Pairing: W/Aus
Warnings: Sex, Noncon
Summary: Angelus is bored, Willow is unwary.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I were Joss, Willow would have been the show's main character!
Distribution: If you want it, ask. I'll almost certainly say yes.
Feedback: Please! Constructive criticism welcomed!
A/N: Thanks to Missy for harassing me until I finally started writing this, to Eridan for being the catalyst, and to Kat, Emmy, Elisabeth, and Lisa Kelley for their unwavering support and encouragement! What did I ever do to deserve friends as wonderful as you? Whatever it is, I'm so glad that I did it!
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~Part: 1~
Angelus stalked through the darkness that enveloped Sunnydale as if he owned it. Which, in a sense, he did. No other vampires or demons who called The Hellmouth their home dared challenge his superiority.
But the thrill of being Master of Sunnydale had already begun to pall. Goading Spike had grown old quickly. After all, how much of a challenge was a cripple confined to a wheelchair? And then there was Dru. Either his memories were faulty or her century with Spike had fatally eroded her skills as a bedmate.
She mewled and squealed, groaned and writhed, and irritated him to the point where he could barely reach climax inside her cold channel. She was scarcely better than Buffy had been.
Buffy...now there was a laugh. How Soulboy had gained enough pleasure from her sorry sexual performance to achieve "perfect happiness" Angelus would never know. Even her virginity was no excuse for her deplorable lack of erotic prowess. No question about it, it had been far too long since he'd had a good piece of ass.
But suddenly, strolling past the entrance to Sunnydale High, Angelus unexpectedly spotted what might well be the answer to a horny demon's prayers. And so it was that he found himself shadowing a small, redheaded figure down the empty halls of Sunnydale High.
Willow cursed herself inwardly for her carelessness as she made her way back to the high school. How could she have forgotten the tests she needed to grade for her Computer Science class?
Since Jenny Calendar's murder, Willow was entrusted with teaching her classes and she was determined to do the job to perfection. It was the least she could do for the woman who had been more than her teacher. Jenny had been her friend and her mentor and Willow had idolized the techno-pagan. Her death had been a gut-wrenching blow from which she felt she would never recover. The only thing that made the grief abate even a little bit was when she felt she was living up to her idol's skills as a teacher.
Which is why Willow now found herself walking alone through the demon- infested streets of Sunnydale, armed with a stake, cross and holy water. She had left the tests she had given her Computer Science class that day on her desk. She could have left them and postponed grading them for another night, but she felt she owed Jenny Calendar nothing less than perfection. So now, at nearly 11 PM, she swiftly made her way back to Sunnydale High, hoping that all the demons would be too busy with other prey or fighting the Slayer to bother with her.
It was with enormous relief that she unlocked the deadbolt and made her way through the doors of the high school and down the hall to the computer lab. In her haste to get the papers and get home, however, she neglected to lock the doors behind her.
As she entered the computer lab, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She had the uneasy feeling that she was being watched. Stopping to think for a moment, she decided that she would call Giles and ask him to come get her and drive her home. She walked over to the desk and reached for the phone receiver. Unfortunately, before she could dial the number, she was grabbed from behind. A hand covered her mouth. And the voice she feared most murmured in her ear.."So, we meet again, Little One."
~Part: 2~
Angelus nearly crowed with delight. When he had first spotted the shy hacker entering the building, he had thought that perhaps she was there to meet one of her friends, or maybe the Watcher. But as he watched her bypass the library and head to the computer lab, his dead heart soared. Foolish little Willow was all alone and no one would be there to save her.
Willow couldn't believe this was happening. And it was all her own fault. She knew better than to venture out alone late at night. Her best friend was the Slayer, after all. But she just had to come back for those stupid test papers. And now she was going to die. She just hoped that Angelus would make her death quick.
With his hand still covering her mouth, Angelus pulled Willow closer to him, relishing the way her small frame fit against him. He bent down and whispered in her ear once more, "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" He chuckled as he felt her confusion at his use of the corny old pick-up line. Confusion, fear, anguish, self-hate, resignation; he could smell all those emotions rolling off of her in fragrant waves and it made for an intoxicating and arousing sensory cocktail. He started to wonder if just grabbing a quickie and leaving her artfully displayed body on the computer desk for her students to find in the morning was really the course of action he wanted to follow after all.
"What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Of all the things Angelus could have said to her, she hadn't expected that. She wished he would stop playing games and just get things over with. Not that she wanted to die.far from it. Willow had a great many things she still wanted to do with her life and dying was not on her agenda. However, she'd snuck a look at Giles' Watcher Diaries and she knew the kinds of torment Angelus often put his victims through before killing them. And she much preferred to die quickly rather than endure his twisted "games". But he seemed lost in silent contemplation after that one attempt at humor and Willow was smart enough to know that Angelus' thoughts would not be dwelling on anything that would be to her benefit. So she found herself with the twisted hope that he would just snap her neck there in the computer room, rather than taking her somewhere to torture and perhaps turn her.
Angelus found himself in a quandary. Sure, when he had first spotted the cute little redhead entering the school his idea had been to take his pleasure and break her neck. But now, with Willow's soft body pressed against him and his nostrils filled with the delicious scent of her despair, he began to think that there might be better uses for the petite friend of the Slayer. His prior encounters with her had all come when he was either saddled with the soul or too preoccupied to truly appreciate her attractions. Here, alone with her at last, he had a chance to reappraise her charms, and he found himself far more interested in her than he had ever been before. Perhaps he should spend some time with Willow and really "get to know" her.
Willow felt Angelus' hand over her mouth and his other hand caressing her stomach as he held her to him. 'This is so not good', she thought to herself. She had never been attracted to Angel, not even when he had a soul, and the intimacy of Angelus' touch made her sick to her stomach. She had hoped he would just end her life the way he had Jenny's, but now it seemed as if he might have something else in mind. And Willow began to understand the concept of "a fate worse than death".
'Decisions, decisions', Angelus thought to himself. On the one hand, the computer lab was really no place to play. But taking Willow back to the factory was not an option either. He was in no mood to deal with Drusilla's reaction to him bringing home some female companionship. She would pitch a hysterical fit at the idea of her "Daddy" taking his pleasure with another woman. So what would he do? Suddenly, the answer came to him and he smiled against Willow's neck.
Willow's heart fell to the pit of her stomach when she felt Angelus' lips curve upwards against the smooth plane of her throat. 'Oh no', she thought, 'This is not a good thing'. But then, suddenly, she felt the tearing pain of his fangs entering her throat. 'Maybe he's just going to kill me after all', was Willow's last thought as she descended into peaceful darkness.
~Part: 3~
He might have spent the past eighty years in a soul-constructed cage thanks to those damned Gypsies, but he could still think on his feet, Angelus thought as he gazed on the still form of Willow Rosenberg. Taking her to Soulboy's apartment was an inspired last-minute decision. What better place to wipe away the memory of screwing the Slayer than in the bed where his souled alter ego had made that mistake to begin with? And while Willow would certainly be missed when she failed to show up at school in the morning, there was virtually no chance that her friends would think to look at Angel's old apartment for the missing hacker. His childer couldn't venture out during the day, and even after nightfall, would not know of any reason for him to be here either. So he'd be able to spend at least 24 hours "enjoying" Willow's company in total privacy. Yes, this was a foolproof plan. Not bad for a spur-of-the-moment improvisation. Not bad at all.
Wouldn't sweet little Willow be surprised when she awoke here? Naïve girl. She had probably thought he was simply going to drain her right there at the school in order to hurt Buffy and the Scoobies. She had such low self-esteem, he chuckled, thinking that her entire value to him lay in her friendship with Buffy, believing that he would have no interest in her other than as a tool to inflict pain on the Slayer and her merry band of do-gooders. Well she was certainly going to find out differently when she emerged from unconsciousness. This little 'teacher' had so very much to learn.and he was just the demon to instruct her.
Looking at her, as she lay half-naked on the bed, he marveled at what had been kept hidden under those appalling sweaters and ill-fitting jeans all this time. He had allowed himself the pleasure of undressing her when he had first carried her through the door, but decided to wait to take off her bra and panties. White cotton.how innocent, how virginal, how very Willow those garments were. He could barely stand the wait to remove them. His cock was getting harder just looking at her than it had during any of his encounters with Buffy and Drusilla. But his patience would soon be rewarded, he reminded himself. After all, he had only taken enough blood to render her unconscious for a brief time.
But how to proceed when Willow awoke? He had suffered through sex ranging from mediocre to downright appalling since getting control back from the soul. He wanted this experience to make up for that as much as possible. Should he just force the girl? Make her suffer? Enjoy her fear, her shame, her degradation? Or were there other, more interesting possibilities?
Searching through the soul's memories, he discovered that Angel believed Willow might have a crush on him. He remembered smelling the faint scent of Willow's arousal when he was with her a number of times; at that ridiculous goth club where Angel, Willow, and Xander had gone to check out Buffy's old friend Ford, at a number of research sessions at the library, once or twice on patrol. Angel had even tried to talk to her as little as possible so as not to encourage her infatuation. But.he couldn't recall encountering that scent at any point when Soulboy had been alone with Willow. Not when he had gone to her room to ask for her help. Not when she had come to him about Eyghon. And that made no sense. Only one other male had been present on all the occasions when Angel had sensed Willow's arousal.Xander Harris.
Angelus' throat tightened in anger, his teeth clenched, and his hands formed into fists as he struggled to contain his demon. How dare she prefer that bumbling fool to him! Even with a soul, he had been a far worthier object of female lust than that Twinkie-addicted moron! Oh yes, he certainly had some lessons to teach Miss Willow. When she awakened she was going to find out just how mistaken she had been in her desires. His choice was now made. Willow owed him dearly for this blow to his vampiric pride. And he was going to take great pleasure in collecting the debt. It was time to wake her up.
~Part: 4~
Willow came back to consciousness slowly. She was bothered by the feeling of someone else's hands on her body. And she was cold. Suddenly, she remembered the events of the night, opened her eyes, and shrank back to the end of the bed in horror. The hands she had felt caressing her flesh belonged to Angelus, and she was wearing nothing but her bra and panties.
'Oh no,' Willow thought. Her worst fears were coming true. She had thought he was going to drain her there at the school, but he hadn't. He had merely taken enough blood to render her unconscious so he could bring her here.to Angel's old apartment. She'd only been here once before, but she remembered it. She hadn't liked it here. She had never really liked Angel and she liked Angelus even less. And now here she was, almost naked.on a bed.with the vampire who had murdered her favorite teacher. She wanted so badly to be brave and strong, like she knew Buffy would have been in this same situation. But she wasn't Buffy. So she began to cry.
Angelus chuckled as Willow awoke and pulled her legs up to her chest with her back against the wall. When she began to cry, he knew it was time to speak, to let her know what he had in store for her. "Now, now, Little One. No need to be modest, it's nothing I haven't seen before. And I'll be seeing much more very soon." Angelus chuckled again as a deep blush suffused Willow's pale form. Her blushes were adorable. Another sign of the sublime innocence that he ached to corrupt and devour. He reached his hand out to stroke her cheek, capturing a teardrop on his finger and bringing it to his lips. It tasted marvelous, redolent as it was with the tang of innocence, regret, and despair. There was nothing of Willow that he had tasted so far that was not a banquet for his vampiric senses; her scent, her blood, her tears. He couldn't wait to taste the rest of her.
As she tried to draw away from his hand, Angelus growled low in his throat. He was being gentle with her, but that could change if she didn't start cooperating. He struggled to maintain control over the anger born of wounded pride. He was going to make her enjoy this, whether she liked it or not. And soon Xander Harris would fade completely from her heart. Replaced by a far more suitable lover.himself.
What had she done to deserve this? This had to be a nightmare. Sure, she had dreamed of being alone with a man half-undressed before. But in her dreams, that man had always been Xander. The room had always been either hers or a room in some imaginary, glamorous hotel. And the sex had always been sweet and consensual. She had been so sure that either Xander would be her first or she would die a virgin. But now she was faced with the grim reality that her first time, and probably her last time, would be with the soulless demon she feared more than any other demon she had ever faced. The demon who had brutally killed the woman she idolized more than anyone she had ever known. The demon who wore the face of the man her best friend had lost her own virginity to. The demon who would use her and then kill her when he was done. And all Willow could do was ask "Why?"
"Why what, sweet Willow?" Angelus asked, replying to her softly spoken question.
"Why am I here? Why am I almost naked? Um.why haven't you killed me?" Willow said, choking back her tears and trying to be brave despite her embarrassment at her state of undress.
Angelus burst into hearty laughter. "Well, Willow, I always knew you were innocent. But surely even you can't be that naïve."
Willow could barely breathe as a fresh wave of fear overtook her. "Buffy will know something's wrong when I don't show up for school, you know. She'll come looking for me. And when she comes here and finds out what you're planning to do to me."
"What makes you think she'll find us?" Angelus interrupted. "Why would Buffy even think to look here? I chose the location for our tryst very carefully, Little One. No one would think to look for us here."
"Tryst?" Willow asked, her voice tight with apprehension.
"Yes, tryst," Angelus said, a hint of mockery in his tone, "A lovers' rendezvous. Surely you know what the word means."
"I know what the word 'tryst' means, Angelus," Willow said, with more than a bit of anger at his insult to her intelligence. "But we're not lovers."
"We soon will be," Angelus countered. "We soon will be. And now I think the time for conversation is over. There are far more delightful ways for us to occupy our time, don't you think? And when it comes to learning about the pleasures of the flesh, I guarantee you'll find me a very good teacher."
"Don't. Please don't rape me. Please.you could think of some other way to get back at Buffy. Please," Willow pleaded, her last vestige of hope fast fading away. She didn't want to learn anything from Angelus, least of all about making love. But that's not what this would be. It would be rape. And then he would kill her. Would Buffy hate her? Blame her? Would Xander think she was dirty and hate her too? The thought of being hated by her friends after being raped and murdered by an evil vampire was too much for Willow and she burst into tears once more.
Angelus was fast losing patience. He had deliberately restrained himself, promised her pleasure, and this was the thanks he got. It would serve her right if he did just tear off her remaining clothing and brutally take her innocence. But he thought once more about what she had just said and paused. She really believed this was all about Buffy. Didn't she realize that if that were the case, he would have just taken her at the high school and left her there for Buffy to find in the morning? Willow truly did have no self-esteem, he concluded. And perhaps that was the reason for her unfathomable preference for Xander Harris. Maybe she was simply fixing her affections on an object she felt in keeping with her sense of her own worth. Well, he would just have to make her see that his interest in her had nothing to do with the Slayer. Meanwhile, he decided not to dwell on the question of why Willow's affections were so important to him, or what he was going to do with her after today.
~Part: 5~
It was time to begin Willow's lessons.
Moving closer to Willow, Angelus pushed her legs down and moved her arms away from her chest. "Hush, Willow. There's no need for tears," Angelus said soothingly as he stroked the skin of Willow's shoulders. "Believe me. You're going to enjoy this as much as I will." He reached behind her back to unhook her bra and slid the straps down her shoulders, dropping the bra to the ground. His eyes flashed gold in warning when she made a move to shield her bared breasts from his gaze. Slowly, he brought his lips down to meet hers in a soft but demanding kiss.
This was as close to Heaven as a demon like him would ever get, Angelus thought. He could taste Willow's innocence and purity as he coaxed her to part her lips for his curious tongue. He caressed the cavern of her mouth thoroughly, savoring the texture and taste that was so uniquely her. She offered no resistance as he deepened the kiss, gave in to his desire for her and claimed her with his lips and tongue, brushing one fang across her lower lip and sucking it into his mouth. The taste of her blood hardened his cock to a degree that was exquisitely painful. But soon, there would be sweet relief for that agony. In her acquiescence Angelus felt surrender, and he was certain that victory was well within his grasp. Willow would be his in every sense of the word.
~~~*~~~
This must be Hell, of that Willow was certain. If she thought there was anything to be gained by fighting him, she would surely do so. But she didn't have the strength to fend him off and she was worried about what more he might do to her if she dared to strike out at him. So she did not resist when he touched her, when he humiliatingly removed her brassiere, and when he invaded her mouth with his tongue in a pantomime of the act she was dreading but knew was imminent.
She could taste him as he moved his tongue over hers and it was all she could do to keep the bile from rising in her throat. She already felt dirty. She knew it would only get worse. Maybe if she just stayed still and tried to focus her mind on happier times, she could dissociate herself from her body while this was happening. She had read in books that some women had been able to do that while being raped. Maybe she could be one of them. She could only hope.
Moving his hands down her soft body, Angelus began to caress Willow's breasts as he moved his lips from her mouth to her ear and began gently sucking on the delicate lobe.
He moaned softly as he felt Willow's pert nipples harden under his expert fingers. "I knew you would enjoy this," he said softly in her ear, before leaving a trail of kisses down the column of her throat. He resisted the urge to bite into her neck and taste the delicious elixir that flowed just beneath her skin. That would undoubtedly be a bad move right now. And he was far too close to his goal to risk it for a pleasure he could certainly enjoy later, when she was in a more 'accepting' frame of mind, he thought as he moved to engulf her breast with his mouth.
Try as she might, Willow could not distract herself from Angelus' touch. And when his cold fingers caused her nipples to harden, she felt a shame so deep that it cut to her soul. A shame that was only compounded by Angelus' mocking taunt, "I knew you would enjoy this."
She had never felt less pleasure in her life. She knew he was only saying those things to hurt her, to increase her humiliation, and to make her emotional pain more intense. Nonetheless, his words did hurt her, did increase her humiliation, and made her feel more like a whore than she ever thought she could feel. And when his attentions to her breasts changed from his using his hands to using his mouth, she couldn't stop the tears from filling her eyes and spilling onto her cheeks. Why was he doing this? Why was he putting her through this sadistic parody of lovemaking? Why couldn't he just rape her, kill her, and give her peace? She wondered if she ever would have believed it possible, before now, that anyone could ever want what she was fervently wishing for at this moment.
Angelus gently pulled Willow's body down the bed 'til she was lying prone next to him. He propped himself up on his elbow and gazed at her face. "Beautiful," he murmured as he leaned down to claim her lips once more. He was happier than ever that he had made the decision to bring Willow here. She was not a piece of meat to be fucked in a hurry and forgotten as quickly. No, Willow was an epicurean feast meant to be savored at leisure and to be thoroughly enjoyed. The soft flesh of her breasts, the texture of her small, pink nipples, the gentle slope of her shoulders; all of these deserved the appreciative touch of a connoisseur, and he was just that creature. It was truly fortunate that he alone amongst the males of her acquaintance had the discernment to appreciate her rare beauty. She would have been wasted on a bumptious moron like Xander Harris. When Angelus had finally taken her, shown her the ecstatic heights to which he could take her body and soul, she would thank him.
Willow's fear, disgust, and self-loathing only grew as Angelus continued his attentions. She thought she was finally nearing the culmination of her torture when Angelus pulled her down the bed to lie flat on her back, but he simply continued his obscene pretense of tenderness, calling her "beautiful", acting out a twisted parody of seduction, caressing her body and increasing her emotional torment as his lips once again covered hers and his cool tongue invaded her mouth, filling it with the taste of degradation and death.
Why did she have to go back to the school that night, she thought. Why hadn't she just stayed home? This was all her own fault. And when her friends found her body they would probably say she had asked for it. The tears fell copiously from her eyes, though she tried to stop them, not wanting Angelus to have the satisfaction of seeing how much pain he was causing her. But then she realized that he'd probably know how much pain he caused her whether she cried or not, so she simply let the tears fall. And with each tear, she prayed for death.
He was fast losing his ability to maintain control. As much pleasure as Angelus was deriving from his slow and gentle worship of Willow's body, his own needs were increasing in urgency. But he was confident that she was ready for him by now. He had two centuries of experience and, when it suited him, had always been an excellent lover; capable of taking even an unwilling partner to the heights of passion. His skills at touching and pleasing a woman were unmatched. And he knew that by now, his practiced caresses must have Willow aching with desire and ready to surrender her virginity to him without hesitation. So he moved his hands to the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her legs, dropping them to the floor beside her bra. He positioned his leg between Willow's thighs, urging them to part for him, pleased to find his suspicions confirmed by her compliance. He reached down and slid his fingers between the petals of her sex, expecting to find them slick with the juices of her arousal and to find her clitoris swollen and aching for his attention. What he found shocked and angered him. Willow's sex was bone-dry, her clitoris still hidden, and the air entirely devoid of a scent he had taken for granted he would find.her arousal.
The frigid little bitch! How dare she fight him this way! To his way of thinking, her resistance to his efforts to seduce her was a deliberate slap in his face, an insult that he would not allow to go unpunished. He had allowed her beauty and fragility to beguile him into showing her an unparalleled level of sensitivity and gentleness. And this was the way she responded to his extraordinary generosity. The echo of her earlier words rang in his ears, "Please don't rape me." So Willow considered this rape, did she? Well, he had been a gentleman once, taught to defer to a lady's wishes. And if rape was what this lady wanted, then rape was what she would get.
~Part: 6~
Suddenly, Willow's world was completely shattered. Angelus pulled her legs apart and thrust into her, deep and hard. He tore through the barrier of her virginity without a thought, burying himself to the hilt inside her tight, unwilling body. She had never known she could feel such intense pain without dying from it. All her senses were focused on the area between her thighs where Angelus had invaded her and stolen her innocence. It felt as if she were being sawed in half from the inside as he withdrew and then plunged into her again, as forcefully as before. Willow screamed and begged for him to stop, but her pleas fell on deaf ears as he continued to thrust into her. "Stop! Please! I can't take any more! Please!" Willow cried. But she might as well not have spoken at all. Angelus just continued his brutal assault on her body and spirit, a look of intense pleasure on his face.
It served the little bitch right, Angelus thought, as angry with himself for his earlier weakness as he was at her for being able to resist his charms. This was what he wanted.needed. The thrill that could only come from the cruel debauchery of a true innocent. Willow's channel was almost unbearably tight and his first thrust caused him pain along with her as he forced himself through her barrier and all the way into her cunt. But unlike Willow, Angelus relished the pain. And he reveled in her anguished cries and pleas for mercy. The frigid little whore should have thought of that earlier, when she spurned his seduction and mocked him with her resistance to his caresses. She had only herself to blame for the pain he was inflicting on her now.
Willow could think of nothing but the overwhelming agony emanating from where Angelus was thrusting into her. She wished those books had told her how those other rape victims had managed to separate themselves from the reality of their attacks. She couldn't think or feel anything but the agony inside her as Angelus continued his relentless assault. But soon she began to feel another kind of pain, the pain of anger. She thought of Buffy, whose star-crossed love for the souled version of her assailant had set Angelus free and who hadn't killed Angelus when she'd had the chance; of Giles, who knew the dangers she willingly faced as Buffy's friend but who had never taught her a bit of self-defense; of Xander, who had taken her for granted and spurned her in favor of the hateful and cruel Cordelia; and of Principal Snyder, who was so used to expecting Willow to provide free tutorial services that he never even thought to hire a teacher when Jenny Calendar was killed, simply taking it for granted that Willow would take over.and had put Willow right where she was now. A sense of betrayal and rage filled Willow as she thought of them all, ironically taking her to the state of dissociation she had longed for, but straight into another kind of agony.
Angelus continued his relentless conquest of the tiny redhead, ramming his cock into her with merciless brutality. Convincing himself that this sadistic attack gave him as much gratification as the sweet surrender he had sought earlier. Over and over again he thrust himself into her tortured body, smiling at her screams and the look of anguish on her face, the terror in her eyes. Each stab of his cock into her channel was an extension of the rage and humiliation he felt at her rejection of his advances, her immunity to his attempts to beguile her and arouse her desire. And with each thrust, he knew he had broken her spirit beyond repair. He felt no need to prolong his completion, so with a final, brutal plunge, he sent his cold seed spilling into his despairing victim.
As Angelus ceaselessly raped her body, Willow's mind traveled back through the sixteen years of her life. Years she had spent with parents who never loved her, friends who took her for granted and used her, schoolmates who put her down.no one had ever really loved or even liked her, she realized. And after Angelus was finished abusing her, he would kill her. Bringing to an end a life that really had never been a life at all. Would the afterlife be the same? Would God (or whoever was in charge) expect her to be the guardian angel of doing people's homework for all eternity? Or would he send her to help teenage boys to practice asking out their crushes by trying out their lines on her? Was it possible that this was all she was meant for.forever? And at that thought, despite the agonizing pain ravaging her body, despite the reality of having been brutally raped by a murderous vampire and feeling his release staining her body as surely as his assault had already stained her soul, Willow burst into tortured and hysterical laughter.
~Part: 7~
When Angelus heard Willow's laughter, he became consumed with rage. The worthless little cunt was laughing at him? He'd make the little whore beg for death by the time he finished punishing her. He pulled his spent cock out of her and dragged her swiftly to a seated position on the bed. And still, Willow laughed. Even as Angelus fixed her with an angry gaze, his demonic features fully evident; with his fangs bared, his forehead ridged, and his eyes flashing yellow in fury. He needed to make her see what a mistake she was making by taking him so lightly, by mocking him, by laughing at him. So he drew his hand back and slapped her full-force across her face.
Willow couldn't feel the sensation of Angelus finally pulling out of her ravaged, aching body. All she could feel was the overwhelming sense that her life had been a joke and eternity would be the punchline. So she laughed, heedless of the meaning it might have to the vampire who had just finished brutalizing her, heedless of the fact that it might provoke an even more vicious and cruel assault, heedless of anything now that the strain of the night's events had overwhelmed her beyond her ability to cope. Her laughter bubbled out of her in waves that crested and faded only to reemerge; each fit of hysterics more uncontrollable than the last. She was lost in a boundless sea of confused and chaotic emotions, unable to tell one from another, unable to even form a coherent thought. It was only when she felt the blow to her face that Willow returned to any sense of reality and became aware of where she was once more.
Upon seeing Willow's lack of reaction to his "game face", Angelus knew that her laughter was something far different than he had originally supposed. Had he driven her mad? 'Shit,' he thought. This was not what he had wanted at all. Truth be told, neither was the rape. He realized now that he had wanted much more from Willow than a night of sexual pleasure. He had seen in her the qualities he had once thought he had seen in Drusilla.
But in Drusilla, those qualities had merely been an illusion. Her chastity was nothing more than a product of the times, her innocence and piety a mask. Hell, even her lunacy was a ploy. For Angelus had quickly realized that Drusilla was, at heart, a creature of monstrous narcissism. Her dolls, her indecipherable speech; every aspect of her 'insanity' was carefully calculated to ensure that she received an endless amount of attention and care. And when Angelus had shown signs of becoming bored and disinterested in her affectations and 'eccentricities', she had sired Spike as a rival, knowing that a competitive creature like Angelus would never allow himself to be eclipsed in any contest. Even a contest for affections he no longer truly wanted. Drusilla had played him like a violin and he had fallen completely into her trap, hanging onto Drusilla as if she were his one true love, taunting Spike with the fact that she loved Angelus more, giving her what she wanted most in unlife.the spotlight, a place at the center of their world. And all the time he was fighting for something that was a mockery of what he truly desired, something he now knew was right in front of him. Or had been, until he destroyed her.
Reflecting on Drusilla and what a mistake it had been to ever bother with her would get him nowhere. He needed to focus on Willow and what to do to bring her back to sanity. There had to be something he could do to salvage the situation; he couldn't have found what he wanted most only to lose it before it ever really was his. He had learned from his past mistakes, and he would fix the mistakes he had made tonight. Or he would make all those Willow had ever cared about pay for having had what he truly valued and what they had never deserved: Willow's devotion, Willow's heart, Willow's love. But no, those things could be his, would be his. He could still make things right, make Willow see the truth; that he had done what he had done because of how badly he wanted her. And that he was the one who appreciated and deserved her. And all he had to do was stop her from descending into madness. But how?
Willow had no idea of Angelus' thoughts over the last few moments or of his new ideas about her place in his unlife. But while she hadn't felt the full impact of the blow to her cheek, she had felt enough to bring her back to a semblance of awareness, enough to bring her back to the realization of where she was.on a bed, naked, with the vampire who had just finished brutally raping her. And now her laughter suddenly turned to sobs; deep, gut wrenching, heartrending sobs. She cried for the physical and emotional pain she could once again feel. She cried for the innocence and the illusions she had lost forever. She cried for the friendships she had never really had and the love she would never know. She cried for all of those things and for things she couldn't understand or even name. But most of all, for the first time in her life, Willow cried for herself. And then, in a turn of events which sent her mind and her feelings into a state of paralyzing confusion once more, Willow found herself wrapped in strong arms and held against a firm, cool chest as she continued to break down.
When Willow's laughter had transformed into tears, Angelus wasn't sure what to do. He decided to let his instincts guide him. Instincts which, he hoped, would lead him back on the path he had wished to travel all along, the path to Willow's heart. For here was the creature of intelligence, understanding, and boundless, unselfish devotion he had longed for as his companion. A girl who would put him above all else, including herself; a girl who would worship him, adore him, and make any sacrifice to please him. A girl who would place her wit and intellect, as well as her body, at his disposal at all times for him to use as he saw fit. He refused to think about the fact that his own narcissism rivaled that which he found so monstrous in Drusilla. He was not, by nature, introspective. He simply saw the world through the window of his own desires and needs and acted to fulfill them. And he wanted and needed Willow. So he allowed his instincts to guide him and pulled the sobbing, wretched girl into his arms and began to murmur soothingly in her ear.
"Shhh, sweetling. It will be all right. I'm here," Angelus murmured in Willow's ear. She heard the words and vaguely realized that there was something wrong with finding comfort in them. But she was too desperate to cling to the sudden feeling of safety and calm that she was experiencing to pay the warning bell in her mind any heed. So any thoughts of the twisted incongruity of finding relief from her anguish in the arms of the monster who had caused it were swept to the side. And for now, she simply allowed herself to revel in the feeling of someone caring enough to soothe away her pain for the first time in her life.
Angelus nearly burst with pride and relief as he felt Willow relax into his embrace, sensed her tears abating, and heard her soft sigh as he murmured soothing platitudes to her. All hope was not lost. Far from it. He was now closer to achieving his newfound goal than he had been at the beginning of the night. Willow was surrendering herself to him. He could feel it. And if his instincts could just guide him as surely as they were now, Willow would be his forever.
~Part: 8~
As Angelus held Willow's shuddering body close to him, the wheels in his mind were turning furiously. They couldn't stay here at the apartment for much longer. He had childer and his position as Master of Sunnydale to worry about. That meant he would have to go back to the factory, at least until his plans to obtain a more suitable residence could be carried out. But no matter where he made his home, he would have to make sure that Willow would be safe there; not only from the minions, but from Drusilla as well. Her jealousy would make her a serious threat to Willow's well being.
And then there was the question of whether or not to turn his new red-haired consort. On the one hand, turning her would make it easier to safeguard her and would make her presence more acceptable to the minions, if not to his psychotic childe. But by turning her, Angelus risked losing the very qualities in Willow that he found so appealing; her innocent nature, her devotion, her naïveté, her malleability and eagerness to please.in short, her humanity. He decided that whatever the drawbacks were to leaving Willow human were far outweighed by the risks involved in her turning. And as far as her mortality was concerned, he had heard of spells that could bind a mortal to a vampire, tying her life to his and preserving her as she was until his unlikely demise. He would find someone capable of performing such a ritual for them. He had time; Willow's beauty would only increase over the next few years. He would happily wait some time before stopping the clock on the aging process in her case.
While Angelus was busily planning their immediate future, Willow found herself unable to think at all. Her mind was overwhelmed by all she had endured, and all she had realized, and now her thoughts were nothing but a confused maelstrom. So she just gave herself over to the comfort of being held and cared for, regardless of whom her caretaker was, and the fact that only a few minutes earlier he had been the one who ripped her life and her soul to shreds. She didn't ever want to lose the warmth she was experiencing in Angelus' cold embrace, so she gave up any attempts to regain control of her ability to reason and analyze. And she let herself get lost in the sensation of being held and being allowed to cry.
The sound of Angelus' voice was as pleasant as a lullaby, a balm to Willow's wounded spirit and she felt as if she were drowning in it. Or as if it were a warm blanket wrapped around her, protecting her from the cold. She couldn't recall a time when she had ever found the sound of someone's voice as welcome as she did now. It wasn't the words he spoke, but the way he spoke them.so full of concern and compassion, in a way no one had ever spoken to her before. She could listen to his voice forever if it sounded like that. She forced herself to stay focused only on the exact moment she was living now, knowing that even a casual thought about a future as imminent as five minutes from now would lead her to confront the awful possibility that the words would stop, or that the voice would change and be like all those other voices she had heard throughout her life; voices that dismissed; voices that mocked; voices that patronized; voices that were cold. So she let the sound of Angelus' voice hypnotize her once more, not wanting to confront the likelihood that she might never be spoken to or held in such a way ever again.
As his thoughts drew to a conclusion and he focused on the slight form he held close to him once more, Angelus began to pay close attention to what he was doing and how Willow reacted to it. He wanted to make sure that he made no further errors in judgment, errors which had already brought him perilously close to disaster. Listening carefully to her heart rate, he noticed that it slowed to a calm, even rhythm when he spoke to her. He could feel her almost imperceptibly draw closer to him with each gentle caress and with each softly spoken word of comfort. So he continued to murmur soft platitudes in her ear. "There, there now. It will be all right, Willow," he whispered. "I'll take care of you. No one will hurt you again."
The perverse, almost laughable irony of hearing those words from the lips of the demon who had savagely attacked her in this very room, on this very bed, was lost on Willow. Each word, each gentle touch became a drug, a drug to which she was rapidly becoming addicted. No one, not even her own parents, had ever held her or cared for her so. And though she had never even admitted it to herself, she had always longed for someone to give her what Angelus was giving her now.this feeling that someone actually cared that she hurt and wanted to heal her pain. The part of Willow's mind that still associated Angelus with the brutal destruction of her innocence was quickly buried under the tremendous emotional pressure to simply accept the longed-for compassion and care that he was the first person in her whole life to give her. And with that final act of psychological surrender, Willow wrapped her arms around Angelus and laid her head against his chest.
When he felt Willow's arms move to wrap around him, Angelus fought to contain his jubilation. She was his, really his. Or at least she was nearly there. She was looking to him for solace; accepting his comfort, his embrace, and maybe his love. If she were to go with him willingly, it would be far easier to keep her safe from his childer and his minions. Perhaps he could arrange for her to stay at another, secret location. One known only to them, where he could visit her regularly, even stay with her most days. If he could trust her to remain there, to wait for him, and not try to contact any outsiders, such an arrangement might be the perfect solution to the problems inherent in this new relationship. At least it would do for a while.
But there was another, even greater problem that needed to be dealt with; the horrible introduction to sex she had received from him tonight. He would need to alter her association of sex with pain and anguish and do so as soon as possible if she was to truly accept him as her lover and protector. With that in mind, he began to gently caress her back. Gradually he altered the nature of his touch from soothing to sensual as he carefully monitored her response to his attentions. When she didn't pull away, he slowly disengaged himself from her embrace, moved his hands to cup her face, and touched his lips to hers in the softest of kisses.
At first, Willow didn't register the change in the meaning of Angelus' hands stroking the soft skin of her back. But when he moved her arms from their comfortable place around his chest and began to kiss her, she felt a renewed sense of panic. But almost before she thought to protest, Angelus spoke once more and calmed her fears. "It's alright, sweetling. I promised no one would hurt you again, didn't I? I just want to touch you, to show you pleasure. I promise, you'll feel so wonderful. Just trust me. Relax and let me make it all better."
With those words, Willow surrendered to Angelus' touch. She trusted him. She had to trust him. If she didn't trust him, he would go away. And with him would go the feelings she had felt for such a short time, but to which she was now desperately addicted; the feeling of being cared for, the feeling of being protected, the feeling of being cherished, the feeling of being.loved. Did Angelus love her? Was that why he had so aggressively attacked her earlier? Had it been her fault for initially refusing to accept his love? Had she hurt him? Was what happened simply his way of trying to show her how intensely he wanted and needed her? Willow was so confused. All she knew for certain was that she didn't want to lose the only real affection she had ever been given in her life. So she decided to trust Angelus and enjoy whatever he wanted her to. Slowly, Willow lay back down on the bed with her arms at her sides. She was his to do with as he wished, and she saw in his eyes that he knew that as he bent down to kiss her deeply once more.
~Part: 9~
When Willow gave herself over to Angelus' ministrations, she felt weightless, as if a huge and intolerable burden she'd never even known she was carrying had been lifted from her shoulders. All her life she had tried to be good so that people would love her. But instead, the harder she tried, the more she was left alone; expected to shoulder responsibility not just for herself, but for everyone else. And in return for her efforts she got.nothing. Nothing but the most hollow pretenses of affection and esteem. Pretenses that even she could no longer force herself to believe in. And she had always believed this reality to be her fault. Because she was somehow deficient, not trying hard enough, or simply unworthy of love at all. But now, here was someone who cared, someone who offered affection and protection as a reward for compliance and surrender. And oh how she longed to give up the reins she had held since the time she was old enough to walk. Whatever price she had to pay for this nurturing and love, at least she would be getting something in return for it. So she lay still and calm and surrendered her body and her self to Angelus' will.
Angelus allowed his eyes to linger on the supine form of the fragile redhead. She was so lovely, like a piece of exquisite porcelain with her slender limbs and her milk-white skin, its ivory perfection disrupted by a few faint, but adorable freckles. He frowned slightly when his eyes drifted between her legs and he noticed the evidence of his earlier rough treatment. The petals of her sex were red and inflamed and there was blood dried on the smooth skin of her inner thighs. He would have to be exceedingly gentle and limit his attentions to her if he was going to keep from inflicting further pain and scarring her fragile psyche beyond repair. He began to caress her breasts, teasing her nipples with feather-light strokes of his fingertips. "So lovely," he crooned softly. "You are so lovely, my Willow."
As he moved to lie down beside Willow, he scented the air. 'Good,' he thought to himself. 'She's not afraid anymore.' He decided to go a bit further with his attentions to Willow's body and moved to softly engulf one of her breasts with his mouth, careful to keep his movements slow and his touch soft. "Relax, sweetheart," he murmured. "I promise I'll only give you pleasure." And with that, Angelus slowly trailed kisses down Willow's abdomen as he placed himself between her legs.
Willow relaxed and allowed Angelus' caresses to arouse her body. Somewhere in her mind she wondered why that 'pleasure' wasn't a source of greater enjoyment than it was. But she let the thought pass, content to simply bask in what did bring her pleasure: the fact that someone was attempting to cater to her needs for the first time in her life. If arousal wasn't all she'd imagined it would be, well, she could live with that. And in time, perhaps, that would change. But for now, this was enough. At least the amount of arousal her body was experiencing would make Angelus happy, so he wouldn't leave her and take his affection, his soft words, and his soothing actions away forever. And his touch this time was not a source of pain, after all. She could tell he was thinking only of her with each caress. She would revel in that and let it fill her, and show him how much she appreciated his generosity and his love.
Peppering her stomach and thighs with soft kisses, Angelus moved to position his head between Willow's legs. He began to gently caress her raw, swollen folds with his tongue, reveling in the taste of the traces of her virgin's blood that remained there. When he went to penetrate her with his tongue, however, he noticed her try, and fail, to keep from stiffening her body in pain. Poor thing, he thought, as he felt a rush of demonly pride at the effects of his rough taking of her earlier that night. He had marked her with his cock as surely as he had with his fangs and he couldn't help the wave of arousal that surged through him at that realization. But his objective now was to please Willow. And augmenting her suffering was not on his agenda. So he denied himself the rest of her virginal nectar and instead sought out the pearl hidden within the petals of her sex. As he gently coaxed forth her clitoris and began to suckle on it gently, he was gratified by the scent of her arousal. It was different, to a degree, from what it had been when Angel had misinterpreted its cause months ago. But that was to be expected. And it was all the sweeter for being that way, since this scent was for him, and him alone. He happily filled his dead lungs with that scent as he brought Willow closer and closer to release, and closer and closer to being his completely.
When Angelus had responded to her involuntary stiffening at his touch by changing the nature of his attentions, Willow could have cried. No one had ever been so considerate of her before. She had been so frightened that her reaction to his probing tongue would anger him. Instead, he had stopped and shifted his attentions to her clitoris. She had spent her whole life with nobody caring if what they did pleased her or not. From birthday presents that took no account of her taste, size, or interests, to demands on her time made with no thought that she might have something else she'd rather be doing. Willow had lived for 16 years without being shown the most minimal degree of consideration. And now, here was someone who was not only trying to please her, but was paying attention enough to notice whether he actually did; and who reacted when he didn't, not by blaming her, but by changing the nature of his actions.
It was all too much to absorb, and Willow couldn't help but let a few grateful tears fall from her eyes. It was true, what happened earlier that night had been her fault, the result of a horrible misunderstanding. She was just so grateful that he loved her enough to give her another chance. And she would do anything to make sure that she never made another mistake. So when the tightening of her sore, bruised channel signaling her oncoming orgasm brought her more pain than pleasure, Willow focused instead on the touch of Angelus' hands on her thighs, on the way that he cared enough to do this for her to try to ease her pain, and on the memory of his honeyed voice crooning gentle words of comfort as he held her moments ago. And when the first orgasm she had ever experienced swept through her, surprisingly devoid of ecstasy, Willow managed to nonetheless bring forth a moan of pure sensual pleasure. It was the least she could do for the only creature who had ever loved her. And if it was like this forever, Willow would have no regrets and no complaints. Compared to the sacrifices she had made for nothing throughout her short, sad life, this was no sacrifice at all.
~Part: 10~
Angelus slowly pulled Willow's body up the bed so that she was in a half-seated position, her head nestled against his chest. He felt her wince slightly from the soreness between her legs and he made a mental note to carry her when they left the apartment that evening. For he was more certain than ever of his plans: take Willow with him, keep her safe, and find a secluded hideaway for the two of them, a place where not even his childer could find them. For after what he had just experienced of Willow, he knew that he wanted to spend a great deal more time exploring the realms of physical pleasure with the enchanting little redhead.
The taste of her release had been glorious, mixed as it was with the traces of her blood that had remained in her channel. But even sweeter were the emotions he had sensed pouring off of her in waves: gratitude, relief, joy, and reverence. He would never tire of the company of a girl like her. She had come to mean more to him somehow than a source of physical gratification. Her deference, her sweetness, her intelligence, her innocence, which remained in spite of her defloration; all of these things combined in her to create the ideal companion with whom to spend eternity. He began to think that he even loved her.
Willow lay in the crook of Angelus' arm with her head against his chest. She marveled at how odd it was not to hear a heartbeat. How ironic that the only creature to ever show her the slightest tenderness was a soulless demon whose heart hadn't beaten in almost two and a half centuries. She wondered what he was thinking about, but decided not to dwell on her fears. He would tell her what she needed to know. And she trusted him. Strange to trust a lover whose courtship began with a brutal rape, but Willow had convinced herself that it had been her fault for failing to accept his advances. So perhaps trusting Angelus was not so strange at all.
Being held in Angelus' arms was the most marvelous feeling Willow had ever experienced. And the fact that her orgasm so obviously pleased him made her feel wonderful, as if she had finally figured out the rules to the game she had been playing all her life.how to get someone to love her. It felt as if his arms were a fortress, protecting her from all her thoughts, all her fears, all her memories. She could easily lose herself in him, and that was just what she wanted most in the world.
Angelus came out of his thoughts with a renewed sense of purpose. Now he would talk to his little treasure, tell her how things would be, assure himself of her loyalty, and assure her of her place in his unlife. He looked down at the curtain of hair hiding her face from his gaze as she lay with her head nestled against his chest. He knew she wasn't sleeping, but she seemed lost in a reverie of her own. So he spoke gently to bring her back to him. "What are you thinking about, sweet Willow?"
"You," she answered simply and quietly, her voice clear, yet uncertain. As if she was unsure of what to say. Or if she should say anything at all.
"Me?" Angelus questioned. "Not your family or your friends?"
"I don't have any friends," Willow bitterly replied. "And my parents don't think about me. Why should I think about them?"
The pain and sense of rejection in Willow's voice poured over Angelus like a bracing shower of rain. Here was the confirmation he had needed that Willow's loyalty was now his completely. As much as he hungered to hear more about her feelings for the sorry group she had once called friends, he decided to be merciful and allow her renunciation to be enough, for now. Later, he would encourage her to pour her heart out, to tell him the whys and wherefores of her realization that none of them were really her friends. Perhaps he could even induce her to help him plot their downfall. But for now, he would give her a respite. After all, tonight had been rather tumultuous emotionally for her already. Best to talk of other things.
Her insecurities returned as Willow heard Angelus question whom she was thinking of. But then again, how could she blame him? She had foolishly rejected him that very night. It was only natural for him to be uncertain of her affection and loyalty now. What could she do, what should she do, to convince him that she thought only of him? That she only wanted to be his forever? She decided to take her cues from what he said next, and hoped that she would say the right thing in response. So far, she had managed to do everything right since he had comforted her earlier. She just prayed that she continued to do so.
She looked into Angelus' eyes and realized that he wanted her to say more. So she steeled her nerves and said, "I was thinking about you. Just you." She could see in his face that he was pleased and Willow visibly relaxed. She had told the truth, and he had believed her. Maybe everything really would be all right after all.
"And what were you thinking about me, sweet Willow?" Angelus purred, though in his mind he already knew the answer. He could almost taste the desperate insecurity of the fragile girl in his arms and he knew she was wondering what would become of her. Would he keep her with him? Or would he abandon her, throw her back into her pitiful mockery of a life? He knew, for some reason, that she wasn't worried that he would kill or turn her anymore. And he realized that was because those things no longer frightened her. It was being alone that terrified her, alone without him. Well, it was time to put his sweet girl's fears to rest. And to tell her what her life would be like from now on.
~Part: 11~
"And what were you thinking about me, sweet Willow?" Angelus asked.
"I.I.nothing really," Willow said with some trepidation. She was afraid that telling Angelus that she had been wondering what his plans for her were would anger him. That it would make him think she didn't trust him. Or that she was questioning him. And that might make him go away. So she stammered her incoherent reply and hoped for the best.
Angelus immediately understood what Willow meant and crowed inwardly once more. His precious girl was afraid of angering him with questions about what his plans were. This certainly boded well for their future together. She displayed such a delightful sense of deference towards him. He pulled a blanket up from the foot of the bed and tucked it around the little redhead. Solicitude, he felt, would go a long way towards assuring her that his plans for her were all for her own good. He felt her snuggle closer to him as he wrapped her up, and despite losing his view of her delicious body, he smiled inwardly at this gesture of trust and affection from his little consort. "Willow," he said. "It's time to talk about what things will be like from now on."
He felt her stiffen slightly as her fears returned. A part of him enjoyed this power he had over her immensely. Knowing that he had the power to instill fear in her not with torture, but with the threat of his leaving her, gave him a sense of incredible pride. Here was proof that she was the perfect mate for him, a creature of such intense devotion. There was nothing he could do to her that frightened her more than the thought of being without him. And this was the kind of devotion for which he had always yearned. His thoughts lit briefly on Drusilla and he was filled with disdain. She was nothing compared to his Willow. Her capacity for love and fidelity was nonexistent compared to the wondrous creature he had found almost by accident. Well, this really had been no accident, he decided. It was destiny. His destiny.and Willow's.
"At nightfall, after you've rested, we will be returning to the factory."
He could feel the uncertainty radiating from Willow, but he was deeply gratified by her hard-fought struggle to contain herself and not show her trepidation. Wonderful indeed how she instinctively wanted to trust him and knew that showing that she did so would please him. But he decided to allay her fears quickly.
"You'll be completely safe. No one can harm you or even so much as look at you without my consent. Do you trust me?"
Of course he knew the answer to that question already, but he so wanted to hear her say the words and reinforce his claim on her.
"Yes, Angelus," Willow said. "I trust you."
And as Willow snuggled into Angelus' cool embrace, she knew that it was true. She did trust him. After all, hadn't he shown more compassion and concern for her in the past few hours than everyone else she had ever known combined had done in her entire life? Hadn't he held her and soothed her and calmed her? Hadn't he done his best to please her and undo the effects of their first, brutal coupling? And whose fault had that been, anyway? Hers, for not accepting his attentions and his caresses the way she should have. But he had forgiven her for that. Perhaps he understood that, after the way she had been shunted aside all her life, being treated the way he had treated her would confuse and even frighten her. That she hadn't understood. But whatever his reasons had been, he had forgiven her. And he was still lying here beside her. He had tucked a blanket around her to keep her from getting cold. She could never remember even her own mother tucking her in. But Angelus had. He cared about her so much more than anyone ever had before that it overwhelmed her. And so she trusted him.
Angelus found that hearing her pledge her trust to him as she lay in his arms was even more glorious than he had thought it would be. The sound of her sweet, clear voice was music to his ears. He would never tire of hearing it. Her friends, he recalled, had always dismissed her speech as 'babble'. 'Fools,' he thought to himself. They preferred to listen to their own strident braying, deficient though it was in both sound and substance, rather than open their ears or their minds to the dulcet tones and charming words of the sweet girl they had always neglected. Well that was their loss, and Angelus couldn't be happier about that. For their loss was most assuredly his gain. And the prospect of an eternity spent listening to Willow speak to him in such devoted, worshipful tones was a delightful prospect indeed.
"You need to rest for awhile, 'til tonight," Angelus said as Willow began to relax fully into his embrace. "Then I'll take you back to the factory with me. My childer need to know about you, and that you're mine. Mine alone, sweet Willow. Never forget that. Now sleep, you need your rest. It's been a long night. We'll talk more later."
Willow looked up into Angelus' face and nodded. She no longer had the strength to speak, anyway. He was right; she needed her rest. Suddenly, the effects of the night's events caught up with her and she was consumed by fatigue. Sleep had never sounded more welcome to her. Normally, Willow slept fitfully. In fact she rarely slept more than three hours at a time. But today she knew she would sleep deeply and well. And when she awoke, Angelus would be there. So Willow slipped quickly into the deepest slumber she had ever known.
As Angelus gazed down at the sleeping girl, he marveled at the changes in his unlife that had been wrought that night. He had set out looking for a diversion and instead he had found his destiny. And what a marvelous time was in store for him, he thought. Days spent in a cozy hideaway, enjoying the body and mind of his lovely Willow. Nights spent terrorizing Sunnydale by exploiting the weaknesses of the Slayer and her moronic cronies. Without the help of the hacker, they would surely be easy to defeat. And it would be even easier with the assistance he was certain she would more than gladly give him. He placed a chaste kiss on the forehead of his sleeping consort and drifted off to dream of a glorious future with Willow by his side. Sunnydale would never be the same again.
The End