She waited for him to walk his patrol, the growls of Oz in the cage below her a menacing backdrop to her unquiet thoughts.  She had found the access ladder to the roof by accident.  She didn't think any of the others, even Giles, knew that it was there.  But something about the quiet and peace of the roof lured her.  Up here, looking out over Sunnydale, the darkness seemed almost beautiful.

She had always been a creature of the day, waking early, a bright and bubbly morning person.  The darkness had always terrified her with its vague shadows and imagined creatures.  Now the darkness terrified her with the knowledge of its true dangers, dangers that almost made her wish for the shadows of her childhood. Shivering, she watched the darkness move, only to suck in a ragged breath as Angel stepped forth from the inky blackness that was as much his home as it was any of the other creatures of the night.

The heavy yellow moon lit the schoolyard with uneasy light, casting hard, sharp-edged shadows.  From where she stood, she watched him slip in and out of those shadows, completely at ease, one more hunter prowling in the night.  Glancing up at the sky, she remembered back to a time when she thought the full moon was a lover's moon.  Hearing the growl below her from the cage in which Oz paced, she flushed with guilt.  It was a lover's moon no longer, but a werewolf's moon.

She didn't think he'd seen her up on her rooftop sanctuary.  She would prefer to keep it that way though knew she wouldn't be able to avoid him forever.  He needed to know.  She couldn't put if off much longer.  But she was afraid of telling him, scared of him and of herself.  Actually, when it came down to it, she thought she was more afraid of herself.

But for now, in this timeless moment, she was safe and could watch him unawares.  She smiled slightly to herself, understanding the fascination Angel had with watching them from the shadows.  There was a certain power and voyeuristic thrill to be had from observing unknown.

Angel stopped in front of the school.  Her breath caught as he rose up on his toes and stretched, arms wide, his expression one of sensual abandon as he gave himself over to the feel of stretching muscles and sinews.  He was so beautiful.

She watched him glance up at the moon overhead and then over to the library.  She could almost see the thoughts in his head, the realization that one of them would be on Oz Watch tonight. Sighing, she turned and headed towards the trap door.  He would be there momentarily.

He found her sitting on one of the tables and stopped in the doorway.  If she hadn't felt the sweet pain that shot through her at the sight of him, she could almost have laughed at his expression.

"Willow," he said with small nod of head, his posture stiff and unyielding.

He had the look of someone holding tight to a very fragile control.  He was so very good at that control.  His facial expressions closed and guarded to where even those closest to him tended to forget that he could feel.  She'd never been fooled though.  His eyes gave him away every time.  You just had to know how to look.  Seeing the wild panic in those eyes now, she wondered what he remembered of their shared dream.

"A-Angel," she stuttered, hating herself for that nervous twitch of her tongue.

Balling one hand into a fist she dug her short nails into her palm, welcoming the pain.  Part of her whispered `tell him.' Another part screamed at her to run.  In the end she only stood there, caught in her hesitation.  Please go away, she silently pleaded.  But he didn't listen, coming further into the library.  With each silent step the anxiety rose higher within her, its hold on her tight and choking.  Before she was even aware of what she'd done, she slid off the table and was across
the room in a flash.

She saw the hurt in his eyes at her flight and it knifed through her.  She caught her own reflection in one of the windows.  There was a wild look to her, her eyes wide with the fright.  She saw his nostrils flare and knew he caught the scent of her fear. Willow spared only a thought to wonder if he caught the desire that even now was unfurling in the pit of her stomach.

Angel stopped, spreading his hands wide in a non-threatening manner.  "Willow," he said softly, "it's me, Angel.  Please tell me why I'm scaring you."

"Just go away, Angel.  Please."

"Tell me what's wrong."  There was underlying steel in his voice. A hint of the command that he had wielded as Angulus.

"Just go away," she said again.

Her agitation was starting to affect Oz and he began to growl loudly, leaping and rattling the door of the cage.

Stubborn vampire, she raged in mind.  Why won't you just go away? Go away and I can do this.  I can be strong.

"Willow, I . . ." he began, only to stop, his eyes wide and focused on one of her wrists.

Willow dropped her eyes, pushing down the sleeve of the shirt she wore.  She should have kept her eyes on him.  In the second she dropped her eyes from his, he'd crossed the room to stand before her.  Reaching out he touched her arm with infinite gentleness. Wanting to cry at that delicate touch she didn't resist as he pulled back her sleeves to show the fading yellow bruises encircling her wrists.

"My God, Willow, who did this to you?"  His voice was outraged, the anger a dangerous undercurrent to his words.

She tried to pull her wrists from him but he held her steady.  Shaking her head in mute denial, she finally said, "I can't."

"Willow, tell me," he insisted, his voice allowing no escape.  Dark eyes pinned her down and she found herself helpless before the entreaty in his gaze.

Sighing in defeat, she finally she whispered, "You did."

She felt her words run through him like a physical blow.  The eyes he raised to hers showed his disbelief.  She gave him a wan smile and held her hands before her.  He slowly wrapped his hands around her wrists, each bruise fitting perfectly with his fingers.  She felt the memory come back to him in the trembling of the fingers that held her.  He had grabbed her in fear and anger, though the anger was directed at himself.  She'd borne the cost of his outburst.

He released her suddenly, as if her flesh burned him, taking a step back and away from her.  "That was a dream."

She had thought the same thing, for a while.  She shook at head.

Angel was still backing away from her.  "No.  It couldn't have been."

Sorrow and compassion coloring her words, she disagreed.  "It was real."

At her words, he finally stopped his retreat to simply stare at her.  She noticed that he seemed to be breathing hard, his chest rising and falling in quick pants.  That reaction, before all others, told her exactly how alarmed with this he really was.  His body was falling back on panic instincts that it hadn't needed in over 200 years.

They stayed locked like that for long minutes, Angel simply staring at her as he fought the knowledge within himself.  The moment she saw the rise of his chest stop was when she knew he believed her.  The steps he now took back to her side were slow and deliberate and when he reached up to her blouse, his outstretched hand was steady.  Hyperaware of the undercurrents of emotions flowing around them, she stood still as a statue even he pulled aside her collar to expose two small, healing puncture wounds.

Angel touched one softly with a fingertip, her heart beating wildly beneath his touch.

Only when he touched her did she finally speak.  "You said it yourself, Angel . . . moonlight and magic."

It was like that simple touch broke something inside him.  He was visibly shaken by the realization.  She could see it in the tense muscles across his shoulders.  She resisted the urge to reach out to him and ease away his stress.  She'd had days to become accustomed to the idea.  He deserved that same time.

Once again he backed away from her, only to turn sharply on his heel and pace across the library while she moved to sit on one of the tables.  She could only watched him now.

It was mesmerizing in its own way.  The tight, controlled movements of his body as he stalked from one end of the room to the other.  His movements were reminiscent of a caged tiger, beauty and deadly grace combined with the power and instinct of a natural predator.  Watching him pace, his black coat swirling around his legs she felt her desire stir, her mind conjuring the images of Angel naked, of his muscles sliding beneath smooth skin.  She wanted to bury her fingers in his soft hair, to feel him tremble beneath her touch as she explored the cool silk of
his skin with her lips.

With a small jerk she pulled herself away from those thoughts.  There would be no more of that.  There could never be any more of that.

Angel stopped his pacing, his body language still tense.  "How? Why?" he finally asked.

Here was the part she dreaded.  "My fault.  The night of the Beltane ritual I . . . well, I guess you could say I called . . .someone."

"Your Goddess," he interrupted.

"Yes. . . sort of.  I called Her and She called you, a-as . . . as a consort."

His eyes flicked up to met hers and held them steady.  "I remember."

She blushed under that gaze as she remembered as well.  "Y-Yes, well  . . .um . . .She should have left.  B-But She didn't.  She likes you . . ."  Willow stopped and then taking a deep breath she added quietly, "and me."

For all that her last words were whispered, Angel heard.  "You and me."

Willow nodded, a crimson blush staining her skin darkening with her unease.

"Are you telling me," he began, biting off each word with outraged precision, "that the Spirit of Nature is playing matchmaker?"

A clatter at the door caused them both jerk in surprise.  Angel spun towards the sound and dropped down into a fighting stance while Willow slid off the library table to the ground her hand reaching for the stake stuck in her back pocket.

Xander and Giles stopped when they saw Angel and Willow ready to fight.

"Deadboy." Xander's expression was closed, suspicion easy to hear in his flat voice.

"Xander." Giles said quietly in reproach, but the expression he turned to Angel was only slightly more hospitable.

Willow felt the sorrow she saw in Angel's eyes as if it was her own pain.  The damage and grief here ran deep in them all and there were some things she just couldn't fix.

Xander shifted impatiently from foot to foot, looking distrustfully between Willow and Angel.  "Wills, you ready to go?"

"I'm ready," she answered.  Turning to Angel, she added.  "Thank you Angel for keeping me company tonight."

Leaving Angel standing in the room, she walked over to Xander and out the door.  With every step she wanted to cry.

*****

Daylight.  The sun's rays were a sensuous warmth across her skin. This was her time as the night was his.  The deep blue sky above her gave her strength.  The gentle breeze bolstered her courage. The chirping of birds the joyous music of her march.  Twice before they'd met in the dark, during *his* time, when he was strongest.  This time she came to confront him during her time.

He would be surprised to see her.  She didn't doubt that.  He would expect her to wait for his coming.  To sit in her room and listen for the gentle rap of his fingers against the panes of her window.  Before she'd touched the Earth's magick, that was what she would have done . . . a frightened child waiting for someone else to make the decisions for her.  But the magick was a part of her now, as inseparable from her as Angel was inseparable from the demon.

*As it should be,* the Goddess whispered in chiming tones for her ears alone.

Should be.  Could be.  It was all so confusing and she was tired of feeling guilty for something beyond her control.  It was just one more consequence of living on the Hellmouth.  Logic said he was Buffy's, her heart said he could be hers and her body . . . she had only to close her eyes and the tactile memories of him loving her washed over her senses.

"No," she said, speaking aloud to give the word power, breaking the hold of the memories.  But even with the word still ringing in her ears, she knew that she could make it a yes.

Reaching the mansion, she stopped.  Courage was easy to find out in the sunlit street.  Here, standing before her lion's den, courage became a little harder to find and to hold.  Her doubts and fears rose up to test her now.  Had she given him enough time?  She'd given him four days to think, though she knew four days wasn't nearly enough.  She didn't think four months would be enough time to understand this mess she'd created.

"I'm the responsible one," she whispered to herself.  "I've come to fix what I've messed up.  I'll bind Angel to himself and let him go.  Responsible girl, that's me."

Now she had only to prove it one more time, even though the deepest, darkest part of her cried out in denial.  That part whispered to her that Angel was hers, she'd claimed him and he'd accepted her claim.  The civilized part of her fought that primal part, but even her denial couldn't prevent the memory of her vampire self whispering, "Wanna be bad?"  Banishing the memory, she clenched her hands into tight fists.  "No.  I am going to do the right thing."

Fists still clenched tight, she pushed open the heavy oak door.

She found him where she knew he'd be, his eyes cast to a fire that fought to warm a room empty of everything but stone.

Staring at his hunched back, Willow wondered how to start this conversation.  His broad back and bowed head gave her no clues to his emotional or mental state.  Did he hate her?  Did he blame her for ensnaring him in this?

Opening her mouth, she surprised herself with her words.  "You always have a fire going in here.  Do you seek to warm the room or warm yourself, Angel?"

He didn't turn around to answer her but kept his eyes on the dancing flames.  "I've wondered that myself sometimes.  There are times when I've felt very much like this room . . . hollow . . .empty. . . cold as death."

Both silent now, only the hisses and pops of the fire broke the quiet.  Willow wished that she could still hear the birds, needing their cheer now.

"Was the dream right?" he asked suddenly.  "Can you control the demon?  Control me?"

"Yes . . .No."  She sighed in exasperation.  How did one explain the unexplainable? "The dream was right . . . in a way.  It-It's not control really, but more like . . .” Willow paused, searching her mind mind for the right word.  “I guess dominion comes closest.  Life having dominion over unlife.”

At her words, Angel turned to face her, expression intent as he tried to understand what she was telling him.

Willow made a vague encompassing gesture with her hands, trying to come up with a way to convey a concept that because of her contact with the Goddess she now understood on a level deeper than any simple words could express.  “I've been touched, Angel.  Changed, if you will.  The Goddess . . . She is the cycle of life, of all things in harmony and balance."

Angel finally nodded his understanding.  "I break that cycle.  I am unlife . . .undead . . .vampire.  It's why it fears you and cowers down from your touch."

"Yes.  The knowledge is there, but like all of the Goddess' gifts, Angel, this one comes with a price."

His voice thick with tighly reined emotion, he said, "Name her price and I will pay it."

Willow felt tears prick her eyes at his words.  He didn't understand.  She would be the one to pay the price, not him.  But he wanted so badly to be free of his demon.  The sorrow in his eyes pierced her heart, and her soul cried out in anguish.  He'd been through so much.  Wasn't a hundred years in Hell enough penance for his crimes?

Looking into his troubled eyes, she found she could deny him nothing.  Yet her own responsibilities warred within her.  Where did her true loyalties lie?  What did she owe Angel?  What of her responsibilities to Buffy?  And what of her own wants?  When was it okay to take what she wanted?

*Could you love him truly, daughter?* came a voice of soothing calm.

She could not lie to that voice within her.  *Yes, Lady, I could love him truly.*

*Then your decision is made.*

Her thoughts spun.  Was it that easy?  It couldn’t be that easy.  She had to think.  She had to plan.  She had . .

Her thoughts were interrupted by gentle laughter.  *There is no easy or hard, daughter.  There is simply what is.*

And Willow understood.  There was no right or wrong, just her choosing.  *Yes, Lady.  I give him this gift.*

*So mote it be.*

With her Goddess' acceptance, Willow spoke aloud, a power beyond her own current abilities swirling up within her.  "Then let it be as I command," she sang with ringing tones.  "Life shall have dominion over unlife."  Then silently so Angel would not hear, she added.  'With my soul is the demon forever bound.'

With the words reverberating in her head, Willow felt a piece of herself be ripped away, the pain an aching void as the Goddess spun a piece of her soul out and bound it to the demon.  She would be his permanent collar, a forever watchdog that it could neither deny or escape.  That was to be the price paid, for with the binding came the demon's hungers.  Dark knowledge sang within her -- power, greed, desire, lust.

'Take him,' it whispered, 'control him, wrap him to your will.'  Insidious and seductive, the demon whispered to her now.  She forced herself to ignore the serpentine voice.  Angel was free, that was all that mattered.

She caught his eyes with her own.  "It is done."

His look of confusion almost caused her laugh.  His next words did make her chuckle gently.  "I don't feel any different."

Feeling the Goddess’ wisdom fill her, she answered, her tones overlaid with a hint of chimes.  "I can not change what you are, Angel.  You’re still a vampire.  The demon is still there.  Part of your penance is your struggle with that demon.  I can not alter that.  But it is bound now, with chains it can not break.”  Willow blinked, coming back to herself.    “Trust me, Angel, it is done."

Stepping back, she turned to go, only to be brought up short by his hand on her shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

"It's done.  I-I thought you would like to go see Buffy now."

"Willow, I loved Buffy from the moment I saw her,"  he said, old pain lacing his every word.  "She was everything I so desperately wanted to be . . . clean and good and pure.  I wanted that so much, an obsession of love as strong as Angelus' was of hate."

"Angel . ."  Now it was her turn to retreat, much like he'd done the night before.

Reaching out a hand, he captured her cheek in one palm before she could get away.  "Please, let me finish."

His eyes pleaded with her.  She nodded her head for him to continued.

When he did continue his voice was halting, as if he wasn't sure how to put his feelings into words.  "I couldn't . . . couldn't help loving Buffy.  It was doomed from the beginning . . .I know that.  I knew it then but I couldn't . . . couldn't stop.  And the more we loved each other, the more we hurt each other.  I can't give her what she deserves.  Because of what she is, she can't give me what I need.  Nothing in that has changed.  You said it yourself, I'm still a vampire.  She's still the Slayer.  Just because I can now touch her without losing my soul doesn't change the fact of what we are.  Can you understand, Willow?  I want her to have what little bit of a normal life she can.  I'm not part of that life."

Willow couldn’t help the amazement that colored her voice.  "So you would just walk away from her?"

He reached up to stroke her hair, winding his fingers around crimson strands.  "Don't make me out to be so noble.  Because in the end, I'm still the same selfish bastard I've always been."  He gave a small self-depreciating snort.  "I love her, Willow.  Part of me will always love her, but loving her hurts, and I am so very tired of hurting."

"That's not selfish, Angel.  That's self-preservation."

"No, I think selfish is a better word.  Because if I weren’t selfish, I’d walk away from you.  You ease the pain, Willow.  Your Goddess showed me that everything I ever wanted . . . everything I ever needed . . . I could find in you.  In truth, I barely know the real Willow Rosenburg, but the fleeting glimpses I've caught of her tell me that she would be a very easy person to love.  Will you let me love you, Willow?”

Willow felt her heart break at his words.  To ask if she could or would accept his love, as if it were something tainted, or unwanted, spoke of old wounds hurts.  She was beginning to understand just how lonely his existance had been up until now.  But at the same time, the very depth of his need frightened her.  She didn’t know if she was strong enough to be what he needed.

*Fear not, this one will give as much as he takes.  Balance in all things, child,* came the voice in her head, a voice filled with future promises and teasing half-glimpsed flashes of a future full of love and sorrow and laughter and a dozen other things that she’d never dared hope for herself.

But she was still afraid, afraid that he misunderstood what he was feeling.  Ties of duty and responsibility demanded she try to sway him to where she thought he should go.  Closing her heart to the possible future her Goddess showed her, Willow blinked up at Angel through tear filled eyes.  "Angel, what you're feeling isn't . . . ," she started.

He shook his head fiercely in denial and interrupted her before she could say the words.  "Don't tell me that what I feel isn't real.  Your Goddess opened my eyes to the possibilities.  It feels real, Willow.  I *want* it to be real."

He reached out to take one of her trembling hands, placing it on his chest, over where his heart would have beaten.  "Take my body, take my blood.”  His eyes bored into hers, “Will you take me, Willow?"

She panicked, unsure of what she was suppose to do.  Angel’s words had almost the cadence of ritual, and she didn’t know how to answer him.  In her confusion, help came from an unexpected source, Angel’s demon.

Flashes of memory and insight flooded her mind, much in the way that the Goddess’ knowledge came to her now, except where the Goddess of the kiss of sunlight, the demon’s knowledge was the feel of shattered glass scraped across raw nerves.  She began to understand a little better the price that she bore.  But it was knowledge she needed, so she endured the demon’s taunts and the inner wounds and pulled the knowledge that she needed from it.  And with that knowledge she understood, as never before, that even with his soul, Angel wasn’t a man.  What he asked of her was no mortal thing but vampire driven and instinctive.  He was offering her the ultimate gift he had to make, the gift of himself.

She had found within herself the courage to take on the burden of Angel’s demon.  Now the question was, did she have the courage to take Angel, and to take him in such a way as to satisfy both the human soul that longed for love, and the demon that would need to be shown her mastery.

The demon had to be first.  Already she could feel its strugglesd to free itself as it sensed the budding happiness that Angel kept such a tight rein on.  First, the demon needed to be taught a lesson, taught that the collar of her soul was a leash that it would never slip.

She flexed her hand upon Angel’s chest, feeling the planes of solid muscle beneath her palm and the strength within him.  Then with just the tips of her fingers she exerted a downward pressure.  Without a sound, he sank to his knees, obedience to her desire.

Raising her hand from his chest, she trailed her fingers up along his neck and into his hair, twisting the silky strands around her fingers.  He was trembling now, delicate shivers that ran through his body with her every touch.

Then she turned her touch hard, grasping at his hair and yanking his head to the side, exposing his throat to her.  Bringing her other hand up, she drug the edge of one fingernail down the length of his neck, scratching his skin and bringing up several small beads of his blood.

Bending forward, she brushed her lips across his ear and whispered for him and for the demon, “I claim you.”

With deliberate slowness, she licked the blood from Angel’s neck, thankful that with his eyes closed he couldn’t see her small grimace at the taste.  But her actions had the desired result.  As she pulled back, she noted that Angel’s features had already shifted to those of the vampire, and Willow knew that when he finally opened his eyes, they’d be yellow-gold.

Releasing him, she stepped back and snapped out in a voice of authority that made her wince inside, “Look at me, Angel.”

The touch of his eyes scorched her with their heat.  Under his steady gaze, she almost faltered and gave in to her doubts but firmed her resolve when she felt the demon’s surge of triumph.  Her gaze narrowed as her own pride was pricked.  The beast *would not* win.

“You are mine,” she repeated to him as she took a step backward, “I’ve claimed you . . .body, soul, and blood.”

Then turning on her heel, she walked away from his kneeling form only to step out of her shoes a few steps from him.  Taking another step she pulled her top over her head and let it fall to the floor.

“Come, Angel,” she called over her shoulder, “and bring my things with you.”

She didn’t turn around to see if he followed her, never heard movement behind her, but then Angel was a creature of shadows and no sound would betray his presence.  But she knew he followed her, knew that as each article of clothing was dropped, he stopped to pick it up.  This way she led him through the mansion to his room.  She stopped naked before his bed, before sheets as black as sin, their tangled lengths testament to fitful sleep and goddess sent dreams.

Gathering her courage one last time, she turned to find Angel as she knew he would be, kneeling behind her, her clothes piled before him.  Within, she heard the demon chuckle.  Arrogant beast.  Now its lesson would begin.

Stepping forward she reached out to thread her finger back through his hair again.  “I think it’s time I claimed what is mine.”

Angel needed no more encouragement than the soft pressure of her hand on the back of his head.

With the first touch of his lips, Willow wondered who would claim whom in this game of theirs.  She felt as if she was losing her mind.  This was nothing like the Beltane ceremony, nothing like the dream.  This was Angel . . . real, flesh and blood and desire before her, and she reveled in his touch.

She watched as Angel reached out and ran his hands lightly up the back of her legs, his touch gliding from ankle to knee to the tops of her thighs.  Taking firm hold of her thighs, his tongue darted out and began to trace a wet trail across her skin.  He started low and worked his way higher, placing teasing nips and slow licks against her skin.  Willow felt wanton and wild as she stood completely naked before a fully clothed Angel and he lavished her body with attentions that set the nerve endings of her sensitized skin tingling.

Willow bit back a groan as his tongue wound higher and closed her eyes against the sensation of his hands and tongue and the patterns he traced along the long, sweeping curve of her thigh.  Her head went back and she rose up on her toes, balanced against his firm grasp on her thighs, as his silken lips brushed teasingly against the sensitive backs of her knees.  As he gently bit the muscle there, she found her breath caught in her throat.  It took her a second to finally drag in a shuddering breath, only to lose it again as he shifted to her front and finally moved closer, edging his head between her slightly parted thighs.

Shifting one of his hands, he trailed his fingers through the softly curling hair at the junction of her legs, his touch light and tickling, tracing the line between her lips, never actually touching her skin, only teasing her with a phantom touch.

“Can I touch you?” was whispered against her hip, hope and longing making his voice thick with need.

There it was again, that almost plaintive desire for permission and acceptance.  Willow swore silently to herself that after this night he’d never again feel the need to ask her permission.

“You are mine, Angel,” she told him.  She remembered her words to the other Slayerettes about her problems with sharing.  She smiled mischievously then, though Angel couldn’t see it.  “Angel, I don’t play well with others and I *don’t* share my toys.”

That assurance was all he needed to brush his fingertips against her again, with a surer touch this time, exploring the delicate textures between heated flesh and silky hair.

Willow groaned aloud this time at the feel of him.  She felt him smile against her skin and then he dipped his head.  She felt the muscles of her stomach clench and flutter as she looked down her body at the crown of his dark head.  Resting her hand there, she stroked his hair and waited in shivery anticipation for his touch.

She wondered briefly if he thought to drive her insane, because he was doing a good job.

“Angel,” she murmured, pressing her fingers tighter against his head, letting him feel just the slight bite of her nails.

He answered her with a single pass of his rough tongue along the edge of her outer lips, nothing more than a tantalizing promise of things to come.  Then he waited, letting the tension build within before his tongue darted out again.  This time he penetrated deeper within, his tongue barely parting her.  Willow’s hips bucked forward of their own accord, demanding that he satisfy the desire building within her.  Deeper this time, his tongue finally brushing lightly against the hard nub that throbbed within her folds.  She hissed above him at the brief contact.

Angel nuzzled closer to her.  Taking a deep and deliberate breath he blew across her damp flesh, causing her to once again arch up on her toes in response.  Then that long, lush tongue was touching her again, with a vengeance this time.  The delicate touches giving way to bold sweeps and firm pressure.  Pushing inside, his tongue slipped in and out, leaving wet, burning trails behind that lit up her body with explosions of pleasure.

And still he edged closer, causing her to widen her stance to accommodate his body between her legs.  Willow could feel his muscled shoulders pressing against her legs, the brush of his short hair tickling her inner thighs.

With unerring accuracy he found her clit.  His tongue circled it with wet flicks, then slowed for a leisurely swirl.  Willow hummed her pleasure as he continued, his teeth closing in a gentle almost-bite, followed by another flick of that skillful tongue.  Angel closed his lips to suck briefly, then opened his mouth again to dart his tongue out for another swirling assault.

She realized she was moaning and tried to stop, biting her lip in a futile attempt to quiet the noises she was making.  A second gentle almost-bite proved just how hopeless her attempt at silence was.  She whimpered.

Her hips rocking beneath the onslaught of Angel’s teasing tongue, and pleasure curling in tight pinwheels in her belly, Willow tightened her hold on the vampire kneeling before her.

Feeling her knees buckling, Angel’s hands reached up, brushing along her sides and back down again, holding her steady against him. He was sucking gently on her clit now, his tongue flicking rapidly back and forth.  Willow felt a burning pulse begin as her thighs started to twitch.  She rolled her head back, welcoming the sizzling along her nerves that spread outward in her body from the place where Angel’s mouth met her hot body.

Right before she gave herself up, she whispered fiercely, “Mine.”  With that, she fell into pleasure.

She opened her eyes a few minutes later, her breath coming in short pants that were only now just slowing down.  She couldn’t help the goofy grin that spread across her face as she tilted her head down to look at Angel.  Goddess . . .  that was, she stifled a small giggled, quite possibly the most unWillow-like thing she’d ever done . . .and the best part was, she wasn’t finished.  It was the most amazing thing; it was like those old cartoons when a character had an angel and devil sitting on their shoulders.  That was what she felt like, balanced between her own soul and Angel’s demon.

And Willow could see that the demon was chafing at Angel’s passivity.  Angel himself wasn’t one to remain passive for long either.  Time to up the ante.

Raising one foot, she planted it firmly in Angel’s chest, knocking him onto his back.  Angel growled at her softly in response and then abruptly stopped as he realized what he was going.  Good, she thought, his control was loosening.   It was time to push him over the edge.  Only then could she prove to Angel that his soul was no longer in jeopardy and prove to the demon that she would allow no escape.

She grinned devilishly down at him and was rewarded with a darkening of his eyes.  Straddling him she lowered herself until she sat across his hips.  There was no mistaking his desire.

Willow traced the lines of his jaw, his mouth, then down his throat to his chest.  She snaked her hand along the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning each in rapid succession.  She ran her hands along his chest, following the shape of his muscles, across his chest and down the length of his stomach.

The breath he used for speaking hissed out between clenched teeth.

“You want to touch me, don’t you, Angel?” she asked, knowing his answer even before she’d asked the question.

When he didn’t answer, she ran her nails lightly across his chest.  “Does it bother you when I touch you, Angel?  Does it . . . distress you?”

“No,” he answered through she could hear the waver in his voice.

Willow shifted on his lap and felt his cock quiver in response to her movement.

“Good, because I wouldn’t want to distress you,” she said as she leaned down over him to run her tongue along his collarbone, feeling his body arch in response before he could control it.  She smiled then.  He was almost hers.  Just a little more.

“Why do you fight it?  You are mine.  I’ve tasted you , Angel and you’ve definitely . . .  tasted me.  Let it go now.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.  I can’t.  I can submit to you , Willow.  That I can control, but I can’t . .  no  . . .”

“Then you won’t claim me as I have claimed you?”

“No.”

She nodded her head sagely above him, her expression intent as she gazed down at his tense features.  “Stubborn vampire.  You have to trust me, Angel.  The demon can not free itself.”

“I can’t.”

Willow sighed softly in exasperation.  She was going to have to do this the hard way.  Licking the pad of one finger she brought it down to Angel’s flat nipple.  Swirling her finger around in ever tighter circles she said, “So, what you are saying, is that you’d rather be my toy, my . . . puppy, rather than my lover?”

“Y-Yes.”

She smiled at the stuttered word.  She was getting to him.

“So you don’t mind if I . .  play with you?”

“I am yours,” he said through gritted teeth.  Willow could almost see him steeling himself against her touch.

She leaned down and replaced her swirling finger with her tongue, using the pointed tip to flick his nipple until it stood it tight relief against his body.  She only stopped when she heard his quiet moan.  Then she chuckled.  Oh yeah, he was so very close.

Scooting down his body, she undid his pants with fingers that she was somewhat surprised to see didn’t shake in the least.  She pulled his pants down only enough to free his erection.  His own clothing would provide the feel of light bondage, limiting his movements and heightening his tension and his rising desire to take back control from her.  Soon.  Very soon.

Reaching back up to his chest, she drug her palms down his body, feeling his stomach muscles ripple beneath her fingers as she approached his rigid cock.

“Can I touch you, Angel?”  she pitched her voice soft and innocent; demon-bait.  Predictably she felt the demon stir, testing the weakening bonds Angel kept on it.

Angel didn’t answer her at all this time at all, but simply growled softly at her, his body as rigid as his cock, his eyes tightly closed against the battle waging within him.

She almost felt sorry for him then.  “Let it go, Angel.”

He simply shook his head fiercely, his eyes still closed.

In response to his steadfast refusal, Willow did the only thing she could do and turned her attentions once more to his body.  She ran her finger down the length of him, marveling at the textures beneath her touch; rough and smooth and hard and cool.  She continued her gentle teasing, driving him further and further from control.  “What does it feel like when I touch you ?  Does the heat of my touch excite you?  Does it make you think of hotter things?”

Angel was beyond answering, head thrown back, the low growl of before now a continuous rumble.

Willow placed her hands on his hips and ran her fingers down his sides and the back up the insides of his thighs until she could go no further.  Delicately she touched his sac and heard his growl deepen.  Cupped him gently in the palm of one hand she teased him with light, tickling touches of her fingertips.  Willow indulged her curiosity and explored his body, her fingers eventually curling around his cock.  Squeezing gently, she slid her hand up and down, experimenting with pressure and speed until she found a rhythm that caused Angel’s hips to match her strokes.

She spared a glance up at Angel’s face and found him watching her with the unblinking gaze of a lion.  Holding that hot gaze with her own, she released him, only to brush a single fingertip across the head of his cock.  Bringing her finger to her lips, she flicked her tongue out, tasting him.  At her actions, she felt another of Angel’s ties on the demon snap.

Leaning forward she ran her tongue along his length then opened her mouth to take in the broad head.  Angel moaned above her.  She swirled her tongue over him, tracing around the head then sucking it deeper into her mouth.  She withdrew briefly to lick and bite gently at the crown only to engulf him once again.  Angel’s hips were once again bucking up to meet her though from the jerky movements, she could tell that Angel was still desperately trying to control his body’s actions.  She couldn’t allow that.

She licked an erratic path down his shaft to his testicles.  Sucking first one and then the other into her mouth, she tongued them, sucking gently.  Enjoying the shudder that ran through his powerful body at her actions, she returned her attention to his cock and she slowly licked her way back up.

Angel was strung bow tight beneath her.  Now she would finish this.  Crawling up his body, she dropped hot kisses along his chest.  Reaching his throat, she nuzzled his head to side, exposing the long scratch that she’d made earlier.  Running her tongue along that wound, she impaled herself on his body in one smooth motion.

The shock of that contact stilled them both for one brief moment.

Part of his control finally snapped as his hands left his sides to clamp with painful intensity on her hips, holding her in place he drove up into her with a snarl.  Willow gasped at the feeling, and levered herself away from his chest, bracing her hands against his shoulders.  Tightening her thighs against him she fell into the rhythm he demanded of her, pumping her hips to help him push his shaft deeper into her body.

Driven by her own consuming desire and Angel’s, Willow ground her body against his.  She could feel Angel’s muscles shifting and bunching under her hands.  Gasping, she rode him, staring down at his handsome face marked by the presence of the demon within, watching the muscle in his jaw bunch and jump as he struggled to keep hold of his passion in a battle he was quickly losing.  Forced to keep her strokes short because of his hold on her, she rotated her hips and clenched her inner muscles, bringing him closer to the edge she wanted him to fall over.  An edge that she herself was quickly approaching as each flex and move they made brought her closer to her own pleasure, until her climax hovered just at the edge of her awareness, needing only one slight nudge to send her over.

She felt Angel’s grip on her shift.  Powerful fingers closed lower on her hips.  Lifting her higher he drove her downward in one brutally deep thrust.  That was all it took.

Beneath her, Angel let out a roar of release and she followed along with him, the pleasure bursting along her nerves until she slumped twitching against Angel’s chest.

Her own chest heaving to draw air into her lungs, Willow felt Angel stiffen beneath her as the last of his soul’s bindings fell away from the demon as Angel succumbed to the euphoria suffusing his body.

She heard the demon’s cry of triumph, felt mental claws reach upwards to rake Angel’s soul with pain.  She let it taste its freedom for a split second and then with a ruthlessness that would have made Angelus proud, she tightened her soul’s hold until the demon screamed in a soundless wail of denial and rage.  Turning its attack from Angel to Willow, it sought to break her hold, filling her mind with death and waves of terror and horror until she wanted to curl in on herself.

What stopped her was the man who lay beneath her, his arms draped loosely across her back.  The feel of his cool fingers tracing sinuously along her spine gave her the courage to hold on.  Slowly the demon subsided.  It wasn’t beaten.  She knew that.  It would try again and again to test her hold on it but the lesson had been learned.

“Willow?” His voice was hesitant and unsure.

She raised her head to stare down into a pair of wide brown eyes that glimmered with a joy and hope that she thought never to see in this man.

She grinned at him, sharing his emerging happiness.  “Hiya Angel.”

“I’m me.”  It was such a simple statement and yet it encompassed so much of Angel’s fear and insecurities.

Willow’s grin widened.  “Of course, you’re you.  You were expecting someone else?”

“I . .”

“Angel!  Did you doubt my magic?”

“I . . . I . .”  He looked away from her as he stumbled over the words, unwilling to hurt her feelings with his fears.

Her grin spread to a chuckle at seeing Angel so tongue-tied.  “Silly, Angel.  Your soul is yours.”

His eyes swung back to hers as he searched her face for the truth of her words.  “Truly?”

She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.  “Truly.”

He went still for a few seconds and then a grin to match hers spread across his face.  Sitting up, he let out a wild yell that sent Willow into a fit of giggles.  Struggling to his feet and keeping her tight against his body, he struggled to get them to the bed.

“Angel,” she laughed, “what are doing?”

Tossing her onto the bed, he preceded to strip out of his remaining clothes.  Standing naked before her, his cock already twitching to new life, he answered her with a sly grin.  “I’m about to make up for 80 years of missed happiness.”

*****

She awoke alone.  Seeing the empty bed, the rumpled sheet tossed carelessly back, she had a moment of complete panic as she remembered Buffy's horrified retelling of waking up alone the night Angelus returned.  That fear, however, was short lived as she felt the demon stir on the edge of her awareness.  Its oily presence was like a constant ache, a white noise that filled her consciousness with a stream of vile hate.   But she didn't regret her choice.  Not now.  Not ever.

Tightening her mental hold on the demon, she rose from the bed, wrapping the sheet around her body as she left the room.  Through the link with the demon, she had a vague sense of Angel, a hurt that drew her forward into the shadowed mansion.  Night had fallen while they'd slept and she glided through the moonlit corridors like a ghost on her bare feet.

It was the noise that first caught her attention.  A steady, rhythmic squeak and scuff that came from a far room.  She had only to follow that curious sound to find him.  Where she found him, surprised her.  He was seated in an old rocking chair, the steady creak of the rockers the sound that had lured her to him.  Even from the doorway in which she stood, she could see the torment on his face, the guilt and blame that he was so good at heaping on himself.  He’d let himself be happy for a moment, and she knew he was now heaping more blame upon himself for indulging himself, even if for a little while.

She made a small noise and Angel raised his head to meet her gaze.  He smiled gently as he caught sight of her.  That smile brightened his whole face.  But more importantly to her, it was a smile that reached his eyes.

Willow smiled shyly back at him and went to meet him as he held out a hand in her direction.  Angel pulled her into his lap and continued rocking, his pace soothing in its steady rhythm.

Curling against him, Willow waited; giving him the time he needed.  When he finally spoke, she'd almost drifted off to sleep again against his chest.

"I still can't stay."

So that was what he was worried about.  She should have known.  "I know," she answered calmly, hoping to allay his fears.

At her words, the rocker stopped.  Pushing herself away from him, she sat up and met his shocked gaze, fighting the urge to laugh at him.  He was so predictable sometimes.  "Angel," she began, "nothing has gotten easier.  In fact, it’s only gotten more complicated."

She snuggled back down against him and breathed a soft sigh of relief when the motion of the chair started again.

Threading his fingers through her auburn hair, he combed the fiery strands back so he could see her face.  "I want to stay."

She raised a hand to his lips to stop his words.  "Angel, I don't expect you to.  I don't want you to.  There are things you have to do for yourself.  Leaving Sunnydale is one of them."

His voice was a deep rumble under her ear as she leaned against his chest.  "Come with me."

Willow closed her eyes, savoring the feeling his plea evoked in her.  A second later, she opened them with a soft sigh.  "I can't leave yet, Angel, anymore than you can stay.   I play a part in Buffy's fight.  I'm needed here."

"*I* need you."

"You need to set yourself free first, Angel.  You need to stand on your own.  And I have things here that I still have to learn."

He looked like he wanted to argue with her, to convince her that they would both be better off far and away from Sunnydale and the Hellmouth, but 240 odd years of living imparts its own wisdom.  Angel finally nodded his head in agreement.  "Then we will both learn, and I will wait, for now."  Moving a long finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face up to his and added, "I won't wait long, Willow.  I'm still much more sinner than saint."

She smiled up at him then.  "When you come for me, Angel, I'll be ready."

Seeing the promise in her eyes, he bent down to place his own promise against her lips.  A simple kiss, gentle in its touch, but holding all the promises made between them this night.

Raising his head, he pulled her closer to him just to enjoy the warmth of her next to his skin, the softness of her body as she rested across his legs.

"You know, Willow, I haven't gone yet."

Willow shivered at the tone of his voice, hearing the change as it turned darker and deeper.  She jerked in surprise when she felt his strong hands settle on her waist, lifting and turning her in mid-air until she sat facing away from him, her back nestled snug against his chest.

Angel pulled the sheet she'd wrapped around herself away and dropped it to the floor while Willow shifted sinuously in his lap, rubbing herself against him with an abandon that he was only just beginning to realize was hidden deep inside the otherwise shy young woman.

Sliding strong fingers up the outside of her thighs, he kept his touch light, a tender caress that raised goosepimples  along her body.  A touch here, a whisper there, until her skin tingled and her breath caught in her throat at the sensation he created with just his fingertips.

Spreading his own legs beneath her, he shifted her again until her legs were draped over his.  Running his hands back up her sides, he lifted first one slim arm and then the other above her head, urging her to lock her hands behind her neck.  A position that left her stretched and exposed to him, vulnerable to his every touch.

Willow caught her breath as his fingers skimmed back across her body.  This was not the passive Angel of yesterday, afraid of the consequences of his own desires.  This was the Angel of the Goddess induced dreams, strong, demanding, and passionate.  Willow reveled in that small change in him as much as in the feelings he brought forth in her.

She felt she was melting as Angel’s hands trailed up along her waist.  His hands found her breasts.  Weighing their velvet heaviness in his hands, his fingers gently teased the rosy peaks to hard pebbles.  Willow threw back her head against his shoulder and moaned softly as she willingly gave herself up to him in much the same way he’d given himself to her earlier.

Angel licked and nibbled along her throat and shoulder while his hands continued to roam her open body.  Repeating her own words back to her, he asked in a husky whisper, “Do I distress you, Willow?”

“Yessss,” she hissed.

He chuckled softly, a sound that went right through her.

“Should I stop then?” he teased.

She managed to gasp out a shuddered ‘no’ as the fingers that had been tracing patterns over her body finally drifted down between her spread legs.  At his touch, her hands swung down to clamp against the arms of the rocker.

As Angel’s fingers continued to stroke her, Willow turned her head, blindly seeking Angel’s lips.  He gave her a small taste, his tongue slipping between her parted lips in mimicry to the slow and steady thrust of his fingers.  But the kiss soon changed as Angel moved along her jaw and down her throat, scattering damp kisses as he went.

Almost completely mesmerized by the steady slide of Angel’s fingers and the molten pleasure running through her veins, Willow only gradually became aware of the demanding weight of Angel’s arousal pressing against the cleft of her buttocks.  When she did notice, she used her arms braced against the chair to lift herself slightly, rubbing against his body.

She was rewarded for her efforts with a small growl and nip along her shoulder.  The feel of sharp teeth against her skin sent a shiver through her body.  Angel hadn’t bitten her before; his own fears making it seem to dangerous an act.  Through her hold on the demon, Willow could tell he wanted to bite her now though, wanted to sink his fangs into her shoulder and drink in her essence.

Rolling her head back again, she exposed her neck him, giving him that permission.

Angel took what was offered.  The very next time the chair rocked up, then down, he lifted her and slid into her, his cock burying itself deep within, his fangs piercing the fragile skin of her shoulder.

Pleasure warred with pain within her as Willow cried out loud at the double penetration.  Searing heat spread out from where Angel’s body joined hers, while heat of another kind spread from the place where his fangs were buried.  Somewhere in between, the two extremes met and melded to become something that she had no word for.

Groaning his own delight, Angel continued the steady movement of the chair, rocking himself deeper into her with each rhythmic rise and fall of the chair.

Whimpering unintelligible pleas for mercy, Willow urged him to go faster.  But he kept up his leisurely pace, stroking her inside and out, his fingers still caressing her flesh, his mouth sucking gently now at her blood until she was sobbing with pleasure.  Finally, he took pity on her.

Against the mark he’d made, he whispered, “Now, I claimed you.”

Tremors of release wracked her body and soul, leaving her limp in his arms.

Only then did he seek and take his own pleasure.  They continued to rock, Angel still nestled within her until Willow drifted off into exhausted slumber.  Only when she was deeply asleep did he halt the motion of the chair.  Lifting her in his arms like a child, he carried her back to the bed.  Climbing in behind her, he curled his body protectively around hers and followed her into sleep.
 

~End~

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