SCRIBES OF ANGEL
FanFic
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The Slayer finds her REAL darkness. And likes it.
RATING: NC-17 for General Dark Naughtiness - Hints of character death. Did I
mention the bloodplay and really RAUNCHY SMUT?
DEDICATION: To all the Dark Writers... (makes ya sound like sorceresses or
something, doesn't it?) Especially Kita, Maayan, and Margot LeFay. Hey, Kita,
how do you like my Darkness now, baby? *grin*
Darkness, I Love
by Ducks
I've changed.
I used to be... I don't know... lighter, somehow? Even with all my
responsibilities and worries. But in the past year, I've been on this... Quest,
I guess? Since Ifelt the First Slayer come alive inside of me. Felt her thirst
for the hunt, for blood, for victory before all else... Ever since I had that
first taste of real Darkness. And later, when I drank Dracula's blood... when I
felt his power, the tang of immortality in that cold, dead fluid...
Darkness, he said. Alike, he and I, he told me. Alone in shadow.
At the time, I thought he was full of it. But... as it turns out, I've been
looking for it ever since. In the hunt... prowling the cemeteries, just like
they do. Sniffing the air for their scent. Letting the vibrations of the
living... the dead... the undead... slide over my skin like an electric mist.
My darkness. My power. Dracula was right. And all this time, I had no idea. Or
at least, I didn't want to...
Is that why I love Angel so much? Because we're so alike in that dichotomy of
light and darkness? Was my shadow just lusting after his?
No. I can't think of it like that, because thinking of loving only his darkness
spits in the face of everything we went through... everything he is. It crushes
the memory of his kind smile, his gentle hands, his tender lips. The way he
murmured to me so sweetly that one night...
No. It wasn't just his darkness. But I just can't discount that it was part of
it. Isn't that what I've been trying so hard to understand? How much Darkness
is in me? What is the Slayer? What makes me Chosen?
Blood. Darkness. Just like Dracula said.
And I know now it must be true. I know, because my most erotic memories aren't
of Angel's tender attentions, or hours upon hours of wild, free romping with
Riley... No. The visions in my mind that make me sweat... that make me wet...
make my blood roar and my heart pound... have nothing to do with love, or
touch, or lips and hands and penises between my legs. Nothing to do with sighs
or moans or words of love and affection.
It's teeth. Tiny stiletto points of pure agony and ecstasy. Canines
scraping, then piercing, then plunging into my flesh. My hottest moments have
been with a vampire's fangs in my throat. Angel... Dracula... Spike.
If that's not Darkness, then I don't know what is. And I think I'm finally
getting the point... no pun intended.
Slayer and vampire... two sides of the same coin. Brethren in blood.
So I've been hunting. Lurking around the places where the dead never rest,
tracking my brothers and sisters. The hunt fills me... satiates me. And
sometimes I screw Spike... let him feed from me... these things can take the
edge off.
For a while.
But that's not real, bottom of the abyss darkness. The hunt only lasts a few
minutes at the most, and Spike's hardly even evil anymore. I have this feeling
that if the chip suddenly disappeared, he wouldn't even bother trying to kill
me.
That's what makes him beneath me. Just a distraction. A half-shadow.
So my Quest
has come to this. When Wesley called, crying, practically senseless in his
hysteria, I already knew. I felt him slip away. I went home and cried for two
days, even though I didn't think I had a single Angel-tear left. I mourned him.
Again.
And now I'm waiting for him. I don't have to hunt this demon... I know he's
coming for me.
He doesn't say a word as he approaches, which is a surprise, considering how
much the arrogant bastard usually loves to hear his own voice. He doesn't make
a sound. He's perfect animal grace. So flawless, his movement is like a fine
mist. If I wasn't the Slayer, I would never know he was there, just behind that
wide stone.
He is Darkness rising. I know he's here. I can feel him as strongly as my own
breath, my own heartbeat. And he knows I know. But still we play the game. We
pretend. We wait.
He stands at last, his patience finally wearing thin. Of course, he's been
waiting a Hell of a lot longer for this moment than I have. And he hasn't had
anything to distract him from thinking of me since the last time we met.
Willow said it once -- I'm the only thing he thinks about, soul or no.
I wonder, as he stalks toward me, wearing that heart-stopping lady-killer
smile, just what he plans to do. How many ways has he imagined killing me? Will
he try to turn me? Gut me? Snap my neck like he did Miss Calendar? Skin me like
he tried to do to Giles? Rip my head off like he did Riley? Or will he slit my
throat like Xander, and not even bother to drink, leaving me to bleed as a
signal of just how little he thinks of me?
No. I don't think so. I think he likes our little game. I think he wants to
just touch my Darkness. Just a little taste. He wants our stalemate to go on,
just as it always has. A demon's respect for a creature his equal in every way.
He's inches away, now. So close, he could tear me in two before I took a breath.
Like a mountain of marble. A pale column giant of perfect predator. What better
way to attract human prey than with those deep, liquid chocolate eyes, those
regal cheekbones, those soft lips, that smile that manages to be both intimate
and deadly at once? And his body... he has a body any man on the planet would
kill for.
Or woman, as I well know.
His hands... as he reaches forward to trace my collarbone with a cool
fingertip, I'm suddenly filled with vivid memories of those hands on every inch
of my body. How is it that something so cold and dead is able to set me on
fire?
Our lips smash together with sweet violence, tongues plundering mouths, hot and
cold. Hands on backs, on necks, fingers tangled in hair, clutching. I'm falling
into this Darkness... real Darkness, at last. We hit the ground hard, and my
breath leaves me in a gasp I didn't mean to make out loud. I don't want him to
have the power. He tears off my clothes, and now I'm bare beneath this shadow.
But I've torn off his, as well. The demon, too, is naked. I've torn off his
shell to get to his flesh.
My Darkness equals his.
His muscles under my fingertips feel so right, and his mouth trailing down my
throat, over my sternum, to my breasts... where they belong. He takes one
nipple between his teeth and bites down -- not hard enough to tear, not
yet--just hard enough, and I'm forced to affirm the pure joy of this battle...
his hatred, my lust, with a cry that pierces the night, scattering the night
birds in fear of it. Terror of this mythic battle.
His mouth continues, not gentle, not sweet, not even passionate, down my rib
cage. He bites my stomach, nibbles my hipbones, his hands clutching my flesh
hard enough to bruise, and GOD I'm so glad to be rolling around with this evil
demon in the wet grass with all the stars and the stones and the dead looking
on.
I didn't think he'd be into foreplay, somehow, but his face is buried in my
crotch, and he makes little grunting noises as he laps at my core, dragging...
OH, GOD!... his tongue in and out, up and over, licking and biting and sucking
my clit. His fingers plunge and stretch and all I can see are dark spots in my
vision because I'm breathing too fast, my heart's too fast... too fast... He
forces me to the edge of the abyss over and over again, but Jesus! he won't let
me go over!
My heart thunders... crashes... calls... the hunt... the hunt... the hunt...
Kill me, Great Hunter... devour me. Fuck me. Drink me. Make me yours because I
need you... I need this. I need...
Who is the hunter and who the prey? I don't know anymore because I grab him by
a fistful of that thick, glorious hair and drag him upward to drink my own
juices from his lips and he growls, deep and low, that animal demon sound that
makes me weep with want. He cries out as he drives himself inside me -- so
deep, so... god...damn...deep! He splits me in two. It hurts as he rams himself
home, buried to the hilt in me and I love the way he grunts and growls and the
way his fingers dig so deep into my hips, but it's not enough... It's so good,
it's so hard, so deep, but it's not enough. I throw my head back and offer my
throat, just like that, like that's the way I've always done it. Turn my head
and ram my hips upward, driving his cock as deep as he can possibly go... he
howls and dips his head down and...
The moment shifts to dragging slow motion.. Oh, God, yes... yessssss, Darkness,
you're invited. Come in, come in and meet the inner Slayer. She's been waiting
for you all these years, yesssss...
His breath is so cold on my skin. All the fine hairs on my body stand straight
up and welcome him and God, like a lover, he tenderly kisses my pulse, and like
a beast, he sniffs and tastes with a long pull of his tongue. He pounds into my
body with inhuman speed, bone breaking force, but why is he waiting so long to
take me???
Then it comes. And oh... oh, the wait, the long, long wait is worth it. Those
two tiny shards of exquisite agony that rip through my every nerve as his fangs
push though my neck as if I'm made of butter, not flesh. He bites deep,
penetrates hard, and it's pain... all the pain, all the bliss, all the heat in
the fires of Hell and the cool of the clouds of Heaven and GOD now I'm
screaming, finally flying, and I hear his throat contracting as he swallows and
YES I remember those sounds, the same feeding, grunting, greedy noises that
Angel made when he nursed from my vein, and I came then, came... hard...
just... like... THIS!!!
OH GOD! He drives his cock deeper, faster, he clutches me, he's latched on to
my throat and I can feel my blood draining, pint by pint. I'm so bloated with
that rushing, burning pull, every inch of my muscles and tendons and bone
contracting, shrinking, expanding, on fire, from where he penetrates me to
where he penetrates me, and I come again and again, shouting his true name,
chanting to the demon that drinks the life from my heart and my Darkness
welcomes his Darkness as his cold seed bursts into my womb the way my hot blood
bursts into his mouth, and now I'm bursting and exploding, and he's drinking,
and we're coming and coming and coming and coming and OOOOOOHHHHHHHHH
GOOOODDDDD!
Then, all is silence. All is darkness. But I can still hear my heart
skittering. I can't move... I'm too empty. Too weak. Too full. I'm not dead.
Frozen. Hot. Drained. Sated.
But I can feel. I can feel dull surprise that Angelus tries to rescue my ruined
clothes and cover me, and when he can't, I feel myself wrapped in the cool
leather of his coat. And I can feel so unreal as he scoops me gently up into
his familiar arms and carries me I don't know where, and I don't care because I
love the Darkness... this Darkness. This demon is mine.
Then there are smooth sheets on torn, aching skin. Throbbing, spinning head on
soft pillow, warm comforter tucked in tight, cool hand on clammy brow, gentle,
like a lover. Tenderness.
Darkness loves me, too.
A single kiss, and he is gone. I'm still alive and oh, so full, and I slip into
that sweet shadow of sleep, and I know... I've touched the core. I've met his
center. The Slayer's love affair with Death... The end of my Quest. I would beg
for it someday, Spike said. Spike... the son of my Darkness, my demon. He said
I would want it.
He was right. And tomorrow night, I'll go hunting Death again.
This Darkness, I love.