Standing on the Inside Looking Out

AUTHOR: Ophelia
DISCLAIMER: Joss, not I.
DISTRIBUTION: Let me know where it's going
CATEGORY: A(us)/W(m)
RATING: ?
SERIES: Enemy Within
PART: 3/?
FEEDBACK: Yes please!!!
VISIT ME: http://www.geocities.com/rainee_sl/
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I'm trying to tell the story of A(us) & Co from a different angle It's not just Angelus and Angel but a big part of Liam that's still alive. Eh well, you may just wanna read it, `cuz I've got the feeling the more I try to explain the more complicated I make it sound ;-)
Feedback and comments (help) would be very much appreciated, thank you very much
PS:Oh, and thank you so much Kate for your help and betaing and taking
the time to listen it me – hugs!!!
PPS:There are still mega-gaps in the story line – like the relationship
Darla/Liam, Darla/Angelus or how Drusilla fits in the picture…
Don't worry folks, I'm working on it and you'll be the first to see
the results!
Eventually I'm going to cover the following points of Angel's human &
soulless past

- Liam
- Angelus
- Angelus/Darla
- Drusilla
- William
- The curse
- Angel
- Buffy timeline…

He was sick of her whining.
Her endless going on about their differences.
About how much of a failure he was compared to her precious Liam.

The chap was an idiot!

And frankly speaking, the thought of being compared to that vegetable
for the next couple of lifetimes thoroughly set his nerves on edge.

She wanted Liam?
Well, Liam she should have!

That in mind Angelus more and more retreated, allowing the man whoes
body he inhabited to – occasionally at least – take over and pleasure
the blonde bitch.

Alright, he still had to watch them fuck or listen to their ludicrous
little plots.
However, letting the cretin deal with the hellcat did wonders for his
peace of mind.

Once he managed to tune out their dull chitchat he could let his mind
drift towards other, more enjoyable affairs – namely the striking
young lad, William Nicholas Campbell, son of the retorted match's
latest business associate.

Oh, sure, he was still such a baby – barely sixteen…
Terribly innocent and shy, but with the most amazing blue eyes.
An awful poet, though!

For some reason Angelus had sensed a kindred spirit in the lad, a
spirit worth spending time with.

However, he had to be cautious about this, since neither Liam, nor
Darla were to fond of the boy.
And Angelus wanted it to stay that way.
Things they disliked they destroyed or disposed of, where again
things that caught their interest…

He'd seen the results.
Had learned to live with Penn and Drusilla.

But his was definitely something he wanted to spare the young man.

That's why he kept their meetings casual, never had more than a few
impersonal words with the youth and even this only when he could be
sure that Liam'' mind was engrossed in rehearsing Darla and his
latest horizontal installment.
Which was usually right before dawn, after Darla had dozed off and
the approaching sun was draining him of his energy.

Angelus loved to go for a brief wander this time of the day.
After it wouldn't be the first time that he accidentally ran into the
object of his desire.

William Nicholas Campbell.
The boy obviously was an early riser.
And sitting under the porch of his remote little room seemed to be
his daily ritual.

However, not so today…


***


"Where're ye off to, lad?"

Angelus effortlessly grabbed the frantic young man by the nape of his
neck.
He could sense his panic and fear and involuntarily slipped into
defense-mode.

"Quiet, lad, quiet!"

He easily clasped the struggling figure to his chest.
He sighed, contently.
It felt so good to be close to a warm beating heart.

"Tell me, lad, what happened to ye?"

He held the boy steady, even when he felt his muscles grow rigid and
he anxiously tried to pull away.

"Ohmi…"

"Stop it, William!"

Angelus tightened his grip on the youth, efficiently trapping his
arms between their bodies.

"William!"

His voice rose, hoping that might make him snap out of it .
However, the contrary was the case.

"Sir…, Mister…, Mister O'Sullivan…"
The young man pleaded, all the while fighting his hold with a
strength born out of angst.

"Holy Mary, what the hell is wrong with ye, lad?"

Angelus involuntarily let go of the kid – only for an instant, only
long enough to grab him by his shoulders and force him to meet his
black eyes the very next second.

"Talk to me, William, tell me what's wrong!"

He groaned, partly because of the boy's watery blue eyes and partly
because all of a sudden he could feel Liam stirring. Something about
the troubled youth must have caught his attention.

And if Angelus was to take a bold guess he'd say it was the boy's
fear plus the faint leftover odour of a recent ejaculation.

+Damn it all to hell, of course, that's what it was!+

Angelus carefully sniffed the air.

+Had somebody forced themselves on the lad?+

He sniffed again.

+No, whatever faint odour intoxicated the air, it was definitely the
clean male scent of the trembling youngster.+

Then it hit him.
Masturbation, of course.

No big issue for one well over one hundred years of age, but for this
fine sixteen years old lad here…

"I think I'd love to see him squirm – my cock up his arse, ripping
his hole!"

Now it was up to Angelus to stand rigid.
He hadn't quite realised just how wake and interested in their
conversation Liam had been.

"You touch him and…"

And what? Ye gonna confide in Darla? – I somehow don't think so!"

He hated to admit it, but the cruel bastard was right.
There was no way he'd confess to his sire, not after he'd finally
discovered the perfect means of avoiding her – Liam!

"I already thought so!"

How much he'd like to pay him back his sarcasm.

"Let's go back."
However, he slowly turned towards William instead.

The boy immediately lowered his head and if possible his body
stiffened even more.
But he no longer fought against the strong arm encircling his
shoulders.

There was something about the big stranger – something about Liam
O'Sullivan he hadn't noticed before – something that made him feel
save and content.


***


He had bathed eight times since he'd returned to his room.
So far he hadn't found any black spots, although he still wasn't
totally convinced yet that he's been spared.

He thanked the Lord that he'd ran into Mister O'Sullivan.
He had been so good to him.
Had held him and allowed him to cry.
Just like that, naturally, as though he was worth of his comfort and
not just some pitiful thing.

It was a bit funny actually, as – apart from their early morning
conversations – he'd always had the impression that Mister O'Sullivan
didn't like him very much.

Maybe it was only because he had to maintain a certain image in front
of his host.

However, he was glad he'd been wrong.
And he had to have been.

No-one ever had held him simply for comfort, just like that, for no
particular reason.

He wondered if Mister O'Sullivan and his wife had children.
Maybe they would take him with them if the hadn't and if he asked
nicely.

Surely his father wouldn't mind.
To him he was nothing but a nuisance – an extra eater that didn't
deserve a single spoon of the food he himself had worked so hard for.

How many times had he shouted this very sentence into his face?
And how many times had he hungry and heart-broken left the family
table, weeping into his pillows until he'd finally fall asleep?

Mister O'Sullivan would never do this to his children, of this he was
sure.
He would love him and encourage him in his studies even if all he was
good at was poetry and arts.

He was his hero no – Mister O'Sullivan.

Maybe if he was of service…
If he looked after his carraige and horses…
If he arranged some freshly picked flowers for Lady Darla…
Maybe, maybe then…

+I'd be a good boy.+
+I'd make him proud of me.+
+I'd protect him.+
+And Lady Darla.+
+And their children.+
+If only he'd take me with him…+
+If only he'd allow him to be his childe…+
+He'd never disappoint him, always be loyal – forever and a day.+

***

"Damn it, Angelus, what the hell is wrong with that lad?"

A look of utter annoyance distorting her delicate features, Darla
vehemently stomped on the lovely bouquet of wild flowers which had
been carefully placed in front of the guest room door.

"He's making me sick, with his big puppy-dog eyes – why is he
bothering us like this?"

"I don't know, dearest."
Her lover swiftly bent down to retrieve the crushed flowers.
"But why don't ye look at it that way – when was the last time we had
a willing virgin sharing our bed?"

***



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