Then and Now

Author:  Kat (a.k.a. KallieRose)

Parts: 11 - 20

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~Part: 11~
 

The harsh ringing of the telephone was the thing that finally woke Willow the next morning.  Instinctively she reached for the phone, pulling it from the stand next to her bed and setting it against her ear.

"Hmmmm?" she said, still trying to shake the cobwebs from her brain.  For some reason, logical thought seemed to be just about impossible at the moment.   Why the heck was that?

"Willow?"

It was Jenny on the other end, the concern in her voice making it sound sharp.  'Time to paste on the typical Willow cheerfulness,' she thought hastily.

"Hi Jenny," she answered, injecting a little bit of enthusiasm into her voice, even though she suspected it didn't really fool her teacher.

"Are you all right Willow?  It's not like you to miss class, so I thought I'd better check in and make sure you're okay."

A quick look at her clock told Willow that it was coming up on 11am, a fact that shocked her.  She must have forgotten to set her alarm last night.

"Oh shit," she said, as the dull throbbing pain between her legs reminded her that there were other things that she had forgotten last night.

"Willow!  I didn't think you even knew such words!" Jenny teased her.  The young gypsy seemed to be under the impression that Willow's muttered curse was related to her sleeping in and missing school.  Willow wasn't about to disabuse her of that notion.

"I'm sorry!  I just was really tired last night, and I stayed up late. But you were there, so you know that.  And I guess I forgot to set my alarm, and then I didn't wake up, and-and I forgot to call and I'm sorry--"

"Stop, no more, I believe you!" Jenny said laughingly, working desperately to stop Willow before she went into full-fledged babble.

"Um, okay," Willow tried to hide the relief in her voice.  Apparently she succeeded, because when her friend spoke again, it was with a voice that held a lot of laughter, and just a small hint of concern.

"So, you're okay?  Can I tell Giles you'll be in after school for more research?  I think I've got the first half-dozen ingredients translated, so you guys can start with that.  Giles will send the others out on a wild goose chase or something, so we can concentrate."

"Great!  I'll be there," she chirped, mentally calculating how much more sleep she would be able to get before she had to be up to meet them in the library.

Jenny said her good-byes and hung up, leaving Willow alone with her thoughts.

Willow tried to stretch, but the pain between her legs made her wince and she decided that she really didn't need to stretch after all.  She knew that she ought to get up and take a shower, maybe even do some studying or try to make it to her last couple of classes.  But the bed was so warm and comfortable, and her body was so tired, that she made it only as far as the bathroom, and then back to bed.

~~~*~~~

It was mid-afternoon before she woke again, and this time going back to sleep was not really an option.  Willow knew that it was past time for her to think about what had happened last night, and try to figure out how to keep it from happening again.

Angelus had fucked her.  Sure, she could pretty it up by saying they had 'made love' or 'had sex' but she would be fooling nobody with such a statement.  They had fucked...there had been no emotion between them other than lust.  Well, maybe there had been a bit of fear and a smidgen of curiosity on her part, but certainly not the kind of affection or love that she had always imagined her first time would involve.

She always thought that her first time would be centered around someone she loved and cherished, someone who cared for her and would move heaven and earth for her.  Instead, she had wasted that precious gift on a vampire who was out for a quick fuck.  Even worse, a vampire who was only using her to get back at her friend.  Shame and regret flooded her body as her mind replayed every caress she had given him, every kiss they had shared, and every thrust of his hips that she had met with her own.

God, how could she have done that?  Sure, he was an evil demon and he hadn't really given her much choice.  But after an initial weak attempt to fight him, she had responded to him, had encouraged him, she had even cum for him.  What sort of a person was she?  Had she been so easily ruled by her lust that sensible thought had completely left the building?  Whatever excuses her feeble mind came up with would not be enough to compensate for the horror and self-loathing she felt right now.  Her actions had been wrong, and she knew it.

And what about Buffy?  Buffy was one of her best friends, and she had thrown that away without a second thought.  She had slept with the one man that meant more to her friend than life itself.  Well, she had slept with his body.  The person within was nothing like the Angel they all remembered and missed.  God, why do things have to be so complicated?

She got up and headed for the bathroom, hoping that a burning hot shower would rid her of the feel of his hands on her body; his cock inside her, and his fangs on her breast.

Oh god!  The bite mark.  She looked down at her breasts, and there it was:  twin punctures surrounded by angry red skin.  She ran her fingers lightly over the flesh, surprised and horrified when she felt a tingle of lust rush through her.  "STOP!" she yelled aloud, terrified that such an innocent gesture could invoke such strong feelings within her.

Her mind gave her body simple commands:  Turn the water on.  Hot.  Hotter.  Get in.  Hope that it distracts from everything else.  Please!

Willow soaped and rinsed, scrubbing the flushed skin harshly in an effort to erase the memory of his body against hers, as she cleaned herself of his touch.  She washed and dried, brushed and spit, and through it all she kept her mind busy with extremely sensible thoughts:  what she needed to do in school, upcoming tests, study sessions, even the periodic table of elements.  ANYTHING to keep her from thinking of those things she was trying so desperately not to think about.

Her short walk to the school, usually a time spent in thought and quiet reflection, seemed to take forever today.  Doubts assailed her, and her feet moved slower and slower.  What if her friends found out...what would they do to her?  What would they think of her?  The wedge that seemed to be driving her away from them would completely break them apart if that happened, and she didn't think she could bear it.

But they would never know, Willow tried to convince herself.  She would never tell them.  Never ever.  And Angelus--oh god, he would probably tell Buffy the first time he saw her.  Seducing Buffy's best friend would be the feather in his rather full cap, the piece de resistance in his attempt to break the slayer.  Of course he would tell her.  It was just a matter of when.  He would wait for the best moment - the time when it would have the deepest impact on her.  Angelus was a master tactician.

Willow's only hope was that they could resoul him before he had the chance to spring his surprise.

~~~*~~~

Progress had been made tonight, and for that Willow was incredibly grateful.  Jenny had given them a shopping list of items for the spell, and they had managed to secure them all.  Willow had tackled the task with ingenuity and a single-mindedness that had surprised the two adults, and she had managed to secure one item that Giles himself had been unable to find.

There was one problem that they hadn't counted on, however:  The Orb of Thessulah.  When Jenny had mentioned that they would need one, Giles had looked rather sheepish and mentioned that he had one in his office.  He had apparently been using it as a paperweight.  Orbs were few and far between these days, so they had all been grateful that the Watcher had one on hand.

However, his look of sheepishness had turned to one of disappointment and anger when he entered his office and reappeared with the pieces of a broken orb, along with a note from Xander, apologizing for sitting on his 'pretty shiny thing.'  Giles had practically shook with anger at the boy's carelessness, but Jenny managed to calm him down, suggesting that Willow might be able to find one online.

Sure enough, there were two of them on eBay, and with the help of Giles' credit card, they would soon become the owners of a brand new orb, or rather an ancient, tried and true orb.  Subject to three to five days shipping, of course.

Willow wondered idly whether she would be alive in three to five days.  If she looked at the question in a purely clinical way, it was easier not to be afraid.  She had no illusions about the fact that once the time was right, Angelus would kill her.  Last night was just--just a vampire killing time, she thought bitterly.  Once he decided that Buffy was ready, he would kill Willow and leave her body, no doubt violated and drained of blood, to be found by her best friend.

The thought crossed her mind that she could tell someone what was happening to her, but she knew that she wouldn't.  Ever since he had begun concentrating his attentions on her, he had left Buffy and the rest of them almost completely untouched.  If she removed herself from his influence, she had no doubt that he would find some other way to punish Buffy - probably something involving Xander or Giles.  She couldn't bear for either of them to be hurt, especially if, in some twisted way, she was partly responsible.

So Willow did the only thing she could.  She kept silent.

~Part: 12~

"So what's got you so downright cheerful this evening?" Spike asked curiously, as he observed the wide smile on Angelus' face.  His sire had been in a bloody good mood ever since he had woken that afternoon, and although Angelus in a good mood was often enough to breathe fear into the hearts of lesser vampires, for some reason Spike wasn't alarmed today.  Angelus' mood was more of a mellow happiness than an 'I just had the best idea to end the world' type of giddy excitement, and for that the blond was grateful.

"Life is good, me boy, life is good," Angelus crowed, letting just a bit of his Irish brogue creep into his voice.  "So tell me, how are those legs of yours doing?  Ready to bag another slayer yet?"

"Making progress," he allowed, rolling the wheelchair over to the edge of an old wood table.

Under the curious eyes of his sire, he moved the chair's footrests to the side and pushed his arms down onto the armrests, then straightened them slowly. The muscles in his arms stretched and bunched, working to take the majority of the pressure.  He carefully came to his feet, balancing there for a few seconds before turning slowly to smile at his sire.

The approving gaze in the darker vampire's eyes made him wish that he could do more, push himself to progress more quickly, but the protesting muscles in his legs persuaded him to sit back down now, before he made a fool of himself and fell down on his arse.  He would continue to practice in the privacy of his room, where nobody could see his weakness.

"Quite a lot of progress you've made there," Angelus nodded, impressed.

"Speaking of progress," Spike said with a slight smirk, "How goes it with the virginal Willow?"

Angelus smiled evilly, looking like the proverbial cat that caught the canary.  For the briefest of moments, Spike almost felt sorry for the redhead.  She had seemed such a shy little thing.  He wondered what she would look like when Angelus was through with her.

"Not so virginal anymore, my sweet little Willow," he replied, the smile widening with pride.  "She didn't even know what hit her.  So very innocent.  And her blood, Spike.  I've never had anything like it.  It's amazing," he purred, his eyes closing as his mind flashing back to the sweet, spicy flavor of her.

"So what's next on the agenda?  Leave her body on the slayer's doorstep?"

Angelus shot him a sharp look, eyes flashing amber.  "Eventually," he said finally.  "But not for a while.  I'm not through playing yet."

~~~*~~~

Angelus wandered the streets of Sunnydale, his steps sure and confident.  He was in command of this town, and everyone, except a certain blonde slayer, knew it.  A slight frown crossed his face as he passed by the house of one Willow Rosenberg.  It was well after 2am and he knew with a certainty that she would be home.

The plan had been to leave her alone tonight, to give her time to berate herself for her foolishness and stew in self-loathing.  And yet, of their own volition, his feet had taken him to this place.  To where he knew she would be waiting.

Surely it wouldn't hurt to take a peek, just a look, to make sure that she was there.  After all, if something were to happen to her, his plans would lie in ruins and he would have to start all over again.  Yes, a quick look would be justified, he convinced himself.

He climbed the trellis to her balcony, his movements betrayed only by the changing shadows as his body moved closer to its goal.  The curtains over the window obscured his view, making it difficult to see the woman within.  But he heard her heartbeat, slow and steady as she dreamed.  He wondered what she was dreaming about.  Were they happy dreams full of sunshine and friends, or something darker, more sinister?  She moaned softly as the sheets rustled against her skin, and he wondered if she was dreaming about him.

His hand curved around the doorknob, turning it quietly and slipping into the room.  Everything looked exactly as it had the previous night, including the sweet young woman curled up tight beneath the covers.

Moving silently, he grabbed the chair he had used the previous evening and placed it next to Willow, sitting and staring down at the sleeping redhead.

As if she had sensed his eyes on her, her eyelids fluttered open, and bright green eyes regarded him sleepily.

"Angelus?"

"You were expecting someone else?"  His voice was low and a thread of humor ran through it.

"I wasn't *expecting* anyone," she said, frowning.  Waking up with a master vampire hanging over you could definitely be disconcerting.  And NOT something she wanted to make a habit of.

She struggled to sit upright against the headboard, hoping that would help her to feel a little less vulnerable.  The movement reminded her of the soreness she still felt between her legs, and she flinched just a bit.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and masculine pride.  His fingers snaked under the covers and between her legs, pushing her underwear down to her knees.

She attempted to squirm away from him, but he laid his other hand down on her abdomen, pressing her into the soft sheets below.  "Stop that," he admonished softly, watching her eyes as they darted about the room, never quite settling on his face.  He was fascinated with her expressive face, using it to gauge her level of pleasure or discomfort.  His fingers darted around her sex, stroking teasingly one minute, thrusting deep within her the next.
"Willow," he called, waiting until her eyes returned to his face.  "Would you like to cum?"

His fingers began a gentle gliding motion within her, while his thumb caressed her clit.  The little nub was soon hard and tender, and Angelus could see that her eyes had the glazed look of someone who is about to give in to passion.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, speeding the movement of his fingers.  She was close, and soon her mouth opened, emitting a low moan of pleasure.  Her body went taut, and her inner muscles caressed his fingers as they moved within her, prolonging her release.

Willow closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the lassitude she felt as her body began to relax.  How could something that was so wrong feel so damn good, she wondered.  Her confused eyes met Angelus' fathomless gaze and seemed to ask for answers.

"What is it?" he asked curiously, wondering what kinds of thoughts consumed her mind at a time like this.

"It's, no, nothing.  It's nothing," she said, too embarrassed to say what she was really thinking, yet too honest to make up something just to appease him.

"I can't answer your question if you never ask it," he told her.

"It's not like I can expect you to be honest anyway, Angelus.  Everything you do is part of a plan, isn't it?  A measured, calculated plan to hurt Buffy," she accused bitterly.

Ah, he thought, the wonderful trappings of guilt.  He recognized the symptoms well; after all, he had spent the last several decades watching the soul struggle with just that emotion.

"Good old Buffy," he said teasingly, a nasty edge to his voice.  "The good friend who does nothing but betray you and hurt you.  And yet you still feel guilty; I bet you even feel like you've wronged her, don't you?"

"Haven't I?" Willow asked sadly.  "This whole thing," she waved her arm, encompassing the room, the scene, him, her, and who knew what else, "It's wrong, Angelus.  Maybe it feels good, but it's still wrong."

"And yet on some level, deep down where you push all the unpleasant thoughts that you don't want to acknowledge, it makes you happy.  Doesn't it?"  He looked at her, daring her to lie; daring her to deny what she felt.

She was silent for a moment, her eyes taking on a far-away look.  "Maybe it's not so much that it makes me happy, as it is that it gives me something I think is lacking in my life right now," she said slowly, trying to organize her thoughts and feelings into something that she could explain aloud.

"It's just that, I feel like life should be this bright, shining adventure, full of excitement and interesting discoveries.  I mean, I'm not getting any younger.  This is supposed to be the best time of my life, isn't it?  But I seem to be stuck in this humdrum existence, always doing what is expected of me, and maybe I'm getting just a bit tired of it." She stopped a moment, waiting for his reaction.

Angelus smiled slightly, sensing that she had more to say.  He nodded his head, waiting for her to continue.

"There should be more to life.  And for everyone else, it seems as if there *is* more.  Like, everyone else is dancing to this really cool music, but for some reason I just can't hear it.  And sometimes, when I do catch a bit of the melody, it still leaves me empty inside.  Why is that?  What's wrong with me?  Why can't I be like everyone else?"

She looked at him with a mixture of emotions in those clear green eyes:  embarrassment at having exposed so much of her inner turmoil, fear of his reaction, curiosity, and just the slightest bit of hope.  These were questions that had plagued her for years, and she despaired of ever finding the answers.

Angelus reached out a hand, running it lightly along the curve of her jaw in a soft caress.  The derision she had half expected to see in his eyes was absent; instead, his gaze was almost gentle.

"Willow, you're unique.  You may not hear the music that others dance to, but you see colors that they can only dream of."  He glanced at her, glad to see that for once she seemed to be accepting his words at face value, and not tearing herself down.  "Do you think that you're the only one who yearns for something more?  Well you're not.  You're just one of the few that is brave enough to admit it."

Her cheeks flushed faintly at the implied praise, and she seemed to hang on his every word.  Ever the eager student, he thought.

"But the important question is," he whispered, his lips coming to rest upon hers, "Are you brave enough to do something about it?"

He saw the confusion in her eyes, and pulled back, continuing with a quiet intensity.  "If the opportunity presented itself-the opportunity for something more, something better, would you grasp it with both hands and hang on tight, or would you hide behind your archaic ideals of right and wrong, good and bad, afraid to step outside of your self-imposed prison?"

~Part: 13~

"If the opportunity presented itself-the opportunity for something more, something better, would you grasp it with both hands and hang on tight, or would you hide behind your archaic ideals of right and wrong, good and bad, afraid to step outside of your self-imposed prison?"

The words hung in the air between them, demanding an answer.

"If you think that being a vampire qualifies as 'something better,' then I'll have to regretfully decline." Willow said at last, not allowing her emotions to color her words.  He was trying to play her again, she knew, and she was smarter than that.  At least, she hoped she was.

He looked at her without malice, a certain amount of regret showing in his eyes.  Regret for what, she couldn't be sure.  The wheels in his mind were still turning; even now she could see the plots and schemes dancing behind those soft brown eyes.  She waited for his next pitch, certain that it would only be a matter of seconds.  He didn't disappoint her.

"What do you see when you look at me?  Or at any vampire?  You see evil, correct?"  She didn't deny the claim.  He made a 'scooting' motion with his hands, and she reluctantly moved back, towards the empty half of the bed.  With simple grace he stood up and stretched, his muscles flexing and relaxing.  Then he lay down next to her, his long body stretched out on his side, head on his palm, as he thought about how to explain to Willow how wonderful her life could be.

His fingers reached out to play with a lock of her fiery hair, and he began to speak in a low, persuasive voice.  "Willow, there is a lot more to being a vampire than just being evil.  Admittedly," he smiled, "It's one of the perks.  But there's a lot more to it than that.  For example, there is a sense of freedom that you could never imagine."

He watched his words take root and grow behind those sharp green eyes.  She turned the idea over, looking for the flaws, and accepted it.  Time to build on the theme.  "There's no responsibility.  None at all.  No getting up early to go to school.  No work.  No doing chores, studying for school, taking care of the house, no 'shoulds' or 'have tos' or any of that other garbage.  You do what you want, when you want, how you want.  You answer to nobody."

"Nobody?" she scoffed, her agile mind seeking out all the things he left unsaid; the secrets he hadn't revealed to her.  "I would answer to anyone who was older, stronger and faster than I was!"

Something akin to respect danced in his eyes before he quickly subdued it.  She was just too smart for her own good, he thought ruefully.  Well, at least she would keep him on his toes.  "You would be my childe.  There would be very few stronger or faster," he stated surely, proudly.  "And certainly none smarter," he added, a gentle smile on his lips.

"Then I would answer to you," she remarked, her mind yelling at her to stop his conversation RIGHT NOW.  Her emotions, on the other hand, gave the matter some consideration.  What exactly would it mean to have Angelus as a sire?  He would be quick to discipline her when he deemed necessary, that much was certain.  But she suspected that he could also be tender, as well as fiercely loyal to one he thought of as his own.

Something about that appealed to the little redhead.  Certainly she had not felt that sort of loyalty or unconditional devotion in many years.  Her parents had pretty much opted out of her life.  They dropped by now and then for a quick peek, mostly to make sure she wasn't ruining things completely, and then they were off to another lecture.  Her friends, well, maybe that was a subject best not touched on.

Yes, it would be nice to have that kind of love and devotion in her life.  But looking at the demon before her, she knew that the price was simply too high.

"Sorry, no sale," Willow told him flatly, realizing from the look of satisfaction on his face that he had expected no other answer.

"Why?" she asked, confused.  If he had already known the answer, why had he asked the question?

Angelus came gracefully to his feet, sensing that it was time to leave.  The girl needed some rest, and he had things to do before daylight struck and he was trapped once more indoors.  "Idle curiosity," he admitted, a half-smile playing along the corners of his mouth.  "I wondered whether you would think about it seriously, or discard the notion without a thought."

"Sleep well, sweet Willow," he said softly, leaning over to place a gentle kiss upon her warm lips, before standing and walking to the door, his steps graceful and firm.  His final words, "I'll see you tomorrow night," sent her heart racing madly within her chest.  Whether it raced from fear or excitement, she couldn't begin to figure out.

~~~*~~~

Willow had been tired all day, thanks to her late-night conversation with Angelus.  She suffered through her classes in a sort of zombie-inspired sleepwalk.  Finally the drudgery had ended, and she had fled to the quiet safety of the library.  Buffy and Xander were, as usual, nowhere to be found.  While she envied them their ability to disappear whenever there was research to be done, a part of her admitted that it was easier this way.  She was becoming more and more angry about their lies, and pretending that everything was normal was becoming more and more of a strain.

By contrast, research with Giles and Jenny was much easier.  She could sit in her high-backed wooden chair, looking online for this ingredient or that, as Giles and Jenny did the real work of translating the curse.  And through it all, she could distract her mind from the confusing, traitorous thoughts she had suffered from lately.

The two adults seemed to be getting much friendlier again.  She was happy to see that Giles was working hard to forgive Jenny and blot out the anger and betrayal he had felt towards her when he had first found out who and what she was.  They took every opportunity to stand close to one another, to touch lightly whenever possible, and often they shared that secret smile when they thought that nobody else is watching.  Yes, Willow was happy for them.  They deserved some small amount of peace and happiness after everything they had been through.

Now if only Buffy would see it that way.

The blonde Slayer had stormed in that evening, her jealous eyes taking in the comfort with which the three of them worked together, and Willow could tell that they were in for some pyrotechnics.

"It's nice to see that my tragedy has brought you both closer together," she sneered, her eyes taking in the way that Giles' hand rested comfortably on Jenny's shoulder.  "Jeez, Giles, it sure didn't take you long to forgive her, did it?  Has she wormed her way into your bed yet?"

Giles turned several shades of red and purple before bringing his rage under control--just barely.  "Buffy, you have no idea what you're talking about," he muttered, quickly removing his hand from Jenny's shoulder and stalking towards his slayer.  "Ms. Calendar is helping us, helping you as well, and she deserves your respect.  If you can't manage that," he added, "At least try to keep a civil tongue in your head."

The look Buffy gave him was mutinous, but instead of unleashing her vitriol on the watcher, she turned her attention to Willow.  "You really need to get out more," she said simply, before twirling around and heading back out of the library, the heavy doors swishing soundlessly behind her.

"I'm terribly sorry," Giles apologized, his eyes taking in both of the women before him.

"It's not your fault, Giles," Willow reassured, trying to take the hurt look out of her friend's eyes.  He really *wasn't* responsible for Buffy's actions, although she knew that he often felt like he was.  Good old guilt would eat you alive if you let it.  Her eyes widened a bit, recognizing that 'wisdom' as something that Angelus would have said.  Maybe her association with him was rubbing off on her?

Jenny sighed and pushed back the chair, closing her laptop computer and coming to her feet.  "Well I think we've gone as far as we can tonight," she said, her eyes red-rimmed from the lack of recent sleep.  Dreams of gypsies and vampires had haunted her every time she closed her eyes, and she had finally given up trying to sleep.  Instead, she had poured those extra hours into translating the curse, getting it even closer to completion than the others knew.  There was maybe another night's work needing to be done, and then all they would need was the rest of the ingredients.

The one thing that would hold them up was the Orb.  The one they had located would be there in about three days' time, so they would have to wait until then before anything further could be done.

"Willow," Jenny said, calling the redhead's attention back to her, "I think we've done about all we can until the Orb shows up.  Why don't you take a couple of nights off and just relax.  I'll let you know when it's time to do the curse, all right?"

Willow looked surprised, but also grateful.  Maybe she would actually be able to get some sleep in the next couple of nights.  Well, until Angelus chose to visit her again, she acknowledged silently.  "Are you sure there isn't anything I can do to help you?" she asked uncertainly.

"I'm sure," Jenny confirmed, smiling slightly at the conscientious streak that the young woman always showed.  "Get along now, and have a good night's sleep for once.  From the looks of it, you could use it!"  The gentle smile on her face let Willow know that she hadn't meant the words to be offensive, and she acknowledged that with a smile of her own, before turning and walking out the door, her feet moving quickly to take her home.

~Part: 14~

Willow's eyes drooped as she slid between the sheets of her bed.  Unlike previous evenings, however, she had carefully checked all dark corners of her room for any sign of a vampire intruder.  When she was sure that it was just her in the room, she had finally shed her clothes, chose another of her oversized nightshirts, and climbed wearily into bed.  The moment her head hit the pillow, her eyes closed and she was lulled into a deep sleep.

She had known that the oblivion of sleep wouldn't last. And sure enough, after what only felt like minutes, she felt the bed next to her dip slightly, as if under the weight of, say, a large, tall vampire.  Her sleepy eyes opened slowly, not at all surprised to find dark brown eyes staring into hers.

"Did you know that you sleep like the dead?" he asked with a lazy grin.

"Sleep is nice," she mumbled, fighting to keep her eyes open.  When she saw his grin widen to a smile, her own lips crooked up as well.

"You can sleep when you're dead," he replied teasingly, watching her eyes pop open as he said the word 'dead'.  He had meant the words to be a joke, but they had instead reminded her of who and what he was.  It was probably just as well, he decided.

He moved closer to her, his body coming to rest beside hers, under the big fluffy yellow bedspread.  It gave them both a small measure of pride that she did not try to move away from him.  Having him so close to her had become almost normal.  How quickly she was learning to adapt was something that concerned her and impressed him.

His hand reached out to trace figure eights on her stomach through the cotton fabric of her nightshirt.  The rough scraping of his nail brought her eyes back to his, and this time there wasn't the slightest trace of sleepiness within them.

"Angelus," she breathed the word softly, and he wasn't sure what she meant by it.

"Don't tell me you don't want this," he whispered, bringing his head in to kiss her briefly.  "You have no secrets from me.  I can smell your arousal quite clearly."  He punctuated the last two words with feather-light kisses, his lips pressed briefly to hers, then trailed more kisses down her neck, to her pale, white shoulder, and down as far as he could before the nightshirt stopped him.

Willow was confused.  Her mind still maintained that this was wrong, but her body seemed to be taking its orders straight from Angelus' oh-so-talented mouth.

'Relax,' she told herself, 'Enjoy.'  He would be Angel again in a couple of days, and as long as she didn't do anything stupid, like piss him off, she should be just fine.  So why not enjoy what was happening to her?  It was almost like a vacation from reality, she decided.  Nothing that happened now would make any difference in three days time, so it wasn't even really real.

The sudden rationalization freed her body, and her hands reached up to imbed themselves in his dark hair, alternately massaging his scalp and teasing the short, spiky locks between her fingers.  Angelus stopped for a minute, looking down into her eyes.

"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly, his eyes solemn.

'Does a lamb trust a lion?' she thought nervously, trying to hide a slightly bitter smile.  "No," she whispered, "Never."

"Good girl," he replied approvingly, before moving to straddle her body, sitting squarely on her hips.  With lightning-quick reflexes, he grabbed first one of her hands, and then the other, and she heard two soft metallic 'clicks' as handcuffs encircled her thin wrists.  She was trapped, her arms secured above her head with the cuffs, which had been threaded through a metal rod on her brass headboard.  Her body moved anxiously, testing her captivity, but it made no difference.  She was caught.

Angelus watched her as she moved, a delicate butterfly caught in a spider's web.  "What to do, what to do?" he murmured teasingly.  Making up his mind, he seized upon her nightshirt, slowly ripping it down the center from collar to waist, leaving the two torn halves to flutter uselessly to her sides.  Her underwear suffered a similar fate, soon lying in a tattered lump on the floor.

His eyes glittered with lust as they focused on her soft breasts, leaning down to capture one in his cool mouth.  He laved the nipple with his rough tongue, enjoying the soft moans and labored breaths of the woman beneath him.  He bit down on the hard bud of the nipple, rolling it between his blunt teeth, and was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath and a wordless shriek.

Willow was drowning in sensations.  His teeth, his lips, even his cool breath all came into play as he teased and tormented her breast.  It felt wonderful, and awful, and amazing, all at the same time.  As soon as her brain tried to comprehend one of the feelings, another one crowded in, demanding to be felt.  Eventually they all just built into one sensation, something without a name, and she cried out in frustration and in need of more than just this.  Other parts of her body ached for the same treatment that he was giving her breasts.  The spot between her legs, for example, was a hot, dripping wet cavern, in need of Angelus' attention.

The dark vampire heard her cry and looked down to see the unfulfilled lust in her eyes.  He was happily surprised to see that she was giving herself to him so freely.  He had expected to see eyes full of suppressed need and self-loathing but instead they simply mirrored his own lust.

Her easy acceptance made him want to push her harder, just to see how much more she would willingly allow.  What else might he be able to do to her?  His eyes contemplated her form.  Her red hair shimmered with the moon's light; her eyes were hidden dark pools made of malachite; and her skin--her perfect porcelain skin, called to him like a beacon of light. His teeth itching to taste her, to mar the flawless canvas of her skin with little droplets of red.  A snack might be fun, he decided, letting his demon face emerge.

Willow saw his demon and horror paralyzed her mind.  It's too soon, she thought, her mind dulled and slowed by the terror she was feeling.  He couldn't kill her.  Not when they were so close to resouling him.  Just a couple more days.

The thoughts ran in circles around her mind, as her body struggled once more against the chains.  Her movements were noisy but brought her no relief.  Finally, weariness and defeat stilled her movements, and she looked up at Angelus with a plea in her eyes.

"Relax, little flame, you won't be dying tonight.  I just want a little nibble," Angelus told her, his voice soft and reassuring.  He had enjoyed watching her struggles, the movements bringing his cock to attention as he observed her frenzied attempts to free herself.  But mostly he was just itching for a taste of her blood.

"Promise?" she asked uncertainly, wanting to believe him, wanting to think that she was safe for another night.

"Promise."

He felt much of her tension dissipate, and leaned over her again to kiss her mouth, teasing her lips, licking and nipping at them until they opened and he could delve into her sweet mouth.  His tongue entered quickly, sweeping away her residual inhibitions, and soon she was kissing him back with a passion that matched his own.

His lips broke away from hers regretfully and began to rain soft kisses down the side of her neck.  He stopped at the tender skin between her neck and shoulder, and let his sharp teeth lightly graze her skin there, watching as a small trail of crimson pooled on the surface.  His tongue reached out quickly, catching the blood and holding it there, savoring it for a moment before swallowing.

She was delicious, a flavor filled with equal parts desire and fear and, strangely enough, trust.  The desire didn't surprise him, nor did the fear.  But the trust disturbed him.  He was a demon; he was *not* someone to be trusted.  His mind quickly went to work, trying to think of as many ways as possible to punish her for that trust, but his demon and his body were interested in obtaining more of the delicious elixir and decided that thoughts of punishment would have to wait.

His head moved from her shoulder to her chest, capturing her entire breast in his cool, wet mouth.  He felt her shiver beneath him, and then she tensed, readying herself for the insertion of fangs that she somehow knew was to come.  Not wanting to disappoint her, he sunk his teeth into the soft flesh, drawing a mouthful of her blood into his anxious mouth.  Delicious.

The procedure was repeated a half dozen times.  Sometimes the bites were deep, causing her to writhe beneath him.  Sometimes they were little more than a caress, and only a tiny pinprick of blood welled up to the surface of her fair skin.

Willow made an effort to hold her body still, her mind trying futilely to anticipate where the next attack would occur.  The first bite had been surprising in its gentleness, and his tongue had laved the skin around it, tickling her and stirring feelings of passionate pleasure.  She had been lulled into a false sense of security and had relaxed under his talented lips and tongue.  The second bite, the deep one on her breast, had hurt.  A lot.  But the stinging of his fangs had quickly faded and soon all she felt was pleasure.  Time after time he had attacked her with his teeth:  sometimes the bites were gentle, sometimes harsh, but always they brought her pleasure.

Angelus leaned back and admired his work.  She was still beneath him, her eyes half-closed but a small smile playing on the corners of her lips.  Several pairs of red dots now covered the front of her body, along with swirled designs of red and pink from where he had played with her blood.  He smiled in satisfaction, enjoying the picture before him.

But his cock was full of borrowed blood, and the taste of her had driven his demon crazy with lust.  He needed to be inside her, no preliminaries, no wasted time.  He inched his body back, soon sitting between her legs.  His fingers moved to her cunt, smiling as he felt the wetness that had pooled between her legs.  She was ready for him, her channel warm and wet around the fingers he thrust between her lips.

"Quit teasing me," she growled through clenched teeth.  Her eyes were open now, and for a moment he could have sworn that they were flecked with gold.  He blinked and looked again, but all that greeted him was the wide-eyed green that he was accustomed to.

"Be nice, sweet Willow," he admonished, his voice low and seductive.  "I could tease you for hours, leaving you on the edge of orgasm until you promised me anything, including your life, just to so that you could have your release."

She shivered at his words, wondering if he was right, or if the words were simply an idle threat.  Could she be driven insane by her own lust?  Was that possible?  It was better not to test the theory she decided, giving him a look of contrition and apology instead.

Satisfied by her penitence, Angelus quickly unzipped his pants, bringing forth his tortured cock.  He wasted no time with preliminaries, simply thrusting inside of her and quickly setting up a brutal rhythm.  Within less than a minute he was ready to cum, but he held back, thinking of anything he could to prolong his release, to make sure that they came together.

His fingers found her clit, attacking the little bundle of nerves with a vengeance.  He twisted, teased, and tweaked, watching her face for clues as to what worked best.  Her body began to tense against his, and he knew that she was close as well.

With a final thrust he came, holding himself deep within her as she crashed over the edge as well.  She whispered his name as she came, her channel clasping and releasing around him.

Their orgasms subsided and reality intruded upon them once again.  Angelus pulled his cock out of her, tucking himself carefully back into the leather pants.  He reached up and quickly released the cuffs, smiling as he watched the redhead nervously inspect her wrists and rub them gently, restoring the circulation that the cuffs had cut off when she had pulled so hard against them.

She watched him with curious eyes as he got off the bed and moved to the french doors, shivering as the door opened and the cool night air flowed across her naked body.

"I'll see you tomorrow, sweet Willow," he promised quietly, as he closed the door behind him and disappeared into the darkness.

~Part: 15~

The next morning was another difficult one for Willow.  She hadn't lost *that* much blood the previous night, but the feeling of lassitude she had had the morning after she was bitten the first time had returned, and she promised herself she would purchase some iron supplements on the way home from school.  Chances were good that Angelus would be souled in the next couple of days and that the pills wouldn't be needed after that, but it still didn't hurt to be prepared.

For the second time in less than a week, Willow missed her morning classes.  If she needed further proof that Angelus was a bad influence on her, she need look no further than that.  But she was secure in the knowledge that everything would be back to normal in a few days, and all she had to do was hold on until then.

The remaining classes crawled by at a snail's pace, and the redhead spent most of the time thinking of Angelus.  Oddly enough, her thoughts didn't dwell on their sexual liaison, but instead on how it had felt just to talk with him.  He seemed to have an actual interest in her.  When they weren't having sex, he still listened to her.  The things he said made her think about more than just the next demon to kill or what band was playing at the Bronze.  She thought about herself, her life, and what she wanted out of it.

Of course her treacherous subconscious whispered to her that Angelus' interest was probably just a means to an end.  Once he had what he wanted from her, once he had exacted his revenge on Buffy, he would leave her.  Maybe she'd be dead, or maybe she'd just wish she were.  Either way, it would still hurt.

~~~*~~~

The doors of the library swung open upon a charming tableau.  Willow wasn't all that surprised to see Xander and Cordelia in the middle of a make-out session.  It was just a matter of time before she caught them.  Not that she was stalking them like some deranged serial peeper or anything.  But she didn't think that they had been particularly discreet about their involvement lately.  She'd heard lots of rumors around the school during the last day or two.  After all, Cordelia *was* a cheerleader.  The gossip grapevine moved at turbo speed when someone had dish on a cheerleader.  And when that cheerleader was dating someone who was as popularity-deficient as Xander was, well, that went beyond 'dish' and straight to 'major dirt.'

Xander looked up to see Willow standing just inside the doors to the library, her eyes riveted on them.  He stood up immediately, a reflexive action, which dumped Cordelia onto the floor, since she had been sitting on his lap.  Buffy, who happened to be lounging in the corner filing her nails, let out a tinkling laugh, which earned her a sharp glare from the cheerleader.  Cordelia came gracefully to her feet to stand beside Xander, brushing an imaginary speck of dirt off of her short leather mini-skirt.

"I can explain!" Xander proclaimed, saying the words that every man caught in a compromising position will say without even thinking.

Willow sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded the brunette skeptically.  She watched him squirm for a moment, his mind tossing out one lame excuse after another, part of her enjoying his discomfort.  Finally she just let him off the hook.  "It's okay, Xander.  I know about you and Cordelia.  Hell, *everyone* knows about you and Cordelia."

"You do?" he asked uncertainly.

"They do?" Cordelia echoed, horrified.  "Like everybody who?  I mean, if it's only the geeks and losers like you guys then I'm okay.  But if the cool people know--"

"Jeez, Cordelia, way to squash a guy's ego.  You really ought to give classes," Buffy commented, her eyes flickering back and forth between the two lovebirds and Willow.

Xander walked over to Willow, putting a hand on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort.  "I'm sorry, Willow.  I know I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid that it would upset you."  His tone made it clear that he still felt that he had done the right thing, and a slow-burning anger began to build down deep inside Willow's heart.

"Jeez, Willow, if you knew about it already, why didn't you say something?" Buffy asked.  "I mean, we were all walking around on eggshells, afraid that you'd find out.  If we'd known that it wasn't necessary, then--"

"Then you wouldn't have bothered to lie to me?" the redhead interrupted hotly.  "Because that's what you did, you know.  You, my supposed friends," she said, raking the three of them with her eyes, "Lied to me.  Repeatedly."

The blonde eyed her friend critically.  "Wow Willow, overreact much?  I mean, this isn't really about you, you know.  It's about them, and if they didn't want you to know, then it's kind of their business."

Shock and anger clouded Willow's mind, amazed that Buffy could say something so stupid and just downright cruel.  The rage that had been slowly building inside her boiled over and her eyes began to flash in anger.  "Xander is my friend, Buffy.  Friends share things with each other.  Friends DON'T, however, LIE TO EACH OTHER."

"Well maybe we figured that if you were going to be all angry-puppy, then we'd just not tell you," Cordelia said snidely, and Willow wondered if the girl were actually trying to provoke her.  Maybe she thought that if Willow got mad enough, she'd storm out of Xander's life altogether.

Turning to Xander, Willow tried to make this about the two of them and their friendship, and in doing so she ignored the other two parties in the room, both of whom had their own agendas.  "Xan," she said quietly, looking into his face and trying to capture his skittish eyes with her own.  When the boy finally met her eyes, he seemed extremely uncomfortable.  "Xander," she tried again, "They're right.  I am angry.  I'm angry because you lied to me.  I mean, I tried to get you to tell me the truth.  Remember a couple of days ago in the library?"

She could tell that he was replaying that scene in his mind, and she knew that he believed her.  "I remember, Willow.  I'm sorry, I really am," he told her, pulling her into his arms and giving her a hug.  "I guess I was too big of a coward to tell you the truth, but I promise I won't do that to you again, okay?"

Willow pulled back away from her friend and gave him a sad smile.  "Okay," she agreed finally with a nod of her head.  "It's okay.  We're okay."

"Well it's about time all this drama is over," Cordelia said, grabbing Xander's hand and pulling him towards the doors.  "Let's get out of here before Giles shows up and wants us to do things with books," she hissed.

"The Bronze?" the blonde asked eagerly.

"Yep.  Come with?" Xander eyed both girls as he asked, the question obviously meant for both Willow and Buffy.

"Oh yeah," Buffy agreed.  "Hey Cordelia, you said that Jake broke up with Wendy, right?"

"Uh huh, and rumor has it that he has a thing for blondes," Cordelia answered, giving Buffy an encouraging look.  "Um, Willow?  You want to come?" she asked reluctantly.

There were quite a few things Willow wanted to do *to* Cordelia at that moment, but very few she wanted to do *with* her.  She made her face into a mask of regret, and murmured, "Tests next week, need to study."

"Oh c'mon Willow!  You can be the good study-girl some other time," Buffy teased.  "Now that everything's out in the open, and all is forgiven and stuff, let's go out and have fun like we used to!"

Willow remembered the 'good old days' at the Bronze:  watching Angel and Buffy dance, listening to Xander and Cordelia trading barbs with what she now knew was repressed sexual tension.  No, studying was beginning to sound better and better.  Plus, she was still wasn't happy with Buffy.  Telling the rest of the gang about her feelings for Xander had been unexcusably cruel, and although she was getting closer to forgiving them, or at least the Xander-shaped portion of them, the thought of going out and dancing as if there was absolutely no bad blood between them made Willow slightly ill.  And a little angry too, actually.  So she let them go, laughing and talking as they went.

Besides, Angelus was coming by tonight.  And the thought of spending time with him suddenly seemed much more appealing than spending time with them.

~~~*~~~

She had waited up for him this time, her nose stuck deep within the pages of a well-worn paperback.  Dickens, he noted without much surprise.  He had pegged her for a girl who knew her classic literature.  What a disparate pair she and Buffy were.  The blonde probably wouldn't know the difference between Tolstoy and Dostoevsky; probably thought War and Peace was a video game.

There was a hint of sadness behind Willow's curious green eyes, and he wondered if she had had another distressing go-around with her so-called friends.  "What did they do to you?" he asked curiously, smiling when the sound of his voice jolted her from her reading.

"Oh, Angelus.  Sorry, I didn't hear you.  Hi."  She laid the book down on the floor, before giving him her full attention again.  She gestured for him to sit down next to her on the bed, and although slightly surprised, he accepted her invitation.

"I finally told them, about how I knew about Xander and Cordelia.  You know, so they wouldn't have to go to the trouble of lying to me anymore."

"And it didn't go well?"

"It--Buffy--well, I don't like her very much right now," Willow finally admitted.  "She's not the person she was when I first met her."

"Maybe," Angelus said thoughtfully.  "Or maybe you're not the same person.  Maybe you've grown a bit, become more confident, and she's not comfortable with that."

Willow thought about that for a minute, turning the idea over in her mind.  "Maybe you're right.  Or maybe not.  I don't know anymore.  And right now, I don't really care either.  I just want to forget them all for a while," she finished, her voice a soft whisper.

"I have just the cure for that, sweet Willow."

~Part: 16~

They made love all through the night.  Sometimes it was wild and reckless, sometimes soft and strangely tender.  In between, they talked.  Angelus told her about living in England at the turn of the century, and she told him about growing up on the hellmouth.

"Biker gangs on PCP," he laughed, his face transformed from its usual somber countenance into a humorous smile.  "I never get tired of hearing that one," he admitted.  "I mean, have you *ever* seen a biker in this town?  Much less the cops making a bust for PCP."

Willow shrugged, admitting that he had a point.  The cops of Sunnydale were amazingly oblivious to all that went on in the town.  Sometimes she wondered about that.  Nobody could be *that* clueless, could they?

"Angel tried PCP once."

The redhead stared at him, caught by surprise at his admission.  "Oh, not on purpose.  God knows our somber souled half would never try anything like that on purpose.  No, he was taking a little snack off of a prostitute he found somewhere.  Serves him right; she was higher than a kite, and soon he was too.  He lost control completely that night and I got to come out to play.  The memories of that evening kept me warm and comfortable for months.  The mayhem, the sex, the blood."

"Angel went to a prostitute?" Willow asked, confusion furrowing her brow.  She was trying hard to ignore the rest of what he had said, concentrating on that one surprising fact.  "But I thought that perfect happiness..."

"Believe me, Willow," Angelus smirked, "Anonymous sex with a street hooker is not capable of producing 'perfect happiness.'  I mean, yeah, she wasn't too bad, as far as those types go, and she sure was a delicious treat afterwards, but if an orgasm was enough to bring out the beast, then I would have been back almost immediately."

Willow looked surprised, and Angelus laughed again.  "Oh c'mon, you don't think he lived like a monk all those years, do you?  Hell, he sure does a number on the girls with that 'oh, woe is me' act.  Trust me, he may have a soul, but brood boy still has *needs*."

She blushed at his suggestive tone, as she took a moment to think about his words.  In a way she felt rather sorry for Angel.  To have lived all those decades, indulging in sex only with nameless strangers, never allowing himself to experience any true intimacy or happiness.  It must have been incredibly lonely.  No wonder he got so happy when he was finally able to consummate his relationship with Buffy.

"Poor Angel," she thought, not realizing she had said the words aloud until she saw Angelus' face darken slightly.  "It's just, it must have been really lonely, all those years without anyone.  To live that long, and never know love," she said sadly.

Angelus shrugged, looking away from her.  "It was his choice," was all that he would say.

"So why is it that people find it easier to believe in invisible bikers on drugs than in vampires, I wonder," she pondered, bringing the subject back to something safe and familiar.

"It's a matter of control, of course.  If they believe it's just bikers, well, they can always lock their doors tight, put little bars on their windows, keep a gun, and maybe stay away from that odd-looking neighbor who owns a bike.  They know they can make themselves safe.  But with vampires....no matter how strong you are, no matter how many bullets you have in your gun," he paused, "I can still get you."

She shivered at the softly spoken words, knowing that he had worded his sentence the way he did to make a point.

"Does that thought scare you?" he asked silkily, reaching up to run a hand through her fiery hair.  They were lying naked, on their sides, facing each other as they talked.

"Wasn't it meant to?" she asked with a smile, answering his question with one of her own.

He chuckled, a deep, sensual sound, watching her face as the sound had the desired effect and her cheeks flushed slightly.  "It was supposed to make you a little hot, too."  He sniffed the air somewhat discreetly and smiled back at her.  "I guess it did."

Moving into the space between them, Angelus took her in his arms and kissed her passionately, his teeth and lips attacking hers as she yielded to him.  She rolled onto her back, pulling him on top of her, as his lips left hers and worked a trail of cool fire down her body.  He smiled at her delighted gasp as he teased her nipple, worrying the hard nub with human teeth.  His hand grasped her other nipple, plucking and twisting it cruelly as his teeth treated the other nipple with unusual tenderness.

The sensations were driving Willow crazy.  The pain meshed with the pleasure and she no longer knew which was which.  All she knew was that the sensations had her body writhing and thrusting in abandon, and she knew she wouldn't last long.

Angelus sensed her need and nudged her knees wide, before ramming himself deep inside her.  Her wordless cries spurred him on, as he set up a brutal pace, his mouth moving up to capture hers again.

Again and again he forced himself deep inside her, reveling in the friction of her tight, wet passage as it warmed his cold member.  She was so warm, so very hot as she clutched him inside her.  Her arms pulled his body closer to hers as she tried to devour him, set him afire with her passion.  Her hips thrust up to meet his and her mouth attacked his.

The silence of their coupling was disturbed by a low growl, and for a moment he wasn't sure which of them had made the noise.  His demon emerged, and he pulled back a little, looking for the traces of fear that he knew he would find in her eyes.  And there it was, shining brightly.  "Don't worry little flame, I'll only take a nibble," he said, his lips and tongue dancing on the flesh of her neck.  His hands came down on her shoulders, holding her still, as his teeth broke the smooth skin.  She moaned beneath him, the sensation pushing her into her orgasm, as her body shook and clenched beneath him.

As the taste of the delicious elixir hit his tongue, his own climax broke over him and he shot his seed deep inside her as he cried out her name.  Her blood was amazing, spiced with passion, release, submission and just a bit of fear. Only a bit, he had promised, so he regretfully withdrew, his tongue laving the marks and cleaning her skin.

Her eyes were beginning to droop, her sated body at last seeking the solace of slumber, and he realized that dawn was only an hour away.  Should he stay and spend the day with her?  Or should he leave now and head back to the mansion?

The thought of spending the day in a drafty old mansion just didn't sound that appealing when he held her warm body in his arms.  He would see his childer soon enough, and there was nothing else that drew him to that place, so perhaps he would stay here and spend the morning wrapped around the cozy redhead.

His decision made, he got up and grabbed the spare blanket draped casually across the foot of her bed and hung it over the curtain-rod of her window.  The glass insert of her french door was another problem, and a quick search of the bathroom turned up a spare towel that he used to cover that potential hot spot.

All necessary precautions taken, he returned to the bed, gathering the already-sleeping woman into his arms.  His eyes drifted shut as he allowed the sound of her heartbeat to lull him to sleep like a lullaby.

~Part: 17~

Willow woke surrounded by the cool embrace of a vampire.  A dark room greeted her eyes, confusing her for a moment.  She glanced quickly at the windows, which were usually covered only by her thin, practically sheer curtains.  Now they were dark, draped by extra towels and a spare blanket.

A quick glance at the clock told her that it was already early afternoon.  They had stayed awake talking, and well, doing other things, until nearly 5am, so she wasn't terribly surprised that she had slept so late.  A momentary panic raced through her as she thought about missing yet more school, but then she remembered that it was Saturday, and she could relax, or at least as much as one *could* relax when they were sharing a bed with a vampire.

Her eyes focused on the aforementioned vampire lying on his side facing her, eyes closed, and she wondered if he was really asleep.  There was simply no way to tell, what with the whole 'not breathing' thing that he had going on.  She attempted to move away from him, to put some space between their bodies, but when she tried to move his arms merely tightened their hold, pulling her flush with his cool body.

Why was he still here?  He had never stayed the night before.  Their relationship was so new and uncertain that any change in their routine was cause for suspicion and nervousness.  She watched him with uneasy eyes, starting slightly when his eyelids popped open without warning, his eyes capturing hers and holding them.

"'Morning," he murmured, reaching up to run his hand through her sleep-tousled hair.

She eyed him, confused and a little uncertain.  What did he want?  What did he expect?  Why was he still here?  So many questions waited to be asked.

"I can tell you want to ask me something," he told her with a smile, watching her face for clues.

Willow was silent for a moment, wondering which of her myriad questions to ask.  "Why aren't I dead yet?" she blurted out, immediately wishing she could take her words back.  Out of all the questions in her head, that was the one she had least expected to pop out.  Apparently her brain had had other ideas.

He quirked an eyebrow in response to the unexpected question.  "Didn't realize you were in such a hurry to, what is it they say, shuffle off this mortal coil."

"I'm not.  Totally not!" she assured him, cursing herself again for bringing up the subject.  "It's just, well, it's like waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know?  Makes me nervous," she confessed uneasily.

Why *was* she still alive, he wondered.  It wasn't that he didn't fully expect to kill her.  That had always been the plan.  It just hadn't happened yet.  What answer could he give that would satisfy her?  Was it because of the look on her face as she came?  Or the way that the moonlight made her hair look like a pool of molten copper?  Should he tell her that it was because he wasn't ready to turn her yet?  They all played a part in his somewhat unconscious decision to keep her alive a bit longer, but somehow he suspected that those weren't the answers she sought.

She would make a beautiful demon, he knew.  Her shimmering pale skin already gave her the look of one of his kind, and the contrast between her skin and her blood-red hair was quite stunning.  Luscious red lips just begging to be kissed would grow full under his attentions, and her long shapely legs brought her comfortably to chin level, where she would look up at him with those amazing green eyes of hers.  Sometimes, in his more fanciful moments, he was sure he could see flecks of gold already dancing in those orbs.

Yes, there was no doubt she would be beautiful.  He just hoped that the rest of the package would be as tempting.  The lessons he had learned with Dru were still fresh in his mind; insane vampiresses were good for torturing and punishing, but quite annoying if he had any wish of intelligent conversation.  He would have to be careful with Willow, since her staggering intellect and childlike curiosity were two of the qualities he prized the most.  She might seem full of strength and bravado, but underneath all of that was a gentle delicate spirit that he did not wish to be broken.  At least not yet; not until he had the time to do it properly.

His mind wandered to consider his childer for a moment.  As much as Spike could be a royal pain in the ass, one thing that Angelus had to respect was the loyalty and affection that the blond vampire had for his Drusilla.  Spike had taken the burden of caring for his mad childe off of his hands without a complaint, and had developed such a strong bond to her that sometimes Angelus was a little jealous.  As for Drusilla, she cared for her childe with a surprising intensity; her ruthless loyalty and gentle caring were both frightening and comforting.

The redhead was still waiting patiently for an answer, so he gave her one that was probably not very comforting, but still relatively close to the truth.  "I'm not through with you yet," he growled, pulling her closer, grinding his cool hard body against her own.  He watched as her eyes darkened with fear and lust, and knew that his own eyes were probably dancing with amber.

A soft growl grabbed his attention, and he looked at the young woman, slightly confused.  Had she just growled at him?

"Sorry, guess I must be a little hungry," she said sheepishly.  "That happens to us humans when we don't eat in over," she thought for a moment, frowning slightly as she counted backwards in her head, "Twenty hours."

This time when she moved to get up, his arms reluctantly released her, watching the blush that flowed over her face as she realized that she was naked.  'Amazing,' he thought.  After all the things that they'd done together, she could still get embarrassed over the thought of him seeing her body.

He saw the debate raging in her mind:  would she dive ungracefully for a robe from her closet, or stand naked before him and ignore her embarrassment?  A slight smile played upon his lips as he watched her come deftly to her feet, walking calmly to the closet and ignoring him altogether.  She selected a pale green robe that brought out the fire of her hair and the dark pools of her eyes, shrugged gracefully into it, and headed for the door.

Willow wasn't sure if Angelus planned on joining her downstairs, but just in case, she eyed the living room and kitchen with a critical eye.  As long as all the drapes were pulled everything should be okay.  Unlike the sheer drapes in her room, the downstairs rooms boasted window coverings that were long and heavy.  As long as they were kept closed, things should be safe for her guest.

"You can come down, if you want," she called up the stairs, wondering if he would take her up on the offer.  And if he did, how odd would it seem?  Angelus in the bedroom was something she was getting used to seeing.  Angelus lounging against the kitchen cabinets might take a little more getting used to.

She turned to the kitchen, her mind running over the actual food items she might find there.  Something quick and easy would probably be best, so she settled on making herself a simple cheese sandwich.  As she took the first bite of her sandwich, a sound behind her alerted her to the fact that she now had company.  Angelus stood behind her dressed in nothing but a smirk.

Her eyes wandered over his flesh, admiring the spare, lean look of his body and his pale, supple skin.  Her face turned red with embarrassment as her eyes swept lower, admiring his penis, which seemed to grow and rise under her appreciative gaze.

The look he shot back at her was laced with knowing and satisfaction, and it made the words she had planned to say stick in her throat.  "Sorry--I'm, um--I don't have anything to offer you.  I, um--well, you never stayed before so I didn't ever think to--"

"I think you have quite a lot of something to offer me," he purred seductively, using his body to back her up against the refrigerator.  She dropped what remained of her sandwich to the floor, her mind momentarily regretting the lost food.

"Angelus," she squeaked, her eyes growing wide as her body hit the front of the refrigerator.  She reached up and wound her hands around his neck, smiling as he brought his head down for a quick kiss.  But before the kiss could get too heated, the vampire stopped and stepped away from her.  "C'mere," he told her as he walked over to the white formica kitchen table.

Willow hesitated for a moment, wondering what he was planning, and then walked over to his side.  "Turn around," he commanded, placing his hands on her hips in order to position her as he wanted.  A hand on her back pushed her forward slightly, and the other hand pushed her robe onto her back, leaving her nether regions open for his perusal.

"Here?" she asked uneasily.  The thought of 'doing it' on her parents kitchen table just seemed - dirty.  And not in the fun way either.  But then she felt the pressure of Angelus' cock as it slid between the lips of her sex, and any further protest died on her lips.

"Here," he agreed comfortably, pushing himself deep inside her.  Obviously *he* had never eaten breakfast at this table, she thought suddenly.  And somehow she doubted that she ever could again either.

Angelus set up a fast brutal pace, slamming into her body as quickly and as completely as he could.  In this position she felt him enter her more deeply, and occasionally a twinge of pain would accompany his deeper thrusts.

The sound of her labored breath was all that broke the silence of the room, and the unreality of the whole scene stunned Willow.  Here she was, bent over the kitchen table, while Angelus pounded into her again and again.  A part of her mind accepted this as normal, as something that felt right, and that scared Willow as much as the thought that he would try to kill her before too long.

How had it happened?  How had this thing between them changed from something wrong and evil, to something that she could come to terms with; something she could even enjoy?  Was it simply because she knew that their liaison was temporary, certain to end once Angel had returned?  Had that given her the freedom to enjoy what he offered?

Or had she herself been changed simply by knowing him?  Had the taint of his evil colored her because she had refused to fight hard enough against it?

Perhaps she *had* changed.  She knew that she felt different when she was with him; like she wasn't nerdy little Willow anymore, but someone wild and free.  Sort of a 'damn the consequences, full speed ahead' type of gal.  Someone who didn't care what others thought; someone who knew that what was really important was how she felt about herself.  Maybe that Willow had been hiding inside of her all along, but Angelus had helped bring her out, whether he had intended to or not.

The feeling of his hands on her ass brought her thoughts quickly back to the present.  Fingers caressed the round globes of flesh, occasionally slapping her ass lightly, making her backside feel hot and overly sensitive.  Suddenly a finger dipped between the cheeks of her ass, teasing her asshole.  The feeling of his finger back there was strange and somewhat uncomfortable, and Willow began to wiggle away from the invading digit.

"Relax," he instructed her, as his finger teased the elastic ring of her hole.  "If you relax, this can be quite enjoyable.  If you clench up, this won't be any fun at all.  Not for you, at any rate.  Doesn't matter much either way to me."  His casual tone assured Willow that he was quite serious; he would do this to her whether she wanted him to or not.  The thought sobered her, while at the same time she felt her body responding to his subtle threat, trying to relax to allow the finger to delve deeper inside her.  If he was going to do this, she might as well try to enjoy it.

His long finger thrust inside her in time with the thrust of his cock into her pussy, and soon Willow didn't care what he was doing to her, as long as he kept doing it.  She never imagined that having two pieces of him invading her at the same time could feel so good, but for some reason it did.  Suddenly he added another finger to her ass, and after an initial groan of pain, the pleasure overwhelmed her again.  His cock and his fingers filled her, stretched her, completed her, and she cried out his name as her orgasm tore through her body and mind.

The dark vampire had not yet come, and now that Willow had, he pulled himself from pussy, his cock gleaming with her juices.  He moved it higher, lining it up with her tight ass, and began to push into her.  The lubrication he had stolen from her release made it possible to slowly push in, easing his head into the ring of her ass until it finally swallowed him whole, and he held the tip of himself inside her.

He looked down at the profile of her face where it rested against the white top of the table, admiring the way that her body had relaxed, while her face was still set in nervous, slightly frightened lines.  The thought came to him that he should probably reassure her, but the idea smacked of humanity and he quickly discarded it.  She would get through this, and in the end she would enjoy it.  In fact, he told himself, he could probably make her cum while he fucked her ass.  The thought appealed to him, and his fingers immediately went to work on her little clit, the soft gasps of breath telling him that she was ready for him to make the next move.

He plowed into her, thrusting all the way through her bowels until he could move no further; he was inside her to the hilt.  She had cried out when he had moved deeper, but now she was quiet, although her heart hammered in her chest and her chest heaved with labored breath.  Giving her a careless smile, he pulled himself back out, until only the tip was still held within her, and then pushed forward again, sheathing himself within her tight, warm ass.  She was amazing, he crowed, so soft and beautiful and responsive.  Such a wonderful find, and she was all his, only his, never to be touched by another.

It wouldn't be long until he came, he realized as he continued to thrust within her, so he redoubled the efforts of his fingers on her clit.  He watched as she bit her lower lip so deeply that he could smell blood.

Willow didn't know whether to cry out in joy or scream in pain.  The pain from her ass was mixing with the pleasure she felt elsewhere, sending confusing signals to her brain.  All she knew was that she wouldn't be able to handle much more of this, and yet she wanted it to go on forever.  The sensations all centered on Angelus' fingers and the things they were doing to her clit.  She was so close, so very close to coming, and every bit of her attention was drawn to that.

In her mind Angelus didn't exist, Willow didn't exist, the rest of the world was gone as well.  All that mattered was the feeling of fingers on her clit, building her up higher and higher until her orgasm crashed over her and she screamed a wordless sound of release, more feral than human.

As she came down from the incredible orgasm, she realized that Angelus had come as well.  As he pulled his spent cock from her ass, he watched her with those unreadable damned eyes of his, his smile growing as he took in her dishevelment and confusion.

Damn him, she thought.  Damn him for being so sexy, damn him for being so evil, and damn him for being so right.

~Part: 18~

They lay relaxing on the couch, Willow tucked within his arms, as the vague sounds of life going on outside the window of her living room tried unsuccessfully to intrude upon her thoughts.  It was dusk; soon it would be dark, and she wondered whether he would go, or if he would stay a little longer.  And if he did, what exactly would that mean?

"Don't ever forget who you're dealing with, Willow," he reminded her in what, to her, seemed like an unusually soft and almost apologetic tone of voice.  "I'm a vampire, and I will do whatever I want to you, whenever I want.  You can't stop me."

She nodded slowly, reluctantly, glad that he couldn't see her face.  His arms tightened, pulling her back tighter against his chest, almost as if he could sense the direction her thoughts were heading.

"I may seem civilized and almost...soft, at times.  But that's just a face that I put on for the benefit of others.  Underneath that, I'm something entirely different."

'Yeah, yeah, yeah, bad evil vampire without a soul, would rather drain me than talk to me, I get that,' she thought somewhat bitterly.  But for some reason those things didn't seem to matter too much when she was with him.  There was a side of her that hated what he was and what he did, but another part of her was in love with the passion and the wildness and the feelings he made her experience.  That part of her hoped that this - this thing they had would never end.  And maybe it was only because that she knew it *would* end soon that she felt free to admit to herself just how much he had come to mean to her.

When she made no move to answer him, Angelus reached out and tugged a lock of her hair, not pulling it taut, just exerting enough pressure to get her attention.  Her head turned back to look at him, the angle somewhat uncomfortable.  "What are you thinking about?" he asked gently, his hand releasing her hair and reaching down to caress the line of her jaw.

"It doesn't much matter," she replied softly, the words an echo of her thoughts.  He took her utterance at face value, not understanding that she was referring to something much more serious than his need to justify his earlier actions.

And why exactly did it matter to him whether she was upset, Willow wondered.  Why was he bothering to justify himself and his actions to her.  It wasn't like she was important to him.

Doubts and low self-esteem flooded her mind as they always did, and she turned her head back away from him, staring blindly at a spot in the carpet.  In a couple of days Jenny would cast the re-souling spell and Angelus would be gone, replaced by Angel.  Buffy's Angel.

How would he feel when he returned?  Would he be disgusted at what she had allowed to happen between her and Angelus?  Would he tell the others of her betrayal?  Or would he remain silent, their actions adding yet another serving of guilt upon his already overwhelmed soul?

Further dark thoughts added fuel to the fire, and she turned her head back towards him again.  "Why do you care?" she asked bitterly.  "Why ask me what I'm thinking?  You go to such pains to tell me that you're evil and always will be.  So why would you even ask?  Asking implies an interest in the answer; it implies that you care about how I answer."  She turned her head away again, her eyes drawn back to that spot on the carpet.

Angelus was silent for so long that Willow finally turned back towards again, wondering if she had made him angry.  The brown eyes that met hers were devoid of emotion, and yet she could see deeper thoughts swimming beneath the surface, and wondered what they were.

Without warning he sat up, moving Willow with him so that she sat beside him.  "I don't really know how to answer your question," he finally admitted, refusing to meet her eyes.  He got to his feet, walking over to the window and pulling the thick curtain back enough to peer outside and evaluate the progress of the sun.

Apparently the sun was down, or at least close enough to it, because the next thing Willow knew, he had grabbed his coat.  He hastily pulled it on and headed for the door.  Her eyes followed his progress, confusion swimming in their depths.  He didn't seem angry or uncertain, but he was definitely in a hurry to get away.  Away from her.  That was the only explanation she could come up with.

The door slammed closed behind him, and as soon as it did, Willow felt warm salty tears fall from her eyes.  God, what was wrong with her?

She buried her head in her arms, crying bitter tears, her small body wracked by sobs.  Why was she crying?  Why was she letting this get to her so much?  It wasn't like she cared about him.  It wasn't like his hurried departure was a bad thing.

Her mind taunted her with the bitter truth:  It wasn't like she was in love with him...was it?

Heaven help her, it was exactly like she was in love with him.  She had tried to fight it, tried so very hard.   But in almost no time he had managed to squirm his way around her carefully erected defenses.  And he had done it easily, without even trying.

And now, now that it was too late, she saw it all laid out before her.  How he had played upon her insecurities, while at the same time he had built up her self-esteem.  He had made her feel good about herself; made her feel good about the way she felt when she was with him.  And then there was the sex...

She shook her head angrily, as if that act could banish the feel of his fingers on her flesh; the pleasurable pain his teeth had inflicted upon her; the sound of his voice as he whispered in her ear.

"STOP IT!" she yelled aloud, the sound echoing around the empty room and inside of her head.  The tears fell again as the young redhead cried herself to sleep alone on the couch.

~~~*~~~

Angelus headed home, his thoughts jagged and confused.  What the hell was wrong with him?  She was just a girl.  A means to an end.  But every time his thoughts strayed, they led him back to a young woman with frightened green eyes who seemed to be just as confused as he was.

He would not allow himself to be weak.  That was all there was to it.  End of subject.  Love...NO, not love.  Emotional attachment.  That was all it was.  But it was a weakness, and something he could not have in his life.

There were goals to be achieved, promises to be kept.  He would kill the redhead, and then Spike would kill the Slayer.  The plan was perfect in its simplicity; not in the least bit complicated.  So why was he now having second thoughts?  Thoughts of keeping her, thoughts of making her his childe and his mate.

How the hell had she managed to creep her way into his heart, turning all the cold emotionless places warm and comfortable?  He had lived so many years without love, both as Angelus and then as Angel.  How could one little slip of a girl change all of that?

With an angry shake of his head he headed into the mansion, his eyes settling on Dru and Spike, involved in some sort of discussion.

"So," he said, wiping all traces of his confusion and other emotions from his face, "Have I missed anything?"

"'Bout time you made it back," Spike groused.  "Was wondering if I needed to rally the troops for a round of hide-n-seek or something."

"I told him that daddy was just fine, he was simply playing with fire," Drusilla added in a sing-song tone, her words punctuated by a knowing nod.  She was sitting on Spike's lap, nipping playfully at the fingers he dangled before her face.  Exactly whose fingers they were, it was hard to tell.  Probably some drifter or take-out delivery person, he guessed.

"Can you see now why I was slightly concerned?" Spike told him with a wry smile.  "So I suppose it was your little redhead that kept you out all day?"

Angelus gave the blond a bland look.  "Just setting the scene for our Slayer's demise.  Are you ready for your part of the plan?  I'm thinking I'll kill her tomorrow night."

The words came as a bit of a surprise, both to him and to his childer, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made.  Things were getting too emotional, too real for him.  Best to cut this short and be done with it.  One more night with her warm, sweet body, and then drop her in front of the Slayer's house, his own personal version of a Hallmark greeting card.

Spike moved Drusilla off of his lap and came gracefully to his feet, walking back and forth a few times to demonstrate his mastery of his body.  "I'm fit as a fiddle," he answered, a slight glint of bloodlust in his eye.

Drusilla eyed her daddy thoughtfully, her eyes digging into his skin and attempting to discern his secrets.

"What is it baby girl?" he asked, coming to take the hand that Dru held out to him.

"You said you were going to turn the little girl with the big green eyes," she reminded him, her face turning unhappy and eyes filling with tears.  "I so wanted a mummy, I did.  I'd be such a good girl, I promise."  She looked into his eyes, begging him to reconsider.

"I suspect that daddy's little toy wasn't quite as interesting as he thought it was going to be," Spike told her, giving Angelus a wink.  "Bet he's gotten bored already, right sire?  She may be pretty to look at, in an elfin sort of way, but to spend eternity with?  I just don't see it."

Angelus hesitated a moment, then nodded at Spike, before turning to look again at Dru.  "Spike's right, this wasn't the one.  She was fun, but she's not forever."

~Part: 19~

Willow awoke early on Sunday morning, which was less of a blessing that it might have seemed.  Even with an early sunset, it would still be almost twelve hours until Angelus could return.  If he was going to.  She could have sworn that he wasn't angry when he left her, yet there had been a distance between them that she didn't quite understand.  If it wasn't anger, then what had it been?  She couldn't figure it out, not for the life of her.

She did all the normal, 'human' things that were a part of her routine:  she showered, dressed, had breakfast, and settled down for a nice study session.

In her history class they were studying the American Revolution, and without even thinking about it, her thoughts flew to Angelus.  Where had he been during those years?  He had mentioned something once that led her to believe he had been in New York, but she couldn't remember for sure.  Had Drusilla and Spike been with him?  Were they a family then?

Buffy had mentioned that she had heard through one of her sources that Dru and Spike were back in town, and making up for lost time with 'daddy.'  She wondered if they--NO, she would NOT do this.  She refused to moon around like some childish little girl over a pathetic crush.

Studying had been a good idea in theory, but obviously it was not sufficient to keep her mind off of Angelus.  Some stronger medicine was needed for that, maybe something that came in a Xander-shaped pill?

Willow acknowledged that she had been shutting her friends out and pulling away from them for a while, but suddenly the need to see Xander was unusually strong.  She gave in to the impulse to pick up the phone, her nimble fingers dialing the number that she had first memorized in kindergarten.

"Hey Xander," she greeted softly when her friend picked up the phone.  "Whatcha up to?"

~~~*~~~

Calling Xander had definitely been the right idea she decided, as they sat together in the park, talking and catching up on each other's lives.  Certainly there were subjects that they didn't touch on:  his relationship with Cordy was quickly put into that category, as was Willow's relationship with the undead.  Of course Xander didn't realize that there even *was* a subject with that title, but what he didn't know certainly wouldn't hurt him.

They talked happily, laughing and grinning, and for a little while all of Willow's cares melted away like snow in the bright morning sun.  And when Xander invited her to have dinner at his place, she just naturally found herself accepting the invitation.  After all, it wasn't like she had anything she had to return home to.  Her parents' house was big, cold and empty.

Finally, over frozen pizza and Pepsi, Xander brought up a subject that Willow just couldn't see participating in.

"You know," he began hesitantly, "Buffy thinks you're mad at her."

"Nah," Willow responded, her mouth still half-full of spicy Italian goodness.

"Well I'm glad to hear that you're not, that's a big relief," Xander said, smiling.

Willow laughed, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice.  The day had been going so well, and she really didn't want it to end on a sour note.  "No, Xander, I meant that she's way too inwardly focused to realize that I'm still mad at her."

Her friend shot her a surprised look, unused to hearing her use such critical language in regards to Buffy.  Willow had always been so forgiving, so willing to accept Buffy's shortcomings because she knew how hard the blonde worked at being the Slayer.  What had happened to change things between them so suddenly?

"I--" The boy floundered for a moment, unsure what to say.  "You're still mad at her, aren't you?"

Willow sighed, staring down at the half-eaten slice of pizza on her plate.  "Xander, I'm trying to get past this, really I am.  But Buffy has been...cruel.  I mean, I understand you not wanting to tell me about you and Cordelia, I guess.  We both have this big history with Cordelia, and it wasn't always pretty."

Xander nodded his head, acknowledging her comments about their shared past.

"But Buffy is supposed to be my friend.  And once the truth was out, a friend would have made sure I was okay.  She would have tried to help me get through this.  But Buffy's reaction was more along the lines of 'well thank goodness that's over, let's go out and party.'  Hell, even Cordelia was more sympathetic.  And you know what?  It hurts."

"Okay, I guess I can understand that.  But she's just--"

"Sorry, Xan.  Not buying that excuse anymore," Willow interrupted forcefully.  "I know she's got a lot on her plate.  We all know that.  And we've all been looking the other direction whenever she does something that isn't cool.  Hell, look at the way she's treating Jenny.  She and Giles have been trying to help, for heaven's sake, and Buffy treats them both like something she's trying to scrape off the bottom of her shoe.  And we stand by and let her!  Well I'm not going to put up with it anymore.  I deserve better, damn it."

Xander was quiet for a moment, marveling at the newly-discovered streak of self-esteem Willow had just shown him.  A small part of him acknowledged that her timing might have been a bit better, but the rest of him was happy for her, and hoped that he would get to see more of this new self-confidence.  "I'm sorry, Willow," he said quietly, reaching out to grab her hand across the table.  "You're right, and I'm a fool for not realizing it sooner.  You do deserve better."

Willow looked away from him, grabbing her glass and letting a big gulp of Pepsi bubble down her throat.  Years of friendship told Xander that she was working hard to control her emotions, not wanting to show how badly they'd all hurt her.

"I guess I really screwed up, huh?" he said, not knowing how else to make things right.

She gave him a small smile, grateful that he was acknowledging his part in the drama that her life had become.

"It's okay," she told him, giving his hand a light squeeze.  "You're a guy, you can't help it."  Her teasing tone and the smile on her face as she delivered this pronouncement made him smile in return, and he wondered yet again what he had done to deserve her.

"Yeah, you--you woman you!" he teased her right back, watching as she finished the last of her dinner.  He took a closer look at her, noticing the shadows behind her eyes and the fact that her clothes hung on her body just a bit looser than usual.  "Willow, you okay?  I mean, I know your parents are gone...are you getting enough sleep, and 3 squares a day?"

She merely looked back at him curiously.  "I mean, you just look a little tired, that's all," he told her.  "You know you're welcome to hang here anytime, right?  No matter what, I'm still your friend."

He watched a grateful smile break across her face, and for a moment he thought that he might have seen a shimmer of tears in her eyes, but when he blinked it was just Willow, smiling happily.  "Love you, Xander."

"Love you too, Wills."

"Gotta go," she said sadly.  "Lots of studying to get done tonight.  American history test next week, remember?"

He laughed at that.  "You know me Willow.  I won't start studying until about five minutes before the class bell rings."

"Yeah, and I still don't know how you manage to pass your classes," the redhead admitted as she headed for the door.  "Must be all that clean living, huh?"

"Oh yeah, lots of that," Xander acknowledged with a smile.  He held the door open for her, watching as she took off down the street.  The vague thought crossed his mind that he really ought to have offered to walk her home, but Cordelia had mentioned that she might be by tonight, so his chivalrous thought crossed right back out of his mind.

It was only a block or two, and Willow was armed with holy water and a cross.  She'd walked that short distance more times than he could even count.  She'd be just fine.

~Part: 20~

The short walk home from Xander's house felt like it took forever; every shadow seemed to hide a dozen vampires, and every noise she heard sounded like the anguished voice of someone she knew.  Willow understood that it was just her imagination playing games with her, but that didn't make it any easier.  It was with a great sense of relief that she closed the front door safely behind her, peering into the darkness of the living room.

"Where were you?"

The accusatory tone of the vampire's voice set her nerves on edge, but she knew that a show of anger would get her nowhere, so she forced herself to relax, her eyes seeking the source of the voice.

"I was with Xander," she responded calmly, finally picking out his figure in the dark room.

He sat comfortably in the old ugly recliner that her father insisted they keep, even though it clashed terribly with everything else in the room.  Sometimes Willow thought that her father's insistence was rooted more in a need to annoy her mother than in any real love for the piece of furniture.  But they had kept it all these years, for whatever reason.

"Come here," he commanded softly, and she did, looking down at him, her eyes alight with curiosity.  "Sit," he said.

She sat down carefully on his lap, leaning back into him as his strong arms surrounded her.  They sat quietly for a couple minutes, just enjoying the feeling of holding and being held.

"I want you," Angelus whispered into her ear, the emotion in the simple statement sending shivers down Willow's spine.

"I want you, too," she admitted softly, turning her head and burying it into the crook of his neck.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he stood up, the redhead still held in his arms.  He shifted her slightly, one arm around her neck while the other held her under the bend in her knees.  Her arms moved quickly to circle his neck, her lips placing soft kisses on the pale column of skin.  Without a word, he carried her up to her bedroom, depositing her gently onto the bed.  She looked up at him with curious, trusting eyes, and again he questioned his decision to kill her tonight.  A part of him wanted to see her as a vampire; needed to have her around for eternity.  But another part of him, his cunning intellect, knew that she would be a liability.  His feelings for her would make him weak and vulnerable, and he could not allow that to happen.

"Why are you so far away," she asked, pondering his strange mood this evening.  At first she was afraid that he was going to put her through another of his 'I am vampire, hear me growl' dramas, but he had calmed down quickly and now seemed strangely tender.  What had caused the change in him?

"I'm right here, with you," he answered with a gentle smile, bending over to brush the hair back from her forehead and kiss her softly.

'For now,' she added silently to herself, trying not to think about what would happen once they completed the soul restoration.  When all that remained of him was Angel, who belonged solely to Buffy.

She knew that day was coming soon; was probably not more than twenty-four hours away, and the thought made her want to crawl away and die.  He was, she knew, a cold, vicious killer and could not be allowed to survive.  And yet there were times like these when she could forget all of that and concentrate on the good things:  the times when they were happy together; the way he made her feel when they were together; the knowledge that he cared for her, even if he wouldn't say the words aloud.

His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb rubbing softly along her jaw, as if he hoped to memorize the shape of it.

"What are you thinking about?" came her hesitant question.

Angelus smiled silkily, wondering how she'd feel if he told her.  He sat down next to her on the bed, looking down with eyes that gave her no clues to his thoughts.  "I was imagining how you'd look as a vampire," he finally confessed.

His hand reached out to touch a lock of her hair, twirling it carelessly between his fingers.  "Your hair would be brilliant against your pale skin, making it look like a fire that consumed you."  His fingers moved down to her shoulder, pushing aside the flimsy fabric that covered it.  "Your skin would glow in the moonlight like alabaster," he continued, caressing her shoulder briefly before slipping his hand under the fabric and reaching to cup her breast.

Willow was mesmerized by the words and the low, hypnotic tone of his voice.  Never mind that he was describing her untimely death; Angelus could make it sound like something she would crave with her last dying breath.

"Angelus," she whispered, not wanting to break the spell his words created.

"Yes, my Willow?

"I need you," she sighed, closing her eyes.

He smiled, his eyes tracing her face and every line of her body.  This was how he would always remember her.  Giving herself to him, and yet never completely trusting him. It amazed him that she could do that; could care for him so completely, even knowing that he would be her destruction.  There was an innocence and strength to her that he respected, even as he tried to destroy it.

He would miss her.  Would miss this.  The words came to him and he was tempted to speak them aloud, if only to see her reaction.  Would she cry?  Beg for her life?  Or would she face her fate square in the face and accept it?  He suspected it would be the latter that she would choose.

Regardless of what her response might have been, tonight would be it.  He would drain her and leave her for the Slayer to find.  There would be no putting it off and no backing down.  Leaving her alive, or even turning her, was just too dangerous.  Even as a vampire she would be a liability, his affection for her something that could be used against him.  He could not permit himself such a weakness.

But he would make their last night together special; she deserved that much at least.

That last thought driving his actions, he reached down to tug her shirt over her head, Willow lifting her arms up to help.  Then he pulled her pants off, and her panties with them.  His eyes devoured her hungrily, openly admiring her body.

His hands paid homage to her, working tirelessly as they stroked and teased her skin, centering finally on the valley between her breasts.

His fingers teased her nipples.  He watched as the tips stiffened into hard peaks.  She moved against him, thrusting her chest even closer, and he took the hint and grabbed the firm globes, squeezing lightly as his thumbs stroked the firm tips.

"Angelus," she moaned, head shaking from side to side as she tried to deal with the feelings his hands were driving her to.

"Tell me what you want, sweet Willow.  Tell me what you need."

"I need more."  She stopped for a moment, gasping for breath.  "I need you," she whispered, her eyes opening and gazing into his.

"I'd hate terribly to disappoint you," he grinned, moving to the space between her open legs.  He unzipped his pants, pulling them off and letting them drop to the floor.  His cock stood out hard and lean, eager to be inside her warm tight embrace.

He watched her eyes as he pushed into her, consumed by the expressions that flowed across her face:  lust, need, and finally a look of contentment as he was in her to the hilt.

He went slowly, taking her to the edge again and again and then pulling back.  After an hour of this play they were both nearing their limits.  Willow was shaking beneath him, her eyes glazed with unfulfilled lust.  Her hair was plastered to her neck with sweat and she crooned his name continuously from kiss-stung lips.

It was time he decided, speeding up the pace of his thrusts.  She thrust her hips against his, searching for that elusive pressure on her clit, and the release that had been denied for so long.

They came together, shouting out the other's name as they fell bonelessly to the bed, exhaustion claiming the redhead almost immediately.

He watched her as she slept, completely oblivious to the danger before her.

"I do love you Willow, as much as I can," he murmured softly, telling her the one thing in death that he never could have in life.  He gave her one last kiss on the lips before raining a trail of kisses to her neck.  His demon face slid smoothly into place and he slowly sank his teeth deep into the flesh of her neck.

~~~*~~~

Somewhere on the other side of town, a young techno-pagan sat in a dark room, an Orb of Thessulah perched upon a haphazard pile of ancient books.

Slowly, reverently, she began to chant, the words of a long-lost tongue flowing easily from her mouth as if guided from a power beyond.

~~~*~~~

And in the parlor room of a mansion on Crawford Street, an insane vampiress began to scream with rage, her voice echoing through the long halls and empty rooms.

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