The Danger Of My Soul


AUTHOR: Amy

EMAIL: Slvrbttn@aol.com

SPOILERS: Graduation Day

RATING: A mild NC17 for remembrance of "that night."

SUMMARY: Angel's POV in the season finale

DISCLAIMER: Joss. Duh.

FEEDBACK: It's always appreciated. (Amy wins the understatement of the century award.) As always, thanks to the Goddess with the pen. :)


To describe the power flowing through Buffy is impossible. Her heart sings as it pumps her blood, for her blood is the richest and most beautiful liquid on earth. And I know. I've tasted it.

I don't think I could describe how close I came to losing my soul as my fangs slid into her skin. The blood that bubbled into my mouth instantly blanked most of my senses, and I was blind with hunger for her, wanting and need. She is my passion, my weakness, my love and my strength. Triumph over having had the honor of loving her fills me every time I see her large eyes, and I'm overcome with a feeling so pure and clean and true that one who has never felt it would never understand.

So, even as she forced my mouth to her neck, and I feebly resisted, I knew that it was going to come to this. And then my lips were on her skin, tasting her as I have a hundred times before, and I could feel the blood throbbing hotly through her veins. I didn't want to resist, I confess. I bit her.

Mind numbing pleasure is what accompanied her life flow ebbing into me. She grasped my arms weakly, but I paid no attention; I couldn't have focused on that, even if I had wanted to. Her leg then snaked up mine, and I was reminded of that night in my bed, so long ago, when we had touched as intimately as two humans can. If not for the small, weak knowledge that I was hurting her, my soul would have been lost. Possibly forever.

I was making little groans and grunts of pleasure, even before we fell to the ground, because the taste of her blood was so hot, so majestic in my mouth. It was better than sliding into her, burying myself in her warmth. I was reminded of her slick, hot, tense channel, what she had given so freely to me, the taste of her breasts on my lips. We had touched each other all over that night. Ecstasy tripled, my tongue slipping into the folds that led to the center of her body, her mouth crying out my name over and over. That was perfection. And still this was better. A miraculous thing happened then.

I tasted her love.

I hadn't known before that love was something that one can taste, but it's true. The taste of young lovers in your mouth is always sweeter and far more luxurious, but I had never wondered why. Buffy's blood screamed with her love for me... Almost as if I was the one she was living for, almost as if without me, her heart would refuse to beat.

A whimper knifed into my drugged consciousness, and I realized what I was doing. I yanked back, and her arms slid to the ground uselessly, helplessly, even as I called her name for reassurance. Her eyes were closed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, in the hospital, I had a confrontation with the Mayor. Without understanding how it was possible, a simple shove made him fly across the room and be slammed into the far window. I looked on in amazement as he chuckled and stood, dusting himself off.

"Well! It looks like somebody's been eating his spinach," he said, almost brightly before he left the room.

It was then that I knew I had to leave.

If I had entertained thoughts of even possibly staying with her before, they were banished with the comprehension that stabbed at me then. Buffy's blood. The blood pumped by a heart that beat solely for me, had given me a strength beyond any I had ever known. The blood that I could still taste on my lips and tongue was more than power, more than passion and lust and heat and strength. It was her, her inside me, and I knew that I would never be able to be around her again without feeling the sweetness of being linked to her.

And I couldn't risk that. I couldn't risk being that satisfied, that whole... that saved.

Not for me. Not for the world. For Buffy, who took my heart and kept it with her, even after I had sworn that it would never see the light of day again. I couldn't hurt her. I couldn't see her anymore.

It had come to a stalemate. Where we were so attuned to each other's soul that we would easily give up our own life for the other. No matter what situation I got into, I could never risk her life; it was too important. *She* was too important. And knowing that she loved me that much-- enough to save my life by sacrificing her own-- made me weep unabashedly. We would do that for each other. *She* would do that for *me,* who had caused her so much grief. Which was another reason I had to go.

I laid a gentle kiss on her lips before leaving the hospital room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I told her that I would leave without saying goodbye. Barely three words into the speech that I had half-heartedly prepared, she stopped me, holding up her palm and then slowly clenching it into a fist, as if to catch the words she didn't want to hear.

Remorse washed over me, a chilling wave of sorrows. Even as I closed my mouth, I could feel the tears behind my eyelids. Buffy had a blank look on her face, quiet, closed-off, and cold. But I could see that she was trying not to cry too. I could hear the sadness in her blood as it whipped through her body.

And I shivered, walking quickly away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the battle was over and we had all survived, I headed off the campus without saying goodbye, as I had told her I would. Buffy was safe, and that was closure enough for me. Or so I thought.

On the curb of the school, my feet slowly turned back of their own accord. I began walking, quickly, furiously, as I could hear her calling to me. My walk burst into a run, and my feet pounded against the pavement as I rushed to see her. Just to look at her, touch her once more, I said to myself. As it was, even that turned out to be too much.

I stopped standing in the middle of two or three firetrucks and an ambulance. The smoke fumes drifted in front of my eyes, but I waited, and they cleared. And then there she was.

My legs wanted to run to Buffy, my arms wanted to scoop her up, tightly like I used to. But I wouldn't let them. I simply stood and waited and watched her, my heart calling out over the distance for her to see me. She was talking to Giles, and I could feel the exhaustion seeping through her limbs and mind. She was weary, mind weary, and her heart was almost broken, thinking that I was gone.

I wished her heart to mine, crying out for her to hear me. She looked up.

Our eyes caught. She looked like she, too, wanted to run to me, but wouldn't let herself. I tried to tell her without saying anything. I tried to tell her everything without uttering a word. And I think she understood. "Buffy," I was saying to her, "I love you. I love you. I love you." A thousand times my heart shouted that to her, and I could hear hers shouting back, that she loved me too, that she lived for me and would die for me, and would always wait for me. The danger of losing my soul was back, our bond was so complete in that moment. She could feel me, sense my presence in a way she hadn't been able to before, and I could do the same.

As we stared at each other, trying to decide whether it was safe to speak out loud, whether it was allowed or not, I felt such a poignant warmth flow over me. Buffy's blood, Buffy's heart, her love, her passion. I was her strength, too, I was her greatest weakness and biggest triumph. Everything we felt for each other topped the other one's feelings until they could no longer be topped and matched perfect, evenly, in a place of love rarely known.

That was all I had needed, all either of us did. I slowly took my eyes off of her and walked into the smoke and the fog. I felt her gaze on my back, pleading for me to stay, but finally understanding fully why I could not.

I realized that the danger of losing my soul slipped out of my grasp as I walked away. Because it was no longer just my soul.

It was hers as well.

 

The End


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