Angel held out his hand and she instinctively gave him hers. He led her to the center of the large dance studio, and they began to dance to the beat. The movements were fluid, as if they'd been putting weeks-worth of practice into the routine.
He spun her with ease and pulled her back in, murmuring, "It's a metaphor," into her ear.
"What?"
"This dance that we do. We've been dancing since the beginning. Before the Orb, before Eyghon, before we met. In other lifetimes, I've danced with you." He moved her quickly across the floor. "And in other lifetimes," he dipped her, breath bouncing off her neck, "I've killed you."
Jenny gasped as he yanked her back up. "Angel, stop."
"Keep up," he told her, and she wasn't sure if he meant the dance or the conversation. "You wanna know the cause of death in this lifetime?"
She nodded, and he twirled her again, pulling her back against him and bending her head, neck tilted toward him. "Dawn's light is the key," he told her, and her body jerked when his teeth scraped her neck. "The answer is in the blood."
He helped her side-step some sort of creature that reached out to jab at her with a stake. "Don't mind her," he told her. "She holds grudges."
She spun around to ask him to elaborate, only to find him gone and a dark, feral pair of eyes in his place. Jenny blinked, jumping back, and then it was gone. She came face to face with her reflection, furrowing her brows at it. "Angel?" she called, looking around. "Angel."
The side door of the studio opened, and Buffy poked her head in. "Come on, you're gonna miss it."
"Miss what?"
"Giles being a painter!" she giggled, and disappeared through the door.
He spun her with ease and pulled her back in, murmuring, "It's a metaphor," into her ear.
"What?"
"This dance that we do. We've been dancing since the beginning. Before the Orb, before Eyghon, before we met. In other lifetimes, I've danced with you." He moved her quickly across the floor. "And in other lifetimes," he dipped her, breath bouncing off her neck, "I've killed you."
Jenny gasped as he yanked her back up. "Angel, stop."
"Keep up," he told her, and she wasn't sure if he meant the dance or the conversation. "You wanna know the cause of death in this lifetime?"
She nodded, and he twirled her again, pulling her back against him and bending her head, neck tilted toward him. "Dawn's light is the key," he told her, and her body jerked when his teeth scraped her neck. "The answer is in the blood."
He helped her side-step some sort of creature that reached out to jab at her with a stake. "Don't mind her," he told her. "She holds grudges."
She spun around to ask him to elaborate, only to find him gone and a dark, feral pair of eyes in his place. Jenny blinked, jumping back, and then it was gone. She came face to face with her reflection, furrowing her brows at it. "Angel?" she called, looking around. "Angel."
The side door of the studio opened, and Buffy poked her head in. "Come on, you're gonna miss it."
"Miss what?"
"Giles being a painter!" she giggled, and disappeared through the door.
Jenny's only instinct was to follow.
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