Summary: Angelus meets a slayer.
23 march 1882
Grossglockner, Austria
He watched her with amusement as she moved through the cemetery. Why she had to dress so ridiculous, he’d never understand. Men’s clothes weren’t meant for young girls, but still it gave her a certain charm for breaking the rules. The long pants, her legs showing, to the amazement of the local women, who treated her like a whore. A large shirt, two sizes larger then her own body, was stuffed in her pants. She always wore boots, leather boots, the only things she seemed to have beautiful to wear, her blond hair tied into a ponytail, baring one single cross at her neck. That was the little slayer that followed him like a curse through Europe. Darla always laughed when he told her how she dressed and fought.
"She’s just a child. Why don’t you just kill her?" she asked him one night, while they were in England.
"She amuses me," he told her, ignoring her usual taunting when it came to women. Like Drusilla, she had laughed so much of his obsession for her, even if she was the one to point her out. And now
his beloved Dru had made herself a mate, a destructive hoodlum named William.
The Hungarian girl from Gyor was his only fun, his distraction. His lair became a circle of tension for power and love. It was obvious Darla disliked Dru and her insanity exasperated her, finding pleasure in torturing her about her dead family. And William was planing to leave him and take Dru with him. Not like she would ever leave his side.
Tonight, the 16-year-old slayer was fighting two of his best minions. With a few fast moves they where history. He watched her intensely. Her wild brown eyes looking around the cemetery for any other movement. He could smell her blood and her skin, he knew she would taste and smell like lilies. Her image was perfect in the cold winter night, she seemed like a ghost that died in a war, and now rose from her grave for vengeance. She was pure like a holly virgin and more powerful then the four slayers he had met over the years. He knew how lonely she was, she had no friends, except for her watcher. The stuck up Englishman sent by the Watchers Council to take care of the slayer. He was young, and it surprised him, usually the watchers were old, this one must have earned his position somehow.
He snapped out of his thoughts as she moved towards the gates of the cemetery. He followed quietly, his figure lost in the pale light and the shadows of the oak trees that surrounded the resting bodies of the nearly departed. She moved towards the small house she and her watcher were living in, a barrack in the outskirts of town. She arranged her clothes and hair before knocking on the door. He thought it was strange, but chose to ignore it. The Englishman, in his late twenties opened the door and welcomed her with a smile.
"How was hunting?" he asked letting her pass through the door. The house was old as it was, only two beds, a table and two lockers filled the small cottage, unlike the houses and lairs Angelus and his sire where use to. Once their ‘family’ enlarged, Darla got use to the idea of not attending the balls or her smooth foreplay with her victims.
"Two vampires in the cemetery down the street. Three in the Heimlish up the hill," she said, her Hungarian accent made itself present.
"They seem to have more interest in the noble, lately," he said placing some food in front of her. She didn’t touch it. "Aren’t you hungry?" he asked when he saw she didn’t eat one bite. "You need your strength."
"The baker’s wife gave me something to eat while I was heading towards the Heimlish," she smiled weakly. The middle age woman, was the only one who seemed to pity her or to understand her. Angelus knew the woman saw her hunting one night, while she was taking flowers to her dead child’s grave. He heard how she refereed to her as ‘engel der menshhait’, the angel of humanity.
"You should get some rest," the watcher told her. She motioned for him to turn as she undressed. His back turned, she began taking off her shirt in slow moves. Angelus watched with anticipation as she revealed her flesh. Once she was naked she looked with hesitation at her watcher, as something had crossed her mind, but then it was stomped back down. She quickly pulled her nightgown over her head. "Done?" the Englishman asked, the girl let out an approving sound. "Irma, the town’s people are going to have some sort of ball tomorrow night. I was thinking you should go," her face lighten up, he knew how lonely she felt, her violent sobs woke him up at night. "Have some fun for once," he smiled when he saw her reaction.
"But... I have no dress," she remembered, her features turning into sadness.
"I...uhhh, I bought you one when you were out hunting."
She jumped up and hugged him, their bodies pressed against each other. The watcher closed his eyes trying to block out the feelings she awakened in him.
Angelus let out a mock like smile and moved away from the window. He got the perfect plan, though it would spoil the fun he had with the slayer, another would come, maybe not as fragile and naive as this one, but still they were like a plague for his kind, one that had no cure. Their blood was like a thick reminder that humanity would always have a champion, weak, strong, but it would always exist. Some called their blood sacred, baring the fight over the centuries, for him it was only a mockery, which the gods played against his kind. He wrapped the coat around his waste and walked faster into the night.
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She walked quickly towards the hall, her long dress stroking the dust as she moved on the dry land. Rain hadn’t fallen for a few days now, but the cloudy sky announced it would rain tonight, she hoped not before she reached the ball. Angelus watched her moves. She entered the old house breathing hard. She arranged her dress wiping away the dust. Green suited her, he thought while he moved inside, making sure he was out of her sight. All heads turned as she walked in. She could hear laughter, but she stepped in. The noble girls had dresses much more sophisticated then the one she was wearing. She thought she had the prettiest gown when her watcher and the baker’s wife complimented her, but now, Angelus could see how bad she felt. She still walked in, while others stared at her and whispered.
"She certainly looks more respectable," one man commented to his friend. "But that doesn’t change what she is."
"She lives with a man, a respectable Englishman down the hill, in a house with one room. She must have charmed him," a woman told her companion.
"They’re not even married. What a shame," an older woman told her daughter.
"She’s only good for one thing that’s for sure," a man said to his wife, a smile on his face. She tried ignoring them, but couldn’t help but hear their comments. A dance started. Angelus stepped out of the crowd and began walking towards her. He knew she wouldn’t kill him in the middle of the ball. The girls smiled from behind their fans at him. He lowered his head gracefully in front of them. He would convince one to follow him outside.
"Dance with me," he told her. She was startled to see him there. "Surprised?" he asked, a grin crossing his face. She damned herself for leaving her cross at the house. He pulled her closer so he could whisper in her ear. "How do you like it? Been treated like a whore?" he asked, her eyes went wide with despair. "You’ll die tonight, slayer," he whispered. She pulled away and ran out. The rain began poring from the sky as she left the hall. Angelus followed, he wasn’t about to give her the easy way out, a simple death. He let her think she was safe.
She ran, the feeling of been followed never leaving her mind. Why didn’t she stay at the ball, where he couldn’t touch her because of all the people? Maybe because she had a bad feeling that even if she’d scream in pain, the people would just watch her die, laughing at her poor attempts to struggle for her life, in the vampire’s embrace. The water turned to puddles, mixing with the dust of the dry land. She tripped and fell, her green dress turning to a dark shade. Tears began flowing from her eyes as she rose from the ground, her beautiful hair sticking to her head. She looked behind and found nothing. Still she knew he would be out there, watching her. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as she began to run towards the cottage down the hill.
"Charles! Charles!" she knocked hard on the door almost breaking it. The watcher opened, looking startled at the sight of the soaked, dirty slayer.
"What happened?" he asked letting her in.
"Angelus," she simply said and crouched near her bed, holding her legs under her chin. A moment of total silence. She looked blankly at the wooden floor. "They hated me," she said in a low voice.
"That’s not true," he said sitting next to her on the floor. He looked at her. "Your dress is all dirty."
"They didn’t even talk to me. They treated me like-like... a whore," tears began falling from her eyes. After a moment of hesitation, he pulled her in his lap, her head under his chin.
"They don’t know you. You’re a beautiful, strong, young girl," he said rubbing her back.
"You think I’m beautiful?" she asked between sobs. Their faces inches away. He leaned down and kissed her. Her sobs stopped as their kiss deepened. He pulled her closer, their upper bodies pressed against each other. They broke the kiss. Irma blushed slightly. She stood up and began removing her dress.
He stood up and turned his back. She came from behind, pressing her half naked body to the soft material of his shirt. She closed her eyes at the comfort that feeling brought to her. Her hands pressed on his chest. He covered them with his own. He turned and watched as she opened her eyes looking full of hope.
"Are you sure?" he asked. She nodded dropping her dress to the floor. She stood there naked in front of him. He hugged her close to him as he began kissing her long.
Angelus looked surprised at them. A watcher and a slayer, lovers? That would change a few things, but still his mind was made up, as he watched their bodies entangle on the small bed, as the slayer lost her innocence.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Pain would always be there, in every soul, lucky for him he didn’t own anything like that. In his situation, a conscience was the last thing he would need. He walked in front of the window watching the lovers resting tranquil in the bed covered in pale, white sheets, sleeping, her hand holding him close, with the fear of losing him. The rain had stopped leaving the land soft.
Her eyelids flew open at the sound of rocks crashing into wood. She looked around and found nothing. She looked down at her lover and smiled, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. She heard the sound again and realized it was coming from outside. She grabbed a staked and put a sheet around herself, making sure she didn’t wake her sleeping watcher.
"I love you," she whispered in his ear. She didn’t understand why she had to tell him now. Only after she opened the door she realized she had the feeling she would die tonight. She looked back one more time, before stepping outside, her feet reaching the soft ground. She walked towards the back of the house, her stake ready to kill anything that might attack. Angelus jumped her from behind, one hand around her neck, the other taking the stake from her hand. His lips nuzzled on her neck, before his fangs entered her neck. A low cry escaped her throat. She tried to struggle, but as much has she did, his fangs would pierce deeper into her neck, wounding her flesh. She stopped her struggle, tired of the constant fight for survival, where only the strong remained. At that moment she knew she was weak. A flash of the ball room crossed her mind, the laughter, becoming unbearable. Angelus bit on his wrist and forced her to drink. Before the darkness took her, she saw one last image. Her naked lover, sleeping covered in sheets, a weak smile crossed her face as her body felt to the ground.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The watcher woke up from his nightmare. A black hooded creature had taken the slayer into the depths of an abyss he could not reach. A sheen of sweat covered his body and a chill went up his spine when he saw the place besides him was empty. She pulled a pair of pants on and walked outside.
"Irma!" he yelled looking around. He was relieved when he saw her sitting in the swing he had made for her in the back garden. A sheet covered her body, her hand clutching to the side of the swing. He closed his eyes and sighed. He moved towards the oak tree. "You scared me," he told her, but then saw the wound at the side of her neck. Tears began flowing without will from his eyes as he watched blankly her naked body. Suddenly she jumped on him, her vampire features showing. More tears began flowing from his eyes as he pushed her into a branch. A look of agony crossed her face, her features turning human, and her lips formed one single word, why?, as her body collapsed in a million threads of dust. The watcher sank to his knees crying hysterically watching the dust rise in the cold wind after the storm. Angelus smiled at his pain and walked away. Another would come and another and another, and he would always be there to see them suffer and die in agony.
End
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