Title: Making an Angel
Author: Seersha
Rating: PG-14
Pairing: Darla/Angelus
Disclaimer: The characters of Liam/Angelus and Darla, and the situations presented in BtVS and ANGEL, belong to Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, the WB and Mutant Enemy. Not mine.
Spoilers: "Becoming: Part One" and "The Prodigal"
Distribution: If you want it, take it. If you want to post it on your site, you can. But just let me know about it, okay?
Summary: Darla's POV.
Author's Notes: This is my first D/A fanfic, so I don't know it it's any good, or if I've written Darla very well. I'd really appreciate some feedback. Tell me what you think.
Feedback: saveangel@yahoo.com
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Galway, Ireland, 1753.

I happened to arrive in Ireland simply for somewhere new to explore. Having been a alive for over a hundred years as a vampire, already I'd explored a great deal of the known world.

The air was fresh with scents of living people. Crackling with scents of young flesh and new blood.

Already I'd guessed that I'd certainly find myself a few young morals to satisfy my hunger.

I wandered into a tavern in Galway. Taverns were such lovely things. You were always guaranteed to find many a youthful man... his blood ripe and tasty.

What I found at this particular tavern, though, was a man more magnificent than Apollo. His beauty was like none I'd ever seen. His face seemed to conjure up verses of classic poetry in my head. Poetry of Shakespeare and Lord Byron.

I wanted him.

Without question.

As if my wanting him was the most natural thing in the world.

I wanted him and I would refuse to finish the night until I had him. Simply attacking him to turn him would be no hard feat. But I didn't just want him... I wanted him to want me. I wanted him to come to me willingly.

He was to be my greatest triumph.

From the moment he spotted me and we locked eyes, I could see that he did indeed want me. It was a mortal man's wanting... physical attraction and lust. No doubt, his thoughts revolved around my naked flesh and how best to get to see it. The thought of such naive, simple desires this man had, made him only more worthy of the gift I planned on bestowing upon him.

I beckoned him to me with my eyes. Outside the tavern and into the alley.

My own excitement and anticipation rose with every sentence that passed between us. With every word he said, and the look of longing in his eyes.. a longing for more from life, it became clear to me that this man who appeared simply to be a drunken, whoring loser, was inside extremely passionate.

Such passion, I knew, could be turned into a passion for killing.

I told him he could see the world. I could show him things he'd never seen, never heard of. And it was true, I could.

His adamant statement that he wasn't afraid of my world, made my victory sweeter. Because, I'd succeeded in my goal. I made him, though unknowing, into a vampire... and he'd asked me to.

When I bit into his flawless, soft flesh and drank up his pulsing, living blood, I had thoughts of how wonderful I was being... preserving this exquisite looking man forever. His beauty would be captured... never aging or fading. The world would be honoured to be able to be graced with his magnificence for all time.

His blood tasted of liquor, obviously. But sweet, due to the pheromones that flowed throughout. It reminded me of a good rum with tinges of strawberries and cream laced in it.

Simply... it was delicious.

When it came time for the lad to drink my blood, I opened my veins just above my breasts, and brought his head to the bleeding wound, cradling it there.

The scene was half motherly, I was simply feeding my babe, and half erotic domination. I suppose I was, in many aspects, highlighting the fact that this mortal, who had so obviously wanted taste my flesh there... got to, even if it was only in his death.

Irony is not something that escapes the undead.

His vampiric instincts were quick to awaken and his drinking soon became more demanding. I gasped, letting myself feel the pleasure of the experience.

After a minute, when I knew it was time, I pulled him away from the wound and let him fall, seemingly dead, to the cold, stone ground. I looked down at him for a long moment, already giddy with anticipation of his reawakening and left him there for someone to find.

Mortals are such predictable creatures and they cling so tightly to their culture and traditions. Before I could introduce my new boy to my world and watch his first kill, I had to wait for his loved ones to properly mourn his soul in a day lit funeral.

The next night, I waited patiently for him to rise from his grave... a fully fledged vampire.

I had the pleasure of witnessing him drain his first life and I had the honour of seeing such hunger and darkness in his eyes.

I knew gleefully the legend I had created when he told me his target was not just one in the village, but the whole village.

I'd never known such glorious terror to be spread but that that I watched my boy ensue. Seeing his sheer joy and his erotic pleasure in causing pain and death upon simpering humans was like a fantastic dream. I revered in every second of it. Every scream of horror, every drop of crimson blood, every cry for help... and every lifeless body left limp.

But my dear boy... my Angelus - a demon with the face of an angel - was still so young. Still almost as naive as the mortal he was but a day ago. If he successfully wanted to walk gracefully in my world, there was still so much I had to teach him... so much he had to learn.

But it didn't matter. Now he had all the time in the world.

He had forever.

And more importantly... he had me.

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The End.