Chapter 19: First Date
The extended Council, which gathered every single Watcher present in London, including Watchers in training, had been divided in small groups, each of them focusing on a particular topic under the supervision of a member of the High Council. No replacement to Quentin Travers had been designated yet, and none would until a new charter had been adopted to establish what was already called the New Council.
Andrea and Giles, because they were responsible for the turn events had taken, had been asked to go from group to group to observe the work in progress. Giles wasn’t fooled by the maneuver, and understood that it was just a way to make sure they did not gain too much influence within one particular group.
A while before, he had seen Andrea leave the group she was supposedly observing and enter her father’s former office. Wondering what she was doing there, and bored senseless from listening to discussions about how to recruit Watchers more effectively, Giles eventually managed to follow her. When he entered the room, she was sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the massive desk, very still and apparently so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t acknowledge his presence until he placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Rupert, I didn’t hear you come in,” she said almost apologetically.
“I see that,” he replied. “What were you thinking about so intensely, if I may ask?”
She rose from the chair and leaned against the desk, facing Giles.
“I am just wondering where my father is now,” she said quietly, a slightly worried tone in her voice. “I wish the Council had decided to keep an eye on him. He is very much capable of rallying the Watchers that did not witness his demise and to create a new group to work against us. He knows so much about the Council of Watchers, he could easily destroy it if he wanted to.”
Giles nodded thoughtfully. Andrea had expressed pretty much the same ideas three days before in front of the High Council, and so had he, but despite all that they had recently learned about him, no one had believed that the ex head watcher would go as far as to destroy what he had worked for during most of his life. All they knew now was that Travers had left London, and they only knew that because Andrea had tried to visit him and been informed by her old nanny of his departure.
“If he does try to strike at us,” Giles said with more confidence than he really felt, “we will counter him. His reign is over. Do not worry yourself too much over him.”
As Andrea gave him a small smile, Giles felt suddenly compelled to clean his spotless glasses. Not watching her directly might help for what he wanted to say next.
“I was wondering if you would like… that is, there is a very nice restaurant just a few streets away… we’ve all been working so hard for the last few days that a little quiet time…”
That didn’t quite sound like the elegant line he had practiced, but she seemed to understand the point behind the hesitations.
“I’d be glad to, Rupert. It would be a nice change to talk of something else than work. That is, if you want to.”
Was he imagining things or was there suddenly a little more red in her cheeks? Of course, he was still pointlessly rubbing his glasses, so he might have been mistaken. Replacing them on his nose, he buried his hands in his pockets and tried not to fidget too much.
“Talking would be delightful. With you, I mean. Of other things. Or anything, actually.”
To his own ears, he sounded more than pathetic. He hadn’t had so much trouble asking a woman on a first date in… never, as a matter of fact. Not that he had done it very often, but it seemed to get even more difficult as he aged. Shaking his head lightly, he couldn’t help chuckling a little, amused as much as annoyed by his own clumsiness.
“You must think I’m a perfect idiot,” he said self-deprecatingly. “Here I am, a grown man, barely able to ask a lady to dinner without tripping over my own tongue. Pitiful.”
“Idiot or pitiful are not words I would ever apply to you,” Andrea replied with an indulgent smile. “Hesitant, maybe, or even shy, but then, in this particular domain, so am I.”
It was a strange admission, coming from the mouth of a woman who had the reputation of never being intimidated by anything or anyone.
“Things should get easier when we know each other better,” Giles said hopefully.
After all, they had really met just a few weeks earlier. Before that, they had barely ever exchanged anything more than salutations.
“Probably”, Andrea agreed very low, and again she was slightly blushing. “Though I wish we were already there. This way I wouldn’t have to wonder whether you will kiss me tonight.”
For a second, Giles stared at the woman in front of him, who was watching him levelly in return, despite the redness of her cheeks and her previous claims of shyness.
“If it might help,” he said, entering her game after clearing his throat, “I can admit that I am very likely to at least try.”
“Only try?” she asked, a delicate eyebrow arching questioningly as she took a step toward him.
“Well, if I knew whether my attempt will be welcome or not…”
“Oh, it will be welcome, have no doubt.”
As she grinned, halfway between seducing and shy, Giles realized how close she was now. So close that her perfume, a light rose fragrance, enveloped him. So close that he could see the fast beating of her pulse point, in total contrast to her apparent calm. The lady knew how to bluff, he thought with a touch of admiration. But then, so could he. He gave her his very best Ripper smirk.
“Why wait tonight then?” he whispered, and closed the distance that separated their lips.
*****
Silent as a hunting tigress, Buffy walked past Steven’s room, pausing for a second to make sure no one was stirring inside. Later, she would have time to deal with the two teens. Steven, she thought, might do quite well as a vamp; he already knew how to fight and only needed time to be as good as Angel or Spike. Dawn, on the other hand, with her whining and her weaknesses, would do a nice meal, but no more. Maybe Buffy would bring her to her Sire as a snack later.
Finally, she reached Angel’s room. There was some noise coming from inside, indicating that he was awake. Without knocking, she opened it and slipped in, locking the door behind her. She didn’t want to be interrupted.
As she stepped inside his room, in the small hours of the morning, clad only in a bathrobe, Angel froze where he stood next to the bed. All he wore was a black pair of pants, and he was drying his hair with a towel. To say that he looked startled was quite an understatement.
“Buffy?” he asked, the worry evident in his voice. “Is something wrong?”
Unconsciously, she moistened her lips as her eyes traveled over him. She had forgotten how yummy he looked. So different from her yummy Spike, as different as night from day, but just as delicious to look at. He seemed to become very self-conscious under her gaze, and stopped drying his hair, reaching instead for the gray shirt that was lying on the bed.
“Nothing’s wrong”, she finally answered his question, a small smile playing on her lips.
Yes, something was indeed very wrong, but she would soon make it right again. Many years before, a man called Liam had been born, certainly for no other destiny than to become a vampire and bring mayhem to the world. And there was no denying that Angelus had been quite gifted in that regard. A real artist of violence and murder. Until the so sad night he had been replaced by a weakling answering to the name of Angel. Buffy had brought back Angelus once; she very much intended to bring him back to the world again. And then, all three of them, maybe four if she decided to turn Steven, would have the time of their unlives.
As she let her thoughts wander to the hell they would bring to Sunnydale, California, and the world in general, Buffy had come closer to Angel, and she was now close enough to reach to his half buttoned shirt and check that it was silk, as she had thought. She chuckled as he took a step back, still looking awfully uncomfortable.
“Did you want anything?” he asked, frowning and catching her hand as it was reaching toward him again.
“Don’t we all always want something?” she purred seductively, sitting on the unmade bed without taking her eyes off him.
As she lay there on her side, she was aware that she was exposing quite a nice amount of flesh, and Angel probably had a hard time not looking at the cleavage she revealed. It amused her slightly that his eyes, and his frown, kept being directed at her face.
“I think you need to leave,” he said in a strong tone. “Spike will be wondering where you are.”
So, seduction wasn’t working. Buffy was very curious to know whether he was completely over her or whether he was just wary of Spike’s reaction if he found her half naked on Angel’s bed. She would have time to request a truthful answer from him later, but she doubted very much that all his feelings for her were gone. Maybe it would be different after; Angelus had never had much of a human side, but it wouldn’t matter, she would be his Sire and it would be enough.
Still, if he wasn’t coming to her willingly, she would have to try something else. Kneeling on the bed so that she was just in front of him, she locked her gaze to his, following instincts that she knew were coming straight from her demon.
“Let me in,” she cooed. “Show me your thoughts and your dreams, let me make them true for you.”
As she started rocking slightly from side to side, Angel’s body echoed her motion, and his eyes became slightly glazed as they remained in hers. She could have done this without his consent and without the thrall, but after all dusting vampires had no secrets for him, and she did not fancy becoming ashes because he didn’t understand fast enough that it was a gift she was offering him. When she was sure he was in her control, she moved back on the bed, still on her knees, beckoning him to climb in front of her.
“I will give the world back to you,” she whispered.
At the same time, she trailed her fingertips on his forehead and down his cheek, caressing lightly. He turned his head just enough for his lips to brush against her hand, and she smiled, satisfied. He had done this on his own, without her intervention through the thrall, which had to mean that deep down, he wanted it. He wanted her. Still going down her fingers traveled, along his neck, past two scars so old and so faint that they were hardly noticeable. As she reached his shirt, she undid the few buttons that were fastened and pulled on the fabric, exposing delectable looking flesh. She could hear the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat. He wasn’t afraid. Why would he be, she was offering him eternity. Even when she shifted to her game mask in front of his face, when she tilted his head, he didn’t stir, didn’t show any sign of surprise or fear, didn’t try to break through the thrall. Only when her fangs pierced his skin did he gasp ever so slightly. But to Buffy’s ears it was a sweet music. She had drunk from Angel shortly after being turned, but it compared in no way to the first, very first bite she was taking off a human. The warmth down her throat, the taste on her tongue, the beating of his heart in her ears… She had thought before that nothing could equal drinking from her Sire, but maybe she had been wrong. This was just glorious. It satisfied her demon’s hunger in a way it had never been satisfied before. Warm blood from a living human. So much of it. So good. She didn’t think she would ever get enough.