BtVS Quadruple Drabble: Hunger
Title: Hunger
Fandom: BtVS
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Angelus.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Innocence.
Summary: Now that Angelus is back in control, he wants to feed.
Written For: Challenge 411: Amnesty 68 at fan_flashworks, using Challenge 240: Feed.
Disclaimer: I don’t own BtVS, or the characters.
A/N: Quadruple drabble.
As the pain subsided, the tension went out of Angelus and a feeling of elation filled him. At long last he was free! The pesky human soul was gone, he was once again in control of the body he inhabited, and he was hungry!
“Hey,” a woman’s voice said nearby. “You okay? You want me to call 911?”
“No. The pain is gone.” Angel surged to his feet, the pouring rain suddenly insignificant.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” How convenient, he though. A ready meal just waiting for him; he couldn’t have arranged it any better himself. Face morphing, he whirled, faster than a human could ever react, grabbing the woman and sinking his fangs into her throat to feed.
The gush or rich, hot blood was like the finest vintage wine on his tongue. No, it was better by far, the adrenaline from her sudden terror added a piquancy he hadn’t tasted in so long he’d almost forgotten. Now he tried to savor it, but his need was too strong, his hunger raging inside him, and he couldn’t stop, drawing the blood from his victim as fast as he was able, draining her dry, and finally letting the empty husk drop to the rain-saturated alley floor as the woman’s heart stuttered to a halt.
His fangs had driven so deep he’d penetrated her windpipe, and smiling, he breathed out a stream of smoke drawn from her lungs. Maybe he should pick up some cigarettes, or just help himself to his victim’s; it wasn’t like she had any use for them now. Rifling her pockets, he helped himself to cigarettes and matches, then strode from the alley.
He felt better than he had in over a century, and it was all thanks to Buffy. He’d have to think of a way to thank her, but not just yet. After so long feeding on rats and the cold, dead blood of animals, enough to sustain but never enough to satisfy, he wasn’t done feeding yet. The woman had been little more than a palate cleanser, an appetiser, just enough to take the edge off, but he wanted more. Besides, taking her had been too easy; it had been so long since he’d last enjoyed the thrill of the hunt.
Where should he start? Not here, somewhere away from the Slayer and her friends. He’d feed first, and then he’d start making his plans…
The End
Fandom: BtVS
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Angelus.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Innocence.
Summary: Now that Angelus is back in control, he wants to feed.
Written For: Challenge 411: Amnesty 68 at fan_flashworks, using Challenge 240: Feed.
Disclaimer: I don’t own BtVS, or the characters.
A/N: Quadruple drabble.
As the pain subsided, the tension went out of Angelus and a feeling of elation filled him. At long last he was free! The pesky human soul was gone, he was once again in control of the body he inhabited, and he was hungry!
“Hey,” a woman’s voice said nearby. “You okay? You want me to call 911?”
“No. The pain is gone.” Angel surged to his feet, the pouring rain suddenly insignificant.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” How convenient, he though. A ready meal just waiting for him; he couldn’t have arranged it any better himself. Face morphing, he whirled, faster than a human could ever react, grabbing the woman and sinking his fangs into her throat to feed.
The gush or rich, hot blood was like the finest vintage wine on his tongue. No, it was better by far, the adrenaline from her sudden terror added a piquancy he hadn’t tasted in so long he’d almost forgotten. Now he tried to savor it, but his need was too strong, his hunger raging inside him, and he couldn’t stop, drawing the blood from his victim as fast as he was able, draining her dry, and finally letting the empty husk drop to the rain-saturated alley floor as the woman’s heart stuttered to a halt.
His fangs had driven so deep he’d penetrated her windpipe, and smiling, he breathed out a stream of smoke drawn from her lungs. Maybe he should pick up some cigarettes, or just help himself to his victim’s; it wasn’t like she had any use for them now. Rifling her pockets, he helped himself to cigarettes and matches, then strode from the alley.
He felt better than he had in over a century, and it was all thanks to Buffy. He’d have to think of a way to thank her, but not just yet. After so long feeding on rats and the cold, dead blood of animals, enough to sustain but never enough to satisfy, he wasn’t done feeding yet. The woman had been little more than a palate cleanser, an appetiser, just enough to take the edge off, but he wanted more. Besides, taking her had been too easy; it had been so long since he’d last enjoyed the thrill of the hunt.
Where should he start? Not here, somewhere away from the Slayer and her friends. He’d feed first, and then he’d start making his plans…
The End