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While she was
sleeping.
Author: Dark
Star
Dark Star’s Portal
Rating: Soft Adult.
Summary: He’s not sure what the fascination is in
watching her sleep, but he’s been doing it for years.
*
She looks peaceful when she sleeps.
During the day she is full of stresses and strains. Her
obligations fall heavily on her, and she is always conscious of where the
next threat will be coming from. She doesn’t relax during the day.
When they love, her body is sated, but her mind is not.
She can never quite shut out what must be done, what should have been done,
and how many people she couldn’t save.
But she is peaceful when she sleeps.
He’s almost made a career out of watching her sleep. He
watched her before she came to Sunnydale. He watched her before they met in
that dingy alley. He watched her the night that The Three had him pinned
down in her room. He hadn’t slept, of course. How could he, when she was so
close? Instead, he’d used his unexpected opportunity to watch her, utterly
captivated by her innocence and beauty. Her sleep had been a beautiful
thing to watch. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be able to
relax so completely and just let sleep refresh you. His slumber was always
poisoned by the unconscionable things he’d done, but hers… he envied her
that peace.
For so many nights he has sneaked into her bedroom and
watched over her. Sometimes he lurks in the shadows of her room, and
sometimes he watches brazenly from the side of the bed, but always, this
woman draws him in. She would never know how many times he’d protected her
when evil sought her out, and a sleeping slayer is a vulnerable slayer.
He’s been her guard and her protector more times than she could ever
imagine. He views himself as her faithful servant. Watching, watching, and
he tells himself that it gives him the right to be with her.
Sometimes he watches her from beside the bed and his
eyes devour every inch of her. Her hair is so soft, her skin so perfect, he
wants to reach out and touch that perfection. Sometimes the strap of her
nightclothes slips, revealing much more of her skin than she ever shows
during the day, and it is sweet torture for him to be so near, yet so far
from her. It would be so easy to feel her warmth, or her skin, but he never
gives in to his desire to touch her. She is meant for somebody better than
him, and he is already getting more than he deserved.
Once he’d lost his soul he still used to go to her, the
demon drawn in just as much as the man had been. She was vulnerable to him
then, and he could have done anything he wanted. The inventive scenarios
dreamt up while he stood over her prone form horrified him now. Angelus
could have killed or raped her, and if anyone had asked him why he’d chosen
to draw her instead, would have said that killing her was too easy, and
playing with her head by letting her know that he’d been there and could
have hurt her was much more fun. Angel isn’t so sure that was the only
reason he hadn’t touched her.
Sometimes she would sleep at the Mansion, and watching
her was easier. He told himself he was keeping her safe by his vigil, but
he’s sure she would have been shocked if she’d known the role she took in
the fantasies he held in his head.
Sometimes when she stayed with him, he would lie next to
her. Often he was propped up on his arm to observe her but when she slept,
he would occasionally allow his body to accidentally touch hers, and
although he felt guilty about it, he still did it. He knew it was wrong to
want her so much, but he was willing to accept whatever crumbs he was able
to have, illicitly gained as they may have been.
But best of all were the times she’d allow him to hold
her and had fallen asleep in his arms. Those times were rare and precious
to him. It was the nearest he ever came to peace. It was almost as though
some of her goodness had passed to him, and the whimsy in that thought made
him frown. Leeching her peace was no worse than taking blood, and either
way, he was nothing more than a parasite. If it was a crime to love her, he
would pay for it. Gladly. For now, contentment and peace were his, and the
warmth would help sustain him through the hard times still to come. He knew
it was the best he could ever hope for; perfect happiness would never be
his again.
Once he left Sunnydale, it wasn’t so easy to watch her,
but sometimes he needed to make the journey. Her sleep was less restful
than before, full of disappointments and recriminations, and it broke his
heart; it shouldn’t be like that for her.
He’d enjoyed watching her sleep on the day he’d been
human. She had looked happy and peaceful and she’d told him her dream was
to be a normal girl falling asleep in the arms of her normal boyfriend.
When he remembered that day, the memories were bittersweet, because she had
no idea then that her happiness was about to be ripped away from her, and
all the things they’d shared on that special day would be gone forever.
When she returned from Heaven he had held her until she
fell into a restless, disturbed sleep. He’d tried to soothe her as best he
could but it hadn’t helped her much. How could it, when dying and returning
to Earth against her will had held too much pain for her? She wanted to go
back, needed to go back, but she wasn’t sure they would have her. She
thought that maybe Heaven had let her go because she hadn’t been good
enough, hadn’t been worthy, and she didn’t know what else she could give to
make that right. Watching her sleep had been painful, and he’d been angry
that her friends had taken her peace away. They’d had no right to put her
through that, no right to tear her away from her rightful place, and no
human being should ever be forced to pull themselves out of their own
grave.
So long ago. It had all happened so long ago and so much
has happened since then. The rise of the slayers, and vast influx of
demons, had brought them together once again, to do what they could to
survive.
Angel takes one last look at her before he goes out.
She looks peaceful when she sleeps.
While she sleeps, Angel hunts. There are always too many
perils, too much evil, and he knows he is at least partly responsible for
it. He fights until he feels the dawn approaching and then he goes home. He
has breakfast, a hot shower, and then heads for bed, and this is where he
always pauses.
He can never quite get used to her sharing his bed. She
is beautiful. She’s far too good for him, and he wonders how long it will
be before she realises she’s wasting her life while she’s with him. But for
now, he has heaven in his bed. He can’t help himself; he stands over the
bed and watches her. He is mesmerised by the steady intake of breath. The
blonde hair cascading down over the pillow fascinates him. His eyes follow
the pink strap of her nightdress, down over the curve of her breast and
settles on the little bird motif in the middle. He smiles at the whimsy,
and then he notices the little nipple trying to push through the thin
fabric and the smile is replaced by something else. A longing, a need to be
with her, and he pulls the covers back and gets in beside her.
He stretches out in the bed, his huge frame dwarfing
her, and he lasts for all of thirty seconds before his hand cups her
fabric-clad breast and squeezes. She moans in her sleep, but doesn’t wake.
Bolder, he pinches the nipple and plays with it, until finally, her hand
raises and covers his.
“Tired,” she mumbles.
Disappointed, he stops. Sleepily, she raises one arm and pleased, he scoots down
the bed to rest his head on her stomach. She likes him to do that, she
knows he loves to listen to the rhythm of her body, and though she’s still
partly asleep, she lazily strokes her fingers through is hair. He likes
that, and she can feel the appreciative low growl rumble all the way
through her stomach, and she moans, too.
Her hand travels to his shoulder and she presses on it
firmly. “Wake me slowly,” she whispers, and he understands immediately what
she is asking for. He moves, pushing the covers out of the way as he slides
further down the bed and settles between her legs.
While she was sleeping he watches her. But it’s better
when she is awake.
End
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