Way of the World

NOTES: Thanks to Shadowlass, my very own Insta-Beta. Every writer should be so lucky to know such an amazing editor and wonderful person, seriously. And, of course, to Nongenius, my favorite evil twin for beta pinch-hitting on some facts. (Completed 12/03/02)

As a whore, I learned to give men as much power as I could stand without breaking. The customer is always right, especially when you don’t have any other means to fall back on. As a vampire, the Master taught me how to take that power back. I swore that I would never give a man that much power over me again, and I’ve only been tempted to once in these nearly four hundred years. The night I first saw him in the alley. Then Liam, now Angel, but always Angelus. I knew in a moment that I would have given him everything. But the hunger in his eyes, for a taste of the world and a thousand other indefinable and unspeakable things, made me realize that I still held the command.

He learned quickly, though, my Angelus. By 1780, he was teaching me a thing or two about cruelty, mayhem, and torture. Not in the bedroom, though. He’d been raised a typical Catholic male, and was very adamant about dominance in our relationship, and I let him exert some measure of control in all aspects but there. I’d spent years of my human existence being degraded by males, so I firmly ignored his wheedling to try new games. He kept coming to me with interesting whips and manacles that he found, and he could be rather forceful in his requests. Great thing about being a vampire though, it left me as strong as Angelus despite his size. Which isn’t to say that I didn’t enjoy his savagery, as long as I remained in control. But I could feel him getting restless. He needed someone to break, someone to command, and he knew it wouldn’t be me.

That’s why I brought him Drusilla, you know. She was young, and pure, and half-crazed even before he tortured her. Dru was someone Angelus could bend, shape, and use for his twisted sex games. I never worried about her stealing him away from me, because I knew that no matter what, I still held the power. I always went first, Drusilla and Angelus were both very clear on this, and after I finished, he was free to tie her up while she babbled on about purple carrots and the Queen of the Fairies coming to visit her. So I was in control of his restlessness without him realizing it.

William, her toy, proved to be slightly more difficult. There was a period of twenty or so years when she refused to give herself to him, jabbering on about how he had to prove himself before he could have her. He could have taken her at any time; Drusilla was always pretty weak, but he actually respected her, his Dark Princess. Me? Well, once he caught me in the hallway of wherever we were staying at the moment. I was going downstairs just before sunrise for leftovers from the night’s feeding, wearing only my robe, hastily pulled on when I’d finished with Angelus. Suddenly, one hand snaked around my waist from behind as another came around to violently pull apart the edges of silk covering me. William, or Spike as he was calling himself now, was going to take from me what Drusilla refused to give him.

Or try, at least. The next evening, when Spike told Angelus that he’d broken his wrist and three fingers falling out of bed, I decided not to contradict him. After all, he was useful to have around, if for no other reason than his ability to keep Drusilla quiet for whole minutes at a time. All in all, though, I wasn’t too sad when Attack Boy and Crazy Girl went their own way, because I didn’t really want to spend time with anyone after Angelus left anyway.

I still miss him. Not the thing that parades around in his body now, the one that tries to be the champion of the good, as if that can erase everything we had together for so long. That thing can be thrown into the ocean for all I care. No, I miss my boy, the one that I made. Angelus. For years after he was taken away from me, I woke up every day clutching for him, wondering why he wasn’t on the bed next to me like he was supposed to be. But I would never admit this aloud, not even if it meant getting him back. I would never confess how much I need him, because that would mean giving up too much of myself.

So, you see, I meant what I said all those centuries ago. No man was ever going to dominate me again. The irony comes in when I remember that I am being dominated, by a stupid, human disease that didn’t even have a name when I got it from a customer, back when I was first human. Kind of makes me wish that I’d learned the importance of having the power just a little bit sooner.


	The Last Time I Saw You has moved to... http://www.fangedfour.com/lasttime You will be redirected in 10 seconds. Fanfiction by Author Title Rating/Pairing TITLE: The Way of the World AUTHOR: hold_that_thought SUMMARY: Darla reflects on certain aspects of her unlife. RATED: R SPOILERS: Up to early Angel Season 2 FEEDBACK: Totally welcome (APostModernSleaz@aol.com) ARCHIVE: More than likely okay, but please ask first DISCLAIMER: The characters used within are the property of Mutant Enemy, Twentieth Century Fox, and of course Joss Whedon. It's their sandbox, I'm just playing in it. NOTES: Thanks to Shadowlass, my very own Insta-Beta. Every writer should be so lucky to know such an amazing editor and wonderful person, seriously. And, of course, to Nongenius, my favorite evil twin for beta pinch-hitting on some facts. (Completed 12/03/02) As a whore, I learned to give men as much power as I could stand without breaking. The customer is always right, especially when you don’t have any other means to fall back on. As a vampire, the Master taught me how to take that power back. I swore that I would never give a man that much power over me again, and I’ve only been tempted to once in these nearly four hundred years. The night I first saw him in the alley. Then Liam, now Angel, but always Angelus. I knew in a moment that I would have given him everything. But the hunger in his eyes, for a taste of the world and a thousand other indefinable and unspeakable things, made me realize that I still held the command. He learned quickly, though, my Angelus. By 1780, he was teaching me a thing or two about cruelty, mayhem, and torture. Not in the bedroom, though. He’d been raised a typical Catholic male, and was very adamant about dominance in our relationship, and I let him exert some measure of control in all aspects but there. I’d spent years of my human existence being degraded by males, so I firmly ignored his wheedling to try new games. He kept coming to me with interesting whips and manacles that he found, and he could be rather forceful in his requests. Great thing about being a vampire though, it left me as strong as Angelus despite his size. Which isn’t to say that I didn’t enjoy his savagery, as long as I remained in control. But I could feel him getting restless. He needed someone to break, someone to command, and he knew it wouldn’t be me. That’s why I brought him Drusilla, you know. She was young, and pure, and half-crazed even before he tortured her. Dru was someone Angelus could bend, shape, and use for his twisted sex games. I never worried about her stealing him away from me, because I knew that no matter what, I still held the power. I always went first, Drusilla and Angelus were both very clear on this, and after I finished, he was free to tie her up while she babbled on about purple carrots and the Queen of the Fairies coming to visit her. So I was in control of his restlessness without him realizing it. William, her toy, proved to be slightly more difficult. There was a period of twenty or so years when she refused to give herself to him, jabbering on about how he had to prove himself before he could have her. He could have taken her at any time; Drusilla was always pretty weak, but he actually respected her, his Dark Princess. Me? Well, once he caught me in the hallway of wherever we were staying at the moment. I was going downstairs just before sunrise for leftovers from the night’s feeding, wearing only my robe, hastily pulled on when I’d finished with Angelus. Suddenly, one hand snaked around my waist from behind as another came around to violently pull apart the edges of silk covering me. William, or Spike as he was calling himself now, was going to take from me what Drusilla refused to give him. Or try, at least. The next evening, when Spike told Angelus that he’d broken his wrist and three fingers falling out of bed, I decided not to contradict him. After all, he was useful to have around, if for no other reason than his ability to keep Drusilla quiet for whole minutes at a time. All in all, though, I wasn’t too sad when Attack Boy and Crazy Girl went their own way, because I didn’t really want to spend time with anyone after Angelus left anyway. I still miss him. Not the thing that parades around in his body now, the one that tries to be the champion of the good, as if that can erase everything we had together for so long. That thing can be thrown into the ocean for all I care. No, I miss my boy, the one that I made. Angelus. For years after he was taken away from me, I woke up every day clutching for him, wondering why he wasn’t on the bed next to me like he was supposed to be. But I would never admit this aloud, not even if it meant getting him back. I would never confess how much I need him, because that would mean giving up too much of myself. So, you see, I meant what I said all those centuries ago. No man was ever going to dominate me again. The irony comes in when I remember that I am being dominated, by a stupid, human disease that didn’t even have a name when I got it from a customer, back when I was first human. Kind of makes me wish that I’d learned the importance of having the power just a little bit sooner.