TITLE: Twisted Angel.

AUTHOR: Kelly Rowe

EMAIL: angels_bath_towel@hotmail.com

RATING: NC-17 - at least it will be eventually.

DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Angel and all other characters (except those I make up) are the absolute property of Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy, UPN and Warner Bros (If I owned them, do you think that they would be acting this ridiculous right now).

SUMMARY: What if Buffy met Angelus FOR THE FIRST TIME in mid-season Three? Would she accept his offer for an alliance to stop the Ascension? Would they still fall in love?

SPOILERS: Anything is game.

TIMELINE: Season 3 BTVS and onwards.

DISTRIBUTION: You want you can have it; just tell me where you put it. Any Yahoo lists and DMCA just take it. My site:

PAIRING: Buffy/Angelus, Willow/Oz, Cordy/Xander, Giles/Jenny.

CATEGORY: Challenge fic from The Dark Magick Challenge Awards.


Part 1

The Hellmouth has for all time, since the commencement of creation, been a consecrated place for demons and other such creatures to congregate and as you would expect, it has also been the place for some to endeavor to take over the world. None had ever been truly successful in their attempts and any would be world conquerors had been vanquished in the last few years by the Watcher's Council's latest and greatest weapon - the slayer. Angelus however was not in the slightest bit apprehensive about his trip to The Hellmouth; he after all had neither goal in mind - congregation or world domination - he merely wanted to rule over The Hellmouth itself. It was his supreme dream and as far as he was concerned his next utmost triumph, he didn't care about the slayer - by all accounts the strongest of all time or not - if she got in his way then she would simply die by his hand. After all he had never met a slayer that he could not kill - how else would he have been able to earn himself the prestigious title of 'The Slayer Killer.'

Angelus leisurely wandered around the so-called downtown area of his new home, wordlessly watching the naively vapid inhabitants walk around ignorant to the dangers - and the creatures - that surrounded them just out of reach in the darkness. He was reasonably certain that he could simply reach out and drain some inconsequential passer-by and that none of the other human sheep would even bat an eye at his behavior. Many questions disseminated through his mind at what he had so far ascertained about Sunnydale. Had the townspeople grown complacent due to the presence of the slayer? Did they even realize just what their sleepy, little town was built upon? A feeling that he had within him told him that it was the latter and that he would have very little problems in the pursuit of his goal.

Spying out of the corner of his watchful eye a throng of teenagers moving away from the crowd and the main street of Sunnydale. Thinking that they might make a quick and easy dinner he followed without a sound behind them. A couple of blocks later he witnessed them - and many others like them - entering a small, dingy looking building. Angelus guessed that it was a club of sorts as he watched the building pulsate with the beat of the loud music coming from inside. Taking a step closer he was assaulted by the amalgamation of body heat, hormones and pheromones swirling around him from the club and causing every nerve in his long dead body to tingle with anticipation. Throwing caution to the wind he entered the club, telling himself that he wasn't losing grip on the blood lust - he was simply checking out a potential new hunting ground and if he happened to pick up an entertaining little snack while he was there, so be it.

The instant he was through the door, his senses were almost overloaded and he had to force himself not to vamp out like some untutored fledgling. Unhurriedly he moved around the outskirts of the club, feeling the eyes of the teenaged girls - and to his amusement some of the teenaged guys - on him, mentally stripping him of his tight leather and silk clothing. Silently he began to survey the brunettes looking for a *dinner* companion, all of a sudden he spotted the perfect one dancing with an ungainly looking boy. He stalked self-confidently towards the young couple, knowing that it would not be hard to get the girl to abandon her companion for a promised filled evening with him, besides if the boy made a pest of himself it would in all honesty be nothing to dispose of him. When he was almost there, the couple moved off of the dance floor and over to a group of teenagers sitting a small table just out of his sight.

Angelus speedily took a seat and adjusted the angle his viewing and all thoughts of the brunette flew out of his habitually assiduous mind as he caught espy of a petite blond sitting with the group. He wasn't sure exactly why she had caught his discriminatory eye, the truth was that there wasn't anything remarkable about her looks and besides, blonds had always been the soul's thing; the demon within had always preferred a darker sort of beauty. However he had to inwardly admit that for the first time in almost two and a half centuries he was attracted to a blond - his sire, Darla hadn't counted; she was his sire and sex was a part of the deal no matter what the level of attraction.

He just couldn't bring himself to look away from her; this young teenager seemed to have some power over him. Not that he was complaining, it was logically better to fuck your food before you ate it anyway and another glance at the blond's athletic looking body guaranteed him it would be one hell of a meal. It was at that moment that his anticipated victim looked up and over in his direction. As she climbed up from her table and moved towards him, he couldn't help but smirk over the fact that his prey for the evening was aggressively seeking him out. So it was a definite ego deflator when she strolled right past him as if he didn't even exist.

Dangerously pissed off at the turn of events, Angelus followed the diminutive blond outside of the club, indomitable to get what he wanted; instead he received a shock. In the alleyway besides the club his impending victim was kicking the shit out of one of his brethren. There was only one viable explanation for this; his tiny blond victim was in fact the slayer - the purportedly most powerful slayer to ever walk this earth. Behind the perceptible disbelief that played throughout his mind, there was a curiosity aroused - actually there was a hell of a lot more than just his curiosity aroused. This slayer seemed to be different than the others who had come before her and it was most definitely going to be a *pleasure* - his pleasure - to be the one to bring her to her knees. With a dramatic flick of his leather duster in the cool night breeze, Angelus turned on his heel and walked away to find another meal, while he plotted the downfall of this slayer.


Buffy looked up from her last slay just in time to observe the hottie from inside The Bronze walk away. It was apparent - well hopefully - that he had not seen her fight the vampire or seen the body exploding into dust mere seconds after she had plunged Mr. Pointy through the vampire's unbeating heart. She heaved a sigh to herself as she brushed the dust from her stylish, sexy and yet slayage practical outfit and re-entered the cramped club, making her way over to her very coupled friends. They were so involved with each other that they hadn't even noticed that she had even returned. Sighing once again, Buffy turned her attention away from them and to the crowd hoping to find a little demonic action to keep her occupied while the others were busy, but no such luck everyone and everything seemed in safe hands and under control. Making a split-second decision, she grabbed her jacket and purse and went to leave. Subconsciously she knew she was only doing this in the hopes that one of them would look up and ask her to stay - hell at this point she'd even take a fucking acknowledgement of her existence - but they didn't. Buffy didn't even bother to say goodbye as she stepped out once more alone into the cold, dark night.

Deciding to funnel her ever mounting dissatisfaction into something beneficial, Buffy decided to do a quick sweep through Sunny Rest memorial park before she headed home to a dark, empty house. Regrettably she did not get to vent any of her frustrations on some unsuspecting evil; the burial ground was even deader than usual with not even the hint of a newly risen fledgling. Heaving a colossal sigh she kicked the adjoining grave marker, breaking the not-so fragile stone in half; after making certain that no one - living or undead - had seen her desecrate a grave, she rushed home.

Since her mother was once again out of town on another God-forsaken business trip, she let herself in the front door and discarded her belongings in the customarily pristine front hall. Stretching her over-used muscles, Buffy climbed the stairs towards her tasteful and airy bedroom. Removing her jacket, she moved over towards her dresser pausing temporarily to grab herself a pair of pajamas. Breaking with her familiar habits, she stripped down to her underwear in her room rather than trudge down the hall to the bathroom, tonight she was just too fatigued and perturbed with life in general to go to the trouble of repetitive habits. Pulling on a pair of black satin pajama pants, she undid her plain white cotton sports bra and wriggled her way into a blood red cotton tank top - the type she favored for sleeping in. Yanking back the pastel floral bed cover, Buffy climbed into the queen-sized bed and was more or less asleep before her head even hit her pillow.

Unfortunately her sleep was not a serene one, as she tossed and turned as a new nightmare rolled through her unconscious mind. Images of hellfire and brimstone enclosed her, the smell was very nearly overwhelming and she could feel the sweat roll off of her from the intense heat. Spinning around in circles, she spotted the hottie from The Bronze standing in the midst of some ashes beckoning to her, wanting her to come to him. She was sorely tempted to do just that, but something was stopping her, holding her back from him. An abrupt glance back over her shoulder showed her that it was Giles holding onto her with a vice-like grip, shaking his very proper British head at her imprudent impulse. Suddenly he let her go and before she could make it towards the man of her dreams, the ground beneath her tiny feet began to tremor and she was knocked onto her ass. Watching the scene unfolding before her eyes in silent fear, Buffy witnessed the earth directly in front of her open up and a gargantuan - bigger and fiercer than anything she had ever seen - snake-like creature burst forth with its mouth agape.

Her own scream pulled her from the nightmarish scene and she lay there in the dark of her room trying to regain some semblance of calm. After a few moments she sat up, flipped on the bed-side lamp and grabbed the notebook and pen Giles made her keep close by for occasions such as this. Buffy began to document the nightmare in as much detail as she could recall, so that in the morning Giles could research the meaning of it and work out if it was some horror movie induced fantasy or a vision of things to come. Eventually she lay back down and closed her eyes in a vain attempt to sleep; unfortunately it was almost dawn before sleep found her.


Buffy was disrespectfully awoken a few inadequate hours later by the shrill, unrelenting ringing of the telephone extension in her room. Groaning audibly she reached across and grasped a hold of the receiver. "What?"

"Good morning to you too, Buffy," a clipped British tone replied somewhat sardonically.

Buffy sighed and attempted to readjust her tone of voice, "Hey Giles."

"Do you mind telling me why you missed our seven o'clock training session?"

Buffy groaned once more, "Chill Giles. One missed training session won't matter; I'll simply train harder this afternoon. Besides its Saturday - don't you want to spend the day with Jenny?"

Giles was the one to sigh this time and Buffy could just picture him cleaning his glasses on the other end of the line. "I am well aware of what day it is, but with the Mayor's unknown plot thickening you cannot afford to slack off."

"I know, I know."

"Besides that, you have left me trapped here *alone* with that *abominable* man."

Buffy tried to repress the mirth that threatened to rise up as she pictured the man that Giles was referring too. Mr. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce was purportedly extra help sent by the council to aid the slayer and her watcher in vanquishing or better yet preventing whatever evil the Mayor of Sunnydale had planned for the town. Alas ever since his unanticipated - and unsolicited - arrival a fortnight earlier, he had done nothing but screw up menial tasks, cause offense to everyone and ogle Cordelia Chase's abundant - and most likely surgically modified breasts.

"Okay, give me an hour and I'll be there," she conceded reluctantly.

"You can have thirty minutes," Giles told her as he hung up on her.

Buffy hung up her end of the call and stretched her still sleeping muscles. Achingly she crawled out of her bed and headed slowly down the hall to the bathroom for a shower and other things. All the time she was grumbling about destiny and the lack of sleeping in on weekends.


TBC...