The Scarlet Letter

Xander waited.

It was several hours after he'd been released from the hospital. Xander sat alone in his room and listened while Patsy Cline's melancholy voice crooned to him from his stereo speakers. He'd selected the "music of pain" for tonight's listening pleasure, because he wasn't sure which of his albums fell into the "music of upset stomach" category.

Earlier his mom had tried to push chicken soup and apple juice down his throat, babying him like she used to when he was little. On any other night, he would have appreciated this rare display of maternal instinct, but his queasy stomach wanted nothing to do with comfort food. He'd told her he wanted to go to bed early, and shut himself inside his room.

Willow had called him fifteen minutes ago to let him know they would be having a Scooby meeting, and now he was waiting for his ride to show up. He was jittery as he scanned the darkened street.

/Is he out there? Is he waiting for me somewhere?/

Xander clutched the large wooden cross in his hand, and patted his jacket pocket to make sure the small bottle of holy water was still tucked inside, next to his stake. He felt a little safer knowing he had his mini-arsenal of anti-vampire weapons. Not much, but a little.

/He's not going to get me this time./

He swallowed uncomfortably, his mild case of heartburn and nausea still gnawing at him. He took a couple of antacid tablets to get rid of it, and scratched at his chest again. Nerves. That's all it was.

He heard the distinctive rumble of a Volkswagen van approaching the house. He looked out his window and immediately recognized Oz's zebra-striped vehicle. After making a Xander-shaped mound in his bed with pillows and dirty clothes, he slid open his window and crept outside.

Oz kept the motor running as Xander ran up to the van. The spiky-haired boy greeted him with a succinct "hey" as he unlocked the door. Xander clambered inside.

"Hey. Where's Willow?" Xander asked, not used to seeing Oz in a girlfriendless state.

"She and Buffy are speaking the language of love." Oz switched gears and drove towards the high school. The remark set off Xander's innuendo radar, and he raised his eyebrows.

"French. Studying at the library for their French test tomorrow," clarified Oz with a tiny smile on his lips.

"Oh."

/Darn. A sexy little lesbian fantasy would be just the trick to help me keep my mind off of my Dead Boy phobia./

Xander tried to settle into the car seat, but felt something poking him. He felt underneath him until he found a plastic CD case stuck in the crevice of the car seat.

/Blue Oyster Cult. "Don't fear the reaper." Ha, freaking ha./

He sighed and tossed the CD case in the back of the van, which was littered with other CD cases, guitar picks, empty water bottles, heavy iron manacles, and other Oz-related clutter.

Oz's nose twitched. He gripped the steering wheel and slowed the van down a little. His nostrils flared as he inhaled, drawing in a slow, deep breath.

"What? What is it, Lassie? Is Timmy in trouble?" asked Xander. He knew that even when Oz wasn't hairy and toothy, he still possessed a keen, werewolf-enhanced sense of smell. Xander tensed and looked out the windows, searching for what made Oz's doggie sense tingle.

As he scanned the horizon nervously, his stomach churned, and he could taste bile in his throat. His heartburn felt even worse, and the nagging itch on his chest flared up again. His heart rate increased along with his discomfort. "Shit...is it Dead Boy? Is he nearby?"

"No...it's..." Oz glanced over at Xander. "You smell...different."

"What?" Xander smelled his clothes and under his armpits. "Do I have B.O.? Are you sure? I just took a shower..."

Oz's normally stoic face betrayed a hint of confusion. "No, man. Different. Good. Like bacon double cheeseburger good." He turned the van around the corner, and they approached the Sunnydale High School parking lot.

"Good? Smelling like a hamburge goo good? Are you sure it's not that time of the month, pal? I mean, last I checked, the full moon wasn't gonna be out until next week." After being bitten by a vampire, Xander was very apprehensive about being compared to food. He pressed himself against the car door to keep an acceptable minimum distance between himself and the werewolf.

Oz brought the van to a stop outside the rear library door. The two young men kept a wary eye on each other as they climbed out of the van. "I'm not kidding, Xander. You've changed. You don't smell, um...human anymore."

"That's because he's not." Oz and Xander were both startled by the voice, followed by a loud thump as something heavy jumped from the roof of the building onto the top of the van. They looked up and saw Angelus standing above them.

"Run," yelled Xander as he stumbled backwards. The van stood between him and the entrance to the school, meaning his most direct escape route was blocked. With a trembling hand, he lifted the cross in front of him. "Get Buffy!" Oz darted towards the library as Angelus leapt from the van to the ground, his dr bir billowing in the air like a cape.

/I knew this would happen...Oh God, oh God.../

Angelus walked forward and leaned against a lamppost, his arms crossed, looking as casual as a man waiting for the bus. "Hello, Xander. Long time no see."

"Damn it, what did you do to me? W-what do you mean I'm not human anymore?" demanded Xander, unable to prevent a tremor in his voice. He held up the cross, and backed slowly away from the vampire. His heartburn had kicked into overdrive, and his chest really did feel like it was on fire. The tattoo was itching like crazy, and he scrabbled at his chest with his free hand.

"You don't look so good. Feeling okay? Anything I can do to help?" asked the vampire, a faux look of concern on his face. In long, confident strides, he made his way towards Xander.

"Stay away from me!" Xander clutched his chest and tried to will the intense burning sensation away. His whole body shook, and the cross wavered in front of him as Angelus continued his approach. Xander's common sense screamed at him to get the hell out of Dodge, but his body refused to get up on the horse. He remained rooted in place, powerless to leave.

/I need...I need something.../

"Buffy! Help! We got us a vampire in dire need of slayage, twelve o'clock!" he shouted. The broken VCR containing his memories suddenly whirred into motion and started its video playback. Xander didn't like how this movie was going. He remembered a fist slamming into his face...the taste of blood on his lips...Angelus straddling his hips.

/"She can't help you now. No one can."/

"I only want to help you, Xander. You need me. C'mon, put down the cross, and I'll make you feel a whole lot better, I promise." Angelus was only a few feet away now, so close, if Xander reached out, he could almost touch him...

/Do as he says...let him take what he wants.../

He quickly cast that traitorous thought aside. "No way! Don't...don't come any closer," begged Xander as his knees buckled beneath him. The cross in his hand felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, and he dropped it.

He knelt on the ground, wracked with violent tremors as hot magma coursed through his veins. His body temperature was so intense; he thought his shirt was going to burst into flames. "What did you do to me, you son of a bitch? What am I?" he croaked.

"You're my pomme de sang." The strange words that rolled off Angelus' laughing tongue were completely meaningless to Xander, and yet the vampire spoke them as if they explained everything, like the punch line to a joke he found extremely amusing.

Angelus dragged Xander to his feet, and shifted to his vampire face. Xander scrabbled inside his jacket and pulled out the wooden stake, but the vampire snapped his wrist and the weapon tumbled to the ground.

"Aargh!" Xander cried out as Angelus wrapped himself around his prey. "Stop it...unh...burning up!" Delirious from the heat, he struggled feebly against Angelus and the irrational desire to surrender, to let the vampire drain his fiery blood and relieve him of his torment.

He moaned after the buttons of his shirt were undone, and enticingly cool fingers grazed the hot furnace of his chest, shredding the sweat-soaked t-shirt as if it were wet newspaper. "Please..."

"You want me to touch you, don't you?" whispered Angelus, his lips floating ghost-like over Xander's trembling throat. "Me. You need me, don't you?"

/He's causing the pain...he's trying to prove something...show that he owns me!/

Shaking and sweating profusely, torn between craving and abhorring Angel's cool skin against him, Xander groaned "fuck you" in a heavy, panting breath with all the defiance he could muster. Little black dots swam before his eyes, and his breaths were quick and irregular. It was all Xander could do to stay above the pain and keep from passing out.

"Already did." Angelus smiled, his slick glistening fangs piercing Xander's neck just as he pressed his icy hand over the tattoo. Bright red light radiated through pale fingers. Xander froze, unable to breathe and consumed by an explosive supernova of sensation. He was embarrassed to realize that the closest thing he could compare the experience to was an orgasm, but instead of his seed, he could feel his life essence erupting from his throat in a powerful, superheated rush.

At first, it was agony...the boiling blood scalded him as it coursed through his veins, and the loud, hungry, suckling moans assaulted his ears, an infuriating reminder that the vampire received pleasure as well as sustenance from the act. But the strong suction drew the liquid fire out of him, which also gave him the curious sense of...release. The fire had burned out. The glow dimmed as the vampire gorged himself on Xander's blood, but not before the light illuminated the dark shadows in his mind and allowed him to see everything with perfect clarity. He understood.

/Pomme de sang. That's the curse...let him take my blood, or suffer the pain. The tattoo binds me to him, gives him power over me...forces me to.../

Angelus withdrew his fangs, sated, and slid his blood-smeared lips up Xander's throat and chin to claim his mouth in a triumphant kiss...

And he remembered.

He remembered everything.

===== CONTINUED IN PART 4 =====