When the Demons Speak   Leave a comment

Title: When The Demons Speak
Author: Frazi
Posted:
Rating: PG – 16 for language I guess
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Category: angsty- sorta
Content: C/A
Summary: A look into a strange relationship.
Spoilers: Nothing specific. There’s no obvious reference. I guess I’d say everything?
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Nothing Fancy, AO, Go Team are a given, elsewhere ask me.
Notes: Off top of my head. Might even be irrelevant. But hadta get it out.
Thanks/Dedication: To everyone to pestered me about a sequel for ‘This is unusual for me’. It’s not a sequel or a prequel heheh…but its something. Thanks guys.
Feedback: Don’t you wana gimmie a happy after actually writing something without being pestered! Aren’t you proud of me Gabby? Heh! Lotsa feedback.
Please?


Fuck me.

Comparatively, hell was better.

Being trapped inside a filthy soul is worse than the fires of hell that burn but never kill. Watching the world through eyes that only see things I can never have is worse than being cooked alive.

Craving touch and taste and torture is worse than blinding pain.

And I wish I could blind the soul.

But he keeps his eyes open. Even when he’s asleep. He shows me the flesh and fantasy of his world and I lie and wait in my shackles for the day that I will be set free.

But there’s a catch.

My key is perfect happiness and after looking out the windows of this soul I’ve come to realize that for him nothing is perfect anymore. Not his family, not his child, not his redemption and not his woman. Sometimes I play in denial, but I know it deep inside my gut.

Perfect happiness is over-rated.

And I’d rather be in hell.

Fuck me.

My restraints burn worse than fire. The reigns of his control get stronger each day and I weaken under its power. He revels in security and I’m trapped in eternal suffering. His family, his child and his woman. He has everything he needs. He needs them to be jaded and they taint with betrayal and loss and guilt.

And I can taste nothing.

Even out here.

There’s no taste.

SMACK!

Eyes open and I watched the ceramic mug sitting a few inches out of my reach, the metal of the chains clink as my spine aligns itself and then the mug is kicked a little closer to me. Can’t even bear to touch me. One fucking chance; I’m still the demon.

“Eat up.”

“Bite me.”

A wary sigh. “You’re such a baby. I’m going to knock you out and pour it down your throat. Better to just drink.”

Burn.

Before she can decide, the cup flies off the ground and towards her.

“WHOA!”

I want to sneer and scream but I smirk when she ducks and it smashes into the wall leaving a red stain sliding to the floor amount the shards of ceramic. “Good reflexes.”

“Bad move. That was the last bag left.”

“Piss off.”

“Wonderful range of vocabulary, did you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“I ate her with this mouth,” I nearly spit out in anger, but losing composure wouldn’t do me any good. Not out here.

Cordelia Chase let out another wary sigh. “You know I had a feeling you’d be difficult.” Reaching out she grabs a chair and pulls it in front of me careful to stay only an inch out of my range.

If I dislocate my shoulder I can get her. “You’re pathetic.”

“We’re resorting to employing the decrepit has-beens, we must be.” She shrugs and flicks her hair off her shoulder. “Tell me Angel, don’t you get tired of it?”

“Angelus.”

She blinks. “What?”

I raise my head and meet her eyes. “The name is Angelus.”

She rolls her eyes, her pretty little nose wrinkling slightly. “Whatever.”

“It is not whatever.” I couldn’t hold the impatient growl. “I’m not your little play thing. You can’t tame me and mould me into the soul whenever you see fit and let me out when it gets too hot to handle for the soul expecting me to comply without complaint!” I might have shouted, but out here, I can’t tell anymore.

She took the time to look reasonably chastised, but it didn’t last. “It was the only way to save him.” Then she frowns slightly. “Why do you hate him so much? The psychotic split-personality disorder excuse is pretty old you know. Fundamentally you’re still one person. Or non-person depending on technicalities.”

“You never confused the soul with the demon.”

“I’m not the issue here, but since we’re on the topic, I never said you were two people Angel.”

“Angelus.”

“Whatever. My point is, even when he’s here you’re inside. So. Still one person.” She shrugs again as if already convinced she was right.

“Then quit calling me Angel.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, if I’d gotten used to saying Angelus more, you’d be happy, but deal. I’d settle for a neutral, but Liam just doesn’t appeal
to me.”

She has a point.

“So, back to my original question. Why do you hate him so much.”

I shift my shoulder. The pain would almost be worth it. She’d be dead and the soul would weep. I’d die without the violence in his blood to protect and claim and this hell would be over.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Eventually yeah, but it’s not because you hate me. You hate him. Why, I can’t understand, after all you are him.”

“Shut up!” I can feel the burn in my eyes as I strain in my chains trying to glare her into a pile of dust, but she’s the human and I’m the vampire.

She’s used to waiting for death. She didn’t flinch. “I’m right aren’t I?”

I fall back against the wall my arms propped up on my knees as I sit there. It’s harder to deny out here. It easy to accept, if it will keep me out here. “Leave me.”

“But we’re having an honest to goodness conversation Angel. You should be proud of your demon. He’s getting a chance to speak.”

Her eyes were never windows. I can’t taste anything there. There’s no hidden meaning, desire or deception. I want to reach out and put it there. Even if it’s only for a moment before I snap her neck leaving the soul in anguish and myself in peace. Any remnants of happiness would die and I’d die with them. A dislocated shoulder would be a small price to pay. “You don’t even like me Cordelia.”

She looks visibly startled before she raises an eyebrow and leaned a little closer to me almost challenging me to test the tendons that hold my shoulder in place. “What gave you that idea?”

“Don’t fucking lie to me! You can’t like the demon!”

She frowns and leans back in her chair at my volatile accusation. “Didn’t someone say to accept the demon is to like it?”

“Funny how you still call me ‘it’, huh?” The taste is still missing. There’s no deceit. No lies.

“Funny how I call the soul ‘it’ as well, huh? You’re anal with the technicalities. Geez. Insecure much?”

Isn’t that what I’d been screaming inside my fucking head about? That was something I’ve always been. I’ve never known different. “What the hell do you expect from me Cordelia? I am evil.”

“And modest.” Her mouth turns up at the corners in a tease and I wanted to rip it off so her smile would never bring him security. If he was insecure, I’d be free of fire.

“Stop that.”

This time it is my turn to raise my eyebrow.

“You’re brooding. Geez, doesn’t that about prove my point? So why do you hate him?”

“Why do you like him so much?”

“There’s a list there, but I asked first.”

“Fuck me I asked second. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is you’re avoiding my question and I’d love to fuck you, but I’m not the bestiality type of girl. You’ll have to wait until you’re less homicidal.”

Why did this woman always throw me a curve when I’d started to figure her out? Suddenly I was slapped with the prospect of fucking this woman, a concept even the soul wasn’t familiar with yet. why she’s admitting this to me was unsettling. My shoulder itched.

There were a thousand reasons but I couldn’t remember. Why did I hate the soul? Why was Cordelia so fucking interested to psychoanalyze me all of a sudden? “Isn’t there a spell you need to do?”

“Wesley’s on it. You’re still avoiding.”

“It’s the best thing I do next to biting.”

Another sigh. “You are so evasive.” Her hands rub against her knees and she stands. My eyes follow the rise of her body as she straightens, every muscle in sync, her frame gliding to a stand. “Fine broody boy. Be that way.” She smirks. “We’ll pick this up next time we let you out to play.”

Out here, I couldn’t taste anything. Not even her intention, but I knew what hell was like. I didn’t like it out here any more.

As she starts to walk away, my gut clenches, my body arching almost trying to be physically closer to one of the most important things that could save and enslave me. The fire didn’t burn to hot while she looked at me.

The flesh didn’t scald when her eyes stayed on mine and the pain and agony of admitting the soul leaked into the demon was easier to accept. The merging was easier out here. The knowledge that he could have everything I’d never had was hell, but hell was better than out here.

They always thought it was the soul that would damn perfect happiness and bring the demon, but I know now that it’s the demon who would damn perfect happiness to ensoul itself. Himself. Me. This hell was acceptable as long as I could taste the solace.

Damn perfect happiness. I’d do anything to be free of this fire. Even accept the soul. “WAIT!”

The word was supposed to come out as a command, but I wasn’t all demon anymore. It was a plea.

To accept the soul is to like it. Better than hell.

She turns, but doesn’t speak, her eyes return to my flesh and the burning lessens. The soul sticks in my throat and with a tortured growl, I swallow it. “Ask me again.”

She faces me before putting her hands on her hips and smiling slightly. “Why do you hate the soul so much?”

“The only emotion I was allowed to feel was hate.” I raise my eyes to hers.

I could taste.

And I couldn’t stop there.

“I never knew fear until I met Buffy.”

I taste the jealousy.

“I never feared loneliness until I had a family.”

I taste the understanding.

“I never feared death, until I lost my son.”

I taste tears.

“And I never feared life until I met you. Do you know what it would be to live without you Cordelia?”

A tremble. I taste her agreement even before she says it. “Yes.”

I nod. “End of conversation. Now go.”

She watches me a moment longer as if understanding my need to have her close. But she couldn’t know. She’d never know.

There was a dragging of metal against concrete and I look up startled to see her sit into the chair with a flair and lean back with a grin. “Does that mean I’m going to have to do all the talking again?”

I loved the fucking soul. I must have done something good, for him to deserve her.

Fuck me.

I am the demon in the soul.

Comparatively, hell was better, but this is acceptable.

THE END

Frazi

Posted July 4, 2015 by califi in Complete

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