwards into a seductive smile and she raised her eyebrows, shaking her head in refusal. He sauntered past her and lay on his back on the bed. It was almost dawn and he could already feel Sleep numbing his mind. She sat down next to him, not yet affected by the approaching light, and placed a hand over his eyes. He smiled and closed them, feeling her soft, pale fingers rubbing small circles on his forehead. She was soothing him, it always managed to send him to sleep like this.
Satisfied that her Sire was alseep, Dru placed her head on his chest, and joined him in slumber.
~~**~~
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been 3 days since my last confession."
Angelus stood at the tall archway that lead to the confession boothe. Lazily, he leant against the stone walls and rubbed his hand down it, caressing the fine masonry work. For a second he wondered how long it had taken to construct this building. He didn't care. He heard the voices in the nearest confession booth exchange their farewells and he slowly pulled himself to his feet. A girl emerged from her side of the booth and gave him a fleeting glance as she left. Turning his head slightly, he watched out of the corner of his eye as she stopped at the doors and looked back at him. She was crying. Amused by this sight, he smiled and made his way to his own confession.
The priest sighed and lay back in his seat as what he hoped would be the last civilian came to him for forgiveness.
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been over a century since my last confession."
Father O'brien peered through the wooden partition. The man was young, dark eyes and a thoughtfull expression. He couldn't have been older than twenty five. Slightly thrown, he asked the boy what sins he had commited.
"Sins? How long have you got?"
"As long as it takes for you to lift the burden from your shoulders, son."
His tone was practically cheerful as he reeled off a long list of unconsciable crimes. Inside his part of the booth, Angelus cast his eyes to the ceiling and grinned while Father O'brien tried to 'console' him. He grew impatient.
The Father sat facing the partition, continuing his consolidation and hoping the youth would take heed of his words. His door swung open, and the church lights flooded the booth. They were quiet dim, but enough to sting his eyes and cause him to screw them shut.
"I'd forgotten just how boring church really was." Angelus seized the man by his robes and hauled him out of the booth, "No wonder I never went."
He stood the mortal on his feet and stepped back, watching with vague amusement as he began to recite something in latin.
"And He shall smite the Wicked and send them to a fiery death."
"Latin, y'gotta love it."
"They shall exist forever in torment and agony."
The vampire made a show of yawning and looking towards his wrist for a watch that wasn't there. He looked back at the priest,
"Finished?"
"He shall cleanse the pure an--"
Impatient, Angelus regained his grip on the holy man's clothes and lifted him off his feet,
"That was more of a statement than a question."
He flashed him his most flattering smile and it broadened as his forehead morphed into a series of pronounced ridges and his teeth enlongated. Running his tongue over his fangs, Angelus looked the man up and down.
"You wouldn't shed blood inside a church."
He pulled the man closer and smiled sinisterly,
"I was thinking more along the lines of drinking it, actually."
After snapping playfully at his ear, Angelus pushed Father O-brien's head to one side, his neck in point-blank range of his fangs. Ignoring the gasp of fear and the cries of pain, he slowly sank his fangs into the flesh and lost himself to the hunger as the blood ran freely into his all to eager mouth. He drained the priest of every drop of blood he owned, holding the body closer and almost crushing the ribs as if to squeeze more out of it. The blood was pure and untainted, almost as good as the maiden he'd started the evening with. The bloodlust still occupying his mind, he savagely tore at the flesh and licked the wound in a vain attempt to satisfy his hunger. There was nothing left.
His vampiric nature retreating to the depths of his mind, his human face returned and he released the body, letting it fall in a crumpled heap on one of the church benches.
Making his way back through the church, he stopped infront of the altar. Turning to face the life-size crucifix that hung above it, he wiped his chin clean and licked his hand,
"I'd love to stay for breakfast, but I promised the kids I'd be home before dawn." Turning to go out, he called over his shoulder, "By the way, the priest's a great guy."
Licking his lips contentedly, he sauntered towards the door. Then he stopped, a breeze made its way through the doors, wrapped itself around him and stirred the robes of the dead Father O'brien. It blew out the all candles except the one on the altar and continued its journey out of an open window. Angelus spun around on his heel, all senses heightened. He watched, fascinated as the flame of the one remaining candle appeared to dance, creating flickering patterns on the cloth that covered the marble top of the altar. Ignoring his returning hunger, he slowly moved towards it as if in a trance. It ceased its dance and disppeared, almost as though it had been blown out. He stared long and hard at the candle, trying to figure out what was happening. Then he looked up at the crucifix. The figure of Christ was about the same height as himself and the blood seemed almost real as it apparently dripped from the statue's wounds. Staring harder at the figure, Angelus froze. Its chest was moving. It was breathing. Blood from, what seemed to be fresh wounds, flowed down his arms and legs, forming a growing pool where it hit the floor.
Transfixed with a sudden terror, the vampire could do nothing but stare as Christ appeared to remove himself from the cross and descend towards him.
Feeling his limbs resume their functions, Angelus turned and ran, his mind suddenly filled with emotions he'd discarded the night he met Darla. The tumult of his mind was too great, he ran blind through the streets, barely conscious of the mere mortals that gazed after him as he fled, tears streaming down his face.
~~**~~
His brow furrowing slightly as he slept, Angelus snarled softly, beads of sweat decorating his forehead as he clenched he teeth so tightly it would have hurt if he was awake. Sitting up, Drusilla looked down at him. She left quietly, knowing better than to be in the same room as her Sire after he woke from a bad dream.
~*~TBC~*~
