False Pretences
It's one of my favourite episodes. In fact, it's my favourite because we discover that Angel is a vampire. Here is my offering for this week's episode Angel for
fantas_magoria
Written from Angel's point of view. Over 3000 words.
Enjoy.
False Pretences
Author: Ares
Disclaimer. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, and M.E.
Direct quotes from the transcript, Angel, have been used.
A huge thank you, librarian2003
Your advice and support has been invaluable into making this a much improved story.
Feedback? Yes please.
The episode Angel
Summary: Angel’s point of view.
I know why I’m stalking the slayer. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. She can handle herself in a fight, I know that, but I’m afraid. I’m scared that I’m going lose her when I hardly know her, or she me. I’m frightened that this one girl, this amazing child, will be taken away from me forever, and believe me, eternity is long enough. Buffy’s moments on Earth will be brief, a mere spark against the years that I’ve endured, and will endure. Surely, I can prolong the inevitable, and maybe, just maybe, her spark will light up my dismal existence for a little while yet. She shines like a beacon, calling me, enticing the demon in me, and the man.
Buffy stops and turns. Her presence has indeed enticed the demons. There are three, and I hesitate. I fall back into Watcher mode. That’s what they do, watch. Even when their charge is in danger the Watchers look on and scribble away in their journals. Buffy’s new Watcher, Rupert Giles, he’s different, I think. I bet he’s a hands-on kind of guy. The Council won’t like that.
Suddenly, Buffy’s in trouble. I leap in. Distracted, I’m not much use. I get slashed in the ribs. And when did I start to hand out quips in a fight? Good dogs don’t bite! Where did that come from?
We race along the streets of Sunnydale, Buffy leading me towards her house. The vampires are gaining fast. Buffy’s quick. I’m careful not to match her speed, I lag behind a little. As we pound up her path I can see an obstacle looming. I won’t be able to enter her home. She’ll find out in five seconds what I am. Buffy unlocks the door and, with me at her back, says, “Get in. Come on!” It’s all I need. We’re safe inside.
I tell her that vampires can’t enter a home without an invitation, adding to the lie that I’m human. Buffy leads me to the kitchen and asks me to take off my jacket and shirt. She wants to administer first aid. Will her fingers find my flesh too cool? Will she notice my unearthly pallor? I disrobe and hold my unnecessary breath.
Instead, Buffy says, “Nice tattoo.”
I’m speechless. I’d forgotten about the ink on my back. If Buffy mentions the tattoo to her Watcher he’ll know who I am.
Buffy continues to ask me questions. I do my best to sound enigmatic. I blow the man of mystery when I admit that I may like her. Buffy’s smile is worth it, though, and I can’t help but smile back. It’s been a long time since I’ve flirted with a girl, and it’s nice. All of a sudden Buffy rushes out of the kitchen when she hears the front door open. It’s her mother. Knowing how the situation will look to a protective mother of a teenage girl, I dress and go and show myself.
Mrs Summers is polite but cool. Buffy babbles something about me being a first year student at the community college. Do I look that young? I don’t think Buffy’s mother believes her daughter, either. On her way up the stairs, Mrs Summers’ unspoken orders are picked up by her daughter.
I’m shown the door, and Buffy calls out, “Good night! We’ll hook up soon and do that study thing,” before shutting it with me still inside.
I feel like a naughty school boy as we sneak upstairs and into Buffy’s bedroom. It’s pretty. I like it, but not the mirror. I stand out of reflection range as she insists I stay the night. Buffy offers me the bed. I opt for the floor, saying I’ve had worse. It’s settled. I look out the window while Buffy changes into her night clothes. The temptation to peek over my shoulder pulls at me. I peer through the blinds to chase away my unchaste thoughts.
Buffy continues to interrogate me. Asking about my parents has me admitting they’re dead. It pains me to think of how they died. I try to keep my voice even.
Buffy, if anything, is persistent. She wants to know if it was vampires. I turn to face her. She’s finished dressing and is close. She smells so good.
I stutter. “I-it was” me, I want to admit, my guilt still as raw as if it had been yesterday.
Buffy’s voice is gentle when she tells me she is sorry, and I tell her it was a long time ago. At least that isn’t a lie. She asks me if I’m in it for the vengeance so I change the subject.
“Y-you even look pretty when you go to sleep.” Nice one, Angel. Suave, you’re not.
She’s adorable. She dismisses my compliment with a remark about how she looks when she wakes up in the morning. We settle down, me on the floor with a comforter, Buffy in her bed. She surprises me when she asks me if I snore. As clueless as I can be, I know when she’s fishing for information. She wants to know if I have a girlfriend.
“I don’t know. It’s been a long time since anybody’s been in a position to let me know,” I reply.
I turn to look at her. I’m rewarded with another one of her smiles. I lie there listening to the sound of her heart. It slows and I know she’s asleep. I don’t want to stir. I don’t want to disturb her. I gaze up at her sleeping face. She’s beautiful, and I commit her to memory. It’s something that I can do. I lie there for hours just staring at her. I wouldn’t move for all the tea in China. I cannot believe that I’m inside the slayer’s house, in her bedroom. Me, a vampire, the former Scourge of Europe, safe in the bosom of the slayer’s home. My thoughts are in a spin. I have to remind myself that I’m here under false pretences. Buffy thinks I’m an ordinary guy, and like one of her ordinary guys, I need protecting.
I wonder what I am going to do in the morning.
+++
The day has passed. It was interesting. I didn’t rise in the morning. I pretended to sleep as Buffy tip toed around me, getting ready for school. Besides, the bed protected me from the sun shining through the window. When she was gone I tidied up her room, first closing the blinds to allow me freedom of movement. I rifled through her books and found one I thought I’d like. I was reading when I heard her mother moving down the hall. I hid in Buffy’s wardrobe when Mrs Summers entered her daughter’s room. I think she was surprised the room was tidy, but it didn’t stop her from dusting and rearranging the things in Buffy’s room.
+++
Buffy has brought me food. In a plastic bag. I stare at it not knowing what to say to her. Food no longer appeals to me and if it did, the mash inside the bag is quite off-putting. She asks me what I did all day. When I say I did a little reading Buffy gets all weird. She stammers and stutters something about her diary and hunk and A is for Achmed before I realise why.
I tell her that she can relax. It was her mother that moved her diary. Buffy’s body temperature rises. She is blushing, embarrassed.
Buffy finds something fascinating on the floor to look at. “Oh.”
I’m attracted to Buffy. Who wouldn’t be? She is smart, beautiful, and has a kind heart. But I know that I have no right to her heart. I have to put a stop to whatever it is that is growing between us, even though my heart is screaming for me not to. I confess how much I want to kiss her, and before I know it she is asking me to kiss her, at least that is what I tell myself. I try my hardest to do the right thing. I let her know I’m older than her (if only she knew) and that I should go. We kiss, and to my astonishment, we kiss again. I want this to go on forever. I feel safe, warm for the first time in decades, and more importantly, loved, and my heart is soaring. It is indescribable, this magic, this wondrous sensation. I want it never to stop. I’m like a starving man at a banquet, I can’t get enough.
If kissing Buffy almost brings me to my knees, what would making love to her be like? Suddenly, it’s all I want to do.
Our lips meet again, only this time I feel myself change. I panic and pull back and look away. I have excellent control, usually. Have my emotions carried me away, making me react to Buffy’s closeness like a love-sick school boy who can’t keep it in his pants? Or is it my demon, reminding me that this is the slayer in my arms, the enemy: beware!
Buffy voices her concern, and I’m touched by it. I have to be honest with her. I have to show myself. I owe her that much. I have a death wish, so sue me. I turn back to her and growl, reinforcing what she is seeing. Buffy’s screams follow me out the window and down into the street.
I’ve ruined everything. Buffy will hunt me down, and I can’t fight her. I won’t. I’ll let her stake me, the Powers and Whistler be damned. As I slip down the quiet streets, a small part of me harbours the hope that Buffy will look past the monster and see the man. I know that it’s impossible. She’s the slayer. It’s her job to slay vampires. I’m a vampire, ergo, I get slain. I’ve been in her house. Her first priority is to protect her family. Her mother is everything to her.
My mind is spinning in all directions when I let myself into my small dwelling. I have to spend another night cooped up indoors. I can’t take the risk of running into Buffy. I’ll have the night and all day tomorrow to brood about my lot in life. Already, I can hear my mind whispering I should go and see her. I should go and find out what my future will be. She’ll have had time to think about me. She might like me enough to let me live.
Who am I kidding? I ask myself as I throw myself into a chair. She won’t give me a second thought. I’ve lied to her. I’m just a monster to her. It’s all I can ever be. Still, I have to know. My fate is in Buffy’s hands. I will go and confront her tomorrow. It can’t get any worse than it already is.
My decision made, I start to strip. I examine the wound Buffy bandaged the night before. It’s healed and I throw away the dressing. Tai Chi has always helped calm me down. I begin the routine.
It works, to a point. I catch a few hours sleep but wake up restless. My thoughts are in turmoil. I can’t settle to anything. I decide to go underground. One can go just about anywhere in Sunnydale using the sewers. Buffy will be at school. At least I won’t run into her.
When I come back home I sense another’s presence. It’s Darla. It’s been awhile since I’ve confronted her, and the sight of her makes me reel. She’s my Sire, she made me, and the pull of that relationship is strong. I want to fling myself into her arms. I want her to make it better, but I know she isn’t the answer. She despises me, abhors the soul that resides within me.
That time in China is something I’d rather not think about but it seems I can’t help myself. I mention kimonos. The last time I held her in my arms she was wearing one. A part of me still desires her. Is it the Sire Childe bond that tugs at me so, or is it my traitorous heart? Having had Buffy in my arms I know there is no comparison. Buffy offers heaven, Darla has given me hell. And still, if I had breath, Darla would steal it away. I feel as if I am betraying Buffy by wanting Darla, only, I know that Buffy and Angel will never be. I can pretend that I hate Darla, but that would be a lie. I don’t. I want to hang my head in shame.
Darla taunts me with visions of bloodletting and how we were. Her words cut and slice, every syllable meant to maim. Darla reminds me of what I am, and could yet be. I want to turn her away, to throw her out. I do nothing because I do want to belong. I have wanted to be as I was. The soul is a cancer, eating me up inside. I have wished it away on more than one occasion. Am I weak to want it gone? I know I am. And yet, that small spark of humanity is how I recognise my weakness. It’s what keeps me trying to do the right thing.
It pushes me to say, “Maybe you don’t wanna be,” when Darla insists she wants to be around when I return to the fold. When once again I become the monster she created.
Her last words cut deep. “I’m not afraid of you. I bet she is. Or maybe I’m underestimating her. Talk to her. Tell her about the curse. Maybe she’ll come around. And if she doesn’t trust you, you know where I’ll be.”
When the door closes behind her I want to scream. I throw something. It smashes against the door. I thought I’d had a chance of…something. Of becoming something other than what I am. I’ve lost that chance. I can see it’s hopeless now. Buffy will do what she is trained to do. She will stake me on sight. I stalk across the small room and back again. I pace. I want the sun to set. I want it to be over.
+++
I hesitate at the door. I’m afraid. Yeah, I’m scared of dying, isn’t everybody? Humans have such short lives. They think they’re the only ones that are frightened of death. They’re not. Vampires can live for centuries. The threat of having one’s existence snuffed out when immortality is on offer is not a thrilling prospect. Okay, the demon that is the vampire returns to Hell. It may not be frightened at its fate, but I am. Will my soul accompany me there? No doubt. I shudder at the thought.
I think I should just go and leave town. I back away from the door, my decision made. I hear a scream from inside the house, and when I race round to the back door I see that Darla has her teeth fastened on Mrs Summers’ neck.
“Let her go!” I shout, rushing through the door.
“I just had a little, there’s plenty more,” she says, dragging her fangs away. “Aren’t you hungry for something warm after all this time? Come on, Angel. Just say yes!”
I’m too distracted to think about how she knows the name I go by now. I’d always been Angelus to her. Darla shoves Mrs Summers into my arms and I struggle with the smell and sight of her hot bright blood. I have to look away. I’m ashamed. I want to feed. Glistening, the blood calls to me. Monster, it whispers. When I look back, I’m showing my demon. Darla smiles wickedly.
“Welcome home!”
She leaves me holding Joyce and I fight to regain my composure. Mrs Summers needs medical attention. Horror of horrors, Buffy walks in on us. The Fates have decided for me. I’m doomed anyway. I growl at her and bare my fangs. Buffy throws me through the window. She is screaming at me, threatening to kill me. I stare at her, waiting for the inevitable. It doesn’t come. Buffy disappears, running for the phone.
++++
Darla is waiting for me when I open the door to my lair. I hadn’t called it that before, but I do now. Monsters have lairs. I was fooling myself. I thought I could pass as human. And humans live in homes. Live. I’m not alive. I guess I just exist.
“She wants to kill you.”
Maybe I do hate her, a little. What she did was a cheap trick, but it’s no more than I deserve. I was fooling myself. Darla just reminded me of what I am. I can’t blame her. It’s her nature.
“Leave me alone.”
She won’t. Darla continues to taunt, to cajole, to purr. She wants her boy back. I just want it finished.
I know where Buffy will go in search of me. The Bronze. It’s near where we met, and where we meet.
+++
I don’t have to wait long. I fade into the shadows. I can’t make it too easy for her. I’ll make her work for this kill.
“I know you’re there,” she calls when she comes down the stairs. “And I know what you are.”
“Do you?” I ask, feeling like death.
Buffy turns in the direction of my voice.
“I’m just an animal, right?” I’m bitter. It’s my fault how things have turned out.
“You’re not an animal. Animals I like.”
That’s my girl. She hates me. She’s going to do it. She’ll stake me.
“Let’s get it done,” I say with a growl. I make a dash for it. I jump on to the pool table, and Buffy lets loose with her crossbow. The bolt misses. I leap up onto the catwalk above, and swing back down, my legs kicking into her back. Buffy lands on the pool table. She recovers quickly by using her legs to knock me into a wall. I wait while she retrieves her weapon. She takes aim, and I stand up, snarling, urging her to shoot.
“C’mon. Don’t go soft on me now!”
Amazingly, the bolt goes wide. I tell her so. More amazingly, Buffy wants to talk. She wants to know why I didn’t kill her when I had the chance. I can’t stop myself. I tell her about the gypsy girl, the curse, and my soul. I don’t know if Buffy understands when I say I didn’t feed on her mother but I wanted to. I may walk like a man, but I’m not one. Or ever will be. I tell her I wanted to kill her tonight. It isn’t true, but I want Buffy to think so. I want her to put me out of my misery.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Buffy places her weapon on the floor and says for me to go ahead.
It feels like my heart is about to start beating. Buffy trusts me. She believes me. She has taken me at my word. I…
Darla interrupts, damn her. She has a habit of being in the wrong place at the right time. The two of them begin a verbal battle. Darla has a way with sarcasm, but I have to say, Buffy is no slouch, either. They tear at each other like terriers over a bone, and I realise that I’m that bone. My Sire and the slayer are fighting over me. I stand there like a fool, staring.
Darla reveals who she is, that I belong to her, and how she loves me. Darla could never love anyone. It’s not her fault, she hasn’t a soul. My lips stay silent. I don’t correct her. Then Darla lets out another secret. She tells Buffy I’m sick because I love a slayer. Just kill me now, I think.
Buffy has had enough. She flips her crossbow up into her hands. Darla produces two pistols, and a part of me admires her improvisation.
She smirks at Buffy, saying, “Scarier!”
I have to do something. Slayers are not impervious to bullets. Buffy is going to die.
Before I have time to act, a bullet sends me reeling back into a post. When I look up, Buffy is retreating from the hail of bullets Darla is sending her way. The pool table is ripped to shreds. All of a sudden there is a crossbow bolt protruding from Darla’s torso. The world appears to stop for one long moment.
“Close, but no heart,” she crows, and pulls it from her.
From out of nowhere, Willow calls out, “Buffy, it wasn’t Angel who attacked your mom. It was Darla.”
The warning earns her, and whoever else Willow has with her, a volley of bullets. I know what I have to do, and if it wasn’t for Buffy’s sake, and her friends, I don’t think I could do it. I pull the bolt that Buffy had fired at me from the wall. I wait for my moment. Darla is up on the pool table and Buffy pushes it away with my Sire riding it. A salvo of bullets has Buffy diving for cover. A shower of glass sprays across the room.
The strobe lights come on. I look up, as does Darla, and see Giles at the lights. Buffy moves across the room, and Darla brings her focus back to her.
“C’mon, Buffy. Take it like a man!” she cries.
My hand is not shaking, I tell myself, as I plunge the bolt through Darla’s back and into her heart. She turns to look at me in surprise before she disintegrates.
“Angel?”
I can feel tears prickling behind my eyes. I blink them away. She was everything to me, once. I know I shouldn’t mourn Darla, but I do. I look up from her ashes to stare at Buffy. My throat closes up. I’m incapable of uttering a word. Buffy returns my stare, she, too, is unable to speak. I turn and walk away. I retreat to my apartment.
The Master will know his favourite childe is dead. Will he mourn her as I do? Will he cry out in anger, in despair? Is he capable of feeling those emotions? Or will he only mourn the loss of her vicious and cunning nature? What was between Darla and I wasn’t natural. We had danced to the tune of a deadly melody, and yet I can’t help the way I feel. Is it wrong to grieve the passing of a monster? Darla was a victim once, his victim. Did anyone mourn her then?
It’s no small thing to kill one’s sire. It happens, but I never thought I would be capable of dusting Darla. Once upon a time she said that I had risen to new heights, that I had surpassed even her cruelty. Those days have passed. I’m no longer that demon. I’ve let myself deteriorate into the pathetic weakling I am. I spent years dining on rats, huddling in alleys. Rat blood does nothing for a vampire’s constitution. I was no match for my Sire. If she hadn’t been focused on Buffy I could never have staked her. Perhaps she thought I didn’t have it in me, that I was not a threat to her. She had always said that her boy was lurking inside of me. It’s true. I can’t deny it. But I couldn’t let Buffy die. For all Darla meant to me, Buffy means something more. Darla had four hundred years, and none of them good. Buffy is just a child, and with a warrior’s heart and a compassionate soul, she deserves to live. Darla did not. I know, deep down, I deserve the same fate. I’m not an honourable man. I’m not a man. I’m just a demon trying to get by, a demon whose past is just as bloody as Darla’s. I have to see Buffy and tell her that this isn’t going to work. That we can’t do…whatever it is that we were dreaming of.
I’ve got to walk away from this.
The End
August 2008