Back To Your Heart
Joss is a very bad man.
Not that I’m telling you anything you don’t already know, that is. I think I would be perfectly happy if someone killed him and/or made him suffer painfully. I prefer the and. Damn it, I think I just realized why the gypsies restored Angel’s soul.
Maybe someone should ensoul Joss Whedon. Hey, that’s a good idea! In fact, it’s probably the only option in this case. The bastard wants to separate Buffy and Angel. Not only did he make them all suffer, but he also had the nerve to fuck with their minds. Not that I should care. In fact, I should be on a plane to Spain right now, maybe even Italy. It’s just that something Whistler said sparkled my interest. I feel sorry for the two of them. I’ve gone soft.
I never used to be like this. I can promise you that. I would rip the throats from the innocent and rejoice in their blood. I was terrible by human standards. I’ve even killed a few slayers. Well, more than a few. Besides, that really isn’t the point here, now is it? In fact, terrible doesn’t even begin to describe me. That, however, is another story.
Grabbing my bag from the compartment above me, I turned to leave the bus. Mortals were all around me. I could smell their blood. I stared at the old woman in front of me, hoping my glare would convince her to quit her gawking and scram. No such luck. That stupid old lady just couldn’t take a hint. She even started yapping ‘bout her god awful grandchildren. As if I gave a shit what the little snots made her for her birthday.
I pushed passed her and looked around for a good car. "Shit!" I swore venomously, under my breath. The Californians in this part of town had absolutely no taste in vehicles. Opting for the farthest from the bus terminal, I picked the lock of a new lime green bug with a hair pin. Making quick work of it, I hopped in, hot wired the damn thing and took off before anyone could even notice.
*****
I didn’t drive far, didn’t have to, before I found what I was looking for. I was looking for Angelus. I’d never met him as a demon, but I’ve heard stories. Sounds like my kinda guy, if you must know.
"Yo, Angelus! How’s it hanging?"
He looked up dispassionately and simply said, "Dominique, I’m in no mood to talk to you. I don’t know why you’re here, and frankly I don’t care. Get gone."
"Gee, Angel, that’s not a very nice way to talk to the person who taught you how to fight. Or dress." I smirked at the way he would have turned out left up to Whistler. No leather there.
"Dominique, as much as I appreciate your expert advice on how to shop for leather, nice jacket by the way, why are you here?"
"I thought you didn’t want to know."
"Well, now I do. So spill."
"I’m here to help. You and that Slayer belong together. I want to help make it right."
He snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, sure, Dominique. You want to help people. The only reason you helped me is because Whistler offered you a nice big fat paycheck for your trouble. When the money was gone you were outta there on the first flight that came in."
I shrugged indifferently and proceeded to sit on the tombstone beside him. "A girl’s gotta live, Angel. I’m not like you. I can’t stay in one place all the time. I take what I want and march to the beat of my own drum. I’m not human and I never will be. Never was, if ya wanna get all technical about it. Now, I just wanna do some good for a few days. That’s it, no self-righteous crusade, no white flag, peace-loving hippie crap. Just me helping you and your lady-love."
"You serious?"
"Like cancer."
"Well...alright. You see what you can do. My soul isn’t permanent, so I can’t be with her. I want her so much but...if we sleep together I become a demon again."
"Your soul is permanent. Problem solved. Next problem, please."
Shocked, he turned to Dominique and said, "Did you just say please?"
I shrugged and said, "What of it? I also said your soul was permanent."
"I was afraid I misheard you."
"Well, you didn’t."
"How...?"
"Jeannie possessed Willow and switched the spell around a bit. She made your soul permanent. We had coffee last week. She mentioned it was permanent. Next problem."
"Buffy will grow old and I won’t." Angel sighed heavily. "I just want to be with her, but I have to give her a chance at a normal life..."
"Her life will never be normal. And, if ya wanna go into it, never really has been. Not since the day she became a Slayer. Probably even a bit before. And, if it’ll make you feel better. Sometime in the future Willow or someone will make you human. Next problem."
"I...I can’t think of anymore."
"Good. Now hop in your car, drive to Sunnydale and make up with Buffy. If you don’t, I’ll send you there on the end of my boot. So scat."
He smiled at me and dashed off. "What a weirdo." I mumbled under my breath before walking back to my new car. "An emotional weirdo." I hopped in the vehicle and drove away. You never know, I may come back again. Don’t go shoveling dirt on me yet.
*****
"Buffy? What are you doing at my mansion?"
"Angel? I moved in here."
"Why?"
"Well...I found out about what my mom said to you, so I split. I couldn’t leave Sunnydale, so I just moved in here."
"You cleaned."
"Had to. I’m allergic to all the dust in this place."
Angel smiled and moved closer, until he was almost pushing her against the wall. "What are you doing?"
"Moving closer," said Angel with a grin.
"Angel," breathed Buffy, "we can’t. Your soul..."
"...is permanent," supplied Angel.
"Really?"
"Honest and truly." Buffy laughed and launched over the remaining distance into his waiting arms. She held on tight and refused to be removed. Not that Angel wanted her to be. They kissed hungrily and poured months of loneliness, pain, suffering, and desire into that one kiss.
When they separated, their hunger was far from sated. They kissed again as their passion rose and their desire increased. They moved as one to the bed and slowly lay down upon it. Angel sucked on Buffy’s neck while she traced his muscles with her nails. Their desire blinding them, they ripped off each other’s clothes.
With inhuman strength, Buffy flipped Angel over and forced him to let her kiss every inch of his chest. Not that he wasn’t willing. He then flipped her back over and proceeded to shred the remaining items of clothing on their bodies: Buffy’s underwear.
"Hey!" cried Buffy between pants, "That was expensive. The bra too. I got it at Victoria’s Secret. You owe me new underwear!"
"Don’t worry, I’ll buy you new ones. I’ll buy you several. And if you’re good, I’ll give you an experience in the changing room that you’ll never forget."
"Mmmm," Buffy said with a laugh. Then they looked into the other’s eyes.
One look told them that the time for fun and games was over. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he entered her and paused to allow her time to get used to him. When it became too much, he began to thrust, slowly at first, then rising as their passion increased in intensity.
"Please..." moaned Buffy. Angel lunged forward and latched on to her neck with his fangs. She hadn’t even noticed that he had changed. The second her blood hit his mouth they came together and he made her his.
Exhausted, the Slayer and her lover slept.
*****
"I never told you his soul was permanent, Dominique."
"So? It seemed like a good idea at the time, Genie Girl. Besides, if you had seen him all mopey you’d have done the same thing."
"True, but I wouldn’t have been lying."
"What?"
"You heard me. Angel's soul *is* permanent. I just never told you."
"You evil girl."
"Well, you never asked. When did I ever hear you say, 'Janelle, is
Angel's soul permanent?' I'd have told you, you know."
"Are you serious?"
"Like cancer."
The End