Author's Name: Soo W
Disclaimer: These characters belong to WB/Joss/Fox etc etc, but certainly not to me. I'm only writing this for fun and therapy. And because there are NEVER, ever, enough flashbacks.
Pairing: Angelus/Darla
Spoilers: Based loosely on events in Becoming and The Prodigal
Short Summary: In pursuit of Anna... a letter is written. Darla decides not to dust Angelus at birth and he makes it through the first weeks of his unlife relatively unscathed. But Angelus is still obsessed with Anna. Darla helps him find her, but will there be a price for her assistance? Darla's POV.
Comments: Follows on from "Echoes (I) - Caught Red-Handed". Second in the "Echoes" series. The "Echoes" series is a sequel to Pen Pictures, and the whole lot starts from the premise that Liam was having an affair with Anna (the servant who appears in a flashback in AtS) before he was turned. [ There will be three more in this series shortly: "Chosen" from Anna's POV, "The Wheel's Kick" from Angelus' POV and "Kaleidoscopic" from everyone's POV. ]
I returned to the tavern alone a few days later, and found out easily enough that the precious Anna lives near to her place of work, in a house of tiny lodgings a few minutes walk away. So it became necessary to entice her away; to arrange a meeting between her and the boy. I will not risk my neck and his by laying siege so close to the Slayer's nightly patrol.
"Dearest Anna..."
Or perhaps that should be "Dear Anna", or maybe just "Anna". They lived under the same roof, so I can't think they ever corresponded formally. Nevertheless, he delights in being reckless, and I imagine lots of billet-doux, notes arranging assignations and other foolishness. I must ask him when he wakes.
"I have been searching for you ever since you left my Father's house so suddenly."
Well, that is no more than the truth, and she has no reason to doubt it. She is here. He is here. Ergo...
"You should not have left Galway so soon, and without speaking to me first. I have only ever wanted your happiness. I have settled things with my Father to my own satisfaction, and he does seek not stand in our way, I promise."
I think it best to appeal to the girl's sense of honour. After all, she left him once already, showing a fascinating immunity to his physical charms, and has proven her strength of character by staying away. I don't think "Come to me and we can be together as we always wished" is going to suffice.
"Come to me and we can be together as we always wished."
Although, it's important to say it somewhere, obviously. No-one is totally immune.
"I no longer offer a partial devotion, but all of myself: heart, soul, body, hand - there shall be nothing wanting that will give you peace of mind and no short change for your desires."
A pretty turn of phrase. I can't recall where I've stolen it from. Perhaps one of my gentlemen friends wrote so to me once, when I was the toast of the New World.
Angelus stirs, and rises from the bed to join me at my escritoire.
"I would not importune you at your lodgings or place or work. I know your feelings too well, and have utmost regard for your respectability in this matter."
Now I may be going to far. After all, she did know him; she must have had some inkling of what he was. Still, I can imagine her pretty face shedding tears by this time, when she thinks of how she has wronged the poor lad, so I will leave it in.
Angelus kisses the back of my neck to show his approval, and then asks me what "importune" means. I laugh, and tell him he will soon learn by doing. I allow him to undo the tortoiseshell clasp from my hair and take out the pins one by one. He arranges it in a glacier flow down my back, and remarks that he prefers it thus, unfettered.
Well, I think it's time to close the letter and give my attention to other matters. He has defied me today, and has some amends to make.
"Do me the honour of meeting with me on London Bridge, so that I may at least be allowed to explain myself to you, and be convinced you are well and want for nothing I can, with propriety, provide for you. I shall be there every night from this night forward, between the hours of midnight and one. There are, even at that late hour, always crowds there, and we may meet and talk without being conspicuous. I will be looking for you."
I hand him the pen and he signs the letter with a flourish. Dear thing - I like him a little better with each passing hour.
An hour later, I return to the letter, and add an afterthought.
"Come alone."