A Puritan In New York
folder
AtS Crossovers › Misc - Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
1,265
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
AtS Crossovers › Misc - Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
1,265
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own AtS or American Psycho. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
End
***
Sunnydale, CA, 1999
“Penn, why are you here?”
He let go of his grip on Angel’s throat, hearing his sire hit the concrete with a satisfying clunk and groan. “To see you. What other reason could I possibly have for being in this God-forsaken town?”
“So you came to see me. Why? Wanted to gloat? Wanted to see me humbled and caged and being burnt by a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl? C’mon, Penn, what are you doing here?”
“I came to see you”, he said, taking a couple of steps back until he was resting against the bars again, letting his demon face slip away. “I’d heard you were here. I hadn’t seen you since before you stood me up in Italy, and that was over a hundred years ago. Someone mentioned you had a soul. So I came over. I wanted to see if it was true”.
“Well it is. Take a good look. Angel, vampire with a soul. So now you know. Satisfied?”
“I never knew you with a soul. You used to tell me what you were like when you were alive, before you met Darla, but I never knew you. I wanted to see for myself, because I thought that was the only way I’d ever really know you. And I wanted to know you, but you had Darla and you had Drusilla and Spike and I was just an afterthought. Then you abandoned me and I never saw you or heard from you again. So I needed to come when I found out you were here. I almost hoped you had a soul just because that would explain why you didn’t meet me in Italy. I hoped you had because then I could see how you were before Darla”.
“I really did hurt you, didn’t I”.
Penn nodded. “You were the only one who ever showed any interest in me. My father hated me, he never approved. You did. I would’ve done anything for you. But the others were more important than me”.
“I was going to meet you in Italy, you know. I had a carriage waiting. Then gypsies gave me back my soul and I was too confused to do anything. Does that make you feel any better?”
“Strangely, no”.
“I’m sorry”.
“Don’t be”.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all”.
Angel shrank down against the wall, an arm circling his wounded chest protectively, and Penn watched, not sure what he was feeling. He’d gone there to see his sire, and he’d seen him. He’d gone there to see if his sire had a soul. He’d seen. Yet he felt oddly empty. He wasn’t sure the trip had been worth his effort at first, because of that emptiness. All that waiting, all that anticipation, and he felt nothing, no release. Angel’s words had meant nothing. In the end Penn hadn’t even wanted to hurt him.
But then he knew. He looked down at him, cowering there in that cage, and he knew.
“So you’ve seen me with a soul”, Angel stated. “Is it what you expected?”
“No”.
“No?”
“I wanted you to ometomething you’re not. I’m sorry. I wanted you to be Angelus. I wanted to love you like I loved Angelus. I wanted you to be like Patrick was. I’ve come all this way, and you’ve just disappointed me again”.
He turned his back. He couldn’t look anymore. Because that was his sire cowering there, the man who had made him what he was, physically and mentally. That was the man he’d loved for two hundred years only to face disappointment at every turn. That was the man he’d idolised, set on a pedestal as perfect, measured himself and all others against. He’s needed a validation only to find that couldn’t be. That made him sad. He didn’t like to be sad. That made him angry and he didn’t like that either. For twelve blissful years he’d lived without sadness and learned to forget his sire, his perfect Angelus.
After they’d killed Evelyn and Courtenay they’d moved on until all of Patrick’s friends were dead. They’d killed his family. They’d tortured his secretary. Over the years they’d singled out his associates and picked them off slowly, deliberately, dissecting their psyches and breaking them one by one. That had ended seven years ago. Now Patrick was his completely, his with everything he was. They were exploring death together, revelling in it, living saturated by ever-changing shades of blood red in a state of pure being he’d never known existed. It was a beautiful life they had. No wonder he’d forgotten Angelus.
He called for Willow and in she came, skipping like a schoolgirl with a vampire’s face. She let him out, he thanked her for her time and she smiled as she locked herself back into the cage.
As Penn left, finally going home to the man and the life and the city and the murder that he loved, he smiled. As he left, Angel was screaming.
***
End
***
Sunnydale, CA, 1999
“Penn, why are you here?”
He let go of his grip on Angel’s throat, hearing his sire hit the concrete with a satisfying clunk and groan. “To see you. What other reason could I possibly have for being in this God-forsaken town?”
“So you came to see me. Why? Wanted to gloat? Wanted to see me humbled and caged and being burnt by a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl? C’mon, Penn, what are you doing here?”
“I came to see you”, he said, taking a couple of steps back until he was resting against the bars again, letting his demon face slip away. “I’d heard you were here. I hadn’t seen you since before you stood me up in Italy, and that was over a hundred years ago. Someone mentioned you had a soul. So I came over. I wanted to see if it was true”.
“Well it is. Take a good look. Angel, vampire with a soul. So now you know. Satisfied?”
“I never knew you with a soul. You used to tell me what you were like when you were alive, before you met Darla, but I never knew you. I wanted to see for myself, because I thought that was the only way I’d ever really know you. And I wanted to know you, but you had Darla and you had Drusilla and Spike and I was just an afterthought. Then you abandoned me and I never saw you or heard from you again. So I needed to come when I found out you were here. I almost hoped you had a soul just because that would explain why you didn’t meet me in Italy. I hoped you had because then I could see how you were before Darla”.
“I really did hurt you, didn’t I”.
Penn nodded. “You were the only one who ever showed any interest in me. My father hated me, he never approved. You did. I would’ve done anything for you. But the others were more important than me”.
“I was going to meet you in Italy, you know. I had a carriage waiting. Then gypsies gave me back my soul and I was too confused to do anything. Does that make you feel any better?”
“Strangely, no”.
“I’m sorry”.
“Don’t be”.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all”.
Angel shrank down against the wall, an arm circling his wounded chest protectively, and Penn watched, not sure what he was feeling. He’d gone there to see his sire, and he’d seen him. He’d gone there to see if his sire had a soul. He’d seen. Yet he felt oddly empty. He wasn’t sure the trip had been worth his effort at first, because of that emptiness. All that waiting, all that anticipation, and he felt nothing, no release. Angel’s words had meant nothing. In the end Penn hadn’t even wanted to hurt him.
But then he knew. He looked down at him, cowering there in that cage, and he knew.
“So you’ve seen me with a soul”, Angel stated. “Is it what you expected?”
“No”.
“No?”
“I wanted you to ometomething you’re not. I’m sorry. I wanted you to be Angelus. I wanted to love you like I loved Angelus. I wanted you to be like Patrick was. I’ve come all this way, and you’ve just disappointed me again”.
He turned his back. He couldn’t look anymore. Because that was his sire cowering there, the man who had made him what he was, physically and mentally. That was the man he’d loved for two hundred years only to face disappointment at every turn. That was the man he’d idolised, set on a pedestal as perfect, measured himself and all others against. He’s needed a validation only to find that couldn’t be. That made him sad. He didn’t like to be sad. That made him angry and he didn’t like that either. For twelve blissful years he’d lived without sadness and learned to forget his sire, his perfect Angelus.
After they’d killed Evelyn and Courtenay they’d moved on until all of Patrick’s friends were dead. They’d killed his family. They’d tortured his secretary. Over the years they’d singled out his associates and picked them off slowly, deliberately, dissecting their psyches and breaking them one by one. That had ended seven years ago. Now Patrick was his completely, his with everything he was. They were exploring death together, revelling in it, living saturated by ever-changing shades of blood red in a state of pure being he’d never known existed. It was a beautiful life they had. No wonder he’d forgotten Angelus.
He called for Willow and in she came, skipping like a schoolgirl with a vampire’s face. She let him out, he thanked her for her time and she smiled as she locked herself back into the cage.
As Penn left, finally going home to the man and the life and the city and the murder that he loved, he smiled. As he left, Angel was screaming.
***
End
***