|
Now was it xeirgos cumma delinti or xenieros cunma dalenta? Depending on which dialect he’s dealing with the phrase translated as ‘the stranger who delights’ or ‘flowers which taste nice’. Neither of which seemed likely in a spell for changing straw into gold. Bugger. He’d been working on the bloody translation for hours. He noticed that the room had grown quite dark. He checked the clock and was startled to find it was nearly eight p.m. No wonder his head hurt. The phone rang; he let the machine get it. Good catch: it was Lilah again. Morbid curiosity made him listen: She wanted to see him. She had a proposal he might be interested in. A small job with growth potential, she was sure he’d be up to it. Bloody hell. The woman seemed to speak solely in innuendoes these days. His own fault of course, he should never have shagged her. It happened shortly before Angelus had been released. On the fatal night he’d been in the midst of getting self-righteously drunk. Cursing his life and the people he had thought were his friends. The man-- no – the creature who he’d admired and tried to save from disaster and who in return had tried to suffocate him and promised to see him dead. When he’d tried to speak to Fred she’d refused to talk to him, or give him any kind of a chance to explain his actions. Gunn had dumped his possessions off at the apartment and warned him not to come back to the Hyperion. He hadn’t heard anything from Cordelia and he didn’t expect to. To hell with all of them. He didn’t need them. He’d be fine on his own. Just him and his good buddy Alcohol. He’d just poured a final drink and laid the dead soldier down when the doorbell rang. The sun was down, but he staggered across the room and opened the door wide, not really caring much if it was Angel come to finish him off. “Lilah?” She was very nearly the last person he’d expected to see. Standing there gleaming with her perfect makeup and her tight linen suit and looking damned attractive. “Hello Wesley.” She stepped past him into his apartment. “What do you want Lilah?” He grabbed her arm roughly. “On second thought don’t bother, just get out.” A sly smile curved her expensively painted mouth. “Oooh, Wes, I didn’t know you cared.” “I don’t.” He pushed her toward the door but there must have been some unevenness in the floor because he stumbled and fell into her, shoving her against the wall. They were nose to nose and all he could see was wide eyes and glistening lips. Curious to find out what evil tasted like he leaned forward and kissed her. Her mouth opened wide, lawyer’s tongue uncoiling in his mouth. He tore her fine silk stockings down, rucked up her tailored suit and fucked her hard over the back of the couch. Then they moved to the bedroom. The next morning she woke him with her mouth on his cock and he came, then went back to sleep without troubling to do anything for her. She was gone when he woke the second time, and he’d assumed that was it. He was, as always, a dreadful judge of character. Lilah was waiting for him in his darkened apartment that evening. She’d left off the underwear this time but she did bring a fine selection of scarves with her. As a sexual partner Lilah was highly skilled, and at that point in his life he’d been so bloody tired it hardly seemed important that she was unrepentantly evil and almost certainly not sleeping with him from honestly carnal motives. He’d been lost enough that he might even have given in to her offer of employment with Wolfram and Hart eventually. But then Angelus was released, the Powers came begging for his help, and after all that, and Drusilla, he found he’d lost his taste for Lilah. There was nothing like dealing with the consequences of evil to put one off intimacy with one of its representatives. When she showed up a few days afterwards, he’d sent her packing. Now, if she’d only stop calling. Right now he ought to be concentrating on the work at hand. It did no good for him to let his mind keep wandering off into the barren fields of regret, anger, and remorse. He longed for a blue police box to whisk him back to the night he’d first uncovered that prophecy. For a chance to ignore the paranoia and mistrust ground into him by his upbringing and trust his friends. The niggling feeling that something was watching him had, if anything, become more intense. He considered it more than likely that Lilah’s employers had him under surveillance, but this constant crawling between his shoulder blades seemed a trifle -- unsubtle. Still… His thoughts shattered as the front door flew open and smacked into the wall with a gunshot crack. Heart pounding like the clappers, Wesley shot out of his chair and glared at Drusilla. She stood in the open doorway smiling seductively. Her expression changed when she tried to cross the threshold and found herself barred. “Naughty boy, let me in, I have something for you.” Her smile promised diabolical pleasures. “Something nice.” He shuddered. “Go away Drusilla.” She pouted. “Don’t you love me anymore?” He stopped a careful foot back from the barrier and kept his gaze safely away from her dangerous eyes. “I never did. If you don’t go away, I’ll tell Daddy you’re still in L.A. Did you enjoy the pretty flames? Her face twisted into honest inhumanity. “Monster,” she hissed. “Let me in and I’ll kiss all the pain away…” “Last chance Drusilla.” “She’s watching you,” Drusilla said. “She sees all your sins but she can’t touch your skin.” “Just go,” he said wearily. “And never come back.” “Heartless beast!” Abruptly the demon and her anger drained away. “Very well, I’ll go. Two’s company but this is much too crowded.” She turned her back on him with that and sashayed away. Wesley waited until the tap, tap, tap of her shoes on the concrete had faded into the distance before he stepped close enough to shut the door. One hinge was broken and had to be forced into place in order to get the door shut. So much for his security deposit. Wesley sighed. What he needed right now was a good strong cuppa, Wesley thought fortified with a large measure of whiskey.
He held himself above her so he could see her face clearly as he entered her. Her eyes were fixed on his face, her mouth curved in a blissful smile. Pity Dru’s little trick didn’t work on vampires. The victims always looked so happy even when they were bleeding out in a gutter. “Who am I?” He growled as he sank into her to the hilt. Fuck he’d missed this, the feeling of mortal flesh surrounding him all softness and searing heat. “Angel,” she gasped. He slapped her, just hard enough to get her attention. She pouted and waited to be told what she’d done wrong. “Try again,” he suggested. Her confusion cleared. “Angelus.” Her smile mirrored his, pleased to have got it right. “Yeah baby, it’s me, it’s always gonna be me,” she groaned as he pulled back until only the tip of was still inside. “Call me Angel again and I’ll cut your tongue out,” he warned and slammed back in. He began to pound into her hard and fast, wanting her to feel it, her hips rose to meet each thrust her expression ecstatic, body gleaming with sweat. She was so fucking beautiful and she was his, his, his. He bent down to cover her mouth with his, filling her mouth with his tongue as he shifted into his true face and sliced into her lips with his fangs. She whined a little at the pain but didn’t pull away as he sucked the nectar from the well of her mouth while he continued to slide in and out of her slick heat. He pushed her knees up so he could plunge deeper into her, he’d never felt anything so good. She mewled and shivered, on the edge of her own orgasm, snarling he grabbed her face between his huge hands and twisted till he heard that sweet crack! Her lovely brown eyes went dark as the pupils expanded and Angelus roared and came shaking her limp body with his triumph. Angel opened his eyes into darkness. The sheet between his legs was tented in the sheet where his cock stood yearning for Cordelia. He lay with his hands fisted in the sheets, grimly determined not to give in. His senses told him it was still dark outside but he has no idea what time or what date it is. Time had gone blurry while he drifted between waking misery and pleasurable dreams of atrocities. Gunn brought blood every day and sometimes Angel drank it. He wanted Gunn to leave him alone, whenever he’s around the weight of his need eats away at his nerves. Gunn needs a sire, but Angel couldn’t be that. He knows he’s letting them all down, knows he ought to pull himself together. But he can’t do it. Hard as it was being around Gunn, being around Cordelia, having to see her so beautiful and forever lost to him was more than he could take. They’d been so close to something, before it blew up in their faces. He’d have walked into the sun if he hadn’t promised her. Instead he’d tried to blot out his pain by throwing himself recklessly into the fray, chasing death. Unfortunately they’d figured it out and stopped him. “Angel?” Ah Christ, he’s still dreaming. This time it isn’t Cordelia, this time it’s Buffy. His first sin. The illusion is perfect, right down to the scent of her choking him with the memory of dead love. He can even sense the unique rhythm of her heartbeat. He remembers it slowing as he drained her. Angel closed his eyes tight, praying he’ll wake up before things got worse. “Angel?” This wasn’t a room; this was a crypt, dusty and bare. It took Buffy a moment to accept that the figure curled up half-cover by a sheet, was Angel. She winced as she got closer and caught a whiff of eau d’homeless guy. His long hair hid his face and his arms were wrapped around his emaciated body, clawed hands clenched in his own flesh. Buffy felt a flare of pure rage. How could his so-called friends leave Angel here like this? Didn’t any of them care? She knelt on the edge of the bed and put her hand on his shoulder and recoiled at the cold greasy feel of his skin. “Angel,” she said. “It’s me. Wake up.” “Buffy,” he murmured. She pulled some of the hair aside so she could see his face. “Yeah, it’s me. Open your eyes Angel. Please.” His eyes were clouded and confused as he looked up at her. “Buffy?” “Hi there,” she said tenderly. He sat up and his eyes seemed to clear a little. “How – why are you here?” “Cordelia called me.” He shivered as she wrapped her arms around his tense body. “She told me about everything. God, Angel, I’m so sorry.” She pulled him closer, taking his weight. The position was awkward and it was suddenly obvious that he hadn’t been wearing anything under the sheet, but she wasn’t letting go of him now. “Buffy,” he said and kissed the top of her head. There was something that wasn’t a stake pressing against her thigh, Buffy tried to pull away. “You need a shower, mister,” she said trying to paper over the awkwardness. Angel looked at her eyes gleaming like black diamonds. “Buffy.” He kissed her. Time rolled back and she was sixteen again, innocent and in love. Back then slaying and Angel’s kisses defined her world. And it was a good world. This is wrong, wrong, wrong, she thought as she kissed him back.
“Hi guys.” “Angel.” Cordelia stared. He stood in the lobby looking like a mime from hell, his black clothes hung on his emaciated frame. His hair was slicked back, still wet from the shower. Cordelia still felt like applauding because he was up and out of his room and talking to them. She moved forward, but Gunn beat her to it giving him a manly hug which Angel accepted awkwardly. Lorne hung back for a moment, an odd expression on his face, then he swept up and laid a big one on him before Angel could get away. Then it was her turn. Cordelia stepped forward, beaming. “Hi. You hungry?” Angel looked at her as though he was almost afraid to speak. He nodded. “Yeah, uh, and you could skip the cinnamon this time.” Ohmigod, an attempt at humor, lame but still. Cordelia beamed at him and ran to the kitchen. When she came back with the steaming mug Buffy had reappeared. She was standing next to Angel with a big grin on her face, holding his arm possessively. Her hair lay in damp curls on her forehead. Cordelia’s smile froze as she tried to find anywhere else in the room to look. Lorne wouldn’t look at her. He knew. Gunn too, probably. Well, she’d known this would happen, didn’t she? True love, they were meant to be together, no reason for them not to be now, so why was she surprised and hurt. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She made herself step forward. “Here you go.” She shoved the blood in his general direction. He wouldn’t meet her eyes as he took it. “Thanks Cordelia,” Buffy said. Not trusting herself enough to answer Cordelia nodded and stepped away. ~*~
His existence was blurry green letters on faded black.
The phone rang. Linwood grabbed it. He’d almost begun to believe that Marta’s phone call had been a joke or a hallucination. “Mr. Murrow?” an unfamiliar British voice asked. “Yes.” “Time to go.” The lights went out as the office popped out of existence. He heard a roaring and an irresistible pull as he was dragged screaming into the void. For an endless moment Linwood was lost in impenetrable darkness and then he was somewhere else. Surrounded by light, like the end of the tunnel he certainly hadn’t experienced when he was dying. “Marta?” His voice echoed oddly in the confines of – wherever he was. “Hello Linnie.” His wife’s lovely face suddenly appeared in front of him. Beside her was another unfamiliar and much less attractive face: a man in his fifties, hawk-nosed and dangerously lean. “This is Ethan Rayne. He’s a sorcerer, he’s going to help us out.” “Where am I?” Rayne smiled. “Los Angeles. I’ve transferred your essence into a sphere of Aekios. I hope you’re comfortable in there.” So, no longer in hell but still incorporeal and trapped in a crystal ball, but fuck it. It was an improvement. “Good work. So when do we go after Angel?” “Soon, very soon.” Ethan smiled. ~*~
“Thanks Dennis.” Cordelia slid down into the warm water, stopping with her nose just above the bubbles. She breathed in the soft haze of bath oil, soft music playing in the background, flickering candles, the whole Calgon experience. God she was tired. She groaned contently as the water began to swirl soothingly around her shoulders and her back, her legs and what mom used to call her Very Special Place. Aaah. Friendly ghost, way better than a whirlpool. Every girl should have one. She was not mad at Buffy. She wasn’t. She didn’t hate her. There was no point. Buffy was the hero, a champion like Angel. She was the name above the title, when she was around anyone else was lucky to get any lines at all. She’s not mad at Angel either. She always knew he loved Buffy, always knew the two of them would end up together. Champions. Her hand drifted between her legs, pretending that the fingers stroking the length of her cleft belonged to someone else. His fingers flutter back and forth between outer and inner lips, lazily teasing her before placing a thumb firmly on the center of her sensation while his fingers slipped inside her. Ummm, good. Once upon a time she’d been shy about doing this with Dennis watching, but she’d finally accepted that he saw everything that happened in the apartment anyway and that she needed to deal with it or live a life of frustration and extreme bitchiness. Cordelia began to rock her hips as the hot water tap came on, letting a welcome thread of warmth into the cooling water. “Lotta tension in there babe,” he said digging his fingers brutally into her neck. “Let me take care of that.” “You’re not here,” Cordelia insisted. Angelus smirked down at her. “Bothers you, doesn’t it, thinking about them together?” He trailed bubbles across her breast with a white finger, chuckling as her nipples hardened. “Bet she kisses the living hell out of him. Buff always was a helluva kisser.” “Shut up.” “Think farmboy taught her to give a decent blowjob? Then again the whole awkward virgin thing is kinda hot too.” “Go back to hell asshole.” “Think he makes her scream like I made you scream? Wonder if she’s learned any new tricks since the last time. Can’t see the farm boy being much of a teacher, but who knows?” His hand dipped into the water between her legs gently stroking, coaxing her legs open again. This was the bad part, not the brutal pounding or the elaborate perversions, but the soft lying touches she could pretend were Angel’s. “You’ll never get over me baby, might as well stop trying.” She moaned unable to move except to spread her legs wider as he thrust his finger deeper inside her flicking her clit with his thumb. “I’ll always be there, every time you feel a man’s hand on you, You’ll never be free of me,” he gloated. “NO!” Cordelia shouted sitting up and splashing water onto the floor. She could feel Dennis’ distress like a low hum. “I’m O.K.” she reassured him sinking back into the lukewarm water. She wasn’t, but she would be, she told herself. There was no fucking way she was going to let him win.
White smoke billowed up as the herbs hit the heated copper bowl of the censer, adding to the already thick miasma. Wesley took a step back. The preparations for the spell were complete: offerings made, the bounding circle drawn and consecrated, the bowl of pure water that would show him what or who had been watching him was set in place. Now there was nothing left to do now but the actual incantation. Stepping carefully over the protective circle he sat in a semi-lotus and closed his eyes, preparing himself. He wasn’t fond of magic since, frankly, he wasn’t very good at it. Nonetheless like all Watcher candidates he’d had to learn the basics and in this case he saw no other option; something had to be done. The constant feeling of being watched has grown steadily worse. He’d woken last night gasping in panic, certain that he could see the outline of someone sitting at the foot of his bed, but when he’d turned on the light of course there was no one there. The situation was intolerable. He closed his eyes, cleared his throat, and began to speak the words he’d carefully memorized. His lips were dry and the words seemed to drop like stones into the thick air, but all the years of rote memorization at the Academy came in useful here. He finished the incantation confident that he’d gotten the words correct. He counted to six and opened his eyes. He looked down into the bowl where the image of whatever or whoever was plaguing him should have appeared. Wesley squinted, but there was nothing. The room was hazy with smoke, dark layers hung up by the ceiling while thinner layers curled below. He reminded himself to reconnect the smoke alarm when this was over. He coughed as some of the haze got into his throat. The scrying bowl remained innocent of any image. Bugger, something must have gone wrong. Perhaps the herbs hadn’t been up to standard... A trickle of unease ran down his spine when he noticed that, oddly, the murk in the room seemed to be growing thicker. He blinked. Yes, it was definitely growing darker in here. He watched unhappily as the smoke curdled into a distorted human shape, it hung in the middle of the room for a long moment, the dirty gray and white vapor shifting and moving in disturbing ways while Wesley cursed himself for fooling about with magic and desperately tried to work out what he should do. The smoke figure drifted aimlessly and seemed to fade a little. Wesley let out a breath and was just starting to hope when it stopped dead and seemed to focus itself on him. It came at him in a frictionless rush, empty eye and mouth holes gaping in its featureless face. Wesley recoiled and his foot broke the circle. He threw himself backwards and scrambled to his feet. “Wesley! Oh thank goodness, I’ve tried everything to make you see me!” “Fred?” Impossible hope leapt in his heart as he turned around. Fred was standing there, her feet not quite touching the floor. She looked just as she had the last time he’d seen her alive, fragile and impossibly beautiful. Wesley got to his feet, his eyes never leaving the apparition. She was slightly translucent, he could see shadows and brightness faintly through her form and her words didn’t quite sync up with her mouth. He knew it couldn’t be true. It had to be some sort of a trick. Some demon’s idea of fun to torment him with the image of the girl he’d lost… “Ah’ve tried to reach Charles, but he can’t seem to hear me at all. Maybe cause I’m new at this whole haunting thing. Do you think maybe Dennis could give me some tips? I thought maybe because of her being all psychic and everything that Cordy might be able to hear me, but nope. Angel’s all depressed; I don’t think he’s listening to anyone. Lorne’s the only one I could get through to but he didn’t think anyone would believe on account of he has to be drunk to see me.” It’s Fred. “Fred. My God. I’ve missed you.” Her face softened. “Missed you too. Even though I really never left. I’ve been hanging around you or the hotel since I died. Guess I’m just stubborn.” “I’m so very sorry.” “Why? It wasn’t your fault. I’m not even mad at Angel. It hardly hurt at all.” “If only I’d been quicker, I might have saved you.” “Nope. He killed me straight off. I never even had time to be scared. Looked up from working on the computer and there Angel was and I thought he was looking a little different, but I was just so happy he was out of his room. Turned my head to look at something – and wham! I’m guessing he snapped my neck. Next thing I knew I was floatin’ up on the ceiling watching him drain my body. Just pure nastiness him leaving me in the dumpster like that, I’m glad he’s gone for good.” Wesley winced at the thought of what else she might have seen. “Anyway, we’ve got more important things to worry about than that. I’ve got to tell you something.” He should have remembered that ghosts almost never brought good news. “What is it?” “You need to go home Wesley.” “Home? To England?” “To the Hyperion. Home. With your real family. That’s the main reason I’m still hanging around – I think. I’m not gonna rest until everyone’s O.K. again.” “Fred, I appreciate the sentiment, but I think the chances of Angel or any of the other members of the old gang ever forgiving me are extremely slight.” “Well, I know for a fact Gunn isn’t mad at you.” “Then why haven’t I heard from him?” “Because Charles is nearly as stubborn as you are.” “Oh, Fred.” He sighed. “It’s O.K. Wes, It’ll get better. There’s some big changes comin’.” “Oh, lovely. I can’t wait.” |
Oni's place: http://wasabi-oni.populli.net
ck
ne
xt