BtVS songfic: First Reading
Title: First Reading
Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: I wish I owned something here. I don’t.
Spoilers: Uhh, sort of from the second and third season of Angel, but not really.
Timeline/summary: You know that episode when Angel first sings for the Host? This is an alternate interlude to what actually happened. You know, if he’d sung something appropriate instead of ‘Mandy’.
Rating: G
Notes: Okay, the song is in Scottish Gaelic but I know it make no difference to those of us don’t don’t speak it at all, and to those who do, pretend it’s Irish. Please? I was just taking the translation I was provided with. I have no clue if the chorus is puert a beul or what. Also, go get Mary Jane Lamond’s new CD! The song is off of it.
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Angel made his way to the stage. He had point blank refused to do any karaoke. He would sing however. It had taken him a while to choose, knowing that the Host would be reading his emotions as well as other things had had him searching for a song that would help him not focus on distractions. *Like Buffy?* his mind had added snarkily.
He had given up on trying to hide his feelings about Buffy and had picked the song that expressed his current feelings. He picked up the mike and started to sing.
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Chì mi, chì mi, chì mi thall ud,
(I can see yonder into the distance)
Chì mi na féidh air a’ bhearradh,
(I can see the deer at the edge of the precipice.)
Hi rì him bò hill ò bha rò hò
Hi rì him bò hìrì ri ri ù
Hi rì him bo hill ò bha rò hò
Chì mi na féidh air a’ bhearradh,
(I can see the deer at the edge of the precipice.)
‘S an giomanach fhéin nan deaghaidh,
(And the hunter in their pursuit.)
Hi rì him bò hill ò bha rò hò
Hi rì him bò hìrì ri ri ù
Hi rì him bo hill ò bha rò hò
As Angel began to sing he thought of the people he had sworn to protect. He had decided to be, as Cordelia put it, “The Dark Avenger.” Whenever he went out he could see the people, like deer, being hunted. Well, it was less cliche than sheep. More though, it brought to mind the pagan rites of the Celts
He had been raised in the civilised world of Catholic Ireland. Young Liam had been unaware of the undercurrents that made Eire different from any other place in the world. The rituals that hid beneath the veneer of Christian tradition. When Angelus had discovered customs associated with the hunting of deer the metaphor had appealed to him.
And he could see the hunters as they flitted along the outskirts of human society. They would track and kill those unaware of the dangers around them, and some of those who were. Like wolves stalking along paths made by the passing of the prey generation upon generation.
‘S an giomanach fhéin nan deaghaidh,
(And the hunter in their pursuit.)
Le ghunna caol ‘s a mhial-choin sheanga
(With his slender barrelled gun and gaunt deerhounds.)
Hi rì him bò hill ò bha rò hò
Hi rì him bò hìrì ri ri ù
Hi rì him bo hill ò bha rò hò
That was just the one side though. He could see in his mind’s eye the hunt from the hunter’s perspective. The hunt was one of the few things that made his life bearable. He could no longer hunt humans but the hunters were fair game.
Le ghunna caol ‘s a mhial-choin sheanga
(With his slender barrelled gun and gaunt deerhounds.)
Dìreadh bheann ‘s a’ teàrnadh ghleannan
(Climbing the mountains and descending the glens' slopes.)
Hi rì him bò hill ò bha rò hò
Hi rì him bò hìrì ri ri ù
Hi rì him bo hill ò bha rò hò
Sometimes he wanted to however. He wanted to gather a gang of vampires like he had once and tear through the humans in that town like a pack of wolves. To hunt and feed with the freedom, glory and wildness that he kept hidden from the others. His friends.
Dìreadh bheann ‘s a’ teàrnadh ghleannan
(Climbing the mountains and descending the glens' slopes.)
Dh’fhàg thu an damh donn gun anail
(You (the hunter) left the brown stag breathless.)
Hi rì him bò hill ò bha rò hò
Hi rì him bò hìrì ri ri ù
Hi rì him bo hill ò bha rò hò
His friends who didn’t understand that he was a warrior in part because it gave him an outlet for his need to kill. He needed the hunt like he needed blood. Even when he was trying not to be involved, trying to be completely human, he had found himself stalking prey. It was an instinct too strong to be denied.
Cordelia and Wesley might rail at him for his ‘sneaky’ ways, but he took his thrills where they could be found. To startle a rush of adrenaline and fear out of the two was both exhilarating and a tease. He couldn’t truly take those feelings to their conclusion. It was like stopping partway through sex and walking away. He would have to settle for the cold comfort of killing another vampire.
Dh’fhàg thu an damh donn gun anail
(You (the hunter) left the brown stag breathless.)
Anns a’ fhraoch a’ sileadh faladh
(In the heather, dripping blood.)
Hi rì him bò hill ò bha rò hò
Hi rì him bò hìrì ri ri ù
Hi rì him bo hill ò bha rò hò
Blood. The notion of the hunt culminating in a burst of blood as the prey surrendered had Angel closing his eyes. Blood was a signal to him. It spoke of success and failure, and all he could do these days was satisfy himself in the spilling of demon blood. The others would never understand. They lacked this need that boiled inside him, and not for the first time Angel wondered if maybe Darla had been right. That he wasn’t living if he didn’t kill hunt and feed.
Anns a’ fhraoch a’ sileadh faladh
(In the heather, dripping blood.)
Bha do mhial-choin sgìth ‘ga leanaid
(Your deerhounds were wearied by its pursuit.)
Hi rì him bò hill ò bha rò hò
Hi rì him bò hìrì ri ri ù
Hi rì him bo hill ò bha rò hò
Bha do mhial-choin sgìth ‘ga leanaid
(Your deerhounds were wearied by its pursuit.)
Bha na gillean sgìth ‘ga tharraing
(The attendants were fatigued by its carrying.)
Hi rì him bò hill ò bha rò hò
Hi rì him bò hìrì ri ri ù
Hi rì him bo hill ò bha rò hò
His deerhounds, his pack, his attendants, his family, Wesley and Cordelia were this. They could never quite keep up with him. He held back for them, tried to make sure they felt they were part of his hunt, but they weren’t. They were there to harry, to hold, but not to hunt. He hunted alone.
Angel missed that. Missed having his perfect match by his side as they fought together. The one person who could understand his inner conflict of Beast and Man. There was a need in her too. She had a conscience like his, but the need was there. She needed the hunt and kill.
It wasn’t necessarily blood for her, but the thrill at the death was there. The power ran through her even as it did in him. hey had been so well matched in everything. She had understood when he went on the hunt and hunted with him. The others called it patrolling.
Between the two of them, it was The Hunt.
Bha na gillean sgìth ‘ga tharraing
(The attendants were fatigued by its carrying.)
Bial an anmoich ‘tighinn gu baile
(In the nightfall arriving home.)
Hi rì him bò hill ò bha rò hò
Hi rì him bò hìrì ri ri ù
Hi rì him bo hill ò bha rò hò
She held his everything. She held his heart and his beast in the palm of her hand. Both shared respect for her, terror, love, adoration, they were unequivocally hers. As she was his.
He could feel it in the way she had molded herself to him and around him. She controlled him, even as he controlled her. They ran together in perfect accord. Battling for the position of power, neither could ever gain the upper hand save when the other wished. While his friends and hers would tire and stagger back home, they would continue to run together until the dawn forced them apart.
Bial an anmoich ‘tighinn gu baile
(In the nightfall arriving home.)
Far am faighte biadh gun ghainnead
(Where food was got without scarcity.)
Hi rì him bò hill ò bha rò hò
Hi rì him bò hìrì ri ri ù
Hi rì him bo hill ò bha rò hò
His employees would come to his place, the hotel which was as much their home as his, and they would plead with him to provide. Sometimes he felt like a feudal lord handing out rations to his subjects. He missed the way she had no need to ask him, even as he had no need to ask her for anything. Each knew what they could take from the other. It was written in their blood.
Far am faighte biadh gun ghainnead
(Where food was got without scarcity.)
l ‘s ceòl ‘s òran thairis
(Drink and music and song.)
Hi rì him bò hill ò bha rò hò
Hi rì him bò hìrì ri ri ù
Hi rì him bo hill ò bha rò hò
It had been close to Thanksgiving when he had first seen how distant they had become. The distance of a couple hours and he no longer fit to her life. Frightened of her response and his he had hidden in the shadows. He had even watched her Thanksgiving celebration with her friends.
Still she had sensed him. She had said as much when she visited the next day. The day that never happened. It still rankled that she had forgotten. Some part of him had been certain she would despite the impossibility of it. Instead she had left his life and returned to hers.
l ‘s ceòl ‘s òran thairis
(Drink and music and song.)
Tha sgeul ùr a’ tighinn gu baile
(A new tale is arriving home.)
Hi rì him bò hill ò bha rò hò
Hi rì him bò hìrì ri ri ù
Hi rì him bo hill ò bha rò hò
Tha sgeul ùr a’ tighinn gu baile
(A new tale is arriving home.)
Chan e sgeul ùr a th’ann ach naidheachd
(Its not a new tale but news.)
That Thanksgiving had given Angel the news that had nearly sent him into a rage. He had seen her speaking with a man. Her body language had spoken of attraction. He knew the signs. Had read them in her when they hunted together.
The man’s name was Riley Finn. It was something of an Irish sounding name, though the boy was too Teutonic to possibly be from Eire. He was too American. Angel realised with a start that he had never considered her to be American. She transcended such foolish boundaries. Although he couldn’t help but think that she was closer to his own Celtic roots than the ridiculous posturing of that still youthful nation. A country younger than himself. Hardly a nation at all.
Hi rì him bò hill ò bha rò hò
Hi rì him bò hìrì ri ri ù
Hi rì him bo hill ò bha rò hò
Chan e sgeul ùr a th’ann ach naidheachd
(Its not a new tale but news.)
She had been furious after he had defended Faith against her. Everything in him had cried out in protest when his hand had stuck her face. It hurt now as it always did to think of the betrayal she had felt.
As always she had lashed out, rightly or wrongly, at him. He knew it was because he was her safe haven as she was his. Still, the one time he knew she had needed most to hear his love was still unconditional he had told her it wasn’t. She had responded hurtfully, speaking of Riley Finn.
Gun do réitich mo chiad leannan
(That my first love has betrothed.)
Buffy’s new lover.
Angel stepped down from the stage and made his way over to the green skinned demon waiting for him. As the demon opened his mouth to speak, Angel shot him a warning look. It was interpreted correctly. Angel wanted to hear nothing of his unrequited love. He wanted to hear what information the Host had gleaned from the reading. He wanted to return to the Hunt.
It was all he could have of what he wanted now.
Hi rì him bò hill ò bha rò hò
Hi rì him bò hìrì ri ri ù
Hi rì him bo hill ò bha rò hò
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