Temptation
by Philister (Phantasy@ginko.de)
Copyright (c) 2000 Philister.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and associated characters are copyright Joss Whedon and Warner Brothers. No infringement is intended.



 
 
 

All through the day I have waited for her to return. I had to hide in the closet when her mother came in to clean up in her room. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Angelus, the scourge of Europe, hiding in a girl's closet. That is more like something Angel, the mortal, would have done. The idea makes me smile.

She enters the room and calls out my name. Her voice is beautiful, containing none of the emotions normally associated with my name. Anger, hatred, fear, terror. She says my name and hopes that I am here to answer.

I appear from my hiding place and I can hear her heartbeat quickening. Not from fear, but from other feelings. In the twilight of the room she is every bit as beautiful as on the day I first saw her, in the bright light of the sun above the city of angels.

She is glad to see me and I can almost imagine my skin growing warmer. She stands so close that I can actually feel the warmth of her presence, the rush of her blood. Blood.

Hunger. She has brought me something to eat, but it is not the right thing. Only one thing can quiet the hunger burning inside me and she must never find out what that is. She comes even closer and I can smell her sweet scent, mixed with the smell of perfume. If only she knew how good she smells, if only I could tell her. She would never need to wear perfume with me.

I can see the big pulse on her neck, can see it beat beneath her skin. The demon wants her, wants to sink its fangs into that warm, rosy flesh and drink deeply, feel her heartbeat on my tongue as it grows faster and faster, driving the sweet nectar into me and filling me with her warmth.

She comes even closer, embarrassed from that short exchange about her diary. I do not need to read it to know how she feel about me, I can see it in the way she moves when she is close to me, the way her eyes glow when she looks at me. Oh please, Lord, do not take that glow away. Do not let her find out what I am!

We utter meaningless words. The demon chuckles, it reminds me of love scenes in American movies. The woman and the man standing alone in a darkened room, saying things like „We shouldn't", „This is wrong", „You should really leave now", all the while their lips are moving closer and closer.

She kisses me, a shy school girl's kiss, chaste and oh so very sweet. The taste of her, her hands touching my body so hesitantly. She hasn't the least idea of what she is doing, but I don't care. She is here, her lips to mine, the world around us vanishes into the twilight.

I tenderly force her lips to part and my tongue meets hers. She is a quick learner and the chaste school girl kiss turns fiercer, more passionate. My hands move to her face and again I can feel her pulse, it beats against my fingers on her skin.

The hunger comes over me in a wave of crimson and I can feel the muscles move inside my face, the features rearranging themselves to show my true visage to the world. I can't stop it, I have not fed the demon for too long.

I tear myself from her embrace. She must not see it! Better if she thinks I am not interested, better she thinks I am repulsed by her inexperience. Anything is better than her seeing me like this. I bury my face in my hands, try to force it back, try to force the features into their other shape, into the mask of humanity I wear.

She is confused, I can feel it, even afraid, but for all the wrong reasons. I can feel the demon retreating, reluctantly, slowly. Her hand touches my shoulder and I can feel the pulse in her fingertips all the way through the fabric of my shirt.

„Angel!"

She says my name, urgently, and pulls on my shoulder. The demon growls and the sound escapes my lips. I twist around and stare into her eyes. The glow is gone and the only thing left is fear. I see my own reflection in her eyes, the only reflection a Vampire has. I see my own demonic face and it repulses me.

She screams in terror. I flee through the open window, but the look in her eyes stays with me.

#

„I wanted to kill you tonight!" I say. Which is a lie, of course.

She stands a short distance away from me, the crossbow aimed at my heart. She has had the opportunity to kill me, several of them, I gave them to her. I want her to destroy me, for I fear that the temptation she is to me will bring out the demon once more. I fear that I will drink from her, to hell with my conscience.

She drops the crossbow. Why is she doing that? She is to kill me, why does she not kill me? She walks up, close enough to touch her. She offers me her neck. I know that I could sink my fangs into it before she had a chance to resist. Once inside her, no force in heaven or hell could make me let go.

She looks at me expectantly and I inhale the aroma of her skin. The sleek curve of her neck and shoulder looks at me invitingly. So long since I have drunken human blood. Darla is right of course, nothing can compare to it, certainly not the stale and cold cow blood I have in my fridge.

I see Darla appear behind the Slayer and the look she gives me is unmistakable. Either I kill her or she will. I look at Buffy again, that wonderful warm skin, the almost tangible rush of the blood inside her. She opens her mouth to say something and suddenly my body decides for me.

My fangs sink into her skin and the sensation drowns out the loud gasp escaping from her lips. I feel her whole body tense, desperate strength building up with no place to go. My hands capture her tiny wrists in an iron grip as the feel of drinking again after so long a time overwhelms me.

Her blood flows into me like a heat wave, the frantic beating of her heart vibrating along the length of my body, pumping her life into me. Her knees give out and we topple to the floor, I am riding her body, her life, her heat. I fell the tension in her arms fade as she loses her strength, her life, loses it to me.

The flow of blood begins to ebb as her heartbeat becomes an almost continuos hum, trying  desperately to pump what blood remains into all the parts of her body at once. There is nothing quite like the feel of a life fading away as you drink it in.

I finally let go and the lifeless body of the Slayer remains still. The afterglow of drinking her manages to overshadow the searing pain as I realize what I have just done. A hundred years, only to drink from the girl I loved.

Darla laughs and I slowly raise my head to look at her.

„Satisfied?" I ask her, my voice sounding as broken as I feel.

„Not quite." she says, drawing a finger across her chest. I recognize the gesture, recognize it from a night 240 years earlier. I look down at the pale form at my feet and feel myself grow cold. Why not? Why the hell not? I kneel and down and use a fingernail to slice my wrist.

The first few drops of blood simply drip into her parted lips. As I see her throat convulse in the first involuntary movement of swallowing I move my wrist to her lips. Moments later she clings to it with desperate strength, sucking and swallowing as fast as she can. I remember the glorious feeling of siring a Childe and never did it feel better than tonight.

The mindless creature, not longer human, not yet a Vampire, lets go of my wrist and falls into deathlike slumber. Soon she will awaken, every bit the monster I am. Darla's cold hand touches me.

„Welcome home, my Childe!"

THE END

Back to Buffy/Angel   Back to Author Page   Back to Main page