Title: "Flies in the Vasoline" (1/1)
AUTHOR: Serena
E-MAIL: rdbdaws0n@aol.com
SYNOPSIS: My attempt at getting into Angel's head at the end of 'Reprise'. Key word? *Attempt*.
DISCLAIMER: ::glare:: They're not mine. They belong to Joss. He lets others play with them, but I'm not one of those people. Title comes from the Stone Temple Pilots song "Vasoline". Song lyrics are from ::deep breath:: "Vasoline", "Big Empty", and "Silvergun Superman" by the Stone Temple Pilots; "My Own Prison" by Creed; "Pardon Me" by Incubus; "Outside" by Aaron Lewis and Fred Durst; "Long Way Down" by The Goo Goo Dolls; and "Hello Time Bomb" by the Matthew Good Band.
RATING: Heavy R/light NC-17 for some freakiness, language, and sex.
CONTENT: Darla/Angel, Angel POV
TIMELINE: The end of 'Reprise'.
SPOILERS: 'Reprise' specifically, all of A:tS Season 2. Consider everything we know about Angel spoiled, I guess.
DISTRIBUTION: My site, http://www.angelfire.com/ny2/serenav/index.html; anyone else that wants it just has to ask. I'm cheap and easy.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, I had to try. It's not good, but...points for effort, right? (*This is a lyric, they're spread throughout the story*).
FEEDBACK: Remember, if you don't have anything nice to say...well, you can say it to me. I can take it. Feedback will be loved, appreciated, cherished, and individually replied to.
DEDICATION: For Lucy.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(*long way down*)
(*i don't think i'll make it on my own*)

Evil.

Evil everywhere. In everything. Everyone.

Why fight something that has that much power? It's fed by every person, every animal, everything in this world. Only the naive think they can fight it and win.

But that's not me. Not anymore. You see, I know the truth now. I've been enlightened. Enlightened to the fact that I'll never win. Good will never win.

How can it when no one wants it to?

(*flies in the vasoline we are*)

Holland was right. The bastard was fucking right. I look around me now, at the drug dealers and the whores. At the business men and women, at the husbands rushing home after cheating on their wives. At the world.

(*sometimes it blows my mind*)

It's so dark. Dark and cold. When did it come so cold? It was never this cold before. This is L.A., Southern California. It's always supposed to be warm. Where did the warmth go? Did it go the way of good?

A drunk bumps into me, mumbling in his intoxicated stupor. In an alley two tom cats fight for dominance, for power. Who has the biggest balls? How long will it take to rip them off? Who'll be consumed more by the rage, who will stand victorious?

(*keep getting stuck here all the time*)

Flesh and blood and marrow. That's what we are. But it's not all we are. We're evil incarnate, created to hurt, destroy. I am, too -- but at least I have an excuse. I have a demon that shares my body, a demon who whispers to me constantly, who was free for a hundred and fifty years and who did more destruction and ruined more lives than I thought possible. And I try and atone, but I now know I'll never be able to. No redemption for Angel. Do not pass go. Do not collect shanshu.

The world is empty. The people who live their lives but never really *live*, who pass through life by merely existing, blaming others for their problems, move by me. I'm numb to them, numb to everything. There's that damn cold again. Why do I feel so helpless?

(*too much walkin', shoes worn thin*)

Walking is taking too much effort. I feel like I'm weighed down by corruption, by everything I can't fight. Faces blur together in an endless myriad, and I wonder how many times each of them has given in to evil. And to think that once upon a time I had believed in them. I thought they were good. Pure. Able to resist the temptation.

I don't know why I ever gave them that kind of credit.

I feel stripped down, naked and vulnerable. Holland peeled away the layers of self-worth I had built up, everything I've ever fucking believed in, and beneath I'm bare. Hollow. Like all of them. There's nothing real anymore, it's all false. Fake. Nothing matters, nothing anyone does matters. I thought I knew what I was, who I was, what the fuck I was sent here to do...but why fight a losing battle? Why try to save people who don't want to be saved?

(*too much trippin' and my soul's worn thin*)

I thought I could touch them. Reach out to them, change their lives. Show them the good inside themselves and maybe, through them, see the good inside of me. Maybe I even did, once. But not anymore. I can't believe in them. Hell, I can't even believe in myself. Everything I knew is a lie. I fought, thinking I could change people. Change the world. Win the war. But there is no war because evil is everywhere, it can't be fought, it can't be stopped. Not when it is embedded in the core of every being on this earth.

It's so cold, and I can't tell if it's the air or if it's inside me. Probably both. Frigid, hollow. The feelings I've been living with ever since I gave in, when I allowed myself to be blinded by revenge. But it hurts now...why does it hurt so much? And at the same time it's numbing, and I can't feel a thing.

It's probably better that way. But it's still so cold. I step into the hotel and I don't even know where I am anymore. It's home, and yet it's not because my home is empty and bleak now, a hundred fucking rooms for me to be all alone in. Dark. Depressing. A hide-out for when things get to be too hard.

Don't face.

Duck and run.

It's dark and dank and messy...it never was this messy before. Dust. Cobwebs. I feel like they're covering my soul.

That damn machine beeps, and her voice fills the silent room. Is she *mocking* me? Blaming me? Of course, it's all my fault. Everything is my fault. I'm not strong enough, not brave enough, not good enough. Silly little Kate...giving in to evil, giving in to the temptation. Trying to end all the pain, all the suffering. What does she expect me to do, to save her too?

I'm not fucking Jesus Christ.

(*pardon me while i burst into flames*)
(*i've had enough of the world and its people's mindless games*)

I can't save anyone from themselves. Once upon a time, I thought I could. Now I know I can't, and that's why I shut the machine off, cut her off. Let her die. What's another death on my conscious? Really, it's not a big deal. Just another one I couldn't save. Another one I helped to kill.

The stairs take forever; the climb never seemed this long before. Finally, the sanctuary of my room. My escape.

And yet she's there, I can feel her behind me. What the fuck does she want? Hasn't she taken enough from me? I have nothing more to give. Every last piece of me was left in that elevator. What would she want with something this hollow?

(*find you in the dark*)

"What do you want, Darla?" I growl. Gotta give the bitch credit, she doesn't flinch. I hold up the ring that I thought would bring about my end...well, it actually did. Although death would have been much, much kinder. Which is why I didn't deserve it. Wanna escape. Let go. But I don't know how, not anymore. What do I fight? What do I have to lose? "You want this?"

(*read you like a cheap surprise*)

Disgusted, I throw it to the ground. She clamors for it, dropping to her hands and knees greedily. And suddenly I snap, because she's here, and she can make me feel.

She can make me forget. But the kicker, the thing that fucking brings the Scourge of Fucking Europe to my humble little knees is that I don't think I can forget. The cold won't let me. I'm trapped. Like a fly in a spider's web. No getting loose. What lies out there is so much worse...maybe it's better that way.

Only one way to find out.

(*hello time bomb, i'm ready to go off*)

"Or how 'bout this?" I say, hauling her to her feet and slapping her. Hard. Bone cracks and I feel a surge of power because I can still make others feel. I can still hurt. Her head whips around with the force of my blow and I smell blood, her blood. Sire blood. She stumbles and I catch her, whip her around.

I push her up against the wall, holding her there. No escape. Never any escape...not that she wants one. I can tell she wants this. She loves this, always has; the pain, the agony, the power. She craves it like I do, like we crave blood and the kill and each other.

Her hair's in the way and I push it away gently, tracing over the beautiful scars I created on her face. "Or, maybe, what you really want..." I lick at the blood at the corner of her mouth, growling softly, "Is this." The essence of every creature, the source of all life...it's intoxicating. I don't know if it's intoxicating because it's blood...or because it's hers. Not that it matters a whole lot. Nipping her lips, I'm imitating the bite. A vampire's kiss. She's soft, so soft. I haven't felt anything this soft in a long time...much, much too long.

(*sell me out and frame your name*)

She's kissing me back and I know she wants this. Maybe she's tired of the cold too. Maybe she doesn't want to feel empty anymore. Maybe she's just horny. I really don't care the reason, I only care that she's responding.

And then she pushes me away, and her voice is laced with venom as she says,
"Don't play games with me."

"I'm not playing. I just wanna feel something besides the cold."

And there it is. The truth. I push her, not sure if I'm pushing her down or pushing her away. She stumbles and steadies herself on my desk, and I attack. Cradled between her thighs, we kiss punishingly, bruisingly.

Obsession is a funny thing. A wicked, tricky little creature. Makes you crazy. Or maybe it just lets you be crazy. All I know is I let it guide me, let it take away all my inhibitions so that I could feel again. I didn't
care what the fuck I felt, as long as it was something that reminded me I was alive.

Is this what falling feels like?

The bitch starts laughing. She laughs as I fucked her mouth with my tongue, and I pull away in anger. "What are you laughing at?" I hiss. She doesn't answer, just stares at me with a crazed look and giggles madly. Like Dru used to. Outraged, I grab her by the neck and throw her through the glass doors leading to the bedroom.

(*life's for the living*)
(*so check me tomorrow*)
(*see if i'm kidding*)

She flies through them and that power overwhelms me again. I don't know if I want to fuck her or kill her. Which will make me feel more alive? Which will make me lose my soul so I don't have to deal with this shit anymore? Can I even lose it anymore? What the fuck is perfect happiness?

I smell her fear now. It's faint, but it's there. And it makes me feel again. It makes me tingle. Sick, sure. But at this point I don't fucking care what emotions I experience, as long I have them. She looks so helpless laying there like a rag doll...it's really a turn-on.

"Don't you feel the cold?" Haul her up again. Get her at eye level so she can see I'm serious. This isn't some fucking little mind game. This is real.

This is it, baby. Rock fucking bottom.

I want to feel again. She can make me feel, I know it, if I let her. If she lets me. She'll make the cold go away.

(*touch me now and i don't care*)
(*when you take me i'm not there*)

"What are you doing?"

"It doesn't matter. None of it matters." Her hair is silky, like it's always been. In a moment she submits to me....or maybe I submit to her. It doesn't matter because something passes through us and I toss her onto the bed, following her down. We hit the pillows and are attacking each other's mouths again, not able to get enough. Hands grasp at clothing, pulling it out of the way. I grab a fistful of breast and twist, delighting in her squeal of pain.

(*almost human, but i'll never be the same*)

And then the clothes are gone and I'm thrusting into her for the first time in nearly a hundred years. She digs her heels (never got around to taking off her pumps) into my back and tries to meet my thrusts, but she can't. I'm going too fast, trying to get deeper. If I get deep enough, maybe I'll be able to feel the warmth I'm looking for.

(*is there anything to feel?*)
(*is it pain that makes you real?*)

Maybe, if I submerge myself so deeply into the darkness that I'm not able to breathe, to see, to feel anything but it...it'll cleanse me. Make me whole again. Make me remember what it is I used to believe in.

But that's wishful thinking. I thrust wildly into her, mad in my search for release. I don't care if she gets pleasure from this, although I can tell that she is by the way she's moaning and writhing beneath me. All I care about is me. It's all about me, me and my problems and insecurities and issues. Fuck her, fuck the world, fuck my curse, fuck the Powers. If I get deep enough, maybe the torment will stop.

(*cut me off before it kills me*)

Before I know it I'm roaring in satisfaction as I spill into her. It's slightly surprising that I don't need her blood to come--but then again, I haven't been with a woman since that cold day in November with Buffy, so it's kind of expected that I wouldn't need much. I feel like collapsing, but I'm still hard as a rock. She keens into my mouth as she comes too and then I roll us over so that she's on top.

"Ride me, bitch. You know what I like," I say, my hands on her hips. She smirks and squeezes me hard enough to bruise.

"Oh yeah, baby. I know."

(*wait for me, take a dive*)
(*take a piece of my life*)
(*leave me numb*)
(*close to me, and i'll leave you numb*)

So I sit back and watch as she begins working herself up and down on my cock. Each time she sits up I can see my cock glistening with our combined juices. My mind strays as the pleasure intensifies and I block out her screams easily. A long-forgotten prayer springs to mind--which, considering I'm in the middle of fucking my sire for the first time in nearly a century, is kinda ironic. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned...well, we've all sinned. Sin and greed and revenge and evil and lust and darkness rule this world.

They're slaves to it. I thought I could fight it, help people fight it. Now I know that no one wants me to. It feels too good to give up, to give in. God gets it. I was raised Catholic, I know. He sins, just like veryone.
Why ask for his forgiveness? Doesn't give a shit about any of us. We're all probably better off that way.

She's screaming again. She's screaming his name. Angelus. I rear up and throw her off me, twisting her body and plunging into her from behind. She yells at the new invasion. "It's me fucking you, Darla. Not him. *Angel*." I pump into her and feel myself close. This position doesn't let me do the thing I'm wanting to, so I pull out, turn her over, and drive into her again.

(*dirty enough i got me a love*)
(*and it's so bad, it's so bad*)

"I never knew you had this in you, *Angel*," she moaned.

She had no idea. But she would. My face changes and I swoop down, sinking my fangs deeply into her neck. I feel hers prick me and she slurps my blood as I drink from her and we come together. Pulling away, our mouths red with blood, we kiss hungrily, harshly, painting each other's face crimson.

The edge is off, now, but that doesn't mean I'm about to stop. The fucking is just as fierce and we do it over and over again, screams and roars filling the silent old hotel, seeming to bring it to life, if only for a few moments.

But it's enough.

Do we even have paths? Or do we just give in at the same times, when faced with the same things? Destiny. What a fucking joke. I used to believe in it. Buffy made me believe. Now...it's another empty thing. Not real. Nothing's real but evil.

Well, evil and lust. And right now, I've got more than enough of that to go around. What is this, the sixth, seventh time? They all meld together in a haze of pleasure and satisfaction, and yet with each one I'm being forced to accept the knowledge that what I'm looking for isn't inside of her. I wanted to feel something besides the cold, and all she *is* is cold. Even deep inside of her, where my cock is embedded, is cold, cold and dead. Like me. Like us. Whatever it is I'm looking for, I won't find it fucking her.

But it takes my mind off things.

Hours later we collapse, preternatural stamina not able to hold up any longer. My sheets stink of me and her and sex and blood, and I know after this night I'm going to burn them. I lie awake as she falls asleep curled away from me because sleep would be an escape, and I can't seem to indulge in even that luxury right now.

(*i'm on the outside, i'm lookin' in*)
(*i can see through you, see your true colors*)

Stuck. We're all stuck. Every living thing is stuck in this endless wheel of evil. Temptation is too great. Give in to it. The holy wars -- all the wars. The Holocaust. Death. Blood. Revenge. Humans are sick little fuckers. Dark sides win. Evil wins. Why else would young children shoot their classmates at school, why would parents beat their kids, why would men abuse their wives? Why do people kill to get ahead? Why fight the inevitable?.

(*'cause inside you're ugly*)
(*you're ugly like me*)

I've seen the light. Once upon a time, I thought I could make a difference. Help. Save. I see it now, though. And it's not light that's before me, it's darkness. In everyone. In me. Mocking me. Haunting me. She's beside me, it's inside me, it's all around me.

I know now. I can't stop anything. Can't change anything. I'm on the wheel, just like everyone else.

There's corruption in me, in everything. No one fights it, they just nurture it. Let it grow like a flower...when it's really a cancer. It grows and explodes and twists humans into demons. It's unstoppable.

It feels differently, now. In the moments before sleep, I feel something changing inside me. And I don't want to face it, because I'm afraid of what it is. Denial is such a beautiful thing. I lick at a stray drop of blood on the corner of my lips, close my eyes, and sink gratefully into oblivion.

I'm fucked.

We all are.

(*we're all held captive*)
(*out from the sun*)
(*a sun that shines on only some*)
(*we the meek are all in one*)

--END