“DEMON’S DISCOVERY”
 

SUMMARY: Buffy has been gone from Sunnydale for two years. Her friends and family haven’t been the only ones to miss her...so has Angelus. What are his thoughts when he finds her in a dance club? AUTHOR’S NOTES: This story, and the following ones, are set in my alternate universe where Angel doesn’t try to destroy the world yet he doesn’t get his soul back. So the story roughly takes place after INNOCENCE but PASSION and the rest of it doesn’t take place in my world. RATING: PG-13. I know this is adult fiction but I gotta set a mood here--patience! DISCLAIMERS: I don’t own any of the BTVS characters (as much as I would love to) and they all belong to Joss and the WB. I am writing for free, so the powers that be--don’t sue! PS. For each of my chapters I am going to have the lyrics of a song that not only do I really like, but that I also feel summarizes the tone of the story or just plain summarizes. For this chapter I used “Zero” by The Smashing Pumpkins from the album Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. If you don’t have it, get it! Feedback: CHANDRA1C@aol.com

             my reflection, dirty mirror
             there’s no connection to myself
             i’m your lover, i’m your zero
             i’m the face in your dreams of glass
             so save your prayers
             for when we’re really gonna need ‘em
             throw out your cares and fly
             wanna go for a ride?

             she’s the one for me
             she’s all i really need
             cause she’s the one for me
             emptiness is loneliness, and loneliness is cleanliness
             and cleanliness is godliness, and god is empty just like me
             intoxicated with the madness, i’m in love with my sadness
             bullshit fakers, enchanted kingdoms
             the fashion victims chew their charcoal teeth
             i never let on, that i was on a sinking ship
             i never let on that i was down
             you blame yourself, for what you can’t ignore
             you blame yourself for wanting more
             she’s the one for me
             she’s all i really need
             she’s the one for me
             she’s my one and only

             Angelus stood in the shadows, melting in the background.

             Silent and alert.  And watching.

             Always watching her.

             The pulsating throb of the music that beat into his ears and filled his
             body was but a dull mockery of what he felt within when he looked out
             over the crowd and saw her.  Her scent and taste was irrevocably stamped
             into his senses.  There was not one piece of her that he, Angelus, had
             not touched, had not tasted, had not taken unforgettable ecstasy in.

             When the demon retook possession of his body, Angelus took immense
             pleasure in tormenting Buffy.  He stalked her, her friends, and attacked
             any boys who she showed the slightest interest in.  The only reason why
             they never died was because Buffy was always there to stop him.  She
             couldn’t kill him, so she kept a close watch on him and made sure he
             could never kill her pathetic dates or any other innocents.

             The Slayer always devoted to her duties, regardless of personal cost.

             He knew how bitterly painful it was for her to encounter him.  He looked
             like Angel, sounded like Angel, but he was no angel.

             While being unable to kill him, Buffy did receive a certain comfort from
             containing him, using that comfort to assuage the disappointment within
             for being unable to look past his physical form and fulfill her
             duty.  Night after night, she held the upper hand because she prevented
             him from doing what his nature required him to do.

             Though he had rejoined his vampire fold, he failed to rise to the
             proportions of past glory because of the strength and skill of the
             Slayer.  It was inevitable, he being an agent of evil and all, to always
             be thwarted in the fight of the undead versus the living.

             Or so he allowed Buffy to think.

             While a kill was always pleasurable, it was the battle with the Slayer
             that made his passions sing.  The rough physical contact between them
             only whetted his appetite for her.  He was able to throw, slap, punch,
             and kick her and not only could she take it, she would always come back
             for more.

             His intentions were never to kill her, at least not yet, but to make her
             suffer.  She needed to suffer for making him her pathetic pet when he had
             a soul.

             She needed to suffer simply because he wished it.  And he being Angelus,
             he made sure she underwent much suffering.  But as she suffered so did
             he, for she became his obsession; his every thought consisted of Buffy.
             His torments were by no means confined to the physical pain of their
             nightly matches.  No, Buffy could take the pain of the body, it was her
             heart that was vulnerable.

             Especially to him.

             She loved him with every fiber of her being in a way that even she could
             not understand, but that he understood all too clearly.  In fact, he
             taunted her with it at every turn.  She was allowed no escape from her
             weakness.

             How he had reveled in it!  Her agony was his ambrosia.  Every wince,
             every tear, every sob---all for him.

             Buffy wanted him so much to be like Angel, the one she had loved and
             lost.

             And she despised herself for being drawn to him, Angelus, the one she was
             suppose to hate.

             Hate.  What a fickle and undeniably perverse emotion.

             Oh if he ravaged Sunnydale, killing every mortal in his path, Buffy would
             have forced herself to try to kill him and he knew it.  As joyful as the
             carnage would have been, he yawned at the idea.  Been there, done
             that.  Besides, mass destruction would make his task of seducing the
             Slayer a bit difficult.

             And to top it all off, that’s what she, the Watcher, and her brat pack
             would have expected of him.  Now why should he do what was expected of
             him? No, the way to throw Buffy off balance and keep her further in his
             grip was to keep from killing.  At least in Sunnydale.

             So he had revised his plans and went from stalking to a less-threatening
             method.  He went underground so to speak, and then emerged a few weeks
             later at The Bronze.  When he saw Buffy with any male, he had immediately
             felt murderous, but he masterfully suppressed his rage.  The majority of
             the times that night he ignored her, but eventually they spoke.

             After their uneasy truce, he began showing up at the cemetery while she
             patrolled.  A couple of times he even helped her when the fight got too
             thick with vampires.  Spike and Druscilla sure as hell didn’t appreciate
             that, but he was able to pacify them with promises of the Slayer’s
             death.  Spike and Dru.  Damn, he fucked up, but fucked up good with those
             two!

             Thinking past that unsavory situation, Angelus remembered how he
             painstakingly began to ease Buffy’s guard down.   He began entering her
             home in no set pattern.  Sometimes he’d climb into the window in her room
             and wait for her to come in.  Other times he’d use the front door and
             wait in the quaint living room with her clueless mother and chit-chat
             about how she really was benefiting from being tutored in history.

             Just thinking about her reaction to finding him there brought a twinkle
             to his old Irish eyes.  Buffy tried to bluff that she felt no fear or
             anxiety over his presence in her home (why would she fear him when she
             could take him out at any time?) but she never fooled him.

             Her fear manifested itself in many ways that were simple for a creature
             such as himself to easily detect.  The way she fidgeted as she sat on her
             bed or the sofa, the way her covertly watched him, the way her life’s
             blood would accelerate through her body, causing the vein on her neck to
             pulse rapidly, were all too telling signs of her wariness.

             Buffy had had every right to be wary of him.  Occasionally, every demonic
             impulse of his demanded that he drain the blood out of her, for she was a
             human and he a vampire.  Little did she know that it was his obsessive
             lust that kept her alive during those moments.

             It was most strongly at these times that Buffy lulled herself into
             believing that maybe he was more Angel than Angelus.

             Oh how he loved disabusing her of that notion!  Even so, she couldn’t
             help but be drawn to him, Angelus.

             Over the course of a few months, he had carefully laid the groundwork for
             his seduction of the Slayer.  She gave herself to Angel once before and
             it cost him his worthless soul.  It wouldn’t be easy to seduce her, this
             he accepted.  Eventually he knew that it would be done.  When she
             surrendered herself to him, Angelus, he would possess Buffy for
             eternity.  With her knowingly being the mistress of a demon, his control
             over her physically and mentally would be undeniable to all.

             In time his plans became realized.  Buffy the Vampire Slayer became the
             slave of a vampire.  The inner torment she underwent was pure sweetness
             for him.  She felt shame and hatred for allowing him into her and for
             allowing him to treat her gently or harshly dependent on his whim, but in
             the end she always crawled into his bed.  Just remembering every lustful,
             passionate moment between them made him so hard that it bordered on pain.
 

             Pain.

             A wicked grin twisted his sensuous lips.  He taught Buffy numerous
             things, including to crave the pain almost as much as the pleasure.  He
             had molded the Slayer to be the perfect concubine.  His concubine.

             Things could have continued the way they were for all eternity as far as
             he was concerned.  In all his two and a half centuries Angelus had never
             encountered anyone who could satisfy every dark and twisted desire of his
             like Buffy could.  His kind were incapable of feeling human love, but he
             felt the closest emotion to it:  passion.

             His passion for Buffy consumed him.  Nothing could satisfy his
             ever-present hunger for her.  In his brilliant quest to enslave her, he
             hadn’t counted on also becoming her slave.  He had thought that once he
             had Buffy, his obsession for her would fade, eventually to
             disappear.  Then he would allow Druscilla or Spike to kill her.  Everyone
             would be happy:  his lust would be satisfied and he wouldn’t be in
             betrayal of his kind plus the Slayer would be dead.

             Problem was that he didn’t want to see Buffy laying dead at his
             feet.  How could he keep her and keep his fold from eventually seeing
             through his excuses?  At the time he was the most powerful among them,
             but Spike’s infirmary wouldn’t be permanent and he had a real strong itch
             to kill Buffy, what was Angelus to do?

             Unfortuately his hand became forced one night.  The choice between Buffy
             and his own needed to be made.  That night Angelus took a step that would
             never be forgotten by either human or undead.  He committed the
             unpardonable crime of destroying his own kind to save her, a Slayer.

             His Slayer.

             Did she ever recognize the significance of his sacrifice?  No.  The next
             day his faithless bitch ran.  She left Sunnydale and never looked back.

             Moving through the crowd, Angelus’ gaze never left sight of Buffy.  He
             had followed her to this club from her apartment building.  It was sheer
             chance that he even saw her leave her building.  He had followed a
             questionable lead that placed her in the area, but he didn’t really
             expect to find her here in this city.

             At first he couldn’t believe that it was her.  But he didn’t doubt the
             way his body reacted to her sight.  It was as if all this time without
             her, he had been incomplete.  Upon seeing her he felt whole, his primal
             urges recognized her as his mate.  Several times he was tempted to seize
             her off the streets, but each time he forced his impulses down.  There
             was too high of a chance that she could elude him.  No, he’d wait until
             she went home.

             His wintry gaze narrowed as he watched the young man dancing with Buffy
             grab her hips and pull her close.  Pure menace radiated from Angelus,
             causing several girls who were approaching him to scatter away.  From the
             way Buffy’s body suddenly tensed, it seemed she also sensed danger.

             Good.  An evil look of satisfaction transformed his face to one of unholy
             beauty.  She had every reason in the world to feel fear.  He hoped she
             lived and breathed in fear.

             Of him.

             Of the night when her time of existing without him ended.

             His eyes followed her hasty exit out of the club.  Satisfaction filled
             his cold heart with its’ special warmth.  Casually strolling through the
             crush of humanity, he felt a twinge of hunger.  No, he’d go a little
             thirsty tonight.  Besides he had a different thirst to slake with the
             Slayer.  Afterall, it had taken him two years to find her.  Why hold off
             the joyful reunion any longer than necessary?

             Reaching outside, his keen vampire gaze saw she in a cab a mile up the
             road.  “Enjoy this time while you can, lover, because it’s your last
             moments alone.”  And just like that, he melted into the night.

             And unbeknownst to Buffy, back into her life.