Her
voice drifted through the open window, carried easily on the slight
breeze, low and heavy. The shadow of her movement flickering through
the gauzy curtains, her only barrier to the outside world. He licked
his lips as she stretched, body highlighted in lamp light.
“Yes,
that’s right, Sarah with an H. Please come by before noon
as I have a meeting. Oh. Well, in that case, please make sure you
lock up after you leave. Who knows what’s out there these
days. Yes, thank you.”
The
young woman hung up the phone and Angelus leaned closer to the glass,
hand barely resting on the half open pane. She moved towards a new
stack of boxes and began pulling books out, old books, books the
Watcher would love. There were some with binding so old they flaked
off in her hand, and each time she uttered a soft sigh of regret
before gently laying the book aside.
She
hummed to herself as she worked, soft songs, old songs, and Angelus
was intrigued. Her fingers drummed easy rhythms on the soft pages
of her texts, but she appeared not to notice. She was oblivious
to the world around her, almost deliberately vulnerable. A soft
line of pale skin appeared under her shirt hem as she reached, just
a tantalizing glimpse, and Angelus growled.
When
he’d seen her walking past the Espresso Pump the night before,
he’d been intrigued. Innocence touched by madness, the grace
of a woman who blinked and lost the world. He’d followed her
for blocks, watching the way her arms swung lightly at her side,
the way she seemed to dance with things that only she could see.
It
reminded him hauntingly of Drusilla before he’d molded her,
another untouched canvas just this step away from the rest of her
kind, someone who lived with her dreams like they were real. She
held a breath of sincerity in gait, and when she sang to herself,
it was without thought or care.
Angelus
ran his fingers over the wood framing the window of her small apartment.
It was obvious she was new here, for whatever reason choosing to
move to a place where death came knocking. He wondered if her work
brought her here, or something else. A desire to escape from the
normalcy of the rest of the country, retreating to a place where
the fantastical and surreal were just around the corner.
Perhaps
she’d wanted to find a place where her dreams would walk,
her fantasies live in the daylight world. This pleased Angelus as
he turned away, plucking a gardenia blossom from the plant by her
front stoop. He brought it to his nose, breathing deeply, before
laying it on her step. He thought he’d very much like to see
what her dreams were made of, see if she was as lost as she seemed.
When
this pesky problem with the Slayer was taken care of, he’d
see about finding out whether she’d like to dance. Once Buffy
was dead, he’d come calling again. See if Sarah wanted to
have a cup of coffee, see if she’d let him into her life.
Then the real games would begin.
Smiling
softly to himself, Angelus cut across the park to head back to the
mansion. He’d already haunted the Slayer once today and her
pathetic whining about her situation was nauseating. Deciding to
settle his stomach, he startled a couple on a park bench and had
himself a little snack. He wiped his mouth on the girl’s dress,
savoring the scent of fear on soft skin and went on his way. Angelus
wondered how sweet Sarah’s skin would taste, how her fear
would soak into the air, covering him. He touched his fingers to
his lips and smiled.
~Fin~
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