The Art of the Possible

Author: Lisa

Parts: 21 - 30

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~Part: 21~

Luxuriating in a hot bath was one of life’s grand pleasures, especially for a vampire who was usually without body heat. At this moment, Angelus felt like he could stay in the bathtub indefinitely. The scented water was glorious and the view superb: Willow was sitting across from him looking radiant. She had a glass of red wine dangling from her elegantly painted fingertips, her arm hanging negligently out of the tub. Her hair was a mass of soft curls pinned casually yet alluringly up to keep them out of the water. Her toenails were painted red to match her fingers and she was absently running her toes across his chest, deep in thought.

In the glow of the candlelight in the bathroom, she looked sexier than he had ever seen her. Hmm, he thought, not sexier…maybe more worldly. Yes, that was it. Kind of. He took a sip of scotch as he continued to study her. The new look she sported: manicured nails, new hairstyle, plucked eyebrows, was more polished…and she looked more comfortable in her own skin. It was as if today’s makeover and spa treatment had changed her perception of herself. As if the majority of the change had taken place within her.

Today had been busy. The women that came to take care of Willow were all he could ask for. They didn’t make her feel self-conscious or awkward for one moment. Instead of making her feel unattractive by wanting to make changes, they said things like, “Oh, your eyes are so lovely, how about we tweeze your eyebrows to show them off?” It went on and on like that, and as the day wore on, he could actually see Willow begin to see herself as the beautiful young woman she was.

They had left the length in her hair, but expertly added layers, revealing a slight natural curl that hadn’t been apparent before. Now she could just muss it as she blew it dry, and it would softly curl around her face and down her back. She loved it; he had smiled as she played with the movement today, swinging her head around. Now she could have a beautiful style without being a slave to fixing it. Later, after they gave her time to make sure she was happy with the new look, they added hot rollers and showed her how to fix it if she should feel like something different or dressier.

Willow had had a ball and now owned more beauty products than she had previously thought she would ever want. Angelus had had fun too. Watching her have such a good time being pampered pleased him very much. He had no idea how much of this stuff she would stick with once the novelty wore off since she wasn’t a vain person. But it didn’t matter, she felt beautiful and deserving, and that had been his objective. Besides, with all of that ‘permanent make-up’ stuff they had done, which he’d never heard of before, he wasn’t sure that too much effort was required on her part anyway. In his opinion, Willow was incredibly lovely without any enhancements.

The object of his ruminations began to circle one of his nipples with her big toe. “What are you thinking about, Angelus? You’ve been quiet for a long time.”

He took her foot and began to massage her arch. With a salacious smirk, he said, “You. As usual. How delectable you looked with a head full of rollers, how cute and serious you were when you were memorizing all the beauty tips the ladies gave you as they applied…stuff, how charming and irresistible everybody found you.” He raised an eyebrow, “How incredibly seductive you look lounging over there right now.”

She gave him a flirty smile and began to toy with his other nipple with the foot he hadn’t captured. “Oh. Well, in that case, sorry I interrupted. Feel free to go back to your thoughts. *After* you add some more hot water, that is.”

Angelus chuckled as he turned the hot water tap. “Yes dear. Is there anything else I can do to please milady?”

Willow snorted as she took a sip of wine before setting the glass down. “That’s rich coming from Mr. Bossy and Arrogant!” She sensually zigzagged her free foot across his chest and down his stomach. “Besides, the faucet’s in the middle and your long arms reach without having to move. It feels so great in here; I don’t want to budge. Maybe never.”

“Mmmm,” he moaned as she began to run her toes up one side of his cock and down the other, pausing to tease his balls. “I’m magnanimously choosing to ignore the bossy and arrogant remark. Will the rewards for doing your bidding always be this great?” He leaned his head back to rest on the marble tub and purred.

Willow giggled. “Yes. Yes, they will. But this bathtub is so big, I almost can’t reach you with my feet.”

Raising his head, he retrieved her teasing foot and began to massage it along with the other one. He gave her a dazzling smile and said, “As much as I love being fondled by your sexy toes, our bath time will be cut short by my hard cock demanding favors if you keep it up.”

She gave him a saucy look, “It’s already hard.”

“True, but we haven’t reached the ‘point of no return’ yet and you look far too content over there to let me have my wicked way with you at the moment.”

Willow raised her arms and rested them on the sides of the tub with a sigh. “You’ve got me there. It’s pretty impressive that you can give such a good massage with just one hand. Getting both feet tended to at once feels sooo good.” She smiled contentedly, “I’ve never felt so relaxed and unwilling to move in my whole life. Angelus, you take such good care of me.”

Her heartfelt words felt better to him than he ever would’ve imagined. They needed to incorporate this bathing ritual into their daily routine. The soothing water, candlelight and closeness was so intimate. He enjoyed how sensual it felt, being with her this way. “Spoiling you is a pleasure, my own.”

Willow leisurely wiggled her toes as he expertly manipulated every inch of her feet and murmured, “Thank you for today. I was sure I would hate it, but it was awesome. It’s like…um…being a girl felt so fun. Everyone was so nice and made me feel good…and girly.”

Angelus listened with a soft smile as she continued.

“You know, I thought it would be a bunch of, of ‘Cordelias’ telling me what was wrong with me…being all ‘Your hair is hopeless’…and, you know, ‘blah blah blah, plain plain plain’.”

Suddenly, Willow slapped her hands on the tub where they had been resting and gave him what he thought was the most adorable scowl, “And you know what, Angelus?” she demanded.

He looked very serious, careful not to give away his amusement at her snit. Attentively, he asked, “No, darling, what?”

Lines appeared between her eyes and she peered at him intently, “I’m thinking Cordelia and all those other mean girls were *wrong*. Adelaide and Carmen and Giselle and, and Christine, they know about that stuff and *they* think I look great. It was just dumb for me to let stuck-up, hateful girls make me feel all…all ugly and dowdy just because I’m different.” With great resolve, she continued, “Well, I’m just not going to let people make me feel that way anymore.” She gave the bathtub another slap for emphasis.

Angelus was thrilled. This was a banner day indeed. He’d seen it coming, of course, but a person’s self-image didn’t change overnight, just as it wasn’t constructed overnight to begin with. And Willow’s had been beaten down over a lifetime, he thought; a lot of longstanding notions had to be reconsidered and overcome. “Good for you, sweetheart. You’re uncommonly beautiful with your flawless alabaster skin, thick, lustrous red hair, exquisite eyes….”

A flustered Willow interrupted and pursed her lips, “Well, I wouldn’t go *that* far…but, thank you.”

“Well *I* certainly would go that far…further if you’d have let me.” He pressed a kiss to her toes. “It’s true, you’re incredibly lovely, and I’m delighted to hear that you’re no longer entirely blind to it.”

Willow gave him a sweet smile.

Angelus felt he’d played a part today in some of her newly acquired confidence. He hadn’t even had to do anything different. All he’d had to do was be himself; the indulgent, attentive lover that he was. After her confessing her love for him this morning, he’d remained consistent. That was the test, after all. She was afraid that he was going to repudiate her, cut and run. Certainly his behavior conveyed that his adoration hadn’t ebbed in the least. In fact, if anything, he was more doting. This morning’s admission had been frightening for her, risky in her eyes, and he was happy to reward her courage with proof that her fears were unwarranted.

Stroking his feet, which were tucked around her, she said with a satisfied sigh, “Today was almost perfect.”

Willow’s attentions felt so good, it took a second for her words to penetrate Angelus’ brain. “Almost,” he drawled finally, when her words sunk in. “That’s unfortunate, dearest. What prevented perfection?” He opened his eyes and her look of regret surprised him, he couldn’t imagine what was troubling her.

“Oh,” she said, now including his calves and shins with the stroking of his feet. “The e-mails.”

Angelus was incredulous. Today had been specifically designed to be a day of pleasant surprises for her. Of course, he thought with disgust, leave it to her idiot friends to fuck up a perfectly lovely day. Schooling his features to show concern, and not irritation at the troublemakers, he asked, “What was said to upset you?”

“Oh, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. It was so great to sit there and read through them while I got my pedicure. It was all, you know, decadent and luxurious. But…well, Buffy kind of made me feel bad.” She said the last part with a scrunched up face.

He should’ve known! Stupid bitch Slayer. He’d said it before, and he’d say it again, that girl could fuck up a wet dream. Suppressing Slayer loathing, he asked, “How so?”

Willow’s face now exhibited an expression exclusive to her: selflessness with sweet concern for others. Gesturing vaguely toward Sunnydale, she said, “There she is, all sad and brokenhearted over losing Angel, and here I am,” now she gestured toward him, herself, and the bathroom at large, “falling in love, being spoiled, and having the time of my life.” She gave him ‘you know what I mean’ face. “Not only that, but…well, you’re *not* Angel, but still. I’m all, having sex and getting naked and taking baths with her, her…well, the love of her life’s body. Sheesh,” she said blinking. “It’s really confusing. You know, the part where you *are*, but *aren’t* Angel. Makes me feel bad. Kind of. I mean, I feel so good, which makes me feel bad. Angel’s gone and I can’t help that. Neither can you, for that matter.”

Angelus wanted to hoot with laughter, but that would be unwise. Willow would not appreciate how the situation amused the hell out of him. Adopting a sympathetic expression, he nodded sagely, “I can see how Buffy’s grief makes you sad. I’m sorry, darling. It’s a shame that her loss was our gain. But even though she isn’t aware of our relationship, and definitely wouldn’t approve of it if she was, she is your friend and wants you to be happy. You’re not doing anything wrong by loving me. The loss of her…boyfriend isn’t anything we caused or can help. You’re a good friend to her, and by continuing to be so, you’re doing what you can for her.”

Ugh. That little speech repulsed him, but Willow looked somewhat happier. “Tomorrow you can take over the e-mail correspondence.” He didn’t add that he’d be pre-approving any outgoing e-mail. Not that Willow would try to send anything without checking with him, but just in case, he’d had a computer expert implement a system where things would appear to go out, but be intercepted by a holding account so he could look them over before they continued onto their destination. The same system applied to incoming e-mails on the off chance something from one of her friends, most likely Buffy, sent something that he might find…not in his best interest or that didn’t reflect well on him. It was just best for now that everything was monitored, it didn’t hurt to be careful.

Willow squeezed his legs and smiled. “That’s so great. Thank you. I’ll feel better when I can write to her myself. But, you know, whoever’s been sending the e-mails, pretending to be me, has done a *really* good job. *I* wouldn’t know they weren’t from me, if I didn’t *know* they aren’t from me. You know?”

Angelus laughed out loud. He was relieved that a weight was off of her mind and he loved it when she used ‘Willow-speak’. Her mannerisms and speech patterns were priceless. “Good. I’m glad you approve of how you were represented. Did you enjoy the rest of the e-mails?”

Willow snorted and rolled her eyes. “Yes. Xander sure isn’t sorry that Angel’s gone. He went on and on about how he’s glad ‘Deadboy’ is history. He’s so glad that it’s causing friction in his relationship with Cordelia…she’s pretty annoyed that Buffy’s single and feels threatened. And *that* makes me happy. Cordelia is just bad news from the word go.” She wrinkled her nose, “It’s kind of big confusing circle, isn’t it?”

Angelus smirked, “It is. But I got the best part of the whole deal, so I can’t complain. My soul is gone and I have you. Things have never been better from where I’m sitting.”

Willow grinned. “Such sweet words. Loving a demon doesn’t seem so crazy when you talk like that!”

This was the first time she’d made reference to loving him since her initial admission that morning. During the course of the day, the only indication he’d seen of it was watchfulness on her part for signs of having alienated him. Willow was in love with him…so much so that she’d felt the need to say it out loud. He’d been internally preening ever since. Another reference to it now, and casual conversational acceptance that he was a demon, was marvelous. She was completely ensnared…by her own feelings, no less. He wanted to crow from the rooftops at this turn of events. Visible gloating wouldn’t serve his purpose very well, so he’d just have to celebrate by taking her to bed and fucking the daylights out of her. Lifting her feet, he examined the soles. “You’re pruney, my sweet. How about we dry off and I carry you off to bed and make love to you until we pass out?”

Willow waggled her eyebrows invitingly and he dove for her.

~Part: 22~

Gut wounds were the worst. Jesus! And ‘gang banger chicks’ were vicious, dangerous little cunts. Angelus was certainly not going to feed on *them* anymore. He was royally pissed off. Last night he’d been injured and the residual pain was really annoying.

He hunted and fed several times a week and had become creative in the locales that he chose for his excursions. He avoided Sunnydale as much as he could, not wanting to encounter that thrice damned Slayer or anyone else Willow might be in contact with; he didn’t want word of his misdeeds getting back to her or to have run-ins with her friends. She might ignore his activities in *theory*, but if they became actual events that she was aware of, it might pose problems. Plus, she wouldn’t look kindly on him getting into…‘tiffs’ with her friends.

In the continuing effort to stay out of Willow’s hometown, last night he’d ventured to some trashy little burg 50 miles away to feed and wreak havoc. That’s where he’d encountered the source of his present aggravation. Things started out fine: he’d feasted on a couple of high school jocks. They were from out-of-town and were looking for trouble; he’d been happy to oblige.

When he’d seen the angry young woman with multiple piercings and tattoos, he’d thought she was just the ticket to follow up with. Things looked even more promising when she’d warned him not to ‘fuck with *this* gang banger chick’. It turned out that she’d had a good point…in more ways than one. When he’d gone for her jugular, she’d quickly produced a switchblade. That’s when things took a shitty turn. With catlike agility, the little bitch had sunk the knife into his stomach, then his thigh. Even in his present state of discomfort, he had to smile at the price she’d paid for her transgressions. He would’ve liked to have stabbed her, as she had him, but hadn’t wanted to waste her blood. Instead, he’d beat the crap out of her until she was “convinced” to beg him to fuck her in every orifice. Humble begging didn’t come easily from that type, so when he’d achieved it, it had been especially gratifying. He grinned wickedly at the memory: that part had been a gas.

Her blood was fantastic; she’d tasted of hate, rage, fear *and* resignation. She was a drug user and the cocaine in her system had been a bonus. Expedient too, because his injuries had hurt like a sonofabitch and the high had given him the energy he’d needed to procure bandages and a hotel room to clean up in. Going home to Willow in that state hadn’t even been a consideration. He kept extra clothes in the car for just such contingencies. In short order he’d gotten clean, bandaged, and dressed. He hadn’t even had to get the car bloody. Cocaine sure had a lot to recommend it: even with the unplanned foray into rape and torture, he’d gotten home in good time.

He’d explained his injuries by saying he’d been attacked by a knife-wielding demon that hated vampires. Willow had seemed to accept that, and it certainly wasn’t far from the truth.

Now if he could just find her. She’d been curled up on the couch in her old bedroom watching television earlier when he’d gone off to do paperwork. Willow had insisted on writing thank you notes to the ladies from Service, Inc. who had been so good to her. It had been his intention to send them fat bonuses anyway for their significant contributions to his darling girl’s rapidly improving self-image. He’d written the checks, enclosed them with Willow’s missives, and sent James off to mail them.

Now that he’d accomplished that task, and finished attending to his daily business, he was seeking out Willow to entertain him. The knife wounds were deep, therefore slower to heal, and he was limping and keeping a hand pressed to his gut as he sought out his woman. He was somewhat healed on the outside, so at least he didn’t have to contend with bleeding anymore, but inside he was tender. Moving pained him, which caused his temper to worsen with each step.

He was aware that it had become his habit to look to Willow for comfort when anything bothered him. It was disgusting ‘mama’s boy’ behavior that he acknowledged as pathetic…but godamnit, he liked it when Willow cooed and fussed. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone besides him and Willow knew he was acting like a pussy. She loved it, caretaker that she was, so it was favorable in that regard, as well.

In a travesty against manhood, he finally decided to ask for help. The upstairs maid was making up the bed, so he stuck his head in and asked Willow’s whereabouts.

Ah. No wonder he couldn’t find her. She was outside telling the gardeners what kind of flowers she wanted planted. Since it was mid-afternoon, looking outside hadn’t even occurred to him. He had to descend the cursed stairs yet again. Fuck me, he thought, all I keep doing is aggravating my injuries.

Fortunately, he located Willow at the first window he peeked out of in the library and hadn’t had to go traipsing around to every downstairs window they had. The sun was pretty far up onto the patio, so he couldn’t go out. Oh well, he’d just wait. It was amusing watching her talk with her hands anyway. He chuckled as she made big gestures and pointed this way and that. It looked more like she was directing traffic than planning flowerbeds. Just being in proximity to her cheered his foul humor somewhat.

It pleased him that Willow had undertaken a housewife role in their home. It suited his 18th century sensibilities. The staff worshipped the ground she walked on and strove to oblige her every request. It also demonstrated that she considered this home. She was dug in here. Taking charge of such a large household and staff was no small feat and further illustrated how far she’d come from the shrinking violet he’d abducted.

Damn, Willow was taking a long time. She sure could talk up a storm, and he was getting sick of waiting. She wasn’t so entertaining now that the hand motions had stopped; she looked very serious, in fact. Tiring of looking out the window, he went to the computer to see how the stock market had done today. Shit. He was down several thousand dollars. It seemed like he was destined to have a day where every damned thing that happened conspired to worsen his mood.

Back to the window. She was still at it. He hadn’t given the gardener a second glance before, and now that he did, he didn’t like what he saw: some young stud he hadn’t seen before. Shirtless. The boy must work out, he thought with a grunt. He frowned when Willow laughed, and growled when she reached out to pat the guy’s arm. Flowers weren’t fucking funny, he fumed. What the hell were they talking about out there?

Godamnit. His gut hurt, his leg hurt, and Willow was out there having a grand ole time. As he continued to watch, the guy bent over and snipped a rose with his gardening tool. After carefully de-thorning it, the fucking asshole presented it to her with a toothy grin. This was outrageous!

Willow gave him a dazzling smile and sniffed the rose, looking at him flirtatiously through her eyelashes. Angelus was furious. WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?

He jerked the door open and heard Willow giggle and say, “Sure, Sam, call me anytime.” Oh, that fucking little slut!

“WILLOW!” he bellowed.

She glanced toward the door, waved and called, “Be right there, Angelus,” and patted the bastard’s arm *again* as she said her goodbyes.

“WILLOW, GET YOUR FUCKING ASS IN HERE *NOW*!”

That got her attention. She looked his way in shock and hurried towards him, turning to wave at her new conquest, her embarrassment at the nature of the summons apparent.

The second she was within range, he grabbed her arm and dragged her into the room. She started to say something, but was cut off when he backhanded her across the face and knocked her to the floor. Bending over, he grasped her elbows and pulled her to her feet. She was crying now and tried to speak again, but he interrupted her. “Don’t make a fucking sound.” He shook her for emphasis. “We’re going to discuss this in relative privacy upstairs; the whole house doesn’t need to know that you’ve been acting like a fucking whore.”

She stared at him in shock with blood and tears running down her face before he wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled her along. She struggled to keep up with him from the painful and awkward position, but kept tripping and crying out when they were going up the stairs.

When they reached her old bedroom--he didn’t want her in the one they shared--he shoved her in, entered, and slammed the door behind him. She stumbled several feet before she caught her balance. “Did you think you could get away with acting like that, Willow?” Angelus demanded. “Making a fool out of me with some…some gardener?”

Sobbing in earnest, she could barely speak, “What, what…I don’t understand.”

Angelus was seeing red; he couldn’t begin to think straight in his state of fury. “Shut up! I don’t want to hear a peep out of you.” He stalked towards her menacingly, “Do you understand me, Willow?” he yelled.

She gasped for air, “But, but…what happ…?”

Whack! He backhanded her again, so hard that his knuckles were bleeding from contact with her teeth. He grabbed the front of her dress and hauled her to the bed. The tears and blood had made a mess of her face and were now in her hair and on her dress. The right side of her face was swelling significantly and blood was coming from her nose and split lip.

Through gritted teeth he said, “When I say shut up, I goddamned mean it.” She gazed back with a blank look. “Nod if you understand.”

She nodded and hiccupped from trying to suppress crying sounds.

He was beginning to regret his actions. He might’ve been rash and acted precipitously. Maybe he should’ve demanded an accounting of the entire conversation she’d been having first. Too late. He certainly wasn’t going to back down, though; she had to see the error of her ways. He had zero tolerance for that sort of sluttish behavior and she had to learn her lesson.

God, his wounds hurt. Gathering his thoughts, he placed his hands on his hips and looked down at Willow, sitting on the bed, looking for all the world like she had no idea what had just happened.

“You are *mine* Willow. You belong to me. You will never again act like some common whore. Do you hear me?”

Tears continued to pour down her face and she nodded.

“If I ever see you flirting with another man again, I will kill you. Both of you. Is that perfectly clear?”

She nodded again.

“Now, go clean yourself up. You’re a mess. When you get out of the shower you’re going to *show* me who you belong to. And you’d damned well better make it good. So be thinking of that while you’re in there.”

Willow rose to do as she was told, but was too intimidated to walk past him. He moved to accommodate her.

Grabbing a couple of Kleenex to wipe his hand with, he took a seat on the bed. Shit, he thought. He’d certainly not meant for any of *that* to happen. Under no circumstances would he have been okay with Willow having that conversation with the gardener, but he certainly could’ve handled it better. If he hadn’t been cranky and in pain, he surely would’ve. He had a hellish temper and once it was unleashed, it needed to run its course. Unfortunately, often after it had, he was left with situations that he wished he hadn’t caused. Like now.

He could say whatever he wanted, but the truth was that Willow being Willow, it was extremely unlikely that the conversation that pissed him off so much had been anything untoward. Nevertheless, she had been out there doing what *looked* exactly liked flirting where anyone might see her. That was unacceptable. She was *his* and it was imperative that he drive the point home to her that she was not to participate in any behavior or activity that might make it look otherwise. He would not be made to look a fool and that was that.

Tossing the tissues to the nightstand, he scrubbed his face and hair harshly with his hands. It was likely that Willow had learned the lesson he had wanted her to, but at what cost to him? To both of them? He growled. He’d just have to wait and see how the situation played out. Rummaging through Willow’s nightstand, he found what he was looking for: cigarettes he’d left there. He desperately needed a smoke right now.

He lit up and went to the fireplace to lean on the mantle. Staring into the empty grate, he thought, at least Willow had seen his temper now. It was inevitable, after all. Maybe it was better sooner than later. The blow-dryer went on in the bathroom; she wouldn’t be long now.

She had looked bad when she’d gone to clean up. No doubt that eye would be swelling shut. God, he hoped he hadn’t broken her nose. Suddenly he had an idea. Flicking his cigarette into the fireplace, he headed to the cabinet by the entertainment center and fetched a bottle of red wine. He grabbed the corkscrew and opened the bottle, pouring some into a glass. He sliced his wrist with his fang and dribbled blood into the wine. He licked his wrist to close the wound and swirled the wine with his finger. He’d never done this before, but knew his blood would speed her recovery; he’d heard of it being done successfully.

She emerged from the bathroom in a long white satin robe, looking very young and virginal. And very bruised.

When she saw him, she approached with trepidation, clearly terrified of what he might do next, and he held the wineglass out to her.

She shook her head nervously, “No, tha…”

“Please. Take it. It’ll make you feel better.”

She looked at him suspiciously, but took the glass in her shaking hand and sipped. She swallowed, looked into the glass, then drank the rest down quickly.

Angelus was surprised by her response, but they could discuss the fact that she had unknowingly drunk his blood, and appeared to like it, later. He was going to let her make the first move. He had already screwed things up enough and was, frankly, curious about what she would do. The scent of her fear was intoxicating and he was striving to suppress his demon’s reaction to the situation.

Willow went to the bed, and, in a quivery voice, said, “My knees are shaky, I have to sit.” As she gingerly sat down, she went on, “You can hit me for speaking if you want, but I have to say something.” She watched warily to see what he intended to do.

He approached and sat down next to her, careful not to make any sudden or threatening movements. “Go on.”

She nodded and squared her shoulders, looking him in the eye. Her heart was beating very fast. In an unsteady voice, she said, “I didn’t do anything wrong, Angelus. I didn’t say anything or do anything to flirt with Sam. I thought about it and, and I can see where it could look suspicious if you just saw things through the window without hearing what was being said. So, in that way, I can see that you might get kind of mad. But not mad like you did.” She swallowed hard, “That was…it was wrong to hit me.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, “I love you. I try so hard to make you happy and,” she began to cry harder, “you did this,” she motioned to her face, “to me.”

She buried her swollen, bruised face in her hands and sobbed brokenly.

Angelus placed his hand on her shoulder gently, “Willow, I handled things badly.”

“Ya think?” she gasped through her tears.

His voice was gentle, but firm, “But, sweetheart, you’ve got to understand that even the appearance of flirting with another man is intolerable.”

With an expression bordering on mutinous, she snapped, “Is this a vampire thing? Because I’m thinking even though things were very different, way back when you were human, men and women talked and laughed in social situations that WEREN’T sexual.”

Fortunately his temper wasn’t flaring, and her attitude wasn’t igniting his anger again. Self-preservation must be prevailing, he thought. Willow’s courage made him proud as hell. Even though he had been an enraged maniac and knocked the shit out of her, she was standing up to him…despite the fact that she was scared to death. His concerns that his actions had decimated the self-confidence he had striven for her to gain were apparently unfounded.

Angelus felt like fidgeting, but wouldn’t allow himself to do it. He didn’t know the exact answer himself, so he’d just explain what went on in his head as best he could. “Vampires are very possessive, Willow. But I was unreasonably jealous when I was human, too, so I don’t precisely know the answer to your question. I do know that being possessive and having a temper can be…sometimes the results are… regrettable.”

Willow looked thoughtful. What he said seemed to make sense to her. Finally, she nodded and said, “I think if I saw what I thought was you flirting with another woman, I would want to hit you too. I couldn’t do this to you,” she motioned to her face again, which was improving as a result of his blood, “but I might want to try.”

He couldn’t help it, he laughed out loud. She said the most unexpected things. “I’m sorry for laughing, Willow, but you have the damnedest knack for saying things I least expect.”

She gave him a small, rueful smile that did nothing to diminish her look of desolation.

It occurred to him that if Willow knew all the things he did with other women, she’d want to do a hell of a lot more than backhand him. Well, no worries there, she wasn’t *going* to know, he thought smugly.

Right now, he had to focus all of his energies on salvaging this situation as best he could. Angelus’ countenance became very serious and he conveyed enough shame and regret with his eyes to rival Angel. That’s all he had. ‘I’m sorry, can you forgive me?’ seemed too lame to even attempt. Willow looked utterly pitiful, both from her injuries and expression; the right words in the face of that were difficult to come up with. Both of them sitting there looking like wounded lambs wasn’t doing anything to rectify the situation, he thought irritably. With a mental sigh, he decided to just plunge in and be as honest as he could. While she couldn’t detect lies from him in the normal course of things, she invariably seemed to react positively to blatant honesty…well, what she perceived as such, because almost always the closest he came was only damn near blatant honesty.

In what was only partially an affectation, he ran his hands over his face and through his hair in abject misery. Emanating every ounce of sincerity that he could muster, he said, “Willow, hurting you is the last thing I wanted to do….” He had to be careful, he wanted to get this right.

Her sad expression was attentive. She was listening. That boded well, he hoped. She easily could’ve told him to get the hell out of her sight.

He took a deep breath and started again. “I was an asshole and I’m very sorry for that.” Looking deeply into her eyes, he continued. “So *very* sorry. I’m a jealous bastard and there’s no denying it. Can you get past this and forgive me?” The pleading in his tone wasn’t feigned.

Willow studied him in silence for a long time. Finally she stood up and faced him, dropping her robe. “Look at me, Angelus,” she said with no emotion in her voice.

The wrong reaction could cost him significantly, so he carefully schooled his features. The robe had hidden bruises on her arms where he had gripped her; her knees were skinned and bruised. Her left leg, hip and ribs were mottled red, black and purple. And this was with his blood to aid in her healing. She was battered. The sight excited him, which he hid from her completely. But it also filled him with regret because of the damage it could cause to her feelings for him. The latter was all that he allowed to show on his face.

She retrieved her robe, tying it snugly and sat down on the bed. Looking at him with pain filled eyes, she said quietly, “I love you. I *still* love you. I know that and question myself. Logically, I’ve known from the get-go that being in a relationship with you would…have realities that aren’t pretty. Maybe I even knew to expect this at some point.”

She crossed her arms tightly in front of her as she stood up again and paced in front of him. Angelus watched her in silence and waited for her answer. He was fairly certain they both knew, ultimately, what it would be, but there was a lot of ground to cover before then. He also conceded that he had, on occasion, been wrong.

“Angelus, what you did hurt. You hurt my body, obviously. But you also humiliated me in front of whatever staff witnessed what happened. You treated me like a…a…a possession that doesn’t have feelings or deserve respect. Today the man I love beat me. When I imagined what my life would be, I *never* thought those words would be in my future.” She looked at him intently. “Now you ask me if I can get past this and forgive you. I don’t know. I don’t know if I can and still retain any self-respect. ‘Is it possible?’ I ask myself.” She stared at him hard, standing directly in front of him. “The big question is will it happen again?”

Angelus looked away. Honesty was necessary. Some things had to be faced and addressed straight on today. He’d felt from the beginning that he and Willow were meant to be. Forever. Therefore truths about one another would out. They were what they were. He looked back at her, his eyes beseeching her to see that he was being honest at great personal risk. “Probably. I’d love to say it won’t ever happen again. But, I’m a demon. Before that I was a man…and not a very nice one. Tales of my temper are legion.”

She dropped back to the bed, sitting tensely, and stared at him sadly.

Angelus straightened his back and continued, “I believe we are meant to be together. Despite my best efforts, I can be a bastard from time to time. But, Willow,” he stroked the side of her face, “I promise to cherish and adore you. I will always take care of you. No doubt loving a demon is hard for you; you are sweet and pure and good. If we’re to be together, compromise…on both our parts, is necessary. I may not deserve you, but I want you. Very much.”

He sighed and took her face in his hands tenderly. “Where we go from here is up to you. Consider all we’ve both said and decide what you want.” Angelus swallowed hard, barely able to form his next words. “If you decide to leave me, I won’t stand in your way.”

He kissed her lips softly and quietly left the room. Willow stared after him in shock.

~Part: 23~

Angelus paced the room and cursed himself repeatedly.  He was an idiot.  What on earth had possessed him to tell Willow she could leave?  Had he gone completely fucking nuts?  Apparently.  He couldn’t lose her.  That wasn’t acceptable.

The bedroom was stifling and added to his feelings of restlessness and frustration.  It was the same credit to good taste it had always been, but was quiet and still in a way that made him feel the entire world was empty except for him.  Willow’s presence was necessary to animate it.  Without her, it, and he himself, felt barren.  She was just down the hall, but the distance felt vast.

Flopping down on the bed, he winced.  His gut wound from the night before still pained him.  Gingerly, he bent down and removed his shoes and socks.  Actually, he did know what his reasoning had been at the moment he’d told her she could go if she chose.  He sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair, staring into space.  He’d felt confident Willow would stay and that by making her feel like she had a choice, she’d see how much she wanted to be with him.  It had been a gamble, one predicated by knowledge of how her mind worked.

He rose and resumed pacing.  He felt like a cat on a hot tin roof.  He hated variables, and that’s what he was facing now.

Willow had said that she loved him.  She’d said that his boorish behavior hadn’t been a complete shock.  Those things, combined with what he’d learned about her nature from living with her, had helped form his opinion that she would stay if she didn’t feel trapped.  Feeling trapped made people act rashly, and he didn’t want her feelings about him and their future together influenced by a knee-jerk reaction to a very unpleasant episode.  He wanted her to look at the big picture, the entirety of what they had shared since she had been with him.

They’d had glorious times together.  She’d grown a great deal and she’d learned there was much, much more to her than she had previously imagined.  By becoming cognizant of previously unrecognized qualities, she’d been able to expand on them.  Also, she’d come to see herself as a sexual being who was more than capable of pleasing a man.  She’d become a woman.  An impressive woman.

Therein lies the rub, he thought ruefully.  Impressive women had minds of their own, damn it.  Sure, it was a sexy, attractive trait, but hell.  Shit.  No doubt about it, insecure mice were much easier to manage.  But who the fuck wanted to be saddled with that kind of woman for all eternity?

Impatiently, he unbuttoned his shirt and untucked it.  It irked him to no end, but the fact of the matter was, for them to have the future he envisioned, she’d have to be allowed free will.  He worried his lower lip with his teeth in consternation.

Ultimately, he saw them traveling the world, living an adventurous, exciting life of wealth and privilege.  That couldn’t happen without an airtight commitment from her.  He needed to know that she wouldn’t bolt at the first sign of discord between them.  Her response to today’s conversation would demonstrate exactly where their relationship stood on that front.

Before he could even consider exposing her to the world outside of the estate’s gates, he needed to be confident that she understood how possessive he was.  Finally, he stopped pacing and sat in one of the wingchairs by the fireplace.  That was one thing he was fucking sure today’s debacle had accomplished, he thought with a growl of disgust.  Willow had seen how possessive he was.

She had experienced firsthand how irrational and brutal his jealousy could be.  On the one hand, he felt contempt at himself for his loss of control, on the other hand, he knew an outburst like that was inevitable sooner or later.  Absolutely, she needed to know his true colors and that he had no tolerance for flirtation, or anything resembling it, with other men.  But while it was necessary for her to know who he was and what he was about, had he sabotaged their future by a display of that magnitude this early on?

With things in their present state of jeopardy, he realized he’d made a strategic error.  He’d been feeling all noble about having a ‘real’ relationship, but, in reality, he hadn’t.  He’d still been controlling and game-playing by not coming clean about their shared dreams and his suspicions about their parallels as a couple with Genevieve and Nicholai.  If he’d told her about all of that, it might have impressed upon her their…inevitability.  And tied her to him.  He now felt he’d made a gross miscalculation by playing his cards so close to the vest.  Possibly.  Maybe.

He reclined in his chair and stretched his legs out.  What was done was done, he thought grumpily.  He’d just have to sit tight and await her response.

He tried to think of other things, but was unsuccessful.  Lighting a cigarette, he continued to torture himself with thoughts of what Willow might do.

As he watched smoke waft around him and sulked, he thought she might just pack up her beautiful new clothes and waltz out the front door with her newfound confidence and call out, “Adios Motherfucker,” over her elegant shoulder.  Okay, he conceded, odds were that Willow wouldn’t say motherfucker.  But still.  It could happen.  And who the hell could blame her?  Sure, he was a great lay and devilishly handsome, but he was also, in her probable present estimation, an evil asshole vampire with an irrationally violent temper.

Cringing, he took a deep drag from his cigarette and decided he’d dwell on his positive attributes.  Admitting the negative ones just made him panic and consider that she’d possibly be better off without him.  “Too late,” he said out loud, he was already infected with the negative thoughts.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” He yelled to the empty room.  A defeatist attitude wasn’t like him and he wasn’t enjoying it at all.  Sometimes, since Willow had become such an integral part of his existence, he didn’t even recognize himself anymore.  Clamping his cigarette between his teeth, he tore off his shirt and threw it across the room.  Throwing something had felt calming, so he threw the cigarette into the empty fireplace grate.  Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands, and examined his toes.  That made him smile.  Willow loved his feet.  In fact, one of her favorite things was when he was dressed like he was now…just pants with no shirt and no shoes.  She thought it was very sexy.  In fact, she thought he was just sexy period.  Pondering how much she craved his body cheered him significantly.

This is bullshit, he thought.  His plan to wait for Willow to come to him with her decision wasn’t working for him.  He was a powerful vampire of action, not some impotent moper, for chrissake.

He stood, squared his shoulders, and headed to Willow’s former room with resolve and determination.

Letting her think things over alone was foolish and an unnecessary risk.  He’d utilize his assets and influence her thought process.  What the hell good were charm and good looks if one didn’t use them to get what they wanted?

When he reached her door, he took a moment to organize his thoughts.  Deciding not to knock, he opened the door and strolled in.  Willow was standing with her back to the window, deep in thought, pinching her lower lip between two prettily manicured fingers.

She looked at him in surprise, and not, he was pleased to note, in fear.  There was virtually no sign of her earlier injuries and she looked especially lovely.  His blood appeared to have done more than just help her heal.  Interesting.  She had a…glow about her.  And not just from her white satin robe and long shiny hair.  They studied each other and he was pretty sure she was enjoying the view as much as he was.  Yep, he thought smugly, no shirt and shoes affected her.

Slowly, he approached her and smiled.  “You look very pretty standing there, sweetheart.”

She harrumphed and said, “Don’t you mean you like watching me standing here admiring you?”

“That too,” he replied with a smirk, exuding more confidence than he actually felt at the moment.

That made her smile.  A very good sign, he thought with relief.  He knew it was important that this conversation got off on the right foot.  Now was no time for a misstep, he’d already mucked things up enough for one day.  “Willow, I just want to say...”

She shook her head and cut him off, “No.  Me first.”  Motioning him toward the sofa, she went to sit in a chair across from it.

He compliantly sat where she’d indicated, impressed with her air of authority.  She’d bounced back quickly from her earlier ordeal, and though he felt a bit of trepidation about what she’d have to say, he also felt pride.  This woman was nobody’s victim anymore.  Not even his.

Willow settled in and looked at him enigmatically for what felt like a long time.  Finally, she sighed and spoke, “Angelus, it’s hard to even know where to start.”  She gazed around the room, as if it would give her direction and inspiration.  When her eyes reached him again, she smiled softly, “I’ve been thinking a lot since you left.  There’s so much to say.  I’ll just start at the beginning so maybe I’ll sound less scattered.”  She snorted and rolled her eyes, “Okay, so that’s unlikely.”

Angelus smiled at that and looked at her encouragingly.  The levity had relaxed her somewhat, now maybe she could speak her mind more easily.  He wanted her comfortable.  After her accusation earlier that he’d treated her as if she didn’t deserve respect, he wanted to make certain that he conveyed that she did.  Absolutely did.

Willow nodded, more to herself, than to him, and began, “Okay.  The beginning.  Right.”  Unconsciously, she squared her shoulders, then continued, “When you said I could leave, it scared me.  Suddenly things seemed so much more complicated.  Life was simpler when I didn’t have to make choices.  Living the life you dictated took away any responsibility I had in my own destiny.  When you put it back in my lap…I had to start thinking about how *I* felt and what *I* wanted.”

She took a deep breath before continuing.  “I realized that since I’ve been here…somewhere along the line, I stopped being the girl I was…and, and started becoming the woman I’m going to be.  I’ve changed.  A lot.  Because of you.  I realized I’m now someone I like and respect, and I owe it to you.  I was right, earlier today, when I said that you had treated me like a possession that didn’t have feelings or deserve respect.  But, I also realized afterward, that, way more importantly, you’d taught me to respect my feelings *myself*.  And that that’s what really counts.  Yes, you were a big jerk today.”  She gave him a harsh glare.  “Really.  Big.  Jerk.  But…but, also, because of you, I’ve learned that I have a right to decide who treats me how…and, and, what I do about it is up to me.”  Willow stopped short and looked at him inquiringly, “Am I making sense?”

Angelus nodded slowly.  He did understand, and to a certain degree, liked what he’d heard.  But…he wasn’t sure if this thought process of hers was in his favor or not.  With patience and understanding he didn’t completely feel, he said quietly, “I do understand, sweetheart.  Please, go on.”

Willow was visibly relieved that she had made herself clear.  Smoothing her robe over her lap, she chose her next words carefully.  “So, here I was, all of a sudden realizing I was a grown-up and had to make up my own mind.  First off, I knew I didn’t want to go.  The thought of leaving you and going back to my old life, living without you, made me want to…to throw up.”

Angelus hadn’t realized how tense he’d become until she’d said that.  For the first time since he’d sat down, he relaxed.

“I can’t explain it, Angelus, to myself, much less to you, but you’re a part of me now.  I can’t leave.  It would be like…like amputating a part of myself.”  She flopped back in her chair.  “I also can’t let you treat me like crap.  Up until today, we lived in a happy little bubble, pretty much.  Now that harsh reality has come into play, we have to start dealing with what ‘real life’ means for us as a couple.”  She paused and looked at him.  Her expression pleaded for understanding and a sign that he was *really* hearing her.

He was so pleased that she intended to stay, he’d say or do just about anything right now to give her peace of mind.

Evidently, what she saw on his face told her what she wanted to hear, because she continued before he could reply.  “I’m not looking for hearts and flowers every minute of every day.  But trust and respect aren’t too much to ask for.  I’ve earned them.”

“You have, Willow.  Absolutely.  Today went terribly wrong and if I could take back my actions, I would.”  He looked at her earnestly, “Believe me.  Given another go, I’d handle things very differently.”

“I know,” she said quietly and smiled.

Those words were music to his ears.  He was surprised at how much it meant to him that she knew and believed he was being sincere.  Leaning towards her, he said, “Instead of more apologies, I’ll show you that I trust and respect you.  Ways are hard to change, but you are different from anyone…that I’ve been involved with, and my behavior in the future will reflect that.”

Willow looked confused and he sighed.  He tried to clarify, “What I’m trying to say is, you’re a whole new ballgame for me.  I have zero experience with a respectable woman.  My conduct has been colored by past experience and some…unfortunate character traits.”  He smiled self-deprecatingly.  “*You* are the woman in my life.  I promise to try my damnedest to…judge situations by the woman I know you to be…” he paused, searching for the right words…“and not by what unjustified suspicions tell me.”  He let out a frustrated sigh.

Willow put her hand up to stop him and grinned, “I get it Angelus.  It’s kind of fun not being the one having a hard time articulating their thoughts for once.”

Willow surprised him by getting up and settling herself on his lap.  With her hands on his shoulders, she kissed his nose.  “I promise something, too.  I’ll remember that you have a suspicious mind and try to avoid situations that you might misread.  Okay?”

He couldn’t believe it: Willow was staying; fences were mended.  It had been so easy.  “Okay.”  Hugging her to his chest, he said, “I’ve gotta say, I thought I was in deep shit.”

Willow giggled.  “Don’t for a second think I wasn’t onto you, though.”

He was busy with self-congratulation and the idea that sex was forthcoming, and had no idea what she was talking about.  “Huh?”

She leaned back so she could see his face and rolled her eyes.  “You came in here in just your pants on purpose.  To manipulate my hormones.”

He looked indignant, “I most certainly did not.”

She snickered.  “You’re totally ‘Mr. Premeditation’, and don’t think I don’t have your number.”

Reluctantly, he gave in and smirked in acknowledgement.  “Did it work?”

She waggled her eyebrows, “It didn’t hurt.”

He threw his head back and laughed.  She was such a piece of work.  He was getting used to expecting the unexpected with her.

Willow slid off of his lap and dropped her bombshell.  “There was one other thing I wanted to tell you; I’m going to Sunnydale for a visit.”

Angelus’ laughter stopped abruptly.

~Part: 24~

Willow had completely taken the wind out of his sails.  After assuring him she wasn’t going to leave, she blithely announced, pretty as you please, that she was going to visit Sunnydale.  First, she had lulled him into a false sense of security…then, boom.  Vexing woman!  One minute he was happy and laughing, certain that pussy was next on the agenda—the next minute he was sitting here with his mouth hanging open in shock.

She had a lot of nerve calling *him* manipulative!  That was just…just, the pot calling the kettle black, was what it was.  Luckily, he’d had the presence of mind not to snap, “Absolutely not!  I forbid it!” and piss her off.  A small miracle, really, since she’d completely blindsided him.

Now, she was looking all pleased with herself and like he should be too.  As if she’d said, “Angelus, I’m going to suck your cock hard and deep for hours and you don’t have to do a thing.”  But no.  Instead, that ‘happy as a lark’ expression she wore was because she’d announced that she was going to Sunnydale.  How exactly to respond without causing mutiny continued to elude him, so he found himself sputtering, “But…but…but, you said…”

Willow looked at him curiously for a second, waiting for him to finish his sentence before she realized what he meant.  “Oh!  No.  I don’t mean *now* silly,” she said with a playful smack to his arm.

Oh.  Of course not, he thought with exasperation.  Why on earth would he think she meant *now*?  For someone with such a brilliant mind, Willow sure could use improvement on her communication skills, he thought grumpily.  Her present ones were only cute when they didn’t presage disaster.  Trying for an unruffled demeanor, he said, “So, sweetheart, when…that is, what kind of visit and when were you thinking?  And, and for how long?”  Willow’s difficulty expressing herself had transferred itself to him at some point, and he wondered when the hell that unfortunate event had transpired--some things just didn’t need to be shared.

“Oh, lighten up!” she said with a smirk.  “You look like I just told you that the world’s blood supply has dried up or something.”  Fluffing a pillow and reclining on the sofa they were sitting on, she rested her feet on his lap.

The amused look she gave him made him want to slap her and he gazed at her incredulously.  It felt like she was playing with him and he didn’t like it one bit.  “Are you trying to torture me as revenge?  Is that what’s going on here?”  Maybe, he thought, that’s all it was and she had no intention of going away.  Maybe his earlier behavior had made her want to be the one with the power.  He could understand that, if it were the case.  In a less confrontational and more conciliatory tone, he said, “You’re not really going, right?”

Willow tugged her foot loose from the death grip he had on it, “Ouch!  Human here, play nice with the feet.  Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Angelus.  No, I’m not trying to torture you, and yes, I’m really going.”  She must’ve taken pity on his bleak facial expression.  “You can relax, I’m not going anywhere for awhile; at least until you feel more secure about us.”

He frowned, but felt like he’d been granted a reprieve and relaxed somewhat.  He didn’t like her implying that he was insecure, but since it worked for him for now, he’d let it slide.

“I would like to go see my friends, and if they’re around, my parents.  I wouldn’t tell them about us, obviously.  That’s all.  No diabolical plan here.”  She slid back over to where he was and kissed his mouth, “But I won’t even think about it until we’ve reached an understanding.  I couldn’t enjoy a visit home if I was worried that you’d appear every time I talked to a male and go all…postal-vamp again.  You need more time to see that I’m yours and that you can trust me, and I can live with that.  Besides,” she said with a broad smile, “you’d have prior notice—I’d have to plan in advance to make sure I didn’t have any, you know, suspicious bite marks visible.”

Since, for the time being, Willow was staying put, he wasn’t going to argue with her reasoning.  He certainly didn’t want to upset the applecart.  He tried, unsuccessfully, not to smile smugly—and decided he’d see to it that she had fresh evidence of his bites prominently displayed on her neck at all times.  He was now regretting having improved her healing ability with his blood.

She rolled her eyes and straddled his lap, placing her hands on his shoulders.  “You know, you’re pretty insufferable when you get your way.”

“Hey, I didn’t say a thing!” he said, putting his arms around her and squeezing her ass.

Willow snorted, “Yes, you did.  Just not with words,” and wiggled her bottom more firmly into his grasp.

Angelus raised an eyebrow, “If I agree with you, will you drag me to your bed and do nasty, improper things to me?”

She buried her face in his neck and bit down hard.  His hips jerked in reaction and he moaned.  In an innocent voice she said, “I don’t know what kinds of things you’re talking about, but…”

Before she was done speaking, he’d flipped her onto her back on the sofa and insinuated himself between her legs.  “That’s all right, I’ll show you.”  He kissed her deeply; it had been a lousy day and he was glad to finally be moving into more pleasant territory.  Willow must be too, he thought, because she was holding him tight and returning his kiss with a vengeance.

Making out on the sofa when a perfectly good bed was nearby seemed silly, but he wanted her to take the lead.  The empowerment would help her put the day’s events behind them, he thought.  Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t ‘fan the flames’ and hurry things along a bit.

Willow moaned into his mouth and pulled his erection snug against her heat with her legs.  Her robe had fallen open and her breasts pressed against his chest.  They both vibrated with his purring as he thrust against her rhythmically.  She was generating heat like a furnace and it suffused his entire body.  He slid his hands beneath her ass to increase the pressure and thought he’d burst if she didn’t fuck him soon.

Dry humping on the sofa was fine for inexperienced teenagers, but he wanted more.  Willow was moaning and aroused, but he needed to increase her sense of urgency if he wanted to get laid.  He slid down her body so she could no longer thrust against his erection and she whimpered in protest.

Taking a nipple between his teeth, he ran his tongue lightly back and forth until she pushed his head firmly against her, demanding more.  He obligingly sucked the hardened tip with enough pressure to leave a mark.  Squeezing her other breast and pinching its nipple, he elicited the response he was looking for: begging.

“Oh!  Ohhhh, please, Angelus!”  She tried to pull him higher onto her body without success.  “Pleeeease!”

“Please what, Willow?” he asked in a guttural tone.

She was panting now, “Please take your pants off and make love to me.  Now.”

Without another word, he climbed off of her, picked her up, and carried her to the bed.

She wriggled out of her robe while he shed his pants.  He’d barely finished before she was pulling him onto the bed.  Before he knew it, she was straddling his hips and lowering herself onto his erection.  God, he loved it when she took the initiative.

“Willoooow…oooomph.”  She rode him fast and it felt so good that he just lie there and let her do all the work.  Up and down, up and down she pumped, working her thighs, grinding her clitoris against his pubic bone on her down strokes.  He was about to come, but she beat him to it and came to a screeching halt.  She was mewling and reveling in her orgasm, completely forgetting about him.

With a grunt, he flipped her onto her back, grabbed her shoulders, and pistoned into her furiously until he found his own release.  As he came, he sank his fangs into her neck, taking a generous dose of her passion laced blood, then lapped at the bite tenderly, making sure that no residual bleeding went to waste.  When he recovered enough to look at her, she was smiling at him drunkenly, pupils dilated.

He smiled back; being in bed with a woman looking that satisfied felt pretty good.  Never mind, he thought, that they’d both just pretty much used each other as animated sex toys.

Rolling off of her, he dropped to the bed face first, his whole body limp.  Willow dragged herself over to him, moaning from the effort, and snuggled against him contentedly.  Neither of them spoke for quite awhile.

The silence they shared was nice, but her warm, naked body pressed to his was too tempting for him to resist for long since he was still feeling horny.  “You know what turns my stomach, darlin’?”

Her voice was languid, “Hmmm.  No.  In fact, I didn’t even know that that happened to vampires.”

“Well, it does to me,” he said lasciviously, “and what turns my stomach is warm tits pressed against my back.”  Rolling onto his back, he pulled her high onto his chest, so that they were nose to nose, and leered at her.

“Ha!  Very funny,” she said in a not very convincing tone.  “How about now that they’re on your chest?  Any better?”

He scrutinized her suggestively, “Now I just feel greedy for more.  What have you got?”

She feigned deep thought.  “Well, let’s see.  I’m sure I’ve got something up my sleeve.  Lie still and I’ll show you.”

Softly, she kissed his lips, lingering as if she was savoring the taste of him.  She pressed her palms against his shoulders for leverage and raised herself enough to move her head as she increased the intensity of the kiss, and in the process her nipples lightly caressed his chest.  The gentle assault felt so good that he started purring.

Willow burrowed her face into his neck, and in a throaty voice said, “I love it when you purr.”

He tried to stay still, but when she started sucking and nipping at his neck, he began to stroke her back with both hands.  “Baby, that feels so good.  *You* feel so good.”

She bit down in response, and he was astonished that she did it hard enough to draw blood.  Instead of being surprised at his blood in her mouth, she licked the few drops that she’d drawn.

He pressed her head more firmly against his neck and groaned, “Ohhhhhhhhhh, god, that’s so good...mmmm, *so* good.  Willooooow.”

“Mmm,” she said thoughtfully, her voice muffled against his skin, “kind of nice, not what I expected blood to taste like at all,” as she licked and sucked a path to the other side of his neck.

He was purring like mad and moaning helplessly, still trying valiantly to stay still as much as possible.  Her breasts were pressed against him, he could feel her wetness on his leg, and she was driving him fucking crazy with her attentions to his neck.  Running his fingers through her hair and down her back, he muttered nonsense that let her know how wonderful all the things she was doing to him felt.

When she ran her tongue along the outside of his ear, then plunged it in, he had to intervene; pulling her face to his, he kissed her hungrily.  She kissed him back briefly, then pulled away, “Angelus, I’m running things here; you can touch me, but let me do my thing.”  The look she gave him was wickedly carnal and promised so much that it made his cock jump.  “Unless you want to take over?”

He let go of her face and placed his hands on her ass.  “No way,” he responded in a strained voice, “you made me feel so good, I got carried away.  Sorry.”  He tried hard to look repentant.

She gave him a sultry smile and reached down to fondle his aching cock.  When he sucked in an unneeded breath and thrust into her hand, she raised an eyebrow teasingly and moved on.

His muscles were tense and he was anxious to see what she would do next.  The exquisite torment was unexpected and he loved every agonizing minute of it.  He didn’t know what had gotten into her, but was sure glad it had.

She moved so that she was completely lying on top of him and he was thrilled, certain that she was going to fuck him now.  Instead she placed light, feathery kisses on his forehead, cheeks, nose, lips and chin.  “Mmmmm, Angelus, I love you so much.”  She paused for a moment to give him a bright smile, then continued her kissing blitz.  While she was busily kissing his neck, he was hopeful she’d give him another bite while she was in the area.  But no.  When she’d worked her way down to his collarbone, she nibbled a path to his shoulder and sucked the skin into her mouth, scraping with her teeth, but not biting.  He just moaned and kneaded her ass, glad for the pressure of her on his throbbing dick.  Scooting down a bit, she flicked one of his nipples with her tongue, blew on it until it was stiff, then sucked on it hard enough to leave a bruise.  He couldn’t even think, just feel…and keen, and press his hard-on into her stomach.  When she was satisfied with the job she’d done on that nipple, she moved to the other, and without preliminaries, sucked it hard into her mouth and bit down on the surrounding skin.

“Arrrrrrgh!  Willow!  Oh fuck yeah, baby, don’t stop.”  He had no idea what he was saying, he was so wrapped up in lust, he just babbled and begged mindlessly.

She licked at the angry looking welts she’d left, soothing them with her tongue, then moved back to the other nipple and did the same thing to it.  Without warning, she bit down again, this time breaking the skin, the blissful pain and smell of his own blood caused him to buck and scream her name.  She hadn’t drawn much blood with her blunt teeth, but when she sucked what had come to the surface into her mouth, Angelus thought for sure he’d come, but didn’t.  “God, Willow, fuck me soon.  Please.  If you don’t, I’m going to come all over both of us.  Baby, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

Willow ignored him, running her tongue around the injured nipple.  When she was done, she looked over her handiwork with satisfaction.  Finally, she looked up at him and smiled primly.  He thought wryly that no one would know by looking at that sweet, innocent face what a hedonistic little thing she could be.

Maintaining eye contact, she braced her hands on the bed and slid down his body, holding herself just high enough for the tips of her breasts to trail along him teasingly.  She came to rest between his legs and licked his cock from base to tip, cleaning off the pre-cum.

He gritted his teeth and grabbed the comforter, wanting to hold himself together and not come.  After all this, he didn’t want to spoil it and miss the main event.

Her face disappeared between his legs, and his back arched off the bed, when she took one of his balls into her hot mouth, rolling her tongue around it.  He was growling ferociously, fighting for self-control.  She released it and did the same thing with the other one, but this time scraped it with her teeth, causing the most intoxicatingly delicious pain.

He wanted to tell her to get on with it, but was only capable of making guttural, primal sounds of ecstasy.

Nestling her face against his thigh, she bit him hard enough to draw blood again.  He writhed as she delicately sucked on the wound.  He vaguely wondered, in his lust hazed state, if he’d inadvertently given her a taste for his blood when he’d laced her wine with it earlier.  He was just thankful for whatever it was that had caused her to keep sinking her teeth into his flesh.  He was tingling from head to toe with desire and was so desperate to come that he was whimpering.

Finally, she took the tip of his cock into her mouth, laving it with her tongue.  She fondled his balls as she sucked in as much as she could, making slurping noises and grasping the base with her free hand.  He buried his hands in her hair, shoving her head down and she responded by giving his cock and balls painful squeezes.

The pain pushed him over the edge and he thrust into her mouth until she gagged, then came with a roar that shook the windows.

For quite awhile he wasn’t aware of anything beyond his quivering muscles and a feeling of complete and utter euphoria.

~Part: 25~

Today had gone so well it made yesterday’s unpleasantness seem like a dim memory, Angelus thought with satisfaction as he sat at his desk.

After Willow had thoroughly blown his mind yesterday evening by ravaging him, they’d moved to the bedroom they shared and continued the theme.  They’d fucked like sex-crazed bunnies, made slow passionate love, and given their mattress a thorough thrashing.  Make-up sex was a fine thing, he thought with a smirk.  His cock stirred and he growled in satisfaction at the memory of the bites he’d received from Willow.  God, he hoped that was a new fetish and not just a passing fancy on her part.

Finally, just before sun-up, they fell into a deep sleep in a tangle of exhausted limbs.  Either Willow had been hopped up on adrenaline, or his blood had substantially increased her stamina.  He suspected the latter.  When he rose at noon she was still fast asleep and he had thoroughly inspected her body for evidence of yesterday’s abuse or bites inflicted by him during the course of the night; he found none.  Very interesting, he thought, since she’d actually imbibed just a tiny amount.  Maybe Genevieve could shed some light on that phenomenon when she arrived.

At last, the elusive Genevieve had been located and contacted.  His man at Service, Inc. said that her response to his summons had been positive and that she’d said she would come straightaway.  He was relieved that she had agreed to drop everything and come at once without explanation as to why her presence was requested.  He didn’t want her to have preconceived notions before her arrival here, unless it became necessary in order to convince her.  Evidently their long-standing friendship was reason enough for her.

Fortunately, she was on the other side of the world and wouldn’t arrive for a couple of days.  While he was anxious for her input and any light she could shed on his relationship with Willow, he did have some prep-work to attend to first.

He sighed and drummed his fingers on his desk.  Willow needed to be apprised of his suspicions regarding the special connection they shared.  He would have to come clean and hope that she wouldn’t be pissed off at him for holding out on her up until now.  He shook his head in wonder: a world where *he*, a fearsome master vampire, notorious for his love of—and gift for—creative, sadistic torture and extreme malevolence, considered the feelings of a lowly human was a strange place indeed.  Of course, Willow wasn’t lowly.  In fact, he wasn’t entirely certain that she was even completely human anymore.  Whatever she was, she was his, and quite significant.

They had shared another dream this morning.  His intention was to use that as his reason for telling her now.  He didn’t have a firm plan, but his tentative idea was to use the most recent dream and her body’s reaction to a small amount of his blood as catalysts for confirming for him things that had just been conjecture previously.  Willow couldn’t be too irritated with him because while he strongly suspected that they shared whatever link Nicholai and Genevieve had, he didn’t know anything for certain.  His darling’s reactions were more unpredictable than ever, so he wasn’t going to let himself fret over them further.  She might be upset, or she might be too intrigued to be put out—he wasn’t going to speculate.  It would be what it would be and he’d deal with it.  Tonight.  He was going to take her out to a fine restaurant, shower her with attention, and explain, to the best of his ability, what their situation was.

Reclining in his chair, he thought back on this morning’s excellent dream.  It had been strange in that he had thoroughly enjoyed thoughts and feelings that were completely alien to him.  For example, he wouldn’t have thought in a million years that the words ‘mother of my children’ could conceivably be considered sexy—yet they were.  He and Willow—rather, Liam and Willow—had been having a picnic with their four children in a beautiful meadow.  Evidently, they had produced a few more offspring in the time between dreams.  Their adored Siobhan ran and frolicked with her three boisterous brothers and a big, lumbering dog while he and Willow looked on fondly, beaming with love and pride.

He’d loved lounging on a blanket in the warm sunshine with his precious wife in his arms.  They’d kissed and cuddled, reveling in their children’s antics.  It had been a perfect day.  As the afternoon waned, they had gathered up everything from their picnic and walked home, just enjoying being together as a family.  It had seemed so natural and real.

When they’d arrived home, Willow had shepherded the children upstairs and efficiently supervised their bathing and dressing in no time.  His parents arrived shortly thereafter to collect his brood for a weekend with their grandparents, or Seanmhathair and Seanathair, as the children called them.  It was rather shocking to see how doting and affectionate his father had been with the children.  The man had been a total asshole to him his whole life.  From what Angelus saw in the dream, marrying Willow and becoming a father had mended fences between him and his father.

Becoming the parents of four had done nothing to diminish their sex life.  They’d certainly made the most of having the house to themselves.  Their lovemaking had been poignant in its passion and intensity.  His cock grew stiff just recalling the pure eroticism of those hours.  If anything, their love and desire for one another had grown exponentially through the years.

Angelus sighed, pulling himself away from memories of a life that had never existed.  It wasn’t like he wasn’t more than satisfied with the state of things in the here and now.

Another positive aspect to today was the visit John Barrett had paid him, updating him on the Slayer and her little band of do-gooders.  There had been nothing of interest to him in the report, but it was good to know that there was no threat to concern him on that front.  Buffy pined for Angel, but he was already aware of that from monitoring Willow’s e-mail—and couldn’t care less anyway.  They did wonder, Barrett had said, what had become of Angelus, but had nothing but speculation—which was laughably, and predictably, off the mark.  Evidently his forays into other towns to wreak havoc hadn’t registered on their radar.  They had enough to keep them busy in Sunnydale, apparently, and didn’t look for trouble beyond the confines of their own little burg.

Angelus felt Willow’s…rather charged presence in the doorway and looked up with a pleased smile.  “Dearest!  You’re up!  And I see that you’re riding a caffeine high.  Should I be concerned enough to stage an intervention?”

Willow giggled and bounced into the room, despite trying to downplay her excess energy.  “Blame the Turkish coffee.  I couldn’t stop at one cup…or three,” she said as she practically skipped around the room.

She looked delicious today.  Her hair was wild and free and she was dressed in a short, pleated navy skirt paired with a magenta spagetti strapped top made of silk.  It completely suited the buoyancy she was exhibiting.  “You’re a vision, Willow.  You look good enough to eat.”

She paused in her hyper tour of the room to waggle her eyebrows at him flirtatiously.  “Thank you.”

It was hard for him to believe that such a short time ago she would’ve reacted self-consciously to that remark.  She’d come a long way.

“You have a dirty mind, little girl.  It was just a figure of speech.”  He motioned to one of the chairs in front of the desk, “Shut the door and lock it, then sit, I want to talk to you for a moment.”

She did as he asked regarding the door, but ignoring the chair, she came around the desk and sat in his lap.  Looking at him solemnly, she said, “You shush.  I do not have a dirty mind,” and primly smoothed her skirt.

Angelus chuckled, “You’re right.  Pardon me,” he said in a dry, mocking tone, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She smiled her forgiveness, choosing to ignore any sarcasm in his response, and he kissed her.  What he’d intended as an affectionate peck turned into a long, lingering convergence of lips.

Sighing, Willow looked unfocused and dreamy, “Nice.”  She snuggled against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder.  “What did you want to talk about?”

“Huh?” he said, still a bit dazed from the kiss.

“Um, you said you wanted to talk to me…”

“Oh, right.  I did.  I mean, I do.  But first I want to give you something.”  He put an arm around her and took a black velvet jeweler’s box from his top drawer, handing it to her.  “I saw this and it reminded me of you.”

With surprise and curiosity, Willow caressed the box and eased it open.  “Oh!”  She ran a finger over the object reverently.  Looking up at him with tears in her eyes, she said, “Oh, Angelus, it’s so beautiful!  I love it.  Thank you.”

It was an ornately engraved gold heart-shaped locket on a chain with rubies embedded in it at intervals.  It was so suited to her that he’d bought it the moment he’d seen it.  “You’re very welcome.”

She continued to stare at it in awe.

“Take it out of the box and look at it, sweetheart.”

Willow leaned in to kiss him softly, then did as he asked.  Dangling it from her fingers, she continued to admire it.

“Look inside.”

Very carefully, she popped it open.  He’d placed a photo of her on one side and one of him on the other.  Crystalline tears ran slowly down her flushed cheeks.  Looking up at him, she said in a choked whisper, “This is…I love it so much.  I can’t even tell you.”

Angelus was moved by her reaction to his gift.  Taking her face in his hands, he smoothed away her tears with his thumbs and smiled softly into her eyes.  “I’m glad you like it.”  His voice was unaccountably hoarse, so he cleared his throat and moved his hands to her hips.  “Look at the back.”

Willow turned the locket over and her breath caught on a sob.

He’d had it engraved:

Forever

&

Always,

A.

She sniffled and put her arms around his neck, kissing his lips repeatedly, then covered his face with feather-light pecks.  Pulling back, she held the locket to her chest and said, “I will treasure this, Angelus.  I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

He stroked her hair and brushed a stray lock from her cheek, memorizing her expression and savoring the moment.

She took his hand and placed the locket in his palm, “Please, put it on me.”  She held her hair up and turned her head to accommodate him.  “I’m going to wear it every day and only take it off to shower.”

As he carefully worked the clasp he said, “Better not wear it to bed either, your lover is pretty enthusiastic in his attentions.”

Willow giggled, “You’re right.”

Reaching around her, he removed a hand-mirror from his desk and handed it to her.  “Here, take a look.”

She stared at it and petted it for so long that he thought she’d forgotten he was there.  Finally, she put the mirror down and looked at him earnestly, “It’s perfect.”

He squeezed her waist and said softly, “So are you, my darling.”

They got lost in a kiss as potent as the last one.  When it ended, he held her and stroked her back; both lost in their own thoughts.

Angelus enjoyed the feeling running through him, it was…pure and simple.  The absolute contentedness was out of character and more suited to his alter-ego from the dreams.  Nevertheless, there it was.  It should have felt at odds with his nature, but it didn’t.  It just insinuated itself into his psyche right along with his more familiar characteristics: bloodlust, violence, and various and sundry evil traits.  With a mental headshake, he thought, once again, that he never could’ve anticipated the turn his life had taken—or welcomed it if he had.

Willow’s ass began wiggling provocatively and brought him out of his reverie.  He groaned and shifted his hips, grinding his cock into her.  The scent of her arousal filled the air and he grabbed her waist to push her against his crotch more firmly.

Before he could land a passionate kiss on her mouth, she burrowed her face into his neck and began to suck and nibble, not even trying to be gentle.

Growling fiercely, he slid a hand under her skirt and ripped the crotch of her flimsy panties.  Automatically, she spread her legs a bit to accommodate him, crying out when he thrust two fingers into her.  “Baby, you’re so wet.  God, I love your hot, wet, cunt.”

He worked his fingers skillfully, eliciting pants and keens from Willow.  She spread her legs further and thrust into his hand.  “Angelus!  Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t, Nnnnnnnnnnnmmm!”

Her orgasm was so close; he could feel her tightening around his fingers.  “Bite me, sweetheart.  Now.”  Her blunt teeth sank into the flesh beneath his ear and his cock strained against her in response.  He gritted his teeth and remained focused on her pleasure.  He palpitated her g-spot hard and fast and pressed his thumb on her clitoris, manipulating it back and forth.

She squealed and whimpered, throwing her head back, and came hard.  His engorged cock was taking a beating from her bouncing ass and the pain felt so good.

Barely in control enough to be gentle, he flipped her off of his lap and onto the desktop facedown.  She was still in the throes of her orgasm and very pliable.  God, she looked so fucking sexy bent over the desk in front of him, her naked ass in his face, and the remnants of her panties dangling.  He kneaded her ass roughly and pushed her knees farther apart with his own.

Her pussy looked ripe and swollen with desire, shiny with juices inviting him in.  Grabbing her thighs, he lifted her slightly and buried his tongue in her, lapping at the wonderfully unique flavor.  God, he loved the taste of her.  After briefly laving her clitoris, he let go of her.

She leaned up on her elbows and peeked around at him, “Please, Angelus,” she whimpered.

He grinned wolfishly and stood, unfastening his pants quickly.  “Brace yourself, sugar.”

His cock was throbbing, but he slid it into her painfully slowly and gripped her hips, groaning at the feel of her wet heat surrounding him tightly.

Once he was buried to the hilt, he stopped.  He was too close to coming and needed a moment to collect himself.  She felt so good and he was too worked up to last beyond a couple of thrusts.

Willow mewled and pushed her ass into him, urging him to get on with it.

He chuckled and slapped a pristine white cheek hard enough to sting and leave a red handprint.  “Stay still, greedy girl.”

She stilled, and the room was quiet except for her heavy breathing and the ticking of the clock.

When his balls relaxed a bit, he began pumping with long, hard strokes, but not fast.  This angle felt so good and he was mesmerized watching himself disappear beneath her lovely ass.

Willow was moaning and muttering nonsense, still following his order to stay still.  She’d grunt when he was all the way in, but not in pain—or if it did hurt, she didn’t complain.

Gradually, he began to drive into her faster.  Reaching beneath her, he circled his cock with his fingers to get his index finger wet.  Willow jumped when he carefully penetrated the tight, puckered bud that had been looking at him so invitingly.  “Shhh, shhhh,” he cooed soothingly, placing his other hand on the small of her back.  “It’s all good, baby.  I’m gonna fuck you so good.”

When her body relaxed around his finger, he gently thrust it in and out, but pounded into her pussy.

She screamed his name as she orgasmed violently and he delighted in the muscle contractions around his cock and finger.  Finally, he let himself come.  Waiting was hard, but good, it felt SO FUCKING GOOD, he thought as his head swam in sensations that hummed through his whole body.  His hips shook as he emptied himself into her and slowly removed his finger.

Willow sighed loudly and said something unintelligible.  He thought maybe it was, “Wow.”

Pulling out of her, he tucked himself into his pants and refastened them.  Fucking Willow on the desk was fun.  He definitely planned to do it again sometime.

He carefully lifted her and turned her around, smoothing her skirt.  She was sweaty and her hair was a mess, but she smiled contentedly and leaned on the desk.  He sat back down and reached under her skirt to remove her tattered panties.  She cooperated by lifting each foot in turn to accommodate him.  She was so relaxed; he thought she might doze off standing up.

He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her leisurely.  Her lips were always so supple after she’d been thoroughly fucked; it made it hard to end the kiss.  He sighed internally, no more time for monkey business.  They had things to do, places to go, people to see.  “Willow love?” he murmured against her lips.

“Hmm?”

“Adelaide from Service, Inc. will be here in half an hour to do your hair…and whatever stuff she does to make you especially gorgeous.”

Willow abruptly pulled her lips away and looked at him in surprise.  “Addie’s coming today?  Why?”

He gave her his most charming smile, “Because you and I are going out tonight, so I called her to come and…do her thing.”

She grinned and bounced, giving him a loud smack on his lips.  “Oh!  Fun.  Where are we going?  What should I wear?  Would it have killed you to give me more notice?”

He laughed at her excitement, stroking her knee.  “We’re going to a very nice restaurant and it’s a long drive, so we need to leave at dusk.  I don’t want to risk running into anyone you know, so distance is necessary.  You should wear the aqua gown.  And, as you’re so fond of reminding me, I’m a dead guy, so whether telling you sooner would’ve killed me is moot.”  He brushed her mussed hair off of her cheek.  “I couldn’t tell you sooner because I didn’t think of it until I got up.  But I’m determined that we go tonight, so get your glorious ass off of my lap and hop in the shower so that you’re ready for Adelaide.  If you linger near my cock for much longer I’ll be fucking you again and you’ll run out of time to get ready.”

She rolled her eyes, which were shining with excitement, and stood up, “Oh, this is exciting.”  As she dashed toward the door she paused, turning to face him with a serious expression.  “It’s funny; the idea of leaving the grounds doesn’t bother me anymore.”

He smiled indulgently, “Good.”  She smiled back and nodded, then quietly left the room.

She might be surprised that she was ready to venture into the outside world, he thought, but he wasn’t.  Hopefully the news he planned to deliver tonight at dinner wouldn’t douse her enthusiasm…or anything else, for that matter.

~Part: 26~

Willow looked sensational. The formfitting gown she wore suited her. It was aqua satin with narrow shoulder straps, the neckline vee’d, falling into soft folds, showing off just a hint of cleavage. The top part had tiny rhinestones sewn here and there, and just below the bust, small leaves were embroidered all the way around, like a ribbon. From bust to floor, delicate silk chiffon covered the satin. A row of small, matching buttons went from the hip to below Willow’s left arm. Angelus thought it flattered her lithe form beautifully and showed off her elegant neck, arms, and alabaster skin to perfection. There was just one thing missing. Jewelry.

Angelus had been lounging in the doorway silently watching Willow admire herself in the mirror. She studied her lovely upswept hairstyle, all the way down to her high-heeled pumps, which were dyed to match the dress. He imagined, with an amused smile, that Cinderella had probably had a similar reaction to herself when her fairy godmother had outfitted her for the ball. Of course, Willow wasn’t a fairytale figure…she just looked like one.

“My darling, you look stunning,” he said, startling her.

She put her hand to her chest to calm her pounding heart and glared at him. “Thank you. You know, one of these days you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“Hmm, that would be bad,” he said as he sauntered toward her, his tone completely unapologetic.

Willow took a closer look at him and raised her eyebrows. “Angelus, you look amazing.”

He preened and let her admire him. He had dressed in a tux: black tie, jacket and slacks, with a plain white starched shirt. Less was more when it came to male formalwear in his opinion. “I know. Thank you.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “You’re the most egotistical person I’ve ever known.”

He grinned roguishly and tugged his sleeves. “As well I should be.”

She laughed. “Honestly, though, it would be pretty great to have your confidence. Self-doubt is a nuisance.”

He nodded sagely, “This is why I try to lead by example.”

“Okay, Mr. Self-Assurance, enough about you.” She twirled in front of the mirror, forgetting for a second that she wouldn’t see him in the reflection. That always seemed to disorient her. “I love this dress. I feel like a fairy princess.”

Angelus turned her from the mirror and placed his hands on her shoulders, stroking them with his thumbs. Looking deeply into her eyes, he said, “You look like one.”

She smiled and blushed and fidgeted all at once.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he rebuked, turning her again to face the mirror. “Look at yourself.”

She complied.

“Should *that* girl fidget? I think not. Now, chin up, shoulders back, and stand up straight. That’s you in the mirror looking so fabulous. Own it.”

Willow studied herself for a moment, and then followed his instructions.

Angelus watched her reflection and waited. He smirked when the expression in her eyes caught up with the rest of her. He began to stroke her arms, admiring the softness of her delicate skin. “Sweetheart, you’re used to being different. That part is good—and true. Your perception of ‘different’ is the problem. Your self-confidence has improved a lot, and that pleases me, but there’s a ways to go yet. Celebrate the things that comprise your unique beauty. Other women would kill to have your sleek, sexy figure, or stunning red hair, or flawless skin. Not to mention lustrous eyes the color of the verdant hills of Ireland.”

Willow was silent as he spoke, but her eyes showed that she was taking it all in.

While she assimilated the information, he removed a necklace from his jacket pocket and fastened it around the slender column of her neck.

She gasped and her eyes grew round, “Oh! It’s…it’s gorgeous…I…”

She tried to turn to face him and he stopped her with hands on her shoulders. “Not so fast, darlin’.” He pulled matching earrings from his other pocket and handed them to her.

Willow put the earrings on and turned her head from side to side in awe. The necklace was a chain of diamonds with a pendant of diamond clusters dangling and a solitary pearl set just beneath where the chain and pendant met. The earrings matched the clusters, minus the pearl.

Angelus took a moment to congratulate himself on his taste in women, clothing, and jewelry. The effect exceeded even his high expectations. The jewels enhanced the beauty of both Willow and the gown without overwhelming either.

Willow was speechless and appeared entranced by all the sparkling around her neck and dangling from her earlobes.

He chuckled and kissed her temple. “These are actually what I was shopping for when I came across the locket I gave you earlier.”

She turned around and beamed at him. “Thank you so much.” Her expression faltered as she struggled to express herself.

Angelus waited, he was used to her doing this. It was frustrating, but he forced himself to be patient. Pushing her to get to the point always made her apologize for being ‘flaky’ and he hated that.

Finally, her frown melted away and she continued, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. “I still feel like I did that first morning here. Kind of. Like I’m living in a dream or an alternate universe. But….” She looked into his eyes intently as tears gathered in hers, “I’d never imagined I could feel so good and happy every day. It still feels like a dream, except now it feels like one that I belong in. Maybe I’m selfish and a bad person because I don’t have any illusions about who and what you are and love you anyway. But…it all seems natural and normal within the parameters of this new…reality.” She huffed in frustration. “Did that make sense?”

Angelus nodded and brought their clasped hands to his lips. He kissed her knuckles and smiled down at her. “It did. And I’m glad. Making you happy is important to me.” Of course, she made *him* happy anytime she alluded to the fact that she accepted that he was a demon. That could’ve been a big hurdle in their life together.

Willow’s eyes crinkled in a smile, “My vampire education did nothing to prepare me for you. A fat lot those Watchers know.”

“That’s what my kind has been thinking for hundreds of years, love,” he said in a longsuffering tone as he returned her smile. “Now, grab your evening bag and let’s get out of here. We have reservations.” He punctuated the last remark with a sharp smack to Willow’s ass.

~~~*~~~

The moon was full and the sky was clear; it was a perfect night for a drive along the coast, Angelus thought. Well, the scenic aspects were what Willow was enjoying. His own enjoyment was mostly a result of the meal he’d had a few miles back. Because of all the recent drama in their household, he hadn’t fed in awhile. When he’d spotted a scruffy hitchhiker in close proximity to a gas station, he’d decided to ‘refuel’. While Willow was off using the ladies room, he’d made the most of his time; now he and the car were both full. I love it when everything falls into place, he thought with satisfaction. Lately, it seemed like his usual method of planning and controlling every little detail was a waste of time. So, although it went against the grain, he was trying a new tactic: go with the flow and play it by ear. Fate seemed to have a plan and he’d just try to stay out of its way. That was why, as they drove along, he wasn’t mentally devising the conversation he’d have with Willow at dinner. He’d just wing it.

She looked so lovely and content watching the countryside pass by. He broke the companionable silence they’d been sharing by asking, “What are you thinking about, precious?”

Willow turned to him and smiled, “Nothing really. I’ve been on this road lots, but tonight it looks different. More special.”

“It must be the company,” he quipped cockily.

She rolled her eyes and chuckled. “I hope I’m as arrogant as you are when I grow up. It must be fun…and, you know, liberating.”

“Ha! You jest, but it’s true, darlin’. You’d like it,” he said with an imperious smile.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” she responded, only somewhat sarcastically.

“Ah! Here we are, Anthony’s Fish Grotto,” he said as he pulled into a parking lot prettily decorated with tiny white lights sparkling in the trees.

Willow looked around, “Nice. If it’s this fancy on the outside, the inside must be spectacular.” She glanced at Angelus in surprise, “Hey. You parked the car yourself. I would’ve thought you’d be all over the valet option.”

He winked at her, “Vampire paranoia. I like to know exactly where my car and keys are.” He opened his door, “Stay put.” He went around the car and opened her door, helping her out. When he offered her his arm, she straightened her shoulders and took it.

Angelus kept his smile to himself as Willow did her best to do justice to her new look as they entered the restaurant and were seated. She did great; nobody but him would’ve thought for a moment that she was applying herself to appear comfortable and confident.

The décor was simple and elegant, and their table was very private and had a beautiful view of the beach and ocean. The floor to ceiling window they were seated by, and the dim lighting, made the view the main focus. Angelus watched Willow take it all in. “Like it?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “I love it. It’s…magical.”

“Good. That’s exactly how your first foray into the world with me should be,” he said with a satisfied smile, pleased that she thought he’d chosen well.

She had been completely oblivious to the heads that turned to admire her from the moment they’d stepped through the door. He certainly hadn’t been. He’d felt very proud to be her escort. Mostly. In some cases he’d had to resist the urge to growl possessively in the direction of her admirers.

Willow being Willow, she wasted no time in determining what she wanted to eat. Angelus placed their order when the waiter came by and pretended not to notice the besotted glances the young man kept sneaking in Willow’s direction.

He praised himself for his restraint; he was doing an admirable job of keeping his possessiveness to himself. Of course, she was exquisite; naturally all eyes would be drawn to her. Gazing at her, he was lost in thoughts of how her hair, white skin, and aqua dress were conspiring to give her an otherworldly glow tonight.

Willow cleared her throat, “Angelus?”

She had said something and he’d missed it. “I’m sorry, darling, I missed what you said. It’s your fault actually, you’re dazzling tonight and it’s distracting.”

She flushed and smiled, “Thank you. I hate to say it out loud, but I *do* feel special tonight. I had just asked why you bothered ordering food for yourself; you didn’t miss anything exciting.”

“First of all, everyone else is noticing your exceptional loveliness; it would be a shame for you to be unaware of it.” He reached across the table for her hand and gave it a squeeze, earning him a shy, gracious nod and an adoring look. “Second of all, while it’s not unheard of for just one party to dine, it does draw attention. Mostly, though, it’s habit from the old days. Superstitious inn workers paid close attention to that sort of thing. One had to be especially careful in order to avoid a stake through the heart in one’s bed during the daylight hours.”

Willow nodded thoughtfully, “Makes sense.”

They made polite noises while the wine was being served, and Angelus tried not to smirk when Willow’s sweet smile caused the waiter to grin fatuously at her.

When they were alone again, he raised his glass, signaling for her to do the same. “A toast. To us and our long and happy future together.” Their glasses clinked and they sipped their wine. Angelus frowned; Willow’s expression had become somber. “Sweetheart?” he asked in concern.

Willow shook her head and tried to smile. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

He wasn’t fooled. Her mood had changed and she was avoiding his eyes. Taking her hand again, he said in a low voice, “Did my mention of the future bring this on?” She was staring hard at the table and didn’t respond. “Willow, look at me.”

Her eyes were shining with unshed tears when she looked up at him. He gave her a moment as she blinked and took a deep breath, willing them away. He was relieved when she succeeded. “There you go, sweetheart,” he said soothingly, “now take a sip or two of your wine and tell me what’s on your mind.”

She polished off the glass and he refilled it. After another study of the tabletop, she looked up at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Angelus. I didn’t mean to do that. I’m better now. Forget it happened, I don’t want anything to mar our perfect evening.” She linked her fingers with his. “Really.”

Her smile was so sweet and beseeching that he would’ve ignored the incident if it weren’t so pertinent to what he wanted to discuss with her tonight. Before he could decide how to proceed, their salads arrived.

By the time the waiter left and Willow was eating her salad, he’d decided to just jump in with both feet. Pretty much. He was cursing himself for his desire to squirm in his chair and questioning his intelligence at thinking that having this conversation in public was actually a bright idea. He glared at his salad and moved it around the plate with his fork a bit, gathering his thoughts. Finally, with firm resolve, he looked at Willow, who was contentedly munching away. “Sweetheart, there was something I wanted to talk to you about tonight.” He placed his fork in the center of his plate and pushed it away.

She looked at him curiously and swallowed. “Okay.”

He clasped his hands and leaned forward, “I think you have concerns about the future and…”

Willow interrupted him, “Wait.” She placed her fork on the plate and wiped her mouth delicately with her napkin before she continued in an irritated tone, “I try hard not to think about the future. Every. Single. Day.” She raised her hand to stop him when he tried to speak and looked at him meaningfully. He reluctantly held his tongue. “Angelus, I love you. I’m happy. Let me have my carefully constructed illusions. I won’t become a vampire. I *won’t*,” she said sternly. “I know that means…” she swallowed hard, “if, if you don’t get tired of me first, I’ll age and…” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, once again blinking to control tears that threatened to fall. “There will be no ‘happily ever after’.” She squared her shoulders and her expression hardened. “For now, I’m going to pretend that everything will always be rosy, and you’re going to let me.” Calmly, she picked up her fork and resumed eating her salad.

Angelus was surprised at the ferocity of her words and bemused by how easily Willow appeared to have mentally closed the subject after having had her say. He sipped his wine and thought about what she’d said and her present demeanor. Realization struck: she was relieved to have gotten her fears off of her chest and made it clear that that they weren’t open for discussion. Even though he suspected her fears were unfounded, it was probably good for her to have…unburdened herself. Denial was hard work, and it probably relieved the pressure considerably for her to think he’d do his part in helping her maintain it.

While he was mulling all of this over, the waiter arrived to remove their salad plates. Once he was gone, Angelus decided to try a different tack—since he’d been forbidden to discuss the future.

He smiled heartily at Willow, hoping to convey without words that he wasn’t going to broach an unwelcome subject. “A long time ago, I knew the most fascinating couple. Are you in the mood for a story?”

She nodded and smiled cheerfully, evidently trusting that he was going to behave himself and avoid the taboo topic. “You know I love it when you tell me about the ‘old days’. Um, when you leave out the gory details, that is,” she hastened to add.

“Of course,” he replied indignantly. “I know that.”

Willow snickered. “Yeah, right. You’re like Xander that way; sneaking the gross stuff in every chance you get.” She just rolled her eyes when he glowered at her. “Must be a ‘guy thing’. Oh! And making everything you can sound sexual.” She nodded knowingly, “Yep. Some irresistible ‘male/perv/crass’ tendency. Definitely.”

Angelus raised a brow at her disdainfully. “Are you quite finished disparaging me and my gender?”

She nodded seriously, but couldn’t contain a giggle.

“Comparing me to that buffoon Xander is going to cost you, little girl. Just wait until we get home.”

Willow looked at him mischievously and leaned forward, whispering, “I can’t wait.”

He chuckled huskily; he couldn’t either. “Now who’s the one making innocent remarks into sexual ones?”

“Not me.” She sat up primly, looking as pure as the wind-driven snow. “Now, are you going to tell me about the ‘days of auld’, or what?”

He had to smile. Despite himself, it was hard to resist the levity she brought to life. No matter what, her optimistic nature and sweet smile were never far from the surface. “Yes, but your devoted servant, our waiter, is headed this way with our entrees.” She blushed. Aha, he thought, she wasn’t totally oblivious to her admirers, after all.

Once the meal was served and their wineglasses were refilled, Angelus made sure that she was enjoying her dinner and ready for his tale, and then, finally, he was able to cut to the chase. “I was in Naples. It was a balmy evening and there was some sort of street fair going on. Nothing spectacular; jugglers, vendors selling sweets and trinkets, that sort of thing. It was amusing and I was just wandering. Then I smelled something very compelling. I traced the scent to a lovely young woman. Well…that’s what she *appeared* to be.” He stole a glance at Willow, who was following closely, but not distracted from her meal. Naturally. It took a lot to distract the girl when she was eating.

“Well?” she said, prompting him to go on. “What was she?”

He continued, pleased that she was so interested, “I didn’t know. I was very young and inexperienced—of course, I didn’t see myself that way.”

Willow gave an unladylike snort, “So, you were all conceited even way back then? When was this, anyway?”

He gave her a severe look, “No, my little smartass, but I was never one to doubt my own worth.” He shook his head, “Jesus, darlin’, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear Spike has been giving you lessons in insolence. And believe me, that’s never gone well for him.”

Willow looked completely unrepentant and pleased with herself, but didn’t say anything.

“Where was I? Oh, right. The year was 1761, in answer to your question. People tend to just…smell like people, so this young woman captured my interest and I inconspicuously trailed her. Or so I thought. When she reached a deserted area, she turned on me and hissed, ‘Listen well, Vampire, you are wasting your time. I am not a meal. Hunt elsewhere, or rue the day you crossed my path’.

“Well! As you can imagine, that surprised the hell out of me. She was human, knew what I was, and was certainly not afraid. Furthermore, now that I was in close proximity to her, I discerned that at least part of her scent was that of a master vampire. Well, and I could see that she was marked. Still, there was that elusive other scent. Now she was doubly intriguing. Marked humans were unusual. What had made her special enough to be more than a meal to this mysterious master, I wondered? Quickly, I collected myself and apologized for my impertinence. I was keen to get to the bottom of this. She was obviously a lady, so even by introducing myself I was being improper—but she overlooked that.” He smirked, “She was won over by my Irish charm.”

Willow clucked her tongue with impatience, “Yeah, yeah, you’re a stud-muffin and worked the, the…brogue ju-ju on her. I get it. But, who was she? *What* was she?”

Angelus preened for a moment, relishing Willow’s use of the word ‘stud’ in relation to him. “Her name was Genevieve, and she was French, but spoke perfect English. She wasn’t so competent in Italian, so I think she was glad to meet someone she could easily converse with. She told me she was on her way to meet her lover and invited me to join her.”

Willow was completely involved in the story, “Did you?”

“Of course! Curiosity had me by the short hairs. We proceeded to the town square where she introduced me to Nicholai. As I suspected, he was very powerful…obviously several hundred years old. Fortunately—although I was too foolish and brash to realize it at the time—he didn’t immediately dismember me for having stalked his woman.”

Willow held up her hand to interrupt, “Speaking of which, where was Darla during all of this?”

“Around. I’ll get to that. Domineering bitch could always sniff me out and locate me when I was in the company of a beautiful woman.”

“So, Genevieve was a hottie?”

Angelus nodded, “Yes. They both were. She was tall and shapely with flawless skin that had a slight olive cast to it. Rich brown hair and eyes to rival the greatest beauties. Nicholai was about my size and had blond hair and piercing green eyes. They both had an air about them…it’s difficult to define. Anyway, they certainly captured one’s attention on several levels. But I digress.

“The three of us hit it off and talked for hours. They were very interesting, and had experienced a lot of exciting places and things together. It was intriguing to witness a vampire and a human be so compatible. They clearly enjoyed a happy relationship and…deep, abiding affection for one another. Finally, I discovered what made Genevieve so unique; she was a witch. Magic was the elusive scent. Mostly. Once I’d met Nicholai, I discovered that they shared a, um, essence, I guess I’ll call it. Very distinct and unique.”

Willow’s mouth was slightly open; he was gratified to see that she was completely engrossed in his tale.

“They explained that they were bonded and had been together for over five hundred years.”

“But,” Willow looked perplexed, “Genevieve was human, you said.”

Angelus nodded, watching Willow closely, “Yes. To some degree, at least. Whatever their bond consisted of made her immortal, apparently.”

Willow shook her head. “Huh.”

Angelus chuckled. “That was pretty much my response at the time.”

“So…” Willow was interrupted by the waiter arriving and asking if she wanted dessert. She enthusiastically ordered tiramisu and returned her attention to her question. “What were the details of the bond?”

He shook his head and sighed, “All I know is that they knew when they met that they shared a special connection. At the time, the rest wasn’t relevant; my curiosity was assuaged.”

Willow frowned in disappointment. “Well, that sucks.” She flopped back in her chair. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. I sure wish you’d been a bigger snoop!” She smiled at him, “But still, it’s a cool story.”

Angelus leaned forward and looked into her eyes intently. Reaching for her hand, he said, “Willow, there’s a bigger picture here. I told you about Nicholai and Genevieve for a reason. I believe that you and I share the same connection that they did.”

Willow’s mouth dropped open and she stared at him in astonishment.

~Part: 27~

Willow continued to gape at him for some time. Angelus wasn’t quite sure what to do next. He’d intended to take his cue from her, but she wasn’t giving one.

The waiter brought her dessert and Angelus asked him to put it in a box to go, and gave him his credit card. Once the check was squared away, he’d get Willow to the car.

Angelus drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. He didn’t have any idea what was going through Willow’s mind. He wished he had an inkling as to whether it was positive or negative. Blank stares weren’t very informative. He cleared his throat, “Sweetheart? In a moment I’m going to pay the dinner bill, and then we’ll go. Clearly, you’re shocked by what I said. I’m sure you just need a moment to process it.” No response. Hell. He hadn’t known what to expect, but catatonia certainly wasn’t it. He patted her hand. “Okay, Willow?”

She cocked her head at him and nodded once. “Okay.”

Well, that was something, at least, he thought with cautious optimism. The waiter returned and they concluded their business. Angelus was grateful when the sympathetic young man discreetly indicated an exit door nearby—and was glad that he’d left a generous tip.

When Angelus pulled her chair back, Willow rose like an automaton and picked up her dessert and evening bag. He put his hand on her lower back and guided her outside. They walked to the car in silence.

Willow placed her hand on his arm as he went to turn the key in the ignition, stopping him. “Angelus, what do I smell like?”

What a typically ‘Willow’ way she’d chosen to begin this conversation, he thought. He now understood what had been going on with her. She’d been stunned, sure, but immediately her sharp intellect had gone to work assimilating what he’d told her tonight and she was adding that to what she thought relevant in their relationship. It made sense to him that once she’d sorted through things, she’d want to start their discussion from the beginning: when he’d first encountered this phenomenon and caught Genevieve’s unusual scent over 200 years ago.

He turned in his seat to face her. She looked very young and innocent sitting there, her expression full of curiosity, trepidation…and a little hope. Considering that he’d rocked her perceptions of their life together and their future, he thought she was being very brave. “If I’m interpreting your question correctly, darling, you’re asking me if your scent is similar to Genevieve’s?”

“Yes,” she replied. She narrowed her eyes and squeezed his arm. “I’m trying to make sense of this…this…what you’ve told me. And that seems like the best place to start: *why* you think it.”

Angelus nodded, concentrating. He wanted to be as specific as he could in answer to her questions. Much of his knowledge was vague, but he’d try hard to relay it so that her understanding was as complete as possible. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be disgusted at how little concrete evidence he was basing his belief on. He’d do his best to see that she was as informed as he was when she met Genevieve. For what that was worth. “All right,” he began hesitantly. “My analogies may not be the greatest, so please bear with me.”

Willow nodded encouragingly and patted his arm.

“Earlier, I said that people just tend to smell like people. Obviously, there are a lot of variations. Especially to a vampire. You and Genevieve don’t share a scent, but it’s similar in the way that while flowers smell like flowers to humans, they all smell different.” He grinned, “For you, food would be an ideal analogy. It’s all food, but there are unlimited different smells that tell you that. I mean, your nose tells you whether it’s baking bread, or cookies, that you smell in the oven, but beyond a shadow of a doubt, your brain recognizes that it’s food. In that same vein, magic is distinct, but different too. Spices are the most accurate comparison I can think of. Genevieve’s scent was more like incense, and yours is more like…maybe cinnamon and nutmeg, but more exotic.

“I know you prefer absolute facts, but this is my theory: your magical scent signature is interpreted by my brain with homey, familiar smells.” He grunted in frustration and dragged his fingers over his face. This was hard to put into words. “Remember the night at the school?”

“Sure.”

“I knew, as I held you, that you were mine. Your scent told me. Obtaining you became my sole focus.”

“You knew all of this back then?” she snapped testily.

“No!” He shook his had adamantly. “No, no, no. Not consciously, anyway. At that point, if I’d even stopped to define it, it was more of a vampire thing. A ‘me’ thing, really. I’ve always been…obsession prone.” He wasn’t thrilled at confessing that and stopped to gauge her reaction.

“I knew that.”

“Oh.” Huh. He’d expected—he didn’t know what he’d expected. Indignation, maybe. “Well then, you can see how I didn’t immediately comprehend that things…might be more complicated.”

“Well, yeah, I guess,” she said uncertainly. “But, I’m not a witch. I’ve, you know, been exposed to the mystical a lot, that’s for sure. Being under the power of magic like when Ethan Rayne invoked the spirit of Janus that time on Halloween, or when that Bezoar’s egg ‘neuro-clamped’ me isn’t *doing* magic, though. I think the closest I came was when Xander and I poured holy water and wore robes when Giles buried the Master’s bones. It seems like quite a stretch to say that I have a ‘magical scent signature’. Are you sure the Hellmouth hasn’t…confused your ‘sniffer’?” Willow frowned in concentration. “I’m still really unclear about how you came to think we are like Genevieve and Nicholai. And what that means exactly, if it’s true.”

Angelus nodded. “I have a lot to tell you yet. I’ll try to be concise. It’s difficult. There was no big epiphany. Things came to me slowly—and I was in denial, or something, because in retrospect, I didn’t put two and two together very quickly. Genevieve will have to tell us why you carry the scent of a witch. My guess is that you are one and just haven’t realized it yet. But, definitely no, the Hellmouth hasn’t, ahem, ‘confused my sniffer’, as you so charmingly put it.”

Willow’s mouth formed an ‘o’ and frown lines appeared as she tried to digest his disclosure and the new possibilities it presented.

While she struggled with that, he took a moment to order his thoughts. Since he wasn’t even positive when he’d come to connect the dots, it was tough. Besides, “Sweetheart, would you prefer that we had this conversation elsewhere? The beach? Home? This could take awhile and I want you to be comfortable.”

“Ohh, no. Right here, right now, mister. It sounds to me like this matter has waited long enough,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Angelus raised his hands defensively. “Okay. Just asking.” He forced himself not to smile at her huffy response. It was definitely not the time to provoke her ire. Back to business, then. “You see, normally my relationship with you—meaning a human—would include…demand, actually, torture and all manner of physical and mental abuse.”

Willow swallowed hard and motioned for him to continue, although his words visibly shook her.

“I would’ve taken joy in your pain and suffering. You would’ve been a pet…chattel. My nature would dictate those terms. Our relationship is an aberration. Unnatural to my…well, nature. Humans don’t *matter* to vampires—except as victims. Yet, from the beginning, you’ve mattered a great deal. I won’t lie to you; I got off on your tears and upsets. But not to a normal degree…and I didn’t set out to cause them.

“I did question the oddity of things a bit, but didn’t dwell on them.” His tone became confiding, “I’m not one for introspection. I resist it.”

Willow’s response was to purse her lips and roll her eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, but chose to ignore the mocking look. Obviously, that aspect of him was not news to her. “My feelings were…new to me. There would be moments with you when I felt ‘shifts’ inside of me.” He blinked, searching for the right words. “Things passed between us, I felt. Deep things. Intimate things.”

“Me too,” she said softly. “I felt them.”

He pretty much knew that, but didn’t respond, just studied her for a long moment before continuing. “The night we made love for the first time, you referred to a bond between us. That resonated with me because it was the first time….” He paused and sighed, “I don’t know…it validated something I hadn’t acknowledged to myself. Then, later, it felt as if you were claiming me. Like a vampire claiming, but different. That is to say, emotional, instead of with blood. But I instinctively recognized it for what it was. Did you?”

Willow shook her head slowly. “No. Well, sort of.” She sighed and tapped her knee in thought. “It was…acceptance—of you. Of us.” She blew out a puff of air in frustration. “It’s hard to explain. I know what you mean, though. Go on.”

“Well, it felt like a union was solidified. And I didn’t feel any inclination to fight it. That is completely uncharacteristic. Vampires dominate. Period. Before you and I had even had sex, I willingly let something pass between us that…that, joined us as equals. Like so much else, from the very beginning of our relationship, it was completely foreign to me….” He rubbed his face with his hands, wishing he were better at articulating what had gone on in his head.

Willow patted his arm. “Angelus, just say it. If I don’t understand, I’ll let you know. I’m following you so far.”

“All right.” He gave her a strained smile and continued. “That night was *not* the standard issue fucking of a virgin by a demon.

“Maybe that’s when it dawned on me that we might be candidates for what Genevieve and Nick shared. Something significant and unusual was going on. I knew that I wanted you by my side forever. And even if you’d have agreed to it, changing you into a vampire didn’t appeal to me: you’d lose your soul and that would change our dynamic. I began searching for Genevieve. For answers. There was so much I didn’t know.”

That surprised Willow enough to interrupt. “What do you mean? I mean, I get why you’d want to find her and any answers she might have. But, why just her? They’re not together anymore?”

He shook his head. “No. Nicholai was killed.”

Willow looked stricken. “God, that’s awful! What happened?”

He grunted and loosened his tie. “There was a man, Daniel Holtz. He was a vampire killer. Hell-bent on hunting us down. Anyway, he tortured and staked Nicholai.”

Willow’s eyes filled with tears. “Genevieve must’ve been devastated. That’s so tragic. I can’t even imagine. I don’t think I’d ever recover if something happened to you, and we’ve just been together a short time. They’d had hundreds of years, like the great romance of all time, or something.” She sniffled and brushed her tears away. “When did it happen?”

He tenderly stroked the side of her face, touched that the idea of losing him was such a dreadful thought to her. “1771. In Rome.”

“Wow. That was a long time ago. How did she deal? And what about her immortality, since she was tied to him?”

“She took it hard. She was beside herself with grief for ages. I didn’t know it at the time, though. I was in Rome when it happened, but Darla dragged me to Florence shortly thereafter. She said it was to put a distance between us and Holtz. That was bullshit, though. She was insanely jealous of Genevieve and couldn’t get me away from what she called ‘the pathetically grieving widow’ fast enough.”

“Huh. So, how do you know that Genevieve is still alive?”

Angelus undid the first couple of buttons on his shirt and stretched his neck. “Years later, I saw her again. Her immortality was permanent. She still mourned, but she was content with her life; she said she’d be disrespecting Nicholai’s memory, and what they’d shared, if she didn’t make the most of it.”

Willow sighed. “Oh. That’s just…so sad. And romantic. I sure would like to meet her.”

“You will.” He took her hand and kissed her fingertips. “She’s on her way. She doesn’t know why I’ve summoned her, but she’s coming.”

Her eyes widened. “I see. Good.” She squeezed his hand. “Go on. I assume there’s more?”

He looked into Willow’s eyes intently. “Yes. But first, how are you taking this?”

Willow blew out a big breath. “I don’t know. I’m kind of in shock. Sometimes, while you’ve been talking, I’ve gotten scared. If what you suspect is true, I could become immortal, and that intimidates me. Then I get involved in the story again. Then you’d mention things that remind me of my fear of aging and losing you as a result. *That* would make me kind of giddy at the possibility of immortality. And in and around all of that I’d get pretty ticked off that you didn’t tell me this stuff sooner.” She sighed and blinked. “My brain’s kind of a rollercoaster right now.”

Angelus chuckled. “It’s a lot to think about.” The console between the seats was in his way, but he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply.

Willow wrapped her arms around his neck and returned it passionately. The evening had been emotional and she was pouring it all into the kiss.

When she bit his tongue, he groaned and slid his hands down to squeeze her ass.

Willow moaned and pulled away. “I don’t think this is something we want to get into here,” she said breathlessly.

Angelus looked at her suggestively and stroked his erection. “Are you sure? I think I’d like fucking you in the backseat. It would be cramped, but fun.”

She blushed and giggled. “Maybe some other time. We’re in a parking lot; there are people coming and going. We’d probably get arrested for public indecency.”

He was still hard and not ready to give up on getting laid. “There’s a blanket in the trunk. We could find a private spot and….”

“No, no, no. Wait until we get home, you, you…horn-dog.” She brushed at his hair, straightening where she’d mussed it. “Besides, you’ve still got things to tell me, right?”

“Yes,” he said resignedly, forcing his mind back on track. “The next part might piss you off a little.”

“Oh?”

Angelus glanced at the backseat longingly. “Are you sure you don’t want to knock off a quickie first?”

“Yes! Coward. Just tell me.”

“Fine.” He adjusted himself. “And I’m certainly not a coward. Some vampire I’d be if I were to be cowed by the likes of you.”

Willow just rolled her eyes and waited for him to continue his narrative.

“Genevieve and Nicholai were well known in the vampire community. Nick was old and respected, and their unique situation made them especially interesting.”

“Genevieve was accepted?”

“Yes. She’s exceptional. In a class by herself. Probably nobody could explain it if you asked them exactly why—but she was and is accepted and not messed with.”

Willow was resting her head against the back of the seat, listening attentively.

“So,” Angelus continued, “because of their notoriety, they were frequently discussed. Through the years there was a lot of gossip. In fact, that’s where I heard about—in vague terms—their being joined by a blood bond or some sort of vampire ritual—or both. I had never given any of the talk much thought, until recently. For obvious reasons, I now wish that I’d paid closer attention. A rumor I’d heard that’s of particular interest to me now is that in the early days of their relationship, they shared dreams.”

Angelus looked to Willow for a reaction, but there wasn’t one. “You see, it was said to be a sign of their bond. Willow, you and I have shared dreams.”

Her head popped up and she stared at him in surprise. “We have?” she squeaked.

Angelus nodded, wondering if this was when the shit would hit the fan.

“I…I, which dreams?”

“The ones in 18th century Ireland. Where you and I are happily married and have a beautiful family.”

Willow sat up ramrod straight and, for a moment, was speechless. When she found her tongue, she asked, “You had those same dreams?”

He nodded.

“But, how did you know that I was having them too?”

“You talked in your sleep the first time. After that, I just knew.”

Willow nodded slowly, “I see. You thought I’d be angry that you knew and didn’t tell me?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m not. I think I understand. Even though we shared them…they were very personal and…sweet. Intimate. The kind of dreams you just want to hold close and cherish.”

Angelus was relieved that she wasn’t pissed off, and glad that she understood.

“Sooo…you think the shared dreams are a sign?”

“I do.”

Willow pinched her bottom lip and contemplated that, but didn’t say anything.

He cleared his throat. “There’s one more thing. The day we had…the tiff about the gardener. Afterwards, when you were so hurt….” He fidgeted in his seat. “Your injuries were bad, so I tried something. I put a little of my blood in your wine.”

“YOU WHAT?”

Angelus winced from her shrillness. “Willow, it was for your own good,” he placated. “And it worked. You healed very quickly. Didn’t you notice?”

“I—um. At the time, I didn’t think about it. But you’re right. I did recover really fast. You know, it seems odd that I didn’t realize it, but then, *nothing* has been normal since I’ve lived with you. I just cruise along obliviously because I’m wrapped up in all the good stuff that’s happened. Being happy feels great, so you don’t question it, ya know?”

“Sure.” Angelus nodded. “Mostly, people only wonder ‘what the hell?’ when shit goes wrong.” He just had one thing to add to his last disclosure, and then he would finally be done. He thought. They’d discussed so much that he was bit frazzled. He’d hit the important points, though, and could fill in anything he might have overlooked later. Willow would help him, he knew. Her clever mind would be working overtime on all the information she’d received tonight. She’d be sure to have questions.

She looked a bit dazed. She was staring into space, toying with her necklace. Tonight had been a bit overwhelming and she’d shed some tears, yet she still looked unbelievably lovely. He was impressed at how well she’d taken everything. Of course, she’d shown remarkable resilience all along.

“Darling? There’s one more thing I should bring to your attention. It might be nothing, I just don’t know.”

Willow looked at him, her expression somewhat resigned, but still encouraging. “Okay. Go ahead.”

He caressed her arm, pleased with what a trooper she was. “After you drank the wine with my blood—which was a very minute amount, by the way—you were…uh. Well, you seemed more inclined to bite me and draw blood. Naturally, blood play is a big turn-on for me. I enjoy the hell out of it when you bite, and more so when you taste my blood. But, while I’d heard that humans will heal quickly with a small amount of vampire blood in their systems, I’d never heard of one…gaining a taste for it.” He hastened to add, “Not that you necessarily have. The timing of you becoming more aggressive that way begs the question, though. Soon Genevieve will arrive and once we convey all that’s transpired, she’ll have answers.”

Willow stared at him for a long time, and then let her head fall against the seat. She let out a huge sigh and shut her eyes.

Angelus ran his fingers through his hair roughly and took her hand. “Christ, Willow, it’s been a long evening. Things had to be said, though. You might say it was overdue. Hell, I don’t know. I have no experience with the nuances of a relationship like ours. How are you feeling, now that you’ve heard everything?”

Slowly, she turned to face him, resting her cheek against the seat. She raised their clasped hands, studying them thoughtfully, and then linked her fingers through his. “I have no idea, Angelus. I’m kinda numb. Kinda incredulous. For all I know, I might even be a little mad at you. Anyway, just so you know, I reserve the right. Um, to be mad, that is.”

He chuckled and brought their clasped hands to his lips. “That sounds fair.”

She gave him a small smile. “Take me home. Make love to me. My head is spinning from all of your big revelations. I just want to let my subconscious organize things, and then maybe I can bring some order to the chaos that’s my brain right now.”

Angelus grinned at her and said as he turned to start the car, “Believe me, sweetheart, you don’t have to ask me twice to take you home and fuck you.”

~Part: 28~

“Godamnit Willow! *You’re* the one who insisted that we wait until we got to our bedroom,” Angelus snarled impatiently. If he’d had any brains, he thought, he would’ve just parked the car in the driveway right by the front door, hauled Willow’s horny ass over his shoulder, and headed straight to their bedroom. But nooooo.

During most of the ride home from the restaurant Willow had been quiet and subdued, no doubt trying to sort through everything he’d told her tonight. He hadn’t been surprised by her preoccupied state of mind, it was to be expected. After all, the information he’d imparted and its ramifications were considerable and life changing. Drawing conclusions and coming to terms with them could take awhile—even for someone with a mind as quick as hers. Then, inexplicably, a mile or so before they’d reached the house she’d become *very* affectionate. By the time he’d pulled into the garage, her groping, wandering hands and teasing lips had them both worked into advanced states of arousal.

She’d steadfastly refused to let him fuck her in the car, and when he’d gone around and opened her door for her, she’d popped out and was all over him immediately. Now, here he was, struggling unsuccessfully with the doorknob while she had her legs wrapped around his waist, fingers tangled in his hair, and her tongue and teeth doing the most delicious things to his ear. She was a woman on a mission of seduction and if she’d heard his words, she gave no sign of it. Evidently, she considered overcoming obstacles his department. And, apparently, fondling, nipping, kissing, and licking every part of him she could conceivably reach was hers.

“That’s it! I can’t manage a lusty, wriggling, unwieldy wench wrapped around me *and* the damned door.” He gave up on the doorknob and slid his hands beneath her gown, squeezing her ass. Very nice: no panties. He moaned at the feel of her sweet, firm bottom and her moist heat pressed against his aching erection. He leaned his head back and demandingly captured her lips with his, surrendering to the overwhelming feelings of desire Willow’s sexual assault had provoked.

She grasped his head, her lips moving fervently against his, and moaned helplessly. Tightening her legs, she thrust into his cock, eliciting a hungry growl from him. Breathlessly, she ended the kiss and gasped pleadingly, “Angelus, bedroom. Mmm, hurry!”

“Ohhh no. Baby, you *asked* for this,” he said in a guttural tone. Angelus peeked over her shoulder and saw a clear spot on the workbench. The blood in his dick was pulsing and demanding relief. Now. He staggered over, sat her on the workbench, and began unfastening his pants.

“Willow, honey, pull your dress up around your waist,” he said urgently.

“But, but, but…not *here*!” she protested, sounding scandalized.

“Yes, *here*,” he replied sternly. “You started this, not me.”

She looked at him with big eyes and didn’t budge even though the scent of her arousal was off the charts.

Screw her stubborn sense of propriety; I’ll see to it that it doesn’t outweigh her lust for long, he thought arrogantly. “Fine!” He did it himself. Letting his pants fall to his ankles, he quickly and efficiently maneuvered the gown out of his way, parted her legs, and entered her with a satisfied groan of relief. “Ohh, yeah, baby. Nmmm.” She felt SO. FUCKING. GOOD. He’d thought he’d *never* get into her hot, wet cunt; she’d been driving him crazy. Roughly kneading her ass, he pumped into her furiously, burying his face in her sweet smelling neck.

Willow promptly forgot that she had been resisting and held his shoulders, throwing her head back and keening. “Oh, that’s so good. God! Harder…harder…yeah...ohhhh!”

“I can’t…I can’t…” Angelus ground out thickly. Roaring as he came, he continued to thrust as his balls contracted, expelling his ejaculation. When it had run its course, his forehead fell to her shoulder and he purred contentedly.

Willow was pushing her heels into his ass, trying to force his softening cock deeper, mewling and trying to gain her share of satisfaction.

He turned his head, his amused voice muffled by her neck, “Sometimes that’s what happens when you work a guy up that much and then try to make him wait for the payoff, you enticing little nymph.”

A panting Willow just grunted in frustration, digging her heels in more, now trying to gain pressure and friction as a substitute for hard cock.

“Don’t worry, me darlin’,” he said with a chuckle, lifting his head, “I’ll get you off soon enough.” He reached around behind himself, grabbed her ankles, and tried to loosen her grip.

Willow whiningly objected, “But, you said you’d….”

With a sexy grin full of promise, he replied, “When have I ever gotten my rocks off and left your pretty little pussy wanting, my dove? Now be a good girl and let go.”

She released him with a pout and he pulled out of her, receiving a whimper of dejection.

Angelus pulled up his slacks and refastened them, then sank to his knees between her legs. He put her knees over his shoulders and stroked them, then kissed and nibbled a path up her inner thigh. He smiled at her sighs of pleasure. “See, baby? I always take care of you.” When he’d nearly worked his way to her core, he slid two fingers into her and she cried out his name, thrusting into his hand. He worked his fingers expertly, and her already agitated vaginal muscles began to contract in earnest. This wasn’t going to take long, he thought smugly. His face shifted and he sank his fangs into the tender flesh of her upper inner thigh. As her blood flowed into his mouth, he began to massage her clitoris vigorously with his thumb. She screamed and writhed as she found her release. His fingers continued to work, helping her make the most of her long awaited orgasm.

Willow’s delirious little murmurings and hums of afterglow contentment made him smile as he lapped at the bite wound and her sensitive folds. She always tasted especially good right after she came, he thought rapturously, as he purred into her softness.

She leaned back, resting her head against the wall and lazily ran her fingers through his hair. “Mmm. That was good,” she said in a dreamy voice. “I can’t believe we just did it in the garage,” she added, her blissful tone tinged with chagrin.

Angelus wasn’t quite ready to quit his attentions. He loved being enveloped in her scents, silky thighs, and tasty, luscious cunt. And Willow certainly wasn’t complaining. “Remember that the next time you lay siege to me like that. If you don’t choose a place you’re willing to put out in, I can’t be held responsible,” he murmured against her. “I’m a deviant; pretty much, I’ll fuck you anywhere, anytime. My resisting your sexual overtures is highly unlikely.” He followed up his lecture by stiffening his tongue and thrusting it into her as far as he could, and then swirling it tantalizingly for maximum effect.

“Angelus!” she cried out hoarsely.

He responded by sliding it in and out forcefully several times for good measure. She deserved some tormenting for being such a tempting, yet resistant, little cock-tease earlier. His big finish was to remove his tongue and suck her distended clit into his mouth hard, manipulating it briskly. Her pelvis jerked in response and her grip on his hair tightened painfully. Satisfied with her unintelligible, but pleading noises, he tugged his head free of her grasping fingers.

With a devilish gleam in his eye, he rested his head on her thigh and looked up at her. “It sucks getting left high and dry when you’ve been teased mercilessly, doesn’t it, baby?”

Willow gave him a dirty look, but widened her knees further, hoping to tempt him.

Angelus sat back on his heels and chuckled wickedly. “Forget it, sweetheart. It’s time to move this party to our bedroom. I wouldn’t want to further offend your delicate sensibilities, after all. They’ve been tested enough for one day, I think.”

Willow nodded in reluctant agreement, completely oblivious to his sarcasm. “Yeah, there’s not a lot of dignity in making out in the garage.” She did her best to readjust her gown and assume a more ladylike position.

“Ho!” he responded with a bark of laughter. “Is that what we were doing, darlin’? ‘Making out’?”

“Yes,” she answered in a tone of genteel indignation. “And stuff.”

“Golly gee, Willow,” Angelus said with an earnest expression and a hopeful tone, “since we ‘make out and stuff’--and do ‘it’ in the garage--does that mean we’re going steady?”

She wrinkled her nose and tried not to smile at his performance. “Sure, make fun. I was just trying to get a little affection.” Her voice sounded much more like ‘pre-abduction’ Willow than usual. “I can’t help it if I’m not as, as, rude, crude, and direct as you are.”

Angelus raised an amused eyebrow at her and stood to kiss the tip of her nose. “Believe it or not, my sweet, I’m not anxious for your vocabulary to catch up with your experience. Your mode of expression is refreshing and enchanting just the way it is. You’re good for an old, jaded, degenerate vulgarian like me.”

Willow looked skeptical but, nonetheless, appeased.

Angelus lifted her off of her perch and while she straightened herself, he asked, “So, what got into you? It was certainly erotic getting besieged so suddenly by your amorous attentions, but out of character for you.”

Willow didn’t answer immediately, but turned around instead and asked, “Is my butt dusty?”

“No. The bench was spotless, you’re clean.” He stroked her ass and gave it a gentle squeeze, “It is lovely, though.”

She blushed, and turned back around, then gave him a shy smile of thanks and answered his earlier question. “I was tired, earlier in the car, of thinking about everything you told me. It was just too much to take in at one sitting.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his chest, sighing when he hugged her close. “I just wanted to drown in all of the physical things you make me feel, and distance myself from that...complicated mental stuff for awhile.”

He stroked her back. “I suspected as much.” Pulling away, he raised her chin with his fingers. “How about we head into the house and I spend the rest of the night distracting the hell out of you? If I apply myself, I might even make you forget your own name.” He was pleased that his words and sultry tone sent a shiver down her spine and he bent to give her a kiss that lent credence to his words.

When she was properly weak kneed he ended the kiss and took her hand, leading her toward the door. She followed docilely, still dazed.

The doorknob was still a challenge, but it turned. “Darling, remind me to tell James that this door needs looking at.”

“Okay.” Suddenly she stopped short. “Wait a minute. Look at me a sec, am I, you know, presentable?”

He turned around and gave her a once over. “Worried that the staff will know what we’ve been up to?”

She nodded self-consciously.

He chuckled and tugged a dangling lock of her hair. “You don’t look ravished at all. The only evidence to speak of is your hair. ‘Mussed’ suits the style, though, so it looks artfully intentional. Your make-up is mostly gone, but that looks natural.”

“Good,” she said with a satisfied smile, and suddenly Angelus found himself the one being led by the hand. “Hurry.”

“I’m enjoying the hell out of this ‘bossy, take-charge Willow’,” Angelus said, laughing with approval. “Think we can keep her?”

She turned around and gave him a mischievous glance that captivated him and he swept her into his arms, nuzzling her neck.

Willow giggled and feigned protest as he opened the front door and carried her over the threshold.

“Does this make you feel like a new bride, dearest?”

Before she could respond they were both distracted by a gasp of delight and in unison turned their heads toward its source.

A melodic voice rang out enthusiastically, “Welcome home, my darlings! I’ve been waiting for you for ages. Centuries, actually. How splendidly appropriate that I should first encounter you two together as you’re coming over the threshold like conventional newlyweds. What a lovely picture you make: a vampire, a witch…and not a curse in sight.”

Angelus quickly recovered from his start of surprise. “Hello, Genevieve.”

~Part: 29~

She was as lovely and vivacious as ever, Angelus noted. And early. It was a damned good thing he hadn’t waited any longer than he had to bring Willow up to speed, he thought with relief. Considering his darling girl’s insecurities, being greeted in her own home so effusively by an exceedingly beautiful female stranger might have been…off-putting. First impressions were important and it would have been unfortunate if Willow had felt threatened initially. It was obvious that Genevieve felt very at home here.

Willow, who was still in Angelus’ arms, was speechless and agog. He got her attention by placing a soft kiss on her forehead and gently putting her down. She stood stiffly mute, but gave Genevieve a small smile.

“Willow, this is my old friend Genevieve. Genevieve,” Angelus said, smiling proudly, “this is my darling Willow.”

Ignoring Willow’s shy reticence, Genevieve glided over to her and clasped both of her hands, “My dear, I’m so delighted to meet you! The moment I entered your gracious home I knew why Angelus had summoned me. The very walls and air are alive with the special nature of the relationship that you two share. I had all but given up hope of ever again witnessing a union such as the one my beloved Nicholai and I had.” Fighting back tears of joy, her voice caught and she kissed both cheeks of the still stunned and speechless Willow. “I must confess, my curiosity got the better of me and I’ve been giving your excellent staff the third degree about you.” She whispered in a confidential tone with an infectious grin, “They are admirably discreet, but it’s clear that they adore you.” Genevieve cupped Willow’s cheek, “You are lovely. I look forward to getting to know you.”

Suddenly, she gasped, “Forgive my appallingly bad manners! You’ve just come home and here I am, a perfect stranger, rushing up to you and coming on like a freight train. What must you think of me prattling on so? Please, forgive me,” she said sheepishly.

Willow smiled shyly, unable to resist Genevieve’s affability and captivating charm. “Please, don’t apologize. I’m the rude one. You’re very kind, and so beautiful…I-I’m just kinda overwhelmed. Angelus just told me about you for the first time tonight…”

“Really?” Genevieve responded wryly, raising an accusing eyebrow at Angelus, who looked uncharacteristically, but appropriately, abashed.

“And, and,” Willow continued, “I was so fascinated by everything he told me about you—and here you are…in the flesh. And not, you know, just a romantic fairytale. I’m really honored to meet you. I want to be polite, and welcome you properly, and not stare like a star-struck idiot, and ask you a million questions, all at the same time. You’re—it’s, um, like meeting a celebrity or something. But, you’re so nice and approachable…” Willow stopped short and blushed profusely. “I’m babbling. I babble. Sorry. I’m nervous.”

Genevieve beamed, radiating warmth, “Thank you, Willow, for your kind and flattering words. Please don’t feel self-conscious about how you expressed yourself. It’s always refreshing to meet someone genuine who says what’s on their mind without contrivance or pretension. You are perfect. And enchanting. We’re going to be great friends—I can tell already. Angelus is a lucky devil, chére, to have such a delightful creature to spend eternity with.”

Willow smiled happily, still blushing, but clearly in awe of the new arrival.

Angelus had been contentedly watching in silence, very pleased with how taken Willow and Genevieve were with each other. Their first meeting was a great success. He hated to interrupt their little ‘mutual admiration fest’, but, “It’s wonderful to see you again, Genevieve. Thank you for coming so quickly. We’re grateful.”

Genevieve smiled broadly and gave him a friendly hug. “You’re most welcome. Naturally, I’m over the moon about the circumstances. You can’t even imagine how much.” She pulled back with a serious expression. “I had thought I’d never see you again. I hadn’t heard about your soul’s departure. I’m sure there’s an interesting story there.” She placed kisses on both of his cheeks. “But I’m happy to see you. Welcome back…from wherever you were while your soul was in residence.”

Angelus smiled rakishly, “Thank you. It’s great to *be* back. Now then,” he took Willow’s hand in his and placed his other hand on the small of Genevieve’s back, guiding them out of the foyer, “let’s adjourn to the parlor. We can make ourselves comfortable and address everyone’s questions.” Once he’d seated the ladies, he rang James and requested refreshments.

Willow and Genevieve were blithely chattering away as if they had been the best of friends for years, so Angelus stretched out in a chair unobtrusively, observing silently, and enjoyed the feminine energy they were generating. It was a relief to finally have Genevieve here to answer questions, but he did regret that Willow hadn’t had a little more time to adjust to everything he’d told her earlier tonight. They were getting along so famously that it probably wasn’t even going to be an issue. In fact, he thought, Genevieve had so quickly and thoroughly put Willow at ease that it might work in his favor by making Willow more receptive. With the charismatic Genevieve as ‘Exhibit A’, the possibility of immortality might be less daunting to his darling girl. Surely, by being such an exceptional example, Genevieve would put a friendly face and form on what had previously just been a somewhat frightening and surreal prospect.

Angelus was perfectly content to continue watching their animated conversation for the moment. It was very diverting. They were like two peas in a pod. When James arrived with the refreshments, the two men exchanged amused glances at the ladies’ mutual exuberance.

Willow and Genevieve ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ at the treats, thanking James profusely. Angelus smirked when the normally reserved and contained man grinned at them besottedly before taking his leave. He certainly couldn’t blame him: they were a lively and enchanting combination.

There were advantages to having Genevieve here that hadn’t even occurred to him previously. Willow had apparently been starved for female companionship. Now that that need was met, maybe she would forget about her desire to visit Sunnydale—at least for a while. Also, as he listened to them, Willow’s self-esteem was getting a shot in the arm. Genevieve was showering her with compliments on her ‘perfectly flawless complexion’, ‘absolutely divine red hair’, ‘marvelously lithe and graceful figure’—she raved on and on and it pleased him to no end. Willow had now met, and become fast friends with, the Anti-Cordelia. Who knew there was an antidote to that vile and toxic cheerleader? he wondered with satisfaction.

Since one of the first things out of Genevieve’s mouth had been confirmation that he and Willow did indeed share the bond that he had suspected, it wasn’t hard for him to relax and remain patient. Besides, surely the frenzy they’d hypered each other into would die down soon. After all, Genevieve had just traveled across the world in record time and Willow had had a long evening of acquiring life altering information, topped off by vigorous fucking in the garage. Exhaustion couldn’t be far off for either of them. He’d just wait them out.

Naturally, Genevieve hadn’t changed a bit, he noted as he took a closer look at her. Younger perhaps, but that was just because of her mode of dress. She had previously appeared to be in her early to mid twenties, but now she looked approximately Willow’s age. Actually, Willow’s glamorous gown and jewels made her presently look to be the older of the two. Genevieve’s slender, but shapely, body looked very girlish in faded jeans, a white tank top emblazoned with a colorful, embroidered butterfly, and bare feet. He had to smile at that—two more things the pair apparently had in common. An avoidance of footwear, and clothing decorated with whimsical images. Three actually, since their mutual passion for food was obvious.

As Angelus continued to study Genevieve, he realized what a striking contrast she and Willow made sitting there side by side. They complemented each other perfectly and would definitely turn heads anywhere they went together. Genevieve had clear olive skin, large brown eyes, a long, slim, elegant nose, and thick, lustrous dark brown hair that fell to her waist. She wore little make-up, which suited her. Neither overshadowed the other; Willow’s delicate alabaster exquisiteness and titian hair were only enhanced by Genevieve’s dramatic Gallic beauty. They both exuded an effervescence that intensified their outward loveliness. In both cases, it sprang from their openness and was very similar, but Willow’s was fueled by her sweet, generous spirit, and Genevieve’s by a…certain dynamism.

Fortunately—and oddly, he mused--while he’d always thought Genevieve beautiful, he’d never been attracted to her sexually. Otherwise he’d surely be sitting here fantasizing about a ménage a trois as he studied them—which would be very inconvenient. Yes indeed, not having to restrain oneself from a taboo lust was good, he thought with noble satisfaction.

Angelus didn’t get to revel in smug self-righteousness for long. Well, fucking shit, he thought with distress and irritation as he recalled something that could…pose a problem. While he felt no desire towards Genevieve, *technically* he had known her intimately.

In the past century she and the soul had crossed paths a couple of times. While they had not felt mad passion for one another, mutual needs and shared feelings of loneliness and disconnectedness had brought them together. They had found comfort in familiarity, which had been a welcomed respite from the overwhelming sadness both lived with daily. In those days, Genevieve was still deeply mourning Nicholai, and ‘Angel’—pathetic bastard—existed in a perpetual quagmire of misery and remorse.

Both times they had met up, they had spent hours and hours talking, empathizing and sympathizing about their respective plights. Angelus shook his head in disgust as he remembered the maudlin pity parties. The worst of it was, all of that had led them to fall into each others’ arms, and ultimately, beds.

Ugh. ‘Melancholy fucking’ would be difficult for him to fathom if he hadn’t been there—in a manner of speaking. If that wasn’t a waste of a hard prick and willing female, he thought with a sneer, he didn’t know what was.

So, while their bodies had come together and they had felt a friendly affection for one another, the sole purpose of the acts had been to help assuage the feelings of sorrow and isolation they had had in common.

Would he, Angelus, now get bitten in the ass because the loathsome soul had needed a sexual band-aid for his emotional boo-boos? Surely not. Genevieve clearly recognized him as separate from the soul straightaway. She had no trouble whatsoever making the distinction immediately.

He felt calmer now that he’d considered that. It was unlikely that she would see any reason to rat him out and inform Willow of those interludes since they hadn’t actually been with *him*. Furthermore, she was so pleased to finally encounter a couple who shared the bond that she and Nicholai had had that she would go out of her way not to do anything that might cause dissension in the relationship. He supposed there was an outside chance that she would tattle out of some…‘female rules of disclosure’. Women, in his experience, did have that tendency. Well, in any case, he wasn’t going to make like Angel and brood about it. It was also encouraging to remember that Willow had no issues with the fact that the soul had fucked Buffy—so it followed that she wouldn’t get her panties in a bunch over things that had transpired with him decades ago. Right?

His speculation was suddenly cut short by a distinct canine scent tinged with cinnamon that suddenly filled the air. As he looked around for the source, something bumped his outstretched leg. Leaning forward, he saw a small fluffy dog alternately head-butting him and doing a tail-wagging little wiggling dance. Chuckling, he thought he shouldn’t be surprised: Genevieve was a dog lover. Big brown eyes looked up at him flirtatiously from a compressed face. With wiles like that, the tiny ball of fur *had* to be female, he concluded. Apparently considering his lack of resistance as an invitation, the forward mini-beast used his legs as a bridge and installed herself on his lap, where after some nuzzling, she nestled down contentedly. And hummed. He reluctantly scratched behind the brazen little hussy’s ears and she hummed louder. She almost sounded like a cat purring. Bizarre. “You must be Violetta’s successor, wee one.”

“Yes, she is,” Genevieve said with amusement. “Well, one of them. Darling Violetta is long gone.”

Angelus looked up and saw that the ladies had finally been distracted from their gab session and were watching him with silly grins on their faces. He glared at them indignantly. Pointing accusingly at the red and white bundle, now snoring blissfully on his lap, he said, “This is *not* my doing. The brassy little strumpet climbed up here and made herself at home without invitation or encouragement.”

He tapped the dog’s plump flank with a finger and told her sternly, “I can see that you’re accustomed to manipulating people with your dubious charms. Well, that flat face of yours must impair your sense of smell, because *I’m* not ‘people’.”

Roused from her nap, the little dog looked up at him drowsily and blinked, not remotely concerned about being woken up or lectured. Once she saw that he was finished speaking, she waved her flowing tail once and settled back down to resume her siesta.

He harrumphed, but left her in peace.

Genevieve giggled. “Angelus, Willow, I’m pleased to introduce you to Amerie. She’s a shih-tzu—and the light of my life. Angelus, don’t be offended that she’s unafraid of your ‘superior predator’ status. As my pet, she’s been exposed to vampires since infancy, and has only had positive experiences with them. Besides, she has an uncommonly sunny disposition—nothing ever seems to perturb, much less frighten, her.” Genevieve glanced at each of her hosts hopefully, “She’s a very good girl and won’t be any trouble. I hope her presence won’t present a problem.”

Willow reached forward and patted Genevieve’s hand. “Of course not! She’s adorable. I’ll love having her here. I’ve always wanted a puppy and it’ll be so fun to have one running around the house.”

Angelus really didn’t mind, he just hated looking like a pussy with a frou-frou little dog presumptuously curled up on him as if he were there for her convenience and comfort. He smiled reassuringly at Genevieve, “Don’t worry. I know how much your canine companions mean to you. You are our honored guest, and so is your beloved pet.” Actually, he respected the little imp’s audacity. He found the usual canine trait of sycophantic submissiveness annoying and undignified.

Genevieve smiled at him beatifically. “Thank you. Shall I remove her from your lap?”

He shook his head. “No. She’s fine.” He frowned at the conspiratorial looks of amusement Genevieve and Willow exchanged. “I’m just thinking that we have a lot to discuss and there’s no reason to further disturb Amerie,” he said a tad defensively.

Willow pursed her lips and nodded sagely, “Absolutely. Let sleeping dogs lie.”

Genevieve clapped her hands once and smiled at both of them. “Good, good. Now that that’s settled, let’s get down to business.” She took a sip of her beverage, gathering her thoughts. “I’m thrilled to be here for this momentous event and will happily stay for as long as it takes to inform and aid as you two adjust.”

She smiled at Willow reassuringly and then looked at Angelus with interest. “Your lovely mate has given me a condensed version of recent events. I must say I’ve learned some intriguing, rather fantastical things. I understand that for simplification purposes your souled counterpart is referred to as Angel—and I will adhere to that.”

Genevieve shook her head in disbelief, “Angelus, I must say that it was astonishing to discover that not only is Willow the current slayer’s best friend, but that Angel was in love with her. How…Shakespearean is that?!” she asked rhetorically. “And then for this Buffy to have been the unwitting catalyst for your reemergence! Mon Dieu!” She threw her arms up dramatically, “It boggles the mind. I have many questions—to say the very least. Right now, though, my prime objective is to address *your* immediate curiosity and concerns.

“Oh!” She winked at Angelus, “And you’ll be amused and interested to hear that Willow was positively delighted to learn that my immortality hasn’t precluded food. The fact that I eat and enjoy it so much was welcome news to her.”

Angelus raised an eyebrow and roared with laughter, causing Amerie’s ears to perk up. “Only Willow would consider that priority information at a time like this.”

Willow gave him an affronted glance and turned to Genevieve. “Well! Food is good. *Really* good. It would be—you know—a big shame to live forever and be deprived of it.”

Genevieve nodded enthusiastically, “I couldn’t agree more, chére. Rest assured that as one of life’s great pleasures, food, and your enjoyment of it, will continue.” Her expression became quizzical as she glanced back and forth between Willow and Angelus. “I’m confused about how the food issue hasn’t become a foregone conclusion by now.”

Willow smiled and said, “You’d think I would’ve asked as soon as Angelus told me that becoming immortal was possibly an option! Honestly, I was pretty stunned and overwhelmed by having so much dropped on me at once and hadn’t thought of that yet.”

Angelus nodded and interjected, “Willow is a bit uncomfortable with the idea of becoming immortal. She’s still struggling with absorbing all she’s been told tonight. I confess, I’m completely ignorant of what the transformation entails. Frankly, I never paid any attention whenever the topic arose—it just wasn’t relevant to me. Maybe if you explain to us what ceremony or ritual is involved, and what the time frame is, it will ease her mind. She’s years from full maturity, so time isn’t of the essence and she can leisurely examine the facts and make her decision.” He grinned roguishly, “Not that I don’t intend to actively influence her verdict between now and then.”

Genevieve rose from her chair and slowly paced in front of them, pinching her bottom lip between her fingers, deep in thought. Finally, she nodded to herself and stood in a spot where she could see both of them at once. Her expression was grave and she began to speak hesitantly in an apologetic tone. “This is an unfortunate…misunderstanding.” She paused to take a deep breath, “Fate has spoken; your alliance is sealed. Choice doesn’t enter into this.” She looked at Willow compassionately, “My dear, you already *are* immortal.”

~Part: 30~

Angelus was astonished by Genevieve’s announcement.  He had been certain that there would be a very specific process that he and Willow would have to go through in order for her to be his for eternity.  A spell, a ceremony, a ritual--*something*.  This new revelation was…fan-fucking-tastic, he thought with jubilation.

Willow was *his*.

Forever.

Already.

He would no longer have to worry that something fatal might happen to her before she could become immortal.  Or that she might refuse the transformation.  He could hardly believe it.

Incredible.

But, however unwittingly, he had led Willow to believe that she had a say in her destiny.  His eyes flew to her face, shuttering his own overjoyed reaction to the news.

Willow’s bottom lip was quivering and her eyes were full of tears as she whispered, “But, but…”

In his rush to get to her, to offer comfort and damage control, he forgot the small dog dozing on his lap.  In a lightening quick movement, Genevieve grabbed Amerie, moving her to safety.

Angelus kneeled in front of Willow and took her hands, which were tightly fisted and very cold.  Crystalline tears slid down her cheeks, but her expression was blank.  “Darling, I’m sorry that I misled you.  I swear I didn’t know.”

She didn’t respond.  He wasn’t even sure if she saw him.  She seemed to be looking right through him, as if he weren’t even there.  Whatever she *did* see had tears coursing down her cheeks more rapidly than before.  “Willow, can you hear me?”  Nothing.  “Willow!”

She began to shiver, but didn’t show any sign that she had heard him.

Genevieve went to Willow’s side and stroked her stiff back sympathetically.  “Oh, you poor dear.”  She kissed the top of the shaking girl’s head.  She looked at Angelus with a worried expression, “She’s freezing.  Put your jacket around her and hold her.  I’ll be right back.”

Angelus quickly did as she instructed and sat down with Willow on his lap.  He rubbed her arms briskly and whispered comforting, apologetic words into her ear.  He placed one of her fisted hands against his cheek and brought the other to his lips and flinched.  Willow’s touch was always so warm.  Her present iciness was very unpleasant to him, she just felt…*wrong* this way.  He wrapped his tuxedo jacket around her more snugly and held her close, rocking her.  Amerie whimpered and cried in distress from her perch on the couch, and he didn’t have a clue what else he should do.

“Stand her up!” Genevieve said sharply.

Angelus looked up in surprise; he hadn’t heard her return.  She was holding up fleece sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt.

“Stand her up,” she repeated.  “She’s in shock and very cold…obviously.  We’re going to take her dress off and put her in these.”

Together, they quickly and efficiently undressed Willow and put the warmer clothes on her.  She’d put up no resistance, but still seemed unaware of anything.  While Genevieve was putting thick socks on Willow’s feet, Angelus demanded, “Make this stop at once!”

She glared up at him and sat back on her heels.  “I see you’re still the same autocratic bastard you always were.”  Her gaze softened, “Don’t worry.  She’ll be fine.”  Redirecting her attention to Willow, she stroked the girl’s cheeks and kissed them.  “Chére, you’ve just had one too many shocks tonight, that’s all.”  She fussed, and hugged, and soothed like a mother hen, warming and comforting.

Angelus paced in front of them, completely at a loss.  “You shouldn’t have just dropped it on her like that,” he said angrily.

“Quit bitching at me, you big ox.  It’s for the best.  You’ll see.  Her life has changed dramatically over the course of one evening.  She just needs some time.  She’ll adapt.  Don’t underestimate her.  Now, make yourself useful and hand me Amerie.”

Angelus stopped and looked at her in confusion, “What?”

Genevieve rolled her eyes and huffed impatiently.  “You heard me, you great oaf.  I’m sure you noticed earlier that Amerie is like a little furnace.  We might as well put her excessive body heat to good use.  Besides, she’s quite the empathetic little thing and is instinctively comforting at troubling times.”

“Oh.  Right.”  Angelus scooped up the dog and deposited her on Willow’s lap.

Amerie promptly laid down and went to work, licking and nuzzling Willow’s still fisted hands, and humming like she had earlier.

Genevieve kissed the fuzzy little head and said, “Good girl.”  Moving behind Willow, she began to massage her shoulders in an effort to increase circulation.

Angelus shook his head in bemusement.  “Your dog makes the damnedest noises.”

Genevieve laughed.  “I know.  She’s an all around odd duck, but in the most delightful ways.”  Her expression became serious again and she leaned down to Willow’s ear.  “Chére, it’s time to snap out of it.  You’re worrying your mate--not to mention poor little Amerie, who might get hurt feelings if you keep ignoring her.”  She continued to coo and encourage as she removed hair pins.  When Willow’s hair was loose, she tenderly combed it out with her fingers.  “Angelus, your darling girl has the most glorious hair.  Not only is it beautiful, it feels like strands of silk.”

Pride warred with impatience and concern, so his replies were at odds.  “Yes, she has extraordinarily lovely hair,” he boasted loftily.  Then he scowled and snapped, “But, goddamnit, Genevieve, she shouldn’t be like this.  *Do* something.  Maybe we should put her to bed?”

“Quit trying to rush her.  This will resolve itself.  I expect that her head is full of the aspects of immortality that frighten and disturb her right now.”  She looked at him compassionately.  “You’ll need to get used to the fact that she will accept some things more readily than others.  Right now you have to start getting accustomed to the idea that this relationship is more egalitarian than anything you’ve previously experienced.  Willow is your partner.  As a master vampire—and an especially Draconian one at that—you’ll have to be doing some adapting your stubborn self.”

Angelus straightened regally and was about to have his say, but was interrupted by Amerie.  She had stretched herself out and placed her front paws on Willow’s chest, ‘talking’ away—in a decidedly bossy tone.  He couldn’t believe it when it worked.

Willow responded to the insistent little dog by petting her sides and smiling down at her.  Amerie wagged and snuffled with delight, getting held and cuddled as a reward.  “What a little precious you are!  You’re just like Angelus.  You see, he’s an expert at getting his way too.”

Angelus kept his acerbic response to those remarks to himself.  He was too pleased with Willow’s recovery to object at the moment.  “Sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re, um…over your funk.”

She looked up at him, but he couldn’t read her expression.  “Am I?”

Angelus knew it was unreasonable, but his temper was getting more and more difficult to keep in check.  Goddamnit, he thought, he’d made every effort to be straightforward and patient tonight.  Sure, she had a lot to digest and adjust to, but couldn’t she just be happy and excited about one fucking thing?!  She had everything a woman could ask for, for fuck’s sake.  She lived in the lap of luxury and had *him*.  Forever.  He was a great prize.  How could eternal youth and beauty combined with all of that *not* be construed as a good thing?

Accurately gauging his frame of mind, Genevieve gave him a stifling glance that told him to get his act together and keep his cool.  He threw himself into a chair and began to calm his thoughts.  He knew, without being told, that letting loose with an angry diatribe would aggravate the situation.

Once Genevieve saw that he was going to behave himself, she sat down in a chair adjacent to Willow’s and took her hand.  “Chére, tell me what distresses you so and we’ll discuss it.  I’ve been in your position and can help.”

Angelus was glad Genevieve was here to help guide Willow through this.  In his hands, he knew, the situation would’ve just deteriorated further.  He knew when to keep his mouth shut and let someone else see to his best interests.

Willow smiled gratefully at Genevieve, but her eyes were full of sadness.  “B-before…” her voice trembled hoarsely, so she stopped to clear her throat.  Another tear slid down her cheek and she began again, “Before, I didn’t feel so…disconnected from my old life.  You know, a lot has changed, but my friends and family didn’t know that—I was still *me*.  They all think I’m off at school, so we can e-mail back and forth—I’d planned to go visit sometimes.  Now…” her voice broke.

“It’s alright, chére.  Take a breath.”

Willow nodded and closed her eyes, breathing deeply.  When she opened them the sorrow was still there, but now they held determination as well.  “My parents are away a lot on business and aren’t particularly aware of me anyway.  So, it will be a long time before they notice anything—you know, my not aging and stuff.  My friends, though…I see myself visiting and getting hurt while helping them fight demons and stuff…”

“You will *not* put yourself in danger by helping the goddamned Slayer!” Angelus bellowed.

Genevieve glared at him.  “Hush!  You be silent and let Willow voice her concerns.  That’s what we’re dealing with right now.  Your concerns are a bridge that will be crossed when the time comes.”

Her tone brooked no argument and he slumped back in his chair sulkily, but nodded agreement.

Genevieve turned back to Willow and said kindly, “Go on.”

Willow gave Angelus a conciliatory glance, and then looked back at Genevieve.  “Okay, we’ll just say…if I sustain *any* kind of injury while I’m with them.  They’d notice that it healed right before their eyes.  They’ll notice that I’m not aging.”  She fought back a sob.  “I’ll be cut off from everything I know—the people that I care about.  Their lives will go on and I won’t be able to share them.  They’ll grow up, go to college, graduate, get married…have babies—and I won’t be a part of that.”  Her voice rose an octave and she tried not to cry.  “And then they’ll get older…and *die*.  I won’t even be able to go to their funerals.  Everything and everyone will go on in the normal way of life and eventually all be gone.  And I’ll be exactly the same.”  She covered her face and sobbed brokenly.

Angelus was no longer irritated, but he felt helpless.  He wanted to hold Willow, but Genevieve motioned for him to stay where he was when he went to rise.  She stroked Willow’s hand and murmured comforting words.

Willow wailed, “Everything I’ve ever known will change and I…won’t.  *Ever*.”

“Oh, my dear, please don’t grieve events that haven’t happened yet.  Believe me when I tell you that grief is a companion that should never be sought out.  It will find you in the fullness of time, but until then, life is a precious gift that should be celebrated.  *Everyone* suffers the heartache of loss eventually.  A long life has taught me not to take happiness for granted when it’s to be had.”

Genevieve sighed and was lost in her own thoughts for a moment.  “I’m sorry.  Putting myself in your place brings back memories.  Good and bad.”  She leaned toward Willow, grasping her hand tightly, “I have so much to tell you that will ease your mind.  There are options for you to consider that you aren’t even aware of yet.”

Willow looked at her hopefully, “There are?”

Angelus was intrigued.  “Really?  Such as?”

Genevieve nodded emphatically.  “Yes.  But first I’d like to say—and this is important to remember in general—life is delightfully, and sometimes maddeningly, unpredictable.  Fretting about what will be is a waste of time because, invariably, events unfold in a completely unforeseen way.”  She laughed.  “Fate dearly loves to prove us wrong.  Please, don’t forget that—it saves one from unnecessary worry and frees one up to appreciate the good things.”

She sat back in her chair, crossing her legs and facing Willow, “So, back to your options.  Because you’re a witch…”

Willow interrupted, “I’m not so sure about that,” she said hesitantly.  “I’ve never…”

Genevieve put her hand up, “Chére, you may never have been aware of it, but it’s true.  Trust me.  You will find that you possess natural abilities, and there are things that I will teach you.  For now, the most relevant are glamours.  You’ll learn to…”

Suddenly, all eyes turned to Amerie, who was ensconced in Willow’s lap, snoring loudly enough to disrupt the conversation.  Everyone laughed and the little dog slept on peacefully—completely oblivious to being the source of amusement.

Angelus was pleased to see Willow laughing.  A little levity was exactly what she needed right now.

Willow stroked the little noisemaker very gently, so she wouldn’t wake her.  “She’s so little!  How can she possibly make such a big noise?”

Genevieve snickered and shrugged.  “It’s a mystery.  Mostly, I find it endearing.  When we’re in bed and she’s snuggled on my pillow, next to my head, I don’t always consider it such an appealing trait, though.”

She rose from her chair and picked up Amerie, who snarled ferociously, then proceeded to snuggle against Genevieve’s neck and lick her enthusiastically.  “Yes, yes, yes, little one, mama loves you too.”  When she was carefully placed on the sofa, she objected with a cranky growl, stared daggers at Genevieve, then curled up contentedly to resume her nap.

Willow grinned.  “She’s so funny!”

Angelus chuckled and agreed, “She is.”

Genevieve smiled proudly and resumed her seat.  “Thank you.  Almost every time anyone picks her up she will snarl or growl.  Ignore it.  My theory, after much consideration of her peculiar behavior, is that wires are crossed in that adorable little head, because she never gets angry.  I’m sure she’d be appalled if she knew she knew her behavior could ever be interpreted as mean spirited.  The crabby look she just gave me is the actual extent of her temper.”

Willow shook her head in amusement, “I’m so happy she’s here.  What a cute little funny-bunny she is.  She’s a great distraction.”

Angelus liked the little scamp’s quirks, but he was anxious to get back to the magic topic.  Besides, expressing his fondness for their furry little guest would be bad for his image.  He cleared his throat, “Tell us more, Genevieve; glamours sound promising.”

“Oh, they are!” Genevieve agreed.  “With a little training, Willow will be able to create illusions.  If she’s injured, she can make herself appear…well, however she wants.”  She faced Willow again, “You’ll be able to give whatever impression you choose.  Your friends would see whatever you wanted them to.”

Willow nodded thoughtfully, “I see.  So, um, the same applies to aging then, right?”

“Yes!” Genevieve exclaimed with delight.  “You catch on very quickly.”

Willow smiled, pleased with the praise *and* the concept.  “That’s awesome.  Nobody ever needs to know that I’m…different.”  Her expression darkened slightly, “It doesn’t keep *them* from aging, of course, but at least I could be there for them.”

Angelus stretched out in his chair like a big cat.  Things were looking up, he thought contentedly.  Willow’s mood had lightened considerably—and as a result, so had his.

Genevieve was frowning now, deep in thought.

Willow looked at her suspiciously.  “What now?  What’s that look for?”

“Well…” Genevieve said slowly, “I’m just thinking, chére, you’re such an open sort of person…maybe it would be best if you put all of your cards on the table.  I’d like to suggest that you at least consider telling your friends the truth.”

Willow and Angelus responded simultaneously and very differently.

“Uh, uh.  No, no.  Bad, bad idea!”

“Excellent suggestion!”

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