Fic by Author  Era  Pairing  Rating  Title

Intervention
by Pet
Email: (katiemac3@hotmail.com)
Pairing: Angel/Kate
Rating: NC-17
Distribution: Please ask first, but I promise I'll say yes!
Disclaimer: Not mine. Joss's. Please don't sue.
Notes: This is an alternate ending for 'Reprise.' Spoilage resides herein. Also, I would like to take this moment to blame Kass for my abrupt descent into hetfic. It's all her fault. Blame her. No, really. Though I do hate Kate much less than I hate Darla, so I suppose this might have been much worse. Here you go, babe!

Spoiler space. Aren't I nice?

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"Just for when you're feeling anxious" the doctor had told her, and it seemed that, boy, he was as smart as all the framed paper on the wall said he was. Kate had been feeling anxious, very anxious, and now she wasn't. Was not. Was drifting happily, on a pillow of vodka and Xanax. Wow. This was nice. The floor was nice. Why was there a phone in her hand? Oh, right. She'd called Angel, back when she was feeling anxious. Pretty Angel. Tall and strong and dark-eyed Angel. It was kind of a funny name though, for him. He didn't really LOOK Hispanic. Or like a girl. If Kate ever had a son, she DEFINITELY wouldn't call him something girly like Angel. He'd get beat up in school. Wonder if Angel ever got beat up in school? Wait, did Angel even have school? Wasn't he really old? Maybe he was little before there were schools. Kate giggled a little at the thought of cave-parents raising a cave-Angel. Club and all.

Hmmm. This suicide thing wasn't half as bad as everyone made it out to be. Just kind of drifting. Imagining Angel. Imagining Angel naked, and ooh, that was nice. Hadn't he done something bad, though? She couldn't remember. It didn't really matter now, she supposed. She hoped she hadn't been mean on the message. It would be a terrible thing if the last words Angel ever heard from her were mean. That is, if he even knew how to get his messages. Cave-Angels didn't have answering machines, she was pretty sure. Giggle.

Wow. He was really on her mind. She could even hear his voice, calling her name. That was nice. He sounded mad, though. Why was Angel mad at her? She couldn't remember. Maybe she HAD been mean and he was here to yell. That wouldn't be fun at all. She might get anxious again and miss out on all this lovely floating. Oh, and there was a pounding on the door, too. Wait, he WAS here?

"Come in...." her voice drifted through her lips with no permission from her. Damn. Now he's invited. Crashing sounds. There goes the door. Too bad he heard me. No more floating.

An annoyed and still alarmingly sexy face was hovering, disembodied, before her eyes. Hallucination. Whew. It was moving its lips, though. Soft, slurry sounds made it to her ears. She had NO idea what he was saying. The face went away, and then the world spun URP! and she was pressed against something that smelled like leather, and all of a sudden not feeling so good. She flopped a hand against Angel's shoulder. Put me down, Angel, things were going so well...

Cold tile against her knees, and a strong hand on the back of her neck, bending her down. The world was all white and cold now. This wasn't fun any more. Less fun when someone pushed on her stomach and it finally, finally revolted against her. Revolting. Good word. Ugh. She felt like she was losing everything she'd eaten for an entire month. If she threw up one more time, just ONE, all her insides were going to come out. And her throat hurt. A LOT.

Someone was wiping her face with a washcloth, handing her a glass and forcing her to drink. Over the toilet again, and her brain was starting to clear, and that cold crawling real-world feeling was coming back. No job. No life. And now Angel...Angel seeing her like this...she couldn't tell if the tears running down her face were from the sickness or the pain or the shame. This was just too much. Too bad they'd taken her service revolver away. That would have been much quicker than this slow death by torture.

Finally, finally she was allowed to collapse back onto her folded ankles, and rest her head on the toilet seat. Cold. Colder than her insides, even. The toilet flushed, and she could feel the icy fresh water chilling the porcelain against her arm. The big dark figure her peripheral vision was catching was standing very still, very silent. Oh, Angel, she begged in her mind. Please, please just go.

He left. Walked out of the bathroom, and, she hoped, her apartment. Left her sitting there, wondering if she could reach the medicine cabinet. Surely she had something in there that would do for round two. But she was so tired...so cold...

"So cold..." she whispered to herself, to the medicine cabinet, to the absent Angel.

"I know, Kate." The warm dark voice from behind surprised her into jerking her head off her arm, and a large hand curled around her bicep, another at the back of her neck. Lifted her gently to her feet, where she stood, dazed and swaying. "Here." He pressed a hot mug into her hand, and watched as she sipped the tea. Black eyes following every move, grabbing for the cup when her hand shook too much to hold on. The tea was sweet with honey, and hot going down, and she could feel the shivers slowing, then stopping. Shook her damp hair out of her face, and stared up at him for the first time.

"Why?..." Voice a hoarse whisper through her aching throat, but she saw the sadness on his face and had to know.

"Oh, Kate..." He reached out, brushed a tendril of hair from the corner of her eye with a delicate finger. "You're one of the good ones. I couldn't let one of the only good ones go."

"But I was so, so nasty to you. You should have just left me alone..."

He shook his head. "I couldn't. I had to come here. Had to help. Had to feel something other than the cold..." he shivered a little, "don't you ever want to feel something other than the cold?" And she could see that his eyes were bleak, now, behind the sadness. Not just the hardness of the last few months. This was different. This was hopelessness.

She looked at him consideringly, feeling steady on her feet for the first time since she had walked out of the hearing, back straight, insides shattering like brittle glass. It was surreal, really. Here she was, standing in her bathroom with a vampire who had just saved her life by holding her head over a toilet bowl. Talking. And she had an uneasy feeling that in the grand scheme of things, he was worse off than she was. Well, maybe she could help. It was a night of firsts, after all. First firing. First suicide attempt. And no one had ever accused her of being a coward.

She set the mug down on the rim of the sink, cupped water and rinsed her mouth again while he watched. Swished mouthwash, because she could still taste the sour tang of vomit on the back of her tongue.

"Come on." She reached out and grabbed his hand, tugged, and he followed her out, startled and unresisting. It was rather like towing a large tanker, she thought giddily. He was just so BIG. She pulled him after her into the bedroom, all blue and white and meticulously clean. Stopped by the bed, turned, and in one sudden move, cupped his face in her hands and pulled his mouth down to hers.

He was frozen in shock, she could tell. They'd never touched like this, never even held hands, and here she was, mouth on cool wide mouth, pushing at his lips with her tongue, demanding entrance. He parted them to speak, and she dove in. Mmmm. Even in her fantasies, she hadn't imagined that he would taste so sweet, that his tongue would meet hers, tentatively at first, then stronger, as big hands came up to hold her, one in her hair, one pressing against the small of her back. That feeling of infinite strength held in check, the hard planes of his face against her palms as he angled his head to kiss her more thoroughly. And in her fantasies, he definitely didn't pull away, dropping his hands and shaking his head, as if to clear it.

"Kate, I can't...I CAN'T..."

"Sure you can." She stepped back up to press herself against him. "No more cold, Angel. Not tonight. Not for either of us." And he stared down into her eyes, at her breathless parted mouth, and pushed against her, and she could see a kind of relief in his eyes. He was letting go.

"Fuck it..." he whispered, and grabbed her hair to pull her head back, so he could drop little nibbling kisses down her throat. She moaned, grabbed at his shoulders with her hands, and stumbled back unresisting when he walked forward, shoving her against the bed and then down. His hands were everywhere, pulling at her sleeves and yanking her shirt off over her head, and she could hear him sigh when he realized she was naked underneath. His head bent to her breast, and for just a second the frantic pace slowed. Her fingers wound into spiky dark hair, even as she felt that amazing cool mouth on one nipple, then the other, and his hands kneaded at her waist. "So soft and warm..." he murmured against her, and then was back up, attacking her mouth with his own. Hands stripping her ruthlessly, then himself, more quickly than she could see. And he was pressing her down into the bed, and she had never felt this kind of need from ANYONE, ever, as his mouth moved frantically over her face, neck, breasts. She reached around, pulling at slim hips, forcing him into contact between her spread legs. Letting him feel her heat and wetness. He threw his head back, letting go of her mouth, jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut, and she thought wonderingly that it looked like he was burning.

"Can't wait, can't wait, Kate..." She could feel heavy slick bluntness bumping against her, demanding entry, and spread her legs further, throwing one ankle up around his waist. Ran her hands down bunched muscles in his arms, back up to wide pale shoulders, pulled his face back up to stare into his eyes.

"Come on, Angel." Challengingly. "Fuck me."

He groaned, and thrust, and was in in one smooth hard slide. GOD he was big, and hard, and colder than she'd expected, and his hands were gripping her head hard enough to hurt, and she whimpered and pushed her hips up into him, taking him deeper, feeling the bones of his pelvis slam into the insides of her thighs. And he was pushing steadily, faster and faster, and god she needed the burn, needed the pain, needed the pressure that hit her clit on every. single. stroke. and was making her lose her mind, needed Angel's mouth at her throat, biting lightly, needed her hands to dig into his back drawing a growl and stolen blood. Needed to see him arch against her and pant, eyes dazed, as he came, as she followed him with that one long pulse and a shudder and a scream.

And he collapsed boneless onto her, driving her breath out of her with an 'oof.' Pulled her over so she was laying on top of him. He was hard again already (how long HAS it been, Angel?), but suddenly she couldn't move. It was all too much. Her stomach growled, and she thought he almost smiled, and she grinned sleepily at him and laid her head down on that convenient broad smooth chest, and felt herself drifting again. But this time it was different. This time she was drifting with Angel.

"Kate..."

"Hmm?"

"In the morning..."

"What?"

Pause.

"Never mind."