Title: Wolf Pack
Chapter Title: The Chase
Author: Baby Blues
Disclaimer: Not mine, but the story is.
Summary: Buffy catches Angelus' eyes when out in one of her nightly runs. A chase between the werewolf princess and the lone wolf begins beneath their Mother Moon.
Dedication: To Nora Roberts, for all her heartbreakingly romantic stories that depresses me. Yet, I still manage to love and enjoy them . . . I'm so weird.
~Buffy: Who are you?
~Angelus: Your nightmare . . . And your dream . . .
' . . . but let's do it for the survival of the pack . . . '
He just had to say that.
The other girls had all decided that they were going to fight the Bitch Dance. Even her mother was going to participate, and she was usually so diplomatic and peaceful.
They had told Buffy to go for it, urged her to do it for the pack and the family. So Buffy grudgingly agreed. After all, she would do anything for the clan. It was her life, her kin, and her blood. Everything was for the pack.
She feared being someone's mate. To have that responsibility of being owned by someone as his partner for the rest of her existence. It sounded . . . too much of a duty and an obligation to deal with. Not to mention the fact that she wasn't what you would call an 'Experienced Genius' of any kind when considering and listing all of her 'sexual' encounters in her twenty-year history.
In the past, she had exactly two very ~innocent~ sexual rendezvous with exactly two men. First it was with Xander with his sudden crush on her when they were ten, and then there was Spike.
The pack had always believed, from the moment they found out that they were together, that Buffy would end up with Spike. After all, the two of them were very close, and not to mention the never ending flirting and stolen kisses gave much away. And at that time, Buffy fooled herself into believing she was in love with him too.
She had worshiped the ground he walked on and had always been by his side when all their friends were against him. Simple as that. But later on, realization dawned on her. She admired him and the little things she noticed about him. Like the way he would tousle his peroxide blond hair with gel in the morning while humming Elvis Presley songs, or the way his thick British accent rolled off his tongue like velvet whenever he wanted to seduce you, or the way he always managed to burn a few more holes on his leather jacket whenever he dropped a burning cigarette from between his lips.
But she didn't love him.
And when Buffy had told him that, Spike went ballistic, convincing himself, as well as Buffy and the others, that she was just a little lost and that she didn't know what she was talking about. Even now he continues to delude himself that she was going to change her mind anytime now.
And that delusion still continues . . .
Don't get her wrong, she loves him in her own way, but she doesn't love him as she would to a mate. She saw him as a close brother who would protect her from anything and everything, or even as best friend she could usually count on, but not in any other way.
Buffy morphed slowly the following night, relishing the way her body changed, the way her bones seem to crack as she fell on all her fours, and how the twist of pain she felt in her stomach felt like a high. The change was like a drug . . . and what took after the change was ecstasy, the reason why werewolves alike changed in the first place. The feeling of freedom coursed through the veins of all wolves, it was in their nature, especially hers.
As usual, Joyce opened the back door for her, praying to he Moon Goddess that her baby would be protected in the darkness of the first night of the Thunder Moon. It was easy to keep away from the transformation during the first two nights of the moon cycle, but by the third night, all werewolves instinctively morphed. For now, Joyce just wanted a quiet night alone.
Buffy, once again, disappeared in the haven of the woods of Sunnydale. An owl hooted in the distance and the rustle of the leaves were reasonably loud to her ears. Howls of other wolves filled the night air, and Buffy ran faster, her white coat as bright and as mysterious as the moon that shone above her.
Angelus licked his face, enjoying the taste of coppery blood that remained on his tongue. He licked his paw, completely sated from his meal.
The rabbit that was once alive and well was now ripped viciously apart by his teeth and claws on the ground. The only remains were its head, the eyes staring back at him blankly, its bones, completely clean of the meat, and the fur, stained with sweet red blood. Everything else had been eaten with gratification.
It was good to hunt and kill. It was a superb sensation: to slash and to lacerate. And since he couldn't kill as a human, he could kill as an animal. What better way to get away from charges of murder? Even if they were only small rodents he was killing. The feeling was both pleasant and quite disturbing.
Him and Gunn had arrived at the small town of Sunnydale just that morning. They had been fidgety and agitated as they entered the small hotel of the small community. They were too eager to study and examine their new surroundings of the woods of Sunnydale. After all, they had been living in an urban city most of their lives. The rural scene was a huge change.
When their Mother Moon finally came out, so did the two of them. They had felt the presence of two other male wolves inside the hotel, but it didn't matter. Neither of them had run into the other lone wolves. So as soon as night came, the two friends parted ways to run into the woods on their own.
Angelus looked up, satisfied and content with his midnight kill in the woods.
And that was when he spotted her, running like the wind across his vision. Her eyes were a blazed with the pure exhilaration . . . feral and uncontrollable, she ran . . . a beautiful apparition of a werewolf sprinting in the night with complete abandon . . .
And Angelus ran after her.
Buffy had sensed him the moment she ran past him. He was dangerous and sleek. She could tell from the way he continued to pursue her no matter how many times she faked a turn or disappeared beneath the shadows.
She felt her blood sing as he neared, and she ran faster, afraid of the way her blood was boiling with warmth at the thrilling chase.
She jumped over a fallen log, the smell of rotting bark flowing through her nostrils with its pungent odor. The male wolf was closely behind her, not showing any hint of giving up the chase he had began.
Angelus studied her from behind, admiring the shiny white coat and the way she ran, so lustrous and powerful. The epitome of everything a werewolf should be, magnificent and mystifying, robust and exquisite.
Angelus felt a growl erupt from his throat as he ran faster.
Buffy knew the chase was not hers to win when the wolf gained distance. She felt fear run through her body as she realized the many possibilities that could occur when he caught her. A fight could erupt, or the instinctive pull of sexual needs and wants. Anything could happen. Especially with this particular male.
Angelus leaped in the air and pounced on her.
A pitiful whimper reached his ears, worrying him for moment. But then she morphed back into her human form, causing his concern to fade away for the moment. She was stunning, her golden nude body shining with light perspiration as her chest rose and fell from her labored breathing. Her eyes stared up at him with a sense of innocence and animalistic roughness, a lovely mixture for a lovely young woman.
She was superb, a whole new step from the women he was usually seen with. Typically, he was with older women with overly done makeup and hair, skimpy clothes, and not a whole lotta brain. But this one . . . she was young, naturally beautiful . . . and intelligent. He could tell just from the way she looked at him. It was written clearly in her eyes.
Their eyes met and locked, stormy blue eyes met midnight black. And they could only stare at each other as the world stopped around them.
His coat was glossy and black, a large contrast from her white coat. He morphed into his human form and she continued to stare at him, barely noticing that he was naked and between her legs.
He was handsome, but the word did no justice to how completely beautiful he was: dark brown hair, with a dark set of eyes, and an all around gorgeous face.
"Who are you?" Buffy demanded, annoyed even though she was truly scared shitless.
Angelus smirked and rubbed his hard cock against her sex. She gasped, her eyes widening as a tornado of emotions washed through her face, the blue color of her eyes changing from one shade to another.
"You're nightmare," he whispered huskily, continuing his slow assault on her and wanting her to remember him, to engrave this memory in her mind as it did to his already, "and your dream."
Buffy's sense of humor decided to hide her fear and her arousal. "Sounds like the worst pick up line I've ever heard."
He had the heart to chuckle, making her frown with irritation. "The name's Angelus," he said, a smirk still playing on his lips. "And you better remember it," he said in her ear, his warm breath tickling her neck, "Cause you'll be screaming it soon enough."
Angelus brought down his lips and smashed it against her own, swallowing her sudden yelp of surprise as he held back a groan from the smell of her musky scent all around them. She felt so soft beneath him, so fragile and tender, yet strong and vivacious.
With his last ounce of will power, he pulled away from her, morphing back to wolf form before disappearing into the night. He didn't want to leave her, but it was his nature to be mysterious. It was more of an intuition than a chosen act. Yet his last thoughts remained on the naked werewolf he had left out in the woods.
Continued to Chapter 6: The Warning
Back to Chapter 4: The Beginning