Work Text:
Immortal Night
by Lucinda
"Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality. "
-- Emily Dickinson - Because I could not stop for Death
Wiping at the tears that refused to stop, she continued towards the bus stop. She wanted to insist that the last month couldn't have happened, that Ford wouldn't have used her and Diego like that, that he hadn't tried to get them all killed just so that he could live forever. Except that she couldn't forget. And she couldn't deny that it had all happened.
She didn't even know what city she was in now. After everything, she'd just taken the first bus out of Sunnydale, and here she was, walking through the humid streets of what-ever city this was. It was probably a really stupid way to leave town, actually.
"How could he have done that? How could he have just... taken our hopes and dreams and tried to use them?" The plainitive questions slipped out, much like the tears that kept slipping from her eyes.
Her heart sped up slightly as she heard footsteps in the darkness. Her mind flashed to that terrifying man in the leather coat, the vampire that Ford had tried to give them to. It wasn't supposed to be like that, vampires weren't supposed to be like that.
Now she was afraid of the night. The night was supposed to be beautiful, serene and full of wonder and mystery, not the fear that there might be someone with horrible yellow eyes waiting to rip her throat open. And it was all Ford's fault. "Damn him."
"Who has you so unhappy?" The voice carried a bit of an accent, smooth as silk and as irresistible as dark chocolate.
Her feet stopped, and Chantarelle peered into the night, trying to find the source of the voice. "Hello?"
"You look to pretty to be so unhappy."
The voice caressed her again, and she could see the shape of a man in the darkness. It was dark, but the traces of light shimmered on long pale hair. "I didn't think I'd be bothering anyone."
"But you aren't a bother." He moved closer, still half hidden by the shadows, but clearly not wearing any sort of long coat.
Wiping again at the tears, she tried to smile. Whoever he was, he sounded hot, and she didn't want to look like a complete wreck. "It's sort of a mess, and you probably wouldn't want to hear about it."
"Why are you so sure of that?" His voice was making her shiver, in an indescribably good way. "Maybe I'd like to hear more."
The expression was more a bitter grimace as she remembered her neglectful parents, the way she'd had no friends, how nobody except Ford and Diego had ever wanted to listen. "Nobody wants to listen to me."
"Am I nobody, then?" He was close enough now that she could smell him, something spicy and almost earthy.
"Who are you then?" Her voice trembled, and she wasn't certain what caused it - unease, hope, or interest.
The moonlight touched one cheek, a bit of forehead, hinting at one of the most handsome faces that she'd ever seen. His hair was a rich golden that flowed past his shoulders like something from a shampoo commercial. "I am Asher."
"ohhh..." She could feel her body sway as she looked at him, seeking the color of his eyes. Surely they would be something wonderful, the sort of eyes that you could drown in? "You're gorgeous..."
His hand caught hers, cool in the evening, and raised her fingers to his lips. Lips brushed her fingers like the caress of flower petals, and his words were just as enticing. "You flatter me."
Chantarelle blushed, feeling lightheaded as she stood there, part of her hoping that this moment would never end. She was here, in the night with a handsome stranger, and he'd kissed her hand... It was just like something out of a story. Everything seemed too perfect. He seemed like the perfect Prince Charming, and she'd always loved the story of Cinderella.
"I can make you feel better." Her fingers were released as his hand came up, bushing the traces of her tears away with the lightest of caresses, then tracing over her bottom lip. "No more pain, no more worry or fear."
Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into his touch. It sounded so tempting to just let him take all of her problems away from her. Her tongue touched the tip of his finger, tasting salt and man. "please..."
Asher stepped closer, his body barely touching hers, one hand at the small of her back as the other brushed back a lock of her hair. His breath tickled her ear as he offered, "I can make certain you never have to worry about that pain again."
It felt like his voice was flowing into her, warming her body from the inside out, melting her. Asher could make the pain stop, Asher could make everything better... She could feel herself leaning against him. This was perfect, and wonderful, and just like something out of the hundreds of fantasies that she'd had over the years. A handsome lover who would take her away from it all and take care of her. They could go away and live happily ever after.
A tiny part of her was uneasy, wondering why she was leaning against some stranger, letting him wrap his arms around her and whisper sweet things into her ear. Something about this wasn't right, was wrong, and dangerous and how did she know that he was safe...
His lips touched her neck in a light kiss, and all objection and thought flew away. Chantarelle sighed as she tilted her head, inviting him to do that again, to touch her, to make her feel pleasure instead of pain.
Soft lips caressed her throat, kissing and teasing until she was floating in rapturous delight. She never felt the sharp fangs pierce her skin, never felt the blood flow out of her and into her handsome stranger.
Had she heard his soft words, that frightened corner would have felt a sick sense of justification, but by the time Asher spoke, Chantarelle was completely under his thrall, and barely conscious.
"You'll be mine, and I won't let you have any troubling thoughts at all, pretty."
end Immortal Night.