Title: On the Brink. A Darkness Within Drabble
Author: Califi Posted: 04 Nov 2006 Rating: R Category: Angst Content: Angel POV. Summary: My take on the Don't Make me Move you." Scene Spoilers: Reprise. S2 Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made. Distribution: Please ask. Notes: I wrote this shortly after asking Samsom for a sequel to her fic, Drawing Lines ... got impatient after five minutes had passed, (as ya do, lol) and ended up writing this. Luckily for me (and everyone else, lol), M went on to do the sequel after. But it never hurts having more than one take of the same scene, does it? This was an off-the-cuff, so please excuse the roughness. I did have a go at finetuning it, but decided it sounded better the way originally wrote. Thanks/Dedication: To M, for writing DL after I begged her, then following it up with an equally scrumptious sequel. *hugs* Feedback:My Muse thrives on it, lol. "Don't make me move you." So close I can see the outraged fury flaring from gold/green irises, it makes me want to match and surpass it; express my own in a way all too familiar. But either I don't because Wes is there on the sidelines, or deep within I'm not sure how far I'd go. So I push the urge down and promise myself it will happen. Soon. And I will choose carefully the where and when. Physical expression of rage towards humans is a luxury in my world. And I know it's not even needed just by looking into eyes that scream out shock, hurt and betrayal. My tongue can sometimes be as sharp a weapon as the one she is so quick to use. But expression though action is- has always been, my way, and that need right now burns though my gut like vitriolic acid when only my eyes can clash in combat with hers. Bleeding her dry with small sips to draw it out.... Breaking her wilful spirit before crushing her life between my hands. Those thoughts are quashed almost instantly. I would never want her broken or dead. Just the thought makes the cold sweat of fear bead my skin. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to do other things. The urge to let her have a taste up close and personal of what is truly under my skin. Something long-hidden to protect, fully unleashed with her as my private audience ... My mouth salivates at the thought - and abruptly drives me back and away, away from the temptation. Limited to words that can only hint at my darker desires: "I'm a vampire. Look it up." I leave and hope, for her sake, that our paths don't cross again...
~*~
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