Body

Angel: Night Festival

The two friends walked along the crowded street. The shorter, and prettier, of the two held the camera around her neck to her eye, randomly capturing pictures of classmates out during this the Night of Festival. The taller, and plainer, had given it to her. They walked on instead of stopping to talk to their friends for they had a mission. They were going to meet Angel tonight, he had a surprise for them.

Christina was the shorter, prettier -- though neither were exactly pretty-- friend, more outgoing and reckless, though not so much so, with cinnamon brown skin. Rachel was taller, somewhat heftier -- that didn't stop her from being a great runner for the track team -- a bit more cautious, but loyal to Christi, for they made a good team, with her fair skin and dirty blonde hair.

Neither senior was exactly dressed for Festival, though not many other seniors were. By this time in High School dress up was at a minimum, so Christi wore her basic blue jeans, a long sleeved green and black narrow ribbed T-shirt. For "dress up," around her waist a long scarf of mottled colors, consisting mostly of blue, green, yellow and gray splotches as a skirt, and of course her sneakers. Rache declined from wearing anything more than what she normally wore -- a long sleeved coral T-shirt and overalls. After all, they were going to see Angel, which meant they should be as comfortable as possible. Christi agreed and declined from wearing her black boots, rubber soled though they were.

They'd met Angel a few nights ago.

They were hanging around the school area with their other out-crowd friends watching the boarders do tricks off the steps of the courtyard across the street. Unfortunately, it seemed that even the outers had a hierarchy. Actually it was just the boarders, some of them were more popular than others, depending on how good they were. Justina and her crew were great, Christi and Rache and their friends weren't. Justina's crew was bugging Christi's when Angel came along. Of course Justina flirted with him, he was obviously older, maybe even college, but he only had time for the two friends. It wasn't as if he was mean to Justina, he was actually very nice, but it was obvious who held his attention. And, as Rachel pointed out, he was so sweet they were delighted to be noticed.

So when he asked if they'd like to meet next week around this time they agreed. Angel put his arms around them, gave them each a chaste kiss on the cheek and told them they should meet on the Night of Festival, away from the crowds to hang out by themselves. They could then go back and play the games when it wasn't so bustling.

They laughed, hadn't he already shown them more fun than they'd had in months? Yes, they would be there.

Taking pictures of notable seniors and underclassmen on the way -- sometimes just annoying classmates to mock in photo later -- the two friends made their way through the thickest part of the crowd till the lights and voices faded behind them. Even Jordan of the bright red hair was little more than a distant flash of color every now and then as Rache looked behind them. "He should pop up any moment," Christi reassured her.

They kept walking and, running out of subjects, Christi let her new camera hang down her neck. Suddenly someone tackled them from off to the side. The girls gave a frightened shriek as they landed on it.

"Hello ladies," it said with a smile.

The girls laughed. Angel had surprised them again, much as he had their first meeting. Dressed in black leather pants and jacket with only a crimson red shirt for color, Rachel thought he looked a little sinister, but that was part of what she liked about him. Christi lightly punched him as she asked, "Where did you come from? And what took so long, I thought we'd be walking forever."

"Just wanted to make sure no one would interrupt our fun," he replied merrily, putting the girls at ease. "So, are you two ready?"

They nodded, still sitting/lying atop him, wild grins on their faces. They knew they were going to play something tonight, then perhaps go back to the Festival and play the games there and hang out with friends. It promised to be a great night.

"All right then. I'm giving you 86 longitude to run, hut hut hut!" he barked as if giving orders to his football team.

There was something about running that could be infinitely fun. The combination of physical exertion and adrenaline rush made it a heady flight. Even being caught could be exhilarating, so long as you wanted to be.

The girls scrambled off him and started running along the mostly deserted street. Christi was in the lead, but she could see Rache's shadow right behind the one of her flowing "skirt." She ducked into a nearby park, about three blocks from where they'd left Angel, parts of whose gates were open in both the front, where they entered, and the back, through which they tried to escape. Christi banged into the secondary gate first, then heard the metallic crash of her friend moments after. "You shouldn't follow me everywhere," she cried laughingly, breathlessly as she righted herself and heard Rache's own breathless laugh in return. Pushing off the gate she zipped out, certain Angel hadn't made it to the little park yet. Even if he had, she was sure they could zip right by him through the farther of the two open portions of the gate. After all, weren't those Rachel's footsteps somewhere behind hers?

Sure enough Angel was not in sight as Christi ran out onto the pavement. Soon she spied another park in a similar condition. This one was certain to be a great place to lose him. The rear wasn't fenced at all and led to the nearby "forest" area. It wasn't very large, but could be used to lose him for a little while.

Instead of turning to see if Angel was behind her, Christi simply glanced at the wall where their shadows could easily be seen. He was right behind her! But the park was so close, she was positive she'd make it, she thought with a reckless smile. This was turning out to be a lot of fun.

Christi kept an eye on the shadows as she raced for the entrance. As she watched, Angel's shadow reach for hers, seemingly in slow motion. Then felt his right arm go around her neck, effectively bringing her down for a hard landing against his chest.

At first Christi was frightened, but calmly told herself that it was a natural reaction, what with so much adrenaline pumping through her body right now, and to relax -- this was Angel after all. So she laughed off the remaining adrenaline rush as Angel's arm moved away from her neck and across her chest, securing her to him. Christi giggled a bit nervously, but wasn't worried as the heat of his lips were felt against her neck. Suddenly, his teeth grazed the flesh of her collar bone, lightly brushing her skin, sending shivers through her body and goosebumps along her skin. As he did so, slowly he rocked her from side to side, rhythmically in an enthralling motion. Christi still felt no fear, despite their being alone on a deserted street, blocks away from anyone, with no one in the neighborhood in sight. Actually she'd forgotten Rachel completely. Her full concentration was on the feel of Angel's teeth sending cool shivers through her and the entrancing way he rocked her.

As she went slowly limp in his arms, Angel released the tight grip he held on the girl and shifted position behind her. Instead of kneeling, now his legs were around hers as he gathered her against him. He no longer moved, but she kept gently swaying as if mesmerized by something in front of her, or some hypnotic suggestion in her mind. Laying back on the concrete on raised elbows with the girl trapped by his legs, Angel considered drinking from her neck. But no, he had already made it very sensitive and instead of feeling pain she was more likely to have some weird sense of pleasure. Actually, the idea had merit... No, no, that's not what he wanted. But if not, why had he seduced her and her friend a few nights ago? Because they would be a great diversion, and they had been. The other's blood still warmed him despite the slight chill, he knew.

As this one swayed he sat up, reached over her -- he was head and shoulders above her -- and brought the index finger of her right hand to his mouth. He surreptitiously wiped what was left of the other girl's blood from his mouth. (What was her name? Ah, it didn't matter, he had this one. The other had been to tame his hunger while playing with this one, Christina. Not the other girl hadn't been fun, actually he would have liked playing with the other one too, if not for her.) Angel bit her finger, not hard enough to crush it, but certainly to get the blood flowing. Ah, youth, how he enjoyed it so.

Christi looked at her bleeding finger after Angel released it. She could only conjure a dreamy smile before he reached for her hand again.

This would prove to be a wonderful night, Angel thought . . .

2

Angel jerked upright in his bed. His breathing was labored and his body was covered in a fine of sheen of sweat. After glancing over his shoulder--no he hadn't awakened her -- he swung his legs off the bed. A navy satin robe lay on the floor where he must have dropped it after showering last night. Angel picked it up and shrugged into it as he headed for the kitchen.

After putting a kettle of water on to boil for tea, Angel sat at the small table. The memory of his dream was vivid, partly because it was a memory. But in the dream it was distorted.

That wasn't what happened that Festival night. And although Angel awoke before the dream could complete itself, he knew that what else it had to show was worse. Actually, he got the feeling that it was very sinister indeed.

Ugh, look at myself, he thought, I sound like Giles.

Angel hadn't thought of Giles or the rest of the Sunnydale gang in a long time. He supposed Giles would be about ninety five by now, maybe older. And Buffy...Buffy would be in her sixties. How long since he'd seen them all? He'd attended Willow and Oz's wedding. That had been interesting. Xander still hadn't forgiven him for being the object of Buffy's affection despite being a vampire. He'd even gone to Buffy and Riley's wedding, but that had been years ago. Their daughter had been a Slayer.

It had been over fifty years since Buffy'd surprised him by coming to the office in Los Angeles after discovering Angel had been spying on her at school. The memory of a night that never was sent a fever, then a haunting chill through his body. He hadn't seen them all in almost twenty years. Was Rupert even alive?

But the dream still nagged at him. Angel poured himself a cup of chamomile tea, maybe that'd help him sleep.

Warm hands slid over the cool satin covering his shoulders and back. Angel whirled around, only to see the small face of his wife looking up at him. He smiled at her. "Did I wake you," he asked in a whisper.

She smiled back. "Lack of body heat woke me," she whispered back. "Couldn't sleep, my love?" she asked as she slid her hands inside his robe, around his stomach.

"Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep," he kissed her forehead, "I'll be right there."

"Promise?"

"Of course." Angel watched her glide across the floorboards back to their bedroom. He always marveled at the way she went around the apartment without a robe on -- it wasn't as if she didn't own one -- in just a T-shirt and shorts. To him it was always a little chilly.

Not that he minded.

Still his mind drifted off to that dream. That wasn't how it had happened, but it was. Maybe Angel simply couldn't let go of his past. A lot has changed in the past fifty plus years, he thought, sitting at the table, drinking the tea. He had changed, but that sounded like a cliché to even his ears.

Angel finished his drink, hoping it would in fact help him as it seemed to do his wife. She would be tossing and turning without him, he knew. He made her feel safe, she said .

As he feared, the bedcovers were tangled about her athletic frame. The scarlet colored velvet bedspread accented her cinnamon brown skin. She lay on her stomach -- unusual position for her, he thought -- one leg exposed, her left hand on his side of the bed.

Angel slipped off his robe and sat on the edge of the bed. He took his wife's hand in his own. Her fingertips were cool, but they often were. She murmured and turned towards him when he kissed them, still asleep. "You must be really exhausted, baby," he whispered to her. There was no response. She must be worn out, his wife hated being called "baby," even by him.

He chuckled as he slid into bed, pulling her to him. "Good-night, Christina."

3

"So what was that about last night," Christina asked that morning. She was making their morning coffee/tea, Angel was doing breakfast.

"What do you mean?"

She snorted. "You know exactly what I mean, doll cakes. I may have been the walking dead last night, but I know when something's bothering you."

"It's what I told you," he said turning around from the eggs, "it was just a bad dream."

"So tell me about it."

"It's not important." He was evading the subject and they both knew it.

Christina didn't bother to say anything else, she stared at his back. She even managed to not tap her foot, but Angel could hear it in his mind. He knew she was staring at him, waiting for an answer. He also knew that she would stand there staring at him, giving him the silent treatment during breakfast. It wouldn't be the first time. Usually they didn't last long. Not that some hadn't lasted for days.

Not this time. The dream pressed on Angel too heavily, despite wanting to keep it from her.

He fixed their plates and sat. Christi poured his coffee, set her mug of tea next to her plate and sat facing him. She was waiting. "All right," he started, "there is more." Angel told her about the dream including the memory distorting end.

"Why didn't you want to tell me?"

"I don't know. Wanted to protect you, I guess," he said nonchalantly as he sipped his lukewarm coffee and made a face.

"I think you wanted to keep me from remembering what you were," she said around her toast.

Angel looked away.

"That's it, isn't it?" She took his hand, "Angel, I know you were a vampire. I know all the things you did as a vampire, the good, the bad..., the evil. I was there when The Powers That Be gave you back your humanity, remember?"

"I know --"

"And I remember what happened that Night of Festival. You didn't seduce me like that."

"Oh, and how did I seduce you," he couldn't resist teasing.

She laughed, breaking some of the tension. "May I continue," she asked dramatically. He nodded. "Anyway, you did chase me and Rache. That part's right. Rachel and I ran into that park that was cut off from the back. She told me later that you stopped her before she could follow me and asked if we could be alone. She agreed and went back to Festival." He nodded again. "Then you followed me with your preternatural speed just before I made it to the next park. You didn't 'capture' me, you stopped me from falling when I tripped on a crack in the sidewalk."

Angel picked up the narrative, "And from there we walked through the park to the wooded area. We talked for an hour or more about everything." He sounded almost nostalgic.

"And I was talking about the stars. I was surprised that you could see them so close to town. And then I was really surprised--"

"When I kissed you."

Christina smiled, "When you kissed me." She stood up, still holding his hand, and walked over to his side of the table. "Was that so bad?"

"No." He stood and asked, "Is this," and kissed her.

"No," she said when they pulled apart.

Their breakfast was forgotten.

4

Angel reached for Christina's hand again. Perhaps the meaty part of her palm this time? He'd quite enjoyed drinking from her finger, but the rest of her called to him.

Angel picked up his swaying beauty and strode with her into the park and the wood beyond. They were far from the noise and the prying eyes with just enough room to play some more, but no place for his new toy to get lost. Maybe he would make her run some more.

The Swaying Beauty, as Angel was beginning to call her, was humming to herself. So like Dru, he thought. Some minds were just easier to thrall than others. Some were more willing. As temporary diversions went, she was almost as fun as torturing the Slayer, but he'd killed Buffy years ago. Now that had been fun. Angel grinned to himself, picking up the tenor note in his new toy's song. They finished the impromptu duet just as he laid her underneath a tree.

"Wake up my pretty," he snapped his fingers next to her ear. "Time to wakey, wakey." She wouldn't let go of her half glazed expression. "Christina," he slapped her once, hard, "get up!"

She yipped, blinked twice and started breathing normally. "What, what happened?" Christi finally had the sense to be at least worried.

"Nothing. Yet." Angel brought his face down to hers, their noses almost brushing, "Now," he started, soto voce, "I want you to wait right here, right underneath this tree." Her eyes widened. Good, she was beginning to fear him. "Do you understand me?"

Christina nodded mutely.

"Excellent." He ran a finger down her button nose, "Be right back."

Angel hadn't gone twenty yards when he heard his new toy trying to escape. Intercepting her was easy. He let her see his true face, his daemon self. Christi backed away quickly, but not fast enough. He pulled her against his chest knowing what she beheld. "I said stay put," Angel growled, enunciating slowly. "Now I don't have to secure you to one of these lovely trees do I?" Paralyzed by fear, she didn't answer. He tilted her chin to look in his gold inhuman eyes. "Do I," he asked again.

Christi shook her head fervently.

"Excellent. Now be a good girl and sit!" He roughly pushed her down against a tree. "That's my darling. And I won't have to come looking for you, will I?"

She shook her head.

"I hope not," Angel said almost jovially. This seemed to frighten her as much as his appearance did. On impulse, he bent down and quickly kissed her on the lips. The shock on her face was worth the attempted escape, Angel thought as he whistled the tune Christina had been humming six minutes ago.

5

Angel's eyes opened. On his lips was the tune from the dream. He quickly felt his face to make sure it was still human. This second dream was more vivid than the first. Not wanting to wake Christina--his mind quickly turned from what his dream self did to her, what he was planning to do--he stayed in bed.

How was it possible to pick up a dream, exactly where you left off, after being awake an entire day? There was more to this than he could see, but who could he talk to? He didn't want to worry Christi, but he needed to talk to someone. Perhaps the Counsel of Watchers would be helpful. It could be a sign of another Apocalypse. There hadn't been one in a few years, the world was about due. If that was all then they should have it under control. Mayja and her Watcher, Hermoine, were probably all over it by now. Angel would call in the morning, since they'd be out patrolling tonight.

Christina threw one of her legs across his and murmured in her sleep. She had been curled up against his side while he idly stroked her arm. Angel wished he was sharing her dream. What would happen if he kissed her awake? Only one way to find out. . .

6

"Hey, Hermoine? It's Angel."

"Good morning, Angel," she was smiling despite her aristocratic English accent. Were all Watchers English? "May I ask why you're calling?"

He shifted on his feet, "Actually, I was wondering if another Apocalypse was on the way."

"What?!"

He winced. "I'll take it there isn't?"

"Hey Hermoine, who ya talkin' to," someone asked in the background. Mayja most likely.

"Angel actually. He's asking about an Apocalypse."

He could hear books being slammed onto a desk, but still couldn't see her. "Another one?" Pop! Well, someone was chewing gum, and it wasn't Hermoine.

"Stop that! Angel? I'm sorry, are you still there?"

"Yes, of course." Some conventions of phone conversations never changed, despite being able to see the person you were talking to, "So you were saying. . .?"

"Ah, yes. Well, no one has reported any signs of the End of the World. Any reason your, uh, asking?"

He sighed, he really didn't want to get into the details. "Well," and he told her about his dreams, including the one from last night that he'd kept from Christi.

"And you say this isn't how it happened originally?"

"Yes. I'm just worried it might be something. Something Apocalyptic." It sounded silly even to his ears.

Hermoine looked slightly flustered. "Sounds like a typical bad dream to me."

"Yes, I know," he interrupted her, "but dreams don't pick up where they left off the night before. I've had recurring dreams, even weird ones like this, but they've never given me such a bad feeling."

"I see. Well, I don't think it's quite an Apocalypse, though I'd say we're about due--"

"That's what I thought."

"But, nevertheless, it could still be something. I'll look into it."

"Thanks, Hermoine. I appreciate it."

"No problem, Angel. And say hello to Christina for me."

"I will." He shut down the vizuphone.

7

Christina looked around the apartment. Who knew that an ex-Slayer would be married to one of the most famous vampires in history? She certainly hadn't expected it, nor had anyone else as far as she could tell. Sometimes she got the feeling that she'd done all this before. Impossible. Christi didn't believe in past lives and all that rot, as her Watcher, Bishop, used to say.

Interesting name for a watcher she thought. And like all watchers, she supposed, he was English. Strange lot, watchers. To think Rupert Giles had been one of the most relaxed of them all! Just the thought sent her into paroxysms of giggles. What a state to be caught in if Angel came home at that moment. He'd tease her mercilessly for the rest of the afternoon.

Thinking of Angel reminded her of his dreams. He hadn't been talking about them for the past few days, so she assumed they were gone. She should ask.

Christina would, just as soon as she took a nap. Funny, she was very tired lately. It was more than bodily fatigue--though her very bones ached sometimes--as mental fatigue. It almost felt like she'd been outwitting yet another demon ghoulie who just wouldn't die. Not that it hadn't happened before, but this seemed just a bit unusual. Perhaps a trip to the doctor was in order? Actually being an ex-Slayer is what made it funny. They had the nasty good luck of excellent health, which meant no sick-days from school for them. Then again, exhaustion wasn't exactly an infirmity. Either way, she'd take a nap now and see the doctor tomorrow if it persisted. That's what her mother always told her to do. (Not that it ever came to that.)

Christina wondered how her mother was doing, just before nodding off...

8

She was running, running from him.

He was right behind her, then he wasn't. He was playing with her mind, she knew. One moment she felt his breath on her neck, the next letting her think she'd dodged away just in time only for him to suddenly appear in her path. Then there he was. She couldn't stop herself from running straight into his arms.

"Hello again. So very nice to see you, I was just about ready for my midnight snack," he said, his features hard and alien, his eyes inhuman.

She screamed as he bit into her neck.