No more ludicrous, I suppose, then fighting to save one
undead creature from the dark fate he hurtles forth to on
this night. Perhaps I am a silly man, bound to the dead by
a stereotypically tall, dark, and handsome hero, bound to
his salvation in the hopes that I may serve the light. I
hope that I may ease his pain, and in the easing, see just
a glimmer of appreciation in his velvet brown eyes.

That hope leaves me here tonight, shuffling through papers
after Cordelia and Gunn turn away, uncharacteristically
silent, into the thick darkness of the L.A. night. They
know I will not follow, and so leave me to do what I feel I
have to do. The silence in the menacing structure of the
old hotel permeates my cells, and I tremble in the strange
coolness that comes just before the dawn.

Each step I took up the staircase echoes in my head, steps
into a possibly deathly stupidity. I fear I have seen too
many glimpses of Angelus this past year and I have no
guarantee that I will not meet a grisly end here tonight.
Some part of me screams to turn, run to safety, run to
somewhere neither Angel nor Angelus can follow. But I have
forsaken wisdom, and my thudding heart accompanies my
footfalls over the threshold. The single lamp in the
corner of the room casts a warm golden glow over Angel’s
body, nude to the waist, stretched out on the huge, spartan
bed.

“Go.”

The single word reverberates in the stillness, halting my
movements instantly. I fight the urge to obey, stifling it
with the rebelliousness born in the moment when Angel dared
to fire his family. Through the riotous mess of mutiny and
subjugation in my mind, my intent gleams pure. Without
replying to Angel’s command in any way, I strip, my crisp,
clean clothing falling to the floor, settling in a heap of
cotton. Within moments, my smoothly nude body stands at
the foot of the bed. I hear the clock on the wall tick off
the seconds as I wait, nervously waiting for a reaction.
No such result is forthcoming; I make to crawl up onto the
bed, crushing the soft covers beneath my knee. I barely
get both legs up on the bed before I find myself flipped
over, a growling, golden-eyed Angel trapping my arms with
his own.

Just when I think he’s going to speak, utter something
completely destructive and cruel, the demon slides away
from his face to reveal little but sleep heavy eyes and the
puzzled look he frequently gives when presented with
something he’s unsure about. I take a deep breath,
immediately regretting the action when my raising chest
brushes against his, a dizzyingly tempting feeling, an
intimate brush with the dark.

A frozen moment, and the kaleidoscope of fury, temptation,
and blood ruling Angel flashes through the brown orbs. I
am totally unsure of his thoughts, but I am familiar enough
with my own. Dumbly, fatalistically, I kiss him, quickly
pressing my dry, closed lips to his parted, blood moist
ones. Another heartbeat, and I find my mouth invaded, wet,
cold, Angel ravaging me with his tongue.

Soon, accompanied by the slick, gliding sounds of lube on
skin, his hands grip my hips, and he delves into me, his
physical body such a small part of what he does to me. My
eyes barely open to register the surprisingly unshocking
cold slide of fangs into my neck, as Angel crosses one more
line away from redemption.

Obviously, I do not resist. Indeed, I can do nothing but
accept, and accept, and whisper for mercy as he rips me
open, not an entirely new experience for me. It does not
last long; he hardly cares if I find pleasure. The
experience has excited me no more than handling myself in
the course of urinating would.

What happens next does surprise me, and comforts me at the
same time. Rather than toss me off the bed, Angel curls
around my body, as if I were his kill and he were
protecting it. A quick slice of his own fangs against his
wrist and he holds the dripping flesh out to me. A moments
hesitation, knowing he can not turn me unless I have been
drained, and I lick at the blood, seeping out slowly. The
liquid stings my tongue, and my senses scream an alarm,
this is unnatural, this is wrong, this will change you.
Flashes of my heat, my mortality, howl around me, begging
me not to cross over with Angel, not to finish whatever
wicked deed my employer has instigated.

Of course, I shove them back, back behind memories of abuse
and rape. This is what I want. For once, I will take it.

I will let Angel consume me.