[Reviews - 37]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2109 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
Hey guys, sorry it took so long. For those who don't know, a rake is basically a chauvinistic male, similar to a ho. Hope you enjoy this one! Please review :)
Angelus rode his sleek, black horse across the countryside as the wind swept his feathery, brown hair across his forehead. It was in good timing that he left Hunterton village, considering his naughty deeds. Angelus smiled fondly as he recalled their faces…

He had originally planned to head East towards Offa’s Wall, but got sidetracked by the most glorious scent. Needless to say, he was compelled to follow it. He eventually landed upon a forest, shrouded in thick mist. Surveying the ground, he noticed hoof tracks and the footsteps of female boots headed into the mass. Never one to pass up an opportunity, Angelus began to plan.

Quite suddenly, the mist split in front of him and created a path through the trees. It seemed luck had found him once again. He jumped back on his horse and guided him through the narrow trees with which the path provided him.

Oh yes, this would be a good night indeed.

. . . . . . . .

William ran as fast as his human legs could carry him. He prayed she hadn’t left the forest again; he didn’t think he could take another few months without her. But the Queen gave him the night! He could run out and find her if that were the case.

Nonetheless, he hoped she hadn’t run off.

. . . . . . . .

As he trotted through the woods, Angelus considered his past. His children, his rotting wife, and the many girls of the villages he passed through.

When he was a lad of merely twenty-one, hardly an age for commitment, he married the mayor’s eldest daughter. At first, everything was wonderful: they made love every evening under the stars, talked for hours, kept each other company. It was the perfect life until the babies came.

First, there was little Xander, wrinkly and pale. From the day he was born, he cried nonstop as if the world had done him some great injustice by pulling him into it. He would not sleep or eat or play without crying hysterically. Just about when Angelus considered pulling his hair out, another one came.

Skinny Winifred slithered out of his wife’s womb like a serpent, come to ruin his life. The wife was supposed to mother them, not him. She was supposed to take care of the children while he worked and lie with him whenever he wished, just as they had before the pests were born, but no. She was too tired, frazzled, and overwhelmed and she constantly needed his help. When irritating Dawn came, all hell broke loose.

When his wife was asleep, he took advantage of her position. God knows he would never lie with her again if she were given the choice. He left the house for hours, sometimes even days, to escape the constant berating. It was not his responsibility to take care of the home. And when his wife told him that she was pregnant again he lost the last of his control.

Tired of his children, of his wife’s complaining, he decided to do something about it. On the day of delivery, he slipped a little poison into her drink. His wife and the new one, Daniel, died soon after.

At first, he was pleased with his work. No more would he have to deal with the pestering, the whining, and the aggravation. Sitting at her deathbed, his three children scampered closer and stared up at him. All he wanted was a new life, but they held him back. He knew he had to take care of them.

First, he fed foxglove to skinny Winifred, killing her instantly. Dawn was easier still for he left her alone to drown in the bath. Xander was more difficult because the seven year old fought gallantly for his life. Needless to say, he was no match for his father, the man he might have turned out to be had Angelus not burned him alive in fury. I wasn’t a bad man, I just knew what I wanted, he justified himself.

He told few the tale of his wife and children and they naturally wondered if he felt terribly about it. Angelus always replied that he was tortured by his bout of madness, but in all honestly, it never really bothered him.

In fact, he looked upon the time with fondness for it was the first time he felt free.

The aroma that brought him to the forest changed directions, and he with it.

. . . . . . . .

Drusilla watched the events unfold through her many eyes in the forest. She smiled at her cleverness. Soon, the Rake would find the heathen Buffy and everything would go according to plan. He would ride directly to the River Annan and then need her help. He would dispatch the girl before William had the chance to run away with her. She was not a fool; she was well aware of his plan. William was a sweet boy, but ingenious schemes were never his forte.

Which was why he needed to stay with her. There was no guarantee of his safety if she was not around to protect him. He could not take care of himself, and Buffy would certainly lead him to unspeakable horrors.

He did not know the real world, society and jobs… She never thought to tell him such things for she never imagined he would become so hateful toward her. But if he wanted to perish in the world of war and men, so be it.

However, she would not let him succeed in his task. She would rather have him dead than fear for her sons’ life. Not that she wanted to kill him. Drusilla did not believe it would come to that.

It was a simple plan really and he would fall in line, just as he had every other time.

. . . . . . . .

The smell was getting stronger. It reminded him of a field of flowers, which in theory disgusted him, but now seemed the most wonderful of all scents. It filled him with a desire he had never experienced. Finally, he found the object of his lust sleeping against a tree.

He did not want to wake her so he swiftly jumped off his horse and tiptoed toward her. He lifted her up, tightly wrapped her fingers together and slung her across his horse. The creature huffed as more weight was added to his straining form. Following her up there, he sped through the trees.

He needed a place to defile his new toy.

. . . . . . . .

William picked a few wild flowers to give to his love. He remembered a story his mother once told him about a man who gave flowers to his lady and they were wed. In his memory, the face of his mother turned into a human he did not recognize. It quickly changed back and he shook his head free from the thought. Had that been his true mother? Was she still alive? What if she still wanted him? What if she forgot about him?

Again, he shook his head. It would do him no good to ponder those things.

With several flowers in hand, he took a deep breath and made his way to the brush. As he reached their meeting placed, his heart dropped and shattered. She was gone again. William threw the flowers on the ground and collapsed to his knees. A primal growl erupted from deep in his chest and echoed through the trees.

Not so far away, a pair of emerald eyes shot open at his cry.


Chapter End Notes:
Please review and I will write faster :)



You must login (register) to review.