~Part 1~

"My eyelashes may fill with tears/But it will look like stars when I
open my eyes/I may be crazy/I must be seeing things/But it will look
like stars when I open my eyes."--Shut Up Shelley

****

"It just isn't fair," Willow thought as she watched them lowering Jenny Calender's casket into the ground.

She looked around at the gathering.  Giles was beside himself, as was Buffy, though for very different reasons.  It had been less than a week since Angel had lost his sould and become Angelus again and wounds were still fresh.  Obviously.

Giles turned aand walked numbly away from the graveside.  Xander tried to go with him, but Cordelia grabbed him be the hand and led him off to her car.  Buffy stood at the edge of the grave and watched as the diggers threw dirt into the gaping hole.  Willow walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Buff?"

Buffy looked up with tear-filled eyes.  The look said it all.  The look said:  I am to blame for this.

"It's not your fault, Buffy."

Buffy let out a sob and shook her head.  She looked like she was about to say something, but stopped and begain to walk away.  Willow hurried after her.

"Wait," she called "I'll walk you home."

Buffy paused for Willow to catch up and then the two walked for a few blocks in complete silence.  As they neared Buffy's house, Willow felt the need to try and comfort her friend again.

"It's really not your fault.  It's not Angel's either.  Angelus--"

Buffy held her hand up.

"Angelus IS Angel.  And that IS my fault."

"It's not a bad thing.  I mean, it is.  I mean, he is the way he is because he was happy with you.  Doesn't that count for anything?"

Buffy stared hard at Willow for a moment, turned to leave, and then turned back.

"No," she said "You know what, Will, it doesn't mean anything.  And I can't expect you to understand the half of it because you've never done anything bad in your whole life.  You haven't even had the chance."

Then, Buffy left to walk the rest of the way home alone, leaving Willow standing open-mouthed in the street.

****

Willow went home and slipped out of the simple black dress she wore and into a flannel nightshirt.  She pulled her shoulder length red hair into pigtails and crawled into bed.  She was already deep asleep when Angelus climbed up to her window and into her room.  He quietly pulled the chair out from under vanity and sat it next to her bed.  He sat there all night watching her.  Then, when the sky showed the first signs of dawn he grabbed a piece of notebook paper out of her school books and quickly scrawled something down.  Then he left the way he came.

****

Willow opened her eyes slowly, squinting against the sunshine that was filling the room.  She swung her legs off of the bed and banged her knee against something.  Hard.

"Ow!"

Opening her eyes fully she saw her vanity chair sitting next to her bed.  She sat, confused for a moment, trying to remember when she had moved the chair.  Then she saw the note.  She picked it up and read it, her hands shaking as she did.

Dearest Willow,

Cemetary.  Tonight.  One hour after sunset.  Come alone.  If you tell anyone, I'll kill you.  If you bring anyone else, I'll kill them, then I'll kill you.  If you arm yourself, I'll kill you slowly.  And if you don't show, I'll hunt you and you'll beg for me to kill you.  Did you know that you look like a cherub when you're sleeping?  Of, and wear something pretty.

Angelus

Her whole body was shaking by the time she was finished reading and she could feel the bile rising in her throat.  She quickly ran to the bathroom and was sick.

****

~Part 2~

Willow had spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon in her room trying tofind a solution to her problem.  The more time passed, the more she realized she was in serious trouble.  Her instinct was screaming to run and tell Giles or Buffy, but Angelus had made it clear what he would do to her if she did.  And for all the threats he made in the note, it didn't sound like he meant her any harm if she just followed his instructions.  She shivered at the thought of meeting him in the cemetary alone.   She knew what he was capable of and he frightened her.  Finally, finding no escape, she went to her closet and began to look for "something pretty."

****

She was late.  Only about fifteen munutes, but she knew he'd be angry and one way or another he'd make her pay.  She was only a few rows
into the cemetary and she was already crying profusely.  The hem of the green satin slip dress she was wearing had been dragging in the wet grass and was not stained, the heels of her shoes kept sinking into the earth, her hair had been piled on top of her head, but the wink had pulled it loose and it now fell in limp strands about her face, and to top it all off, her mascara was running.  It was cold, it looked like it was going to rain, and she was going to meet the cruelest creature she knew alone and unarmed.  Willow Rosenburg was not a happy girl.  Suddenly, he stepped out from behind a tombstone and she almost screamed before she caught herself.

"You're lucky," he hissed "I was about to come looking for you."

He closed the distance between them in three quick steps and she backed up against a tombstone.  He put his hands on her hips and pulled her to him, grinding his pelvis against hers.  Her eyes widened, his skin felt cool through the thin satin of her dress.

"I like you like this," he said "You look beaten."

Without any warning, he lashed out and slapped her across the face.  She licked her lips and tasted blood.

"That's for being late."

Then he threw her over his shoulder and carried her off to points unknown.

****

~Part 3~

Willow kept praying that Buffy or one of the Scoobies were on patrol.  Angelus was walking fast through the cemetary and wasn't being the least bit careful with her.  If she lived through this she would be bruised.  The whole time he was talking jovially.

"The cemetary is like a garden if you think about it.  You plant something in the ground and raise something up."

He patted a tombstone as he walked past it.

"All these stones....like flowers.  The memory they serve growing, fading, and eventually dying away.  Of course, nothing we plant here lives.  But...."

He let his voice trail off and Willow felt his step change from grass to pavement.  She closed her eyes tight and silently willed this all to be adream.  A few minutes later she was very obviously still awake and they were very obviously at the front door of Angel's mansion.

"One thing I can say about Brood Boy," Angelus said as he walked inside "He may have shitty taste in clothes, but he does know how to decorate a room."

Once he had shut the door behind him, he uncerimoniously dumped her on floor.  She howled in pain as her hip connected with the hard marble.  He squatted down next to her and straightened out her dress where it had bunched up around her hips.

"Now here's the game," he whispered almost gently "I'm the cat and you're the mouse."

He flashed his game face at her and she couldn't move.  He frowned.

"A good mouse would run."

She still remained planted where she was and he leaned down until he
was at eye level with her.

"Not going to run?  Submissive or broken?"

He put his hand on her ankle and began to move it up her leg, pushing the dress up as he did.  He shook his head.

"Doesn't matter either way.  I'll find out soon enough."

Her whole body shook with sobs.  She could do nothing as his hand got higher and higher.  When he reached between her legs she held back a
gasp as his finger slipped inside her underwear and ran along the elastic edge.

"Cotton," he said appreciatively "Such a virginal little mouse."

With that he pounced on her, covering his body with hers, bruising her shoulders against the marble floor.  She tried to scream, but he brought his mouth down on hers with brute force, his cold tongue battling with her warm one for dominance.  She out his hands on his chest and pushed, tearing her mouth away.

"Why?" she cried.

He laughed briefly, sitting still above her.

"Why?" he mocked her "Why not? Because I can.  Because it will tear that little slayer bitch to pieces.  I don't really need a reason to do the things I do."

She flaied against his chest with her small fists and he captured them in one hand, holding them firmly about her head.  He put his game face back on and pressed his face to hers, nose to nose, until it began to hurt.

"I suggest you don't do that again or it will be you that is torn to pieces."

Willow pushed herself to the floor, getting her body as far from his as possible.  He let his normal face come forward and smiled almost sweetly.

"Relax," he cooed gently as his free hand absently rubbed one of her silk clad breasts.
 

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