I'll Never Love You

Title: I’LL NEVER LOVE YOU




CHAPTER 1: Strange Bed




I was feeling pretty guilty that night, it was my turn to wolf-sit Oz and I weaseled. Not that I wanted to slack off and make Willow pull watch two nights in a row, I knew she had a major test to study for, but I really didn’t think I could stay up the whole night. I mean wouldn’t that be worse than bailing? Falling asleep then something happens? Wouldn’t it be better to just take myself out of the equation?

Yeah, okay… major rationalization.

Anyway, I told Willow my folks were getting on me about staying out late so much. A lie I thought doomed to failure considering how much Willow knew about the Harris Household. But she believed me.

Of course I could’ve admitted to being too tired, but manly such admissions are not. So I just split and left her in the Library with a snarling werewolf and a tranquilizer gun as her only friend. Maybe Cordy was rubbing off on me (Oooo, dirty thoughts), as cold as that was.

On my way home I decided to find Buffy just to say Hi. I thought she might be lonely. That’s what led me into the woods near one of Sunnydale’s three *thousand* cemeteries. That or regret. You know—the whole Angel thing?

I’ll never admit to the regret though.

My shoes rustled dry autumn leaves as I walked unhurriedly through the woods. Pushing past sharp tooth thickets before they could do any damage to my face or my clothes. The air’s cooler inside the dense foliage and it’s darker here, too, than out in the urban areas of Sunnydale. I wasn’t worried; I had a stake in my back pocket, and a crucifix inside my jacket. Add my astonishing vampire killing skills with a nearby Buffy and I was safer than most.

And it would have stayed that way if I hadn’t hesitated for one fraction of a second.

A twig snapped behind me or in front of me—or some damn place—and I had my cross out like a gunslinger. I didn’t run. That would have been dumbest move ever, considering I had no idea where the baddies were.

So I stood my ground in the middle of a small clearing no bigger than a walk-in closet, clutching the wooden cross in my left hand.

I listened for more twigs being broken underfoot. And, gee, there were. No doubt about it, someone was definitely in the woods with me. They were running, stopping, circling me like a shark.

I began walking backwards away from where I last heard movement, holding the crucifix close to my chest. I lost count of how many times I had one knocked out of my hands because I had it thrust out all willy-nilly. I could feel my chest palpitating against my fist and I was sure, vampire or not, whoever was out there could hear my heart pounding a thousand rim shots in rapid secession.

As soon as I felt it safe to run that’s what I did.

I got about ten feet before I collided with another running form. The cross went flying to parts unknown, never to be seen again. My only saving grace was that I managed to arm myself with the stake before I hit the ground.

Now, I could have done so many things before the dark figure jumped me:

First, I could have jabbed the stake up into his heart. Done it a hundred times before, works like a charm. Or I could have rolled out of the way and ran for it. I probably wouldn’t have gotten far, but it might have bought me enough time to find Buffy. Or I could have shouted for said Slayer, or a combination of two and three.

But when I got a glimpse of who it was that knocked me down I froze. My mouth hung open in some slack-minded way with the impossibility of what I was seeing. It was Angel.

A naked from the waist up, blood smeared, Angel.

And the most intelligible thing I could utter before this unbelievable sight fell upon me was:
"Owroh?"

With a savage kick from his bare right foot Angel sent the stake flying out of my hand. I was staring at my empty palm, confused, and next thing I know Angel's lying full on top of me, snarling in my face. Instinctively, I fought back and managed to hit him with a right cross before he captured my wrists. I tried to wrench my arms free but Angel’s grip was like iron as he forced my hands to the ground on either side of my head like it was nothing. God, I hate vampires and their preternatural strength!

Everything was going a hundred miles per hour after he sprawled himself on me. And my thoughts were all a jumble with panic and confusion, until I heard that sound. That gross crackling sound vampires make when they’re shifting to their game faces.

Suddenly, everything is crystal clear and I’m looking up at a face full of fang and misshapen features.

I think to scream, but it’s too late.

Angel reared back his head then whipped his neck forward, burying his mouth between my jaw-line and collarbone. The pain was only searing for a few seconds before the sinew and tendons around the bite radius went mostly numb. Except for the cold, wet sensation of Angel’s sucking mouth on my neck as he drained me.

It’s amazing how fast my blood left me. And how little sucking Angel had to do. My heart did most of the work, fearfully pumping out its burden into the vampire’s waiting gullet.

Angel increased suction on my neck as my blood pressure waned and his growls subsided to rumbling purrs. His throat undulating noisily while he swallowed what my heart offered. My fists uncurled when I finally stopped straining uselessly against Angel’s grip. I felt woozy, kind sleepy. I wanted to yawn.

I’m really gonna have to have a long talk with Buffy about her definition of "I sent him to Hell".




When my eyes opened next an unfamiliar ceiling glowed above me, and a really soft pillow was under my head. A heavy blanket covered me up to my neck. I had a sense that my clothes were still on but my shoes and socks were definitely gone.

I stared at the milky white ceiling for a long time. Taking in the rest of my mysterious surroundings with my other senses. The dusty air held the scent of burning wood, which explained the golden orange shimmer above. And a cavernous sort of quiet filled the room. I can’t hear the fire that must be burning.

When I turned my head on the pillow to see more of the room that’s when I felt the dull, stiff ache in my neck.

I was bitten.

And it all comes back to me.

"Angel," I called out weakly. My throat was dry, turning what was supposed to be a bellow of rage into an ineffectual croak.

Seconds later, Angel’s in sight with that idiotic ‘I feel so guilty, please forgive me’ expression on his face. I wanted to glare at him, I think I was trying to, but I could sense that the muscles in my face were slack. I doubt I was even glaring at him I felt so weak.

"Xander."

"You sonofabitch," I croaked at him, not nearly as vehemently as I would have liked.

He flinched. I guess with that vampire super hearing of his my voice sounded stronger than it was. Good.

Now if I could only manage a few more choice words to overload his keen ears I’d be a happy guy…

I noticed Angel had on a shirt and the blood that had been smeared around his mouth when I found him was gone. He even combed his hair, which is to say he just went crazy with the styling gel.

"I’m sorry… I… Xander…"

"Sssaaay-vah…" I was trying to tell him to save it, but my voice faltered and trickled off into a hoarse whisper. I swallowed dryly a couple of times then said, "When I get my voice back you’re going to get such a tongue lashing, pal!" I croaked out.

Angel blinked at me and his eyebrows climbed up his forehead. Realizing what I’d said I closed my eyes. That didn’t come out the way I intended. "You know what I mean, Dead boy."

When I opened them again Angel was sitting on the edge of the bed beside me. He must have been hovering because his weight barely registered on the mattress. I held his remorseful gaze with my hopefully reproachful one, and swallowed again.

"Why did you stop?"

Angel’s eyes didn’t stray and then he said with all seriousness, "I… I was full."

I stared at him blankly for a few beats, then folded my lower lip over my bottom teeth and bit down, hard. My eyes welled up with tears and I had to look away from him. I began laughing.

I was laughing so hard those tears spilled from my eyes in hot streams, and my throat burned in protest.

"Xander, are you okay?" Angel asked his deep voice became higher with concern. To him it must have looked like I was choking or something.

He left me alone on the bed, the bed in his mansion I suppose, and when he came back I’d quit laughing and was merely chuckling.

He’d brought me a glass of water but I was still too weak to hold the glass myself and he had to slide a hand under my head and lift my mouth up to the glass. I drank slowly, the lukewarm liquid relieving the raw irritation in my throat. When I was finished I almost told him thank you.

Almost.

I wasn’t that lightheaded after all.

Angel laid my head down onto the pillow and pulled the blanket back over me.

"Do you want me to get Willow? Or… Buffy?" Angel asked me, his voice faltering on Buffy’s name.

I shook my head. “No. I’d kinda like to be there when Buffy sticks you with Mr. Pointy," I said off-handedly, looking at the ceiling through half closed eyelids.

Angel stood up and walked away from the bed out of my line of sight. My eyelids insisted on falling as drowsiness made demands on my consciousness. I was in the middle of a sigh when Angel spoke up from where ever he was in the room.

"So… you’re going to tell her about this?"

"You kid’ing? You *ate* me! Sure I’ma tel’. Fine lee prove wha’ a vampire ya are…"




I heard his heart slow down. He was asleep. It would be so easy to see that he never opens his eyes again, I thought before I could suppress the unworthy notion. Feeling not just a little sickened with myself I kept my back to Xander’s prone form, and tried to smother the violence I felt trying to claw its way out of me.

Xander had every right to be angry. I fed from him in a fit of bestial frenzy. I very easily could have drained the kid dry. It’s a wonder he didn’t die from the amount of blood I’d taken from him. By all rights he should be dead, I’m not even sure how he was able to regain consciousness so soon after the attack.

At any rate, I was sorry for what I’d done to him. I really was, but I was also grateful that it was just Xander I hurt. I’d long ago given up trying to work out some kind of truce with him so we weren’t even remotely friends.

If it had been anyone else, say Buffy or Willow, hell, even Giles I drank, I’d be miserable. I don’t think I could stand harming someone who actually trusted me—the real me—not to hurt them the first chance I got. Xander never trusted me. And oddly enough feeding from him probably hadn’t hardened his opinion of me. I don’t think his loathing could reach any greater depths…

A warm hand runs down my back. I whirled about and grabbed the hand and twisted it away from my body.

"Xander!" I exclaimed, startled by the flirty smile stretched across his face. He wasn’t reacting to the pain I knew he had to be experiencing in his contorted wrist.

"Xander’s not home," a woman’s voice proclaimed through Xander’s lips.

"What the Hell-ah…" I shuddered when I felt something warm caress my neck. It was like someone with incredibly hot breath pressed their open mouth over the back of my neck. The inflamed breath went through my skin and slithered its way up into my brain.

"Angel go bye-bye, too," the not Xander’s voice says before I disappear.