The tale to the noir

3. I only have eyes for you

Angelus. He had to be her priority now. The moment of their meeting was approaching and suddenly all the power she felt running through her veins in those few exalting days was giving the floor to a cold and obscure fear; a sort of presentiment which took her breath away…
The Scourge of Europe. She read all about this powerful and ancient vampire in Giles’ book; dates, places, the staggering and amazing amount of his victims…but it didn’t seem enough. Buffy wanted more. She wanted the essence, not only meagre data. She had just learned directly that a vampire was more than a legend, much more that a paper image described in a dusty tome. Despite the fact that he was dead, a vampire was made of flesh and blood, he was a solid and unpredictable body.
She waited that Giles went away from the library with Miss Calendar -she was taking his arm with confidence and their shoulders were so closed- and then she went in his private office. Maybe she would have found what she was searching for in there…
She shifted through the folders and the records and, finally, when she was nearly to surrender, there it…
A…
A creased and yellowed photographic reproduction of the only existing portrait of Angelus painted around 1850 and reached by the Council at the beginning of nineteen Century; it had been destroyed during the Second World War.
Forgetful of everything, Buffy sat on the floor, her legs crossed, the photo in her hands. Oh, well…
He didn’t look like exactly as she imagined him…Ok, in the chronicles of the period he was called as the one with the angelic face, but she had never considered that…Oh.
How was that story?
Oh, yeah…the story of Lucifer, the most beautiful angel, the rebel one who become the Lord of the darkness…and seeing the portrait of that young, dark-haired and elegant man, everyone thought spontaneously at him, Lucifer.
His mouth...it seemed it was there to be kissed, bitten, felt and tasted…Oh. And his eyes…of a vivid and three-dimensional black, made to fall deep into them, drowning in them without making any kind of resistance…Oh, well…
Buffy got excited. A strange and untimely heat was rising through her lower abdomen, giving her a titillating fever through all her body…
Hey! Wait a moment! Calm down! What was happening?
She stood up and she dashed off the photo in her bag, then she unlocked the office, making sure of having put everything in its own place. It’s all Spike’s fault, she thought walking through the school’s corridors with the clear and annoying feeling of been luminous as a neon. Yeah, his fault. These new things he taught to her…and now a photo of a guy was enough to make her feel like that!
When she went outside, under the warm, pale sun of late afternoon, Buffy felt better, the ideas cleared up. Ok, it seemed that this Angelus was more attractive than she thought, but he was still a dangerous demon, a bastard, a monster she had to kill. And her crazy hormones will surellm dlm down with a tisane and some good rest.
Sure!
“You know, they’ve finally rented the house next to us!” said her mother while she was taking off her jacket. “I’ve seen they were carrying the furniture inside…interesting pieces…excellent design, probably European…” Joyce blew in her coffee. “Strange to see that kind of furniture in a neighbourhood like ours…”
Than she realized her daughter’s preoccupied expression and she forgot the neighbours. “Everything’s all right, sweetheart?”
“Just a little headache”, Buffy said smiling. “Tomorrow I’ve a dreadful class test…I was thinking about get ready and go to bed early, if you don’t mind…”
Joyce smiled too, softened. Her little girl had become so good…after all that problems and worries that was a real relief.
“But of coudarldarling…and Xander? He doesn’t come tonight?”
She hesitated a bit. “Well, Xander and me…”
“Oh, you argued…I see” Joyce laughed. “You’ll see it’s nothing. At your age everything seems so insuperable…if you knew how things use to get more complicated after…”
Oh, mom, if you only knew how my life is complicated now, Buffy told herself, going up to her bedroom. She threw her bag away, trying to not thinking about the photo inside. No slay that night…she only wanted to sleep. To rest. A perfect oblivion. She worn the largest and more comfortable pyjama she had, and she snuggled down under the blankets,ing ing a foetal position, feeling totally, incredibly tired…
She fell immediately asleep. She felt she was sliding down a hill, into a quiet and calm water…
Everything shook…
…shook…
…hips which were moving…
…much more, more and more deep inside…
…again…
…tell me you want me…
…Spike’s voice, in her ears…
…oh, yeah…Spike…she wanted him…yes…
…tell me you’re mine…
…oh, of course it could be only his voice…
…tell me you’re mine…
…Spike? No, that voice…that voice was different…
…a voice which came from thght,ght, a voice made of wind and darkness…
…tell me you’re mine…
…a voice made of warm and liquid gloom…
…another body, strong, vigorous, mighty pushes into her…
…she had to turn; she had to look at him…
…tell me you want me…
A cry died against the pillow and she bit the sheets due to the violence of her orgasm.
Shocked, she stood up in bed; a battlefield of tangled sheets. She was completely sweaty, her panties were wet. God, what a dream…
But was it a dream?
Her muscles stiffened, on the alert. Her room was empty, the window closed. But…it was like someone had been there, closed to her, until a few seconds before…someone who smelled of musk and another undefined pungent fragrance…Oh.


Buffy melted distantly her cereals in the pink porcelain cup. The sun shone, anticipating a spring morning, and everything that happened the night before seemed even trivial…but of course. A mere erotic dream: it happened to all teenage people, didn’t it?
“I don’t think it’s fair” mumbled Joyce, looking at her suitcases in the doorway with a gloomy expression. “Tomorrow you turn seventeen and the gallery sends me to Los Angeles…”
“We’ve already talked ‘bout that” Buffy reassured her. “And you’ve promised me an unrestrained shopping day for next Saturday…I’ll take my great vengeance!”
Her mom laughed. “All right. But tomorrow I’ll commit myself to be back here for dinner and I’ll bring a cake…”
Buffy let her talk. Seventeen…she had almost ot tot that, with all the things that…and what was that?
She noticed it only at that moment, on a kitchen’s shelf: a small dark wooden case, perfectly embroidered. “Mom…where is it from?”
“Oh, it’s marvellous, isn’t it?” Joyce said. “It’s a present from our new neighbour. He came yesterday evening to introduce himself and to take a coffee. He’s such an attractive young man...and he’s kind. Very acculturate. He was so sad you were already in bed…”
The cereals stuck in Buffyouthouth, refusing to move. She had to hurry and drink a bit of milk to don’t choke. “An attractive young man?”
“Hey! Not so young you little girl!” Joyce scolded her. “He should be at least ten years older than you…in any case you’ll have other occasions to meet. I told him he’ll always be welcome”.
Buffy could only clutch the spoon. No…it couldn’t be…Or it could?
“And what’s this bloke’s name?”
“…Mhm…O’Connor. Liam O’Connor. He’s an Irishman I guess. Oh, there’s my taxioyceoyce took the two suitcases and blew her a kiss. “I must hurry love! I’ll call you!”
“Bye” Buffy whispered, still sitting at the table, the spoon pointed to the high like a question mark. C’mon Summers, what do you know ‘bout Angelus? What have you read ‘bout him?
No one knew the year he became a vampire, neither anything about the place, nor about his former human identity. No one who had survived from him was ever so close to him to understand his accent. He was enfolded in the purest and most obscure mystery. The only thing she knew for sure was that The Scourge of Europe was not used to show mercy towards nothing and nobody.
A hesitating, but brave, sight of relief relaxed her breast. Yep, Angelus was like that…and really such a powerful vampire would have wasted his time bringing little presents to her mom to enter in her house? And he would have rented a humble villa in the suburbs, under everyone’s eyes, just to hunt her?
No, monsters like him and William The Bloody didn’t behave like that, dt tht they?
And, besides that, Spike had promised to call her when Angelus would have been in town…right?
Buffy nodded to herself and continued to eat her cereals. That O’Connor should simply be one of that scrawny and nicely guys all moms were fond with. Just that.
She still had time. All the time she needed to prepare herself to that fight.


Above her the laces of the canopied bed wove a secret starry sky, with nameless stars to discover…Drusilla, laid among the pillows, was moving her fine and pale hand like in a dance, spying their movements. She felt he was lying next to her and her pearly face became bright.
“I was dreaming and my dreams were talking to me…” she whispered, brushing his lips with her fingers.
Angelus took one of her dark black locks and smiled to her with one of his sweetest smiles which he kept for her only. “And what were they saying, my love?”
Drusilla squatted against his chest. “That you’ll give me the black medicine and you’ll make me feel better”. He kissed her on a temple and a soft sleepiness overcame her.
“Shhh…Yeah, you’ll feel better. You’ll shine in the night, I promise you…” he whispered in her ears, but she was already asleep.
“She’s getting more and more week…” sighted Spike, nervously lighting up a cigarette.
“We’re almost done. The moon will be full in four days.” Angelus went down from the bed. “Everything ready?”
Spike exhaled the smoke, looking to his grandsire. As usual, he couldn’t avoid himself to look at him. Angelus was surely the most dreadfully beautiful thing darkness and evil had ever generated and for a long - maybe longlong- time he aimed to a piece, a miserable surrogate of that gloomy perfection. He used to. Now it was over. Perhaps.
“Yeah, everything’s all right. We have the Manuscript and the Cross of du Lac. And you.”
“…mhm…you’ll s the the knife inside the cross…in my heart?” asked Angelus, waiting for a bit in front of Drusilla’s puppets. That day almost all of them were blindfolded and turned over.
Spike shrugged his shoulders. “No, if you don’t want to…we only need a bit of your blood after all; we don’t need to eviscerate you…”
Angelus smirked. “What a pity, uh?”
The two vampires laughed softly, to don’t disturb Drusilla’s sleep and they went in another room of the old factory.
“Call the Slayer. Tell her that I’m here. Better if we obs the the plan.”
“What?” Spike put out the cigarette under a Doc Martens. “I thought that…”
“That she was aware that I live next to her?” Angelus’ white teeth shone in the half-light. “It could be, but she is not so smart, isn’t she?” He shook his dark haired head. “Gosh, the Council is no more able to teach to its slayers and watchers…all her powers are still asleep, useless…”
“She moves quite well on the contrary…” Spike objected, repenting immediately. When had he learned to shut up?
Angelus’ dark eyes looked daggers for a while, sly. “I could imagine …But a Chosen one, one with a capital “c” must be able to do more. Yesterday evening she had to notice that her mother was sitting in the lounge with a vampire, but…”
“I hope you didn’t eat her mother…”
“No. On the contrary I drank her dreadful coffee listening to her foolish words…you couldn’t imagine how many commonplaces an American can say about art…” Angelus quivered, and then he looked at Spike again. “You should have trained a lot that little girl…”
“Don’t understand.”
“Oh, you know, she came only smelling my scent…”
Spike swallowed. “Really? I had to use a bit more than my scent to let her come…”
Angelus laughed of that typical childish laugh which had worn out also a stone. He gave him a hit on the back. “Someone can and someone cannot Spikey…” He approached, taking his chin. “Hey, why this sad little face? Are you jealous?”
Spike wriggled. “Jealous? Of ttoo too tight little slut?” He tidied up his leather coat, signing the room next door with his blonde head. “I’ve had fun, but I’ve most serious things to think about. For what it concerns me, you can do all that you want with little Slutty.”
Angelus nodded arching an eyebrow, and he came through the exit. While he moved it seemed that his long black coat was capturing little parts of the night, disassembling thhrouhrough a prism of dark nuances. “Sure, you cub. I’ll do to her everything I want.”


A bath. She really needed it, after that bad day passed under the bad glances of her schoolmates. She didn’t really care…she wasn’t really impressed seeing Xander and Cordelia together. Made for each other, probably.
But Xander begun to upset her with his continuous reproachful expression; he was treating her as an expert prostitute…
Prostitute? Where that word does came from?
Buffy snorted, while she was finishing taking off her underwear. She had to stop thinking about that.
Hang Xander Harris and his churchy hypocrisy! He enjoyed a lot her little tricks, didn’t he?
And she could bet her shopping-Saturday that Cordelia Chase was quite an expert in that field…
She entered in the tub, enjoying, as soon as she touched the water, the shivers which ran through her body.
When that entire story about Angelus would be over she should find a boyfriend, a real one, she told herself trying to relax without any result. She felt rigid and tense…she missed Spike. Particularly she missed sex. She didn’t understand how someone could live without making sex. Didn’t they feel like they were exploding? Didn’t they wanna scream?
Well, she wanted to.
She went under the water to wash her hair and when she came up two big and masculine hands leaned upon her eyes.
No fear. It was jus him. She…she was waiting for him.
“It’s just me” he whispered from her shoulders, with his voice made of wind and darkness, his full lips brushing her lobe.
“I…I was waiting for you,” Buffy faltered.
“Naughty girl…” continued he, “Don’t you know that good girls don’t think about those things in the tub? But you’re not a good girl, isn’t it? You make some good things to your male friends at school…”
His hands slid on her neck and then down on her breast. “You fuck with vampires against the crypts’ walls…”
And the hands went down, in the water. She could only see those hands, those long fingers, two rings, one with a reone,one, the other made of silver with a sophisticated shape. “You naughty, naughty girl…”
The glow of the red stone disappeared between her legs and Buffy instinctively dug her feet against the tub sides. “Weren’t you feeling like you were exploding?” that dark and liquid voice tormented her, “Didn’t you wanna scream?”
His hand was moving faster. “Explode then. And scream.”
Buffy opened her eyes, painfully banging her head against the tiled wall near the tub. Gasping, she waited that the spasms of that new, incredible orgasm calmed down. A dream. Always a dream.
And always the same scent. Musk and something else.
But what was happening then?
The ring of her mobile frightened her, and she banged her head for the second time. She went in her room, still confused, rough and ready wrapped up in a bath-towel…And she noticed it just at the moment she picked up the phone. On the floor there was a big and oblong envelope. It was sealed with sealing-wax. And upon the wax there was a letter: “A”.
Shaking, she picked it up and she opened it. Oh, it contained a drawing. Or, better, a portrait. Her portrait. She was sleeping. Oh…
The paper fell down to her hand and she hardly could keep he mobile-which was continuing to ring- in the other one. “Hello!” she cried, incapable to control her hysteria.
“Ehy slayer…”
Buffy’s eyes were desperately running through every single corner of her room. “Spike?”
“Any other guess? I told you I would have called you when Angelus would have arrived, so…”
Buffy switched off the phone. She was out of control. She felt anger. Fear. Pure excitement. But fear mostly.
Oh, hang Spike! , she thought, I know that Angelus has arrived. And I also know where he is.


God willing, Giles was still in the library. She found him while he was examining a tome of at least one thousand dusty pages…and she didn’t even try to guess in which dead language it could be written.
“Buffy, it’s late, what are you doing here? What…” the watcher stopped to talk, looking doubtfully at her wet hair.
“Oh, God, the hair-dryer had broken…like that, suddenly.” Buffy said avoiding to make him notice the shadow of red lipstick in his blouse’s reverse. Naughty Rupert…
“Oh. So why are you here? Something wrong?”
Ok, thought Buffy. Lie and say a big lie. He must believe you immediately. “I was thinking about Angelus…”
Giles frowned. “You were thinking about Angelus…”
“Yep…Well, you told me he’s not a common vampire…I mean, he’s not that kind of vampire tat waits for you at a street corner to overtake you…he’s smart. A refined guy, right? And if…if he decides to attack me through my mom? He can do that, right?”
“Buffy!” Giles said, turning pale. “What are you trying to say? Angelus has already arrived? Did he hurt your mom?”
“No, nothing like that!” she reassured him shaking her hands. “But that can happen, right? I’ve read about his…angelic face…If he came in front of the door, with a well-built excuse, mom would immediately invite him to come in…and then…”
“And then it would be over”, sighted Giles. “At least for your mother. Buffy, you’re right. I’m a stupid, I didn’t think about that…It could be typical of Angelus. He has never loved easy ways. He loves overcoming the stereotypes. And he loves playing with his victims, tired them in their minds before than in their bodies…Some watchers had the theory that his goal is not blood, but the dominion. Absolute dominion.”
Buffy gulped, feeling a bit sick. “If your purpose is calm me down…well, stop now!”
“Sorry, I feel like an idiot…but it’s like till now I didn’t want to accept that you have to fight with that monster…”
“And now do you accept it?”
“You seem quite sure about that.”
“And I really am. Call it Slayer instinct…” Buffy stood up, resolute. “Is there any spell to protect the house, or, better, to stop the entrance? My mom is in Los Angeles and I shouldn’t explain her anything about incense, Latin and all this stuff…”
Giles stood up. “Sure!” He went fast up the stairs and disappeared behind the shelves, coming out after a while with a small, bad shaped volume. “I was reading it just some days ago. It’s a small treatise about the most efficient spells to keep out vampires and demons. It contains also a list of ingredients and wordings…but I can search for more material, if you want…”
“Thanks…”, she whispered keeping the book as it were a relic. “I’ll go to the magic shop and then I’ll call Willow to ask her help.”
“Ah…Buffy…” Giles stopped her. He was serious. “I wanted to say that…wellm vem very proud of you. I’ve noticed that you’re growing up and you’re carrying on your mission more seriously. Well done, I was hoping for that.” He smiled rapidly. “I know you think you can face your destiny all alone, but that’s not completely true. You’re the Chosen one, I’m your watcher and I’ve the duty to guide and support you.” He lowered his eyes.
“With the Master…you’ve cut me out. And I’ve understood and accepted your reasons. But, please, don’t do it again. Let me help you. As soon as Angelus arrives come to me. Right Buffy? Do you understand?”
Buffy blushed, hoping that he would think that she was moved by his unusual and paternal speech. She nodded, and she went out running.
Oh Giles, she thought, it’s too late now…


Damn to too tight mini-skirts, mumbled Buffy to herself, fighting to overcome the window. The bag which contained the ingredients for the spell fell down from her hand on the floor with a sinister sound of broken glasses. At the same time, somebody turned on the light.
“Tell me…” Angelus asked her, laid in her bed, with her furry pig, Mr Gordo, in his hands. “Why haven’t used the door, since your mom’s not at home? Habit? Super heroine megalomania?”
Buffy froze, astride the window-ledge. Was it a dream?
No…not that time. Angelus was there. And he was real.
She looked at him, frozen. He wore, under the leather coat, a wine coloured shirt and leather pants. He had leather shoes with silver buckles which looked like spurs. Not a single, bloody detail was unkempt. Not even a dream could be so perfect.
He let that Buffy examined him. “If I were you, I’ll come down from there darling…I can see your panties from here…”
Buffy jumped in, like she got burned, treading on the glasses inside the bag. “So…you’re Angelus…”
The vamp smiled. “The one and the only Angelus.”
“Well…if we have to fight, it’s better going out. I don’t wanna fill my room with your dust”.
Angelus laughed softly, sensually hunching back his dark-haired head. “You’re funny…”
His fingers, with the two rings she knew very well, were diving in Mr. Gordo’s pink fur, in a way Buffy found both outrageous and sensual.
“And we cannot fight until I’ve taken part in the ritual to cure Drusilla. You’ve promised that to Spike.” he said, regaining her attention.
“You know about…”
“About your deal with Spike? Of course. I always know everything about Spike’s actions.”
Buffy staggered “Everything?”
“Everything” Angelus replied looking at her. “And, by the way, I don’t wanna kill you.”
“Don’t you?”
“No. Why should I?”
“Oh…let me just guess…” Buffy provoked him, beginning to feel more confident. If she avoided his eyes, black like perdition, maybe she would have a chance.
“Maybe because I’m the Slayer and you are The Scourge of Europe?”
“Roles. Duty. Missions.” He sighted, putting the little pig on the blanket and standing up.
“That typically human tendency to classify and encage…deplorable.” He tided up his coat, looking at her, enjoyed. “You’re not getting wh’m t’m tellin’ you, right? Yeah, you’re not so keen on words…you want action.”
He had been faster than the eye, and suddenly he was close to her, no more than two steps.
And Buffy could see any particular of his face. And she had the evidence that the abyss of his glance was endless.
“You want someone who can teach you to dance…like Spike” He was coming closer, and he was so tall, so…so…
Buffy forgot all the attack or defence gestures. She could only smell that familiar musk scent. And something else. And it was penetrating in her veins, like a bust.
“And what has our Spike done?” Angelus whispered. “Maybe this?”
In a fraction of a second his mouth, that mouth to bite, was upon hers, inside hers. She opened her lips nearly with relief, and the warm contact with the vamp’s tongue gave her a burst of pleasure. Warm, yeah…She wasn’t surprised. She could distinguish blood taste now. And this, for an ancient and mysterious reason, inebriated her. He was so tall…and she caught him by the back of the neck, forcing him to bend more, to devour her…
But Angelus stopped and he took her by the neck, taking her away from him. “And then?” he was gasping a bit. “What has he done? Like that?”
He rudely pushed her against the wall and he raised her, putting her legs under his hips. Her mini-skirt got immediately torn and Buffy suffocated a moan, feeling his erection, ready, against his leather pants. Angelus pushed his pelvis against her and she immediately opened her legs, clutching to his shoulders, with a desperate request in her eyes.
“Is this the dance Spike told you?” Another push. “Well, Slayer…that’s a dance he learned from me…” His lips were titillating her neck and his erections continued to push against her, without giving her any satisfaction. “Like a lot of other things. Mysterious things. Secrets. Truths. Do you also wanna learn from me Buffy?”
Oh, her name…It was the first time he was calling her by the name. And it seemed another name in his mouth. Another girl she didn’t know. And maybe it was time to know her. But she had no breath…no breath to answer.
Angelus freed himself from her, and she fell down. “You know where I am. sai said, turning around the bed. When he was in front of the door he turned round, stolid, as if anything wasn’t happened between them. “If you don’t mind, I prefer the main entrance.”
Buffy remained on the floor, her heart was fool, her thought were confused. He went away.
Gone. Just like a dream. Or a nightmare.
Then she licked her swollen lips, sticky with his taste. Blood taste.
And now she was trapped in that dream. In that nightmare.