Genre: Darla/Angel
Rating: PG 14
Frowning in D-Flat
by Tara Ann Stridh
He had heard the pounding of her heart over the telephone, and he had
felt the pain.
Now as she slept Angel held his hand against her chest, feeling the
lonesome pounding that tormented his sire. For a long time he knelt beside
the bed feeling the unsettled weight echo inside her chest, and he wept.
Darla had been the demon for four hundred years. Now she was human. Angel
was determined to find out who she truly was; he wanted to know the woman
with the soul.
Darla had left Lindsey's apartment to meet with Spike. She had pleaded the
bleach-blonde vampire to turn her, and he desperately wanted to. His promise
to Angel had stopped him. Instead he had informed her brooding child of her
whereabouts and played ignorant when Angel had come to talk with her.
Instead of talking they had fought. She had continuously slapped him,
tears forming into resentment against his resistance to change face and
attack her. When he had grabbed her she had screamed, and Spike knew that
despite her desire to turn again she was afraid of Angel. The slapping
continued, she had even punched him down below and bit his neck, but the
futile attempt resulted in surrender and tears - very much like the alley
incident with Faith.
He had taken her home with him without her protest.
Angel pushed the soft, blonde strands away from her eyes. Then he
quietly lay on the bed, embracing her from behind. For the rest of the night
he stayed, holding her, and listened to her steady breathing. It seemed to
be the only thing at rest.
When Darla awoke she slipped away from Angel's protective arms, careful
not to wake him. For several moments she watched him sleep. Then she held
her tiny hands to her chest, already sickened by the pounding that her child
had called 'a gift.'" She thought she would vomit. Maybe she could throw up
all the pain and sorrow and regret and guilt inside her.
Her steps were slow, almost trance-like as she explored the hotel room
Angel called his home. She did not want to go downstairs where the other
people were because they knew what she had been, and she knew they did not
trust her.
Then she saw the drawing pad resting in the chair. Her glistening violet
eyes gazed down upon herself. Her face drawn by her boy. She remembered
when he would spend hours drawing her in different poses. Every line he had
sketched of her had always been perfect.
Slowly she sat in the chair, bringing her knees to her chest. She hugged
the drawing and closed her eyes. Her heart had always ached for him - undead
and alive.
Raven curls twinkling upon pale cold flesh. Exotic and intoxicating eyes
looking down into his angelic face. The precious vixen with the lullaby
British accent spoke deeply into him.
When you left you made grandmother weep in the massacre.
Drusilla was gone. "Darla?"
His voice was calm and gentle. She watched him get out of bed and pull
on a pair of black pants and a black, V-neck sweater.
"Still drawing." She smiled very faintly. "Can you draw a new me?"
He took a step towards her.
"What about the real you, Darla? What was
your name before? You never told me."
Another smile. "I want to tell you. I can't. I don't remember. I wish
I could remember."
The drawing pad dropped from her hands and on to the carpet. Darla
leaned forward in the chair, her eyes begging.
"Angel, I don't know who I am? I don't know if I'm Darla with a soul or
the girl before Darla."
"Darla."
She shook her head.
"You know who you are. You're Angel. Angelus with
a soul. This is worse than being a big nothing."
His sire stood up, her fist pressed into her chest.
"I'm just drifting
chaos."
He went to her, embracing her in his arms, and her tears fell upon his
shirt.
"Angel, I can't do this. I'm not as strong as you. This soul is
drowning me. I'm dying. Murdered.
"God, it hurts so much. This feeling. All this feeling, and all I want
to do is stab myself again and again."
Angel took her hands in his, careful not to touch her wrists. They were
still sore from the cuts.
"No. You can't."
Her eyes gazed up at him, letting him hold her hands, her lips parted in
desperation.
"I can't bare to be bound to you by soul."
"You're not bound-"
"Can't you still feel my blood within you? I know you can. I still have
yours in mine, but every time I get cut or scraped I lose a little bit of
you, and I can't bare to lose you, Angelus. Not again."
"You won't. I'm going to help you."
She pushed him away, her hands firm against his chest.
"No! I will! I will because I'm already dying. I have to leave you."
"Darla, what are you talking about?"
"You think I don't know what I'm saying. You all think that, but I do
know. I can't stay here. Not like this. Not like anything."
Instinctually, Angel grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him.
"Let me go." Her eyebrow arched at him.
"No. I won't let you run. I won't let you kill yourself. It's not the
answer to what you're feeling."
Her pale gray, hooded sweatshirt fell off one shoulder as she tugged with
him, her eyes glaring up at him. Darla's voice became firm and hard.
"I'm not afraid to die. Not like you. It's why you've lived like this,
with that filthy soul inside of you, for so long. Because you're afraid.
You think you can make it up. What you were. Well, I know I can't. Four
hundred years is too long. I'd die before I am ever able to make it all up.
Redemption doesn't wait forever. Not when you're human. Not when you can
die."
Darla struggled, but he would not let her go.
"What do you care what happens to me? You killed me once already. And
if Wolfram and Hart hadn't brought me back you wouldn't even be brooding over
me like you are now. Let me go!"
With a quick and strong motion Angel turned her around, tightly holding
her petite body against him, her back to him. In her ear he whispered while
inhaling the worn peachy scent of her straight blonde strands.
"You're here now, Darla. You don't really think I'll let you go out
there alone, do you?"
The tears stained her cheeks as she leaned her head against his chest,
her breathing heavy.
"Angel, I'm so scared. I am. I don't want to die. I don't want to feel
pain. Why can't you just do it? You said I damned you. I'm asking you to
damn me."
"Don't you want to know?"
"Know what?"
"Who you are? Who they brought back?"
"It doesn't matter. The pain will still be there."
"It's part of you now."
She shuddered as he suddenly took her hand and pressed it over her heart.
"Listen to it."
Her eyes closed, and she shook her head.
"No! I don't want to hear it!"
"
It's you now! You have to listen. It hurts, I know, but you have to,
Darla."
"No, I don't want to be like you."
Darla opened her eyes with a gasp when she felt Angel's hand slip beneath
her top, gliding over her warm skin. His large hand gently cupped her left
breast, and she shivered.
"So cold. Let it freeze my heart." Sadness lurked within her tired,
melodious voice.
His lips tickled near her ear, her heart pounding deeper and her nipple
hard beneath his tender palm.
"Did I make love to you?"
She slid her head against his chest.
"All dreams, my darling boy, but
you did long ago."
For a moment Darla rested her hand over his, the smooth material of her
top separating their flesh from one another. Then she shoved him away,
cupping her hand over the breast he had touched.
Her voice threatened with disbelief.
"Don't touch me again."
Then she wrapped the hooded sweatshirt over her chest, taking a step away.
"It only hurts more."