While She Was Sleeping
Author: Dark Star
Summary: He’s not sure what the fascination is in watching her sleep, but he’s been doing it for years.
Rating: Soft Adult.
She looks peaceful when she sleeps.
During the day she is full of stresses and strains. Her obligations fall heavily on her, and she is always conscious of where the next threat will be coming from. She doesn’t relax during the day.
When they love, her body is sated, but her mind is not. She can never quite shut out what must be done, what should have been done, and how many people she couldn’t save.
But she is peaceful when she sleeps.
He’s almost made a career out of watching her sleep. He watched her before she came to Sunnydale. He watched her before they met in that dingy alley. He watched her the night that The Three had him pinned down in her room. He hadn’t slept, of course. How could he, when she was so close? Instead, he’d used his unexpected opportunity to watch her, utterly captivated by her innocence and beauty. Her sleep had been a beautiful thing to watch. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be able to relax so completely and just let sleep refresh you. His slumber was always poisoned by the unconscionable things he’d done, but hers… he envied her that peace.
For so many nights he has sneaked into her bedroom and watched over her. Sometimes he lurks in the shadows of her room, and sometimes he watches brazenly from the side of the bed, but always, this woman draws him in. She would never know how many times he’d protected her when evil sought her out, and a sleeping slayer is a vulnerable slayer. He’s been her guard and her protector more times than she could ever imagine. He views himself as her faithful servant. Watching, watching, and he tells himself that it gives him the right to be with her.
Sometimes he watches her from beside the bed and his eyes devour every inch of her. Her hair is so soft, her skin so perfect, he wants to reach out and touch that perfection. Sometimes the strap of her nightclothes slips, revealing much more of her skin than she ever shows during the day, and it is sweet torture for him to be so near, yet so far from her. It would be so easy to feel her warmth, or her skin, but he never gives in to his desire to touch her. She is meant for somebody better than him, and he is already getting more than he deserved.
Once he’d lost his soul he still used to go to her, the demon drawn in just as much as the man had been. She was vulnerable to him then, and he could have done anything he wanted. The inventive scenarios dreamt up while he stood over her prone form horrified him now. Angelus could have killed or raped her, and if anyone had asked him why he’d chosen to draw her instead, would have said that killing her was too easy, and playing with her head by letting her know that he’d been there and could have hurt her was much more fun. Angel isn’t so sure that was the only reason he hadn’t touched her.
Sometimes she would sleep at the Mansion, and watching her was easier. He told himself he was keeping her safe by his vigil, but he’s sure she would have been shocked if she’d known the role she took in the fantasies he held in his head.
Sometimes when she stayed with him, he would lie next to her. Often he was propped up on his arm to observe her but when she slept, he would occasionally allow his body to accidentally touch hers, and although he felt guilty about it, he still did it. He knew it was wrong to want her so much, but he was willing to accept whatever crumbs he was able to have, illicitly gained as they may have been.
But best of all were the times she’d allow him to hold her and had fallen asleep in his arms. Those times were rare and precious to him. It was the nearest he ever came to peace. It was almost as though some of her goodness had passed to him, and the whimsy in that thought made him frown. Leeching her peace was no worse than taking blood, and either way, he was nothing more than a parasite. If it was a crime to love her, he would pay for it. Gladly. For now, contentment and peace were his, and the warmth would help sustain him through the hard times still to come. He knew it was the best he could ever hope for; perfect happiness would never be his again.
Once he left Sunnydale, it wasn’t so easy to watch her, but sometimes he needed to make the journey. Her sleep was less restful than before, full of disappointments and recriminations, and it broke his heart; it shouldn’t be like that for her.
He’d enjoyed watching her sleep on the day he’d been human. She had looked happy and peaceful and she’d told him her dream was to be a normal girl falling asleep in the arms of her normal boyfriend. When he remembered that day, the memories were bittersweet, because she had no idea then that her happiness was about to be ripped away from her, and all the things they’d shared on that special day would be gone forever.
When she returned from Heaven he had held her until she fell into a restless, disturbed sleep. He’d tried to soothe her as best he could but it hadn’t helped her much. How could it, when dying and returning to Earth against her will had held too much pain for her? She wanted to go back, needed to go back, but she wasn’t sure they would have her. She thought that maybe Heaven had let her go because she hadn’t been good enough, hadn’t been worthy, and she didn’t know what else she could give to make that right. Watching her sleep had been painful, and he’d been angry that her friends had taken her peace away. They’d had no right to put her through that, no right to tear her away from her rightful place, and no human being should ever be forced to pull themselves out of their own grave.
So long ago. It had all happened so long ago and so much has happened since then. The rise of the slayers, and vast influx of demons, had brought them together once again, to do what they could to survive.
Angel takes one last look at her before he goes out.
She looks peaceful when she sleeps.
While she sleeps, Angel hunts. There are always too many perils, too much evil, and he knows he is at least partly responsible for it. He fights until he feels the dawn approaching and then he goes home. He has breakfast, a hot shower, and then heads for bed, and this is where he always pauses.
He can never quite get used to her sharing his bed. She is beautiful. She’s far too good for him, and he wonders how long it will be before she realises she’s wasting her life while she’s with him. But for now, he has heaven in his bed. He can’t help himself; he stands over the bed and watches her. He is mesmerised by the steady intake of breath. The blonde hair cascading down over the pillow fascinates him. His eyes follow the pink strap of her nightdress, down over the curve of her breast and settles on the little bird motif in the middle. He smiles at the whimsy, and then he notices the little nipple trying to push through the thin fabric and the smile is replaced by something else. A longing, a need to be with her, and he pulls the covers back and gets in beside her.
He stretches out in the bed, his huge frame dwarfing her, and he lasts for all of thirty seconds before his hand cups her fabric-clad breast and squeezes. She moans in her sleep, but doesn’t wake. Bolder, he pinches the nipple and plays with it, until finally, her hand raises and covers his.
“Tired,” she mumbles.
Disappointed, he stops. Sleepily, she raises one arm and pleased, he scoots down the bed to rest his head on her stomach. She likes him to do that, she knows he loves to listen to the rhythm of her body, and though she’s still partly asleep, she lazily strokes her fingers through is hair. He likes that, and she can feel the appreciative low growl rumble all the way through her stomach, and she moans, too.
Her hand travels to his shoulder and she presses on it firmly. “Wake me slowly,” she whispers, and he understands immediately what she is asking for. He moves, pushing the covers out of the way as he slides further down the bed and settles between her legs.
While she was sleeping he watches her. But it’s better when she is awake.