Willow finished putting the last candle in place. Tucking an escaping stand of hair back behind her ear she turned in a slow circle checking her handiwork. Tonight was a celebration, a time of joy. It was not something she wanted to mess up. Going over her mental checklist one more time she made sure that everything was ready.
"Circle. Check." She'd brought a rake with her to clean out the small clearing of leaves and twigs and other accumulated woodsy stuff. Then she'd used a small spade to dig a shallow circle in the earth. Now she walked its circumference making sure there were no breaks.
"Salt for protection. Check." The salt she'd sprinkled into the trench sparkled when hit by rays of the sun shining through the leaves overhead. She had a vague feeling that she was suppose to use coarse sea salt but all she could get her hands on was plain old Mortons. She hoped that it would be ok.
Next on her mental list were the candles. "Candles taken care of. Check." She'd been a bit worried about the candles, afraid that they might turn over on the rough and uneven ground. Then she'd thought about partway burying them to keep them steady. Looking them over now she felt a curl of satisfaction at the arrangement. The burying idea had worked out well. This way there was no danger of them turning over -- the last thing she wanted to do tonight was start a forest fire.
Which brought her to the fire. "Firepit. Check." She was quite happy with the deep pit in the middle of her circle. It had taken more effort than she'd realized to dig the hole. She'd scourged the woods around her to find dead and broken limbs to fill it. Only those that had already fallen would be used in her fire tonight. For the finishing touch she'd sprinkled a handful of aromatic herbs on the pile of limbs. All that it lacked was the match to set it afire.
Wiping her hands on her jeans she gave everything a final look over. She was keyed up over the coming Beltane ritual she would be performing for the first time that night. Beltane was one of the eight festivals or Sabbats of the Wiccan religion. One of its major purposes was to celebrate the Great Rite, the coming together of the Goddess with her God but Willow didn't have anyone to portray the God to her Goddess so she'd decided to celebrate the other aspects of the festival -- the blessing of the earth and the calling for protection from the great lovers. If any town could use a good blessing, she thought, it was Sunnydale. Besides, it wasn't like she had any choice in performing the celebration solo. Oz was gone on the road with his band even though Willow thought that he would be the perfect representation of a god who represented the forest and the creatures of the wild. She chuckled softly to herself, who better to stand in for a nature god, than a werewolf. Xander was the only other option she really had and where once the thought of enacting the Great Rite with Xander would have made her all fuzzy and warm inside, now he was with Cordelia and she knew in her head, if still not deep in her heart, that it just wasn't to be. She was alone, without a man to partner her. She reminded herself firmly that being dateless wasn't a curse. "It just feels like one," she sighed softly. But the thought of a curse reminded her of Angel. As his soulful eyes rose up in her memory she ruthlessly pushed the image away. "Don't even go there," she told herself firmly. But as the image of Angel faded from her mind she sighed again.
"Well, looks like I'm ready or as ready as I'm ever going to be." Turning her back on her preparations she picked up her tools and backpack and headed back down the trail to her bike. She had to get home and get cleaned up before she would return tonight at sundown.
*****
As the new moon lit up the grove she'd prepared earlier, Willow picked her way slowly up the trail careful not to snag her ceremonial robe of deep wine red silk on any brambles. Stepping into the clearing she smiled, already feeling the gathering of power around her. Her blood quickened at the feeling and she breathed deeply of the warm April night's air. Throwing her arms wide she called "Merry meet" to the forest and the wild and to all the unseen forces that watched her this night.
Taking out her bone handled athame, or ritual knife, she walked around the circle she'd inscribed into the ground, cutting the air before her with the weapon, its dull blade making sure that it could never be used for harm. Her voice ringing in the stillness of the woods she called to the four quarters, "Guardians of the East, North, South and West, the circle is cast. Guard me tonight and protect me from all harm on this most joyous of nights."
She stepped to the first candle and drew out the matches in her pocket. She lit the brown candle and called forth, "Earth that is her body." Next she lit the blue candle. "Water that is her blood." Then the white candle. "Air that is her breath." And last, the red candle. "Fire that is her spirit."
Around her a breeze rippled, the air warm on her skin. Returning to the center of her circle she knelt down and lit the center fire and then drove the knife blade deep into the soil. With it as her anchor she grounded herself into the rich earth, feeling the life beneath her. Slowly at first and then quicker like a small stream becoming a raging river she felt the earth energy rise up beneath her, up through her legs, tingling through her body, awakening the sexual power within her until her body pulsed with need and desire. Willow could feel the dampness between her legs and the tightness of her nipples as they rubbed against the silk of her robe. As the power surged through her she realized that something was wrong, that these feelings and the power running through her were the beginning of the Great Rite and not the simple blessing that she'd been planning. With a start she realized that the power was no longer under her control. It was like she stood beside herself, aware, knowing and yet detached. Willow Rosenburg was no more, but had become something else, something infinitely older and more powerful. She had become, this night, an embodiment of the Goddess. The part that was Willow should have been frightened but she was not. The energies that caressed her body and mind held her not in anger or hate but in love and desire and protection and the goddess laughed with delight deep within Willow's mind.
Then the Goddess raised her arms and called to her lover. She called to the one who would complete the circle -- male to her female, death to her life, power to power. She called in a wordless croon of need that echoed around her. Then she waited.
*****
Even with her eyes closed she felt him enter the clearing. Felt the power caged within him, the embodiment of the Horned God, the lord of field and forest and stream, the one who was the counterpoint and complement to the Lady, whose power even now sang along her nerves. She could feel his strength and the wild untamed spirit that drives all creatures of hoof and horn and paw. She opened her eyes to see him through the dancing flames and woodsmoke that separated them.
"Angel," the part that still was Willow cried out in denial and desire mixed. Angel wasn't hers, would never be hers. But the part that was Goddess cried his name in welcome and held up her arms to the man who stood on the edge of the firelight.
He stepped forward until he stood just outside her circle. She that was Willow noted that the silk shirt he wore was partially unbuttoned revealing his pale smoothly muscled chest. His hair was mused, as if the call had given him no rest but drew him here without pause. The expression on his face was one of confusion and peace combined. That look of unaccustomed peace replacing his own usually tortured expression told her that he too was possessed by a power beyond his control.
"Lord," the Lady within her called.
"Dark Lady," he answered, his voice deep, sending a small shiver through Willow's body.
Willow watched in awed amazement as Angel slowly stripped off his shirt, his skin gleaming in the firelight. She swallowed hard, the panic rising up in her only to be soothed by a gentle touch in her mind, as Angel pulled off his boots and stepped out of his jeans. He faced her and she forgot to breathe. Again the silver laughter within her rang out in her mind. Then with a nudge from within she found herself standing on her side of the fire. Reaching up she pulled down the zipper of her robe, feeling his hot gaze on her as each inch downward of her hand revealed more of her body to him. With a graceful shrug of her shoulders, the robe pooled at her feet. She heard him suck in a breath that Willow knew he did not need while the Goddess laughed with delight at this small affirmation of her desirability.
He moved towards her and stepped within her circle.
She met him halfway, as was right, and drew him close. "I come this night to celebrate the Great Rite -- the renewal of all life, the gift of fertility to the land." And the goddess, who now shared Willow's quirky sense of humor, smiled brazenly up at him and added, "Oh Dark Prince, I call you to fill me with your black, naughty evil!"
That which was Angel and forest god combined, threw back his head and laughed in delight, the sound joyous, without the pain or guilt that Angel bore upon his soul. "Gladly do I celebrate Beltane with you, Dark Lady."
The firelight gilding his white skin gold, he took her upturned face in his hands, running his fingers down through the fire of her hair. For a moment Willow saw Angel struggle with himself and then a slow sweet smile curved his lips. "Thank you Willow, for my soul and for this gift of joy," he murmured. She felt his strong arms go around her waist, lifting her up to him, her body hot again his cool one, then he brought his lips to hers.
His kiss burned and consumed and Willow gave up struggling against this and lost herself in the sensations that he brought forth in her. Willow kissed Angel; goddess kissed god.
Reaching out she tangled her fingers in Angel's soft hair pulling him even closer to her, his lips firm against her soft ones. She was minutely aware of his body, of the way it fit against her, so hard against the softness of her curves. She groaned into his mouth as he lowered her back down to her feet, sliding her body against his.
With one strong hand Angel stroked her back, tracing the curve of her spine with a light touch. He held her breast in the other, callused thumb sliding over and around her nipple until the peak ached with desire. She could not control the arch of her back that pushed her taunt breasts against him, wanting more. Demanding more.
The low rumbling growl when it starts in his chest startled her and then made her shiver knowing that she was the cause of that unearthly noise, the force of his desire given voice. Willow felt the slickness between her thighs increasing as her senses were consumed by the man/god before her. Then he was kissing her again. His cool, wet tongue pushing past her lips, finding and stroking her own tongue, tasting her. She touched the tip of one fang with her tongue and felt Angel jerk in her arms. She stroked down his back and across his ribs soothing him. She was not afraid. Deliberately she darted her tongue back across the tip, flooding his mouth with the taste of her blood. She smiled against his lips as the shudder racked his body. Now it was his turn to moan against her lips. He was hers.
A few moments and a lifetime later he drew back slightly from her. The demon's mask was gone from his features and he was smiling. His dark eyes were half-lidded, his lips swollen from the pressure of hers.
"Command me, Dark Lady," he whispered, his voice rough. "Touch me. Feel how much I need you."
She slid her hand down from his neck, fingertips swirling around his nipples, scraping them lightly with her blunt fingernails. She worked her way downward in a meandering path while his teeth worried and nibbled the delicate skin of her throat. She paused, waiting. When the low growl came, she laughed softly and slid her hand the rest of the way down to rub along his straining erection.
At her touch the teeth at the edge of her shoulder bit down, though he bit with human teeth. He drew no blood but it was enough to bruise. She knew it was a deliberate marking and it excited her more. She wanted to possess and be possessed completely, in all ways, to give herself over to Angel the way the goddess within wanted to give herself to her chosen god.
As her hand continued slowly stroking him he bent to close his lips around one rosy nipple, the feeling causing her whimper his name.
"Say it again," he command, the cock in her hand pulsing.
"Angel." And then the other names fell from her lips, the names of those in attendance here, "Cernummos, Lugh, Tammuz, Pan, Hern . . ."
She could feel the power swell high in him at the names and then he named her and the power grew ever higher. "Cerridwen, Astarte, Diana, Athena, Hecate . . .Willow."
Energy rocked through her, the power she had over this man/god before her making her even wetter, building her own desire until she in turned wanted to drive him mad with his own. She dropped gracefully to her knees before him. Taking his cock in both her hands, she drew it into her warm mouth.
Above her Angel gasped and threw back his head as she flicked her tongue across the broad head. Tracing her tongue across his shaft, she licked at the swollen veins that ran its length from root to tip. Angel groaned. She sucked him in deeper wanting to take him in completely, the goddess taking control of her actions when Willow faltered in her ignorance.
Suddenly he was pulling her to her feet, his lips seeking hers, the kisses harder and less controlled. She welcomed the loss and drew him down to the ground, feeling her abandoned silk robe against her back as Angel slid his hands down her body. She arched up into his touch, closing her eyes against the sensations. His lips moved across her collarbone dropping cool kisses across her burning skin.
"Open your eyes. Let me see you."
Fighting the pull of the darkness she opened her eyes to find him staring at her, his eyes glowing. He held her gaze for a single heartbeat and then began to kiss his way down her body.
Almost roughly he spread her legs, his hands tight around her thighs. She knew that his fingers would leave faint bruises on her fair skin and she exulted in that marking as she had at the bite to her shoulder. He was laying claim to her in the oldest of ways.
She jumped when she felt his hand at the junction of her legs, his cool fingers seeking out her warmth. She opened her legs wider, whimpering as he slid one long finger within her.
"You're so hot, Willow," he said against her stomach. His tongue dipping down into her navel causing her to squirm against him and the finger that was slowly driving in and out of her. "So tight." She could hear the note of possession and triumph in his voice. It pleased her.
"Angel. . . I burn."
He turned those fiery eyes back up to her and raised his fingers. Eyes locked with hers he brought them to his mouth, his pink tongue carefully licking them clean.
"You taste of fire and earth and wind and water, my Dark Lady."
She couldn't prevent the blush that stained her fair skin at his words but he only chuckled. The sound driving deep into her body and causing her already fast beating heart to beat faster.
Angel moved up her body dropping lingering kissing along the way until he hovered over her. Reaching up she wound her arms around his neck pulling him down to her. His weight settled against her, she wrapped her legs around his hips trying to pull his thick cock inside of her. She could feel the engorged head slide against her wet entrance as he rocked against her. With every movement his shaft slid against her clit, the motion enough to tease and tantalize without giving her what she really wanted.
This time she was the one that growled. He took it as the true warning that it was. One broad hand holding her hips down he entered her in one long hard stroke. She can not hold back her cry as the pain ripped through her, her body going rigid with the shock. Sinking her nails into Angel's shoulders she rode out the burst of pain, her keening cry turning to one of pleasure as Angel slowed his thrusts within her until he was moving in a steady, timeless rhythm that left her gasping and panting beneath him.
His head buried in her shoulder she caressed him as he moved. The goddess once again directing her, matching her movements to his until they were a single entity, moving together.
Only gradually did she become aware of the voice at her ear. It was low at first and only as he got louder could she understand him. He was begging her, pleading with her. "Cum for me, Willow. Cum for me." The hand that still held her hips slipped between them and he moved his thumb in slow circles over her swollen clit. "Cum for me, Wllow."
This time when she screamed, it wasn't in pain.
Clamping her legs around his waist she raked her nails down his back completely surrendered to the ecstasy flooding her body. That small pain pushed him over his own edge. With a growl he sank his fangs into her neck sending his own orgasm flooding into her body.
*****
She awoke in the dark hours of the morning with Angel wrapped protectively around her body. She stared at him in horror. Oh god, oh goddess. What had she done?
Rolling away from him she snatched up her robe and hurriedly put it on, ignoring the pleasant ache in her body that told her exactly what she had done and with whom. The candles had long since extinguished themselves so she had only the fire to worry about. Its embers were dying now, the coals glowing red-gold. Quickly she kicked dirt on it to extinguish it while scuffing over the circle, breaking up its edges. She avoided looking at Angel's sleeping form but every time she caught him out of the corner of her eye she couldn't help starting in shock, the memories from the night before flashing before her eyes in vivid detail. Oh god, oh goddess. He was going to kill her. Buffy was going to kill her. Giles was really going to kill her. And Oz . . . oh god, oh goddess.
Finally there was nothing left to do but gather up Angel's clothes. Her hands shaking she knelt beside him.
"Angel."
Nothing.
"Angel."
Still nothing. Damn him, why didn't he wake up?
Louder this time. "Angel!"
"Wha?" The eyes that stared into hers were still glazed, the pupils dilated wide as if he were drugged. Hope flashed through her, quickly followed by guilt at what she was hoping. Helping him sit up she tried to get him into his clothes but it was like dressing a 3 year old -- all legs and arms and no help.
"Angel, we have to get you home now."
"Home?" he repeated, blinking slowly at her.
"Yes, home. Time to go home, Angel. The sun will be up soon. Remember the sun? The sun's bad. Remember? And oh, god, if you get toasted how will I ever explain that to Buffy. Let's go home, Angel. Pleeese." She was babbling but she couldn't seem to stop herself and all the while Angel simply looked at her from his seat on the ground with puzzled, vacant eyes.
"Please, Angel. Come on. We have to get you home now."
Slowly he stood up. She'd gotten his jeans back on him and zipped but couldn't get them buttoned. The shirt was on at least but she'd given up with the boots. He could go barefoot at this point. Tugging gently on his arm she pulled him along behind her all the while murmuring softly, "Please don't remember, please don't remember."
*****
One week later
The Library
Willow sat at her usual station in the library. She was supposed to be helping Giles research a prophecy, the others in the Scooby gang having left an hour or so ago. Willow had been hot on the electronic trail and had not wanted to stop at the moment and Giles had agreed to drive her home later. Now, she was fervently wishing she'd gone when she'd had the chance. She glanced at the computer screen in front of her but she was entirely too nervous to read, or even focus for that matter. Her stomach was tied in a knot that she was sure was never going to go away and she strongly suspected that she was hyperventilating. Wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans she snuck another glance at the cause of her agitation.
Angel sat nonchalantly at the table next to hers talking quietly to Giles. When he'd hesitantly walked in the library doors, she'd almost swallowed her gum but Angel had merely nodded and said hello to her. Since then he hadn't so much as looked in her direction. The small hope she'd been nurturing for the past week slowly began to grow. Maybe he didn't remember. Maybe her life wasn't over.
The sound of chairs being pulled back caused her to look up. Angel was standing and for a split second she saw him as he'd looked that night in the moonlight and firelight. She felt the blush heat her cheeks and quickly looked back at her screen. She began again what had become her mantra this past week: don't think about it, don't think about him, don't think it, don't think about him.
So engrossed was she that she didn't see Giles come up behind her until he rested one hand on her shoulder. The strangled scream she let out caused both of them to jump.
"Don't do that!" she yelled, eyes wide.
Giles looked down at her, his eyes wide with shock at her unusual outburst. "Willow, are you feeling all right?"
"S-Sorry," she apologized. "Just a little jumpy this evening."
"Well, Angel has given me a good lead on this particular prophecy and it's getting late. We'll start fresh in the morning. Ok?"
At her nod, Giles smiled in relief. Willow knew that intellectually Giles accepted that Angel had not been responsible for Jenny's death and Buffy's pain but the tension that Angel's presence created in him could only be put off for so long. Giles needed to get out of here quickly before he said or did something that many people would regret.
And then Willow's heart stopped as Angel spoke from the library doors. "Giles, Willow's house is on my way home. I'll walk her."
Willow turned pleading eyes up to Giles. No. No. No. No. No, her mind yelled. Don't leave me with him.
"Ah, yes. That would be very nice of you Angel. Willow, I'll see you tomorrow."
Giles was gone before she could even open her mouth.
She turned to face Angel and pasted what she hoped was her usually cheery smile on her face.
"Shall we?" he said, holding open the library doors for her.
*****
They walked in silence for which she was grateful. She didn't think she could have carried on a conversation and she had her fingers crossed tightly that he wouldn't try to talk to her.
Finally, after the longest 20 minutes of her life, they stood in front of Willow's house. Gathering her courage around her she turned to Angel, barely flinching when she met his eyes. "Thanks for walking me home." She turned quickly hoping for escape but was stopped when his hand touched her arm. Taking a deep shaky breath she turned back to him.
"I want to thank you for my soul, Willow. I don't think I've told you yet what your gift means to me."
Willow stared at him in amazement and her heart once again started beating. He was thanking her for his soul. He didn't remember. In the mix of her swirling emotions she wasn't sure whether or not she was elated he didn't remember or disappointed he didn't remember but either way she couldn't contain the huge grin that split her face. "You are my friend, Angel. I could do no less."
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, the barest touch of his lips against her skin. She abruptly stilled. "Goodnight Angel. Thanks for walking me."
She hurried down the walkway and entered the house.
Angel stood in the shadows and stared after her. It seemed to him sometimes that he was fated to always stand in the shadows. Then he smiled a slow, sweet, sad smile. Except once, he thought. Once he'd stood in moonlight and firelight and candlelight. "Goodnight, Dark Lady."
Turning, he hurried back down the street.
~End~
read the sequal 'Fires Still Burning'