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Eviscerate Me, My Love	By : jsu1660n Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Angel(us)/Buffy > Angel(us)/Buffy Views: 8792 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I receive no profit from this fan fiction.

Chapter List
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A/N: Hey guys. So, this past week, I decided to venture out in my reading of fan fiction and I noticed a Buffy category in the TV Shows section. This was and always will be my favorite show. I initially intended to read the Buffy/Angel stories as they are my fave couple. However, I was lucky enough to find a decent surplus of Buffy/Angelus centric stories! Coupled with buying my favorite episodes of season two from Amazon, this little seedling rooted itself inside my head today and grew into, well, this!

Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping…waiting…and though unwanted…unbidden…it will stir…open its jaws, and howl. It speaks to us…guides us. Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love…the clarity of hatred…and the ecstasy of grief. It howls sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we’d truly be dead.
– Angelus, ‘Passion’ from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 2, Ep. 17
To the unobservant eye, Buffy Summers slept soundly, but Angelus knew better. Her soft golden skin held an ethereal glow from the moonlight shining through her window. Her blonde hair fanned around her pillow. Her fiery hazel orbs rolled constantly behind her closed lids. Her pouty pink lips puckered. Her hand clenched in a death grip around that ridiculous stuffed animal – Mr. Gordo, she calls him – the only visible signs that she was falling into yet another nightmare.
Angelus observed this all as he perched comfortably on her windowsill, half in and half out of her bedroom. Not in indecision, no, never that. Angelus knew Buffy better than she knew herself. The moment he fully entered her room the fog would clear. She would no longer linger between a bad dream of his counterpart and a nightmare of himself.
Angelus scented the little tears falling from Buffy’s closed eyes. He remained stoic. Nearly transfixed by the beauty of her vulnerability. In the two centuries he walked the earth, none he came across had affected him as much as her. Not his adventurous and beautiful sire Darla. Not even his beautifully mad childe Drusilla. It fascinated and sickened him. From the start of their little dance, Sunnydale’s precious Slayer should have been rotting underground. But at every turn, when he could administer the final blow he hesitated. They both did. She because she couldn’t bear the thought of her beloved Angel reduced to nothing more than dust. He because her sorrow tasted as sweet as the scent of her blood. He purposely kept her alive this long just so he could continue to twist the knife in her heart just a little more. Not enough to kill her, but to push her grief to the point of begging for death. Begging for a relief from her constant misery.
He glided into the room gracefully. Silently. A true predator stalking his slumbering prey. He perched himself on the side of her bed, staring down into her innocent face. Innocence. The word itself brought about an uncontrollable growl. Buffy whimpered, nestling further into her bed seemingly to escape him. As if she ever could. As if he would ever let her.
He inhaled deeply as the fear of her subconscious mind told her what her conscious mind couldn’t. Sweet undiluted fear. Hers was like no others.
Even though his counterpart made her into a woman, she was still a child whose innocence shone so brightly to the depths of her soul that even the fiercest demon faltered slightly. It was that purity, that innocence, which drew his counterpart in on his first sighting at Hemery. The little wisp of a girl with blonde hair trailing down her back. Her lips wrapped in an unintentionally pleasing manner around a lollipop. Angelus observed it all through the little window Angel grudgingly provided for him. ‘A lesson on how to be a decent person,’ he once justified.
And for that, for being sucked into her cataclysmic pull, willingly and unwillingly, Angelus longed to reach inside her and tear that shining innocence away until nothing remained but a gaping, bleeding hole.
He rose from the bed. He went to her closet. He moved around her room as if he belonged there as much as she did. In its trusty space on the top shelf, hidden by a blanket was Buffy’s journal. She hated the word diary. Her journal was the size of a notebook with no seal or lock. Only a blue ribbon marking her last entry. It was a design array of blue, white, and purple. Angelus drew her chair towards the foot of her bed. He propped his legs on her desk in the most arrogant fashion, rolled his neck and proceeded to bask in the Slayer’s most guarded secrets.
‘Only to you, my most dear and faithful friend can I confess. There are nights that I want to see Angelus.’ His lips quirked into a smirk as he continued reading. ‘I want to see his mocking smile and scornful eyes. I want to hear his cruel words that slice me deeper than a serrated blade. He has the face of my love, my Angel, but none of the same grief and restraint. Not a moment passes that I don’t drift back to my Angel and the love we shared. Love that was too great for me to begin to describe in words.
‘But now Angelus has come along. It would be so easy to blame Ms. Calendar for her supporting role in the climax of our greatest scene, but at the end of the night when I lie alone in my bed visited by torturously lovely memories – neither clearly defined as wanted and unwanted – I know that it was my fault. Angel lost his soul within me. His greatest fear – Angelus once again being unleashed upon the world – has been realized and it is all because of me.
‘During the first real fight between Angelus and me after the Judge was destroyed, Angelus said something I will never forget.
“Know what the worst part was? Huh? Pretending that I loved you. If I’d known how easily you’d give it up, I wouldn’t have even bothered.”
‘The stabbing pain in my chest returned full force at his callous words, but I was too proud to let him see. “That doesn’t work anymore,” I said, feeling nowhere near as confident as I hoped I sounded. “You’re not Angel.”
‘But he was not at all moved by my false confidence. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? Doesn’t matter. The important thing is you made me the man I am today.”
‘And he was right. What’s been done to Angel and all of the atrocities being committed in his body by Angelus is because of me. That is a guilt I will carry with me until I draw my last breath.’
It was here that Angelus scented the sweet sorrow of her dried tears on the page. He remembered that night, although not so fondly because it ended with the bitch taking a shot at his balls. But he would take that minor slight to his pride with gritted teeth because in the end, she had proven to him that no matter what he said or did to her, she still found it impossible to gather enough hatred to end his existence. With a slightly smug smirk, Angelus lowered his eyes to the following entry.
‘The dreams are getting worse. It would start with the night of my seventeenth birthday. The Judge being assembled by Spike and Drusilla. Narrowly escaping. Returning to Angel’s house. The heavy rain splattering against the windows. Sitting beside Angel on his bed. The feeling of wet clothes clinging to my body. I should feel cold. Angel didn’t foresee the need for providing heat on that tumultuous night. And even so, I was not cold. How could I be when being beside my cold, undead love ignited a flame inside me that no one else could ever hope to spark? He looks at me. There’s that familiar hesitation in his eyes, but it’s eclipsed by something more than his need to be careful with me. In Angel’s eyes, I see his deep craving for me. He tells me we shouldn’t, but his hands grip my waist and his brown eyes have darkened from his desire. He wants me; it was pointless to deny it. And then it happens. A flurry of kisses and gentle caresses. He undressing me, me undressing him. Tangled limbs and a burning desire to have him inside me.’
Angelus gave off a long, suffering sigh. He skipped over Buffy’s ode to Angel’s “perfect lovemaking” until he found his name again.
‘…dream changes and it’s no longer Angel. The amused smile and cold scorn in his eyes tells me that it’s Angelus who’s on top of me. Inside me. I’m horrified and angry, but at the same time I don’t fight it. I let him take me and enjoy it when he does. But this doesn’t mean anything, right? I miss Angel and seeing Angelus and hearing his voice is a torture that I don’t think I could ever live without. None of this is coming out right!
Buffy’s handwriting grew less and less eligible as she struggled to explain both to her journal and to herself what she felt for the soulless part of her undead boyfriend. He rolled his eyes when she started appealing to Angel.
‘What can I do, love? How can I make this right again? Giles and Ms. Calendar are convinced that nothing can be done to bring you back to me. I don’t believe it. I know wherever you are you’re waiting for me to bring you back. And that’s what I will do. If it takes me the rest of my life, my Angel, I will bring you back.’
Angelus growled lowly, closing the book with a snap. He could almost feel her determination. Who did the little bitch think she was? Vowing to return Angel to his body? He glided over to her bed. He wrapped his hand around her throat, wanting nothing more than to strangle the little bitch for her having the audacity to love his counterpart. But no. That would be rash and although it would probably prevent many problems along the way, simply killing her was no fun.
He stood by what he said to Spike. To truly pick apart the Slayer, he had to work from the inside. He needed to hit her where she lived. And he knew just how to do it. Angelus glanced towards the starlit sky. He had approximately four hours before sunrise. And scenting her arousal at the turn of her dreams, Angelus knew exactly how he wanted to spend that time.
Buffy shivered slightly, almost as if she could sense what was about to happen. Angelus shrugged off his long jacket, folding it neatly over the abandoned chair. He stripped at a leisure pace. He originally planned to keep his clothes on, but then he remembered her soft, smooth skin through his windowed view when Angel was in the driver’s seat. He hated them both for that. He was the fucking Scourge of Europe and he still felt the phantom tingle of emotion for the Slayer left behind from Angel! It was sickening. The first night Angelus returned to himself, he exhausted all of his willpower not to return to bed and show the Slayer what it meant to be with a real vampire.
Angelus stood naked, his cock hard and weeping at the sight of the defenseless Slayer. He slowly pulled the covers back and she shifted slightly from the change in temperature. He glanced at her hand, a cruel smirk making its way across his face. She still wore her Claddagh ring, but only at night where she could pretend Angel was still around. He traced the edge of his own ring. He only kept it on because he liked the idea of having a claim to Angel’s prized Slayer. She was practically his wife by his ancestor’s standards. But Angel was gone so why shouldn’t he claim his beloved? Thanks to them, Angelus would damn near have to bring hell on earth just so the minions would never forget why his name was only mentioned with a whispered reverence. The way he saw it, claiming the Slayer was just a modicum of what he was due.
He carefully climbed onto the bed. Buffy shifted again, but remained blissfully unaware of what was about to happen to her. She went to bed that night in a rose colored button down that barely reached past her hips. She wore pink little cotton panties that bore an unmistakable wet spot on the crotch area.
He took the buttons on her shirt one at a time, reveling over each bit of golden skin he exposed. Her pink nipples hardened amidst the chill in the air and her flesh puckered as she shivered lightly. Her breasts fit perfectly in his large hands. She gasped, arching her back. She was always so responsive.
“Angel,” she whispered without opening her eyes.
Angel. It was always Angel. He growled and she whimpered. Her arousal and fear permeated the air.
“That’s my girl.”
He captured her nipple in his mouth. She arched her back. Hands blindly, instinctively reaching for him. The demon in her lover’s body. Her small hands tugged at his hair. Her little body deliciously ground against his aching cock.
“So eager to betray Angel, lover?” he whispered in her ear.
She whimpered and the sweet scent of her misery washed over him. He chuckled darkly, suckling her nipple harder. He kissed and suckled her nipples until they were swollen and tender to the touch. Angelus kissed down her smooth stomach. The same stomach that Angel spent his days dreaming about filling with screaming children that had her eyes and wit and his compassion. His counterpart would have been amusing if you could ignore the fact that he was a disgrace to Angelus’ reputation. Not to mention their kind. Angelus made quick work of removing Buffy’s soaked panties to tuck them away for later. He widely spread her legs, gazing at the neat patch of dark blonde hairs centered above her swollen, leaking lips.
It was at this point that the dormant Angel awakened, thrashing madly as he realized his demon’s intentions.
“Now, now, oh Weak One,” he said over Angel’s shouts. “You had your turn. Besides,” he said, placing Buffy’s legs over his shoulders and securing a hold on her small waist. “How can I stop now when she’s so desperately wanting it?” he mocked. “Why, that would make me…a soulless monster.”
Without further preamble, basking in Buffy’s vulnerability and Angel’s helplessness, Angelus slowly traced the outlines of his Slayer’s secret lips with the tips of his tongue. Her hands wound in his hair once again. Her Slayer strength threatened to override his hold on her hips as she attempted to meld herself to his mouth, but Angelus could not be moved. He took his time, bringing her towards the edge again and again, only to leave her teetering in suspended orgasm.
Keeping a hand on her stomach to hold her in place, Angelus moved closer to her left thigh, the steady pulse of her femoral artery whispering his name. Angelus sensed Angel’s horror as he traced the sweet flesh covering the alluring artery. He shifted his face, lightly tracing his fangs against her skin. She writhed pitifully. Sweat drenched her skin and her arousal had spilled out onto his chest. Buffy shifted in the bed effectively bringing her thigh closer to his waiting mouth, practically begging Angelus to bite.
“What do you say, Weak One? Should I accommodate our little Slayer?”
Angel’s fear and horrified curiosity consumed Angelus. He held her thigh in a bruising grip and sunk his fangs into her artery. The sweetest blood to ever touch his lips flooded his tongue. Buffy arched her back in a silent scream coming apart, drawing Angelus even closer. He pulled back when he felt her losing consciousness.
Buffy slowly opened her eyes as he hovered over her. Blood stained his lips and his demonic eyes stared into hers. Daring her to do something about it. He watched her close her eyes again. Her small hand reached between them, wrapping around his hard cock. She spread his leaking fluids around and stroked him slowly, applying just enough pressure to make him growl and groan. His thrusts into her hand quickened as he felt his balls tighten and draw up. He took her hand away, pinning her to the bed. Long, cold spurts of his seed shot onto her stomach. He growled almost possessively at the sight. He glanced up at her face. She had fallen asleep again.
Angelus smirked. His face shifted back and he quickly dressed himself. He stood at her bedside staring down at her.
“What do you think?” he said to the distraught Angel. “Isn’t she a work of art?”
~…*…~
Buffy awoke the next morning. She felt a contentment that she had not felt since the night she fell asleep in her Angel’s arms. But the contented smile fell from her face. The memories of the night before came crashing back to her. His cruel whisper. His wicked mouth. His bloodstained lips and mocking demonic eyes. She sat up quickly, taking in the state of her body. She was naked. Her stomach felt sticky. Dried blood and a healing bite mark stained the inside of her thigh.
“No.”
She frantically looked about the room, almost expecting him to be there. In her paranoid searching’s she noticed an envelope beside her pillow. With shaky hands, she grabbed the blank envelope and removed the folded paper from inside. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears as she unfolded the paper. A single tear fell from her eyes. It was a drawing of her lying in bed. Naked. Mr. Gordo clutched to her. Her ring nestled safely on her finger. And an unquestionable puddle of fluids on her stomach.
A message written in the beautifully familiar handwriting left her shaken.
You know that when I hate you, it is because he loves you to a point of passion that unhinges his soul.
She barely made it to the toilet in time. She retched loudly and started to dry heave when there was nothing left. Self-disgust coursed through her as recalled her role in it all.
“Buffy?” her mother knocked. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, mom,” she panted, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “I just…I’m not feeling that great,” she mumbled.
“Do you want to stay home today?”
Buffy could hear the concern in her mother’s voice. “No,” she said quickly. “I’ll be fine.”
“Well, alright,” she said, hesitantly. “If you’re sure…breakfast is in the kitchen.”
Buffy didn’t wait for her mother to leave before she turned on the faucets, making the water as hot as she could stand it. She scrubbed her skin raw, cringing as she remembered Angelus’ mocking stare. But then Angel’s hurt and betrayed eyes flashed before her. Buffy shoved the washcloth against her mouth wailing in despair.
“I’m so sorry, Angel. I’m so sorry.”
As she made her way to the library, Buffy tried unsuccessfully to forget the beautifully drawn portrait of her and the passionate quote written on the back.
“Good morning, Buffy,” Giles greeted pleasantly.
“Morning,” she responded, attempting to put last night’s memory as far from her thoughts as she could. Xander and Cordelia were already there along with Willow who looked up at the sound of her voice from the book she was reading. As she took a moment to look at her friends and her Watcher who was the only real father she’s had, Buffy realized how devastated they would all be if she ever told them what she had done with Angelus.
No, she would suck it up. Live with her guilt. And stay as far away from Angelus as possible. After all, that’s what Angel would do.
That evening while she was fighting two freshly risen vamps, she thought of Ms. Calendar. Buffy could see the woman’s hurt when she refused to acknowledge her. Truthfully speaking, Buffy forced herself to hate Ms. Calendar. If she didn’t, that boiling hatred would quickly turn inward.
Three staked vampires later, Buffy slipped inside of the mausoleum, changed her clothes and headed for the Bronze. Her friends were spending time away from the popular club with their partners tonight. Buffy envied Xander and Willow – well, not so much Xander. Cordy was just too self-absorbed for her liking – they were both free to be with the ones they love. Willow could give herself to Oz and never worry that he would turn into a soulless demon hell-bent on crippling her emotionally before he killed her.
“Stop it, Summers,” Buffy whispered to herself. “No cursed boyfriend turned soulless ex tonight. Tonight is all about you.”
Across town in the factory…
“I hope you actually manage to get some work done tonight,” Spike bitched from his chair.
“Take it easy, NASCAR,” Angelus smirked, adjusting his jacket.
“If I was out there, the Slayer would be ten feet under by now,” he went on, ignoring his grandsire’s teasing. “Not throwing things at her that she can use to build up her hatred for you. You keep this up and that little chit is finally going to have the strength to drive a stake right through your heart. And then poof! Bye-bye Mr. Scourge of Europe.”
Angelus rolled his eyes and his more compliant childe Drusilla twirled into the room, clutching her whiny puppy Sunshine – of all things – to her chest. “You should be grateful I’m distracting her from coming after you. Everyone knows it’s much easier to stake a sitting duck, and well,” he sighed, gesturing towards Spike and his chair.
“Oh, Spikey, Daddy has a plan. The mean Slayer is a kitten without claws,” she said, dancing to a silent song. “And Daddy loves his kittens, don’t you, Daddy?”
“Who knows me like you, Dru?” he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her neck, just because he knew it threatened Spike whenever he touched her. “Now, Daddy has to go out for a while,” he said, spinning Drusilla so that she landed in Spike’s lap. “Behave yourselves, children.”
“Yeah,” Spike said his eyes only seeing Drusilla. “Try not to come back with the Slayer all over your face again, mate.”
“No promises,” he called over his shoulder.
He found her in the Bronze. She was dressed in all black. A strapless blouse that fit like a second skin. An indecently short leather skirt. Knee high boots with stiletto heels. His cock twitched to life as she swayed her hips to the song. Fast, then slow to keep up with the changing beat. He bit back a growl at the number of men, well boys really, watching her with their covetous eyes.
~ As a girl you have set your heart on haunting me forever from the start it’s never silent ~
Her movements slowed as the awareness of his presence trickled over her. Buffy stood nearly still. Indecisive. What would he do? Would he taunt her about the night before? Would he cause a scene? What would he do?
What would he do? They were in public after all. Angelus loved creating mass hysteria as much as the next demon, but it wasn’t one of his top five things to do tonight. He quickly closed the gap between them. He ignored her defensive posture and drew her back against his chest.
“Hello, lover.”
~ Ever since we met I only shoot up with your perfume. It’s the only thing that makes me feel as good as you do. ~
“Is that outfit meant to attract every male in here tonight?” he said, mostly to distract himself from enjoying the burning heat of her skin against his.
“Did it attract you?” she questioned boldly.
Angelus drew her flush against him so that she could feel his hard cock digging into her backside. His hand slowly slipped underneath her skirt while the other palmed her breast. She gasped, both disgusted and excited.
“Does that answer your question, lover?”
~ Ever since we met I’ve got just one regret to live through and that one regret is you. ~
He shoved her roughly against the wall behind the Bronze as a light sheet of rain fell from the sky, soaking their clothing in minutes. They kissed wildly in the same darkened corner Angelus used to kill some nameless girl the night before – unbeknownst to Buffy. He tore the Slayer’s panties off as she tugged at his hair. He scented her confusion, frustration and arousal as she readily wrapped her legs around his hips. She gripped his shirt, preparing to rip it open when he growled and pulled back from her.
“This is one of my favorite shirts. Rip it and I will take that sweet little ass of yours. And I can promise you won’t enjoy that,” he said harshly. She stared into his cold, dark eyes, knowing he meant every word. The scent of her fear overpowering her anger appeased him. “Slowly, lover. Slowly.”
Buffy took care to unbutton Angelus’ shirt carefully. She couldn’t reconcile with herself why she was doing what she was doing. Angelus was the embodiment of evil. It shouldn’t matter that he had Angel’s face. Not when Angelus purposely refrained from shifting to vampire in her presence to prolong her torment as much as he could. So why was she caressing his chest and grinding against his still covered cock? Was it really about Angel? No. It couldn’t be. Every time she was with Angelus, she felt herself slipping further away from Angel. Had she turned into one of those pathetic girls that was so desperate for the one she loved that she turned to the demon who was destined to destroy her?
Angelus enjoyed the conflicting emotions on Buffy’s face as she touched him. He was tempted to tell her that her precious Angel had a window seat to everything they did together. But no. That particular secret was one he would keep a while longer.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded.
She readily obeyed, lowering her blouse around her stomach. He growled realizing that she had not worn a bra. She fondled her breasts, pulling and twisting her nipples until they were as hard as pebbles. Angelus reached between them and unzipped his leather pants. In one quick thrust, he sheathed himself completely inside her.
Buffy gasped and moaned. Her eyes went wide and unfocused. She grabbed the wall behind her for leverage as she felt him shudder lightly. He placed his hands on the wall beside her head, trapping her. His eyes were closed and his lips parted slightly. With his face turned up towards the crying sky, he really did look like an angel.
“I can feel your pulse on my cock.”
He withdrew almost completely before slamming back into her. She moaned his name. His name and Angelus felt Angel crumble in despair. Angel was the farthest thing from Buffy’s thoughts now. Angelus used his vampire strength when he took her. He panted lightly and Buffy moaned and blushed as the wet squishing sounds his cock made as he slapped into her seemed amplified to her ears.
Angelus was lost in his own world. He had been with enough women to lose count, human, vampire and demon alike, and yet none of the women of his past felt as pleasing around his cock as the Slayer. Her muscles clenched him in a deliciously painful vice grip and he had to concentrate to keep from coming before he was ready. She rolled her hips teasingly and Angelus felt the wall crack under the pressure of his hands.
Buffy had the sudden urge to kiss the demon that possessed her body as though it was his. She gave in, wrapping her arms around her neck and letting his tongue battle hers for dominance. A battle that she would never win.
Angelus picked up his pace as she matched him thrust for thrust. She felt it coming. The small tingle that grew larger and larger. He felt her fluttering around his cock and garnished control to his baser instincts. She opened her eyes just as his face shifted. She knew what he wanted. But she was not ready to go that far with him. She pressed her wrist to his lips. His yellow eyes met hers as his fangs slid into her wrist. She came apart, screaming his name. He released her wrists after three long pulls of her blood. Angelus growled deeply as he shot long spurts of his come inside her.
When it was over and the longing for Angel and the severity of what she had done crashed down on Buffy, she adjusted her clothes refusing to meet Angelus’ cruel eyes. “Guilt already, lover?” he teased.
“This won’t happen again.”
“Of course it won’t,” he mocked. He grabbed her arm just as she swung at him. “Such violence after such a beautiful act between us, Buff.” She kept her head turned from his searching gaze. But it was pointless. Even with all her hiding and the steady rainfall, he could scent her tears from a mile away. He smirked and softly kissed the back of her hand. Each lingering kiss a mockery of the tenderness that Angel always showed her. “How did it feel having me fuck you while you wore Angel’s ring?”
Shame and regret filled his senses. He felt almost drunk off her misery. “It won’t happen again,” she whispered so that his sensitive hearing barely caught it.
“Who are you kidding, Buff?” he laughed. “Angel’s gone and you know he’s never coming back.” She squeezed her eyes shut, wrenching herself away from him. “And this is the closest you will ever come to having him again.” He pushed her back into the wall. He kissed her. Hard and demanding. She melted like butter in his embrace. He pulled back and whispered in her ear. “You are so pathetic.” Hot tears fell steadily as she met his cruel eyes and mocking laugh.
He left her there. Crying, but not broken. No. For all of her faults, Angelus knew that Angel’s girl was stronger than any he had come across. But Angelus was not discouraged. He would break the Slayer, and before it was over, she would beg him for death.

A/N: Angelus’ quote loosely taken from Julie De Lespinesse. – “You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.”
Song Lyrics: Panic! at The Disco – Nearly Witches (Ever Since We Met…)
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Eviscerate Me, My Love