Chapter 8
Angel wrapped himself protectively around Buffy, his distress for his beloved temporarily overwhelming his surprise that his soul, his aura, was leaden with light.
He knew what Angelus was likely to be contemplating. The demon would be pondering how to kill Buffy; should he snap her neck, or would turning her be better? Or should he slit her wrists and make her drink her own blood until she chocked on it? So many ways to kill. But which one would be the most prolonged, the most agonising?
* * * * * * Angelus stared at the Slayer's pulsating artery, nearly drooling from the intoxicating scent of her rich, vibrant life-blood coursing through it. He'd give up his fangs for another chance like this.
The Scourge of Europe lost all remnant of conscious thought and, without even morphing into the feral beast he was so proud of, plunged blunt teeth towards the huntress's neck, ripping at the tender flesh. A vulnerable red trickle leaked from the jagged wound.
The savage beast laved at the Slayer's life force.
* * * * * *
Buffy shuddered as Angelus' s rough tongue grated over the slash in her neck. The coppery blood in his mouth must have sent him over the edge; his primal fangs shot down and stabbed her in the neck. Buffy whimpered in pain as the vampire sucked heavily, greedily gulping down her blood. She realised the only reason she was still standing in her dizzy weakness was because of Angelus' s strong grip on her wrists. As the vampire lost his mind in the haze of nutritious blood so long denied, he collapsed on top her, and the 18-year-old slid, barely conscious, to the floor.
Angel knew now was the time to step in. He focused hard on Buffy's throat, doing his best to ignore the relief of not hungering for a taste of her sweet, potent blood. He directed as much energy as he could towards the delicate area Angelus was still feasting on, determined to push his alter- ego away from Buffy.
A powerful surge of shimmering, protective light bolted from other areas of Buffy's body, but the golden aura surrounding it never thinned. The emanating source of blinding, ice-blue energy smothered the wounds in Buffy's neck like a solid plaster, forcing Angelus' s fangs away.
Angel concentrated on pushing the vampire away from his beloved, using every ounce of energy he could draw from his aura. He just hoped Willow completed the spell before he could find no more energy to draw on.
* * * * * * Willow read the final words off the page exactly as the glowing light at Buffy's throat dissolved. As the glistening mist that was Angel's soul darted back to his body, Angelus roared in agony, trapped again; only now for all of time.
Weak and trembling, Angel collapsed to the ground. He dragged himself towards Buffy, crawling over the carpet on his hands and knees and not hearing Willow's voice asking how he was. His cold fingers tentatively felt Buffy's neck for a pulse; Angel could have fainted when he found one, the relief was so great. Tenderly, he crossed his legs and lifted his beloved's head into his lap. One hand stroked the silken skin of her face while the other played, childlike, with her lustrous hair.
Willow, sensing that she was intruding on a private moment, crept from the room, pleased with the end results of her spell.
Angel wrapped himself protectively around Buffy, his distress for his beloved temporarily overwhelming his surprise that his soul, his aura, was leaden with light.
He knew what Angelus was likely to be contemplating. The demon would be pondering how to kill Buffy; should he snap her neck, or would turning her be better? Or should he slit her wrists and make her drink her own blood until she chocked on it? So many ways to kill. But which one would be the most prolonged, the most agonising?
* * * * * * Angelus stared at the Slayer's pulsating artery, nearly drooling from the intoxicating scent of her rich, vibrant life-blood coursing through it. He'd give up his fangs for another chance like this.
The Scourge of Europe lost all remnant of conscious thought and, without even morphing into the feral beast he was so proud of, plunged blunt teeth towards the huntress's neck, ripping at the tender flesh. A vulnerable red trickle leaked from the jagged wound.
The savage beast laved at the Slayer's life force.
* * * * * *
Buffy shuddered as Angelus' s rough tongue grated over the slash in her neck. The coppery blood in his mouth must have sent him over the edge; his primal fangs shot down and stabbed her in the neck. Buffy whimpered in pain as the vampire sucked heavily, greedily gulping down her blood. She realised the only reason she was still standing in her dizzy weakness was because of Angelus' s strong grip on her wrists. As the vampire lost his mind in the haze of nutritious blood so long denied, he collapsed on top her, and the 18-year-old slid, barely conscious, to the floor.
Angel knew now was the time to step in. He focused hard on Buffy's throat, doing his best to ignore the relief of not hungering for a taste of her sweet, potent blood. He directed as much energy as he could towards the delicate area Angelus was still feasting on, determined to push his alter- ego away from Buffy.
A powerful surge of shimmering, protective light bolted from other areas of Buffy's body, but the golden aura surrounding it never thinned. The emanating source of blinding, ice-blue energy smothered the wounds in Buffy's neck like a solid plaster, forcing Angelus' s fangs away.
Angel concentrated on pushing the vampire away from his beloved, using every ounce of energy he could draw from his aura. He just hoped Willow completed the spell before he could find no more energy to draw on.
* * * * * * Willow read the final words off the page exactly as the glowing light at Buffy's throat dissolved. As the glistening mist that was Angel's soul darted back to his body, Angelus roared in agony, trapped again; only now for all of time.
Weak and trembling, Angel collapsed to the ground. He dragged himself towards Buffy, crawling over the carpet on his hands and knees and not hearing Willow's voice asking how he was. His cold fingers tentatively felt Buffy's neck for a pulse; Angel could have fainted when he found one, the relief was so great. Tenderly, he crossed his legs and lifted his beloved's head into his lap. One hand stroked the silken skin of her face while the other played, childlike, with her lustrous hair.
Willow, sensing that she was intruding on a private moment, crept from the room, pleased with the end results of her spell.