Title: Fallen Angels: Walking With The Dead (#18)
Author: Anastasia (charlie1@acay.com.au)
Rating: NC~17
Disclaimer: I don't own them...Joss and Co. do. Sad really.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated.
Notes: For the person who knows the secret of the broken toe and all those suffering from 'suckage', because I have no idea how to offer comfort.
 
               ***
 
It must have been a dream, Angelus sitting in the chair, watching her.  Had to be, he didn't move, didn't blink, just sat there, silent and ominous.  A surreal phantasm of her mind, Willow was certain of that as her eyes once more felt heavy, she sighed and blinked a few times.  The dream sat there, staring her down, not moving as she relaxed back against Spike's spooned form, and her eyes began to flutter shut.  Then the dream moved, extracting itself from the corner, to stand beside the bed, and a single finger was placed against her trembling lips for silence.
 
Wide awake, Willow couldn't help but gasp under the pressure of his finger, flinching back against Spike, causing the blond to growl and tighten his hold even more.  Never taking his gaze from her, Angelus reached out, long fingers dragging over his childe's face, dropping down to wrap about the throat, squeezing as his thumb caressed the sharp jawline. Spike released his hold on Willow and batted at his sire's hand, partially waking up.
 
"Sod off," Spike mumbled in his typical post-sleep grumps, partially cracking open one eye to focus on his sire.  Further protests were cut short as Angelus leant down, lips pressing firmly against the blond's, his tongue teasing them open and exploring his childe's mouth.  Sighing into the kiss, Spike didn't even notice the loss of Willow's warmth as his sire quietly inched her away from the broken embrace and the bed, forcing her to stand on shaky legs.  Breaking the kiss, Angelus stood, his fingers moving up to ruffle the blond hair even more.
 
"Go back to sleep," he murmured, his fingers once more tracing the sharp contours of the blond.
 
"Exactly what I was doing you bleedin' poof," Spike grumbled, turning over onto his stomach and burying his face in the comfort of the pillow.  "So go 'way."
 
Tilting his head, Angelus' gaze dropped back to Willow, his fingers tightening their already firm grip on her upper arm, holding her steady.  Without a word he moved away from the bed, practically dragging Willow along, never pausing in his movement until he reached the shower.  Even then, his fingers still bit into her flesh as he reached in and turned on the spray, shoving her in and breaking his hold to turn away.  The solitude of the shower was only brief, his leather pants were tossed aside and he stepped in under the spray, causing Willow to slam back against the wall in an act based purely on fear.  The action only served to bring a smile to her nightmare's lips before he reached out and pulled her to him, under the warmth of the water.
 
"You don't ever let the slayer have the last word," he stated, leaning forward and reaching over her to grab a sponge and soap.
 
"What?" asked Willow, dumbfounded.  Her hands were suddenly filled with the items and all she could do was stare at Angelus, her forehead wrinkling in confusion, as she tried to comprehend what he had said.  Shaking her head in disbelief, she automatically started to go about their bathing routine, soaping up the sponge and attending to the dark-haired vampire looming over her.
 
"The slayer never has the last word.  Don't give her the illusion that you obey her," he caught her chin, halting her movements as he tilted her head back to look her in the eye. "And that's all it is Willow, an illusion.  She thinks she sent you running from the library this afternoon ~ of course we both know she didn't.  You left of your own accord because you didn't want to be there.  Never let her tell you what to do and never, ever let her have the last word.  I don't give a damn if you hit her, or say the most puerile thing and then walk away, but you don't let the smug little bitch talk you down or tell you what to do.  She is nothing in my world other than a parasite, an annoying inconvenience that is tolerated...whereas you walk with me, so she has no right to presume to be able to tell you what to do.  Next time, handle it better.  Do you understand?"
 
Willow nodded and he released her chin, his hands covering hers, urging her on.
 
"Now, when my door is shut you don't open it.  You don't want to see what's hidden away here," Angelus smirked as she dropped her head.  "Don't worry darlin', when it's all said and done, I'll come for you."
 
Willow kept her eyes fixed on his chest, watching the play of the water over his torso, washing away the soap she had covered both of them in.  Biting her bottom lip she continued to wash him, her fingers playing across his flesh, noting the scratches and bite marks that were practically healed.  Slowly, hesitantly she asked the question that had occupied her mind since she walked into the mansion that afternoon.
 
"So, you don't mind that I came home?"
 
"No," he spoke softly, his arms slipping about her waist to pull her in close.  "You missed a few classes but you'll soon make those up. There was no real need for you to be there anyway."
 
Willow frowned, and wondered about that.  There was no doubt in her mind that Giles would be successful in his frantic search for information regarding the demons Buffy had encountered, with or without her help ~ he'd done it before, he'd do it again.  Sighing, she shook her head, dispelling her own melancholy thoughts and turned her attention back to the task at hand. For once she appreciated the familiarity of the action of washing him, cleansing him, this afternoon's incident already forgotten, tranquility found in his arms as the water cascaded over them.  She could have been quite content to stay there for the rest of the evening.  Of course she knew she couldn't.  Her task done, she leant against his chest, her fingers absently tracing the faint outline of a long scratch running along his upper arm.
 
"Are we really going to LA tonight?"
 
"Yes," he smiled down at her, his fingers caressing the gold choker briefly before moving on to push her wet hair back over her shoulder, baring her neck for his fingers to play with.  "What do you feel like for dinner?"
 
"I don't know," Willow shrugged non-committally, tilting her head to one side and subconsciously baring her throat even more.  It was an invitation he didn't deny, leaning down to torment the wet flesh with his tongue before dropping his mouth down to bite teasingly at her shoulder.  Her fingers moved to tangle in his sopping wet hair and she sighed.  "I'm starving though."
 
"We can decide when we get there, then," he released his hold on her, stretched under the warm water, and scrubbed at his wet hair.  Reaching out, he shut down the shower, turned his back to her and pushed open the door.  "Can't have you dying of starvation when there are so many wonderful restaurants about."
 
Stepping out, he grabbed a towel, rubbing at his hair, drying it enough to make it go all spiky.  Silently, he offered her another towel and she joined him, wrapping herself up and wringing the water from her hair.
 
"By the way," he finished drying off, carelessly tossing the towel onto one of the chairs near the shower.  "The demons the Slayer is so terribly worried about...they're Barckham's. It's their mating season and she got between two mates.  Tomorrow, when the Watcher is so desperate for your help, you'll find that very information in the Velzum Chronicles and the old man can puff up with pride over your apt research skills."
 
Smirking, he turned and sauntered back to his room, pausing at the door to look back at her.  "Wake Spike, tell him he's got half an hour to get ready."
 
With that he turned and disappeared into his room, leaving Willow alone.  Pulling the towel tighter about herself, she strolled to her door, glancing over her shoulder to steal a quick peek of Angelus as he started to dress.  His back was turned and she watched for a moment before dragging her eyes away from him to focus on his bed, the sheets were tattered and stained with blood, hanging in rags.  Turning sharply, she stepped into her room and shook her head at the thought of trying to wake the blond laying before her on his stomach, spread eagle across the rumpled sheets, dead to the world.
 
True to Angelus' word they headed down to LA.  Dinner was taken in an elaborate setting and within an hour of finishing her meal, Willow once more found herself alone in Spike's company standing in the car lot while Angelus disappeared into the interior of the Mercedes dealership office.
 
"I don't understand it," Willow stated as they leant against the Desoto, waiting for the new Mercedes to be brought around.
 
"Understand what pet?"  asked Spike, amusing himself by blowing smoke rings.
 
"Well, if Angelus wanted a car, why go to so much trouble and expense?" Willow asked, frowning as Spike cocked an eyebrow.  "I mean couldn't he just find some guy whose car he fancies and...you know...grrrr."
 
"Grrr?  You mean rip the sod's throat out and take the car?" Spike laughed as she cringed at the detailed description of the very thing she had suggested.  Taking a deep drag on his cigarette, he shook his head, a look of disappoint marring his features.  "I would have thought you'd figured it out by now."
 
Willow frowned, there was something to figure out?  "Umm, what?"
 
"Angel's a snob. Always has been, always will be," Spike stated, tossing aside his cigarette butt as the attendant pulled up in a sleek convertible with the top down.  Smirking, he shook his head.  "Black, such an original color. Don't you think, pet?"
 
"A snob?" asked Willow as Spike pushed away from the Desoto, swaggering over to inspect the new car.
 
"Yeah, hoity-toity," Spike twirled his hand about in the air as he took the keys from the attendant and plonked down in the drivers seat.  "Has to have the best of everything and certainly doesn't settle for someone else's seconds or hand me downs."  His fingers admiringly ran over the dashboard before wrapping about the steering wheel.
"Well, this is a neat little package."
 
"Spike," Angelus called, striding over to them, leather document case in hand.  "Get out of my car."
 
"Don't I get to take her for a spin then?"
 
"Not tonight," Angelus curtly dismissed the blond and held out his hand for Willow.  Scowl on his face, Spike relinquished his seat as Angelus' fingers curled around Willow's.  "Entertain yourself, we'll see you back at the mansion later on."
 
"Oh joy," was Spike's impassive reply as he eyed the couple, only to have his view blocked by the attendant scurrying back.  Smirking he moved behind the young uniformed man and let his face morph into the demon.  "Good night for some blood sports."
 
Chuckling Angelus shook his head in denial at the blond and the demon faded, the scowl returning.  Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Spike patted down his duster, trying to locate his pack of cigarettes.  It proved futile and the attendant hovering about caught his attention.
 
"What do you want?" Spike spat.
 
"There's this," stuttered the young man, thrusting a magnum of Moet towards the blond. "For the owner."
 
"That'd be him," he snarled, jerking his head in the general direction of Angelus and Willow, attracting his sire's attention.  Behind the attendant's back Spike blew a kiss to the two, causing Willow to giggle and blow one back.  Clasping his heart and staggering backwards, he gave a half smirk and twirled about, heading back to his car.
 
"Champagne?" Angelus questioned as he held open the passenger door for Willow, his hand guiding her into the seat, carefully closing the door.  The Desoto roared to life and he watched, smirking, as Spike hightailed it out of the lot.
 
"Yes, sir," confirmed the attendant, carefully placing the bottle and two champagne flutes in the small section behind the seats.  "Compliments of the dealership."
 
"Wonderful," drawled Angelus, striding over to take his own seat.  He'd already drunk, compliments of the dealership, but he'd never say no to a bottle of Moet.  With typical male excitement, he turned the motor over, smiling at the perfect purr of German engineering, put the car in gear and exited the lot.  Even before they reached the freeway, the motor had been gunned and the car roared through the streets of LA, passing others in a blur of color and sound.
 
And Willow was wishing she had died of starvation.  Or at least hadn't eaten quite so much at dinner.
 
Her stomach churned even more as Angelus ignored the convenience of the freeway and headed up the old coastal highway.  This road, with its twists and turns, had long since been abandoned by most for the freeway with its multi-laned directness.  However, tonight it was obvious that he was in the mood for speed and sharp turns, and the old highway was ideal.  With every passing mile, every twist and turn, the speed seemed to increase until Willow was certain that the next corner would see them hurtling off the road and dying in mass of twisted metal.  Then things got worse.
 
"Oh god," muttered Willow through clenched teeth as the most notorious turn on the old road came into view.  It was one of those hairpin turns that some over-confident jock from school always thought he could handle, not a year went by that it didn't cause some major grief to one of the sporting teams in the town.  For once, in her very short life, she wished she was in a car with Spike instead.
 
The squealing of the tires and the raucous roar of the motor was all she could hear as she scrunched her eyes shut and gripped the seat. The world spun and she simply knew she was going to die.  Suddenly, there was absolutely nothing, a moment of pure silence where everything stopped.  Then she heard it, the soft humming of the engine and Angelus chuckling.  Cautiously she cracked open an eye, expecting to see a bright light at the end of a dark tunnel.  Instead she was still in the car with Angelus laughing at her.
 
"Don't you trust me, Willow?" he asked, stretching out a hand to stroke her hair.
 
Wildly she glanced about the darkened road, the car's headlights and the illumination of Sunnydale below them casting an eerie glow.  They'd made the turn, she wasn't dead, the car wasn't a wreck and she could start breathing again.
 
"I don't think I can move," she whimpered, quite sure that if he demanded she get out she couldn't ~ she was well and truly stuck to the seat in sheer fear.  Beside her Angelus laughed even louder and gunned the motor, heading into town.
 
"We'll go for a walk and have some champers, darlin'," he stated, giving her knee a squeeze to attract her attention.  "Willow?"
 
"Hmm?" she asked, still taking gulping deep breaths.
 
"Let go of the seat, you're going to shred it."
 
"Okay," she whimpered, releasing her death grip on the seat. Chuckling Angelus caught her hand and brought it up to his lips, caressing the tense fingers, before dropping it down to his thigh and covering it with his own hand.
 
By the time they pulled up in one of the biggest cemeteries in Sunnydale, parking the car on a grass verge in the heart of the graveyard, Willow had her breathing under control.  Still, she was relieved that Angelus, for all intents and purposes, was a gentleman, offering his hand to pull her out of the car.  She wouldn't have been able to stand by herself, her legs still quivering like jelly after their drive back to town.  Grabbing the champagne and glasses he started to lead her through the maze of graves.
 
"I've been thinking," stated Angelus as he led her deeper into the jumble of graves, some were older than the town, others still had freshly turned earth.
 
"About what?" Willow was hesitant to ask.
 
"Your little adventure in the library this afternoon," he spoke quietly, releasing her hand and passing her the glasses.  With simplistic ease he popped the cork from the bottle and the champagne, since it was as shaken as Willow, exploded forth.  Haphazardly he filled the glasses with the froth.  "Tomorrow you should spend some quality time with the Slayer ~ do some bonding."
 
"Bonding?" asked Willow skeptically.  For the second time that evening she was uncertain of what he was saying.
 
"Yeah, catch up on some girl talk...whatever," Angelus smirked and took a glass from her. " I don't want to deprive the Slayer of valuable time with her best friend."
 
"Oh," said Willow, unsure of exactly what to make of his train of thought, especially since his voice was dripping with sarcastic concern for Buffy.  "Okay then."
 
"Good.  What shall we toast?" he asked, watching her over the top of his glass.
 
"Mercedes for having tires that grip," replied Willow flippantly.  Angelus smiled and raised his glass in salute.
 
"To Mercedes," he offered, tapping his glass against hers and sipping the wine.  Willow, on the other hand, gulped hers down, only to have Angelus immediately top it up again.  "What else?"
 
"I don't know..." Willow frowned, staring at her glass as Angelus looped her free hand through the crook of his elbow and began to walk her amongst the graves.  "Are you meant to make a toast for every glass?"
 
"We shall tonight," he replied, walking slowly, keeping their bodies close. "So what else?"
 
"Umm, complimentary bottles of champagne," offered Willow, struggling for ideas.
 
"To free champagne," Angelus shook his head and smirked, again tapping his glass against Willow's. They matched each other, one sip for Angelus, one glassful for Willow.  The glasses were refilled and the demand made for another toast as they continued their strolling. By the time the need for toasts ran out they were lost amongst the tangle of graves.
 
"Uh oh, no more," Angelus stated, turning the bottle upside down and shaking it.  Pouting, Willow tilted her head back to look up at him, perched on a grave, and stumbled backwards.  Angelus' hand shot out and grabbed her before she could fall and hurt herself.  He grinned as she giggled.  "I think you're drunk."
 
"Nah uh," Willow shook her head and smothered another giggle with her hand.  She wriggled her way out of his grasp, twirling her champagne flute between long fingers as she strolled along, wavering and stumbling slightly.  "Just tipsy."
 
"Why don't you walk on the graves?" asked Angelus doing exactly that as he walked idly beside her, stepping from one grave to the next.  Willow paused in her wandering and turned to look at him, childish seriousness gracing her features.
 
"It's disrespectful," it was almost a whisper, as if she were being impolite by merely talking about it.  Angelus grinned and squatted down on the high grave so he could look her in the eye.  Motioning with his hand, he beckoned her to come closer.
 
"How the hell can it be disrespectful?  They're dead," he smirked as her eyes widened, only serving to enhance the childlike quality of her expression.  "Do you think they'll reach up from their graves and wag a finger at you?"
 
"Well, no," Willow giggled as Angelus proceeded to do exactly that. Capturing his finger, she stumbled slightly before returning to her previous demeanor.  "But it's wrong."
 
"Wrong?  Why?" he watched in amusement as she puzzled over that question, still holding on tight to his finger.
 
"Because they're dead...you can't walk on them...it's wrong..." she repeated, holding his gaze.  The only answer she got was a shake of his imprisoned finger.  "Oh, I don't know.  People tell you it's wrong so you don't do it.  I don't understand why it's wrong...I mean it's nothing more than dust, right?  You'd think we'd be more concerned with walking on things that are living.  Although spiders and frogs...people should stomp those things to death...they're evil, don't deserve to be here.  Yep..."
 
Her drunken ramble was cut short as Angelus jerked his finger free and easily pulled her up onto the grave with one arm.
 
"The view isn't any better from up here," stated Willow, poking the dark haired vampire in the chest with a finger, causing him to chuckle.  She frowned and pushed away from him, only being saved from falling off the grave by his arm still wrapped about her waist.  "You laugh too much."
 
"You don't laugh enough," Angelus retorted.  Willow rolled her eyes and brought her hand up, to accentuate a point, when the champagne flute it held caught her attention.  Looping her free arm about Angelus' neck, she tapped him on the chest with it.
 
"I've forgotten what I was going to say, but I know it was witty so you can laugh if you like," she smiled and dissolved into a fit of giggles.  Once more the glass caught her attention and she frowned.  "What are we going to do with these?  I don't want to carry it round all night."
 
"Let's play ball," purred Angelus against her ear, nipping it and causing her to giggle again before he pulled away from her.  "Batter up!"
 
"What?" giggled Willow, turning to shake her head at him.
 
"Throw it," he urged, jerking his head toward a mausoleum a few yards away.
 
"You can't do that!" insisted Willow, rolling her eyes at his inability to understand the very absurdity and impropriety of the act he had suggested.  Smirking he turned her about, took her hands in his and made her throw the glass.  With his unnatural strength it hit the solid wall and shattered, glass shards bouncing and scattering amongst the grass.  Willow stood for a moment in stunned silence, her mouth wide open.  "Ooh, that's...wrong.  But then...it was kind of...fun."
 
She turned and grabbed his glass, stumbling slightly as she turned away, his hands on her waist ensuring she stayed upright.  Concentrating, she drew her arm back and hurled the glass.  The effect was similar, but less intense than the first glass, and she pouted, stamping her foot.
 
"No fair, it didn't go big bang," she gestured wildly with her hands causing Angelus to chuckle behind her.  "Great, laughter again."
 
"Here," he handed her the magnum and wrapped his hands about hers, pausing to look down at her. "Ready?"
 
Scrunching up her nose and grinning, she nodded.  With ease, he pulled back and then launched the bottle, sending it crashing into the wall, shards of glass flying back and scattering across the grave they were on.  Squealing in delight, Willow was spun in his arms, his body protecting her from the flying glass and she twisted her fists in his shirt, giggling against his chest.
 
"Oh, we are so bad," she giggled, looking up at the smirking vampire and untangling herself from his shirt.
 
"The absolute worst," agreed Angelus, gracefully jumping down from the grave and grabbing her, causing her to overbalance and fall into his arms.  Sighing she snuck her arm about his neck and rested her head against his shoulder.  Slowly, deliberately, he began to spin them.
 
"Everything's spinning," she laughed, lifting her head from his shoulder and leaning back against his arm. Closing her eyes she held out her free arm, fingers spanning to catch the breeze as they continued to spin.  Or rather, she did, even as her feet hit the ground and Angelus caught her lips.  Without hesitating she eagerly opened her mouth, anticipating the entrance of his cool tongue and sighing into the kiss.  She gave as much as he demanded, more than was necessary, and her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling the dark silky locks.
 
Suddenly the world was spinning and she was falling, her landing cushioned by Angelus' arms as he laid her back against a grave. Giving her a wicked grin, he lowered his head to her breasts, sucking the fine material of her shirt, saturating it with saliva.  She gasped at the sensation, the buzz of the champagne still with her, at once heightening and dulling her senses.  Keeping one hand tangled in his hair, the other wandered down over the flexing muscles in his back as he moved to open her blouse. Arching up into his touch she glanced about the area they were in.  It was familiar.
 
Trees that were somehow significant, although never seen before at night, a pathway often walked.  Frowning, Willow tried to focus on her surroundings, recognition flashing through her mind, she'd been here before.  Angelus' fingers pressed against her damp panties as his mouth continued its assault on her now bared breasts, she moaned and rolled her head back. Through half-closed eyes she caught a glimpse of the headstone of the grave they were on.  It was an empty grave, there merely to offer comfort to parents who had lost their child, a place for friends to come and pay their respects to the dearly departed, a pile of ashes.  It was Jesse's grave.  With a shuddering moan Willow closed herself off to everything except the sensations that Angelus was creating.

 

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