Title: It just goes on and on
Author: Maggie M
Fandom: Angel
Pairing: Aus/Penn
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoiler: "Somnambulist"
Summary: The office scene in "Somnambulist" from Penn's POV
Archive: List archives, anyone else, please ask.
Feedback: dil@poczta.fm
Dedicated to Bridie for obvious reasons and to Mouse for beta and being a wonderful friend.
Note: Here it is. My first AtS fic. It was inspired by Bridie's wonderful story "An Apt Pupil" and is posted with her kind permission. You really need to have read An Apt Pupil' to understand this. Go on, do it, you won't be disappointed, I promise. :) You can find it here: http://www.geocities.com/btvsslash2/ab/anapt.html

*****

They stay, facing each other, divided by the by the swath of sunlight shining in through the window. For a while they just stare. Penn speaks first. "Well," he says, laughing. "Look who's back from his 'up with people' meeting." He knows, after the scene in the abandoned building with that blonde cop, that he shouldn't be surprised by Angelus's response. But it still hurts.

"Give me a stake," Angelus says, not taking his eyes off him.

Looking into the cold brown eyes of his Sire, Penn remembers.

He summons to memory the first night of his new life and those eyes that were so full of desire and want and passion. He remembers how bold he was, how confident, how completely sure that this was what he wanted. He recalls the joy he felt when Angelus told him he didn't have to go back to his father. The fire in his veins when Angelus pushed him onto the bed and pressed his clothed body to his naked one.

He remembers the choice that wasn't his, and yet, in a way it, was. Because he made it when he looked into those beautiful, dark, lustful eyes for the first time in that filthy coffee house.

Penn remembers how demanding he was. 'Promise me,' he'd whispered as he was dying in the arms of the demon that drained him of his blood. The demon he desired. The demon he loved. 'This won't stop. This will go on and on. Promise,' he'd insisted. 'Forever, love,' the demon vowed. But forever didn't last long.

Penn remembers how alert and needy and horny he was after awakening the next night. How all his nerves were tingling with sensations and only his Sire's touch could bring sense to all this.

A flood of images and memories in his head and a dull ache in his un-beating heart. Penn hides the hurt and pain behind the sarcastic smirk. "What? You don't drink, so now no one gets to?" he asks.

"I don't expect you to understand," Angelus says.

/You bastard/ Penn wants to shout. /You made me, I was your first Childe, does it count for nothing to you!/ Instead he replies in a calm and cold voice, "Oh, I understand. I was a Puritan, remember?" /I can play this game, too, Sire, you see?/

But his composure doesn't last long and Angelus's next words make him boil inside with fury. "It's gotta end," Angelus says.

"Why? - Because you say so?" Penn throws with anger as another memory forces its way into his mind.

/'Why, Sire?' Penn laughs and tries to free his hands from his Sire's iron grip. Angelus pushes him back on the bed and covers Penn's body with his own. 'Because I say so, Childe' he growls. His hard erection rubs against Penn's and it makes him instantly forget all the question he wanted to ask./

"And how does that work exactly?" Penn asks. "You just wake up one morning and decide 'Okay, now I'm good!'" he adds, laughing. He pauses for a second and looks carefully at his Sire. "No, Angelus, it doesn't end. It never, ever ends. It just goes on and on" he continues.

Angelus tenses at the words, his fingers tightening on the stake that the mortal girl just gave him. Penn smiles bitterly. So his Sire remembers that night. Well, well, what a surprise.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you, Penn, for what I turned you into," Angelus says, turning the stake in his hand.

"First class killer?" Penn asks. "An artist? A bold re-interpreter of the form?" /Why are you sorry?/ is what he wants to ask /You should be proud of me, Sire. I'm your best pupil, your most talented apprentice./

"Try cheesy hack," Angelus says.

His words, filled with contempt and malice, hurt so much. Penn wants nothing more than but to force them back into his Sire's mocking mouth. But instinctively he takes a step back to the door. A Childe's reaction to his Sire's wrath and it angers him that Angelus still can make him feel that way.

"Oh, you are so prosaic," Angelus taunts, his body prepared to strike.

Penn slowly retreats towards the door. Angelus's insults still ring in his ears. What little hope had brought him to this place is now dead and buried. That creature, standing there, ready to push the stake in his heart - that isn't his Sire. Penn wants to kill, destroy, annihilate. To kill Angelus for not caring anymore about him, his Childe, his blood, his love. /Forever, love. I promise./ To kill those humans, because Angelus cares about them. But before he can make his next move, the door open and a tall, dark-haired mortal wearing glasses comes in.

"Nothing on the streets about a new vampire in town," he says, not seeing Penn.

/Another one of Sire's new pets/ Penn thinks. And before the girl can warn the newcomer, Penn grabs him from behind. /And what will you do now, oh, Sire of mine?/ Penn thinks and presses a bit more on the mortal's neck. He wants to just snap it and throw the lifeless body at Angelus's feet. But his Sire is right. It's pathetic and clichéd. And wasn't he schooled by the most skilled artisan'. /A real kill. A good kill. It takes pure artistry, lad. Without that, we're just animals./

"Let him go!" Angelus demands and Penn almost laughs hearing an unspoken 'boy' at the end.

/Guess what, Sire. I'm not your boy anymore and you don't have the right to order me around. You lost that right. You care more about the meal than about me. So be it. I don't need you./ "You're right, Angelus, my work was getting stale. I appreciate the critique," Penn says.

He looks at Angelus and all he sees is cold hatred in the brown eyes. The mortal in his arms has stopped struggling, but the frightened rhythm of his heart and the delicious smell of his fear make Penn's head reeling. He has to get out of this place before his instincts take over and he'll do something stupid. /I don't need you/ he repeats silently, pushing away that little voice that sings mockingly /That's not true, that's not true, that's not true and you know it/ in the back on his mind.

"So look for something new, innovative, something shockingly original. Just think of the worst possible thing you can imagine, and I'll see you there," he says with a calm, he doesn't feel at all. He steals one last look at his Sire. Then he pushes the mortal onto Angelus, covers his head with his coat and runs out. And he can't help but hope desperately that he will hear 'Wait, Penn. Stop, my precious gem' in his Sire's loving voice. But only silence chases him. And that moisture on his cheek, it isn't a tear, not at all. Something just felt into his eye.

The end