Then and Now

Author:  Kat (a.k.a. KallieRose)

Parts:  31 - 38 (End)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
 
 

~Part: 31~

Buffy did not take the news of Angel's imminent departure well.  She cried, she raged, she screamed, and in the end she even begged.  But ultimately, she lost.

Angel needed to leave and he knew it.  Staying was just too dangerous.  Buffy might never realize it, but in a very real way he was saving her life.  Hers, and Willow's.  And although he despaired at the thought of being alone again, he knew that it was the only way to escape the pitfalls of life in Sunnydale.

Early one evening about a week later, everything he owned packed up in a large rented pickup, Angel said his good-byes.  The library was filled with those awaiting his departure.  Some were ecstatic; Giles and Xander in particular made no bones about the fact that they were happy to see him go.  Others had mixed feelings.  And then there were Willow and Buffy.

"Angel, it's not too late to change your mind," Buffy whispered in his ear as he gave her a friendly hug.  They were just friends now.  Sometimes he wondered if they were even that anymore.  In recent days he had noticed a coldness to her, a manipulative quality to most everything she did and said.  Had it always been there?  Had he just been so blinded by his obsession with her that he had failed to notice?  He didn't know.

He pushed her away slightly, grimacing at the tears she allowed to flow from her eyes.  Tears, even hers, would not dissuade him.  His choice was made; now he needed to follow through.

"Good luck, Buffy," he told her seriously.  "I know you'll do fine without me.  You have your friends, your Watcher, the Council; everyone is dedicated to helping you. And if you ever need my help, really need it, I'm just a few hours away."

She pulled him back to her, her lips aiming for his mouth.  He turned his head to the side so that they connected with his cheek instead, and she had to be content with that.

After a second he disentangled himself from her arms and walked to Willow, where she stood next to Xander and Jenny.  "Willow," he said softly, a charge flowing through his body as her eyes met his.  She crossed the distance between them and felt his arm close around her, holding her lightly.  "Forgive me?" he whispered into her ear, smiling as he felt her nod her head into his shoulder.

They separated, and he headed for the door, wishing to leave without looking back.  He wanted to remember them like this: together, united, leaning on each other to get through the rough times.  He might not be a part of 'them' anymore, but he still wished them well.

"Good-bye," he called over his shoulder, leaving the library and heading out into the night.

~~~*~~~

Willow's body sagged slightly as his final words reached her, and then the swinging library doors were all that remained of his presence.  It was relief, she told herself.  She was relieved that his particular complication to her life was gone.  But she couldn't help but feel sad that her last connection to Angelus was gone as well.  He wasn't Angelus, and she had almost come to grips with that fact.  She no longer jumped when she heard his voice; her heartbeat no longer betrayed her when she saw him.

But he had been all she had left of Angelus, and it hurt to know that now she was losing that as well.  A small part of her longed to run after him, to beg him to take her to Los Angeles, to promise anything as long as it would mean that she could still see him.

But it was impossible.  And even if it hadn't been, she still would not have been happy.  It was Angelus she craved, and Angel would always be a pale substitute.

With a sigh, she tracked down Jenny and Giles who were talking earnestly in Giles' office.  They broke off suddenly when they saw her, their attention focused entirely on her.  She got the uncomfortable sensation that perhaps she had been the subject of their conversation, but refused to let that bother her.

"I think I'm going to go home," she told them, her voice weary and nervous. "If you don't have anything for me to do, that is?" Her tone turned the words into a question.

"No, there is nothing pressing at the moment.  I think we can carry on without you," Giles told her with a small smile.

"I'll drive you home," Jenny promised, grabbing her purse and keys and giving Giles a brief hug.  "See if you can keep Buffy away from her for tonight," she whispered as she held him, hoping to make Willow's evening a little easier.  Every inch of the redhead's face told Jenny that the girl was near the edge, and barely holding herself together.  A late night visit by a weepy slayer was the last thing she needed.

~~~*~~~

Somehow Willow wasn't surprised an hour later when she heard the knock on her door.  It was the downstairs door, though.  That was different.

It was late enough that she had shed her clothes, opting instead for another comfortable, oversized nightshirt.  The impatient knocking came again, and instead of taking the time to change, she merely headed down the stairs in what she was wearing.   He could deal.  After all, he had seen her in less.

A cautious look through the peephole confirmed her guess; it was Angel at the door.  She opened it slowly, taking in his uncertain expression, and his truck parked out in front of her parents' house.  "Hi," she offered, waving him into the living room.

"Hi," he answered awkwardly.  And then he gave her that look.  It was the one that made her want to think that Angel might be close enough to the one she wanted after all, even though she knew he wasn't.

"I couldn't go without seeing you," he finally admitted, a self-depricating smile playing along his lips.  He could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes, sparkling like facets of an emerald, and cursed himself for being weak.  He should not have come here; should have spared her this pain.

She came into his arms, her body pressed tightly against his as his arms surrounded her, holding her tightly.  He could feel her tears wetting the front of his shirt, soaking in and making the shirt stick uncomfortably to his chest.  "I'm sorry," they both said, then laughed at their timing.

He pulled her back a bit, brushing the tears from her cheek with a hand that shook only a little.  "You have nothing to be sorry for," he murmured, watching a shy smile play across your face.

"Neither do you, Angel."  And she said the words like she believed them.  That was one of the things he liked most about Willow, he acknowledged.  She saw Angel and Angelus as two separate creatures, and had always treated him as a friend, no matter what.  It made him wish...well, it made him wish lots of things.  Things that could never be.

He hesitated a moment, then spoke, surprising her with his words.  "He wants to say good-bye."

"He?  Angelus?  I-" She stopped uncertainly, her eyes wide with surprise.  "I don't-can we?  Would that be okay?" she asked softly, her eyes tragic with their wanting.

"I'll give him control, just for a moment.  He promises to behave, although I'm not sure exactly what that means to him."  Angel looked dubious, but decided to leave the choice up to her.

Only one word passed her lips, but the word made it clear how she felt.  "Please."

Angel retreated just a bit, letting the demon have limited control. He was reasonably sure he could wrest control back if needed, but he would have to watch carefully to make sure that Angelus didn't try anything.

From the way that Willow smiled the minute the demon took control, Angel knew that she could tell who she was looking at.  "Angelus," she whispered, the words almost reverent.

The demon looked at her curiously, startled when she threw herself into his arms.  He had not expected this sort of a greeting from her, although he had to admit that she had often managed to surprise him.  "Sweet Willow," he whispered back, gently touching his lips to her forehead in a chaste kiss.  Her skin warmed his lips, and he moved them to take her lips, teasing, touching, and tasting the skin of her cheek and chin along the way.

His kisses became more forceful and demanding, and she replied in kind.  Her hands reached up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as if trying to hold him there forever.

They stood like that for a lifetime, or for a few minutes, it was hard to tell.  Finally he pulled back, sensing her need to breathe.  Her heart hammered in her chest, her lovely chest that rose and fell quickly as she sucked in much-needed air.

"I'll miss you," she told him, the tears beginning to return as she sensed that their time was nearing an end.  Bit by bit she saw the soul return to his eyes, an amazing and indescribable feat.  And then she was looking at Angel, and Angelus was no more.

She stepped awkwardly out of the circle of his arms, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Good-bye, Willow," Angel said, the words seeming so final this time.  As she watched, he turned and opened the door, walking out of her life.

Silently she wished him well, even though it felt like a knife in her heart to do so.

~Part: 32~

Five years later...

Willow sat at the computer, reveling in the quiet of a house not presently filled with noisy, rambunctious slayers-in-training, and trying hard to ignore all the little irritations of the day.  Sure, living with a couple dozen wanna-be slayers was not going to be easy, and she realized that.  But today there had been other annoyances far above and beyond that.

First there had been Buffy, begging her to go shopping, which she *so* did not want to do.  Wasn't it enough that she slayed demons, hacked databases, and still took care of Dawn during Buffy's frequent disappearances?  Did she have to do the 'best friend shopping' thing as well?  It was a sham and they both knew it.  Any friendship they might claim to have was merely a shadow of a relationship now rusty with disuse.  They still fought side by side, but friends?  They hadn't been that for a long time.  Maybe not ever.

The next contestant in the 'irritate the hell out of Willow' game had been Xander.  He had dropped by the house today, Buffy's house, and proceeded to eat any and all food-type substances that weren't nailed down or growing mold.  She knew that Buffy and Dawn would be annoyed if they came home with their charges and there was nothing to snack on; the girls went through food like it was air: a substance available in unlimited supply that was easily replaceable.  So Willow had had to go to the store to get extra food, when all she had really wanted to do was stay at home and read one of the books she had received from Giles and Jenny, who were taking a brief honeymoon in England, as they looked for yet more young potential Slayers.

And then, to top it all off, Spike had developed a strange fascination with the tattoo on her hip, and had demanded she show it to him.  They had been in the Magic Box, customers everywhere turning to stare at them when he made his demand.  She had refused uncategorically.  No public stripping.  It was very much a 'Willow' policy.  When demanding hadn't worked, Spike tried begging and pleading, and from there he had moved on to taunting and snarling.  Finally growing sick of his tantrum, she had pulled him into the storeroom, dipped her pants down just a bit, and shown him the small moon on her upper hip.

They had gotten the tattoos together, she and Tara.  Tara had gotten the sunshine, which was fitting, because to Willow she had been everything good and light and pure in life.  Willow had chosen the moon, for its timelessness and mysterious nature.  The two tattoos had complemented each other, as had the two women.  Until....

No, she refused to let her thoughts drift in that direction.  She was trying hard to get her life back together after everything that had happened last year.  Dwelling on the past, and actions she couldn't change, would not help her get back on track.

It was just so hard, that's all.  The others had no idea how difficult it was to resist the lure of the magic that called to her constantly.  They had no idea how, even now, every cell in her body longed to feel the sparkle and the thrum of magic running through her veins.  Oh, Jenny and Giles had an idea, a shadow of a whisper of an idea, but it wasn't the same.  They had never possessed the same level of power as she had.  And they had never lost the person they loved most in the world to a careless bullet shot by a stupid, vicious, greedy young man.

The image of Warren forced itself into her mind, skinless and screaming as she destroyed him, her mind forcing him to remain conscious even as his skin was flayed from his body.  As hard as she tried, she couldn't feel sorry for what she had done, and that scared her.  Part of recovering was supposed to be admitting what you had done was wrong, and while in her mind she knew it was wrong, her heart would never agree.

She had lost two loves in her young life.  There had been nobody to blame for Angelus' disappearance except for herself.  But when Tara died it had been different. Warren had been there, his actions the direct cause of Tara's death, so the blame was laid squarely on his shoulders.

Tara had been such an unexpected gift in her life.  Willow had never imagined she could fall in love again.  After Angel had left for L.A., she had hardened her heart and refused what few romantic offers came her way.  There had been Oz, and she thought for a while that maybe they could have had something, but the icy cold fear in her heart never allowed her to see him as more than a friend.

And then she had met Tara...

Tara, with her sweet smile and soft lips, and a heart as big as the world. Tara and her love had snuck up on Willow, worming their way below her radar and burrowing into her heart before she had even been aware of it.  One day the blonde was just there, as if she always had been, and always should be.

She was the antithesis of Angelus; she was soft where he had been hard, a light to his darkness, a smile to his frown.  And yet Willow had fallen for her anyway.  Maybe it was because she was so completely different from him that Willow was had been able to allow herself to feel something so strong.

Not everything had been perfect between them; there had been problems, not the least of which had been Willow's magic use and abuse.  But towards the end, once Willow had proven that she could stop using magic, that she could be trusted again, Tara had begun to forgive her and they had started the long process of rebuilding their relationship.

Until the day-

The sharp ringing of the phone interrupted Willow's musings.  The call was certain to be for Buffy; they were always for Buffy.  The blonde Slayer had a multitude of men chasing after her, and this was sure to be another of them.  But just in case...

She leaned over, picking up the phone on the third ring and brushing aside her long red locks so she could bring the receiver to her ear.  "Hello?"

"Willow?" came an excited voice from the other end.  The voice sounded familiar, in the odd way that a voice did when you heard it without any context.  Then the answer came to her.  Cordelia.

The ex-cheerleader had dumped Xander in their senior year, and had continued to make Willow's life miserable until graduation.   The brunette had decided to leave the town full of 'shopping impaired fashion victims,' as she so generously dubbed them, and had headed for L.A.  They had visited briefly when Willow had gone to L.A. to tell Angel of Buffy's latest death, but other than that there had been no communication between them.  Until now.

"Cordelia," she greeted coolly, wondering what in the world the other woman could possibly want from her.  There seemed to be a nervous tension in her voice that made Willow certain that she wanted something.  It was just a matter of figuring out what.

"Hi, um, yeah."  She paused a minute, as if she was not sure what to say next.  "So enough of the pleasantries, is Giles there?  Or Ms. Callendar?  I tried at their little shop, but some rude woman brushed me off and told me that if I wasn't going to buy anything, she wasn't going to take a message for me."

Willow had to smile at that.  Anya might be a little blunt, and even quite rude at times, but she had the unerring ability to tick off the people that Willow disliked, and for that the redhead would always be fond of her.

"They're on their honeymoon.  In England."  It had taken them a lot longer than Willow had expected to get married, but considering Giles' stuffy British manner, and the frantic pace of life on the hellmouth, she supposed that it took exactly as long as it should have.

"Okay, well, I guess that's a bust then." Willow heard a muffled sound, as if Cordelia had put her hand over the phone and then spoke to someone.  "Okay, gotta go, nice talking, blah, blah, blah."

Again with the muffled sound, and then someone else grabbed the phone.  Willow sighed impatiently, longing to get back to whatever it was she had been doing.  Okay, she reasoned, maybe she hadn't actually been doing *anything*, but nothing was still more interesting than being insulted by Cordelia.  Just like old times, in a hellish sort of way.

"Ms. Rosenberg?" came the cool, precise tones, just as she had been about to hang up the phone.  Wesley.  Curiosity sparked inside her, and despite her earlier decision to hang up, she held on a bit longer, moving the phone to her other hand and cradling it against her ear.

"Yes, Mr. Wyndham-Price?" she asked mockingly, as she copied his stuffy tones and formal address.  "So good to hear from you."  She suppressed a grin, wondering if he would even get the joke, and feeling a little mean for making it at his expense.  But he was just so unbelievably stiff sometimes that it was easy to convince herself that he deserved it.

"I was wondering if-," a pause, as he shushed someone nearby, probably Cordelia.  He started again.  "Giles mentioned that you had dabbled a bit in the arts," he began again, and Willow marveled that not a single 'ah' or 'well' or 'you see' had peppered the sentence.  Perhaps he was becoming a bit more Americanized she thought, although she would not say the words aloud for fear of offending him.

"Yes, I've been known to dabble a bit," she agreed with a wry grin.  Apparently he hadn't heard the story of how her 'dabbling' had almost ended the world.  It was strangely refreshing to know that there was someone who didn't know about *that* Willow; someone who still saw her as the slightly geeky girl who followed the rules and didn't cause apocalypses.

He cleared his throat, a nervous gesture, she was sure.  Willow waited curiously for his next words.  "You see, there has been a bit of a situation here in L.A."  Ah, he had used 'you see.'  That meant something, she was sure of it.  Her mind played with the jigsaw puzzle that was the information he had given her thus far, but there were too many pieces missing for her to make any sense of the picture.

"A situation," she repeated, her voice inviting his confidence.

"Ah, well, you see," uh oh, she thought, this was going to be bad.

There was the sound of a struggle, and then Cordelia's caustic voice came back on the line.  "What mister fearless demon hunter here is trying to say," she drawled sarcastically, "is that Angelus is loose, and we need someone to stuff him back into his little box."

~Part: 33~

'Angelus is loose. Angelus is loose.' The words crashed through her head like thunder, as fear struck her, its presence a fist closing around her chest, making her breathing short and panicked.

"How-when-why-?" Fear kept her in its grip, her ability to think rational thoughts quick to suffer.

"All good questions, yes," Wesley's smooth voice agreed, the seemingly unconcerned tone calming her nerves just slightly.  Apparently he had been able to wrest control of the phone back from Cordelia.  "I'm rather embarrassed to admit that we let him out on purpose."

"You WHAT?" she screeched, the sound causing Wesley to pull the phone back from his ear in surprise.

"Yes, well it seemed like our only choice at the time," he said nervously, still holding the phone a few inches away from his ear, just in case.

"How long?" she ground the question out between clenched teeth.

"How long?  Has he been back, you mean?  About four days now, I suppose.  He was loose for some of that time, but we have managed to capture him, thanks to Faith, and now he is safely locked away again."

Willow's heartbeat thundered in her chest.  He had been free; he could have come after her, and he hadn't.  She wasn't sure whether to be happy that he didn't consider her worth his time, or sad for exactly that same reason.  Had Angelus moved on?  Forgotten about her?  Or had there been bigger fish for him to fry?  Then something else Wesley had mentioned caught her attention.  "Faith?  How did she get out of jail?  And when?"

"I busted her out," Wesley commented matter-of-factly, and Willow had to bite her lip to keep back a hysterical giggle.  Somehow she couldn't see Wesley Wyndham-Price taking part in a jail break.  It was just too many shocks, all at once.  Wesley planning jail breaks; Faith fighting on the side of good; had she dropped into bizarro-world at some point?

He took her silence for a signal to continue, and so he did.  His voice took on a pompous, slightly lecturing tone, which reminded her a bit of Giles.  "Things aren't good here, Ms. Rosenberg.  Explaining further would take too much time.  Suffice it to say that another apocalypse is upon us, and we need help from whatever corner we can get it.  This time it happened to include Angelus and Faith."

"And now that Angelus has served his purpose, you plan on slamming him back into his cage?" She swallowed the nervous lump forming in her throat, slightly surprised that they had the nerve to pull off such an operation.  Things must really be bad.

"In a word, yes," he agreed.  "I was hoping that Mr. Giles or Ms. Callendar would be able to perform the curse.  However," he added nervously, "their absence seems to have put a bit of a crimp in that plan."

There seemed to be an unspoken question in the air between them:  would she help?  Could she help?

"I can do it," she confirmed in a steady tone, trying to calm her runaway pulse.  "I've been practicing a lot, and I'm sure I could perform the curse."

"Oh, that is quite a relief," the Englishman said, some of the tension seeping out of his voice.  "Do you happen to have a copy of the curse and the ingredients?  Or do you know where to find them?"

Willow smothered a bittersweet smile at the question.  The truth was, she kept a box under her bed with a copy of the curse and all the necessary ingredients.  It had been at Jenny's insistence, of course.  The older woman had also watched as she practiced the curse by herself; precautions taken for just this circumstance.  Well, not *exactly* this circumstance.  Who could ever have guessed that Angel and his gang would let the demon out on purpose?  Even in her wildest dreams she never imagined such a thing.

And why hadn't Angel warned her?  If this was something that had been planned and executed with his knowledge, he should have called her.  Sadness threatened to overwhelm her as she figured it out on her own:  Angel hadn't bothered to warn her because Angelus had forgotten about her.

She knew that being upset because a homicidal demon wasn't going to come chasing after her was silly.  More than silly, ridiculous.  But that didn't stop the tears from threatening to fall.

"Ms. Rosenberg?  Are you still there?"  The voice wrenched her thoughts back to the present, and back to what she would have to do tonight.

"I'm sorry, yes, I'm here.  Just thinking." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and bringing her thoughts back to what she needed to do.  "I have everything I need here in Sunnydale.  It will take me an hour or two to get things organized, and then I'll head to Los Angeles.  I should be there by midnight?"  She made the words a question.

"Excellent, just excellent," he replied, his manner practically effusive in his relief.  "I do appreciate this very much," he added gratefully.

"No problem, just part of the service," she answered glibly, hoping the joke would help to calm the lead butterflies that seemed to be careening madly in her stomach.

As she hung up the phone, the enormity of what she had agreed to do finally hit her, and she sank to the floor as if her legs had turned to rubber.

Conflicting emotions roiled within her; a whirlwind of fear and grief and nervousness overwhelmed her as she tried to make her plans.  Why hadn't he come for her?  What kind of situation could be so desperate that the addition of Angelus would make it *less* dire?  How would she feel when she saw him?  And how would he react to her?

The questions were fast and frantic as they screamed through her head, becoming so overpowering that she finally had to stop thinking altogether, pulling her legs to her so that she sat in lotus position.  She closed her eyes then, fighting to thrust all the concerns and fears from her mind, concentrating only on the sound of her deep breaths and the frantic beating of her heart.

She sat quietly for almost half an hour, until she was able to bring her breathing and heart rate back to something approaching normal.  When she finally felt like she could cope again without sinking back into a morass of fear and confusion, she came slowly to her feet.  Trying not to think too much about what it meant, she pulled the box Jenny had given her out from under her bed, carrying it down the stairs and out to the driveway.

Since he was out of town for a bit, Giles had left his car with them, knowing that the extra transportation would probably come in handy.  Wouldn't he be surprised when he came back and found out just how handy?  Hopefully it would make it all the way to Los Angeles, she thought with a slight frown.  Giles seemed to take care of it like a pampered child, so she had high hopes.

After she carefully placed the box of magic ingredients in the back seat, Willow grabbed her cell phone from her purse and pushed in Buffy's number.  The phone rang two or three times before she recognized the blonde's chipper voice.

"Hey Wills, what's up?"

Willow could hear the exuberant voices of young women in the background, and figured they must be at one of the local cemeteries doing a quick sweep.  It was still early out, barely ten o'clock, so activity was probably pretty low.  Still, you never knew when you were going to stumble across some rising minion who believed in the old adage about the early bird and the worm.

Scattered yells and comments like 'no, that's not the heart,' and 'between the legs won't do anything except piss him off' could be heard in the background, and Willow smiled wistfully, remembering briefly how much fun it had been to be that young.

Back to work she thought, as she pulled her thoughts back to the present.  "Hi Buffy.  Um, I'm going to have to go to Los Angeles for a day or two, okay?  I'm taking Giles' car, since it's a stick, and nobody else knows how to drive one."  She crossed her fingers that Buffy would be so distracted by whatever was going on at the other end that she wouldn't insist on too many details.

"L.A.?  What's going on there?"

"Oh, they need me to help with some magic, just simple stuff," she explained hurriedly.  "Gotta go.  I'll give you a call when I get there.  Bye," and then she pressed the 'stop' button and gave a sigh of relief, before quickly stuffing the phone back into her bag.  Buffy hadn't asked for any details, not that she'd had time to, and from the sounds going on around her, she would probably forget about the call almost immediately.  Judging from previous experiences, Buffy would continue to forget about Willow's absence until she needed the redhead for something.  And by that time Willow would probably be back in Sunnydale safe and sound.

Or so she hoped.

~Part: 34~

Willow was over halfway to L.A., but she still frowned nervously at every strange and unfamiliar sound Giles' old car made.  There hadn't been any problems so far, but that didn't mean much.  The temperamental auto was probably just waiting until she was in the middle of nowhere before it broke down.  That was her suspicion, at least.

The initial excitement of her quest was beginning to wear off.  Hard, cold reality was setting in fast, and fear and uneasiness were starting to make an appearance as well.  She had dreamed of this day, on and off, for years.  Sometimes the dreams had been filled with the screams of her terror.  But often they had had all the makings of a soft-core porn movie.

How would he act?  Would he kill her, no hesitation, no questions asked?  Or would he merely toy with her, making her crave death like a drug, if only to escape those cold, remorseless eyes?

Mile after mile passed by outside her window as she contemplated the meeting, knowing that no matter how well she prepared herself for it, she would never be able to anticipate exactly what would happen.

~~~*~~~

Willow stood uneasily before the door of the old hotel that was home to Angel Investigations, shifting the box of spell components nervously from hand to hand.  She remembered the last time she had visited this place, to inform Angel of Buffy's death, and wondered how much had changed since then.  She had been met by a closely-knit group of friends that day.  Would they all still be here now, or could the perils of the apocalypse Wesley mentioned, along with other evils, have whittled down their numbers?

Best to just go in and see the worst of it, she told herself.  No point in playing fanciful games of What If.

As she pushed open the door, her eyes surveyed the interior of the building eagerly, looking for signs of life.  Her gaze fell upon Cordelia, sitting at a desk, a nail file in hand.  As Willow watched, she casually ran it over a nail, examining the result and deciding it was adequate.  Her attention fell to Willow, as the redhead walked uneasily into the large reception area.  "Come on in," Cordelia urged, her tone welcoming.  Yet as she watched the brunette, Willow sensed something that felt off.  It wasn't in the words, or the tone; maybe it was in the way that Cordelia moved so languidly.  She no longer seemed to be touched by the same anxiety that had surrounded Wesley when they had talked earlier.  Speaking of which...

"Where's Wesley?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, he's off somewhere," Cordelia replied vaguely, her calm manner and almost lazy hand movements setting off warning bells in Willow's head.

"What's going on, Cordelia?" Willow demanded uneasily. Whatever game Cordelia was playing, it was best to get to the bottom of it right now, before she wasted any more time.  "Is Angelus really back, or was this just some weird game of 'Freak the Geek?'" she asked angrily.

"Trust me, he's here all right," she confirmed, giving Willow a sly wink, then pointing to a small monitor sitting carefully upon a desk.  It took a minute for Willow to focus on what she was seeing, but once she did, she took an involuntary step back in fear.  Fear may have made her move away, but curiosity brought her back, as hesitant feet made their way towards the monitor, until she stood directly in front of it.

She watched Angelus, pacing back and forth inside a small cell, a single bed and a wash basin the only other items in the room.  As if sensing that someone was watching, he looked straight into the camera, his expression intense. But confusion lurked in the depths of those eyes as well.  Willow felt as if he were staring straight at her, as if he knew exactly who was watching him.  The sensation sent a cold chill down her spine.  She shivered slightly.

"See, I wouldn't lie to you," Cordelia said, standing beside Willow and watching her in profile as her eyes fixed on the screen.  "Too bad there's no sound on this sucker, I'd love to hear what he's saying right now."

As Willow continued to watch, she realized that he *was* saying something.  His lips moved quickly, angrily, but she couldn't catch the words.

A wicked smile curved the brunette's lips as she watched Willow watch Angelus.  "I bet you had a thing for him, didn't you?" she asked slyly.

"What?" Willow squeaked nervously, turning quickly to face the other woman.

"Back in the day, you know.  Probably rubbed yourself to sleep each night wishing he would take a look at you, and throw Buffy to the wolves." Her eyes invited confidences, giving Willow a 'we're both girls' look.  "Can't say that I blame you.  He's a delicious piece of man-candy.  I bet he could go for hours too, with that infamous vampire stamina."

A bright red blush suffused her face.  Cordelia's strange words were right on target as far as Angelus' stamina was concerned, but she couldn't see what possible motive the woman had for bringing it up.  For that matter, there seemed to be no reason for this bizarre conversational turn at all.  "Whatever I may or may not have felt for Angelus is really irrelevant," she replied haughtily.  "It seems like maybe you have deeper issues here.  Something a good psychiatrist could help with..." she let the words trail off, watching the beginnings of anger stir in the other woman's eyes.  As far as she could tell, it was the first sincere emotion that Cordelia had shown since she had walked into the building.

"Think about the big picture, Willow.  Mousy, little Willow," Cordelia taunted, knowing from the redhead's response that there must be something there; something to uncover, a weakness to exploit.  "Buffy's not in the picture anymore," she continued seductively.  "Maybe this is your big chance.  So you can't have Angel, but you could still have Angelus."

"I don't know what you're on Cordelia," Willow snapped angrily, trying to wipe the tempting words out of her mind, "but regardless of that, I'm here to curse him.  I'm not here to seduce him or entertain you, or, or, play games with you.  So do you want me to curse him or not?  Because if you don't, I can just turn around and head right back to Sunnydale.  Things are a bit busy there right now, and I don't have time to play games with you, okay?!"

Willow turned away from the other woman, who moved to stand behind her, and stared again at Angelus' image.  As she watched, a slow, sensual smile curved across his lips, and she flushed again as she thought of all the times she had seen that smile.  She could almost feel those lips now, trailing a line of fiery kisses across her neck.

Willow was so caught up in her thoughts and memories that she never saw the hypodermic syringe in Cordelia's hand.  By the time she felt the pinprick of the needle piercing the flesh of her upper arm it was far too late to react at all, other than to utter a cry of anguish and pain that went unheard by anyone who could help her.  As the solution entered her bloodstream, she crumpled bonelessly to the ground.

"Well, since you asked so politely, no, I don't want you to curse him," Cordelia told the unconscious woman.  "Poor Willow Rosenberg.  Such a shame, they'll all say.  It was just a classic case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  But since you're here, well, my boy does need to eat," she said with an evil grin.

~~~*~~~

"Jeez, what do they feed this girl?" Cordelia muttered to herself as she tugged Willow's body down the stairs to the basement.  She didn't *look* heavy, but she certainly was.  Oh well, just a bit further and she'd be there.  It would be someone else's problem to get her body back up the stairs.

"Hey Angelus, I've brought you a little treat," Cordelia teased the vampire as she reached the 'visitor area' surrounding the cell.  She watched with a smile as his eyes narrowed on the body she was dragging behind her, then widened as he accepted the knowledge that it was Willow.  "Yup, straight from Sunnydale.  Stupid Wesley wanted her to curse you with a soul," she told him cheerfully, delighting in the flickers of gold that flashed in his eyes.  "Couldn't let her do that, I've got big plans for you.  But I figured there was no use letting such a lovely meal go to waste, right?"  She propped Willow's body up against the bars of Angelus' cage, watching with interest as the vampire came down onto his haunches to examine the unconscious redhead.

Angelus frowned as he heard the words, his hands reaching between the bars to grab the head of the woman lying there, turning it carefully to verify that it was who it appeared to be.  He wondered at the odd twist of fate had brought his lover back to him.  Cordelia obviously had no idea of their past relationship, had merely seen her as a means to an end.  She had lured Willow here to curse him.  Echoes of events that happened five years ago surrounded him, and he took a second to remember them; to remember her.

A growl began deep in his chest, a sign of the uncertainty and anger he felt.  A part of him demanded that he drain her immediately, make her pay for her past actions and future intentions.  But another part of him had a much more enjoyable way to make her pay for her betrayal.  His mind worked furiously, pondering actions and consequences, as he saw Willow begin to stir.

Cordelia saw it too, and pulled Willow's body in front of the door to the cell.  "Back away from the door, would you?" she asked cheerfully, as if they were old friends engaged in a simple game.  "It's not that I don't trust you," she added with a plastic smile, "it's just that, well, okay, yeah, I don't trust you."

Angelus snarled, showing fangs and ridges, but he did as she commanded, backing away to the far corner of the cell.  As Cordelia undid the lock on the door and pushed the redhead inside, the vampire lunged at her.  He was far too slow.  Coming up against the hastily locked bars of the door, he growled at his captor, watching her with gold-flecked eyes as he rattled the bars of his cage.

"I'll leave you in private so you can finish your meal," she said with a giggle, before turning to walk back up the stairs.  He growled at her retreating figure, watching in frustration as she shook a finger at him, her only reaction to the sound.

A slight movement at his feet brought his attention back to Willow.  Decisions, decision, he thought solemnly.

~Part: 35~

Willow opened her eyes to see her worst nightmare come true:  Angelus, in game face, staring down at her with a hungry look in his eyes.  She gulped uneasily, moving sluggishly as the slight sedative that Cordelia had given her began to dissipate.

"Something got you a bit nervous, Willow?" Angelus asked teasingly.  His eyes were alight with mischief, but something more ominous also swam within their depths.

"I-" she fumbled for words, shaking her head in an effort to loosen the cobwebs left behind by the drug.  "What's going on?" she asked finally, looking up at him in confusion.

He stood smiling down at her, every inch the predator.  Then with a movement so quick that it took her breath away, he sat down, straddling her hips.  His hands landed with a slap on the cement floor, one on either side of her head.  "I think Cordelia wants me to eat you," he told her with a sly grin.

He watched with satisfaction as the blood left her face, leaving her skin pale and waxy.  Thinking back to a time five years past when he had had this same opportunity, and had nearly made the fatal mistake of killing her, he knew that this time it would have to be different.

Willow looked up into the amber eyes, her own eyes defiant.  "So what are you waiting for?" she goaded him.  "I'm not going to beg and plead for my life, you know that.  Let's get this over with."

He frowned at her words, knowing that he probably had an audience upstairs via the wonders of television.  How could he kill Willow, or at least make it look like he had, without Cordelia figuring it out?"

"I don't want to kill you, you stubborn girl," he growled into her ear.

He didn't want to kill her?  Willow grasped the knowledge gratefully and held it to herself.  Just what did he want, then?

A fang nicked her earlobe, and as he watched a drop of crimson formed on the lobe, tempting him to reach out with his tongue and taste it.  He did, and nearly groaned at the delicious flavor he had been denied for so long.

"Hey, that's mine!" she claimed weakly, watching his eyes turn dark with lust.  A warm bolt of fire shot down her spine, igniting that spot between her legs and turning her mind to mush.

"Then come and get it," he taunted, moving back to run his eyes suggestively over her prone body.  The demon disappeared, leaving only the face of the man.

She sat up slowly, coming face to face with the vampire and staring up into his eyes.  "Maybe I-wait, wait, no, this is-" her words died in her throat as his lips crashed into hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth, dominating, teasing, and promising untold delights.

His hands grabbed the bars of the cage, one to each side of her head, and grasped them tightly as he continued to plunder her sweet lips.  When her panicked squirming informed him that she needed air, he backed off for a moment, watching her with hooded eyes.

"We-we have an audience," she panted, trying to bring her breathing under control again.  He smiled as he watched the show, enjoying the sharp rise and fall of her breasts underneath her jade green peasant blouse.

"Don't worry about Cordelia, she'll just think this is an appetizer," he chuckled, looking up at the camera that she was no doubt watching.

"Yeah, but don't you think she'll get suspicious when I don't actually try to get away from you?" Willow asked.  Her voice was serious, but the slight twinkle in her eye surprised him.

Actually, now that he thought about it, *she* surprised him.  He had not expected pleading or weepy eyes; this was his Willow, after all.  She was strong and stoic and would not flinch at the sight of him.  She had seen him at his worst and hadn't backed down.

But the amusement in her eyes, mixed with the fact that he sensed almost no fear from her now, left him wondering.  After all, she had been drugged and then locked into a cage with a hungry vampire who had tried to kill her once before.  But instead of cowering or attempting flight, she had returned his kisses with a passion that had equaled his own.

Why?

As he searched his mind for the answer to that question, Willow began to chant softly.  Words from a long-dead language tripped easily from her lips, sounding vaguely like an ancient spell or directive.  When he would have spoken, questioning her actions, she lifted her hand and placed the pad of her index finger across the center of his lips.

Angelus opened his lips, taking the finger inside his mouth.  The warmth of it was soothing, and he teased the digit with his tongue and blunt teeth, stealing the warmth for himself.   He closed his eyes briefly, concentrating only on the feel of her finger, tasting every ridge and edge of it, as the gentle swell of magic swirled around them.

When the chanting stopped he opened his eyes again and was surprised to find her gaze upon him, her eyes as black as the darkest night.  Only one thing could do that:  dark magic.

So his girl was an accomplished witch.  That was...interesting.  This went far beyond cursing him with a soul; the darkness in her eyes spoke of black deeds and an even blacker soul.

He felt his cock grow hard at the thought of it.

Willow relaxed as the magic left her body, waves and eddies of it swirling and dissipating around her.  It had felt so good to reach into it again, like welcoming back an old friend.  It was a part of her and she hated that she had been made to deny it.  Just as Angelus had always been a part of her, she admitted to herself.

"I've bought us a little time," Willow explained, watching his face, searching it for signs of his reaction to her magic.

"Exactly what did you do?" he asked curiously.  She looked delectable as she sat there expectantly, her tongue playing nervously over her luscious lips.  She seemed afraid that he would be disturbed by her magic use; he could read it in the taut lines of her face.  He wasn't ready to give her the acceptance she craved just yet.  Her uneasiness was a tool he could use to control her.

"A glamour," she murmured, looking down at her hands.  Anxious fingers toyed with each other, always busy, never still.  "On the camera.  She'll see only what she wants to see."  Since what Cordelia wanted to see seemed to be Willow's death, it would show that to her, exactly as she wanted it to happen.  Willow just wished she knew whether Cordelia wanted her dead quickly or slowly.  That would give her an idea of exactly how long they had before the woman came back down to check on them.  Why Cordelia wanted her dead was something that Willow didn't understand just yet.  But she meant to.

"Always figured I'd be the death of you, one way or another," he chuckled.  His hand rested lightly on her cheek, the thumb rubbing softly over her cheekbone.  "I've missed you."

"Missed you too," she admitted softly, her eyes meeting his unflinchingly now.  After all, it was the honest truth.  Saying it aloud didn't change anything though.

"What's going on?  Why did Cordelia try to kill me?  Why didn't she want me to curse you?"

He frowned at the questions.  She was always seeking answers, her mind moving quickly through any situation and trying to analyze it.  It was something he was proud of, but at times like this, when all he wanted to do was tie her up and fuck her to exhaustion, it was annoying.  He knew she was right; they needed to get the situation under control, but it had been so long since he had tasted the sweetness of her lips and felt her soft flesh against his that he was slightly bitter that she could be so unaffected.

"She seems to have been infected with something.  I'm not sure what it is, and I don't care.  All I can tell you is that she's not the same bitchy cheerleader you knew in high school.  Something dark is growing inside her, and she's been using it to control the others somehow."  Some of this he knew, some he only suspected, but it summed up the situation neatly, and from here they could plan their attack.

Assuming that she wanted to attack, he acknowledged.  Her reactions thus far had been encouraging, but he was not unmindful of the fact that she had come to Los Angeles to give him back his soul, something that was NOT in his best interest.  Still, he felt fairly confident that if he could just get out of this cage, he could convince her to let him go.  Perhaps she would even go with him.

Angelus considered that for a moment.  Was she what he truly wanted, or was circumstance making the decision for him?  The question was a mere formality; of course she was what he wanted; she always had been.  What mattered was what *she* wanted.  Or what he could convince her that she wanted.

Willow watched her fallen angel as he thought, knowing he was plotting and planning, and wondered what part she would play in his machinations.  Once her usefulness was over, he would probably try to kill her.  This time he was in for a surprise though.  She certainly was not the same submissive young woman he had known five years ago.  She had delved into something darker, more sinister, than he could ever imagine.  How would he feel about her now that her innocence was truly gone; now that her heart was almost as black as his?  Would he welcome a kindred spirit, or mourn the loss of an innocence that he had hoped to take away all by himself?

He looked at her contemplatively, his head cocked slightly to the side.  "So where do we go from here, sweet Willow?"

It was now or never, she realized.  Did she want to give herself to him again, stand at his side for as long as he wanted her?  Or did she want to go back to the life she had carved out for herself in Sunnydale, surrounded by people who did not trust her; people who waited anxiously for her to slip up again?  Her life in Sunnydale was a mere existence.  Life with Angelus promised to be exciting, if short.  But she would never grow old, alone and lonely.  Of course, one way or another, she probably wouldn't grow old at all.  She would either be a vampire, or she would be dead.  Still, wasn't it better to have a short but full life, than to simply exist for many long, weary years?

"Where do you want to go?" she asked almost shyly, her decision shining in her eyes.

Angelus smiled at her words, understanding what they meant, and what they had cost her.  She wanted to be with him, regardless of the price she would have to pay.  He had been prepared to take her again, convince her that they belonged together, but this was even better.  Of course, he still had to punish her for coming here to re-curse him, but they could enjoy that later, under more private circumstances.

"Away," he determined, his face serious.  "The city of Angels is his place, not mine.  The stench of his humanity lingers everywhere."  He thought for a moment, considering the woman before him and the things she had always been interested in.  "How does Europe sound?  The canals of Venice, the museums of Paris, the theater in London, they would all be at our fingertips."

It sounded like heaven, Willow thought.  Maybe not London; it was too close to Giles, and the memory of the time when he still thought she was salvageable.  He would be disappointed in her, but this was her life, and she was the one who had to live it, not him.  He had Jenny and his other charges.  They would be happy.  At least, they would be, if...

"There's a condition," she told him, her face serious.

From Willow's expression he could see that this was something important; something that would make or break their deal.  She knew that he would continue to hunt, continue to kill.  That was something he would not give up, even for her.  So what else could be so important to her?

"You know I don't respond well to conditions and coercions, Willow," he replied, keeping his voice soft and dangerous.

She gulped, her eyes growing nervous and uncertain, flitting around the room nervously before finally finding courage and fixing on him again.  "I-I know.  But this is something I need you to promise.  It-I couldn't live with myself, or you, if I didn't insist."

He nodded regally, ready to at least hear her out.

"When we go, the break, it has to be complete.  No coming back.  No thoughts of revenge."  She waited a moment, making her last words a whispered plea:  "Let them go."

Angelus considered her request gravely.  Revenge had definitely been on his list of things to do, but circumstances in Los Angeles had kept him from following through.  Killing the Watcher and the Slayer would have been first; a lovely bloodbath that even his childe Spike would have appreciated.  Then that bitch who had cursed him; she would die slowly, over days, until death was all that she begged for.  And then Willow herself, for betraying him; her death would have been glorious, but in his imaginings she always rose again the next night, so that he could punish her for all eternity.

Was it worth giving up those dreams?  Having Willow at his side, willingly, was something he had never considered.  Would that be enough?

"I still owe you some serious punishment."  He watched her flinch at the words, the slight scent of fear beginning to tease his senses.  And then he noticed something else: the scent of her arousal.  It was well hidden within the scent of her fear, but it was there.  "If you promise to let me take out their revenge on you, willingly, I will relinquish my claim.  We will disappear and I will never bother them again."  Besides, if he really felt the need, he could always send Spike and Dru back to take care of unfinished business.

He watched with expressionless eyes as Willow considered his counter-offer.  She knew that he would not be gentle; when he said he would punish her, he meant it.  This would be no gentle spanking or some rough sex.  This would be pain and suffering and blood.  But that was what being with Angelus meant.  Willow knew that by choosing to stand at his side, she would be giving up most of what made her human.  At one time the thought would have revolted and terrified her; now it merely excited her.

"Deal," Willow agreed, meeting his eyes and showing him she wasn't afraid.  She watched a lazy, predatory smile raise the ends of his lips, and felt a bolt of fear and lust shoot straight to her core.  "With one condition," she added quickly.

He mock sighed, folding his arms over his chest as he watched her, wondering what else she expected him to give up.  Her negotiating skills had certainly improved; he just wished she would agree so they could get to the fucking.

"You can't kill me."  She said the words baldly; they came out not as a question, but as a blunt statement of fact.

His response was quick and angry.  Fangs and ridges came immediately to the fore, a menacing growl vibrating in his chest.  His hands reached out, grabbing hers and holding them to the bars behind her, keeping her effectively immobilized.  "I beg to differ," he murmured, bringing his face to hers, and then dipping to run a fang lightly over her neck.  He nicked a vein, watching hungrily as a small pool of blood began to form.

He flicked out his tongue to taste it, and then grimaced in pain when the drop hit his tongue, burning it painfully.

"Holy water spicing the blood," Willow told him calmly, watching the anger cloud his face.  "Just one of the little tricks I could play on you, if you decided not to honor our agreement."  She watched as realization flowed into his eyes, wondering if this would be too much for him.  He always had to be the one in control, and knowing that she had some control of her own was bound to bother him.  Of course, it also gave him a challenge; something to try to work around.  A part of him would appreciate that; she was banking her life on it.

"I will allow you your revenge, and anything else you want to do to me," she promised.  "But I stay human.  At least, until you're able to convince me otherwise," she added, giving him hope.

Angelus considered these new developments.  A part of him raged against giving up any little scrap of control.  She was his, to do with as he liked.  If that meant killing her and turning her, then she should submit to his will.  But another part of him reveled in the idea of a challenge.  Wouldn't it be more interesting to have to convince her to let him turn her?  It would certainly make life more exciting.

And excitement and challenge were two things that he had had far too little of lately.  He smirked, giving Willow a look that was sure to turn her knees to jelly and place a good-sized dent in her resistance.  "A kiss to seal the deal?" he asked, his voice low and sensual.

~Part: 36~

"A kiss to seal the deal?" Angelus asked, his voice low and sensual.

"I think I could be persuaded," she agreed with a grin, the tip of her tongue sneaking out to lick her lips.

That was all the encouragement Angelus needed.  Hauling her to her feet with an arm around her waist, his lips crashed down onto hers as his body pressed her forcefully against the bars of the cage behind her.

She returned his kiss with equal passion, her lips opening to welcome him.  His tongue teased her, his mouth devoured her, while his teeth nipped gently at her full, soft lips.  She sighed, the sound an acknowledgement of her contentment.  This was what she had been missing for so very long.  The feel of his cool tongue sliding between her lips, moving caressingly against her own, and the excitement that sent her heart racing because she knew that this was just the beginning.

Angelus heard her sound of pleasure and echoed it with a groan of his own.  It had been so long, so very long since he'd felt this happy, this content, this...right.  He saw his life stretching out ahead of him, his life with her, and the possibilities were endless.  She would never be boring.  New challenges and excitement awaited him, and it was all that he could do to keep himself from coming in his pants like a hormone-ridden school boy.

He broke their kiss abruptly.  "I need to be inside you.  Now," he growled.  Buttons went flying as he ripped the shirt from her body.  She shrugged off the remnants of the material, forgotten as it fluttered to the ground, then quickly unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor as well.  Her pants quickly followed.

Before she could shed her underwear, Angelus was at them, ripping them as well in his haste to see them gone.  He threw the offending garment as far from him as he could, and then turned his attention back to Willow.  His eyes darkened with lust as they raked over her figure.  Her eyes were wild with passion, lips thick and bruised, her skin white and pure and just waiting to be marred by his teeth and the lash.

She frowned slightly, watching him watch her and noting the lust in his eyes.  It was rather unfair that she stood before him naked, while he hadn't even touched his own clothes yet.  A smirk crossed her lips and she whispered a soft word, watching with satisfaction as his clothes, suddenly just as torn and tattered as hers were, slid from his body to a pile on the floor.

Angelus stood stock still for a moment, slightly disoriented by her parlour trick, but it didn't stop him for more than a second.  He may have been surprised at her actions, but the result was something that he completely agreed with, so he decided to let it go for now.  Very soon though, they would have to have a talk about when and what magic she was to be allowed to do.  There was no doubt in his mind that the conversation would involve two extremely different opinions, and a display of dominance on his part.  Her magic might make her able to do things that a human couldn't, but there were other ways to subdue and convince her besides the use of brute force.  He would use other skills, such as persuasion and logic, for example.  Angelus was sure that he was more than up to the challenge.  But that was something to file away for later.  For now...

With the speed of a striking predator, he lunged at her, his knee nudging her legs apart only seconds before he slammed himself inside of her.  His motion was fluid, more animal than human, but it was exactly what they both wanted.  It had been too long since he had been inside of her, and he would not waste one minute more.  Later he would take the time to tease her body slowly, playing her like an instrument as he took her to the heights of passion.

But right now, they both needed a quick, brutal fuck.

Willow screamed as she felt his cock slide home, her body fighting to adjust to the hard, thick invader.  It had been so very long since she had had a cock inside her, and her body fought against the intrusion for a moment, even though she was more than willing.  Her walls gripped him tightly, as did the arms that wound their way around his shoulders.  Her mouth found his again, forcing his lips open with her tongue and plundering the depths of his cool cavern.

He started to thrust into her, his movements slow and deep.  As her channel began to lubricate for him, he picked up speed.  His thrusts went deeper and deeper, punishing and claiming and demanding.  The frenzied beat of her heart told him that she was close to her climax, but this was not something he wished to rush, so he slowed down again, taking her slowly and deeply, his hips grinding into hers.

Her lips broke away from his long enough to growl in disappointment, her eyes staring into his with an almost feral intensity.  They were both less than human, and yet more than human at the same time.  He smiled at her, his gaze teasing and tempting.  He was in control, and she would have to understand that.  "What's the matter, sweet Willow?" he asked mockingly.

"Bastard," she hissed at him, rocking her hips towards him in a futile attempt to initiate a faster rhythm.  He laughed at her efforts, a full, joyful sound, as he pulled himself from her completely, running his cock teasingly from the front to the back of her slit.

"Is this what you want, baby?" he grinned, watching curiously as her eyes bled to a darker green, lust filling them as her body shook from her need.  "Fuck you're beautiful," he murmured.  "I'll never let you go again," he promised.

"Need you," she panted, her breath coming in quick explosions of sound.  "So bad.  Fuck me!" she almost cried out in frustration.

"And what's the magic word?" he teased, enjoying her distress.  He rocked his hips back and forth against her, showing her a taste of what he would give her, if only she would say the word.

"Please!" she groaned, not hesitating for a moment to tell him what he wanted to hear.  "Please fuck me Angelus."

"Such naughty words from such beautiful lips," he admonished softly, running his tongue lightly over them.  With excruciating slowness, he pushed himself back into her, watching the expression on her face as he gave her what she craved.  As he bottomed out inside her, a look of pure contentment filled her eyes.

"Ready?" he whispered.  When she nodded, he started again, his hips pistoning in and out of her recklessly, the sensation of his cock inside of her driving her wild.  Her hands grabbed and released his shoulders convulsively, as if her body was not controlling them.

He was slowly driving her crazy, she knew.  The relentless pounding of his cock, meeting and echoing the frenzied beating of her heart, was all she could hear, all that existed in her universe.  The world could come to an end right here and now, and as long as he kept fucking her, she probably wouldn't notice.

A finger brushed her abdomen, coming down to tug lightly on her clit.  She screamed in joy as he plucked the piece of flesh, twisting and pulling it in accompaniment to his thrusts.

Angelus watched her face curiously knowing she was near her climax.  He felt himself coming close as well and was unwilling to hold it back any longer.  As he thrust into her again he gave her clit one last vicious twist and watched her body convulsed around him as she climaxed.

Willow felt her body tense and then explode in a burst of flame.  Inspiration struck, and with her last bit of energy she raked her nails down his chest, drawing a yelp from the startled vampire and leaving a bloody trail down his chest.  He came hard, slamming into her one last time as he howled his release.  His demon face slid easily to the fore, and he looked into her eyes, asking, of all things, for permission.  Tilting her neck slightly to one side, she had barely finished the movement before he struck her neck, fangs tearing into the delicate skin as he drew in small sips of her blood.

She screamed in pain as his fangs pierced her, but her body reacted by coming again, clamping down frantically on his cock as it remained hard, deep within her.  Her legs turned to jelly as wave after wave of heat and pleasure coursed through her, leaving her finally limp and weak, holding onto his neck in order to keep herself upright.

Angelus was careful not to take too much; she had shown what she could do to her blood if properly motivated.  Instead, he reveled in the taste of her after all this time.  Her blood was darker now, richer.  It was almost like the difference between chocolate and dark chocolate.  Both were delicious, but the darker variety was smokier and slightly bittersweet.  A definite improvement.

His tongue lapped up the last of the blood as it oozed from the twin wounds.  He teased them with his fingers, ghosting gently over the marks and smiling as he heard her moan weakly.  She was still so delightfully responsive to stimuli; her body just as strong and supple as he remembered it being.  Oh, the games they would play.

The sound of high heels clicking on cement tore his attention away from thoughts of Willow and all of the things he longed to do to her.  Looking up, he saw Cordelia walking down the stairs towards them, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she realized that Willow was still alive.  Willow turned as well, although she still clung to him for support.

"Well, well, well," Cordelia snarled, anger and uneasiness mixing in her eyes as she watched Willow cling to Angelus, both of them obviously recovering from recent orgasms.  "What do we have here?  For some reason I was under the impression that Willow was dead," she spat the words out, her eyes boring into one face and then the other, looking for answers.  "I know you vampires like to play with your food, Angelus, but usually you *do* eventually eat it, don't you?" she reminded him tartly.  "Time is of the essence, big boy. Kill her now, or I'll do it myself."

~Part: 37~

"Well, well, well," Cordelia snarled, anger and uneasiness mixing in her eyes as she watched Willow cling to Angelus, both of them obviously recovering from recent orgasms.  "What do we have here?  For some reason I was under the impression that Willow was dead," she spat the words out, her eyes boring into one face and then the other, looking for answers.  "I know you vampires like to play with your food, Angelus, but usually you *do* eventually eat it, don't you?" she reminded him tartly.  "Time is of the essence, big boy. Kill her now, or I'll do it myself."

"As for you, Willow, well I have to admit that I'm a little surprised.  When I said all of that stuff about you lusting secretly for him, I was just taking a shot in the dark.  I guess my aim was better than I thought, huh?"

Angelus felt Willow tense against him and wondered what she would do.  In the meantime, Cordelia had continued her path down the stairs, coming to a halt directly in front of the door to the cage.  "I just watched the most delightful little video," she said conversationally, tilting her head a bit and looking at Willow as if she was considering the redhead for the very first time.  "Of course, it was a little short on dialogue, just the occasional scream of pain.  Not that I could hear it, of course.  Stupid Wesley," she growled, shooting a malicious glance upstairs.  "Too fucking cheap to buy the system that would have given me sound.  Said it 'wasn't strictly necessary,' yes he did.  Of course, I'll revel in his screams when the time comes."

Willow shot out of Angelus' arms and turned to face the woman, her hands gripping the bars of the cage so tightly that her knuckles bled white.  "What did you do to him?" she spat angrily.  She had not known the former Watcher all that well, but he certainly didn't deserve to suffer at the hands of Cordelia, or whatever it was that she had become.

Cordelia smiled spitefully, looking every bit the beauty queen she had been in school.  She took a casual step back away from the angry witch.  "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," she offered.  "Just what did you do to that camera?  The show was quite enjoyable, but obviously," she sniffed, raking her eyes up and down Willow's body, "it was a little inaccurate."

Nibbling nervously on her lower lip, Willow eyed her captor, trying to ascertain whether or not she should be honest.

"Oh, come come, Willow.  It's not like you have anything to lose," Cordelia coaxed, enjoying the young woman's uncertainty.

"It was a glamour.  On the camera," she blurted out, turning away from the door of the cage and returning to Angelus' side.  Somehow she felt less naked when she stood next to him, and at the same time a lot safer.  He laid a casual arm around her shoulder, acting as if this was nothing unusual.  Then again, maybe he got caught by a homicidal secretary while having sex with another woman all the time.  After all, this was Los Angeles.  Those kinds of things happened here, didn't they?

"Clever," Cordelia conceded, her eyes trying to pick apart the redhead's other secrets.  "Okay, since you played fair, I guess I'll do the same.  Wesley's fine."  She watched with a smile as Willow relaxed perceptibly.  "I still need him, at least for now.  Once he's served his purpose though..." she let the words trail off suggestively.

"And that purpose would be what, exactly?" Angelus asked curiously.  Something was going on with Cordelia and he still didn't have a good handle on it.  He hated being in a situation where he didn't understand the motives of everyone involved.  It made it so much more difficult to predict other people's behavior.

Cordelia eyed him appraisingly, remembering Angelus' enjoyment of a nice bit of mayhem.  He might be useful down the road.  And she could always kill him later, should he become a liability.  Then again, he wasn't exactly trustworthy.  She pondered the options, deciding at last to give him a couple of pieces of the puzzle.

"There's something growing inside me," she announced proudly, placing her hand on her abdomen and rubbing lightly, small circles that seemed to soothe her and blunt the malice in her eyes.  "It's marvelous, powerful, amazing, and they will want to kill it.  I can't let them," she insisted fiercely.

They both stared back at her, Angelus with calculation in his eyes, Willow with growing horror.  There was something unnatural and chilling behind the brunette's eyes and Willow could see it there, waiting for its time to strike.  Whatever it was that lived inside the shell, it was no longer Cordelia Chase.

"I can see I've shocked you, poor little Willow.  Don't worry, you'll be dead long before anything terrible happens."  She frowned at Angelus and directed her next words to him.  "And why is it that she *is* still alive, anyway?  Weren't you supposed to kill her?"

Angelus stared back at her implacably, tightening the hold he had on her shoulder, his hand slipping down briefly to squeeze her upper arm.  "Maybe I don't want to kill her," he told her coolly, challenging her to make something of it.

"Well, I guess I could take care of that little problem if you're unwilling to," she shot back, her nervous haste a contrast to his languid sureness.

"You'll have to come in here to do it," he reminded her smugly, his hand resting lightly on the door of the cage.  The smile on his face faltering somewhat when she pulled out a small gun, holding it casually in her hand.

"No I won't," she replied happily, pretending to take aim at them.  "Although I'm still wondering why in the hell you would care, Angelus.  It's not like you care for her, is it?  That would just be...laughable," she finished, her voice tinkling in a parody of humor.

Angelus realized that whether Cordelia knew how to aim or not was unimportant; at this distance she could kill Willow easily without even trying.  "She's mine," he growled, his eyes flashing at the brunette.  He brought his head down to Willow's neck, fangs raking a lazy trail down the skin in a show of possession.  His claim made, his lips changed course, heading up to her ear and nibbling roughly on the lobe.  As he heard her gasp sharply, he whispered softly into her ear.  "Can you open the lock?" he murmured.  The slightest dip of her head was barely a reply, but it was enough.

He gave her a moment to work what magic she needed, his lips still nipping lazily at her ear.  Then he struck, quicker than her eyes could follow, and ripped the cage door open.  The lock was gone, melted away by Willow's dark magic.  Cordelia's eyes went wide as she saw him coming for her, and in her shock the gun fell limply from her hand.  The room echoed with a sharp clatter as it hit the floor.

By the time the seer realized her error, it was too late to do anything about it.  She thought about going down to attempt to retrieve the gun, but there was literally no time.  In less than a second, Angelus was upon her, and she was dead.

In that moment, Willow felt the last of her innocence die away.  It was an odd sensation.  Little pieces of it had been slipping away here and there for years:  a little bit when she lost Tara, much more when she killed Warren, even a bit when she had admitted her feelings for Angelus.  But this time she had stood there watching him.  Knowing what he would do.  She was a mere spectator when Angelus bolted out of the cage, leaping upon Cordelia with a speed that took her breath away.

Before the seer had a chance to react, he held her neck in his arms, twisting it sharply until Willow heard the crack and pop of tendons snapping and bones breaking.  Until she saw the body of someone she used to know sink bonelessly to the ground.  And still she felt...nothing.

~~~*~~~

Willow could sense Angelus' eyes upon her, considering her, testing her, wondering if she would be able to pull herself together.  So much depended on this moment.  She had to convince him that she was strong; that there were no regrets; and that she would not allow him to control her.  They would have to be equals in their relationship now, or he would have the upper hand.  If she gave him that power now, he would not hesitate to use it, to bludgeon her to death with it.  Metaphorically speaking, of course.

So she straightened her back and met his eyes squarely, her legs barely shaking as she allowed them to lead her out of the cage.  She stood beside him, looking down at the body of the woman who used to be Cordelia Chase.

"Should we leave a note for them?" she wondered aloud, imagining the reaction they would receive when the others discovered the body.  They would not know of Cordelia's betrayal.  They would only know that one of their own had fallen at the hand of Angelus.

He shrugged carelessly, his mind already on other things.  "It's up to you.  Do what you want."  Sooner or later the others would return to the hotel, and they needed to be long gone by then.  In his mind he was already calculating flight plans and destinations, any emotion he might have felt for the woman that had worked for his soul long gone from his mind.

Willow thought about what she might say, how she could explain.  Somehow leaving a note that said, 'Cordelia was evil so Angelus killed her and now we've gone. Don't try to find us,' seemed even crueler in its inadequacy than leaving no note at all.  So, no note, she decided.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked, looking up at him for agreement.

"You still want to?" he wondered curiously.  This would be the moment of truth.  Would she be strong enough, changed enough, to accept him as he was?  Or would she try to escape him, using the seer's death as an excuse to stay in her dull little world?

"I'm still here, aren't I?"  Curious and eager green eyes met his, and although they were tinged with weariness and sadness, they dispelled all of his doubts.

He smiled down at her, his arm coming to rest comfortingly around her waist.  She would make it; he understood that now.  No doubts, no regrets.  Only the future, stretching out before them in an endless panorama.  "Let's go.  There's nothing keeping me here," he agreed.

"Then let's get out of here," she said, heading for the stairs without a backwards glance.

He watched the gentle sway of her ass as she climbed the stairs, disappointed and just a little angry when suddenly they were both fully clothed again.  Yes, they would definitely be having a talk about her magic.

~Part: 38~

Angelus looked at the masterpiece of pain before him.  She faced away from him, her wrists shackled to the wall above her head.  Her legs were spread far apart, tied to metal rings in the floor, leaving her sex open and exposed.  Blood red hair hid her face from him, but he would know her body anywhere.  He had marked her in every possible way, but even after all the wounds had healed, he would still know it was her.  She reeked of his mark, his body, his passion.  She was his.

Half a dozen red criss-crosses covered her back, the flogger in his hand having sung across her skin more than once.  He had tested it on her back, her ass, her breasts, and places in between.  She was tired now, weak, her breath coming in shallow pants, and yet she still refused to scream for him.  Usually it wasn't so difficult to get her to scream, but tonight she was being stubborn, punishing him with her silence.

"How can I discipline you when you enjoy everything I do to you?" he murmured thoughtfully, his hand reaching out gently to push her sweat-soaked hair away from her face.  She was in profile, her right cheek pressed against the wall.  One emerald eye tried to track his movements as he brought his face next to hers, his tongue reaching out to capture a bead of sweat from her neck.

When she said nothing, he continued. "I know you enjoy this.  The room is steeped in your arousal.  It's everywhere, an overwhelming perfume."

Too weak to do anything else, she merely groaned her agreement.  It was true.  She wouldn't waste the breath to deny it.  He could do his worst to her, and he had.  But she would absorb it, enjoy it, and then come hard.  The pain added to and mixed with the pleasure until she could barely stand the intensity of it all.

Every night he tested her limits, taking her right to the threshold of what she could tolerate, and then pushing her just a bit further.  He waited for her to stop him, but it had happened only once.

It had been an evening just like this one, the cool breeze off the Seine blowing soothingly over their bodies.  After hours of pleasure and torture, she had been unsure which was which.  His cock had been inside her for so long that she felt like it was a part of her.  For hours he had ridden her hard, coming again and again, even allowing her to come once or twice.  But eventually blood loss and weariness had taken their toll, and when he had picked up the lash again she had stopped him.  Nothing dramatic or angry, she had simply held him immobile where he stood for roughly ten seconds.  It was her own personal version of a safety word.

But what could he do to her now, he wondered.  Something different.  Something that would make her scream.  Something...inspiration hit him like a thunderbolt and he moved to his toy chest, hiding his actions with his body so that she would be unprepared and unaware of what he had in store for her.

He knew that she disliked being fucked in the ass.  When he had pressed her on the subject, she had simply blushed rather sweetly and stuttered something about how it was dirty.  He remembered the time he had done it to her all those years ago in her parents' kitchen.  She had resisted the idea then, and she would surely resist it now.  He was surprised he hadn't thought of it sooner.

He could hear her trying to move, hoping to see what he had planned for her.  Surprise was one of his most effective weapons, so when he grabbed the thick purple butt plug he hid it from her view, holding it behind his back as he approached her again.  "Close your eyes," he commanded, knowing that she would hate the idea.  She hesitated for a moment, shooting him a nervous look.  "Do it now," he insisted, his voice cold and hard as granite.  "Or would you rather I used a blindfold?"

Her eyes shut instantly; she hated the blindfold even more.  The darkness bothered her, made her feel vulnerable.  Then again, she was naked, chained, and at his mercy.  She couldn't get a whole lot more vulnerable than that.

Once he was sure that her eyes were closed, he brought his fingers to her pussy, gently pushing back the folds to steal some of the moisture hidden between them.  She was incredibly wet and hot, and when he sunk a finger, and then two, inside of her, she groaned and pushed back against him, trying to draw the fingers in deeper.

He smiled at her impudence, giving her a sharp smack on the ass to stop her movements.  "This is supposed to be a punishment, remember?"

Willow groaned again as he withdrew his fingers.  She could sense an ulterior motive to the teasing pleasure he had given her, and wondered apprehensively just what he was up to.  When she heard his almost gleeful laugh she knew she wouldn't have to wait much longer.

There was a sense of movement, and then she felt the tip of something pressed against her ass.  "No," she cried unthinkingly, immediately clamping her lips shut.  But it was too late.  The words were said and there was no way to unsay them.

"No?" he inquired mockingly.  His tone of voice confused her; she couldn't tell if he was angry or amused.  Maybe it was a little of both.  With her eyes closed it was impossible to tell.  Yet she didn't dare open them, fearful of the response she would get if he caught her.  And he always did.

"Please," she begged, groaning slightly as he slipped more of the hard slick object past the ring of her asshole.  More and more of it entered her relentlessly, getting thicker as it did.  The muscles of her asshole clenched and burned, but there was nothing she could do to stop him.  The pain increased slowly, and then exploded exponentially as he gave the object a brutal shove, and then blessedly lessened when the widest part of the plug was deep within her.

The sound of her screams echoed in the room and Angelus smiled wickedly.  She had finally given him what he wanted, and he reveled in the knowledge of it.  He watched the base of the butt plug, clenched hard between the tensing cheeks of her ass.  His finger came up to it, pressing it deeper and then drawing back a bit, fucking it into her and then releasing it again and again.

Her face was set in tense lines as he teased her, her eyes still scrunched tightly closed.  "Don't care for this much, do you?" he murmured, bringing his face next to hers and kissing her cheek gently. "Open your eyes," he demanded, eager to see what they would hold.

She was angry and aching and beyond all of that, still incredibly aroused.  All of those emotions swam behind her eyes, and he chuckled softly with the knowledge of it.  "I do love you," he whispered softly, his voice oddly gentle.  His hand reached out to run over her hair, a long, gentle caress.

And strangely enough, Willow knew it was true.  The things he did to her he did because he enjoyed them, but also because he enjoyed doing them *to her*.  He could fuck and hurt any human anywhere, but the fact that she allowed him do it to her endeared her to his heart and his demon more than he would ever be able to express.  It bothered him sometimes, like tonight, and he fought against it.  Against her.  But it always ended like this, with him proclaiming his love awkwardly, almost angrily, and her accepting it gladly.

"I know," she answered, as she always did.  "I love you too."

Willow felt his hands on her hips, fingers digging in enough to leave bruises later, and then he entered her.  Usually it was fast and hard, but this time it was slow, almost tentative.  She pushed back hard against him, trying to drive him deeper.  When her ass collided with his abdomen it pushed the butt plug deeper and she immediately pulled back with a sharp gasp of pain.  A deep chuckle filled the air and Angelus pulled her back towards him slowly, entering her again, excruciatingly slowly, until her ass once again rested loosely against his abdomen.

Angelus took her slowly this time, deep long slow glides in and out, mindful of the butt plug and the pain it could cause her.  His first thought was to remove it, but he liked the way it felt as he stroked inside her, and the way that it forced her to stay still and let him control their coupling.

"Would you like to come?" he asked playfully.  He could see the emotions in her eyes, the urge to tell him to go to hell, quickly stifled.  A wicked grin quirked his lips as he reached his hand around to her clit, quickly attacking it with his talented fingers.

Willow had been on the verge of an orgasm for hours, the pain and the pleasure mixing perfectly to leave her deliciously on edge.  Angelus seemed to know the secret to keeping her there on that knife's edge, and she resented it almost as much as she craved it.  "Yes," she pleaded, trying to widen her stance even more to help him out.  His cock brushed her g-spot with every thrust, and soon she was pushing herself back against him, ignoring the pain of the butt plug completely in her urgent need to come.

Angelus felt his own release building within him and quickened his thrusts, the feel of the butt plug against his cock like a gentle caress.  Soon he could hold back no longer, and with a growl he thrust into her one last time, shooting his seed deep inside her.  At the same time, his fingers squeezed her clit, twisting it as he pulled.  Willow screamed again, her head fell back against his shoulder and her pussy milked his cock as she came hard, the grip of her inner muscles around his cock almost painful.

Her body was inert; only the press of his cock and the weight of her head on his shoulder kept her upright.  She had passed out, he realized.  The beat of her heart was strong and steady, the rise and fall of her chest regular and strong, so he knew that she would come to soon.  Taking advantage of her condition, he gently worked the butt plug free, throwing it towards the bathroom to be washed later, when his hands weren't full of unconscious redhead.

Releasing her from the bonds, he laid her out on the bed, covering her body with a light cotton sheet.  Her lips quirked into a smile as he kissed them, signaling that she was just fine.  He turned and headed for the door, closing it quietly behind him as he went out in search of dinner.  He had worked up quite an appetite; it would take more than one happy meal to satisfy him tonight.

~~~*~~~

Willow was up and sitting at the desk of the luxurious hotel room three hours later, her glance curious as she watched the people on the street below.  It was almost midnight in the City of Lights, but the hum of revelers and partiers drifted up to her second-story room through the open window, along with a soft, cool breeze.

She loved Paris, just as she had known she would.  They had headed here straight from Sunnydale, not even bothering to stop at her one-time home to scramble through what meager possessions she owned.  Angelus had promised to take care of everything, and he had.

Hidden bank accounts in numerous cities had paved the way for a comfortable trans-Atlantic flight to Paris under the names of Spike and Drusilla Johnson, the names a not-so-subtle stroke of whimsy on Angelus' part.  He missed his childer, and hoped that they would be a family some day soon, but he seemed to be content to leave them to their own devices until they were ready to return to him of their own volition.  He had plenty of other things to keep him busy in the meantime.

From there, Angelus had taken her shopping at some of the most elegant, and pricey, boutiques in the city.  Being Willow, she would have been content to dress in sweat pants and a tank top, but she humored him, allowing him to dress her like a human doll.

He was out there now, picking up the last of his purchases, along with a quick meal for himself.  Willow shook her head at the euphemism.  He was feeding.  There was nothing civilized or cordial about it.  He was killing another human so that he could survive.  She was okay with that, even though she knew she shouldn't be.

Standing and stretching her body, she felt a small twinge of pain as she worked out the kinks in her back and neck.  Curious, she turned her back to the mirror, looking over her shoulder as she lifted the hem of her gauzy cobalt blue blouse.  As she expected, several red welts still criss-crossed her back, reminders of her 'punishment' earlier that evening.

Her healing was amazingly quick, although it wasn't quite as fast as his was, a fact that she was sure he enjoyed.  After all, what was the point in punishing someone if you were able to watch them heal before your eyes?  And he definitely still had issues to work out over her part in his re-cursing five years ago.

If laying a lash upon her back, and fucking her until she came like a freight train made him feel better, then who was she to argue?

Shaking her head slightly, she wandered back over to the desk, perching nervously on the chair.  She had promised herself she would do this, not just for her sake, but for everyone's.  But now that the time had come, she just wasn't sure it was possible.

A piece of paper lay centered on the desk, a cheap pen supplied by the hotel next to it.  Grasping the pen, she put it to paper and tried to organize her thoughts.

She had dreamed of this moment a dozen times over the last several days, but now that she had actually sat down to write, the well-crafted words she had planned were nowhere to be found.  The blank page looked back at her, mocking her efforts, and she laid her head down on the desk in dismay.

Maybe music would help.  She fiddled with the small clock radio, finding something sad and angsty, so very French.  She spoke a couple of words here and there, and was able to pick up enough to know that the singer was a woman mourning a lost love.

Lost love...the thought spurred her on, and she picked up her pen again, plucking words out of the air and setting them to paper.

Dear Friends,

I guess you know by now that I'm gone.  And you've probably guessed with whom as well.  But I guess I should just say the words, get them out in the open.  I'm with Angelus.  And what's more, I'm with him willingly.

The reason I'm telling you this is because I don't want you to come after me.  Ever.  We have a deal, he and I.  As long as none of you come after him, he won't come after you.  Seems pretty simple, but of course it never is, not where emotions are involved.

I love him.  Yeah, you heard me.  I do.  I won't go into the details, just know that it's true, and that he loves me too.

Go and live your lives, make every day count, love each other, and all of those other cliched phrases.  If you need to forget me in order to find your peace, then do that.  I won't blame you.

Just be happy, okay?

Like I am.

I love you all,

Willow

The End

back