SCRIBES OF ANGEL
Fan Fiction
________________________________
Whatever It Takes
Author:
Dark Star
Email:
eternity_ds@hotmail.com
Website:
www.soangeluk.50g.com
Summary:
You do what you have to do.
Disclaimer:
Joss Whedon is creator and owner of all
things Angel
Timeline:
Angel's Season 3
Rating:
Adult (NC 17)
Warning:
A dark story, this
Notes:
I hadn’t seen Buffy’s Season 6 when I wrote this, and so it’s based on rumour
and hearsay.
Distribution:
Just ask, please
The double doors of the Hyperion swung silently open, and Angel started toward them in anticipation. Buffy came cautiously through them, a small bag clutched in her hand. She looked tired and pale, and she gave Angel a wan smile.
“Here.” Angel said, taking the bag from her hand and ushering her down the steps. “There’s coffee,” he announced as he put her bag down beside the table. “You look like you could use one.”
“Thanks.” She smiled gratefully, and sank gently into one of the stuffed armchairs. Angel was struck by how fragile she looked, and he wondered what had brought her all the way to LA.
Buffy accepted the coffee, cupping the hot drink in both hands, as if she could derive some comfort from its transient heat.
They talked about Sunnydale, their work, and mutual friends; everything except the real reason for Buffy’s visit. Angel knew she was evading the subject, and he guessed it was something distasteful to her.
When the coffee was gone, Buffy pushed the empty mug across the table and stood up. Angel watched her dispassionately. She wandered across the floor and stopped. She squared her shoulders and turned back, apparently having made her decision.
“I need…” She started, and changed her mind. She took a deep breath, and said, “I want you to hurt me.”
“Haven’t I hurt you enough?” He shot back. Whatever he’d expected Buffy to say, it wasn’t that.
“That’s not what I mean.” Buffy said, clearly struggling with her explanation. “Angel, ever since I’ve been back, I’ve been… different.”
“In what way?” He frowned, moving toward her.
“Everything’s wrong. I’m wrong.” She gave a thin smile. “I feel so empty. And I really want to feel, Angel.”
“Through pain?” He said incredulously.
“Yes.”
“So why come to me?” He asked, keeping his expression carefully neutral.
“Because...” Buffy hesitated, then decided to plunge right in. “Because you’re good at it. Because I know you can do it without any permanent damage. And because… you’d probably enjoy it.”
“I do not enjoy hurting you.” He vehemently protested.
Buffy caught his gaze.
“I’m not a child any more Angel. And I know more about vampires than I used to. I know they like pain. Having a soul doesn’t change that.”
Angel shook his head. “I don’t accept this, Buffy. There must be another way. Therapy, maybe.”
“Oh, right.” Buffy laughed. “And what am I going to tell them? That I’m the Slayer? That I died and came back different?”
“There are ways…”
“It’s not what I need!” Buffy spat out, turning away. “And if you won’t help me, I’ll find some one who will.”
Angel caught her shoulder and spun her back.
“Is it what you need?” He snapped. He stepped closer, twisting her arm behind her. “Is it really what you want?”
Her eyes locked on his, and he saw something dark skitter behind them. He knew then that she spoke the truth, and it provoked the darkness within him. He yanked her arm higher, knowing exactly how far he could force it before it snapped in two, and kissed her. It wasn’t a romantic kiss; it was as bruising and brutal as he could make it.
Buffy whimpered, responding to him with a desperation he’d never felt in her before. Her free hand clawed at him, squirming sinuously against his body and inevitably arousing his lust.
Angel released her arm, and grabbing her shoulders with both hands, he threw her unceremoniously onto the couch, and heard a soft thud as her elbow hit one of the wooden supports.
He followed her down, hitching up her skirt with one hand, and undoing his pants with the other. Buffy welcomed him, wriggling in anticipation as Angel hooked a finger under the elastic of her panties, tugged the thin fabric aside, and slammed inside her.
Buffy moaned, wrapping her legs tightly round his waist. Angel grabbed hold of her hands, pulled them up, and pinned them to the seat cushions. He recaptured her mouth in an abusive echo of his earlier kiss.
Buffy came violently, arching up towards him, and she bit down on his lip so hard that she drew blood. Angel’s self control fractured, and the demon raced unchecked through his body as the change came.
Buffy felt him change, felt the power surge through him as he gripped her hands tighter, and his movement inside her became more aggressive and violent. Buffy felt a little thrill of fear as his teeth changed, growing longer and sharper, and realised what would happen to her. But she’d asked Angel for this, and she refused to pull away as his fangs split her lip and tore at the delicate flesh of her tongue.
Buffy had her second explosive orgasm, and the wild pulsing of her strong muscles swept Angel along with her.
When it was done, Angel let his features return to normal and pulled away from her, standing up to straighten his clothes. He hadn’t intended to hurt her quite as much as he had, and he felt guilty that Buffy had come to him for safety - and the first thing he’d done was lose control. He watched as Buffy rearranged her skirt and smoothed down her hair. He winced when she looked up at him, and he could clearly see the abrasions on her lips and know that he was responsible for them. The apology got as far as his lips before he stopped it. She wouldn’t want him to say he was sorry, not for this; it would only make her feel worse.
“Are you okay?”
Buffy shrugged. “I heal fast.” She gave a wry smile. “I said you’d enjoy it.”
Angel resisted the urge to throw the statement back at her, the memory of her cries as she came still ringing in his ears. Instead, he said carefully, “We need to talk about this, Buffy.”
Buffy nodded sadly. “I know.”
Angel sat down on the couch with her, wrapping an arm round her shoulders as she instinctively leant against his shoulder. Angel waited silently for Buffy to speak, but she lay quiet and motionless against him. He glanced at her, and was disturbed by the shame apparent in her demeanour. He understood her distress only too well. He knew from personal experience what it was like to struggle with unwanted and illicit desires. To want something yet be disgusted by it.
“What is it that you want me to do?” He asked gently.
“That’s up to you.” Buffy countered. “Whatever you want.”
“I don’t want to hurt you at all.” He reminded her.
“Yeah.” Buffy said dryly. “I noticed that.”
Angel sighed. “I’ll do anything you need, Buffy.”
“You’ll help me, then?” She said hopefully.
“Yeah.”
“No one must know about his, Angel. If the others find out…”
Angel gave a slight nod. “Agreed.”
Buffy seemed to sag a little in his embrace, and she looked pleased that he had agreed to do what she wanted. But there was vulnerability about her that Angel wasn’t used to. He leant in, brushing her lips with his, a butterfly touch against the damaged skin. Buffy curled her fingers in his hair, halting his retreat, and melted into his kiss.
The kiss was a fragile touch of skin on skin, a tentative meeting of tongues, a hesitant expression of love. They both knew that their relationship had changed, and crossed a boundary from where there was no going back.
Angel drew back when he tasted salt in the kiss, and he saw the tears streaming down her face. He pulled her against his chest and let her cry.
“We’ll work this out.” He promised, rubbing a soothing hand across her back. He nuzzled in her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Whatever it takes.”
The End