Four Horsemen Challenge: Into the Dark
Okay, so this is my first story for writers toybox and I'm a bit nervous. Pretty short, not so sweet, but I heard 'apocalypse' and this is the first thing that came to mind. :)
Word Count: 1,445
Pairing: Buffy/Angelus
Rating: PG
Timeline: Season 2
On his knees, he looked up at her, defeat shining bright in his dark eyes. She raised her sword high above her head, ready to end Angelus’ reign of terror and pain; for her, her friends, and the world. Hesitation halted her final blow and she stared at his beaten form on the floor below her. She couldn’t kill him. The room shook for a brief moment and behind him, the mouth of Acathla opened, the jaw of the demon statue descending slowly. She lowered her weapon and he picked himself up, turning to face the large entryway to hell.
A small smile graced his lips at the sight - he had won. He had finally brought hell on earth, and for what? Only to rid his life of the slayer, of course. She had slithered her way inside of his brain and made it her home, never allowing him any rest, always needing to see her, smell her, fight her, taste her. He couldn’t kill her, but letting hell devour the world would surely take care of that for him. So why was there a gnawing feeling in the pit of his being telling him this wasn’t exactly what he needed, what he wanted?
She watched him as he stood up in front of her, facing away from her as he gaped at the swirling vortex before them. What had he done? Even though he had gotten what he wanted, his body stayed rigid, tense as if expecting something to jump out at him. Did he think she would attack him from behind? Catch him off guard and put the sword through his belly and just end it all? Well … as her eyes continued to burn holes into his silk clad back, she knew that she couldn’t. Not now, not ever.
Right before their eyes, a claw reached out of Acathla’s gaping hole of a mouth, sharp talons reaching out for them. She heard Angelus growl lowly, a sound that came from deep within his chest. Why was he reacting so negatively towards something he himself wanted? She backed up and raised her weapon once again, not to use on him, but to strike down whatever felt like coming out to play. Although she kept herself outwardly calm and war-faced, she knew she probably wouldn’t live very long after whatever emerged from the vortex got through.
Angelus stood strong before the portal, body heaving with unnecessary breaths. For a split second she considered fleeing, but knew that she could not. It wasn’t something she had in her. She had to face this. She couldn’t stop it, so anything that entered the room would not be leaving alive. Finally, after many painstakingly long minutes, the first few demons crawled out of their previous home, snarling and obviously extremely vicious; a gleam of bloodlust in their eyes.
She watched as they looked at him, noting his dominant posture and bowing before him; a sign of submission. They obviously recognized him, and they knew their place on the food chain. He watched them closely, his posture never changing. He could smell the fear radiating off of her, the scent absolutely overwhelming.
Acathla’s mouth now reached the floor and began to expand in width, almost sucking in the whole room. More and more demons poured out, and now the thought of fleeing wasn’t so cowardly to her anymore. The first demons that emerged finally noticed her, growling and snarling at her still form. They all began to run past him, heading straight for the one they smelt as human, female, a slayer - the slayer.
A slice to a neck, a stab to the abdomen, she continued to strike them down as they charged, but found herself to be outnumbered, and quickly becoming surrounded. One of them landed a kick to her arm, almost breaking it as she lost her grip on her weapon. She gripped her arm close to her body as she backed away from the large amount of enemies. She was done for and she knew it. One grabbed her by the neck, another grabbed her wounded right arm, and soon she found herself completely subdued. She fought against them as she felt one of them going in for the kill, his teeth at her jugular.
A primal roar interrupted the demons playing with their new slayer toy as three standing in a row were all beheaded at once. She watched breathlessly as Angelus began slicing and dicing through his own army. She was released as the demons holding her captive turned on their master, attacking him and choosing to ignore her. Slumping to the floor, she looked up at his large, catlike form, fighting - for her. To her left on the ground not far from her, was her sword. Crawling as discreetly as she could, she picked up again, this time holding it in her left hand and once again, ready for battle.
She jumped into the fight, slashing through a group of them like butter as they poured out of the vortex. It had now grown to the size of the room, undoubtedly ready to swallow, not only them, but the rest of the world as well. Sometime during their battle, they ended up back to back, knowing that without a doubt, that they would be protected by the other.
It didn’t matter how hard they fought, how many demons they slaughtered, the mouth of hell opened itself completely, and began to swallow them whole. The earth below them shook as the swirling vortex encased them completely, the world going dark around them.
oOo
Centuries had passed since they fought side by side. A low, possessive growl reverberated deep within his chest, lulling her into a deeper, more comfortable sleep. He nuzzled against the newly opened bite mark on her neck, the proof of his obsession, of his mating. He curled his body around hers, protecting her from the dirt and soot of their cell. Before they had been sucked into hell, he wouldn’t have ever had imagined himself in such a position; curled up, protecting the slayer as they slept in a prison cell in hell.
When he first mated with her, he told himself it was only to ensure that nobody else could touch her, no other hands would harm her; none but his own. But deep within his being he knew it had been for more reasons than that. The bloodlust inside him had screamed to just drain her, but he knew that he couldn’t, he knew that he would regret it. She was a part of him, whether he liked it or not.
When she woke, he was fast asleep on her shoulder, vampire visage firmly in place. It seemed as if he rarely ever changed back to human form. Only when there was no sign of danger, or when he was completely sated that he ever relaxed enough to let his mask slip away.
She ran her fingers over the healing bite marks on his shoulder, and the other on his neck. She had bitten him more than once, usually while in the throes of passion and pain. He often disregarded the fact that she was a human, weakened by her time in hell, and was usually violent and animalistic while making love to her. She pulled herself up to him, inhaling his scent deeply before tentatively licking at the wounds she had inflicted on him. He purred at her, obviously sensing his mate. He pulled her back down underneath himself, cradling her once again as he cocooned himself around her.
They lay together on their bed of hay, stone walls and bars surrounding them. This was their home now, slayer and scourge, surviving the only way they knew how; together, yet alone, now as feral beasts.
He could have taken over hell, ruling all and controlling everything, but he had been looked at as a traitor - a traitor that had fallen in love with a slayer. He had murdered many in her name, causing them both much pain and suffering, but he couldn’t allow them to touch her. They couldn’t take what was rightfully his.
“Mine,” he breathed softly into her hair, “Buffy, mine.”
She pressed herself closer to his cool body and purred back at him. He held her as close to his body as possible and let himself relax, his angry mask of a face slipping away.
“Angel,” she sighed, nuzzling against the softness of his chest. “Aaaangel, mine.”
Her quiet voice slipped into the silence of their prison, bouncing off the walls of his mind and helped him drift off again to another, restless sleep.
Word Count: 1,445
Pairing: Buffy/Angelus
Rating: PG
Timeline: Season 2
On his knees, he looked up at her, defeat shining bright in his dark eyes. She raised her sword high above her head, ready to end Angelus’ reign of terror and pain; for her, her friends, and the world. Hesitation halted her final blow and she stared at his beaten form on the floor below her. She couldn’t kill him. The room shook for a brief moment and behind him, the mouth of Acathla opened, the jaw of the demon statue descending slowly. She lowered her weapon and he picked himself up, turning to face the large entryway to hell.
A small smile graced his lips at the sight - he had won. He had finally brought hell on earth, and for what? Only to rid his life of the slayer, of course. She had slithered her way inside of his brain and made it her home, never allowing him any rest, always needing to see her, smell her, fight her, taste her. He couldn’t kill her, but letting hell devour the world would surely take care of that for him. So why was there a gnawing feeling in the pit of his being telling him this wasn’t exactly what he needed, what he wanted?
She watched him as he stood up in front of her, facing away from her as he gaped at the swirling vortex before them. What had he done? Even though he had gotten what he wanted, his body stayed rigid, tense as if expecting something to jump out at him. Did he think she would attack him from behind? Catch him off guard and put the sword through his belly and just end it all? Well … as her eyes continued to burn holes into his silk clad back, she knew that she couldn’t. Not now, not ever.
Right before their eyes, a claw reached out of Acathla’s gaping hole of a mouth, sharp talons reaching out for them. She heard Angelus growl lowly, a sound that came from deep within his chest. Why was he reacting so negatively towards something he himself wanted? She backed up and raised her weapon once again, not to use on him, but to strike down whatever felt like coming out to play. Although she kept herself outwardly calm and war-faced, she knew she probably wouldn’t live very long after whatever emerged from the vortex got through.
Angelus stood strong before the portal, body heaving with unnecessary breaths. For a split second she considered fleeing, but knew that she could not. It wasn’t something she had in her. She had to face this. She couldn’t stop it, so anything that entered the room would not be leaving alive. Finally, after many painstakingly long minutes, the first few demons crawled out of their previous home, snarling and obviously extremely vicious; a gleam of bloodlust in their eyes.
She watched as they looked at him, noting his dominant posture and bowing before him; a sign of submission. They obviously recognized him, and they knew their place on the food chain. He watched them closely, his posture never changing. He could smell the fear radiating off of her, the scent absolutely overwhelming.
Acathla’s mouth now reached the floor and began to expand in width, almost sucking in the whole room. More and more demons poured out, and now the thought of fleeing wasn’t so cowardly to her anymore. The first demons that emerged finally noticed her, growling and snarling at her still form. They all began to run past him, heading straight for the one they smelt as human, female, a slayer - the slayer.
A slice to a neck, a stab to the abdomen, she continued to strike them down as they charged, but found herself to be outnumbered, and quickly becoming surrounded. One of them landed a kick to her arm, almost breaking it as she lost her grip on her weapon. She gripped her arm close to her body as she backed away from the large amount of enemies. She was done for and she knew it. One grabbed her by the neck, another grabbed her wounded right arm, and soon she found herself completely subdued. She fought against them as she felt one of them going in for the kill, his teeth at her jugular.
A primal roar interrupted the demons playing with their new slayer toy as three standing in a row were all beheaded at once. She watched breathlessly as Angelus began slicing and dicing through his own army. She was released as the demons holding her captive turned on their master, attacking him and choosing to ignore her. Slumping to the floor, she looked up at his large, catlike form, fighting - for her. To her left on the ground not far from her, was her sword. Crawling as discreetly as she could, she picked up again, this time holding it in her left hand and once again, ready for battle.
She jumped into the fight, slashing through a group of them like butter as they poured out of the vortex. It had now grown to the size of the room, undoubtedly ready to swallow, not only them, but the rest of the world as well. Sometime during their battle, they ended up back to back, knowing that without a doubt, that they would be protected by the other.
It didn’t matter how hard they fought, how many demons they slaughtered, the mouth of hell opened itself completely, and began to swallow them whole. The earth below them shook as the swirling vortex encased them completely, the world going dark around them.
oOo
Centuries had passed since they fought side by side. A low, possessive growl reverberated deep within his chest, lulling her into a deeper, more comfortable sleep. He nuzzled against the newly opened bite mark on her neck, the proof of his obsession, of his mating. He curled his body around hers, protecting her from the dirt and soot of their cell. Before they had been sucked into hell, he wouldn’t have ever had imagined himself in such a position; curled up, protecting the slayer as they slept in a prison cell in hell.
When he first mated with her, he told himself it was only to ensure that nobody else could touch her, no other hands would harm her; none but his own. But deep within his being he knew it had been for more reasons than that. The bloodlust inside him had screamed to just drain her, but he knew that he couldn’t, he knew that he would regret it. She was a part of him, whether he liked it or not.
When she woke, he was fast asleep on her shoulder, vampire visage firmly in place. It seemed as if he rarely ever changed back to human form. Only when there was no sign of danger, or when he was completely sated that he ever relaxed enough to let his mask slip away.
She ran her fingers over the healing bite marks on his shoulder, and the other on his neck. She had bitten him more than once, usually while in the throes of passion and pain. He often disregarded the fact that she was a human, weakened by her time in hell, and was usually violent and animalistic while making love to her. She pulled herself up to him, inhaling his scent deeply before tentatively licking at the wounds she had inflicted on him. He purred at her, obviously sensing his mate. He pulled her back down underneath himself, cradling her once again as he cocooned himself around her.
They lay together on their bed of hay, stone walls and bars surrounding them. This was their home now, slayer and scourge, surviving the only way they knew how; together, yet alone, now as feral beasts.
He could have taken over hell, ruling all and controlling everything, but he had been looked at as a traitor - a traitor that had fallen in love with a slayer. He had murdered many in her name, causing them both much pain and suffering, but he couldn’t allow them to touch her. They couldn’t take what was rightfully his.
“Mine,” he breathed softly into her hair, “Buffy, mine.”
She pressed herself closer to his cool body and purred back at him. He held her as close to his body as possible and let himself relax, his angry mask of a face slipping away.
“Angel,” she sighed, nuzzling against the softness of his chest. “Aaaangel, mine.”
Her quiet voice slipped into the silence of their prison, bouncing off the walls of his mind and helped him drift off again to another, restless sleep.