author: Lucinda
rating: pg 13
main characters: Darla, Angelus
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any character from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, created by Joss Whedon.
distribution: Jinni, Paula, Cat anyone else ask.
note: Jinni's weekly poetry challenge #9. Set before the series began.
"He was my north, my south, my east and west;
My working week, my Sunday best;
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song.
I thought that love would last forever, ... I was wrong. "
-- W.H. Auden, 'Song IX' from 'Twelve Songs'
* * * * *
Darla smiled as she traced her fingers over the tattoo that graced the shoulder of her Angelus. He was her favorite Childe, the only one that she would still want to have traveling with her, the only one that she'd stayed close enough to help influence her grandchildren. He was a magnificent specimen of a man.
A handsome face, a muscular, pleasing body, a quick wit and an appreciation for the fine arts of cruelty... Angelus was everything that she could want in a childe, or in a lover. He was nearly perfect, which was only proper, as she'd taught him everything that he knew about being a vampire.
Smiling, Darla glanced at the girl in the corner, a frightened woman child who couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen at the most. She sat in the corner, her hands tied, her mouth gagged with a silken scarf. The fear was almost thick enough to taste, and it was almost surprising that it hadn't woke her darling boy from his slumber.
"Wake up, my precious." She ran her fingernails along his back, suddenly digging in just a little along his ribs.
Growling, he twisted on the silken sheets, glaring sleepily at her. "Darla... why did y' have to be wakin' me up like that?" He paused, tilting his head slightly as the scent of the fear filled his nostrils. "Mmmm... We have company?"
"I found her along the road. She even had a bundle of things." Darla chuckled, looking at the girl, seeing the tear tracks on her cheeks, the shimmer of those large dark eyes. "I think she was trying to run away from home."
Angelus slid from the bed, gloriously naked, every movement filled with predatory grace and confidence. "So, what shall we do with the lass?"
The girl cringed, her eyes riveted on his exposed body, shaking even more. There was a slight whimper; something that Darla knew would only increase her childe's arousal. The tears began to flow more rapidly down the gypsy girls face.
He knelt down beside the girl, pulling her close with a bruising grip on her arm, and leaned closer, licking a tear from her cheek. "So sweet and helpless..."
Moving closer, Darla placed her hand on his shoulder, smiling at the girl. "I have a few suggestions, if you're out of ideas. The poor girl's probably still a virgin. Why don't we show her what a real man can do?"
Chuckling darkly, Angelus rose to his feet, dragging the girl upwards as well. "What a delightful idea."
* * * * *
Darla sat up in her bed, gasping for unneeded air. She could still see everything from the dream-memory of the night that she and Angelus had killed the Kalderash girl. The girl who's clan had been so angered that they'd cursed her Childe with a soul. They'd bound her delightfully cruel childe with a conscience, with morality. It had almost broken him, and he'd gone away for a while. He'd tried to come back to them, to her, but she'd pushed him. Pushed for him to be as he'd been before, and demanded too much too fast.
Now he was gone. No longer in her arms, in her bed. She didn't even know where he was, what continent, what city. He'd vanished from their residence in China, vanished into the darkness. At least she knew that he was still out there, somewhere. She was still his Sire, still had given him the blood that had granted him this eternal life. That had forged their bond, and that bond still reached towards him.
"Where are you, my darling boy? Are you safe from the sunlight? Have you been feeding well?" The words slid out into the air and Darla shivered, pulling on a silken robe.
How could she have known? How could a simple night's pleasure ruin and destroy so much? It made no sense to her, but it had happened.
She still worried about him, missed him, ached for his presence and his touch. His own childer, William and Drusilla, had been horribly upset as well. None of their family had dealt well with his disappearance.
Churning somewhere near her stomach was an unfamiliar sensation, thick and cold. It felt similar to a bruise and a chill, and it grew stronger as she remembered that night, the girl's screams and pleadings, the way that they'd slowly broken her, leaving her body discarded, cast aside like a child's broken toy.
Perhaps it was guilt?
Darla growled, and stalked towards her bathing chamber. She was a vampire, she wasn't supposed to feel guilty. Or regretful. She was just supposed to do as she pleased, to take what she wanted and enjoy her indulgences.
But she still missed her darling boy. Especially tonight, on the anniversary of the gypsy girl's death. The anniversary of the night everything had begun to crumble, not that they'd known.
As Darla soaked in the hot water, she tried to convince herself that the moisture on her face was nothing more than condensed steam, or perhaps she'd splashed the water a little when she'd lowered her body into the perfumed waters. It certainly wasn't a tear. Vampires didn't cry, and especially not over something like a dream, or a memory.
By the time the water was cool, she'd almost convinced herself of the lie.
End Bad Gifts.
rating: pg 13
main characters: Darla, Angelus
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any character from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, created by Joss Whedon.
distribution: Jinni, Paula, Cat anyone else ask.
note: Jinni's weekly poetry challenge #9. Set before the series began.
"He was my north, my south, my east and west;
My working week, my Sunday best;
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song.
I thought that love would last forever, ... I was wrong. "
-- W.H. Auden, 'Song IX' from 'Twelve Songs'
* * * * *
Darla smiled as she traced her fingers over the tattoo that graced the shoulder of her Angelus. He was her favorite Childe, the only one that she would still want to have traveling with her, the only one that she'd stayed close enough to help influence her grandchildren. He was a magnificent specimen of a man.
A handsome face, a muscular, pleasing body, a quick wit and an appreciation for the fine arts of cruelty... Angelus was everything that she could want in a childe, or in a lover. He was nearly perfect, which was only proper, as she'd taught him everything that he knew about being a vampire.
Smiling, Darla glanced at the girl in the corner, a frightened woman child who couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen at the most. She sat in the corner, her hands tied, her mouth gagged with a silken scarf. The fear was almost thick enough to taste, and it was almost surprising that it hadn't woke her darling boy from his slumber.
"Wake up, my precious." She ran her fingernails along his back, suddenly digging in just a little along his ribs.
Growling, he twisted on the silken sheets, glaring sleepily at her. "Darla... why did y' have to be wakin' me up like that?" He paused, tilting his head slightly as the scent of the fear filled his nostrils. "Mmmm... We have company?"
"I found her along the road. She even had a bundle of things." Darla chuckled, looking at the girl, seeing the tear tracks on her cheeks, the shimmer of those large dark eyes. "I think she was trying to run away from home."
Angelus slid from the bed, gloriously naked, every movement filled with predatory grace and confidence. "So, what shall we do with the lass?"
The girl cringed, her eyes riveted on his exposed body, shaking even more. There was a slight whimper; something that Darla knew would only increase her childe's arousal. The tears began to flow more rapidly down the gypsy girls face.
He knelt down beside the girl, pulling her close with a bruising grip on her arm, and leaned closer, licking a tear from her cheek. "So sweet and helpless..."
Moving closer, Darla placed her hand on his shoulder, smiling at the girl. "I have a few suggestions, if you're out of ideas. The poor girl's probably still a virgin. Why don't we show her what a real man can do?"
Chuckling darkly, Angelus rose to his feet, dragging the girl upwards as well. "What a delightful idea."
* * * * *
Darla sat up in her bed, gasping for unneeded air. She could still see everything from the dream-memory of the night that she and Angelus had killed the Kalderash girl. The girl who's clan had been so angered that they'd cursed her Childe with a soul. They'd bound her delightfully cruel childe with a conscience, with morality. It had almost broken him, and he'd gone away for a while. He'd tried to come back to them, to her, but she'd pushed him. Pushed for him to be as he'd been before, and demanded too much too fast.
Now he was gone. No longer in her arms, in her bed. She didn't even know where he was, what continent, what city. He'd vanished from their residence in China, vanished into the darkness. At least she knew that he was still out there, somewhere. She was still his Sire, still had given him the blood that had granted him this eternal life. That had forged their bond, and that bond still reached towards him.
"Where are you, my darling boy? Are you safe from the sunlight? Have you been feeding well?" The words slid out into the air and Darla shivered, pulling on a silken robe.
How could she have known? How could a simple night's pleasure ruin and destroy so much? It made no sense to her, but it had happened.
She still worried about him, missed him, ached for his presence and his touch. His own childer, William and Drusilla, had been horribly upset as well. None of their family had dealt well with his disappearance.
Churning somewhere near her stomach was an unfamiliar sensation, thick and cold. It felt similar to a bruise and a chill, and it grew stronger as she remembered that night, the girl's screams and pleadings, the way that they'd slowly broken her, leaving her body discarded, cast aside like a child's broken toy.
Perhaps it was guilt?
Darla growled, and stalked towards her bathing chamber. She was a vampire, she wasn't supposed to feel guilty. Or regretful. She was just supposed to do as she pleased, to take what she wanted and enjoy her indulgences.
But she still missed her darling boy. Especially tonight, on the anniversary of the gypsy girl's death. The anniversary of the night everything had begun to crumble, not that they'd known.
As Darla soaked in the hot water, she tried to convince herself that the moisture on her face was nothing more than condensed steam, or perhaps she'd splashed the water a little when she'd lowered her body into the perfumed waters. It certainly wasn't a tear. Vampires didn't cry, and especially not over something like a dream, or a memory.
By the time the water was cool, she'd almost convinced herself of the lie.
End Bad Gifts.