Secret Slasha — The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project
Secret Slasha — The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project

Sunlike, Earthlike
By Voleuse
For Pesha

There hasn't been a prison built that can hold Ethan Rayne. Not even a prison built by those American government bastards, though finagling out of that one is a challenge. They did their research, and they like doing more on him.

When the sun goes out over Los Angeles, he's already managed to persuade the vampire in the next cell to dig, dig until its fingers break off. It's difficult to persuade with only words and blood, but Ethan's always willing to adapt. The guards are distracted, muttering about a demon convergence, and when they secure him for his meal, they're sloppy. A hop, skip, and a strangulation later, Ethan's keying into the vampire's cell and they're breaking through the walls, through the dirt. They travel through tunnels, and Ethan ignores the vampire's hungry gaze.

They emerge into a frenzied Las Vegas afternoon, and when the vampire catches fire, nobody even notices.

Ethan puts his hands in his government-stitched pockets and smiles. "I love this city."


He doesn't need to resort to thievery to prise the clothes off a broker's back. Neither does he need trickery to gain plane ticket. He smiles, and he writes his prayers with his fingers and his tongue.

Freedom, he finds, tastes like sweat and a glass of bourbon. He dumps the body in a parking lot in Primm.

There's no traffic on the drive to Los Angeles.


It's something like a cliché: A man walks into a bar and finds out all there is to drink is him.

Ethan does not bother to wear a cross. He stands inside the door and waits for the vampires to come to him. The first one, he stakes. The second one is pretty, and he lets it get close enough to taste.

The pain is sweet, and then she hisses, screams. Her teeth clench into his throat, and he shoves her away with one hand. She falls to the floor, gagging.

The others are watching him, silent. He lets the blood trickle down to his shoulder, strides to the abandoned counter, all nonchalance.

"I might die of thirst," he announces to the room. He pours himself a glass of tequila.


Ethan situates himself at a table. He's claimed two bottles for himself, as well as the vampire that bit him. (She makes up for the affront in marvelous ways. He's almost tempted to keep her.) The noise returns and rises in his wake, music and broken bones and shrieks.

He closes his eyes and it all fill him. He's been starved of chaos for too long.

Then, nothing. The sudden, shocked silence is unwelcome, as is the wave of mutters that follows. Ethan opens his eyes, shoves off the vampire again. Posed in the door's frame is a familiar face.

He smirks, and when Angelus notices him, Ethan waves.


For the most part, Ethan does not enjoy being lifted bodily and slammed into walls. Those military bastards were fond of doing it, though. It was tiresome.

The smile Angelus bears as he does it, however, is fit to frame. The wall is cold cement, and Ethan arches at the ache of it. "Lovely to see you." Angelus smells like terror and pennies. Ethan can feel the energy of him, a twisted pulse emanating from his skin like heat.

"I know you," Angelus observes. "You put a demon in me once."

"I suppose I did." Ethan curves further, presses their bodies together. "You might return the favor."

Angelus's grip tightens against Ethan's throat, then their lips clash together, all teeth and liquor and blood. For a second, Ethan can't breathe at all. He struggles, strokes a hand down Angelus's chest, and lower. Then he's released, and the rush of oxygen dizzies him.

He steadies himself by yanking open the fastenings of Angelus's trousers, delving past the leather to find skin surprisingly hot. When he finally weighs Angelus's cock in his palm, Angelus growls. He thrusts, thrusts, and his teeth graze Ethan's shoulder, unbiting. With his other hand, Ethan rubs himself through fabric.

He lets go of Angelus, though vulgar threats ensue, and repositions himself. He rises on his feet and writhes, and Angelus bucks against him, hard and harder.

When Angelus comes, Ethan's only halfway there, and he slides down the wall with a curse.

Angelus laughs as he pulls his clothing into place, and beckons to Ethan's vampire wench. "Finish him off, would you?"

She slouches out of her chair and crawls into Ethan's lap, and her lips are still wet with blood. Ethan clutches her head with both hands.

Above them, Angelus looms. "I'd stay and cuddle, but I have demons to kill."

"How noble," Ethan gasps, muscles straining as his hips pump. "Unlike you."

Angelus bends, leans down, and kisses Ethan until he comes.

Then he's backing away, to the door. "Thanks for lending a hand," he says. He points a finger at Ethan like a gun, and winks, and exits.

Ethan stands on shaky feet, and looks for another drink.