~~~

Duex

The reflection was slightly different this time, Willow was looking
more like a schoolgirl. The make up was gone, she'd washed it off in
the bathroom, but she still wore the jewelry and the gown. Wearily,
she began to take down her hair, fiddling and pulling out each of the
little pins. Angelus had disappeared into the bathroom soon after
she'd sat down. She'd watched as he'd paced like some caged animal,
tearing at his cravat and flinging the detested item away, then he'd
disappeared into the bathroom without a word and the shower had
started. Was still going as she pulled out pin after pin, her hair
falling about her shoulders in a cascade of waves. The little pins
sat on the hand mirror, discarded, no longer needed, and Willow
spotted her choker. Hesitantly, she reached out, her fingertips
running across the various links of gold that made up the knotwork.
It was this side of the gold that rested against her skin. In those
first few weeks the weight of choker use to be oppressing, a
humiliating reminder of what she was. But then it had become
something more, almost a comfort, a reassurance that she belonged,
that she was someone of importance and now…

Willow once more glanced at her reflection, now she wasn't so certain
of what the choker represented, or even what she was to Angelus.
There was a strange feeling of abandonment, like a child who'd grown
weary of a new toy, only she was the toy, had always been the
vampire's toy. He hadn't touched her, not since they'd left
Sunnydale together on the plane, not once. Nor had he made any
demands of her. In fact, he barely spoke to her and the brief
conversations he did engage her in were nonsensical. Rather like the
one in the car on the way back to the house ~ there had been no
lascivious intent behind the ravishment question, it was asked purely
for the purpose of making her blush.

Once more Willow caressed the heavy gold of her choker, it was an
important part of her life and though she hated to admit it, so was
Angelus. Especially now, she had no family, her parents were dead
and her friends . . . well, her friends were no longer what she'd
thought them to be. Her fingers left the heavy knotwork of gold to
rub at her temples, there was increasing pain and her head felt as if
it would split open at any moment. Her life, her situation was too
precarious at the moment and her thoughts were making her feel sick.
It had been a long day and an even longer night, all she wanted to do
was tumble into bed and sleep forever. But to do that she had to
finish removing the elaborate accessories she'd been dressed up in
and so, with a jaded sigh, she returned to the task of removing the
jewelry. Carefully, she unhooked the heavy, ornate earrings and
placed them back in their box. The only piece of jewelry left was
the elaborate necklace and she knew that it would be impossible to
get off by herself, once more she was relying on Angelus to come to
her rescue.

That was the chaos of her life, she was reliant on Angelus and in so
many more ways than she was willing to admit, especially to herself.
Willow glanced down at the scattered mess of hairpins, they reflected
the chaos of her life, disordered, strewn about. With a zealous
fury, she started to set them right, gathering them up and laying
them all together. Her fingers swept over the half dozen that were
nestled against the hand mirror and the ornaments tore at the glass
surface, leaving deep, ragged scratches. It was enough to make her
stop her frantic collection of the pins and she picked up the
elaborate mirror, frowning at the scarred glass. Only diamonds could
cut glass, she was well aware of that, which meant that the pins had
to be adorned with real diamonds and she glanced back down at the
numerous hairpins that she'd removed. There were at least two-dozen
and each one carried either diamonds or sapphires. Slowly, she
turned back to the small mirror and her own reflection, Angelus had
dressed her up in jewels that would have cost a small fortune, it
wasn't something you did if you were tiring of a plaything…unless you
were trying to dispose of it.

Willow stared at the little hand mirror, the scratched surface
scarring her reflection, making it abstract, and she swallowed back a
lump of fear. No longer able to stomach the sight of her marred face
or the view over her shoulder that the little mirror held, she
dropped it down only to be confronted by the larger mirror and
Angelus, clearly reflected in it as he stood behind her. There was
nothing she could do but stare at him, taking in every detail from
the wet hair to the black silk pajama bottoms he wore. Even then she
couldn't trust herself, didn't believe what she saw until she dragged
her eyes away from the reflection and turned her head, making certain
that the vampire did indeed stand behind her. Without a word, he
reached over her shoulder and retrieved her choker.

"How?" asked Willow, turning her attention back to the giant mirror
and watching every move he made.

"An illusion," he stated somewhat bitterly, easily slipping off the
elaborate necklace she was wearing. "It's all just an illusion
created by the wonders of the digital age that we're traveling
through."

The choker was fixed in place and he turned his back to her as she
stared at the massive mirror. A mirror that wasn't a mirror, merely
an optical illusion and suddenly she understood what he meant – it
was an artifice, created by digital cameras and some type of surface
that displayed the images they recorded.

"An illusion," she murmured to herself, watching the screen, not even
conscious of the fact that the necklaces had been switched or that he
had left her. There were more pressing matters, such as what else
the digital cameras that projected the image before her were hooked
up to and if they were, then who was watching them. To Willow her
situation had taken on a new and surreal twist, only one of many in
the fantastical circumstances she found herself in. She was slowly
suffocating, her world had disappeared and the replacement was
terrifyingly foreign, a strange city and an even stranger house that
radiated power and wealth. All of it was wrapping about her and
culminating in an utter and unbearable loneliness, a darkness that
was consuming her and in which there was only one familiarity, the
vampire who was walking away from her. Twisting in the chair, she
pushed herself away from the vanity and stood on shaky
legs. "Angelus."

"Mmm," he replied, not even turning to face her and she found herself
speechless. Not that she'd really known what she was going to say to
him, or what she was going to do, she just needed for him to say
something and he hadn't really even done that. She was sweating but
the room was quite cool, as was the night, and she ran her clammy
hands over the lines of her gown as she took a step toward him. Still
there was no acknowledgement of her presence by the vampire and
Willow couldn't move. At her silence, he looked at her over his
shoulder and finally turned to face her. "What?"

"I…" she stared, there was no trace of aggression or annoyance in his
stance nor in the way he spoke to her, there was nothing, he was
aloof, impassive. It was absurd but for a fleeting moment she wanted
nothing more than to be held in his arms and told that she was
precious and most importantly that she was safe with him. She could
even see the scene play out, he'd wrap his arms about her and hold
her tight, the words of affection that he would whisper echoed about
in her mind. Then she crashed back to reality and he was standing on
the other side of the room, watching her, waiting for an answer. "I…
I can't undo my dress…" she murmured, turning her back to him as she
watched him in the mirror and pulled her hair aside to expose the top
of the gown. "Do you think…"

Angelus didn't make a sound as he covered the distance between them,
his feet cushioned on the luxuriant carpet and he never said a word.
As he caught the zip between his thumb and finger, their eyes met and
the zipper was slowly lowered. She couldn't do it, couldn't hold
that dark gaze, there were too many confusing images flashing through
her subconscious. There was pain and pleasure, loathing and
adoration, and it all came back to those dark, unfathomable eyes that
had been part of it all, that had been fixed on her when he'd ordered
Spike to apply the lash.

It was the vivid image of that first stroke of the lash that made
Willow jerk away, and behind her Angelus chuckled, turning away and
leaving her alone again. She watched in the mirror as he sauntered
back to the bed and picked up the cordless phone.

"You look like death warmed up," he stated, walking towards the
double doors and not once looking back at her as he dialed. "Go to
bed, darlin'."

The doors were pulled partially closed behind him, enough to block
her view as he wandered into the shadowy living room, and Willow
glanced back at her reflection only to be greeted by red eyes in a
deathly pale face. Closing her eyes, she turned blindly away,
pulling at the gown and slipping it off, carelessly tossing it into a
chair and her underwear soon followed as she donned the little
chemise and French panties that she'd slept in before. Leaving the
light on, she crawled into the massive bed, pulling the covers up to
her neck as she snuggled against the soft bedding. From her
position, she could just make out Angelus in the other room, his
voice a low rumble that didn't seem to make sense and her eyes
fluttered shut.

Spike...it was spoken with affection. There was no mistaking that as
the name drifted towards her, startling her from sleep. Blinking a
few times, she focused on the burly shape that was Angelus in the
other room, her hand reaching across the bed under the covers as he
continued his conversation. He must have been speaking to the blond
and the name was repeated, tenderly murmured as Willow's eyes once
more fluttered shut. The next time she opened her eyes, she was
greeted by darkness and an unnerving silence. She was tempted to cry
out for Angelus, like a child who had woken in the night, terrified
of the dark, but she flexed her outstretched hand and her fingers
brushed against cool flesh. Slowly, tentatively, she ran her
fingertips across the bare skin and turned her hand over, slipping
her fingers under the curve of his waist, his full weight
reassuringly resting against them. When he didn't move or pull away,
Willow closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Hours passed and she slept soundly, never once stirring as the room
lightened with the approaching day and the weight lifted from her
hand. She was held captive by the blissful ignorance of slumber as
Angelus moved about and he was an unseen shadow that slipped away
long before the growl that woke her sounded. Indeed, the growl
seemed to consume her and Willow whimpered softly. Something was
wrong, was different, there was no reassuring pressure against her
fingers and still half asleep, she stretched her arm out, her hand
roaming across the rumpled bed linen. There was nothing, just the
softest cotton she'd ever felt and she rolled over onto her stomach,
cracking open a sleep encrusted eye to stare at the vast empty space
of the bed in the softly lit room and her stomach growled again.

"Shhh," she admonished, only to have the growl repeated and a painful
cramp of hunger accompany its desperate demand for attention. There
was no escaping it, she was hungry, starving in fact, and once more
abandoned by Angelus. Grimacing, she rolled over again and sat up,
reluctantly pushing away the warm bed linen and crawling out of the
bed. Stifling a yawn, she wandered into the bathroom and went about
seeing to the other demands her body was making, all the time her
stomach growled and grumbled. Still half asleep, she wandered back
out to the bedroom.

"Mademoiselle," the Suit greeted her and Willow jumped a mile,
literally clinging to the doorframe of the bathroom to stop from
falling over. The Suit remained impassive at her small show of
hysteria, his face the perfect picture of boredom. "If you care to
adjourn to the morning room, your breakfast has been laid out."

Reluctant to leave the support of the doorframe, Willow watched as
the young man turned his back to her and headed out towards the main
living area of the suite. There was one thing she was certain of,
she had absolutely no idea where the `morning room' was and a quick
assessment of the crumpled sleepwear proved she was in no fit state
for mixing with anyone. But then her stomach growled and the Suit
disappeared from view, hungry and perturbed she found herself
following him.

The morning room was not, as Willow had feared, outside the suite of
rooms. Instead it was part of a smaller set of rooms situated off the
main living area of the suite and was bathed in the warm morning sun,
which flooded through the full-length windows. The light fell across
a feast that was fit for the gods themselves and it was held on a
squat wicker table with many of the dishes covered by silver domes,
but Willow could still smell the mouthwatering aromas of scrambled
eggs, sausages and any number of culinary delights.

"Waffles," she murmured longingly as she sank down into one of the
well-cushioned wicker chairs, any concerns she had about her
appearance dispersed as the various hot dishes were revealed. Her
eyes fell on the little jugs of a variety of syrups nestled next to
the waffles and she had to wipe her mouth to make sure she wasn't
drooling.

"Will Mademoiselle require a car this afternoon?"

"Huh?" Willow tore her gluttonous eyes away from the food and glanced
up at the perfect picture of perpetual boredom that stood before her
just in time to catch the slight roll of his eyes.

"Monsieur Angelus has requested that a car be at his disposal for
today, and while Mademoiselle is otherwise engaged for this morning,
perhaps she would like to visit the city for a few hours in the
afternoon, before the evening entertainments?"

"I…well, I…what engagement?" There was no mistaking the roll of his
eyes this time and Willow scowled ever so slightly at his abhorred
attitude.

"Final fittings, I believe they are scheduled for eleven."

"Eleven?" Willow's brow furrowed. "And what time is it now?"

"Half ten. The car, mademoiselle," he repeated. "Will you require
it for this afternoon?"

"Err…no," Willow replied, her eyes once more distracted by the food
that she could imagine was rapidly cooling, but there was no way she
was going to pig out in front of the Suit and apparently he wasn't
moving. Willow had no idea what to say, how on earth did you tell
someone whose name you didn't even know to go away? She knew that
Spike would have told him to bugger off, somehow that didn't seem
fitting and hesitantly, she turned back to him. "Thank you, you can
go now."

With a pretentious look of disdain, he turned on his heel and left
her. It was definitely irksome, his whole attitude towards her,
almost as if it were offensive to him to even be near her. Still,
the food provided a welcomed distraction and Willow helped herself to
portions of everything that the table had to offer, happily gorging
herself until her stomach could hold no more and even then as the
obnoxious Suit returned to inform her that the couturier had arrived,
she still picked up another piece of toast and took it with her to
the main living room.

Willow had forgotten exactly how many outfits there had been. Too
many it seemed. For hours she was pushed and pulled, shunted from
one outfit to the next and there were just as many people as outfits,
it was suffocating. So much so that it was a relief when the final
outfit was removed, leaving her in the thoroughly crumpled underwear
that she'd slept in, and the small army of dressers left, as did the
Suit after enquiring if she would require anything else. She'd been
tempted to ask after Angelus, but had thought better of it, unable to
stand the Suit's condescending attitude any longer than necessary.
After all, Angelus would undoubtedly turn up when he felt like it,
like he always did.

"Maid service is alive and well, I see," Willow murmured to herself
as she stood in the entrance to the bedroom. The room, in her
absence, had been tidied and the bed made. There was also a fresh
set of underwear, similar to what she was still wearing, laid out on
the bed and normally she would have been relieved to have been able
to have a bath and change. But there was something else nagging at
her, she needed to know where she was and see if she could find out
what was going on, so she turned away from the bedroom and set about
exploring the suite.

It was not as she had first suspected merely made up of a living
room, bedroom and bathroom. There were the smaller rooms to one side
of the main living room, which consisted of the morning room that she
had had her breakfast in and what she would term as a plain sitting
room. A simple archway separated the two rooms and were both
furnished with wicker. The huge glass windows that ran the full
length of the outer wall and the soft greens and golds that decorated
the rooms gave them the feel of a conservatory. They were dead ends
and the doors only led back into the main living area, which was a
room in itself that overawed Willow.

Dark mahogany paneling encased the lower part of the walls and was
matched with deep, dark green. All of which was highlighted by a
gold leaf trim on the moldings and a huge crystal and gold
chandelier. The furniture was just as oppressive, with heavy leather
sofas and chairs gathered about a massive mahogany framed fireplace.
There was something about that room that was unnerving, perhaps it
was the lack of windows, or maybe she was just being silly,
nevertheless the room made her skin crawl. Beyond that massive room
there was yet another set of rooms, the first of which was a formal
dining room with a table that sat eight, it also led into a slightly
smaller and less forbidding living room. While blue dominated both
rooms, it was a softer tone of color and soft white and blue velvet
contrasted with severity of the main living room's leather.

And, of course, there was the bedroom. Wandering back from the other
rooms, Willow took her time to thoroughly explore the massive room.
The bed was the most domineering feature, bigger than any she'd ever
seen before and the heavy damask quilt and masses of pillows
complimented it, with a lavish chaise lounge resting at the end.
Turning away from the bed, Willow cautiously glanced at the huge faux
mirror that took up most of the wall that separated the bedroom from
the bathroom. She could see the whole room in that gigantic surface
and it was intimidating. Actually it was the thought that maybe
there was someone else watching, who could perhaps see more than she
did that was truly intimidating ~ like the double doors that were set
into the wall, opposite to the doors that led into the living room
that she'd never noticed before except for now in the reflection that
unnerved her. Turning her back to the mirror, she made her way over
and pulled them open. The gaping cavern they revealed was pitch
black and Willow fumbled against the wall, finding a switch and
turning it on to bathe the room in light.

"Wow," was all she could manage to say. The room was the biggest
walk-in closet she'd ever seen, even though it was practically empty
and she hesitantly took a few steps inside. There was the dress
she'd arrived in and the gown she'd worn to the theatre, but no other
clothes for her. However, there were suits and not just the
elaborately tailored ensemble that Angelus had worn to the theatre
the night before. Frowning, she dragged her fingers over the various
outfits. The materials were all soft and beautifully crafted, and as
her fingers caught the sleeve of the dinner jacket he'd worn, she
brought it up to rub against her cheek. It was then that she spotted
the leather pants, Angelus' leather pants, the ones he always wore.
Impulsively, Willow fingered the surprisingly soft leather, the scent
of which wrapped about her, making her feel quite dizzy. Jerking her
hand away, she stepped back and took a deep breath, at least she knew
Angelus would come back for his beloved pants.

With a final glance at the few clothes that were hanging neatly, she
turned about, readying to leave, when another door at the end of the
closet caught her eye. There was nothing remarkable about the door,
except that its very existence seemed odd and she wandered down to
it. In books and movies, hidden doors always led to the most magical
of places, with mystical creatures and surreal delights of adventure
and mayhem. The bright white light that shone through the crack at
the bottom of the door certainly seemed to allude to that, that the
door hid a completely different world to the rest of the softly lit
suite. Grasping the door handle, Willow pulled it down and swung
open the door. There was no alternate dimension, nor was there a
snowy wonderland called Narnia. It was nothing more than a tiny
little room with stark walls that would have struggled to have been
any bigger than three by six foot. Her eyes dropped down to the
floor that was covered by a thin mattress with a blanket neatly
folded on the end of it.

For a moment she couldn't do anything but stare at the bizarre little
chamber. Willow couldn't figure it out, every other room of the
suite she could understand, had a label and use for, but this…this
stark little room eluded her. It was carefully hidden away, only
accessible from the bedroom and she glanced over her shoulder, back
along the expanse of the closet, her eyes once more falling on that
massive bed that she slept in with Angelus. The hairs on the back of
her neck stood on end and she slowly turned back to look over the
tiny room with its mattress. The door had only one handle, and that
was on the closet side. If she stood in the tiny room and pulled the
door shut, she would be locked in and it was then, with that
acknowledgement of entrapment, that she realized it was a cell, a
place to keep a concubine when it wasn't warming its master's bed.

Willow was sweating again, she could feel her hands become clammy as
she slammed the door closed and turned on her heel. Tiny beads of
sweat were prickling the back of her neck and she scrubbed at them
with her hand, the gold of her choker seeming unnaturally warm
beneath her fingers. She struggled to walk, to remain on her feet as
she moved through the closet, distancing herself from the door and
what it hid. It seemed to take an eternity to cross the floor and
she pulled the doors closed behind her in some foolish attempt to
negate the room's existence, if she couldn't see it, then it didn't
exist. But the room did, its very being was evident in every aspect
of her time in the massive mansion, the way the staff treated her,
the contempt that she was shown was suddenly very clear ~ she was a
creature that was not meant to be waited on, they resented her. God,
what had been one of the first things the older Suit had said, if the
rooms were lacking…

Clawing at her choker, Willow desperately looked about the room,
trying to find some escape from the nightmare, but there was none,
there wasn't even Angelus. There was just that massive screen at the
end of the room and it was too much on top of everything else. So
she grabbed the change of sleepwear from the bed and made a mad dash
for the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. Slumping
down onto the edge of the bath, Willow drew in a shuddering breath.
Hours passed and she stayed there, winding herself up so much that
she could barely move. She was stuck in some dark corner that she'd
forced herself into and that she couldn't find a way out of, but
dwelling on it wasn't helping and some three hours later she forced
herself to bathe and change.

Unlocking the door, Willow wandered back out to the bedroom. Nothing
had changed and she glanced warily at the mirror and the room that
was reflected, including the telephone that sat nonchalantly on
Angelus' bedside table. Turning and glancing about the empty bedroom
to satisfy herself that she was completely alone, she made her way
over to the handset and picked it up. Dropping down on the bed, she
stared at the number pad, there wasn't anyone she could call and even
if there was, what on earth could she say to them? Without even
thinking, she hit the redial button and brought the phone up to her
ear.

"What?" grunted an all too familiar voice after three rings and
Willow remained silent, holding her breath as her heart pounded.

"Spike," the soft feminine voice carried over the phone lines, the
lilting giggle of Dru was unmistakable, Willow had heard it any
number of times in the mansion back at Sunnydale. "Come play…"

Willow didn't wait to hear anymore or to even speak to the
disgruntled sounding blond, she hung up the call and discarded the
phone as quickly as she'd picked it up. Obviously Spike wasn't
lacking for company while Angelus absent. Not that Spike was ever
lacking for company, Willow thought ruefully as she stared at the
bedside table. She frowned as her eyes falling on an old leather
bound book. It was the book of stories and poems that was always kept
in her rooms at Sunnydale. Hesitantly, she picked it up and flicked
through the pages.

The book had always been a source of wonderment for Willow, the
beautifully crafted pictures with their intricate details and the
strangely penned words. However as she flicked through the pages it
was like it was the first time she'd really seen them. The paper was
old, starting to turn yellow with age, and the ink was taking on a
strange tint, it almost appeared to be a peacock green with more than
a hint of blue running through it. Her fingers ran over one page and
she couldn't help but marvel that it was strange for the stories to
have been printed in such an odd colored ink. Even so, she read over
the words, silently working through them. Most of them she could
understand, although not from the lessons that Angelus insisted she
have, for she was still struggling with the language and its strange
pronunciations. No, the words she read over had never passed her
lips and she'd barely learnt more than one or two of them from her
lessons, but she knew them and their guttural utterances that worked
together to form a story. The page she was reading held the tale of
a fairy mistress who possessed the power of obsession, whose mortal
lovers lived only for her and that was their downfall, for to truly
be with her they had to pass through death in order to meet her in
Tir-na-n-Og.

"The Lianhan Sidhe," Willow murmured, the fae's name rolling off her
tongue with ease as she studied the picture that accompanied the
story. It was a woman laying naked in a forest, surrounded by
flowers, one hand resting above her head in the halo of dark auburn
hair while the other hand dabbled at a brook. There was a secretive
smile curling about her ruby red lips and the stormy eyes held every
color that made up the carefully crafted picture, they were the sort
of eyes that Willow imagined would enthrall most men, would tempt
them to leave the mortal realm. But there was something more to the
picture, the soft strokes of watercolors that wove together to create
the temptress in her Utopia resting against the heavy parchment of
the page. It wasn't as other books, the picture wasn't some print on
fragile and impossibly smooth paper, it was a painting that had been
done by hand and the artist had even signed it. A capital A
languished by the brook and Willow drew her fingers across the small
letter, she'd seen it any number of times before ~ it was Angelus'
signature letter.

Frowning, she turned back to the front few pages of the book. There
was no publishing company proudly emblazoned on those pages, nor any
information at all, not even a title for the manuscript. The stories
simply started with no fuss or introduction and the slant and curl of
the letters made Willow tilt her head so she could scrutinize them.
The lettering couldn't have been created by a typeset, all of the
stories had to have been handwritten. But it certainly wasn't
Angelus' handwriting, nor Spike's, it was too soft, too feminine for
either of the vampires. Curling up on Angelus' side of the bed,
Willow rested her head against his pillow and read over the words
that had been carefully scripted in a loving hand and penned in the
lavish peacock green ink.

It was hard to concentrate, to force herself to focus on the words
and work through them, her eyes were heavy and sleep seemed to fog
her mind. But with that fog came the stories, read aloud by a dark
timbre voice, a male voice in a room whose perfume of flowers barely
drowned out the acerbic stench of disinfectant. Angelus, Angel, the
lines were blurring. As her eyes fell close her room at the mansion
merged with the private room at the hospital and it was bathed in
moonlight, the scent of fresh cut flowers was strong and he was
there, reading to her from the book, story after story. The rumbled
words of the stories enchantingly wrapped about Willow and her eyes
remained closed as she curled tighter, her fingers still gripping the
book that Angel had read to her in the hospital. The stories kept
her company as she slept. Sometimes they were spoken in Gaelic, other
times in English, but the teller of tales was always Angelus.
Angel. Angelus. Reality merged with fantasy and she continued to
sleep. The shadows that were seeping through the suite lengthened,
crept across the floors and up over the walls until there was nothing
but darkness surrounding the sleeping girl.

Willow woke with a start and she lay still, listening. There was a
muddle of light, it flickered softly from the other room and was
accompanied by the crackle of fire, but there was also the
distinctive sound of crystal jingling against crystal. Rubbing at
her eyes, Willow quietly unfurled herself and carefully put the book
aside, her aching muscles delighting in being stretched as she stood
up. Charily, silently, she made her way across the floor of the
bedroom, peering into the dimly lit living room. Night had fallen
and the rooms were all cloaked in shadows, the only light coming from
the fireplace as flames danced in the hearth. But it was enough
light for Willow to make out Angelus reclining on one of the leather
sofas, whiskey in hand and staring sullenly at the fire. Hanging in
the doorway, she watched as he bowed his head and pinched the bridge
of his nose. Tentatively, she covered the distance that separated
them, but he didn't move, his head still bowed as if in pain and his
eyes remained shut as she stood behind him.

Slowly, Willow reached out, her fingers caressing Angelus' temples,
massaging them lightly and he groaned softly, dropping his hand to
his lap. At his apparent acquiescence, Willow perched on the solid
arm of the sofa and silently urged him to rest his head back against
her thigh. Nothing was said and she continued her ministrations,
bringing her thumbs into play, stroking the tense muscles at the base
of his skull. His hair was, as always, soft and the firelight played
over it, casting gold and red highlights through the brown. Tilting
her head, Willow glanced over the vampire stretched out before her.
He was wearing a suit, similar to the ones that were hidden away in
the closet, matched with a tie that had been wrenched loose and the
top buttons of the shirt were unfastened, leaving it open. It was
strange to see him in such formal attire and she wondered where
exactly he'd been that had required such a standard of dress.

"How do you prove a theory?" he suddenly asked, disturbing the peace
and causing Willow to pause with the massage.

"A…a theory?" repeated Willow and she frowned, shaking her head
slightly as he opened his eyes and sipped on his drink. "Well, you
could set up an experiment."

"Exactly," he murmured softly, rolling his head back, the movement
encouraging her to continue with her massage. "But what can you do
when outsiders interfere with that experiment, are hell bent on
destroying it?"

Willow circled his temples with her fingers, rolling her tips over
the points as she considered his question. "Why would they want to do
that? Surely if the theory was to their advantage…"

"Old blood, so set in their ways that they're blinded by them,"
Angelus snarled, pulling away from her and standing up, throwing the
rest of his drink back in one swig. He moved closer to the fire, his
arm resting against the mantle as he stared into the flames. Willow
slipped from the arm down into the seat of the sofa, watching him
closely. "They have no time for theories and even less time for
experiments."

"Is that why we're here?" The question was met with silence and
Willow wasn't sure if she'd even asked it or if he was simply
ignoring it. There was the slim possibility that she was still
asleep, that she was dreaming, perhaps softening the harshness of the
reality she was currently struggling with and she tore her gaze away
from the vampire by the fire, dropping it down to stare at her hands
that were cradled in her lap. The brief moment of security she'd
felt had been broken the instant he'd pulled away and now she was
back in purgatory, neither welcomed nor rejected.

"We'll go out," Angelus murmured and she glanced up to find him
towering over her while his empty glass sat abandoned on the
mantelpiece. "Go get your new outfit on."

Willow swallowed, there was no new outfit and she stood up, wringing
her hands together. "I haven't any new clothes, except these."

Angelus stared at her, running a critical eye over the flimsy
nightwear she had on. "You had a fitting this morning, was nothing
left?"

"No," Willow whispered, cowering down. The couturiers had been, but
she couldn't recall them leaving anything, although it had been
chaotic at the time, maybe they'd left her something and she just
hadn't noticed. "I…I mean they came and I was fitted, but nothing
was left…only this."

Her fingers twisted in the delicate silk and she apologetically
glanced back up at him, but he was already gone, striding away from
her and back to the fireplace, reaching out into the shadows above
the mantle.

"Have you eaten today?" he demanded, turning back to her and she
nodded mutely. "What did you have for lunch?"

Willow blanched, she'd eaten breakfast but lunch was a totally
different matter. Shrinking back, she was about to speak when the
young Suit, who had been so condescending to her earlier on, entered
the suite and provided a welcome distraction from the intimidating
discussion.

"You rang, Monsieur?" he asked with a courtly bow toward the vampire
that made Willow grind her teeth acrimoniously.

"Yes," Angelus stated, slowly turning from her to face the young
man. "Was an outfit left after this mornings fittings?"

"Yes, Monsieur," the young Suit confirmed and Willow bit her tongue,
it seemed typical to her that this upstart wanted to make her look
like a liar and an incompetent fool. "I took the liberty of having
it laundered."

"Did it require laundering?" a cold edge had crept into the vampire's
voice, an edge that made Willow take step back into the shadows in
some absurd attempt to hide from the anger she knew was brewing in
him.

"Well…" the Suit faltered and the arrogant façade slipped
momentarily.

"It's a simple question and can be answered with either a yes or a
no," Angelus growled, pulling up to his full height as he stepped
forward to tower over the servant. "Were the clothes in need of
laundering?"

She watched as the Suit once more faltered, dropping his gaze down to
the ground at Angelus' feet. "No."

"Ten minutes," Angelus growled as in the blink of an eye he reached
out and lifted the Suit up by a stranglehold on his throat. The
demon was at the fore, golden hooded eyes staring at the terrified
servant. "That's all I'll give you. If the damn clothes aren't here
by then, I'm going to eviscerate you and string you up with your own
guts."

Willow backed into one of the doors to the bedroom just as the Suit
was thrown against the main doors of the suite, making them rattle in
their frame. The demon was still there when Angelus turned, the fire
casting strange shadows over the ridges of his face, the hooded eyes
glowing in the darkness and she held onto the edge of the door,
waiting for the inevitable moment where the rage would be turned on
her.

"What did you have for lunch?" Angelus asked and Willow held onto the
door even tighter as she lowered her head and shook her head. "Did
you ask for lunch?"

Willow warily glanced up at him, he was slowly making his way over,
weaving through the shadows. She wanted to blurt it all out, tell
him how the staff was treating her, but there were too many things
holding her back. Fear and loathing mixed with confusion and longing,
and so she shook her head in the negative, not willing to run the
risk of angering him further by not replying to his question. "No, I
didn't."

"If you want something, darlin'," Angelus practically purred as he
stood next to her in the open doorway. "Then you have to ask."

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