"Nice decor, Wills. What do you call it, nineteenth century moving box?"
"Shh... Here, this way." Buffy looked on skeptically as Willow led her by the hand deeper into the apartment. The whole place was giving her the creeps. As a Slayer, Buffy had always been one to trust her instincts. Cramps were not just cramps in her personal world of biological security. The hairs standing straight on the back of her neck were not often the result of cold alone. "Buffy?"
The blonde snapped back to attention, wishing she could just pull Willow over and get an explanation. Somewhere along their journey through the dark, narrow hallways, the gaunt redhead had manuevered herself behind Buffy, as if to use the Slayer as a shield. Normally, this wouldn't have bothered Buffy at all. Today, however, she was analyzing. Was Willow scared? She didn't look scared. She looked excited, almost jubilant. A strange grin kept breaking out onto her face and then would fade away. Something about all of this smelled.
"Buffy?" Willow prodded her forward, her delicate hands on the other girl's shoulders. "He's in there."
The Slayer found herself staring at an ordinary-looking closet. The mist that seemed to carpet the apartment dissapated around it's entrance. She stared at it for a long, hard moment.
"Buffy?" Willow's eyes shone plaintively. "Are you..?"
"Yeah. Don't worry, Wills. I'll get him. Gimme a sec, okay?"
"Sure, Buffy." The demon offered up a genuinely pleased smile. Now there was a winning catch, although any demon would have a tough time subdueing the spirit of a Slayer. She watched, having to bite back the impulse to lick her lips as the Slayer turned the knob, the door creaking open with a groan that would have made Vincent Price's sound crew scramble for their tape recorders.
Buffy Summers swung the door wide, peering into the room with her hands raised in a fighting stance. She scratched her head idly, turning. "Willow, he's not--"
"Buffy, Look Out!" Angel shouted, tumbling from a guest room door across the hall. Startled, the Slayer had a clear second to react to the violent shove given by her possessed best friend. She fell against the doorframe instead of into the closet. Angel's momentum carried him forward enough to knock the succubus off her feet, sending the redhead sprawling in the other direction.
But friends--that's the nasty thing about demons. They never stay down. Willow countered, swinging her left leg around and catching Angel's jaw. He rolled over limply, struggling with consciousness.
The mist spewed forth from the doorway, more tangible than before. It clawed angrily at the Slayer, half-in and half-out of the room, trying to pull her in by the neck, hands, whatever it could reach. Buffy's natural reaction was to shout at the stuff and recoil. She pulled away without much difficultly, trying to shake the chill from her body. She saw Willow connect with Angel's face and automatically leapt into protective-mode. "Hey!"
"Uh-uh, Buffy." Willow crawled over him like a spider, hooking one arm under his neck. "One word and--"
"You break his neck? Try another one. I've heard that. Do creatures of the night pull lines out of a big book of cliches? Is there like, a standardized text you guys use?"
The Witch pulled him nearly upright, holding his head in a lock. The vampire hung limply from her arms. "Well, goodness. I was going to suck the life out of him and then you, but I suppose we'll get straight to the violence, eh?" The little redhead threw Angel towards the doorway, catching the first of the Slayer's blows in her hand.
The pair would've put American Gladiators to shame. They dodged, bobbed, and weaved, the Slayer taking the upper hand early on in the match. "You want violence, I can do violence." She wailed on Willow the way she always did whenever she imagined one of her enemies was Faith.
Meanwhile, the mist snaked itself around Angel, tying itself in an intricate web of strings. It ignored the battle a few feet away, concentrating its efforts on pulling the prone vampire through the doorway. Heave-ho, heave-ho...
Buffy almost keeled over, a sudden dizzyness overtaking her. For each strike, Willow countered, the redhead never throwing a punch back, just taking each one, letting them connect. She looked up blankly, tripping over her own feet.
"Oh, didn't I mention?" Willow stepped over Angel, who at the moment was fast dissappearing into the abyss of the closet.
"Angel! No!" The Slayer was dealt a boot to the face, knocking her back onto the floor.
"Forget about him for the moment, dear. I think I deserve an apology. Don't you? By the way, I wouldn't try to hit me. I may be a succubus, dear, but I'm hardly an amateur. All your energy is going straight to the power supply." Willow-demon licked her lips. "Now... what shall we do until they're done with him in there?"
The Slayer lunged for Angel's outstretched arm, watching his fingers slip through hers. The door slammed in her face through a wholly supernatural draft. "Angel!"
"That's right, honey." The redhead chuckled darkly. "Go right ahead and scream."
End Part 15
Angel was aware of a falling sensation, then of hitting the metaphorical bottom. All his senses were smothered, invaded by the thick fog surrounding him. It worked its way into his lungs, his heart, his blood, sliming its way inside.
Then they came. He could see it in the mist. Shapes of things too horrible to come from any Hellmouth poured at him, each running at breakneck speed towards the bright spot where he lay. Some seized others, clawing them aside to be the first to possess this new, powerful body.
Angel curled up into the fetal position, aware that he was no challenge for them. Though his eyes squeezed shut, he could see them coming, smell them, hear their snarls--
And he was not afraid. A peacefulness began to surround him. Something gentle and healing. Angel felt the demons nearly upon him and reached out, sending each squealing away with a touch. His hands tingled, shining as bright as mirrors, reflecting against the cloud of darkness that watched him from yards away. The vampire was aware of looking down, seeing his body laying at his feet, and gazing back out at the crowd of them. He hunkered down protectively over himself, teeth bared as if to claim the body as his.
The crowd muttered in frustration, some of them retreating to tearing themselves apart. Angel smiled oddly. They couldn't get him. It must have been Willow... her soul-binding spell. None of them could escape without vessels, and this one was permanently filled. He closed his eyes...
*******
"Really, they do take their own sweet time possessing someone. Me, no wonder I got out. You move in, push all the baggage to one side, and take up residence. It's not rocket science. Not that they know anything. While you were lying here, I went and got the newspaper--they lost another Mars probe. Can you believe it? Current events. Wow, I tell you, blow my mind completely away--"
Buffy rolled her eyes at the succubus standing over her. "Kill me." She muttered into the floor.
*********
...And woke up to a soft wail outside the door. The mist still hung thick in the room, but in realizing it couldn't harm the vampire, it escaped into the hallway, the door opening up a crack. Through the fracture of light, he could see Buffy laying on the floor, the succubus siphoning from her by the simple act of pressing her palm to Buffy's throat. Angel scowled, flexing his muscles. Still very sore, not much good in a fight. Especially not against Willow's strength now. He'd only fed off the Slayer once, but once was enough to know the kind of power she had. He needed a plan before the thing noticed he wasn't demon-ed.
He would act! Help her out, hit her when she isn't looking--
Stupid. How long would that work for? His hand hit his forehead. The demon looked up, peering at the open doorway. It was too dark to see inside, but...
Angel scuttled backwards, his foot glancing against some object that clanged noisily against the wall. Willow dropped Buffy and moved to the closet door. "...Hello? We all done in here?" She knocked. Angel's hand closed around the offended object. He would hit her over the head with--
The collar! The clasp on it wasn't even broken, though the lock mechanism had taken a severe beating. So what shall we do with an anti-evil magic collar?
A plan, you say? Oh yes, a plan.
Willow/demon advanced into the room. Angel hid the collar behind his back. She stared down at him warily. He stared back. "Well?! Are you just going to gawk at me, or are you going to help me the hell up?!" He barked in a pseudo-southern accent, hoping it sounded different enough. She was caught off-guard enough to give him a hand to his feet. "Yeah, that's right, I thought so. Be all suckin' the strength outta people, don't leave none left when we get here--"
"Hey, woah. These guys weren't easy to crack. I got a Slayer out there--"
"A Slayer? Woo-whee, that's a good one. Somebody downstairs gon' be mighty pleased when--" The cheesiness of it all was about to drive him insane. The second she turned her back, snap! on went Mister Collar.
The Best Actor award for the evening, however, would have to go to the demon. The second the cold steel touched skin, it burned with the fire of a sun, reacting to whatever it was that was buried inside Willow's body. The succubus screeched plaintively, scratching at the collar in a futile attempt to remove it. She thrashed against the wall, and though it pained Angel to put Willow through this, he was extremely glad the collar had been made with Willow's affinity for demon-summoning in mind.
Buffy watched from the other side of the room, eyelids fighting to stay open. The succubus was in its death throes, trying to hang onto its prize. It hissed and writhed, slamming into things. She met Angel's tired gaze over the scene. He grimaced back, becoming aware of the disturbing collection of the mist around the closet once more. He pulled himself up, moving to help Buffy. "Come on. Let's all get out of here." Willow lay on the floorboards, twitching. He grabbed her by the leg, no longer in a mood to try and lift her in a comfortable way.
The trio reached the front door, Buffy regaining her strength quickly. She helped get Willow to her feet. Angel moved back inside to retrieve the key, fearful lest anyone should break into the house. A black cloud boiled into the front hallway, just missing the vampire, who fled steps ahead of it, locking the door behind him.
Buffy was holding the elevator for him. The vampire looked torn up, to say the least. His shirt was ripped, revealing a rippling patch of chest muscles that under normal circumstances would've made her heart skip a beat. Had she really grown up that much? She watched his expression curiously as he glanced down the hall at the apartment. "Angel? What is it?"
"We've got to go back." He said, deadly serious. "We can't leave something like that there. I think the demon left...Do you think Willow's going to be okay?"
Buffy nodded. "Everything will work out fine. Let's go back to my hotel room. You can fill me in on the details there. ...And Angel..." Buffy glanced at the collared woman in her arms. "You better have some good details."
End Part 16
Laugh and the world laughs with you, Weep, and you weep alone, For sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing and the hills will answer; Sigh, it is lost on the air, The echoes abound to a joyful sound, But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you; Grieve, and they turn and go. They want full measure of all your pleasure. But they do not need your woe. Be glad, and your friends are many, Be sad, and you lose them all; There are none to decline your nectared wine, But alone you must drink life’s gall.
Feast and your halls are crowded, Fast, and the world goes by. Succeed and give- and it helps you live, But no man can help you die; There is room in the halls of pleasure For a large and lordly train, But one by one we must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain.
Angel stared at the blank wall two feet above Buffy's head, trying hard to process this latest piece of information. "So... you're saying she's not ready to see me yet."
"No, Angel." She sighed, leaning forward. There was a distinct detachment in his voice that unnerved her. "I'm saying she isn't ever going to be ready to see you." They'd been at this for a few minutes now, the vampire refusing to accept the inevitable.
"Well... maybe she thinks so now."
"I think she's going to think so for a while." Buffy's nerves were as frayed as the two friends she valued most in the world appointed her interpreter. Willow had been recouperating in the Slayer's hotel room, waking two full days before she'd even let Buffy tell Angel she was conscious. Since then, he'd been haunting the place, entreating Willow with notes of apology and messages through Buffy to see him. Willow's flat and adamant refusal wasn't getting through to the vampire.
"This is ridiculous." Angel growled, immediately calming back down from anger. "She's right behind those doors. I could walk in and make her talk to me."
"Do you really think it's a good idea to try and make Willow do *anything* else?" To Angel's credit, he did look like he hadn't slept in a week. "Sit down." She patted the seat next to her, taking his hands in her own and patting them in what she hoped was a soothing manner. "Angel--"
"Was I wrong?" He interrupted pleadingly. "I need to know. Tell me. Honestly. Was I wrong to do what I did?" The vampire yanked his hands away, burying them in his hair.
"I... don't know."
"But she stopped. She's okay. ...I said I was sorry. I don't even know why I'm sorry. She stopped, now she'll be okay..."
"Angel." Buffy gently steered his gaze back toward hers. "Willow may have made some bad choices, and no matter what I think... she's a grown woman... God, I don't know what I'm saying. This is totally--okay. Angel?" Her voice lowered. "You were right. You were completely right. Maybe you were a little rough, but so is magic. I'm glad you pulled her out of where she was, and I'm sorry you got the treatment for it. The thing is... I don't know if she's going to be willing to accept that she needed a swift kick to the head, much less be grateful for it." Angel looked away, blinking a little. "Angel?"
The rims of his eyes threatened to spill over. "It's not fair. I wanted it to be so easy..." Angel stood, sucking up the obvious emotion he felt, moving for the door. "Ironic, isn't it? You can only save them if you're willing to lose them..."
The Slayer watched him leave warily, glancing back to the double doors that seperated off part of the suite. "Willow?" The knob turned slowly, the thin redhead slipping into the room. Buffy looked away. "I told him."
"I heard."
"What about the apartment?"
"I have a few friends who'd be willing to perform the necessary spells to shut it all down." Willow had surprised Buffy by being fully dressed; she'd laid around in her pajamas for the previous days.
"You're not doing it yourself?"
"No." She was quiet. "I'm done with magic." Her fingers fidgeted. "For awhile, anyway."
"Then where are you going, if not there?"
Willow set her gaze. "To work. To see if there's any way they'll forgive me for my absence. If not, I'll clean out my locker and find something else to do."
"Yeah... forgiveness is a major theme this year." Willow nodded silently, moving to the kitchen. Buffy sighed again. "I'm going home in a couple of days. Can't let the world pass me by, you know the drill. ...Are you even listening to me, Willow..?" Buffy flopped further into the chair. "So much for vacation."
******** And so, in the interest of eliminating some of the already oppressing angst, the short version: Willow vanished three days later, although she kept in touch with Buffy's Slaying activities back in Sunnydale. Angel, for the most part, wandered around the city, feeling sorry for himself and trying not to think about Willow. Not a night went by when he wouldn't wonder about whether or not she hated him.
And the story could've ended there...
But it didn't. <weg> ...They never do, do they?
End Part 17
Time passes, as it often tends to do, without us noticing. One morning it's fall, the next you can't breathe from the summer smog. The months passed. Officer Buffy Summers was given a commendation by the new mayor in Sunnydale, one that didn't yet appear to be or be controlled by a demon. She just met a man with beautiful green eyes, and the oldest slayer in history couldn't give less of a damn about when her winning streak will run out.
Although life may go on, sometimes people don't. Somewhere across the great american span, a year went by without Angel's notice. He walked most evenings, looking for a flash of red hair amongst the passers-by. He frequented clubs sullenly, on the off-chance she might appear. That coffeehouse where they'd had their reunion was his favorite nightspot, though. Of course, some weeks he didn't move from the couch, watching television with a glazed disinterest.
It was one of those nights the night he saw her again, captured for a moment in the lens of a camera. Angel nearly bolted upright. It couldn't have been her, it just couldn't--
He turned up the volume, a breaking news story being broadcast on a local station. "...report that by day, this manufacturing warehouse is used for storage, but police beg to differ with tonight's bust of what appears to be a market for elicit drugs and prostitution..." The camera once again flashed over a small red-headed woman in a leather outfit. Her head was bent over, hair covering her face, but he knew her instantly. Willow. "...over thirty in police custody--" Angel ran out the door, came back for his pants, shoes, and wallet, then ran out the door again.
*********
"Laurel."
"Laurel." Willow looked up, still having trouble answering to her alter ego's name since...
"Laurel. Sheez, girlie, space cadet." Sheila dropped next to her on the bench, crossing his--er, her--legs demurely. She elbowed Willow playfully. "Don't get so nervous. Everyone gets arrested. We won't be in here long." The transvestite flipped a few locks of teased hair over her shoulder, smirking. "I can't believe they put me in with the women. You'd think they'd be able to tell tha--" Sheila started, peering at the smaller woman. Her arms were folded, back sunk against the wall. "Beg pardon?"
"Shut up." Willow sunk even lower, feeling a kind of humiliation she'd thought was gone. In the dark of the night leather was a comfort, an expression of all that was wild and untamed, the material a conveyance of raw sexuality. Now, under the flourescent lights, it was hot and confining, causing her to sweat unpleasantly. Much too real to be any fun. Her makeup was ruined as well. Tears had swabbed away the better part of her mascara. To top it off, that nasty little voice in her head was telling her that using a simple glamour, she could be home in bed right now.
"Well. Someone's got just a little bit of attitude, doesn't she?" Sheila turned away huffily. "It's not like it's a big thing. The Company will bail us out in a little while. Then we all go back to work."
Most of the room looked up as the guard unlocked the cell door. He stared at the motley group of women. "Rosenberg. Rosenberg!" Willow was hesitant at answering, since that technically wasn't her name any longer. She rose up off the bench, trying to ignore the severe wedgie that propriety wouldn't allow her to take care of in this public view, raising a hand. "Uh... me?"
"Willow Rosenberg?" She nodded, catching wondering stares from her co-workers. "You made bail. You're free to go."
"...Wait. Just me?" She had expected the whole group to be released at once, since logically that's what the Company would've paid to have happen.
"Just you. The rest of you ladies--" The cop put a slight sneer on those words. "Will have to wait for your knights in shining armor to show up. That goes for you too, Castrati." He flipped a smug look to a shocked Sheila, then led Willow out into the hall.
"Um... I think you might have the wrong person." Willow jerked her arm away, walking straight and tall as possible while looking like the uncomfortable member of the Avengers. "I'm with them."
"Your boy doesn't seem to think so."
"My...?"
"The guy who bailed you out."
"But... I didn't call anyone."
"Tell him that." The Officer led her into the lobby, pointing out a nervous man fidgeting in a metal folding chair. His hair was unkempt in a maddeningly cute way and he kept glancing around, his eyes flickering yellow when he saw her, raising a seasoned blush from the redhead. She averted her eyes, embarassed at the whole situation. How had Angel known to come and get her? Was he being a stalker guy and following her? A million questions raced through her mind. Making the top of the list was 'What in the world am I supposed to say to him?' "Rosenberg. Papers for you to sign." Willow ducked her head, trying to keep herself under control. There were too many things left unsaid, too many things neither of them would ever have the guts to say, and especially not here.
Angel was mentally kicking himself. The least he could've done was say hello to Willow. Not that he had any idea to approach the kind of confrontation he kept thinking about. In his fantasies, she'd run towards him, jump into his arms and beg his forgiveness between kisses. In his more vivid fantasies, she would put all the blame on him and spit in his face. He was hoping for a happy medium. The vampire watched her sign away. There sure was bureaucracy in getting arrested.
Willow nodded to the officer, who took away her paperwork without returning the friendly smile she'd given him. Her stomach was a little fluttery because now came the hard part. Turning around. Okay, deep breath, here we go.
It felt as if someone had changed the temperature in the room. She met his gaze very briefly, ducking her head in a sort of nod. "Angel."
He didn't even have a chance to get out a greeting before she swept past him and out the door, tottering unsteadily on those high heels they made her wear at work. The vampire blinked, then rushed to catch up. He fell into step beside the redhead, who still wouldn't look at him. They walked all the way to the curb in silence. Willow raised her arm for a cab.
"Thank you." Angel's heart nearly leapt out of his chest. Play it cool.
"S'okay." Jesus, can't you say more than one word without sounding like spaz?
Willow put her hand down, taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes, knowing that if she let this become a big thing, she'd be girly and start crying. How do you communicate 'this was all my fault but you're the one who butted in without being asked to and I want to be friends again but if you're going to turn into Mr. Psychofreak and try to change me, I don't frankly know if I want to take the risk' without getting emotional? "I mean thank you for-more-than-just-the-bail." She nodded curtly, turning around again to wave for a cab.
"...Let me give you a ride?" He managed, knowing he desperately didn't want her to get away and leave him again. "Please, Wi...Laurel?"
He's not going to bite. Just talk to him. "You have a car?" She asked.
"Yeah. I got tired of stalking--I mean, walking everywhere." Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is me, I'm creepy.
"Brave of you. To drive in New York, I mean." Willow nodded. Tension crackled around them and spilled over into the street. Suddenly there were whistles from the other side of the street, shouts of 'Hey, baby' and the like from a group of impressionable looking youths in gang colors. Angel growled without noticing, his first impulse to run over and tear them apart. He felt a small hand on his shoulder. "Don't. It's okay. I'm used to it."
"It's not okay." Angel countered softly, concentrating on feeling her fingers against his collarbone.
"See, this--this is why--aaugh!" Willow threw her hands into the air. "It comes with the territory. People aren't insulting me, they're reacting to what I'm wearing. It's not about chivalry or honor or anything." For the first time Angel noticed what she was wearing. Really noticed. The catsuit clung to her like a second skin, molding beautifully to her hips, pressing her breasts up invitingly towards the low-cut neckline. The vampire blinked twice, then finally forced his eyes to focus above her shoulders.
Willow not-so-casually folded her arms over herself, first trying to cover everything below her waist, then trying to deflect fire from her cleavage, finally dropping them at her sides in mild frustration, because she knew she shouldn't be bashful about this sort of thing. Thinking of herself in terms of desirability was always something akin to acting in her book.
Angel glanced across the street. "We should go. In case they decide to come over here and ...chat. My car's this way." He took a few steps, infinitely pleased when she began to follow.
Willow folded her arms, trying to ignore her head. Smart people are cursed. First, they aren't shallow enough to spend hours on their appearance, second, they can see all the horrible angles to a situation. Right now she was denying a paranoid feeling that he was going to load her into an unmarked van and keep her locked up in an apartment somewhere. The nasty thing was that she'd probably let him. She could pride herself on only a few things, but one of them was the recent iron-clad conviction against magic use. She wouldn't be able to get away. Did she want to?
The ex-witch was startled out of her thoughts by Angel placing his jacket over her shoulders. She looked at him questioningly. "You looked cold." He said cryptically, ducking his head and leading the way to a modest SUV. Black, of course. Willow reflected briefly on the underlying meaning behind his giving of the jacket and her immediate acceptance, then decided it was silly.
"I always wondered what kind of car you'd drive." He opened her door for her, closing it after, his eyes not meaning to stray so much. Willow quickly tucked herself further into his jacket.
"It's not much." He got in. They started. They drove. Angel tilted his head slightly. "Where do you live, again?"
"I never told you." Willow fixed her gaze on the side mirror. Another moment passed. Angel made a judgement call, pulling the car over.
"Are you going to?" She didn't move a muscle.
"What if I do?" Her back was still turned. She didn't know if she could say this looking into his eyes. "Am I going to have to worry about waking up powerless in a strange place?"
Angel thought for a moment. "I'm sorry... that I had to do that to you." He looked icily at the car parked in front of them. "Maybe it wasn't the best choice, and I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry we don't talk anymore. I'm sorry we left things unsaid."
"Oh, we left things unsaid?" Her eyes flashed. "Then why don't you say them?" Silence. "All right, fine." She snapped, turning. She could do this if she was angry. "I'll start. The reason I haven't kept in touch, no matter how much we get along, is because I can't trust you not to judge what I'm doing. I can't decide how you're going to take something--I could never tell what you were going through--" Willow gripped the seat cushion, throwing words at his blank stare forward. "You're doing it again. Don't treat me like that. For God's sake... at least start the car. I'll tell you where to go." He looked over at her, questioning. "Far be it from me not to pay a debt. I owe you for the bail."
"Don't worry about it--"
"I don't want to owe you anything." She was sorry for the last one. "I mean, when I can afford to pay you back."
"Right. You're a professional, after all." It came out like an insult.
"It's my job. I told you not to expect to change me."
"You don't use magic anymore."
"That was my own choice, got it? My own. Don't go thinking you had anything to do with me not using magic--!"
"That's a lie."
"I know!" Willow shouted. She felt tears well up. Great. Totally invested in this now. "Turn here. Look, just... It's easier to blame you, not that you don't deserve some of it--I screwed up. I know that. Why couldn't you just have left well enough alone and not tried to swoop in on your white charger and save me like you're Sir Lancelot or someone? I can make my own mistakes! They're my mistakes to make."
"You needed help--"
"I will not go back to being that person again." She went quiet. Angel sensed that she wasn't finished. "I don't need help." She said the word with such contempt. "I will not go back to Sunnydale and being little Miss Dependent again. I am going to be in control of my life. Make a left."
"Is that why I bother you? Because you can't control me?"
"No."
"Then--"
"It's because you scare me."
"Oh." That floored him. He could hold his own in a fight, sure. "Oh." For a few moments, he'd thought they had a chance to work through the mess. "I'm sorry."
"Stop." He looked over at her. She swallowed. "I mean, this is my house. That one."
"Oh. Right." Angel backed up, parallel parking smoothly. The building was very nice, but looked a bit like a warehouse.
"It's a studio apartment. A nice one. I have the whole top floor."
"Looks... cozy."
"It's better on the inside. Come on. I have money upstairs." Willow got out of the car, moving towards the door. Angel followed at a distance.
"Are you sure you want to--you know, invite me in?" She only paused for a second before she nodded, but it was enough. Maybe he wasn't such an evil person as he'd made himself out to be, but he'd completely broken any trust they had. Briefly, he considered telling her that it was all a horrible mistake, that Angelus had somehow surfaced and done all those things to her, that he was the one who'd kissed her that confused night. Then Angel could just go back to being the stoic one in the corner. There for Buffy's sake, nothing more.
He almost laughed. He and Willow were both schizophrenic. Or at least, they were trying to be. How convienient to detach yourself from your evil.
They rode up smoothly in the elevator, neither one having much to say to the other. The button by her floor had a keyhole in it, and only Willow's key would allow the elevator to go to the penthouse. The grates slid apart easily, Willow tossing her keys into an ashtray by an ornate coatrack.
"Hello!" Announced a bright voice. Angel nearly jumped out of his skin. Willow just smiled and pranced forward on the impossibly tiny stilts holding her heels off the ground. A tall woman who looked as if she'd just come over from Africa that morning beamed at them. Well, at Willow, anyway. She ignored him, tossing the redhead a black appointment book. "Your ten o'clock cancelled. He said he had a rather painful experience at the dentist yesterday and has himself scheduled for invasive surgery."
"Aw, come on. I could do dental torture. Marnie, this is Angel, Angel, Marnie." Marnie gave him a tight-lipped smile. "And before you ask, he's not a client. Marnie's my sometimes personal assistant. She organizes my client appointments, keeps records..."
Angel furrowed a brow. "I thought the company--"
"I sometimes work freelance." He blinked dumbly at her. "In the apartment. That's why it's so big." Willow sighed. "Why do you need to know any of this? I'll get your money." She tottered out of the room, leaving him to stare blankly at Marnie, who looked none too happy to see him. Her first sentence to the vampire gave him quite a bit of insight into her character.
"So." Marnie began. "You're one of them dainty little white boys that like to get their ass whooped because they got stress?"
"...I'm just a friend." Angel grimaced.
"Right. And so is Pierce. Listen, here's a business card. It'll save you some embarassment, not that you probably care. Got one of 'em that walked around here stark naked. Anyway, nobody likes to ask the Lady for a number, and she don't like to give it out." Marnie looked at him suspiciously. "You from the club?"
"Uh... I've been there before." He nodded. She seemed to accept this.
"Right. Tell the Lady I'm headin' out. I think she's changing." Marnie swept past him into the elevator, leaving Angel to do battle with charged images his head was sending him. Willow, standing in front of her bedroom mirror, brushing her hair out of the way so she could undo the zipper of the catsuit. It gets caught. She tries again. Oh, no. Still stuck. So she calls him into the bedroom and asks him to unzip her--
"Angel?" Willow appeared at the end of the hallway in flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers with an envelope in hand. "Are you okay?"
"Fine." He swallowed, his voice cracking slightly.
"Here." She handed him the envelope. "I know about what it takes to get me out."
"You've been in jail before?"
Her eyes were frosty. "I think we're done here, Angel."
"I can't leave like this. I wish I could erase everything that happened..."
"Angel. We're done." Her jaw was set. "I'll always care for you, if it helps." The follow-up was flat. She'd turned into Laurel again on him.
"And what if I decide we've still got something to discuss?" He stepped forward, almost menacingly. She flinched backward. Angel retreated. "I'm sorry, Willow. I'll go." He stumbled over his own feet, hitting the elevator button. It came up and dinged cheerfully open, accepting the vampire. He hit the button for the lobby. "I'm sorry." She heard him mutter, before he vanished from sight.
"Bye, Angel." She called very quietly, locking the grate behind him.
*********
Back to the daily grind. Willow left her last appointment in mid-whipping, so sick of whiny little submissives that she could kill one of them. Company policy was very clear on this point. If you felt that you would actually be moved to cause serious physical harm, you were supposed to go home and phone in for a few days. Actually, a rest sounded wonderful.
It was the Angel thing. Every time she saw him, she'd go into a tailspin. She was attracted to him, cared about him, and was terrified of him. As much as she wanted to, a large part of her had not been able to forgive his commandeering of her life. You'd think a few months would've helped to heal some of the wounds. She had finally resolved her issues with walk-in closets, though, so the therapy was making a bit of progress. Even if her psychiatrist thought she was mildly insane from her repeated 'hypothetical' talk about magic. She wondered if the man would bolt from the room when she decided to let out her emotional baggage regarding certain vampires.
Willow arrived home in due time, checking her appointment book disinterestedly. Marnie would be out tonight. There was someone scheduled, though. All Marnie had written in was 'Newbie at two.' That was her term for someone that hadn't been to the house before, though usually there was a name written underneath. Let's see... here at two... she had an hour until he got here. She shrugged, opening up the 'dungeon'. Really it was a converted rec room with special modifications. It was much more advanced than her setup at work, and the in-home service let her take care of clients in ways that weren't allowed in the club.
Oh, not any sex or anything. Not like she really got off on all of this. Just a job, that's all. But some of them liked her to be a little rougher on them than policy dictated... some of them also didn't want to be seen in public, even if it was underground and invitation-only public. Many of her personal clients came to the house because (by request) she would ignore the familiar practice of safewords and just go on with her work until she got tired of it. They said it added a thrill to know that they had no control whatsoever. Plus, they could pretend they belonged to her. At least, that's what she'd been told by a couple of regulars she was curious about. Willow wasn't sure she was wholly comfortable with the idea, but shrugged it off. Came with the territory.
Despite her better judgement, she had a glass of red wine... well, more like two, and went into the bedroom to don a robe and lay out a couple of outfits. She usually liked to see what the client liked before she changed.
*********
The elevator dinged open while Willow was touching up her makeup. She called from the bedroom. "Have a seat. I'll be right there." In a deceptively friendly voice. She hoped this one didn't like it gentle, because she was not in the mood to behave. Willow left her shoes off, the short robe falling teasingly just above mid-thigh.
She padded down the hallway, posing seductively in the doorway. "Did I keep you..." Her jaw dropped.
Angel smiled hopefully. "...Waiting?"
End Part 18
"Angel, jesus, you scared me." Willow stomped her foot, pulling the neckline of her robe a little more closed. "I'm expecting a client."
"I know." He said, gesturing to the duffel bag he was carrying. "I made an appointment with Marnie--that's her name, right?--yesterday. She told me to make sure to clean up and bring a change of clothes. I did." He nodded, fidgeting with the bag. It betrayed his deep-running nervousness. "So. What do we do now?"
Willow tried her best not to look stricken. "Angel. This isn't funny."
"I didn't mean for it to be." Angel straightened. If doing something this crazy was the only way to show her that he trusted her and wanted her back, he'd do it. Truthfully, it was all he'd come up with. He tried to put on a smug smile. She might try to refuse him at the door, but if he could goad her into it... "If I'm not mistaken, Willow, I've been bad and I need to be punished."
Willow felt a blush rising from deep within. "This is ridiculous." She announced, flouncing back toward the hallway.
"Wait!" Angel moved after her, catching her by the arm. She flinched slightly, but pulled it together, stiffening. He released her gently. "I want to do this. I really, really want to do this."
Willow brushed a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. For a moment, she'd reached out to the magic, ready to bring down a lightning bolt. "Why?" It was half-question, half a plea for him to leave immediately.
So you won't be afraid of me anymore. "Don't ask me to answer that, Willow." He smoothed his hands against his shirt front. "I want to do this."
"It's not sex, Angel." She was blunt as an old razor. "It's not even fun."
"I somehow doubt that." He gave her an uneasy, but charming, smile. "Otherwise you wouldn't be so popular."
She looked hard at him. "You're really into this?"
Angel nodded, kicking the puppy dog eyes into gear. "Yes." Things were going well. She hadn't thrown him out. If she would just start talking to him, maybe they wouldn't even need to step into that other room she had so carefully left dark.
"All right." She nodded, after a moment. The expression on her face was drawn and unreadable. "Since you're a first-timer, I'll try to take things slowly. I suppose you know how to address a Lady?" Willow rolled her eyes at his silence and repeated the last sentence.
A confused look crossed his face. "...Oh!" He hazarded a guess. "Ma'am?"
"Or Mistress. Or Lady Laurel. Whichever you prefer." Laurel smiled, her eyes flashing, as if to say 'be careful what you wish for.' "Forget you ever knew me outside these walls, Angel. Would you like me to call you Angel?"
"...It's my name." She gave him a reproachful look. "Ma'am."
"I'll take that as a yes. I expect respect, as I provide this service for a very costly sum and according to the dictates of my own judgement. Do you know what a safeword is?"
Angel nodded, mystified by her abrupt change, and suddenly more than a little nervous about his headlong plunge into this strange world he was fairly unprepared for. All vampires are supposed to really love blood play and get off on pain, and Angel could remember snippets of Angelus' escapades that seemed to corroborate those assumptions. However, as several people had so gallantly stated, he was not his demon. He had little to no experience with torture... except the kind that seemed wholly unpleasurable. Now he was inviting Willow to do it.
Gee, what a vampire will do when he gets bored with self-flagellation.
"Angel, when I ask a question, I want an answer with a ma'am on the end. Got it?" She barked, startling him.
"I know what a safeword is, ma'am."
"Would you like to use one?"
"No, ma'am." He answered quickly. He had to trust her before she'd trust him.
"Are you sure?" This puzzled Willow. Was he trying to be macho? Pretty stupid of him. "Listen. We'll make the safeword 'applejack'. Just because you're new at this."
"I'm more experienced that you think... Ma'am."
Willow clucked her tongue. "Who said you had permission to speak?" She took a seat on a leather chair, perching so that she faced him. "Strip."
The word echoed through Angel's brain. He wasn't quite making the connection, but his subconscious picked up on the severity of Lady Laurel's tone. His fingers fumbled with his shirt buttons, undoing them slowly. The vampire almost felt bashful. This didn't feel like anything he was used to. It wasn't at all like seduction. The other party has to at least appear to acknowledge your presence. Willow prompted him onward, the shirt fluttering to the ground. "All the way. The belt, the pants, everything." There was an edge to the word 'everything'. Like she'd rolled it around on her tongue for a moment, letting it melt there.
Angel kept the undressing slow, watching her uninterested expression as his undershirt stretched over his head, it's removal outlining his hard chest and rippling abdominals. He slid his belt out excruciatingly slowly, one loop at a time, caught in the moment, as it were. He was undressing for Willow. His reverie was interrupted by Laurel's 'ahem.'
"I just said strip. I didn't say in slow motion. Hurry it up." He took down his slacks in the most coordinated manner he could manage. "And the boxers." As if this was boring her! Angel undressed, putting his hands on his hips. Laurel's lips crinkled at the corners. "That's hardly a respectful way to stand. Hands at sides."
What am I doing what am I doing what am I doing--SMACK! ...Thanks. I needed that. Willow was having trouble not giving into an appreciative glance, much less the drooling gawk she would've preferred. He was beautiful. They should've made statues inspired by him. ...Well-endowed statues. To his credit, he was playing along well.
"Right." She stood, face impassive. "I'll be along shortly." She called back, as an afterthought. "Wait in the other room."
End Part 19