Title: Lying with Hands Turned Up

Author: Roxy (Angel-Buffy17)

Shipping: Buffy/Angel(us)

A/N: Just getting back into the Buffy/Angel(us) groove after a long-ass school year. Summer equals more time for obsession and writing. Apologies for my absence, I'm getting back into the swing of things!

A/N 2: "Lying with Hands Turned Up" is drabble series, one-shots for now. They're all pieces I've been working on over the years that I just haven't come around to expanded, but wish to share.

Series: There will be a play on meloncholy, violent passion, and agonizing heartbreak for our favorite star-crossed lovers. But do not despair, for there will be a balance of happiness as well. I'd just like to see where I can take these characters and explore all the possibilities of meetings, interactions, and plot-changing twists. Join me for the ride!


The World Without

The fight was starting to wear on her, she tried to deny it and pushed for a third wind. Months of loss and guilt-ridden nightmares had won their toll on her, exhaustion weighed down like a thunder of rain. Beating, beating down.

Angelus whipped Akathla's sword around fluidly, the blade slicing the air like butter. A round of strikes and the Master Vampire could feel the excitement of battle course through him, a rush he hadn't experienced since his days as a fledgling. His Slayer countered every blow he dealt, giving as much as receiving.

The sheer passion in this girl, Angelus thought in almost awe. He shoved her into the porcelain bust, exquisite.

He could still sense her, much to his disgust. Her strength was weaning and the poor girl was desperate. Disarming her, Buffy resorted to physical blows. She struck her ex-lover with a force that punished, a hatred that directed inward, its vibrations shooting out.

He laughed gleefully and she was sickened. A particularly hard punch to the jaw effectively shut him up.

Aside from the clash of steel and the harsh grunts of exertion, the battle waged on in silence. Everything that needed to be said had been spoken. No threats were left that hadn't been carried out, all taunts now rang hollow in the midst of the finale.

This was raw and they both felt it. Nothing left, nobody around to impress or appease. Every drop of worldly hatred and frustration drove every single shot.

He sliced and she bled. She plunged and he bruised. Back and forth, round and round.

Grasping her shoulders, his sharp talons dug past her thin sweater and into her skin. He growled as the scent of her bled perfumed the air, urging him to just end this little dance they'd caught themselves in.

Buffy flung her head back, contacting his nose with an audible crunch. She escaped his razor hands and took a couple steps back to regain her ground.

He had that same look in his eyes as that night they'd kissed in the school's band room, body snatched by past lovers. Inexplicable rage.

She hadn't thought he could hate her anymore that night. He roared, the high windows shook. As he charged toward her, a batting ram with the power of a canon, she realized she'd been wrong.

He crashed into her, knocking them both to the ground and skidding them toward Akathla. Buffy struggled to catch her breath as she grappled for dominance. Angelus managed to get several blows in before she landed a few of her own.

Meanwhile, Akathla shook, dropped his stoney jaw for the first time in centuries, and breathed. A swirling vortex of black and fiery orange intruded the air and grew. Bolts of energy crackled from all directions, threatening to incinerate the very universe into charcoal. A voracious vacuum sucked everything in the garden into the gnawing mouth of Akathla.

The two ex-lovers were non the wiser, too caught up in their own need to play the cards fate has dealt them and finish a scene that should never have been carried out.

Beneath Angelus, Buffy thrust her body skyward, trying to throw the heavier weight of the vampire off. Aware of her intentions, Angelus tightened his hold on her wrists, listening to the tiny bones creaking. "Ah...ah. Ah, baby," the handsome vampire smiled a toothy grin. "I believe we've done that move before." He slowly leaned over his captive.

They both thought the same thing. Soon, it would be over.

A flash of bleeding crimson light. Blinded and stunned, they were swallowed whole.

Buffy was panicking. Red sky. Barren ground, black like sin.

Akathla, she thought. I'm in hell. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

Angelus was disoriented at first then regained his bearings. He is pissed. This wasn't supposed to happen. Fuck!

Looking over at Buffy, he is pleased to find she is freaking out and clawing to stay calm. He takes some satisfaction that she is here too. If he was going to suffer through hell, she was being dragged along with him. Bitch deserves that and more. "Well, isn't this nice." He extends an arm toward the wasteland before them. "It's the honeymoon we never had."

Still reeling from the absolute shock of her predicament, Buffy had yet to notice that she wasn't alone. She twisted around, taking in everything, looking for a possible way to escape. Seeing nothing but open space, she focused on slowing down her heavy breathing, the stale heat was making her dizzy.

Turning an ashen face toward the voice, the Slayer looked at her unfortunate companion. He looked downright giddy, the fact that they were in freaking HELL did nothing to wipe that stupid grin off his face. She was overcome with the temptation to rip his face off. Her mouth set in a grim line. "Fuck you."

His quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, such language owns the lady." He placed a hand over his still heart. " I know it's not the Caribbeans, but give a demon a break for imagination."

Buffy crossed her arms. "So getting yourself sucked into hell was all part of a master plan?" she snorted.

"Not exactly," he replied conversationally. "There are some key components missing. Hoard of obedient dezins, a crown, maybe even a sparkly throne, so there are somethings to be desired. But, not all hope is lost, Alghieri," the Master Vampire stepped forward, "You're here, aren't you?"

How did he do that? Buffy fumed. How was he able to distort anything that would sound endearing in any other context into something sick.

The Slayer decided not to reply, truthfully because there was nothing she could say. He was right, she grudgingly realized. Although she did save the world, she could not save herself.

A gust of sadness pierced heart as she tried not to think about the journey in store for her. This was hell, it didn't get any worse than this. She chanced a glance at Angelus, noting the hungry look in his eyes.

Wrong again, it did.

Steeling her resolve, Buffy trudged forth, she didn't have any sense of direction but she had to start somewhere. No one was going to swoop in and save her, she had her self and that was enough. It had to be.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Buffy kept walking, looking down at her own footsteps. Before long, another pair of legs joined her. She shifted the other way and still the bastard followed, relentless. She gradually picked up the pace, breaking into a run. After what felt like hours, Buffy stopped. Looking around, it was the same scenery. She was running in a desert without any point of reference to go with.

She turned sharply, only to come into direct contact with a hard, male chest. She hadn't realized just how close Angelus was on her heel. "You're following me," she managed between pants.

Angelus smirked. "I am."

She placed her hands on her hips. "Why?"

"Why not?"

Buffy sputtered, helplessly. "Wh-...what? Are you fucking crazy?"

The vampire's eyes darkened. "No."

"No? You don't think you are in the least bit demented?" Buffy shook her head. "Well, let's sum it up for all the folks at home, huh? You're a homicidal psycho who's played countless psychological games with me for months. But toying with Buffy and killing her friends isn't enough, no, destroying the world has much more promising prospects. Shit went down and now you are stuck here in a hell of your own making, pun fiercely intended.

'Jolly gee, now what?' Mr. Hyde contemplates, never really thought this through. Look, Buff's here, let's play Follow the Pissed Off Slayer, who, if he didn't get the hint the first dozen times, hate's your damned existence! Now you wanna try to tell me that you shouldn't be locked up in a sponge room in Alcatraz?"

Angelus couldn't help it, he laughed and there was wasn't a note of menace. "Such fire in you, babe."

The look on Buffy's face was almost comical, the bipolar vampire was seriously starting to freak her out. She splayed her arms. "Guess I'm in the right place then."

Without waiting for a response, she took up her earlier path.



R&R :)