Title: Desire Cycle 3: Possession

Author: Serafina

email: serafina20@hotmail.com

Rating: R

Pairing: Wesley/Lindsey

Archive: anywhere, but I do like to be told where it goes

Disclaimers: I don't own them (sigh) I just like to play with them. Don't sue, I have nothing and make nothing.

Feedback: It makes me happy and feeds my muse. Even if you hate it, I'd like to know why so I can get better.

Summary: Angel's thoughts from his POV

Notes: This is the final in a series that includes "Meditaion on Desire" and "Twisted Obsession"

Wants. Needs. One wants, one desires, one possesses. That is life. That is how I operate. What I want is mine to keep, to guard, to protect.

Like my boy.

He has been by my side for over a year now. He doesn't know how I feel about him. I keep him at a distance, smiling infrequently, praising rarely, adoring silently. I watch him always. He is so beautiful, so intelligent. I rely on him for so much, yet I cannot seem to tell him how much I appreciate him.

When I saw my building explode with the knowledge he was inside, I did not stop to think. I could only act, crashing through the burning inferno worse than death to save my Wesley. If he had died, if I had lost him... I don't even want to think of what would have happened to me. After Doyle, the loss of Wesley would have been too much.

I know what he wanted then, what he wants now. He can't hide the simplest emotion. Everything his reflected in Wesley's eyes.

Wesley's eyes. Clear, expressive, deep. I could spend a lifetime gazing into them, exploring them, forgetting my past, my life, my pain. I want...

But I can't. I can't risk letting myself getting too close. I can't tell him either. Better he doesn't know. Better he think my days are spent concerned with others, concerned with finding Darla.

Darla. My sire. What wouldn't I do for her? There was a time I thought I would do anything to please her. Now I know better. I am no longer who she wants, who she needs. I never will be again.

Wesley found a prophecy that claims I will become human again someday. I don't know what that is anymore. I haven't been human for so long, I no longer remember how to truly be one. I look at Darla, now human, and see how hard it is for her. Humanity is so much more than a soul. I don't think I could ever be truly human again.

Wesley would not understand. He does not comprehend what I truly am. I am a vampire with a soul. This does not make me a non-breathing human who drinks blood. That doesn't describe me. I am a demon with a conscious, a monster who cares. Not human, incapable of normal, human relationships.

Buffy was an abnormality and never would have lasted. I don't date; I claim, I own.

I've claimed Wesley. He doesn't know. I can only imagine that he would be dismayed to find out. He belongs to me. Not my associate or partner; he is *mine.*

Yes, I am possessive. It's a vampire thing. Darla was mine, Drusilla was mine, even Spike was mine. He was created because I allowed Dru to do so, I *let* her do it. Then I claimed his as my own so everyone would know to whom he belonged.

No, Wesley would not be happy if he knew how I see him. He is very independent. He should be pleased, though. I would kill for him, die for him, do anything to ensure his happiness.

Like allowing him to fuck my enemy.

He thinks I don't know. Of course I know. It is very important to me that I know who or what touches my boy. And he can't hide it by showering or sleeping with the girl or wearing too much cologne.

I know.

He could have had anyone. He is so beautiful, so inherently seductive that he could have drawn men to him with just a glance. I've seen the looks he gets even if he doesn't. He could have chosen anyone to fill his bed and satisfy his lust. He chose Lindsey. Or Lindsey chose him; I don't know which. I don't care which. All that matters is one simple fact. Wesley chose to fuck my enemy.

I was angry. I planned to stake my claim, to tie him up, keep him from going back. Then I calmed and I decided, instead, to follow Wesley, watch them. I am driving my boy insane. He needs this, needs someone who understands enough to fuck him senseless and satisfy his desire. For some reason, Lindsey can do this

I want to be that someone. I want to fuck Wesley, make love to Wesley, be with Wesley. But I can't. I don't know why. It isn't the curse I'm afraid of. I don't think *anything* can make me that happy again. Wesley is too perfect, too pure. I don't want to defile him. I don't want to destroy him.

Like I did Doyle.

One night, that was all. It was a moment of weakness after weeks of longing. I kissed him and he kissed me and we made love. I loved him. Then, he was gone. I can't do that to Wesley. He is, if possible, more precious than even Buffy.

I can't take that chance.

So, Lindsey.

I watch them carefully. I need to; I can't risk allowing my enemy to hurt my boy.

A few weeks after their illicit affair began, Lindsey purchased an apartment. It was signed under Wesley's name. A more permanent location for an ongoing fuck fest.

Wesley is losing that terrifying look of perpetual hunger he used to walk around with.

I always follow Wesley home, just to make sure he is safe. He walks, always, slowly, elegantly.

He has no idea how exquisite he is, how perfect. He is like a rare bloom, one I must carefully guard and love.

Tonight, I go to Lindsey's as well. I tell myself it is because he is important to my boy's well being and happiness. I almost believe myself.

I stand in the shadows, watching my enemy through his window. He is sitting on his couch, hair mussed, the collar of his shirt open. I can see the steady pulsating of a vein under his skin as his blood flows through.

He is so alive.

Lindsey caresses his prosthetic hand, his eyes far away. I remember the moment I sliced his hand off. I felt so powerful, strong.

I had wanted to do more in that moment; I had wanted to fuck Lindsey in front of everyone, in front of Holland, and show them all that *I* controlled the lawyer.

I wanted . . .

I had wanted to claim him. Even now.

I want Lindsey McDonald.

He eventually falls asleep on the couch. He is still dressed and still smelling of Wesley.

I go home, my thoughts full of my boys.

I want them. They want me. They have each other. They belong to me. A cycle of desire, a cycle of obsession, a cycle of possession.

My boys.

END PART 3