Distro: Redssoulmates, Mystifying Dreams, NHA, WLS...anyone else, ask and you shall receive.
Pairing: W/Aus
Rating: NC17 most likely
Summary: In season 1 Buffy took something from Angelus.he is taking it back.
Warning: I don't expect this to be a nice fic. Angelus is demonic and pretty determined. So sex, slash, blood, non-con, death.it's all here. Be warned.
A/N - Spike is Angelus' childe not Drusilla's. This is season and two and that was the story back then.
Thanks to my beta Jenni! I need more Alarum please!
This is my first W/Aus ever without it being a W/S and it's for Gabrielle. We struck a bargain and this is my end of it.
Feedback will only encourage me to write more.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~Part: 1~
He intends to kill something.destroy something beautiful and precious. Leaping up easily, he lands with a quiet thump on her balcony, the sound no more intrusive than the careful closing of a book.
She is there, at her computer, no doubt researching for a way to get rid of him and his childer. He smiles, thinking of the all the mischief Drusilla and Spike got up to in his absence. Now that he is back to himself, uninfected, he can see them for what they are: his brilliant and deadly progeny. He has been a bit mean-spirited with Spike lately, but the anger at his bleached blond childe over the ritual to cure Dru and kill him is wearing thin and soon the two of them will be back to bickering, biting and bedding.
It is their way.
Willow leans back in her chair, the long red tresses swinging rhythmically. He stares for a moment, mesmerized, until they still. He wonders if they will retain that brilliance in darkness, or if it is a product of being kissed by the rays of the strong Californian sun.
Truly, there is but one way to know for sure. Decision made, he knocks lightly, grinning with amusement as she twists around quickly toward the sound. There are only sheers on the French doors leading out and as she approaches she knows the looming figure she makes out through the thin fabric is not Buffy or even Xander.
Her shaky hand is on the knob, ready to turn it, before she comes to her senses and freezes.
"What's the matter, Willow? Not happy to see me?"
His voice, although muffled slightly by wood and glass, raises the fine hairs on her arms. Instincts are on full alert and she realizes this is bad.
"Angelus." she pants as she takes a step back, wringing her hands together. There is a stake and a cross in her drawer, but she resists the urge to look over there. He is watching her too closely for that.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" She shakes her head, praying that the invitation to Angel that she so carelessly gave months ago does not extend to his soulless counterpart. She hears more than sees the useless lock break. He pushes and the door creaks open, but he does not cross over.
Her mind is swirling with impulses. To run, to scream are the most dominant and the least useful, taking up the space that a good idea could occupy, if she were to get one.
And he is smiling. She expects that is the most disconcerting part of this encounter, Angel smiling. Of course this is Angelus and she supposes that the vampire, without a soul to torture him, is basically a happy-go-lucky guy. Smiling might be an everyday occurrence for him.
Her gasp is audible and the fear jumps exponentially as he crosses the threshold and enters her room, her home, her sanctuary.
"I thought you had better manners, Willow? We really need to have a chat with you parents."
"No." She says, retreating as she shakes her head in denial.
His hands are in the pockets of his black trench coat and he has done nothing overtly threatening, yet she is in more danger now than she has ever been. No one is coming. She knows it. He knows it. So he is ever watchful. She is the smart one and he does not want her to think her way out of this situation. Given time he has no doubt that she could.
"No what, sweet thing?" He is upon her now, and brings a large powerful hand up to caress her smooth pale skin.
"Please.let me go."
"I'm sorry, Willow.I can't. You see, my insane girl, who is just bubbling with joy about this, tells me that you, with the help of the lovely Jenny Calandar, will try something stupid."
She has no idea what he knows. "I haven't done anything. We don't even speak to her."
He looks almost apologetic. 'I know. But you will." He circles her small form and breathes in her scent. He wants to remember it. It will change soon, not for better or worse, but different.eternally so. "It's unfortunate really, but inevitable."
"What is?" The longer she talks the longer she lives. It's her defense and the only one she has, so she does not let go of it.
"I knew it that first night," he says shaking his finger at her, as if he were chastising her. "In the school as you writhed against me.I knew it then. You were mine and I let Buffy distract me. I mean someone had to pay for Darla and who better than the bitch that the souled pussy killed my sire for." He is off topic and reigns in his formidable anger. The job he must do does not allow for rage. He wants her competent and undamaged, a perfectly preserved beauty.
"I don't understand." But she is beginning to suspect and starts to cry. He allows it, wants her to enjoy it.
He stops his circling and leans against a wall. "I've found a better way. It was all Spike's idea so you really must thank him later." He must thank his William as well and decides to heal his boy tonight. It has been too long.
Her eyes narrow as tears spill. Nothing about this conversation sounds good to her, like something she would be thankful about.
"See Willow, she took something from me, from my family.and I'm taking it back. I could just kill you, but what a waste that would be. So you will join us. Be a part of my family."
He pushes off from the wall and takes her by the hand before she can run. She resists, and he laughs at the futility of it, before sinking his fangs into her. The taste is more alluring than he expected, hinting at magic, and he considers turning her now, but decides not to upset the plan and drains her only until she looses consciousness. He takes a look around the room and stuffs her book bag with a few things. She'll want something familiar in the beginning, before her demon strips away the lingering humanity.
He slings the bag over his shoulder and picks her up, leaving the way he came.
Spike and Drusilla are waiting.
~Part: 2~
Drusilla is dancing when Angelus enters the mansion, entertaining Spike as she gyrates her hips without thought. So fluid are her movements that they do not appear vulgar or improper, but more like a glimpse into the machinations of seduction. Spike pays special attention to his Princess. Feeling has been returning to his lower extremities and he will soon take her to his bed again. For now, he is happy with his progress. The watching is all part of the game.
The blond tilts his head slightly upon hearing Angelus approaching from the garden, seemingly loaded down with a burden that is but a feather in weight to him. Spike smiles, but focuses on his dark princess as he speaks.
"Successful, I see." He feigns nonchalance. Becoming overtly intrigued in anything Angelus does is never beneficial if the older vampire knows of that interest. So Spike gazes at Dru, content in this deception, because it is also what he wants to do.
"Of course.And it was so easy, almost too easy.like she wanted this to happen." He sets the backpack on a table, glancing at Drusilla, who is lost in the fever of motion. Nothing either of them does could call her back to them, short of knocking her out. Each has done that before, but her resulting temper is not usually worth it. "Is the room ready?"
Spike nods, keeping his eyes on the twirling brunette a few seconds more before finally gracing his sire with his reluctant attention. "Yeah, the one across from you, just like you said." He turns back to Dru. His annoyance at being interrupted is thinly veiled and starting to give the older vampire pause. Spike should be interested in this. It is his plan.
Angel carries her unconscious form up the stairs and to the room selected for her, draping her across the soft fabric of her comforter. He shackles a wrist to the headboard before covering her with a throw and leaving her alone. He does not bother checking the room for anything that she could use to get free. Spike is very adept in keeping captives.
Descending the stairs, he catches a glimpse of Dru sinking to her knees between Spike's legs. It is an interesting development, considering how the blond has been distant toward her since his injuries. Angelus sits, halfway down the stair to enjoy the view. Spike is definitely recovering if his erection is anything by which to judge.
~~~*~~~
"You're getting better."
Spike stops his wheelchair and glances over his too-angular shoulder at his sire.
"Yeah, what of it?" He has been in the chair for months and Angelus has done nothing to speed his healing. His interest in him now seems suspect.
"Well," he says as he saunters down the stairs and to the blond, "I planned to reward you tonight.for the idea." Spike's eyes narrow. "About Willow."
Leaning back, Spike is suddenly interested, not trusting, but wondering what game this will turn out to be.
"A reward," he repeats flatly, not asking for an explanation, which he knows Angelus is waiting for him to do, and not expecting one. He could live another hundred years without knowing what his sire means, and intends to before giving into his own curiosity.
But today is not a day of games for the older vampire. He has a goal.
"Yes. Blood. Mine." When Spike still does not seems impressed, he adds, "Now."
The bobbing of the prominent Adams Apple as his childe swallows reflexively is indication enough. Angelus chuckles and leans over, kissing his youngest deeply before extracting him from his former mode of transportation and carrying him upstairs.
"My room."
Spike hears this and knows that several things are about to change for him over the next few hours. He won't ever again need that monstrous, wheeled reminder of his failures and yet he will not be the sole master of his destiny as well. Angelus will lay claim to his blood, body and demon once again and he will belong.to him.
From memory he knows this is not such a bad position to be in, but he has his doubts all the same. They won't interfere with Angelus' intentions, nothing ever does, but he will hold on to them, just in case.
He is laid out on the soft silks that cover the brunette's bed and has the unbidden urge to feel the material against his naked flesh.
Angelus is watching him caress the linens as he disrobes and Spike glances up at him sheepishly. "Feels good.." the blond purrs. "You'll feel better."
~~~*~~~
Cotton mouth. She has heard of this and wonders if she has gotten high accidentally somehow. She opens her eyes and focuses on her surrounds, immediately remembering the events in her bedroom.
And this is not it.her bedroom.
Sitting up is awkward, not because she is uncoordinated, although there are days when she would do better to say in bed, but because she is shacked to the headboard by a wrist.
"This is not of the good," she whispers to herself as the throw cover slips down to her waist.
The room is well appointed, but devoid of anything that makes it homey. On the bed table and within reach is a small plastic pitcher of water and a matching cup. She pours and drinks quickly, not understanding her thirst. Her mind is on other things.
Angelus.
He bit her. She remembers that clearly and her hand goes to her neck to feel the injured flesh. It is sore to the touch and she is certain she'll scar. But isn't that the point. They bite to feed and kill, of course, but to mark something as theirs as well. She is keenly displeased with the idea of belonging to Angelus. Nothing about this can be considered acceptable.
She looks around the room for anything she can use to help her escape. Nothing is within her limited reach and even those out of reach only offer the escape of death; a shard of glass from the mirror to slice her own wrists. The concept is interesting, but too defeatist for her liking.
She would rather survive.
With nothing to do but think about what her fate may be, she decides on another form of escape and lays down to find sleep.
~Part: 3~
He is finally asleep. Angelus watches his youngest childe rest as he considers his plans. Very soon Spike will not be the youngest in his clan. Willow will fill that role nicely. A smile creeps over the vampire's face as he imagines the arguments between these two.
Slowly, he extracts himself from the blond. Angelus does not want him to rise any time soon; he needs the sleep to complete his healing. When Spike awakens next, he will be walking on his own. It will be several days before he is ready to hunt alone, and perhaps a week after that to regain full, fighting strength. And the brunette cannot describe how delighted he is about this.
The soft knock on the door pulls him from his thoughts. He pads naked to the door, opening it quickly. He knows who is on the other side.
Drusilla looks up at him, wearing a tiny smile that he still cannot read, before letting her eyes fall to Spike.
"You've done it, then? Made him perfect again?" she asks. Her eyes are wide with wonder and delight.
"Yes, Dru," he says patiently, kissing her on the forehead. "Your Prince is all better."
Clapping her hands, she squeals quietly, pulling Angelus to her mouth for a real kiss, boldly exploring him. He can't help the tightening in his balls.
"Good Daddy," she tells him after tearing away, her finger touching the tip of his nose affectionately. "Can I play with him now?"
"No, not yet. He needs to sleep for a while. Let him rest till sunset." He raises an eyebrow, ignoring her pouting.
Her head tilts suddenly as her eyes gleam darkly. "Your new toy is awake, Angel. Can we play with her then? It's very long until sunset and I may get into trouble on my own."
Her meaning is clear to him. She is the rotten apple of his eye. "Let's introduce you to her first."
Waiting by the door, she sings softly to herself while he dresses. But she is listening to the lone heartbeat in the house. Sometimes minions bring living dinner home, but today the only thing alive in the mansion is Willow.
Angelus takes Drusilla's hand and crosses the hall. He opens the door, amused as the small redhead scoots back until up against the headboard.
"Sleep well, Willow?"
She doesn't answer him. Her eyes are darting between him and the raven beauty. Drusilla steps closer, unmindful of her fear.
"She's perfect, my Angel. Just what I wanted." And then she's off spinning while Willow looks on, aghast.
He chuckles when she stops suddenly, facing him, eyes wild. "Can we do it now?"
"Without Spike?"
She turns this over in her mind, thinking in triangles and jagged lines, but relents. "When he wakes, then?"
"Yeah, baby."
"Uh.not to be all Nosey-Nelly, but what are you planning on doing when Spike wakes up? Because letting me go would be a very nice thing to do."
Her curiosity overrides her fear for a moment, but it returns full force when eyes that shine too brightly and have no depth penetrate hers. "I mean nice in the really evil way, you know, like ohhh I'm a terrible vamp and I'm letting her go...like that." She nibbles on her bottom lip, understanding that she has gone completely around the bend.
"Willow." Once he is certain he has her attention, he continues. "Have you met Drusilla?" She shakes her head, perplexed. Their behavior is bizarre at best, menacing usually.
The lithe demon places a knee on the bed as she reaches out with pale fingers to caress the frightened girl's cheek. It is not soothing or comforting, but experimental. She wants to remember what she feels like before the turning.
Tears slip from huge green eyes in the silence.
"Her tears are hot," Drusilla observes. "They burn like the water the evil priest tossed at me and Spike in Copenhagen. Do you remember Copenhagen, Angel?" Her thoughts are wondering, but her hands keep to the mission, so Willow remains very still.
Angelus is watching closely. His childe is unpredictable and could attempt to deliver a killing strike at any second. Her mind bends corners and sees what awaits.
"Yeah, Dru, I remember."
To Willow, he appears relaxed and pleased as he leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his impressive chest.
"We found that dog there. And Spike carried it back to the townhouse. Darla was very cross and vowed to choke it, but Spike kept it with him always. You remember?" She leans over Willow, taking in scents and sounds. A whimper is her reward.
"Yeah.What about it?" He is up from the wall, a little more attentive and less amused.
"Spike took the puppy for walks and with him hunting. And he left me alone. I had to hunt with Grandmummy. She was in the mood for society virgins and those were very rare..."
"Dru," he called to her, the barest hint of a growl in his voice.
Dark hair swings around as she turns, shimmering in the light, and she looks at him lucidly. "He got busy with the puppy, so I killed it and fed it to the minions. You won't get busy, will you, my Angel?"
Angelus smiles, shaking his head, as a rush of odd pride flows through him.
~Part: 4~
She has been dreaming. In it she has the vague impression that she is being rescued. Odd that she needs rescuing since she is sitting in class, but she goes with it, as she does most things in life.
Her teacher asks a question and she is fumbling for the answer. She knows it, but for some reason she cannot get it out. A voice behind her, calm and melodic, provides the correct response, getting her off the hook for the moment, but she is called on again and again, and the answers continually elude her lips if not her mind.
She never actually sees her scholarly savior; he is shrouded in shadows and just beyond the corner of her vision when she tries to look directly. It is exasperating and in a futile attempt to steal a decent glimpse, she snaps her head around quickly only to find herself face to face with...
Drusilla lays very still, watching Angel's pet sleep, humming to the beat of her heart, dancing without moving. Dark, enchanting eyes implore to be let into the human's mind and in this unguarded state, Willow's magick fails her.
Drusilla gets inside. It is right now that the vampire feels closer to the girl. She tours the young mind, snagging secrets with long fingers as she meanders through the garden of Willow's subconscious.
The girl's eyes pop open suddenly as if she is dipped in ice, and she inhales deeply, skittering away from the vampire laying nearly nose to nose with her.
Drusilla smiles and sits up. "She's awake, my Angel," she calls over her shoulder, her hair bouncing gaily. "I've made a bouquet from your garden of desires, little Willow. Which shall we smell first?"
Green eyes dart between the door and the vampire. She only knows the brunette as Spike's crazy girlfriend that Angelus turned over 140 years ago. She knows the stories Buffy told her about Spike trading all the people in that cellar for her life and remembers that she tortured Angel before he lost his soul. So despite the helpless little girl act, Willow is most wary of the brunette that smiles too sweetly.
Seconds tick by and Angelus does not come. Instead, a bleached blond snakes around the corner and leans in the door frame, his bare, well-muscled arms crossed over his equally well-muscled chest. She is hit with a feeling of vertigo. That he is awake only means that the demons are that much closer to doing whatever it is they plan to do.
"Angelus is out, Dru. Checking on what the good guys are up to, I'd wager," he says as he steps inside the room. Drusilla makes space for him on the bed near her and he sits, bringing a hand up to push a stray lock of red hair back behind Willow's ear. She leans away from his touch, refraining from smacking his hand.
"So this is Willow," he says, his voice deep and nearly comforting...nearly. "I've seen you around, watched you, followed you."
She shakes her head. "No...You can't walk."
"Yes, I can. Funny that. Sire's blood is remarkable when a vamp needs healing. Nothing better, except maybe slayer's blood," he nods with a smile, and Willow doesn't miss his meaning. "Couldn't figure out why I didn't want to kill you. But Dru here, she's made it very clear. It wasn't time, pet."
In Willow's mind, the situation is getting out of control. She refuses to accept that she has no control over her fate any longer, so she speaks as if she does, as if she won't be dying soon.
"Okay, you two are creeping me out just a little more than what's funny. Now I realized that you guys are angry at us... you know, about the Judge and all, and sorry about your present Drusilla, but he was burning people up... so not that nice. And it was Buffy's rocket launcher. Really, I only picked up pieces. Icky blue chunks..."
"She's adorable, Spike, don't you think?"
He smiles at the dark haired girl. "Positively, pet. It's why I picked her."
Willow's eyes narrow, remembering Angelus laughingly suggesting that she thank Spike.
"This was your idea?" she seethes.
"Well, I can't take all the credit. Dru here told us about what you would do. You and the gypsy. I just couldn't see wasting your death."
The door slams and they all turn to look toward the sound.
Spike grins, showing too many teeth, and winks at her. "Daddy's home."
~Part: 5~
It's dark when he comes inside, and though it poses no problem for him, he still turns on a lamp in the main room. The door slams shut behind him and resounds sharply in the silence. Most minions are still out or already asleep as dawn is only a few hours away. He makes his way through the mansion, following scents and sounds that he has known and missed for over a century. A torrent of unsatisfied fury hits him as he climbs the stairs. But for a stupid gypsy and her family's curse he would never have been separated from his.
And the vile clan of pagans is trying to do it again.
He reaches the top stair and ambles to the place he has quickly come to call Willow's. The vision inside the room makes him stop.
Spike is upright, on his knees, yet sloping over the curved line of Drusilla's back as he thrusts inside her. She mewls beneath her prince while remaining perched over the human, her arms braced on either side of the Willow's head. Tears fall from the green eyes as Drusilla plants delicate kisses on quivering lips.
They don't acknowledge his presence, but Angelus understands that this is for his entertainment.
"Pretty flowers..." The brunette says between kisses. "Just the petals now, pet. Soon we'll find the roots."
Angelus watches as the words seems to bring a flood of fresh tears from the human, and he wonders what Drusilla's latched onto now. Whatever it is, she is hitting a nerve with the girl.
"I see you two couldn't wait for me," he scolds his childer while stepping closer.
"Waited a century for you, Daddy. Time to catch up." This is Drusilla's way of telling him to fuck off.
He chuckles and gets down on his knees at the side of the bed, resting his elbows on the mattress. Willow turns to him, the plea in her eyes unmistakable, as if he will save her.
With him near, she grows bolder. Angelus has a plan for her and will not allow them to hurt her, she hopes. Fueled by fear and anger, she pushes at Drusilla, her human hands and strength not enough to disturb the vampire who is luxuriating in the pleasures of Spike's cock.
"Our kitten likes kittens," Dru pants. "It's all here," she says, placing a kiss on the warm flesh over Willow's heart. "Buried deep inside her garden."
More tears spill as Willow squeezes her eyes shut. No one knows, she never talks about it, has never even had an exploratory conversation with Xander to feel out what he thinks of the subject. She is falling in love with Oz. She is not gay. Yet she finds herself staring too long at a few girls in her P.E. class and she cannot continue to ignore the tiny tingles this brings her.
That Drusilla knows this, is telling this to Spike and Angelus.she cringes as her former friend touches her face with cool, gentle hands.
"Why are you so upset, Willow? This is nothing. You belong to me now. I will have you in every way imaginable and some I'm sure you can't. I will possess your every thought and dream.We will possess you. You are family."
It is enough to make her fight and she lashes out at the two above her, violent cries pouring from her mouth. Her face is a mask of rage, marring her elfish features and turning her into something twisted and unbecoming.
Her determination, not her force, takes them by surprise and, intrigued, Spike and Drusilla give her the freedom she desperately seeks. Scrambling from the bed, she races for the door, but is blocked before she gets close by the blonde.
"Not getting out, Red. Not alive," he tells her, his eyes full of mirth and death.
"Fuck you, Spike! I don't belong here. I'm not your stupid family. YOU KILL ME NOW OR LET ME GO!" She lunges for Spike and the door, but Drusilla steps between them and she freezes in her tracks.
Spike grins over his princess's shoulder and the redhead backs herself into a corner as Drusilla stalks her. "Pretty Willow, we'll take your light and snuff it out soon enough, place a beautiful darkness there. Then you'll be happy again. Then you'll be perfect."
"Let me go! Let me go! LET ME GO!" She screams and Angelus intervenes.
"All right, Spike, take Drusilla to your room. I'll explain how things work around here to our newest."
The blonde grabs his princess and pulls her to his body hard, taking her lips in a deep kiss before tearing away.
"Come on then, luv. Let Angelus train her properly," he says, winking at Willow again.
As they leave the room, Drusilla glances back at the human. "I like the color red. It makes me hungry." Her eyes flash golden yellow and then settle to a glossy hazel. "Daddy doesn't like yelling, pet. What color will your pain be? "
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