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               Willow grinned as she tilted her head back against the sleek maple booth.
               She really loved this club. It was classier than the teen dives back in
               Sunnydale. Good atmosphere. Appropriately loud music without the
               melodramatic angst. And a crowd that didn't ask too many questions...
               especially when a 16-year-old ordered drinks.

               It was really too bad this was her last night in San Francisco. She had
               really enjoyed her time there. Giles had sent her on a magick
               supply-shopping trip -  the fact that he trusted her with the task gave her
               more than a little smug sattisfaction. Unfortunately the special smudging
               blend he needed wasn't ready when she got there, turning her day trip into a
               three-day excursion.

               She had stayed at a moderately seedy hotel, explored the local club scene
               and even met quite a few powerful Wicca- all on her own. She was really
               proud of herself. She didn't need the Slayer around to wipe her nose for
               her, she was capable.

               She stifled a yawn. She checked her watch. 3:46 a.m. Time to turn in. She
               took one last sip of her Jack and Coke and picked up her jacket. She
               smoothed her long black skirt. She felt safe walking. Her hotel was only two
               blocks away.

               She walked out of the bar and turned the corner, unaware of the tall figure
               following her shadow. She could hear the faint echo of footsteps behind her.
               She turned.
 

               The street was empty. She chuckled at her own fear and turned back to her
               path. And ran smack into something cold, unmovable and dark-haired.

               She looked up into mocking chocolate eyes.

               "Angelus..."

               "Evening, little one," he grinned, bowing with a flourish. "Does the Slayer
               know you're out this late?"

               The mention of Buffy as her protector fired her irritation.

               "What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.

               "I heard you took a little road trip, thought maybe I'd check in, see if you
               wanted any company."

               "Well, I don't. so why don't you just fuck off?" she spat, regretting the
               words as soon as they left her mouth. WHAT IN THE HELL WAS SHE THINKING?!
               Mouthing off to Angelus? What was she nuts?

               Angelus grinned. He knew Willow had this kind of fire in her. He could smell
               her fear, her anger and just a touch of arousal coiling from her body in
               waves.

               He inhaled her scent deeply, dipping his face to her hair. He had been
               obsessing about the little red witch. since his soul went the way of the
               dodo. The poiuf had wanted her, too, though he couldn't admit it. Now he was
               free and all he wanted to do was test her fire. Feel the flame. No doubt
               about it, this was the woman for him.

               "Fuck off?" he chuckled. "Not very polite, Willow. But since you mentioned
              it, I was thinking more along the lines of fucking... you."

               Her jaw dropped. Two conflicting emotions ran through her. Indignation that
               he thought she would just fall at his feet and let him ravish her. And the
               desire to actually fall at his feet and let him ravish her.

               She parted her lips to protest but he claimed her mouth, his tongue sweeping
               hers.

               "Give in to me," he whispered against her neck.

               His hands wrapped around her waist, pushing her into an alley. She whimpered
               trying to push him away, but finding her fingers wrapped arund his collar
               instead. He back her against a wall.

               "Don't fight it," he grinned. "You're mine."

               Her head spun as his deft fingers gathered her skirt to her waist. Why the
               hell was she letting him do this to her? He bunched it at her hips and
               cupped her firm little ass in his hands. As if they had a will of their own,
               her legs wrapped around his waist. He grinned against her mouth, tugging at
               her bottom lip with his teeth. She moaned.

               "You always have been mine," he growled.

               Her thighs were coated from her soaking panties. Her scent was everywhere
               now, filling the alley, his head, the gaping gap where his soul once lived.
               He teased her sensitive skin with his thumb, wetting his fingers in her
               juices. He plunged into her roughly, she arched up against him accepting the
               probing flesh. He chuckled and withdrew from her.

               "Please, Angelus,' she gasped.

               "Oh, don't worry, love," he grinned, tugging on her arm and pulling her from
               the alley. "Tonight, I'm going to make you mine, just not here."
 

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