The Slayer was in town. Not Buffy. The other one. Angelus was only mildly curious, but not enough so to really make it any of his business. After all, he wasn’t so much into Slayers these days. Didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun with it. He took a drag from his cigarette.
"You’re late to the party, Faithy.”
make me choose:
requested by scarlettvampire and anon
BtVS 2.22 - AtS 2.15 - AtS 5.15
Angel being stabbed with swords (and becoming increasingly less bothered by it).
favorite character meme - [3/5] episodes - Becoming
Angelus: That’s everything, huh? No weapons…no friends…no hope. Take all that away, and what’s left?
Resigned, finally, hat he wasn’t gonna talk to her except to be mean, Sky sulked along his side. She huffed out a short unneeded breath and straightened her shirt and skirt. Why did mommy Dru talk about him all the time? He was just big and grouchy. She shot a look up at him, he made he feel tinier than usual.
The brat was finally quiet. Good. He continued along the sidewalk. Angelus figured if he showed the kid the pet store in question, he could leave her to it and go about his business. It took a while, a walk spent in complete silence, before they stopped in front of the darkened store front.
Looking at him now, Darla remembered how she had discovered his cursed soul all those years ago, and how bitter it had made her. She was distraught, and in her upset and disgust at the filthy intrusion of his soul she’d cast him away and disowned him. One hundred and fifty years of violence, vengeance and some sick, drawn out lover’s escapade gone in an instant. She even mourned it, without a beating heart and a soul of her own. And it had angered her beyond all belief.
This was new. She felt something like happiness twist deep inside her and drew closer, only moving near enough to place a pale, dainty hand against his chest, where the heart failed to beat beneath cold skin and crisp, dark shirt. Darla glanced up at him through impish green eyes.
"How do I know you won’t pull something stupid? You staked me. Turned me to dust," she reminded him with a bite to her voice that let him know that it still infuriated her to this day. "But you were different then." A wry smile tugged at full, rouged lips. "This is like old times, darling. Without Dru and Spike, I hate to say."
The smirk was still on his lips while Darla spoke, the bite in her voice barely phasing him. After all, they’d had a century and a half together. He knew, however, in most cases it was better to let it go than to goad her—and he chose the safer path for the time being. His smirk turned into a grin. “So I did,” he commented. “And so I was. It was a phase, nothing permanent.” Not any more, at least. “Are you gonna hold it against me?”
His arm automatically slipped around her waist to draw her close against him in a familiar embrace. He looked down at her. “You know, I do miss the old gang, but something about this is making me nostalgic. Remember Madrid?” His words exited in a slight chuckle.