Angel thinking about fanged four days gone by.
Sometimes Angel slept and he didn’t dream.
Sometimes he woke with the memory of copper on his tongue. Laughter in his mind. Darla’s hands echoed on his skin. The cool press of Spike. Drusilla’s thighs tight around his ribs as she rode his cock and he had to hold on to her. Bones as hollow as a bird. Afraid she would fly away.
The sensation of not hunger. Eating when they chose. Killing when they wanted. Taking what they needed. Hunting with a pack, everything shared. Sex. Food.
His soul couldn’t stop him from dreaming of *craving* the past.
Yis! I'm working on them all. Trust me.