Beholder

Buffy slowly woke and stretched languorously…or tried to. Her stretch was curtailed by the tall, muscular vampire curled around her as if she were some cherished toy. Buffy smiled and cuddled into his cool, lean body for a moment, her hands smoothing over the hard planes of his chest.

Then she froze.

Angel was in bed with her. Angel made love to her. *Oh, my god…Angelus!*

Buffy pulled her hands back from his chest as if his cool skin had burned her, wondering if even now he was awake and staring at her maimed eyes with that mocking grin of his. He didn’t need to breathe—did it only out of long habit and a desire to appear as unthreatening as possible. He could be laughing silently to himself right now at the pathetic slayer who’d fallen so easily into bed with him…again.

She extricated herself from him, sliding her leg out from between his. He rumbled a little at that and she stilled abruptly, trying not to breathe asgrowgrowled and rolled to his side, purring for a moment before he lapsed once again into the deathlike slumber of the vampire.

*

He dreamed crimson dreams of death and slaughter flavored by Slayer’s blood and sex. The dreams were scintillating, ever-changing images of victims, torture, sex, and blood—always blood. Buffy was the center of a hundred different fantasies, cherished dreams, in which he stalked her like the predator he was—stalked her, fucked her, drank her, and turned her. She hunted by his side through one thousand sunless days, killing with him—a merciless, vicious, angel of the night.

*

He morphed to game face and growled—a rumbly purr of menace that startled Buffy into falling from the bed. She landed with an ungraceful thump and crawled naked across the carpet to the closet. She caught her knee on discarded clothes—his pants—she thought as she sprawled face first on the floor. She hauled herself frantically to her knees and began crawling again.

She reached the closet and scrabbled to open the door, hands shaking as she pulled it open. Her entire body winced from his regard, terrified that he was staring at her right that moment with malice in his eyes. As she reached for the trunk, Buffy felt a cool draft send ice up her spine and a hand as cold as death placed itself upon her lower back.

“Going so soon, Lover?” his voice purred before he slid his hand around to pull her against him. Buffy tensed, expecting a fang strike, and flinched when his lips pressed a soft kiss to the nape of her neck instead. His tongue darted out to taste her and she deredered in his grasp as he slid his other hand around to cup her breast. He caressed the soft mound before sliding his fingers in to pinch the nipple.

Buffy gasped, terror warring with renewed desire as her long-untouched body responded to its mate.

“Come back to bed, Buffy, the others aren’t even awake yet. There’s plenty of time to dress later,” he purred into her ear.

Buffy had not been still while he’d grabbed her, her hands opening the chest and feeling for the stakes she’d left in the top tray. She grabbed one just as he moved his mouth to the mark he’d renewed last night on her neck, his tongue dipping into the twin wounds as he suckled lightly at the scar. He grazed it with his fangs and she twisted convulsively in his grasp, turning to pin him beneath her on the carpet.

Buffy held one hand around his neck, pinning it to the floor as the other centered the stake directly above his unbeating heart. “Don’t move,” she hissed. “I’ll kill you, I really will!”

“Ah, ouch, ah, ok, Buffy, I get it, no morning snacking. All right?” Angel joked, wondering what had gotten into his volatile lover this morning. She had no idea how intoxicating she was—her hair all mussed from sleep and his scent all over her. He stared at his mate with passion, grateful she’d allowed him to drink from her last night and aroused again at the faint taste of her he’d taken from the mark.

“God, Angelus, you are such a twisted fuck. How can you get off on this? Don’t deny it, I can feel you!” she hissed before turning her head to call urgently, “Willow, Giles, come quickly!”

“Uh, Buffy, are you sure you want them in here right now? I mean, we’re not really dressed for entertaining and I’m not really that comfortable with Giles and Willow seeing us like…” he paused, “…did you just call me Angelus?”

Buffy’s blind eyes stared down at him and he read terror, pain, and growing consternation in them somehow before the door to her room burst open.

“Buffy, what’s the…oh, good lord, Angelus?” Giles choked. The sight of his Slayer naked and straddling an equally naked and quite erect, *Good lord, the watchers’ diaries are truly accurate, I always thought they’d exaggerated his proportions!* “Do you need the manacles?”

“I’ll find my extra orb of Thesula, Buffy,” Willow blurted, her eyes strayto tto the supple, muscular body of the Slayer. *No! No looking at the best friend that way! Not allowed. Even if she can’t really tell ‘cause she can’t see me and I never realized what nicely rounded breasts she has and the nipples are just so pink and tasty-look….* “Eep!”

Giles was pushed further into the room as Willow pelted through the door and down the hall, for all the world as if Angelus were actually chasing her instead of pinned beneath Buffy’s thighs where the Watcher was definitely not looking.

“Giles, there’s been some kind of mistake. I am not Angelus!” Angel insisted.

Buffy pulled abruptly away from him, her face crumpling. “Oh, my god, you’re not Angelus!” she said.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You could sound a little happier about it, Buffy,” Angel said somewhat plaintively as he grabbed his pants and slid into them, fastening them with difficulty over his still throbbing erection. He glared at Giles standing in the doorway and growled pointedly at the Watcher, “Her robe, please, Giles?”

“What? Oh, yes, quite, Angel,” the Watcher replied, handing Buffy’s fluffy robe to the vampire with alacrity. Angel paced to the Slayer and wrapped her gently in the soft fabric. Buffy was staring his way with a stricken look upon her face.

“But Buffy, why would you think Angel was Angelus unless you two…” Giles voice trailed off and he gazed at the vampire. “You two were…together and he…”

“He didn’t lose his soul, Giles. It’s easy enough for you to see why,” Buffy bit out, gesturing abruptly at her scarred face. “I’m amazed he was able to get it up at all looking at this,” she said bitterly. “But hey, Angel, at least we know your soul is safe and sound around me now. Pardon me if I’m not exactly jumping for joy over the reason.” She stood and stepped haltingly toward her bedside table, shaking hands flitting over its surface until she found her dark glasses. She grabbed them quickly and placed them on her face.

“I’m going to go take a shower. If you’d like to leave before I’m done, Angel, I’m sure Giles will drive you.” She brushed quickly by both men and into the bathroom, locking the door with an audible click.

Willow hurried into the room, an orb of Thesula clutched in her hands. “Ok, I found it…Giles, why is Angelus not tied up? Where is Buffy? What’s going on?”

“I simply cannot believe you could be that complacent, again, Angel. What were you thinking?” Giles hissed in anger. “How could you do this to her?”

“I didn’t, we just, the vampires were there and we fought and she was so happy and we kissed and…it’s not like that!” Angel sputtered.

Willow looked at him. “You and Buffy slept together?”

“Yes.”

“And you both…”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t…”

“No.”

“Why not? I mean if you both…”

“Look Willow,” Angel said, “I’m not sure why I still have my soul, but I do, ok? Now, Buffy is really upset and I need to go talk to her.”

“Do you really feel that’s advisable, Angel?” Giles asked, concern for Buffy paramount in his mind.

“Giles, it’s not about the scars. I never cared what she looked like. I love Buffy for herself, not her skin er her hair or that other stuff. She’s more beautiful to me today than she was when I first saw her sitting on the steps outside of Hemmery. She needs to know that.”

“If so, then one must inquire why it wasn’t…”

“Because it’s my fault, Giles. Cordelia got a vision and I never followed up on it and Buffy faced that demon alone instead of with me beside her. It’s my fault she’s blind, Giles,” Angel said, his face full of shame at the admission.

“Cordelia had a vision with Buffy in it and you decided not to come or call or anything?” Willow asked in disbelief.

“Well, she had the vision and then she got distracted and then she had another vision and she never got a chance to tell me about the first one, so I didn’t find out until yesterday,” Angel admitted.

“So you didn’t know?” Giles asked.

“Not till Buffy called, then I told Cordy I was coming here and she remembered,” Angel said.

“So, Angel, how is this your fault?” Willow asked. “I mean, I see that Cordelia screwed up, but where exactly did it become your fault?”

“She’s my see sho should have asked her about the first vision, not got caught up in the second one, Willow,” Angel replied.

Giles gazed at the vampire. “Angel, I simply don’t see how you can blame yourself for Buffy’s disability. She went into the fight as she has in the past, willing to do whatever it took to stop the demon. The cost this time was terrible, but she’d died before to save the world, surely you see that this is the life of the Chosen.”

“Not Buffy. Not again. She’s given up everything. She deserves a real life, a life in the sun. And now she’ll never see it again because I wasn’t here to help her,” Angel gritted. “Now, excuse me, but I’ve wounded the only woman I’ve ever loved past bearing…again…and I really need to try to make things right with her.”

He pushed by them into the hall and knocked on the door to the bathroom. “Buffy, can I come in? Buffy?”

“Go away, Angel.”

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me Buffy.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. Go away and leave me alone.”

“Open the door or I’m breaking the lock, Buffy,” Angel roared.

“Go to hell, Angel…again!” she cursed.

Angel grabbed the handle of the door and twisted, popping the lock and pushing the door open. He closed it in the startled faces of Giles and Willow. The shower was on and Buffy’s robe lay on the floor in a heap. Angel stepped to the shower and peered in.

Buffy was huddled in the corner, her water-darkened hair a honey colored mass that obscured her eyes and face as she curled her arms around her knees and shrank from his unseen regard.

Angel swore at the misery that screamed from her with every wince and stripped his pants away. He climbed into the shower and crouched at Buffy’s feet.

“I love you, Buffy. I will never stop,” he whispered.

“I don’t wantr pir pity, Angel. Will you please just go away now?” she begged.

Angel reached one hand out to caress her hair, smoothing it back from her face with a gentle movement. “I can’t live without you anymore, Buffy. Please don’t turn me away.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause the sex is so bad that you don’t even have to worry about perfect happiness ever again,” Buffy quipped.

“Buffy, it’s not like that.”

“How is it not like that, Angel? I don’t do it for you anymore…that’s ok. You want to do the blind chick again before you leave for LA? No problemo,” she hissed, moving forward to grab his thighs. She knelt before him and sucked his still-hard cock into her mouth, twirling her tongue around it and lapping at the end before engulfing the entire length.

Angel groaned put put his hands on her shoulders, trying to gently push her away.

Buffy held tight to his thighs, sucking harder as she caressed his balls with her thumbs.

Angel moaned and tried harder toh heh her away, but his hands were shaking in reaction to her skilled teasing. Then she sucked him even further into her throat, swallowing convulsively to control her gag reflex. At the powerful sensations, Angel bucked and cried out, losing control and spasming as he came. Buffy swallowed him down before pulling away to almost cower before him.

“It’s too bad your night vision is so good, Angel, otherwise we might be able to make a go of this,” she said bitterly. “Maybe you could just not look? I could get glasses that stay put better and you’d never have to look at my freaksome, maimed face again.”

Angel gasped at the aftermath of one of the most powerful orgasms he’d ever experienced, then shut off the water, and grabbed Buffy by the shoulders, hauling her to her feet.

“Listen to me, you stubborn, wrong-headed, self-hating woman! I love you. I love you covered in vampire du I l I love you covered in demon slime. I love you when you wake up in the morning and I love you when you fall asleep at night. I love you when we’re together and I love you when we’re apart. You are my Mate! In 246 years, I have never, ever loved another woman the way I love you. I don’t care about your eyes, hell, I wouldn’t care if you didn’t have a face at all, as long as I could be near you, smell your scent, and hear your voice. I love you, Buffy. You, not your face, not your eyes, not your hair--you.” He panted witotiootion, tears running freely down his face.

“But you didn’t…” her voice broke and she sobbed.

“No, Buffy, I didn’t feel perfect happiness. You want to know why?”

“Yes,” she sniffed, rubbing her face with the back of one hand.

“I look at you, at your beautiful face, and I can’t feel perfect happiness, because it was my fault. My fault that you are blind, Buffy. And I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed,” he admitted, turning from her to grab a towel to dry her now-shaking body. “Cordy had a vision and it got ignored, and I wasn’t here to help you and now you’re blind and it’s my fault, Buffy! I should have been here!”

Buffy stood stock still in his arms. “You can’t be happy because you think this,” she gestured to her face, “is your fault?”

Angel ducked his head in shame, despite the fact that she couldn’t see him. “Yes.”

Buffy dropped the towel and reached her hands out, hesitating only a mt bet before she found his face and stroked it gently. “Oh, Angel, it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. Slayers get hurt. We get killed. It’s what we do. You didn’t do this to me.”

Angel pulled her into his arms, kissing the water from her face and smoothing her hair back behind her ears. “Buffy,” he groaned, holding her to him as if he’d never let go.

To be continued…