Rating: PG-13, eventually NC-17.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or situations. Joss Whedon et. al. owns everything BtVS. I seek no profit from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Angelus sets his sights on Willow.
Distribution: Emerald Illusions, the willangel yahoo group, Bewitching Angel. All others please ask first.
Feedback: Yes, please. It makes me smile.
A/N: This entire series is dedicated to Gabrielle for being who she is.
A/N2: The first two "ficlets" are very short, so I'm putting them into one email. The first one is Soon, the second one is Gifts. :)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~Part: 1~ Soon
He watched her from the balcony outside her room, hidden in the shadows. She didn't know he was out there, didn't know she was the object of his affection. None of them did. Why, though, they thought he was still infatuated with the Slayer of all people, he had no clue. That blond bitch had been the soul's pet project, not his. He wanted nothing to do with her cold, selfish, ignorant ways. He had to admit though, watching her cry over the loss of her precious 'Angel' was quite entertaining. Who knew a Slayer could love a vampire so much? Every single one of the Slayers that came before her must be rolling over in their graves ... it was a thought that would have made Angelus chuckle if he hadn't been trying so hard to be quiet, to hide. She, his red haired goddess, was not ready to know about his particular brand of affection yet.
Soon, though, she would be his. His to command. His to teach. His to break. His to love. His to make into whatever he wanted. She was an open canvas. That was what he loved about her. She was so eager to please, so willing to please ... she would be the perfect student. Angelus could just picture her, spread beneath him, his mark on her neck. The picture of obedience ... the picture of perfection.
He could hardly wait.
He came to her window every night, watching as she prepared herself for bed. She had no idea he watched her as she changed clothes. No, Willow had no clue there was a vampire standing on her balcony watching her slide into bed. If she had known ... Angelus knew things would change. She would tell Buffy instantly. She wasn't ready to know he wanted her. He'd have to strike slowly, build up to it. Work her up to it. But he would. He always succeeded when he really wanted to. And he really wanted her.
Breaking her would be one of his greatest accomplishments.
She would be his in every way. His lover, his childe, his mate.
And she would be the end of his little Slayer problem as well. Turning Willow would break Buffy in two.
Yes, Willow would be his.
Angelus smiled into the night, looking in her window once more as she crawled into bed. "Soon," he whispered.
~Part: 2~ Gifts
They had been little things at first. Willow remembered the joy of walking out onto her balcony with her morning coffee to find them: a rose, a book of photographs, a box of chocolates. Once there was even a very nice framed rendition of Manet's painting 'Luncheon on the Grass'. It was not a print and, at the time, Willow had wondered where her boyfriend had gotten the money to buy her such a nice gift.
Of course, that was when she thought that it was her boyfriend leaving the gifts. Oz had proven yesterday that it wasn't him, though, and Willow wasn't sure what to think of that yet. She was still kinda shocked at her discovery. The fact that Oz was not the person leaving all the pretty little gifts on her balcony nearly every night was something that Willow had discovered quite by accident.
The last gift, a leather bound journal, had arrived with a very realistic silk flower attached to it. The petals were blue and matched the sweater she'd chosen to wear perfectly. Willow had smiled when she placed the blue daisy in her hair, and nearly everyone had commented on it. Some people, namely Harmony, had made fun of her for it, but Willow hadn't let it bother her. At least she hadn't until Oz had asked her where she got it, and had been completely serious. After that, Willow took it out of her hair.
She hadn't been surprised when another gift arrived that very night. She gazed at it, cup of steaming coffee in her hands, and all the little pieces had fallen into place. The portrait of her own sleeping face had virtually stared back at her. The sheer stupidity of the entire situation -- her stupidity -- looking her right in the face, Willow had never felt so alone. Of course Oz hadn't given her the gifts. Not only had he never mentioned them, he wouldn't have been able to afford over half of them. Willow saw on the page in front of her, not the beautiful way the artist had captured her face, but the skilled genius of a serial killer.
The second gift, the only one she'd ever received outside of the shadows of night, arrived while she was at school. Delivered by FedEx, her mother had signed for it and placed the package on Willow's bed. Walking into her room after school, Willow had known the second she saw the box that it was another gift, that it was from him.
She hadn't opened it yet. It, the uncharacteristically plain box, still sat on her bed. Unlike all of his other gifts, there was nothing adorning this one, and Willow wondered if that was because he hadn't personally delivered it. The phone in her hand, Willow stared at the box knowing how easily she could call Buffy for help with this ... unseemly matter. As she looked around the room, however, she saw all the reasons she couldn't allow herself to ask for help. All of the other gifts she'd been given were so proudly displayed around her room, so openly displayed, that Willow knew Buffy would never understand. Her best friend would never believe that she really had thought the gifts were from Oz. They were too clearly not from Oz.
How could she explain that, while she never once said thank you, or even mentioned the gifts, she had truly thought they were all from Oz? Especially now that she knew they weren't? How could she say that and make them, Buffy and Giles, believe? How could she expect them to believe? She wasn't even sure she believed herself. Not anymore. Because, truly, if she had really thought that Oz was the one giving her the gifts, why had she never thanked him?
Willow put the phone down. 'If,' she decided. 'If things get out of control, or to the point that I can't handle them anymore, then I'll tell Buffy. But not yet. I mean, it's just a few gifts. Nothing more than that. Just a few gifts.'
That thought in mind, Willow walked over to her bed and opened the box. A silky, wine colored nightgown with matching robe came into sight and she gasped softly. Picking up the folded note, she read the one word, etched in perfect script, and slowly sank to the floor.
Soon.
She glanced once more at the phone before reminding herself that she could handle a few little gifts. And besides, the nightgown was very pretty. She rose from the floor and walked, note in hand, over to the shelf she'd put all the other adornments on. The note joined the blue silk flower, the gold ribbon, the velvet rope, and Willow, as always, touched each one of them in turn before walking away.
They were nice gifts, after all.
Even if they were from Angelus.
~Part: 3~ Conversation
The nightgown he'd sent her was special, though she had no idea
why. He had hand selected every one of the gifts he'd given her,
but he had taken special care with the nightgown. Admiring it from
afar for so long, even the soul had appreciated the beauty of the design
before being ripped from the demon's body. Angel, of course, had
no one in mind -- not even Buffy -- when he had gazed longingly at
the burgundy satin. He had merely been remembering days gone by.
The classic, almost Victorian, design of the lingerie reminding him
of
his more sordid past. Angelus, on the other hand, had imagined
Willow wearing it as soon as his eyes came to rest upon the delicate
satin displayed in the shop window. The manager had insisted that the item
was not for sale, claiming it to be one of a kind, irreplaceable.
Angelus had laughed at that, deeming the nightgown all the more perfect
a gift at his words, and informed the dying man that the woman he
would give it to was, herself, one of a kind and irreplaceable.
Willow would wear the nightgown, Angelus decided the night he claimed her. He would make her his that night ... he would take her virginity, mark her as his own, and change both of their lives forever. He would not turn her. Her 'death' would come later. They had a lot of ground to cover before they got to that stage of the game, Angelus knew. Willow first needed to learn what it meant to be possessed, what it meant to be owned. She would need to be broken and rebuilt before he could make her his for eternity. Until then...
Until then he would continue to work at earning her trust. For
none of his other plans could come about if she first did not trust him.
Angelus had a precise picture in mind of the kind of Mate, the kind of
vampire, Willow would become. He would not create another Drusilla.
He did not want another weak-minded, clinging, 'can't do anything
without Daddy,' almost minion-esque Childe. No. He wanted a strong,
yet controlled, Mate. Someone worthy of his line. Willow would learn
to trust him, would learn to give into him, give him what he
needed, and he would give her what she needed -- exactly what
she needed -- in return.
It would start tonight. He had planned how this night would play out very carefully. Angelus had waited until Oz, Willow's precious boyfriend ... the one with all of the secrets, had a 'gig' out of town. Angelus knew where he really was, but outing Oz to Willow at this stage of the game was not something he had planned on. Instead, he watched in silence, hidden in the shadows, as the others enjoyed their evening at the Bronze. True to form, Xander and Cordelia left a good half hour before Buffy was ready to leave the club and Willow, ever the good friend, decided to wait with the Slayer.
'Such a good girl,' Angelus thought silently.
He watched as Xander and Cordelia left and signaled the minions he'd brought with him to begin their assigned part in the dance. Just as he planned, five minutes later, someone alerted the club having heard screaming outside and, just as he hoped, Buffy told Willow to stay where she was. He waited three minutes before approaching the table and casually sitting down. He met Willow's wide, surprised eyes, and smiled. "Hello, Willow."
"A-Angelus."
"All alone, such a shame. A pretty girl like you should always have an escort. You never know when something, or someone, could try and take advantage of you."
She swallowed hard. "What do you want?"
"Ah now," he licked his lips. "That is a loaded question. What do I want? Well, world peace, equality for all, Buffy's head on a platter, and possibly a pair of those little fuzzy dice to go on the back of Spike's wheelchair."
Willow blinked. "Spike's not dead? And he's in a wheelchair?"
Angelus wished there had been witnesses to see how easily he'd gotten her guard down. He smiled again. "Actually, Spike is dead. He's a vampire but yes, he's in a wheelchair. He had a burning church fall on top of him courtesy of Buffy. So, yes or no on the fuzzy dice?"
Angelus could practically see the wheels turning in her head, could almost hear her thoughts they were so evident on her face. She was having a battle of the wills, so to speak. He could tell that part of her wanted to run, to go tell Buffy he was here, like the good little friend, but the rest of her ... the rest of her was quite comfortable right where she was. He was very pleased to see her finally shrug and meet his eyes.
"Well," she said finally. "I don't know. It would be kinda demeaning, wouldn't it? The dice? Wouldn't it kinda make him mad?"
Angelus laughed. "That, sweet girl, is the point."
"Oh," Willow said. "Well, then. Go for it, I guess, though don't expect him to like it much."
Angelus nodded and reached across the table, brushing a stray hair from her face. "And your gifts? Did you like them?"
She bit her lower lip. "Yes."
Her voice was a whisper, but Angelus heard her. "Good."
"Are you going to kill me?" she asked suddenly.
Angelus met her eyes once more. "You would have died that night in the hallway if all I planned to do was kill you, Willow."
"That's what I'm afraid of," she confessed softly.
Angelus knew his time was running out. His minions, the one's he had sent to distract the Slayer would all be dust soon. He knew he had to get moving or else risk Buffy seeing him. Standing, he walked over to Willow and tipped her head up, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Don't be afraid of what's to come, Willow. It will only make things harder on you."
Dipping his head, he brushed his lips against hers quickly, smiling as she gasped. "See you soon, my sweet Willow."
He had turned around and was about to walk away when she asked, "Why did you stop sending the gifts?"
Turning back to her, Angelus found her staring at him, her eyes wide. "You enjoyed them that much?"
She smiled then, the brightness, the honesty of the action, almost overwhelming the vampire. "It was nice to wake up to," she said. "Thank you."
Almost speechless, he nodded. "You're welcome, Willow."
As Angelus walked away, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd misjudged her a little bit. Perhaps, he thought, Willow would be more open to his advances than he'd first thought. He grinned evilly as he walked away after draining his evening meal, a blond who reminded him of Joyce, and mused, 'Perhaps it is time to move the plan forward a bit.'
~Part: 4~ Under Appreciated
Willow could not believe the nerve of her friends. The entire day, the hacker had heard nothing but a string of requests that had all begun with the phrase "Willow could you..." It wouldn't have been so bad, really, if they had at least had good reasons for needing her help, but none of them had. Xander'd wanted to copy her math homework because he had gone out with Cordelia instead of doing the assignment. That had not, in all actuality, been much different from any other day, but when Cordelia asked to borrow the same assignment, Willow had felt used and taken advantage of. It was not, however, until later that Willow had truly felt like her friends saw her as nothing more than a doormat.
She could still picture the look on Buffy's face as the Slayer asked Willow to fill in for her during the nightly research session with Giles. Her best friend had been almost bouncing with the news that she had a date. Willow hadn't known what to think about that. For two weeks she had been wracked with guilt over the tiny little kiss Angelus had brushed across her lips that night at the Bronze because Buffy called her, every single night, to cry over the loss of Angel.
Willow could remember how, as Buffy made her request, the Slayer went on and on about how cute and popular her date was, and she couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the sobbing, almost inconsolable wreck of a girl who had called the hacker at three am the night before to once again cry over her beloved Angel.
She had agreed, of course. While Buffy's sudden change in attitude confused the heck out of Willow, she was still happy Buffy seemed ... happy. But when Giles had not only begged off research, but also pleaded with Willow not to tell Buffy he had a date with Ms. Calendar, Willow had nearly thrown the antique, and probably priceless, demon text she'd been holding across the library.
Now, walking toward the Bronze, she was trying to get over the feeling of being used. She knew her friends were likely dancing the night away at the club and, even though Oz was out of town on yet another gig, Willow hoped they wouldn't mind her joining them. She didn't want to go home yet, after all. She had a lot of steam to blow off. Paying the small cover charge and letting the doorman stamp her hand, Willow couldn't help but think about the last time she'd been to the Bronze and the odd conversation she'd had with Angelus. 'And the kiss,' she mused silently. 'Can't forget that kiss...'
Willow sighed as she pushed through the small crowd near the door and began looking for her friends. She still had no idea what to think of the entire "Angelus Situation," as she had started referring to it. Part of her knew she was being stupid and taking a huge risk by not telling anyone about it, but she wasn't sure she could explain it to anyone, anyway. She couldn't define what was
happening to herself. How would she be able to tell anyone else about it? Especially when all he'd done was given her a few gifts and approached her in the Bronze? Willow was sure Buffy and Giles would just say that Angelus was trying to scare her, to make her nervous. 'Too bad for him if that's his goal,' Willow thought as she spotted Xander and Cordelia. 'All he's done is made me kinda like him.'
She walked over and waved. "Hey."
"Willow!" Xander sounded surprised and kinda nervous. "What are you doing here? I thought you were helping Giles!"
The nervous tone in her best friend's voice threw her, but Willow just shrugged and sat down. "Giles had other plans tonight and sent me home."
"Oh," Xander said softly.
"Well," Cordelia said. "Why didn't you go home then?"
Willow glared at her. "Because I didn't want to, Cordelia."
Expecting some sort of comeback, Willow was surprised when her comment was met with silence. Glancing up, she saw Buffy standing next to the table, a shocked look on her face. "Willow," the Slayer said. "Why are you here?"
Willow blinked. She had known that her friends each had dates, but this cold of a reception was not something she'd expected. "Um, Giles had other plans for tonight..."
"Buffy," a familiar voice said. "Here's your cherry coke."
Willow wasn't positive, but she thought her mouth might have been hanging open as Buffy's date walked up to the table. She looked form him to the faces of her friends and then tried to control the tidal wave of emotion building inside of her. "Devon," she said softly. "There was no out of town gig tonight, was there?"
She made it a simple, matter of fact, statement that left no room for questioning her point. The boy looked at her like she was crazy for even thinking there had been a gig. "Wouldn't I be out of town if there was?"
Willow could not believe it. Oz had lied to her. He had lied and her friends had clearly known it, if one was to judge by the guilty looks on their faces. Willow got up from the table slowly and turned, walking steadily away. She ignored Buffy and Xander as they called after her, and hot tears pooled in her eyes as she realized neither one of them was going to come after her.
They were content to yell at her to come back to them ... but would not make the effort to follow her out, would not let her pain ruin their evening. Quickening her pace, Willow left the Bronze and just started walking. Her day, long and now truly embarrassing, playing out in her mind, over and over, Willow paid no real attention to where she was until a vampire grabbed her from behind. She screamed out of habit, her voice piercing the air, and struggled against the hold it had on her. She felt it sink its fangs into her neck and she screamed again, pain shooting through her as she felt blood rapidly leave her body.
Minutes, moments, hours went by. Willow had no way of knowing how long, it seemed like an eternity of pain to her. She felt her body growing weaker and weaker, felt her life slipping away from her, and couldn't even bring herself to fight any longer. Her eyes fluttered closed even as she heard a voice begin to speak.
"Naughty, naughty, Matthew! That one belongs to Daddy."
Willow felt the fangs withdraw from her neck and she screamed again as she was thrown against the hard, cold, unforgiving ground. She heard something pop and pain radiated from her shoulder, telling her that something was wrong ... many, many things were wrong. She couldn't see. Everything seemed to be tinged with red and fading into darkness. Somewhere in her mind she realized that she would be in trouble if the vampire decided to attack again. Somewhere in her mind she knew she would die. Part of her wondered if she was already dying, already dead. She looked down and saw blood on her shirt. Gasping, she reached up, touching her neck, and felt wetness there. Pulling her hand back, she saw blood, her blood, and wanted to cry. Never, ever before had she wanted to cry so badly. But the tears wouldn't come. She didn't have the strength. "Oh my god," she whispered softly.
"You broke one of the tree's branches, Matthew."
Willow's head jerked up at the sound of the woman's voice. She couldn't see her, didn't know who she was, but she knew she was there.
"Mistress, please!"
Willow cringed. Something inside of her went cold at the sound of that voice. She didn't like him.
"You have broken something of Daddy's, Matthew."
"I didn't know!"
"You should have known. The stars have been telling us all for weeks. You should have listened."
Willow heard the sound of a vampire being dusted and wondered suddenly when Buffy had gotten there. "Buffy?"
"Don't talk, little tree," the female's voice said. Willow was lifted up, carefully lifted up, into strong arms. "You will need your strength later, for tea."
Willow had no idea what was going on or who was carrying her, or if she had a dress proper enough for High Tea, but for some reason she relaxed when the woman told her that 'Daddy' would make her all better. Closing her eyes, Willow let the darkness claim her.
The End.