Part 37

Later that night...

Willow paced around the Hall, occasionally running the tips of her fingers against the objects she passed: the cloth upon a small  tabletop, a row of books along the shelf, anything and everything as she tried to sort the confusion in her mind. The Vessel was dead.
They'd prevented the Master from escaping, but he wasn't going to stop trying - that was for sure.

She picked up a paperweight, turning the cool smoothness over and over in her hands. Gazing into it's clear depths she wished that the crystal orb could show her the answer to her question. The source of the confusion that now plagued her. (Why did Angel kiss me?) It didn't, of course, and she put it back down, feeling slightly disappointed.

"Why did you kiss him?"

The question so closely mimicked her thoughts that for a moment Willow was confused. It was Aaron's voice, and why would Aaron's voice be in her head? But no, the question came from _behind_ her. She turned to see him staring, that strangely hot look in his eyes that she had first seen that night at the Bronze.

"I didn't kiss him. He kissed me."

Something flickered across his face and a low growl erupted briefly from his throat. But it was abruptly cut off, silenced, as if it had been voiced against his will.

She was lying. She stood there, more beautiful than the moon against it's starlit background, and lied. He had waited patiently for months, doing whatever she asked of him simply because _she_ asked it, waiting for her to show him even just a little sign of her  favor. He could have waited forever, but she had to go and give herself to Angelus.

He couldn't wait any longer, didn't _want_ to wait any longer. Aaron's muscles tensed. His beautiful Lady was nothing more than a girl, but she was as dangerous as anything he'd ever come across. A fatalistic attitude fell upon him. Why wait, if by waiting Angelus won her?

"You didn't stop him."

The truth hit Willow as hard as if she'd run into a wall, because no matter what she told herself, Aaron was right. Angel may have initiated the kiss but she hadn't pulled away. She could have stopped him and she hadn't even tried.

"I think that if I don't do this now, I will never do it at all."

Willow was startled. She hadn't seen him move and now he was standing in front of her, his voice quietly determined, close enough to touch. (Do what?) The words seemed to stick in her throat as he leaned closer. She pushed them out but what she said was without
thought, the realization of what he meant to do and her rising fear making her say something entirely different.

"I can stop you right now," she warned him in a hoarse whisper. "All I have to do is shout and I can have everyone after you, or I could simply kill you. Don't you know that?"

"I know that." He shut his eyes for a moment and then reached out to touch her. His fingertips brushed back a lock of her hair. "But I don't think that you will. I don't think you would do that to me." Suddenly his fingers were tangling themselves in her hair, and he was kissing her. His lips brushed across hers, trying to get her to open her mouth, the pressure growing increasingly hard.

Willow tried to push him away, using all of her strength, but he didn't seem to notice. (This is _wrong_! He shouldn't be kissing me.) That feeling of wrongness turned to revulsion as Aaron continued. His kiss felt nothing like Angel's, and Willow couldn't bear it anymore. She let the feeling ride through her and projected it into Aaron. He fell back a step as it washed through him.

"You don't have permission!" Her hand shot out, backhanding him across his face.

Aaron watched as she backed away, his entire body shaking, trembling with the desire to close the distance between them once again. He was angry. Willow had hurt him. Blood was trickling from his torn mouth, his lip was cut and the blood was staining his clothes. Willow kept moving, keeping her eyes on him until she reached the door, opened it, and called for Eric.

He made no move to stop her. Maybe he was afraid to try.  His face was blank, no emotion showed, but he had to be furious. He  probably wouldn't be able to kill her, but Willow didn't feel like taking any more chances. Her pet had misbehaved for the last time.

Even as she watched, amber flickered like lightening in the depths as he glared balefully, his eyes full of frustration and futility, and a wild kindling anger. Willow's words shredded the tense silence like slivers of glass, her composure as fragile as fine crystal.

"Get him out of here."

Aaron hadn't protested. He'd left. But Willow remembered the last glimpse she'd had of him. The heat that had always been in his eyes had been gone. They had been cold. Willow shivered.

"Mistress?"

Willow turned to the sound of Eric's worried voice. "What?"

"He's gone."

She should have been relieved, but instead there was nothing except exhaustion and uneasiness. "Eric, I'm going home. Take care of things around here, okay?"

With a trembling hand, Willow grasped the doorknob, gave it a decisive turn, and drew the door to Angel's room open. She needed to  ask him why, and he was the only one who knew the answer. Soft light from an oil lamp cast her silhouette, making it dance over the floor and walls, the disrupted light shifting and reflecting off the highly polished mahogany of the armoire, dresser, and the bed. At first glance, the room had seemed dark, but as her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness she saw the beauty that surrounded her.

The room was stark in it's simplicity, the furniture straight and sturdy, the draperies and bed hangings unpretentious. In the poor light the walls looked cream-colored, as did the draperies, reminding her of the silk shirts Angel sometimes wore. Indeed, the whole room seemed a mirror reflection of him, solid and comfortable, painted in shades of burnished darkness and tawny gold.

Angel stood before the window, one arm braced against the wall, head bent, a booted foot resting on the sill. Her gaze settled on his shoulders and the breadth of his back, where his dark T-shirt, stretched taut by his raised arm, molded against him like a second skin. Studying him, she recalled his gentleness, the many times he had touched her with a caress so light it made her breath catch.  (Why did he have to kiss me? We're friends! Why does he have to change everything?)

Willow moved toward him, her heart thumping hard in her throat. With each step she took, a little voice whispered inside her head, "There's no going back." She'd told Angel she loved him before and she did. Her love for him had been a gentle glow that warmed both of them. They shared it and gloried in their friendship that guaranteed an end of the loneliness they had both faced in their lives. Actions spoke louder than words. Her parents, whenever she saw them, always told her they loved her. right before they left. They never stayed. Was that love? Angel had almost always been there, in her life, a constant source of comfort. Was there a difference in the type of love he offered? Was he offering love? She had always been content with the affection he gave her and that she'd given freely in return. She had seen no need to change.

Until he'd kissed her.

He had seemed almost desperate to touch, to hold, to stroke.

Why?

What had brought on the change, so sudden and so dramatic?  What was the _reason_?

Why?

It seemed to be the question of the day. Willow wasn't one to be denied answers, so she'd come to the one man who could offer her an explanation. She didn't find it ironic that she sought reassurance from the very person who had thrown her into such turmoil. It was  natural that she turn to him.

Angel glanced up when she reached him, and as she had so many times before, Willow looked into his eyes. They were a rich dark  brown, so deep and clear she could get lost in them. She came to a halt several steps shy of him, stunned by what she saw.

His eyes...tonight there was something more than warmth reflected in those dark depths, an awful bone-deep sadness. It drew her closer. Her overwhelming need for answers faded, overshadowed by the need to comfort her friend, to discover the source of his
sadness. She took his hand, threading her fingers through his, her heart aching.

"What is it?" she asked him softly.

His gaze skittered from hers, staring out the window into the night. His mouth tightened and he swallowed, as if he were on the verge of speaking. But in the end, he remained silent.

Willow squeezed his hand gently, and his eyes closed savoring the touch.

"I need...About tonight...I need to explain. I don't want you to ever think that I'd ever make you do something you didn't want to do. I don't want you to be afraid of me."

Willow caught his face, turning him to look at her. At her touch, he opened his eyes, apparently startled. His gaze, darkened with emotions she couldn't quite define, met hers.

"I wasn't afraid, Angel. I was shocked, and surprised, but I could never be afraid of you. I trust you."

That got his attention and as if he found her answer mildly amusing his mouth quirked slightly at one corner as he continued to regard her...and saw that she really meant what she said. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, tightening his hand around hers. He grew  suddenly sober. "I believe you do. And you _shouldn't_! I'm a murderer."

Of all the things Willow had expected him to say, that wasn't it. She stared at him in stunned disbelief, convinced she must have heard him wrong. The stricken expression on his face told her otherwise. "Oh, Angel..."

His grip on her hand grew more bruising. "I meant to do it.  There weren't any accidents. Hundreds, _thousands_. Can you imagine it, Willow? Thousands of people dead because I killed them," his voiced lowered to a whisper. "I took pleasure in killing them.  Night after night after night. Children, Willow. I killed children. I hurt them."

Willow didn't try to draw her hand from his. Despite the pain of his grip, she was afraid to move for fear of she'd distract him, stop him from talking. As though a dam had finally burst, the ugliness was pouring from him. He scarcely paused between sentences to draw breath as he spoke.

"Not all of them screamed...when I killed them. Some just stood there, frozen. The children...they usually screamed. For over a hundred and forty years I killed whoever crossed my path. I drank them all up, or spilled their blood to the ground. The funny part, the funny part is that with all of the people I killed you wouldn't think I'd remember every one. But I do. God help me, I do."

He let go of her, falling silent and stared at his palms, his gaze growing distant with memories. Willow's throat went tight at the haunted expression that crossed his face. "What changed?"

"My Sire brought me a present, a beautiful gypsy girl about your age. I played with her a little, amusing Darla, and then I drained her dry. Somehow her family found out how she died. They cursed me to know the pain of humanity, to know guilt for my actions, and to do that they gave me back my soul. Then I met you...seventy years later."

He looked at her and all she saw in those now amber depths was pain. An awful pain that had been with him for far too long.  Unable to stand seeing him look that way, Willow caught his face between her hands. Tears, shot through with gold by the light, trailed over his cheeks. He dropped to his knees in front of her, looking up into her face. "I thought I'd lost you tonight. Every time I think about that happening...it makes me..."

Willow couldn't bear to let him finish. His words had brought back that strange rush of emotion she had experienced earlier, and once again it drove rational thought from her mind. No longer was her mind plagued with questions, worries, or doubts.  There was just an overwhelming need to be with him. Without weighing the possible consequences, she covered his mouth with hers and kissed him with a ferocity that startled her nearly as much as it seemed to startle him. Whatever else he meant to say spilled with his breath into her mouth. He tasted sweet. His lips beneath her felt like cool, wet silk. Remembering how he had kissed her earlier that night, she touched the tip of her tongue to his. He groaned. It erupted from him, raw and ragged, with such force that it vibrated clear through her. She explored him, tasting, trying to get closer, to meld them together so that there would be no distinguishing which was Willow and which was Angel. They would be one.

Finally, desperate for air, she broke the kiss, tugging gently on Angel's hair. Air rushed between them, cooling her heated flesh.  Willow nearly moaned at the lost of his touch even though she was the one to pull away. Irritably, she cursed the need to breath.  She looked into his eyes and reality rushed back, smacking her in the face.

What had happened?

"Angel?"

But he was as bewildered as she. Searching her face, Angel abruptly realized that she was experiencing the same things he was.  But what was it?

"Angel, I don't know what's happening. I'm just feeling these...things. I mean, when you kissed me and when..when I kissed you, its just like, um, wow and I don't know what's going on..."

Shocked, Angel listened to her babble. She really did feel it. That wild, uncontainable storm of emotion that paid no heed to reason. It demanded and he helplessly obeyed.

And it seemed she did, too.

"...I mean, is it love or lust or insanity..."

He jerked in surprise at her words. Love? Was this love?  Love was something he had felt for his mother as a boy, for Willow and Xander since they had been children. It was a soft, unassuming, gentle warmth that demanded nothing. It hardly bore any resemblance to this... undomesticated emotion. But the term 'love' seemed so _right_.

He stood up, looking down into her eyes. "Willow, I don't know what this is. I never expected it. It's new and I'm confused but, but I think I'm falling in love with you." He paused and smiled wistfully. "But I'll always be your friend. I promised, remember?"

She smiled weakly and Angel sensed the turmoil within her.  He could see that she felt the same but was just too scared to give her thoughts a voice. Angel pulled her close, cradling her against his smooth, solid chest. Gently, he ran his fingers through her hair and rocked her back and forth. It was okay. He could wait.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, too," she whispered, almost inaudibly, into his chest.

He stilled, hardly able to believe his ears. Wanting, needing to see her eyes, Angel tilted her face up to his...and saw bashful truth in her gaze. Angel felt as if he had unveiled something incredibly precious, immeasurably lovely, and so hoped for. He didn't analyze the feeling. He was just...happy. It bubbled up inside, the happiness chasing away the misery of moments before, and he laughed.

Willow couldn't help but smile in return at the warm sound.  She hadn't heard it in so _long_! A surprised shriek was startled from her lips as Angel scooped her up into his arms, twirling them around. Willow's laughter filled the room, it's sound unfeigned and unforced, eloquent in it's delight. Angel hadn't done that in ages!

They ended up sprawled out on top of Angel's bed, Willow breathless. He listened to the sound of her breathing as it slowly deepened, content to just lie next to her.

"Angel?" Willow murmured, almost asleep but not quite there. Something was tickling at the edges of her tired mind, something she should know.

"Go to sleep, little one. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

(Darla.) The name floated up from the depths of her subconscious mind...(Angel knows her.)...just as sleep finally reached up and drowned her.

Part 38

When Willow woke, she found herself wrapped tightly in anAngel blanket.Her head was pillowed on one of his arms and hisother was tucked around her middle, keeping her back pressed againsthim while one of his legs, thrown over hers kept her in place.Hisslow breaths gusted over the back of her neck, gently tickling.Shefelt incredibly safe and she didn't want to move, but gradually shebecame more aware of tiny discomforts that required her to.

The most pressing was a need to use the bathroom and then anitch that felt like something was crawling on her back.(I need abath and to get out of these clothes!)If someone had asked,sleeping in leather would definitely _not_ be on her most recommendedto-do list.

Willow tried to gradually ease out of the bed without wakingAngel.Moving slowly, she freed herself and stood, looking down atthe first man she'd ever shared a bed with.Angel was beautiful,even as he frowned his sleepy disapproval at the loss of her warmth.  He looked so close to pouting that Willow nearly laughed aloud.

Stifling the giggles, she ran for the bathroom.

The Library; after school

"Be that as it may, something is not quite right about thatgirl," Giles said."She's hiding something!"

"Maybe so!Maybe she is, but so what?Giles, I want afriend.She already knows I'm the Slayer.Seriously, what else isthere for her to find out?She already knows my one big deep-dark secret...Willow hasn't tried to kill me yet and I say that'sdefinitely a plus for a friendship," Buffy exclaimed heatedly.

Giles looked startled."Kill you?I didn't, uh, I don't.."He took off his glasses, giving them a few brief swipes with a whitehandkerchief before looking at Buffy once again, his eyebrows raised."Kill you, you say?"

Realization lit Buffy's eyes and they widened as sheremembered that he didn't know about Willow."Oh."

"Oh?"Giles repeated questioningly, suddenlyconcerned. "_Did_ she try to..to, um, kill you?"

"No," she replied, the word long and drawn out.

"Then, for God's sake, what is it?" he asked with no smallamount of exasperation.

"Willow's a witch," Buffy mumbled.

"What? I don't believe I heard you correctly."

"Willow's a witch!"

"A witch."Giles put his glasses back on and gave his Slayera hard look."Do you have any evidence on which you base thisconclusion?"

"Well, she told me, and the night I met her - when she wentoff with a vampire that night at the Bronze - I asked her if shewanted me to walk her home, and she said that it wasn't necessary.Then she made something in her hands glow blue."

"I see, and that's it?"

"No," Buffy said thoughtfully, "not now that I'm thinkingabout it.That night Luke, the vampire - the one that was theVessel, called her a witch.They seemed to know each other, and notin a good way either.He seemed kind afraid of her.He was justabout to bite me and Willow yelled, and he just said some reallyweird stuff.He didn't really _do_ anything after that.He justleft."

Giles was worried about letting the girl get involved withhis Slayer.Even knowing the girl was a witch who posed no threat tohis charge, he still felt that there was something else that she washiding.But if she was needed to help Buffy in her fight, shewouldn't be completely helpless and he didn't want to deny his Slayerthis due to nothing more than an unfounded feeling.Of course, if hedid try to deny Buffy the girl's friendship...well, there really wasno way to enforce what he ordered.Better to allow it with goodgrace.

"No!"Angel screamed, protesting the images of his dreams as memoryand fear mingled.Willow dead upon the floor of the Bronze, herthroat torn out.His own screams woke him to the empty house and thetatters of the nightmare slowly fled.He drew a steadying breathinto a throat raw from screaming and raised shaking hands to hisface, tracing the unmasked ridges and the wetness of tears on hischeeks.

His quivering gradually subsided and he loosed tense muscleswith an effort that had him near hysterical laughter.Darla wouldhave had him whipped had she seen him reduced to tears by nothingmore than a dream.The thought brought Angel to painful calmness.

He got out of bed and looked at the clock. The sun wasalmost down.Neither Willow nor Xander were home.The image knifedthrough his mind with terrible clarity, nearly bringing him to hisknees.(What if it wasn't just a dream?What if it was a warning ofwhat was going to happen?)Angel's hands clenched into fists and hegrowled without even noticing.He wouldn't _let_ it happen!

Angel stalked up to the lair that was once his, brushing pastDavid, who seeing Angel's expression, didn't even try to stop himfrom going inside.

The first person he recognized was Sydney.Her face wasshadowed as she leaned against the wall near the corner, but lightglinted off the blade of her knife as she flipped it into the air, catching the hilt as it fell.He didn't think any of the others hadsuch a fondness for blades.

She wore a loose, frilly white shirt tucked into tight blackpants, and her hair was much more practical - bound back in a singlebraid that hung well past her shoulders, rather than loose like thenight before.

"What are you doing?"

The dagger disappeared so quickly that Angel wasn't quitesure of where she'd put it as she gave him her fullattention."Waiting."She smiled sweetly at him.

Curiosity briefly overrode is urgency to get to Willow as hewondered about her age.There wasn't the slightest trace of demonabout her, and he had yet to see amber color her eyes.She wascertainly no fledgling.

"Where's Willow?"

"Out."

"Do you know where she went?"

"Nope."

Angel nearly growled.If his own shortness of speech washalf as frustrating he was going to have to learn to talk more.Hegritted his teeth and tried again, "Do you know where Eric is?"

"Yep."

He was only seconds away from howling with frustration whenSydney laughed.Her eyes sparkling with delight, she took pity onhim."He's in the Hall with a stranger."

"Show me."

"Where is the Master that I may hear his wishes from his ownlips? So that I may beg to be redeemed?"

"There is no Master.He has been replaced by the Mistress,"Eric stated patiently for the third time.He was convinced that theother vampire's brain had turned to mush in his old age.It reallywasn't all that hard a concept to grasp, but he was patient.TheMistress would want him to be.

"I will have no more of your lies!"The armor-clad vampirewalked toward the dais on which Eric stood.He held up his arm, theone that ended in a claw, and shook it at him."Speak the truth or Ishall tear the tongue from your mouth, rip open your gut, and readthe answer in your entrails!"

Eric crossed his arms and said though clenched teeth, "Thereis no Master!"His patience was gone, not even the Mistress put upwith threats.

The other advanced, growling savagely.

A roar echoed down the corridor, accompanied by a crash.Angel pushed Sydney behind him and they raced down the hallway,heading straight towards the door that the noises continued to comefrom.A knife in each hand, Sydney gestured for the crowd around theHall's entrance to move out of the way."Somebody go get David," sheordered.(Idiots!Good-for-nothing cannon fodder!Just standingaround...)Muttering curses under her breath she followed Angel in,holding her knives in a too-tight grip.

She nearly dropped them both a moment later as Eric camesailing towards her head.Ducking, she rolled out of the way, thenwinced as he crashed into the bookcase behind her.She wasn't sure which was going to cause her more trouble: Eric's injured pride orWillow's broken bookcase.He got up growling, fangs bared as herushed at the stranger.The pride, she concluded.The Mistress, atleast, could be reasoned with.She snorted softly with amusement asEric flew into the bookcase again, silently thankful that he stayedthere that time.(Now what?)She sighed.

The sweet tang of the smell of blood brought her back to thefight.The stranger was licking his claw clean and it hadn't beenEric's blood spilled either.(Oh fuck me!I just _had_ to think it,didn't I?Couldn't have left well enough alone.The Mistress isgonna have a hissy fit over this bit of mess.Fuck!Her Angel'shurt.)A minute later Sydney almost dropped her paired daggers asecond time that night - this time in shock as she saw the greatAngelus lose his temper.

The stranger must have recognized him because when headdressed Angelus as Darla's useless childe, that was when Angelusreally lost it.He didn't even wait to hear the rest of what theother was going to say.

The vampire - after Angelus was finished ramming him intoWillow's nice new wallpaper, a table, and a few chairs for goodmeasure - landed almost at her feet.She saw Angelus panting, hisfists methodically clenching and loosening.She looked around theshambles of what was the Lady's throne room and decided not to wasteany more time.

Sydney sheathed her knives and grabbed the nearest chair,smashing it down over the stranger's head...just as David and severalof the guards arrived.She groaned.(Great, just _great_.)

Angel ordered a couple minions to take the unconscious bodyto one of the back storage rooms.A windowless one.It was reallytoo bad Eric had protested, a stake would've taken care of himnicely.Now, they were just waiting for Willow.A pity really thatthe wall hadn't been just a _little_ harder.

Angel remembered Zachary very vividly.He had been one ofthe Master's favored warriors - until he'd put his hands somewherethey didn't belong.Darla had objected to him forcing his attentionson her new childe and she'd brought the problem to her Sire.TheMaster had had Zachary banished - after cutting off his hand.Angelremembered being _very_ happy afterwards that he was Darla'sfavorite.He smiled grimly at the memory.(Who knows...if Zacharystays around I may have another chance to introduce him to a stake.)

His smile relaxed into a grin as he watched Sydney hover overEric, not offering any help but there in case he needed it.She'ddo.Angel walked over to Eric and clapped him on the back.He saw Sydney turn her startled eyes his way.He could almost hear herasking, "What now?"

Zachary woke up in a small, windowless, dimly lit room thatsmelled of dust.He was laying on the floor and his armor waspressing into the most uncomfortable places.Standing up took someeffort.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he looked around.(Blood will tell and it looks as if the Master's blood still runspure.)He walked towards the door and listened for a minute butheard nothing from the other side of the door.Zachary reachedtowards the knob and smiled as he turned it gently.(It's almost toobad Angelus has no one but idiots working for him.)

He opened the door, just a crack, his predatory gazesearching the outside hall.There was only one guard posted by hisdoor.He didn't even seem to be paying attention.(Oh look, I getto play...)Zachary grinned.

It was almost nine when Angel arrived at the Bronze.He wasalmost afraid to enter, afraid of what he'd see, but with Sydneybehind him...

He steeled himself before entering the club.He had to warnWillow about Zachary.The new bouncer waved them through.Angelsighed with relief as he saw that everything looked normal.

Too soon.

"Well!Look who's here!"The voice behind him dripped withsarcasm.Angel jumped, covering his surprise as he turned to see theSlayer behind him.He hadn't known she was there.(The kitten'sshowing her claws...)

However, his reaction was nothing compared to that of thedark-haired woman who'd been following him.She was now all buthiding behind Angel's back, peeking around his broad shoulders at theblond.Angel's lips twitched with suppressing a smile at theperplexed expression on Buffy's face.

"Hi."

She visibly shook herself as she turned her attention back toAngel."I'd say it's nice to see you, but we both know that's a bigfib."

"I won't be long."

"No, you'll just give me some warning about some exciting newcatastrophe, and then disappear into the night.Right?"

"Well..."

"Look, if you're going to be following me around everywhere,could I at least have a name?"

"Angel."

"Angel," Buffy repeated, tasting the sound."Pretty name."

There was an awkward silence.Buffy found that she couldn'tlook at him.If only he weren't so gorgeous!She looked down,avoiding his eyes and was surprised to see blood trailing down overhis hand.Her eyes narrowed.It looked like it was coming frombeneath his jacket.She looked back up to his face.He didn't evenseem to notice the blood.

"What happened?Are you okay?"Buffy's questions were lacedwith agitation.Angel noticed her quick glance at his hand andlooked down.There was blood.He shrugged off his jacket to examinethe wound.Funny, he hadn't noticed any pain.

"I'm fine."

There were a series of cuts on his arm and Buffy grabbed hishand, turning his arm to look closer."It doesn't look too bad, butyou really ought to get that stitched."She continued to hold hishand and looked back up into Angel's brown eyes."Are you sureyou're okay?"

"Yeah, I just didn't pay attention."

"To somebody with a big fork?"

"A small oversight on my part."

"How could you miss it?"

Angel grinned at her and Sydney growled from behind him.Heturned, still grinning, to see her staring at Buffy's hand grippinghis.He hushed her, worried that the blond would hear, then turnedback.

Sydney scowled at the Slayer, then smiled her sweetest andthreaded her arm around Angel's, forcing him to pull his hand away.She looked up at him, satisfied.(Good.Maybe that'll remind himwho he belongs to.Flirting with the Slayer, what is the Mistressgonna do with you?)

Angel untangled his arm from Sydney's, giving her a puzzledlook, then answered Buffy's question.Sort of.

"Don't worry about me.You're the one he's probably gonna beafter next."(Or Willow...)

"The Fork Guy?"

"Don't let him corner you.Don't give him a moments mercy.He'll rip your throat out."

"Okay, I'll give you improved marks for that one.Ripping athroat out, it's a strong visual.It's not cryptic!"

Angel wiped the blood from his hand and put his jacket backon.(Where is she?)He glanced around the room and caught a flashof red.Willow was sitting at a table with Xander watching him talk to Buffy.She looked angry.Xander looked...shocked?

"I've got to go."

(Well, that was rude.)Buffy watched him for a minute thentook her time following when she saw that he was heading towardsWillow and Xander.By the time she reached the table, Angel hadalready asked Willow to dance.

"Hey Xander."

Buffy waved and sat down but Xander didn't pay her anyattention.His eyes were glued to the couple on the dance floor.(Ican't believe this...I just can't believe this!Willow and Angel?Together.My two oldest friends...dating?Does a two hundred yearold vampire date?)

Buffy rolled her eyes as he ignored her.(What is going ontonight?)

Willow looked up into Angel's face.He was watching someonebehind her and she just _knew_ that he was watching Buffy.He lookedworried.Tiny bands seemed to be wrapping themselves tighter aroundher heart, poised, ready to rip it to shreds at the command of theman dancing with her.Then something clicked._Angel_ was dancing -in public - and he looked worried.(Well, he should be!)

They swayed to the slow beat of the music as Angel watchedSydney fingering a knife as she stood behind Buffy. But he wasdistracted by the way he could feel every inch of Willow that waspressed against him. He was aware of her in a way he had never beenbefore and she was...stiff?"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

(Okay.What have I done?From the tone of her voice I did_something_.)"Is this about Zachary and your throne room?"

"What are you talking about? What happened to my throne room?"

Angel groaned softly.(Good going, idiot.)"Well, yourwallpaper has a few smears on it.Tiny ones!Hardly noticeable!And one of the tables kind of rocks now...and the paperweight thatwas on it is a teensy bit chipped...and, um, your bookcase..."

"My bookcase!What happened to my bookcase?!"

"Well, you see, an old acquaintance of mine stopped by thewarehouse and tried to kill Eric.I knew him a long time ago, beforeI got my soul.He's not nice, Willow.We tried to keep him locked up but he escaped and since Eric told him that you're the Mistresshere...I think he's going to try and kill you next.Which is why Iwant Sydney with you until we catch him...to protect you."

He paused for a bit, thinking.Completely missing the theexpression on Willow's face which was getting darker by thesecond."You know, having you move into the lair might not be a badidea, either.Or maybe Sydney could just move into the house withus."Angel considered the dilemma silently, trying to figure out thebest option.

(This is just too much!)"Angel, I don't need a bodyguard!I'm not moving into the lair and Sydney is _not_ moving into thehouse with us. There's already three people living there!What doyou want Sydney to do?Sleep at the end of my bed like a dog?IfZachary's such a threat, why don't you and the Slayer go stake him?And why'd you let him escape in the first place?"

"I already told her about him."

Willow went stiff again. "Yeah, I saw.And I suppose youjust _had_ to hold her hand to do it, huh?"

(What?Oh!Is that what she's angry about?She's...jealous?Willow?)"The Slayer was just looking at my arm.Zachary scratched it up a bit in the fight.It's only a little cut,but she insisted on seeing it after she saw some blood on my hand."

The minute Angel mentioned that he was hurt Willow forgother jealousy.Concerned,she started tugging at his jacket, tryingto make him take it off, but Angel brushed her hands away."I'mokay, Willow.It can wait until we get home."

"Fine."

Willow grabbed his jacket sleeve and started pulling him tothe door.

"Hey Xander?"

"What?"

"Does Willow always pull Angel around?"

For the first time that night Xander looked at Buffy."Uhhuh.She pretty much bosses everyone around."Xander grinned andstood.He started to walk away, then paused."Gotta go." Her smiledover his shoulder and walked away.

Sydney smirked at the Slayer and followed along behind,leaving Buffy sitting at the table by herself.

Angel walked softly into Willow's room.   She was sleeping, one hand curled under her cheek, her hairtrailing over the edge of the bed.She looked fragile, childlike,and very precious to him.Angel smiled to himself.She'd been sojealous of Buffy at the Bronze.He was pleased and flattered - andmore than a bit smug.It wasn't for him to tell her that Buffy, forall her golden beauty and sensuousness, didn't have even theslightest attraction for him that his little one held.She wouldhave to figure that out for herself.

Angel bent and kissed her lips with a tenderness that helonged to show her when she was awake.Willow smiled gently, sighingsoftly in her sleep.Angel had to smile back.Maybe he wouldn'thave to wait much longer.

Part 39

Aaron sat on the edge of a clearing.His head was tippedback onto sore shoulders and rested against the rough bark of a treeas he watched the moon climb above the treetops. It was little morethan a sliver in the sky but the light painted the trees silver-gilt,creating shadows that slowly crept across the ground.The parkswings squeaked in the distance, pushed by idle gusts of wind.

He stared, dull-eyed, up at the night sky as an agonized furyheld him frozen.A single night, just one of thousands, and yet itreeked of more endings than the night he'd died.Then, he'd beenreborn.Now...his chances were forever destroyed; his choicesnarrowed down to leave or die.

The Mistress' mercy was cruel.He had no real choice.He'dleave, of course.There was no doubt in Aaron's mind that if hedidn't, if he stayed, sooner or later his path would cross withsomeone of the clan: Eric or Angelus, maybe even Willow.(Iwish...)He bit into his bottom lip.(No.It is done.)Bloodfilled Aaron's mouth, it's rich metallic-sweet taste brought him to arealization: he was hungry.Aaron got to his feet.

He was still angry, but he'd been angry before.He began walking.He'd been this angry before.

He always felt better after he'd killed someone.

Aaron looked down at the girl trapped in his arms.His facewas blank, the taste of her blood still on his lips.Her mouth wasopen, gasping pitiful airless screams.Her fear and loathing wereplain to see in her glazing eyes.He smiled, letting the girls fallto her knees with one of his hands wrapped around her throat to holdher upright.

He stared into her eyes.Then came a twist, a sound, asnap.The girl was dead.Her open staring eyes were lifeless anddull, her head wrenched to one side at an impossible angle.

There was clapping behind him and Aaron whirled around.Hisgaze narrowed, focusing on a small blond schoolgirl that seemedsomehow familiar.He licked the blood from his lips and smiled.Sheapproached him, a delicate hand covering her mouth - as if she wereshocked, her eyes wide with mock horror.

"The big bad vampire isn't going to hurt me, is he?"

"I was thinking about it," Aaron said deliberately.

"Then show me what you can do, stranger," she taunted.

Aaron stepped forward.A small hand lashed out at him.Theblow caught his cheek and sent him flying.She made Angelus looklike a puppy.The blond waited as he rose to a crouch and lungedforward.A contemptuous sweep of that same hand swatted him down.

She laughed, delighted.If Angel was a puppy, Aaron was nothing morethan a fly - a small annoyance.He remembered her now.They hadfought in the Bronze, but now he wondered how he'd survived.Hisnose was bleeding, his chin was cut and he thought his jaw was broken.

He rose to his knees as she approached again.She grabbed afistful of his hair and tilted his head back, laughing again.

"You and I are going to get along just fine."Darlasmiled."How would you like to meet the Master?"

"Yes," Aaron agreed absently as his eyes focused on somethingthat only he could see.There was a smile on his hard face butmadness sparkled behind his eyes at the thought of taking action, ofdestroying Willow.If he couldn't have her, why should anyone else?His face twisted.He began to laugh, louder and louder until hiseyes no longer saw anything around him, seeing only the vision ofWillow's blood.Anticipation made him quiver.

Aaron had a new Mistress.

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