I'll Never Love You

Healed



"So Oz ate someone last night?" Cordelia asked.

From her place behind the Library’s computer, Willow shot Cordelia a glare. "He did not! I was up with him all night and Oz never left the book cage!"

"Oz does not eat people, Cordy," Xander told his girlfriend. Cordelia and Xander sat in chairs at the largest table in the Library. Xander was staring at me so hard if his eyes had been weights they’d be two ten toners pounding me upside the head. It’s clear where this is going.

Willow sat at the Library’s small computer station; Oz stood directly behind her. She’d pulled up the Medical Examiners report on the boy killed the night before. Buffy stood next me, but not too close. Her arms crossed over her chest. I could sense the effort she put into keeping her eyes off of me, and her focus on the situation at hand. The urge to reach out and take her into my arms was staggering.

"I knew Jeff,” Oz said. "He was a good guy."

Willow reached for Oz over her shoulder and they squeezed each other’s hands. "Maybe there's another werewolf roaming the woods?" Oz suggested.

Now Giles is raking me over the coals with his stare, and I’m positive I know where this is leading. "Perhaps. Perhaps it's something else entirely," he stated from the open doorway of his office.

"It's okay. We'll work together, and we'll figure this out," Buffy says nervously noticing how eyes were starting to turn my way. "Faith and I’ll patrol the woods where Jeff was killed. Willow, you and the others check out the morgue."

Faith?

"Right. We can see what kind of kill it is," Willow agreed.

"Come on guys, why are we dancing around this! We’re all thinking the same thing!" Xander exclaimed.

"It wasn’t me."

"And we’re supposed to believe you, because?"

"Xander, you said it yourself he was with you all night at the mansion," Buffy argued in my defense.

"Hey, who knows what he could’ve done before we… we ran into each other! He might’ve massacred the whole football team for all I know!"

"I didn’t feed on anyone before you found me, Xander," I said with complete honesty.

Xander clutched his lips together until they were a bloodless white. With narrowed eyes he said, "Oh, yeah? Then why was there blood all over you last night, huh?"

Up until that point everyone in the Library had been watching our back and forth like spectators at a tennis match. But at Xander’s inquiry they all looked at me expectantly, waiting for my answer. I shrugged. "A lot of wildlife in the woods."

"We’re supposed to believe you ate a squirrel?"

"A couple of deer, actually."

"Yeah, right. He’s Angelus. Giles where’s your crossbow at?"

I stared at Xander for a few seconds and said, "You know I’m not Angelus, Xander. So stop trying to pretend I am."

"Up yours, you hemophiliac with dental problems! I don’t care if you aren’t Angelus anymore, I’m not letting you off the hook for him torturing Giles or killing Ms. Calendar and all the other demented stuff he did!"

Could somebody please remind me why I didn’t off this punk in his sleep? I mean how stupid is he bringing Jenny Calendar up in front of Giles? Not a fucking lick of sense in his head!

"Let’s calm down, everybody," Buffy said.

"You calm down!" Xander shouted. "This guy is nothing but a--"

"Xander," Giles spoke up quietly. Xander cut off whatever he was going spew forth and settled down into his chair. Crossing his arms over his chest huffily. All he needed to do was pout and he’d make a perfect two-year-old. Giles directed his attention at Willow. "Willow, the Coroner’s report says Mr. Orkin was mauled?"

Willow nodded.

"Okay, you see," Buffy said, "vampires just bite and suck, they don’t get all chew happy." Buffy turned to me. "Right?"

I couldn’t stop myself from giving a ghost of a smile as I dipped my chin. She was adorable.

"Oh my god, you’re asking that psycho? What does he have to say that we want to hear, huh? ‘I snapped Ms. Calendar’s neck like a twig, sorry bout that.’ or ‘I know the little gift I left in your bed was in poor taste, Giles, but that wacky Angelus you know him!’ Screw that! And of course you’re defending him, Buffy! It’s enough to turn my stomach!"

Okay, I can only take so much of this punk’s mouth. "You're right, Xander," I said bowing my head, scratching at my temple. "I'm a terrible creature. I shouldn’t be allowed to exist." I lifted my head and stared straight into his eyes. "I mean it's not like something took over my body or anything and made me do all those things."

The effect my words had on Xander was immediate. His eyes bugged out then he quickly averted them and bowed his head. Xander sank down in his chair so low his butt had to be hanging off the seat.

Buffy and the others looked from me to Xander, probably wondering why he wasn't coming up with some supposedly witty retort.

Cordelia’s voice cut through the silence. "Hey, Angel, whatever you said to make him shut up like that could you teach it to me? I'll pay you money—good money."




"And we’re sure he’s not evil?" Cordelia asked for the fifth time since we left the Library.

"Can we please stop talking about that creep and move on to a more pleasant topic of conversation? Like, I dunno, Irritable Bowel Syndrome?"

"Xander, what’s going on with you? It’s like you have multiple personalities or something when it comes to Angel!" Willow said.

"That’s the spirit, Wills," I sighed.

The four of us: Oz, Willow, Cordy and me sat together at a lunch table in a secluded corner of the cafeteria. Our voices lost in the din of a hundred or so students holding their own conversations and eating their lunches. We left Buffy and Angel in the Library with Giles so the three could discuss stuff. That was twenty minutes ago. I wasn’t supposed to be here but Cordelia and Willow roped me into joining them for lunch.

"Yeah, man, you were kinda going to bat for Angel earlier," Oz commented after taking a swig on his can of Coke.

I chose that moment to focus on the dehydrated hamburger sitting on my lunch tray and shrugged. "What can I say? Beneficence hyphen May Angel Fall on a Big Stake is my middle name."

"Lavelle is your middle name," Willow said.

"Do you even know what beneficence means?" Cordy asked.

My best friend and my girlfriend ladies and gentlemen.



****************************************************


As it turned out it wasn’t a werewolf or a vampire that killed Jeff Orkin. The murderer was one of Scott-soon-to-be-Buffy’s ex-Hope’s best friends, Pete. Pete was just some guy trying to impress his girlfriend, Debbie, by doing his best Dr. Jekell and Mr. Hyde impersonation. He killed a guidance counselor and tried to kill Oz before Buffy and Willow clued onto the guy. Angel ended up snapping Pete’s neck—seems he likes that crunchy sound a broken neck makes when he twists it just so—to save Buffy and Debbie, and the gang welcomed him back.

Even Giles, in his own way, accepted Angel back into the ranks. Which really disappointed me, but didn’t necessarily surprise me. Saving Buffy’s life is a great way to earn your way into Giles’ good graces. Too bad, I think our refusal to let Angel off the hook was the most Giles and I have had in common since we’ve known each other.

Anyway, everyone fell into the routine of ignoring Angel’s foray to psycho-dom and whatever it was he and Buffy had going on. Like those two together wasn’t the worst idea ever! And I couldn’t say or do much about it. Willow and Buffy ignored me when I wanted to bitch about Angel, Cordelia thought I was still hung up on Buffy because I kept mouthing off to her about Buffy and Angel getting couple-y again and refused to make out with me when I did; and Giles, king of avoidance, preferred to act like they’d never risk Angel losing his soul again. Oz was concerned, but way too serene, and I wanted someone who was going to nod his or her head and agree whole-hearted while I ranted. That wasn’t Oz. In short, it sucked badly.






I walked to the Library alone down the empty hallway thinking about Cordelia, as usual. It’d been months since we broke up, well since she broke up with me, and I was smarting. Not that I blamed her for ditching me. I would have left me, too, under the same circumstances. But it still hurt.

When I walked into the Library I didn’t notice it at first. Maybe because despite all the bad stuff I’d gone through in this room, and all the prophecies of doom, the Library always felt like a comfort zone to me. It was where I’d spent a good bulk of my teenage years hanging out with my best friends.

I saw Buff and Wills huddled together on the steps leading up to the stacks. Willow had one arm over Buffy’s shoulders. I didn’t notice the obvious sign of comforting at first. I didn’t know where Giles was but I guessed he’d be in his office. But it wasn’t something I was trying too hard figure out. I was sulking, damnit!

"Hey, guys," I greeted heading over to the main table. I threw my book bag onto its well-polished surface and pulled out a chair. I never got to sit in it, though.

"Was it good?" Buffy asked.

It was the tone in her voice that made me stop and look at her and see her. Yeah, there’s a difference between looking at a person and seeing them. Looking is what I did when I came in, my eyes skimmed over Buffy and Willow like I would the pages of a boring book I didn’t want to read.

But I saw them now. I saw red, irritated eyes and a tear-stained face. I saw a hurt, reproachful face.

"Was what good?"

Buffy stood up and walked over to me. "Angel."

I looked at Buffy with even more confusion. She said Angel’s name like it explained everything. "What about Dead boy?" I asked.

"Dead boy. Do you call him that in bed, too?"

I stared at Buffy through rapidly blinking eyes. I had nightmares that started out like this, and I just had to be stuck in the middle of another one. Except in this one I clearly remember the class I walked out of five minutes ago and the homework assignment the teacher gave out. I recalled how Principal Snyder snarled at me to get out of the halls and get to where I was supposed to be. I remember seeing Cordelia standing at her locker with Harmony and the other Cordettes and feeling angry and sadder than I’d ever show.

Usually there weren’t that many details leading up to Buffy finding me out. We were in the Library, so the place was right. Buffy always confronted me in the Library. My eyes flickered over to Willow and she looked away. But not before I saw the look of repugnance on her face.

That always happened, too.

I looked back at Buffy—I’d rather face her rage than watch Willow turned away from me like that.

"I-I…"

"Then again maybe you don’t," Buffy said. "Angel did say you don’t talk much when you’re together. He says you’re too busy having all the sex."

"That’s a lie!" I shouted.

"So you never slept with him?"

I couldn’t stop myself from looking away from her.

"Look at me!"

I did.

"Did you have sex with him?"

I shook my head. "Buffy, it’s… It’s not…"

"Answer me."

I lifted a shaky hand to my forehead then let it fall to my side. I opened my mouth to lie, but I couldn’t get the words out. I only withheld the truth form Buffy twice since I’ve known her, but I honestly believed it was the right thing to do in both cases. But to lie to her now, just to save myself, was cowardly. And I owed her more than that.

"It only happened once--"

My head snapped to the side and I crumbled to the floor, teetering on the brink of passing out. I sat up and the whole left side of my face was numb. I squeezed my eye shut, opened it, and screwed it shut again. Trying to reassure myself Buffy didn’t cave that side in.

I knew Buffy could have knocked my head off my shoulders, I new she held back a lot.

"Look at me, Xander," Buffy said. Her voice was softer this time.

I gained control over my wobbly head and tried to focus on Buffy’s face when I looked up at her.

"I don’t ever want to see you again. You see me walking by go the other way. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," I whispered.

Buffy nodded. "Now get out."

I turned on my ass and climbed to my hands and knees and scrambled away to the Library doors.

"Xander," Buffy called out.

Hope swelled in my chest and I turned about. My backpack hit me in the chest. Buffy smiled.

"Don’t wanna give you any reason to slither back in here, do we?"




Xander’s right, I can make myself hard at will. There’s very little a vampire of age can’t control about their bodies. But vampires didn’t need to make them selves excited.

I didn’t understand it myself how vamps were able to enjoy sex—I’ve never really given it much thought, and why should I? Vampires shouldn’t even exist by all common logic. A vampire’s ability to get aroused was only a minor mystery.

Lying on top of Xander there was nothing artificial about my erection now. I wanted him. I needed to plunge inside of him and surround myself in that tight, molten heat between the cleft of his buttocks. And I knew he wanted me, too. The aroma of his lust was a heady and overwhelming scent. It secreted from his every pore and I wanted to rip off his clothes and sniff him from head to toe. But that would take too much time. I wanted to fuck Xander… now.

It was disturbing how badly I wanted him. Most of the time I tried very hard to forget he existed, but sometimes, when I least expected, I’d close my eyes and sleep and dream about sliding so deeply into him I’m buried into the hilt. The heat that surrounds me is unbelievable. It’s like I should be melting inside of Xander. But I don’t dissolve—I’m rock hard, harder than I remember ever being.

But it isn’t me in my dream. It’s Him, that wraith that longed for a woman he loved and desired beyond all reasoning. It’s him touching Xander’s skin, him enjoying touching Xander’s skin, him that wants to stroke Xander. Him that wants to stab his way in and out the boy and bangs into that spot, that bulb inside the boy…

Though it’s not Xander the invader in my body wants to make love to, but the invader inside Xander’s body. He knew and longed for the woman possessing Xander. He knew it was his lover and only her crying out and writhing because there is a connection between them. That connection didn’t extend to Xander and I. We never felt their oneness, only their lust. But it had felt so real to me even from my submerged position; it felt so right…

I peeled Xander’s shirt up over his head and tossed it behind the couch where I’d discarded mine. I quickly brought my mouth down to his chest and licked my way up from where his rib cage came together all the way up to his neck. His skin tasted very clean underneath the salty tang of his light sweat, and smooth and tender. Skin I can easily imagine sinking my teeth into again. Not for the blood—though there’s always the blood—but just to savor the sensation of his soft flesh giving away under my fangs.

I don’t take from him. I haven’t fallen that low. And just like Xander wouldn’t stake me I wouldn’t bite—because neither one of us was willing to give the other the satisfaction.

Xander worked my pants undone and already had me out. He slowly milked my cock with his right hand, while the fingers of his other hand played along my back, pulling me down as he arched his spine and brought our chests closer together. I craned my head up to his and rested my forehead, the point of my nose, and my mouth very near to his. Luxuriating in the warmth of his breath and feverish body temperature.

I stuck out my tongue and slowly glossed Xander’s parted lips with the tip. Xander brought his head up and merged our lips. His jaw working as he basically humped my mouth while sucking my tongue into his. I lost track of how long we kissed that way with Xander trying to suffocate his self on my lips. Or when exactly Xander removed his hand from my erection and entangled it with his left hand in my hair so we were free to grind into each other fully.

Our pleasure muted because Xander still had his pants on and mine were half off—I wanted to put an end to that. I lifted my crotch from his and unbuttoned then unzipped his jeans. Xander went tense all over as I did this, and I don’t know why. Second thoughts, maybe? I didn’t know, but when I slid a hand into his wet boxers and rubbed my fingers and palm over his hardness, Xander shuddered and he went virtually boneless beneath me.

My hand became slicker and slicker the more I stroked Xander, and I stroked him hard because I didn’t want him to be just lying there. I wanted him desperate for my touch, to thrust his erection into my hand. And he didn’t disappoint me. He heaved his hips up increasing the friction between us.

Finally deciding he wanted to breathe, Xander moaned and turned his head away and I had to I let his lips go. His breathing was harsh and labored. Partly from the kiss and partly because of the way I touched him.


"How do you want to do this?" I asked Xander, somewhat bothered by the huskiness I heard in my voice.

"Do… this?" he asked sounding like he was just woke up from a deep sleep.

"I don’t think you want me going into you unprepared, Harris."

"Like you really care if you hurt me."

I sighed. "Why do I bother?"

"Glutton for punishment, I guess," Xander said. "Now shut up. You’re ruining this."

I decided he was right.

I took my hand out of Xander’s pants grabbed him by the hips and flipped him over onto his stomach. I got off him, lowering his jeans and underwear down his legs. He put up no resistance nor did he tense up when I placed my right hand on the tight swell of his right buttock. I squeezed the cheek hard enough to leave a reddened handprint, yet not enough to cause Xander much pain. Xander’s flesh was as supple as I remembered.

I let go of his buttock and stood up from the sofa. I toed off my shoes and kicked them away, then let my slacks fall around my ankles and stepped out of them. I eyed the lines of Xander’s body as I did this.

Xander wasn’t a skinny kid, but the thickness of true manhood had yet to shape his frame, but it was clear he was well into adolescence. His shoulders were wide enough, and what muscles he possessed where slender and well defined from his arms on down to his long legs. They could be easily lost under the clothes he wore.

My glance returned to his backside. The way Xander flexed and twitched in anticipation made me stiffen even more. It’s the part of him I wanted most of all. I wanted—needed—to slam against the small tight swell of his ass and plunder his deepest recesses until he begged me to stop. I laid down on him so my chest pressed against his back and the length of my erection settled between his ass cheeks.

I pumped against him for a moment before sliding down his body until my face was level to his butt.

I didn’t want to use my tongue to prepare Xander. I wasn’t even sure I could do something that… intimate with Buffy, and I loved her. And it just seemed like something you should only do with someone you loved.

So I slid my right middle finger into my mouth and with my other I spread his cheeks apart, exposing his puckered opening. After a time I took my thoroughly moistened finger from my mouth and placed the tip to Xander’s entrance and pressed into him slowly, Xander writhe upon the sofa, his hands torturing its fabric with clenching fists. His anus squeezing to keep out my invading finger and I was surprised by the tightness I felt. I thought Xander might be less resistant to my finger; after all he’d something much bigger occupying his burning channel.

But despite Xander’s resistance I managed to get inside. And when I got my finger into the second knuckle, I started twisting and curling my finger, searching… searching. I was in to the third knuckle when I found Xander’s prostate. I only brushed my fingertip over the knob and Xander’s reaction was immediate and dramatic. He inhaled sharply, and thrust his rear up trying to get my finger to touch him that way again.

I didn’t tease him. Though I would’ve loved to hear him beg. Instead, I give him what he wants right away. I stroke that spot and the more I do the more relaxed that ring of muscle becomes. And Xander sounds like he’s hyperventilating, and he’s not thrusting his ass backwards. I don’t think he was capable of it anymore. It was like he couldn’t find the energy to move. Like the rest of his body went as loose as the rubbery ring around my finger.

I pulled Xander up by his waist with my free arm and brought us both up to our knees, my finger still working him. I kept my arm about him while I reached for his cock. He was beyond hard now, so hard he cried out when I took him in my hand. So hard it hurt.

I keep my hand near the swollen helmet, collecting the capacious amount of pre-come Xander’s erection emitted on my fingers while I masturbated him. I quicken my finger strokes in sync with my jerking motions. And it isn’t long before I get what I’m after.

Finally, Xander begins moving in my one armed embrace, his whole hot body shuddering violently against me. I cupped my hand and caught the scalding splashes of his come in my palm. If I’d applied more pressure to Xander’s prostate there would have been more, but there was enough to suit my needs.

I laid a trembling Xander back down onto his stomach and removed my finger from his ass, then brought my other hand to his entrance and poured half of the cooling fluid over his opening. I used my fore and middle fingers to push the sperm into Xander’s very relaxed rectum. Then I coated my shaft with the rest.

I think Xander was only half-aware when I settled down over his back. Even if he’d been totally aware I wouldn’t have asked him if he was ready. I didn’t care. It was my turn. I’m not sure why I so considerate this long. Another point for Xander, I didn’t particularly care how I fucked him.

I placed the tip of my cock to his considerably slicked hole and with one unceremonious thrust filled Xander’s tight sheath. For a second I was in heaven, or hell, because heaven can’t be *this* hot. God, the heat was incredible! Beyond incredible! And it wasn’t just the heat there were conflicting forces at work inside Xander’s body. Glorious ever-changing pressures, squeezing me, making the inner walls of Xander’s rectum undulate wildly around my cock. I swear I could have come right then.

Xander screamed. Arousal turned to fear. I could smell it in the flash of heavy perspiration that suddenly drenched Xander’s body.

Unfortunately for Xander this did nothing to dampen my arousal. I probably should have pulled out of him. And I tried to, even if the effort was half-hearted. But there was a part of me that delighted in his fear, his pain. It made me stiffer inside of him—made me want to ride him hard.

Another part of me wanted to go easy on him, but I didn’t exactly know how to do that. I had deflowered many a maiden and I knew the initial pain of their penetration went away if you’re considerate enough. But that was a long time ago, and I spent more years going out of my way to increase that pain than easing it. I doubted Xander would be feeling anything but severe pain no matter what I did—so why bother? He was nothing but a warm body to me. A long repressed desire I could finally rid myself of.




It was my fault. I wasn’t thinking. Angel couldn’t have known, but I still wanted to blame him. Even I assumed I could handle his long, heavy erection inside of me again, that my cherry had been well and truly busted. It never occurred to me that She healed *everything*. Turned back the clock so that physically nothing happened.

Angel, it felt like, had torn me wide open. The discomfort I felt that night was a feather stroke compared to the lancing torture I was experiencing now. I was beginning to understand just how much pain she spared me from.

Angel must have realized I was not enjoying myself and he moved to drag his cock out of me. Only to pause in mid-motion when it elicited another cry from me. Oh God it hurt!

"Xander," Angel whispered, his voice edged with something not quite sympathetic, "I can’t stop. I…"

I don’t want to stop, he almost said, but didn’t.

Angel let his full weight smash into me. And he was still, soaking inside of me. I almost wished he would slam into me unheedingly. I might have been unconscious instead of having to endure the slow burning pain of his just being in me. Which shouldn’t have felt so damaging and unmerciful to my mind, but did.

I was a hairs breath from passing out and my erection was long gone, but I never told him to take it out of me—not that he would have.

Because if I couldn’t have the pleasure I wanted the pain Angel inflicted to become my world. Though to his credit, Angel didn’t make it the universe and alternate dimensions. I could forget everything. Losing my friends, losing Cordy, losing my purpose. My only concern was to keep myself from screaming out, begging for mercy.

When Angel finally started pounding in and out of me he tempered his thrusts at first—at first. Then he put his hands over my shoulders and started slamming into me, his pelvis slapping against my flesh, lewd and noisy, as he penetrated me with brutal lunges. Like he was striving for lower depths with every thrust. I buried my face in the cushion and chewed the fabric and waited until it was over.