Author's Notes: The flu is completely gone, Spring Break is here, and I'm finally home, so hopefully you guys can expect updates on my other Buffy stories sometime during the week. I have to admit that not writing for weeks at a time left this chapter to be a bit of a challenge for me to write, but I'll get my groove back. That aside, I'm so sorry for the lack of updates on this story. I will try to have the final chapter posted as soon as possible, which will explain more about the events of this chapter, and of course the masquerade ball, but for now, here's chapter four. Enjoy!
Chapter Four
"...The armies of the night are coming..."
She tugged at the bloodstained stake that was protruding from the vampire's unbeaten heart, her lips thinning into a grim, determined line. She continued to pull at the weapon until it finally released itself from the chest cavity, leaving her slightly breathless. Her knees threatened to buckle underneath the sudden dead weight that was hers, but she somehow managed to hold on against the nearby stair railing, leaning desperately for the support that it was providing.
Inhaling a breath of much needed air, she closed her eyes briefly, wanting nothing more than to remain still and alone for the remainder of the late night. Her body was aching throughout, her skin ablaze, but she suppressed the pain despite the terrible sensations that fluctuated. Swiping bloody fingers across the portion of her black jeans, she carefully rose to her feet, her throat and lips parched and in need of water.
The vampire laid strewn near the coffee table, his hollowed eyes transfixed on the crown moldings that paneled the ceiling, arms and legs unmoving before they transformed into the usual motes of ashes that vampires left in their wake.
"Finally," Buffy muttered, licking and nursing her cracked, blistered lips. The battle against the vampire left her feeling overly strained, as if she felt herself being stretched apart into impossible lengths, as if the task had left her feeling mundane.
Slayer? The voice in her mind began with caution. "I'm fine," Buffy replied shortly with a wave of her hand, pushing herself to head directly into the kitchen, her throat screaming for the thirst to be quenched. Heading towards the sink, she reached for the only available glass mug that stood motionlessly amongst the crowded counter, the need for water becoming more unbearable by each passing second.
Fighting had always left her with the need to drink; to lose herself in food.
Moments later, with her eyes perching over the rim of the glass, her shoulders heightened in tension as she sensed a presence emanating within the vicinity. "You don't have to say anything. I know you're here," she called out meekly, setting the mug against the counter tiles.
She felt herself becoming weak despite the lack of introduction on his part. Because she knew it was him. She had no doubt in her mind. Now, there was nowhere else to go. Nowhere to turn to. But she didn't care in the least bit.
"Your Watcher trained you quite well. Sadly, not so fortunate for my vampire minion. He was foolish," Angelus spoke, surprise revulsion in his expression. She could hear the sound of light footsteps approaching, etching closer and closer, but she continued to stay put. "Apologies, my dear Buffy."
"Why are you here?" She asked in a neutral voice, her eyes glancing out into the empty backyard, ignoring his apology.
"Because I want to. Because I want you. I am not here for anything else. You are the only one that I deem as relevant," he answered simply, the desire for her slowly reaching to the surface, difficult for him to contain.
She felt the light trace of his cold fingertips touching along her shoulder, reaching towards the vein that was pulsing heavily within the crook of her neck. She could feel herself slipping against him.
You have to stop this. He wants to drink you. He's only using you, the voice warned.
"So?" Buffy snarled, feeling his hand pulling her towards him, his cool breath tickling her bare skin, sending pleasurably shivers to course throughout her body. In her heart, she didn't want him to stop.
Just one more drink, and you'll become one of them. He wants that to happen. You can't let it. You can't let him win.
"So…intoxicating," Angelus murmured. Buffy detected a growl underneath his voice, alerting her that he would soon feed. She didn't show an ounce of concern in the matter.
It would be so easy to give up, she decided. To give up having to fight the vampires and demons. To be one of them. To be his. What would life be like then? To be able to spend eternity with him? To just be lovers?
No, the voice continued with a desperate edge.
"Do it," Buffy whimpered, reaching for his hand. "Your wish is my command, beloved. Soon, you and I will be as one," Angelus cajoled in a soothing tone.
And for the second time, she felt the sharpness of fangs digging deep into her throat, entering the same puncture wounds that had been there from the night before. She released a gasp of ecstasy as waves of dizziness raced through her mind, her body beginning to limp against his steady arms.
"Angel..." she cried in a low voice, unable to pronounce his true name.
She didn't want him to stop whatsoever. She begged him to continue drinking her.
For in hopes that she would soon become one with the night.