Warnings: Rape
Pairing: Willow/Angelus
Summary: Dru captures Willow as a gift for Spike. But then the plan goes awry.
Feedback: Please. I just want to know if people are reading my stories at all. Thanks.
Distribution: If you have permission to archive my previous work, you may have this. Otherwise, please ask first.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.
Author's Notes: This was written for Inell's birthday. She asked for dark Willow/Angelus and I hope this fits the bill.
Author's Notes Two: Thanks are due to Kat for the beta and support; and to all the people who have ever sent me feedback and kept my will to write strong.
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"You'll make a lovely present for my Spike, little tree."
"Well, what have we here, Dru?"
"She's mine, you bastard."
". . .too good for you. You don't know how to treat a lady. Not a prize like this."
"But daddy, she's for Spike."
The voices all echoed in her head, jumbling together in a chaotic melange that made little sense as she tried to piece together the events that had brought her here. It was the pain that made it so hard to think, Willow was sure; the sensation of silk sheets rubbing against the raw wounds on her back; the feel of shackles on her wrists and ankles; the shame of being naked and spread open to the hungry gaze of Angelus.
And then there was more pain, agony and shame worse than ever before, as the vampire moved between her legs, invading her with his cold, hard cock, tearing through the barrier of her innocence. She screamed. She screamed so loud that the sound seemed to turn into something substantial as it bounced off the walls and into her mind, hurting her ears and making her cry even more bitter tears as the pain of those cries was recognized as her own.
Angelus began to move inside of her, thrusting and groaning and telling her how good she felt; how tight and hot and perfect she was; how she would have been wasted on Spike. And wasn't she glad that he had taken her for himself instead? Oh, how much fun they would have for so many days to come. Until he tired of her, of course, though he didn't see that day coming for a long while.
Then the words stopped and Angelus' thrusts picked up speed and force, causing Willow renewed pain and bringing forth fresh screams. Fangs were buried in her neck and, as blood was drawn from her throat, cold, wet seed filled her cunt.
As blood continued to leave her body, Willow thought that, despite his earlier words, it might all be over. And she thanked whatever deity was listening for hearing her prayers and giving her over to death. But then the fangs left her throat and Willow felt mocked and humiliated anew, as if Thanatos had just proven to be as brutal and sadistic a lover as Angelus.
She watched through tear-filled eyes as Angelus moved his head between her thighs, and her shame compounded as he plunged his tongue between the lips of her sex, tasting the mixture of her blood and his release, licking and sucking as if it was the most delicious ambrosia he had ever consumed.
Then it was over. He had tasted his fill. Willow closed her eyes as Angelus stood and preened in satisfied arrogance before putting on a fresh set of clothes and moving back over to the bed.
"I hope it was as good for you as it was for me, Willow," he smirked, running his hand softly down her cheek in a parody of tenderness.
The mocking laughter that followed filled Willow's mind. This was her
always, she thought. And she wondered if being drained of tears would kill
her as easily as being drained of blood.
The End.