My Obsession

Author: Ms. of the Dark

E-mail: mistressofthedark@seductive.com

Sequel to: "In Her Eyes"

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: A(us)/Willow (Pretty exclusively A/W this time)

Summary: Angel gives in.

Disclaimer: I do not own Angel, Angelus, or Willow. I'd be happy if I did however, but I just borrowed them. Also, the song used is "Obsession" by...Animotion I believe and I don't own that either, it's just a nifty song.

Spoilers: Pretty much right up to...Pangs I think it is in S4 Buffy and prior to "I Will Remember You" in Angel S1 so that never happened. (It just made my plot too implausible.) And yes, I had to look that up.

Angel's point of view this time. Song lyrics enclosed between a long line of ~'s. I wonder if this is the longest songfic ever?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~ Shortly after the end of "In Her Eyes" ~

He thinks I don't know. He thinks I haven't realized just what exactly he wants me to do with Willow. He thinks that just because we're two separate entities who share the same body that I'm unaware of what he plots in that twisted demonic mind of his. But he's very wrong. I can spy on his thoughts if I want to, although I generally refrain from doing so. If I wasn't able to see his thoughts and memories in order to be tormented by them, the curse the gypsies cast would have been pretty ineffective. So not only can I look in on his thoughts and memories when I want to, but I'm also frequently subjected to them when I *don't* want to see them. He doesn't even notice when it transpires anymore, he's so accustomed to it happening.

It doesn't matter. The point is: I *know*. And now that I know, I can't get her out of my head. It used to be about Buffy, first and foremost. She was what was important. Her friends...they existed, but I didn't think too much about them or interact with them at all except in connection with Buffy. Buffy's friends were defined by the fact that they were friends with Buffy. They had no separate identity for me. Even when Angelus was in control after I slept with Buffy, her friends were still only objects, pawns in the real-life game of chess, to be used against Buffy in the most painful way possible.

Oh yes. I was there when Angelus was wreaking havoc on Sunnydale. You didn't know that, did you? The gypsy curse is a cruel, cruel thing. The soul placed within the body is permanently attached, only true and complete death will separate it from the body and the demon. What the clause in the curse changes is which identity is in charge of the body, much like one personality in an individual with multiple personality syndrome coming to the fore. Only the curse is much more inhumane than any simple human disorder. A person with multiple personalities has no knowledge of what the various personalities are doing, a sort of blessed amnesia that's nevertheless a double-edged sword. But the curse, the curse does not grant the mixed blessing of forgetfulness. I saw everything that Angelus did to torment people I cared about and could do absolutely nothing to prevent it. The place I am imprisoned in when the clause switched control is more restrictive than the one Angelus inhabits. I am not sure why this is so, perhaps because the demon is always necessary to keep the body animated and the soul is not. However, when I am imprisoned, I cannot even torment the demon with my words. I am rendered mute and helpless, unable to do anything other than reflect and watch in silence.

Angelus doesn't realize this, of course. He thinks that I fly off to Heaven or Hell, whichever is deemed appropriate for someone like me. He's mistaken. What happens is that I am imprisoned in a cage of the gypsies devising. It is a cage that is more incapacitating than the one Angelus inhabits, and the pain, which I felt and screamed out when the clause was activated, is the result of several things happening at once. My control over the body is ripped away from me, the demon is freed to resume control once more, and my soul is compressed so that it can be shoved into a tiny wooden box. The wood of the box has been soaked in holy water on all sides except the floor and these sides have been carved with many crosses for added torture. The interior of the box is filled with a thick gray mist which mutes all sounds to the point of nothingness. You wouldn't think that a soul would be bothered by holy water and crosses. Unfortunately that is not the case, as the body and mind shape the spirit just as much as the spirit shapes the body and mind. And after 100 years of having the body and mind react adversely to holy items, it was almost second nature for the spirit to do so as well. It was in this box of torment that I was confined while Angelus was free. Confined, that is, until Willow had successfully performed the gypsy curse used once before and reversed our positions until I was once more in control of the body Angelus and I share. Not that being in control again was a great thing seeing as how only a few minutes after I regained control, both Angelus and myself were thrown into Hell by Buffy thrusting a sword through our chest that shed the blood to close the portal created by Acathla, dragging us down into Hell with it as the portal closed.

I never thought that she'd be able to do it. Oh, I had a hard time believing that Buffy would cast me into Hell, but that's not what I'm referring to. I'm talking about Willow. In fact, I always seem to be talking about her, or thinking about her, or dreaming about her. There's just no escaping Willow now. She has gradually become my obsession. Recasting the gypsy curse and re-establishing my control over the body wasn't an ability that I would have ever in a million years have ascribed to Willow. But with that one act, she distinguished herself as unique to both myself and to the demon. She had done what very few people were able to achieve - she had bested the mighty Angelus, and had done so with her intelligence instead of physical prowess such as Buffy's. By calling such attention to herself, she unknowingly planted the seeds of desire and obsession. When I returned from Hell, I couldn't help but notice her. She was amazing. Not only had she conquered the demon, but she didn't hold Angelus' actions against me. She welcomed me back into the group almost immediately and displayed a compassion, wisdom, and purity that I found absolutely astonishing and utterly compelling. Over time, she has become not only Angelus' obsession but mine as well. The forgotten radio, still playing various songs from a decade I don't really have any memory of musically, begins a new song that seems to echo my thoughts perfectly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You are an obsession
I cannot sleep
I am your possession
Unopened at your feet
There's no balance
No equality
Be still I will not accept defeat
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's true you know. It's reached that point. Willow is my obsession and I both dread and long for sleep for it is then that the dream- mares begin. Dreams where she is mine coupled with simultaneous nightmares of what Angelus wants to do with and to her. I belong to her, she's the one who freed me from the cage I was in and she isn't even aware of this fact because I live somewhere she isn't and give myself to her. But I can't give in and go to her. Not if I want to remain in control and free. No matter how much I want to. I must continue to struggle against my desire for her. I mustn't succumb to them and accept defeat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I will have you
Yes, I will have you
I will find a way and I will have you
Like a butterfly
A wild butterfly
I will collect you and capture you
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I must be deluding myself. I simply can't hold out any longer. I *have* to have her. Giving up control to Angelus, the probable deaths of everyone I know well - Cordy, Doyle, Buffy, Giles, Xander..., helping others in need of aid, working for my redemption and paying penance for my misdeeds as both human and vampire, none of the possible consequences of Angelus' return or the good I'm doing now is enough to ultimately outweigh my need for Willow. I've decided. I'm giving in and I *will* have her. Now I just need to go capture her so that she will be mine for eternity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You are an obsession
You're my obsession
Who do you want me to be
To make you sleep with me
You are an obsession
You're my obsession
Who do you want me to be
To make you sleep with me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Decision made, I race to my car and begin the short drive to Sunnydale where the object of my obsession waits for me in ignorance of my coming. I change the station from the classical channel it has always been set to previously and find once more the station playing the song that speaks to my soul. For my precious Willow, I'll be whoever she wants, whoever she needs me to be in order for her to be happy. If she needs me to slip into her bed and pretend to be the wolf, then that's who I shall be. I know what he did to her, he put sadness into her eyes, and for that alone he deserves the worst tortures Angelus can devise. She gave him her love freely, the most precious thing in existence, and he threw it back in her face like it was nothing. In addition to that, he added insult to injury by not only cheating on her, but by leaving her without even allowing her the courtesy of trying to persuade him to stay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I feed you I drink you
My day and my night
I need you I need you
By sun or candlelight
You protest
You want to leave
Stay
Oh, there's no alternative
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More fool he. Now *I* shall be the one to possess her love: body and soul. And I shall guard that love so fiercely that he will never be able reclaim it. Willow preys on my mind. I *need* her with a desperation I've only experienced before as a fledgling Angelus in need of blood. She is my very existence. A ray of sunshine in the darkest night with the same danger of getting burned that normal sunlight carries, yet an irresistible attraction for that ray prevents my common sense from denying myself the light.

I arrive at Willow's house. She told me only yesterday before I left that she intended to stay there over the long weekend after having dinner with Buffy at her house for Thanksgiving. She said that since her parents were gone so often and with her living in the dorms, she thought that the break was a good time to go home (some home...a house is all it really was) and check on things. Make sure that no one had broken in, clean a bit, have some time to herself to cry where she wouldn't bother her friends with her problems, things like that. She hadn't actually said the part about moping and crying over the mutt in private, but I know that's what she has every intention of doing. I ring the bell impatiently, not even thinking of how late it must be. Time has lost much of its meaning between being a creature with the potential to live forever, being consumed with thoughts of Willow, and not possessing a watch.

When I see her open the door, I am suddenly made aware of how late it must be. She stands before me in a cute two-piece pajama set with...cats cavorting in various poses of various ages? I didn't know whether to cringe and wince at her taste in clothing or if my undead heart was beating faster because I was seeing her in clothing that wasn't intended for normal public viewing. The one thing I wished was that her pajamas were less-concealing. Although, by this point, I don't really need more salacious thoughts and images running through my head. There are already more than enough of *those* there already between Angelus and myself. The problem is that I have to have the ability to actually *speak* now and I'm not sure I can manage it. Especially since I need to be persuasive. I'm here and I don't know what to say now that I'm finally standing in front of my obsession.

Finally, I find my voice. "Can I come in?" She looks at me closely for a second before nodding and saying a nearly inaudible yes. I step inside and she closes the door behind me before gesturing for me to precede her into the living room. We both sit down across from each other; her in a chair and I on the couch.

"What's wrong," I ask. "You look like you've been crying. Has something happened?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your face appears again
I see the beauty there
But I see danger
Stranger beware
A circumstance
In your naked dreams
Your affection is not what it seems
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I look intently into her face as I wait for her answer. Her eyes are red and the tracks where the tears have spilled down her face are still clearly visible to my vampiric eyesight. God, she's so beautiful, even in her sorrow. Her lower lip begins to tremble and her eyes are beginning to take on the sheen of fresh tears only seconds away from being shed anew. She unexpectedly flings herself off of the chair and into my arms. Between sobs she gasped out her pain in broken words. I softly stroked her soft, silky red hair and murmured insensible words of comfort until she lay quiescent in my arms.

"Let me be whoever you need me to be tonight," I whisper seductively in her ear as I hold her close in a gesture which she thinks is only for comfort and which I take pure pleasure in. "Let me give you comfort and the ability to forget your troubles for one night and just simply *be*." She nods in silent agreement, apparently unwilling to break the spell my beguiling voice has woven.

I am elated. She agreed! I feel the demon within chuckling in anticipatory glee. We were finally going to get what we wanted and had captured our obsession, although I was the one in charge, not Angelus. I kissed her softly but with ever-growing passion as I gathered up my precious burden and headed up the stairs to her room. When I reached her room, I set her down in front of me and removed all of the clothes from her pliant form. Disrobing accomplished, I walked towards the bed with her in my arms once more and laid her luscious body down on the bed. I took a moment and gazed in rapture at the naked vision of loveliness before me and then I knew. It was finally time to begin my worship of the goddess on Earth that is Willow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My fantasy has turned to madness
And all my goodness
Has turned to badness
My need to possess you
Has consumed my soul
My life is trembling
I have no control
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I reach out to caress her and feel myself instantly harden in just the anticipation of touching her in an intimate manner. The pressure of my cock against the zipper of my slacks is a sweet pain that reminds me to keep a tight rein on my control. I *need* to possess her...now, yet I also have an intense need to worship her and put off that possession as long as possible.

I softly brush my fingers over her body, hearing her breathing quicken whenever my fingers run over a sensitive spot. These spots are carefully memorized as I go. I am unwilling to forget a single one of these places as my fantasy comes to life and my obsession is finally within my grasp. Soon, but not soon enough, my manhood will be tightly enclosed within *her* grasp. I resolve that it won't be until I've worshipped every inch of her body with my hands and tongue first.

I reach her head with my fingers at last. I brush back a stray strand of hair from her face and she smiles at me. I smile back and bend over her. My lips lightly caress her forehead as I begin the second stage of my Willow worship. I trail them down her features, kissing each one as I work my way down to the sweet, voluptuous, red lips of my beloved. I kiss her deeply, lingering on her lips for as long as humanly possible until she needs to breathe.

I pull back to let her breathe and can no longer resist. More of my skin *must* be touching hers as I worship my goddess. As I hastily unbutton my shirt, she watches each inch of skin revealed with a combination of voracious lust and tenderness in her eyes. Shirt discarded to the floor, I return to my beloved to begin anew my worship of her body with my lips and tongue.

My lips trail further down her supine form, stopping and lingering in several sensitive spots previously cataloged. The solitary freckle in the sea of white skin, the hollow space between her ribs, the side of her knee, the arch of her foot...each place is lovingly kissed, teased, and treasured. The feel of her skin against mine is fantastic beyond words and I move back up her body to the neglected hollow between her thighs to taste and tease the sweetest spot of all.

The red curls concealing the most intimate portion of Willow's body has to be one of the most beautiful sights I've seen in my quarter- millennium of existence on this planet. The scent emanating from her core is intoxicating. A combination of natural musk, spices, magic, and just the faintest hint of her blood, causes a growl to emerge from deep within my chest. I wonder if she tastes as good as she smells? Well, there's only one way to find out after all. I smile secretively as I bend to absorb myself fully in the task of tasting and pleasuring my Willow.

At the first taste of her juices on my tongue, an unintended and wholly heartfelt moan erupts from my lips, causing her to squeak in surprise at the unexpected sensation from the vibration. She doesn't taste as good as she smells...she tastes *better*. I must have more of her. My tongue gently plies her clit as I insert first one and then two of my large fingers into her tight opening in search of more of the seductive ambrosia she produces. I feel her thrash and writhe above where I have centered my concentration and her hands twine themselves through my hair. Her fingers suddenly clench and a long moan emits from her lips as she gives in to her orgasm.

The noises she makes as she climaxes drive my desires into a frenzy. My cock presses insistently at the zipper of my trousers, demanding its freedom and I am more than ready to give in and oblige it. I leave her shuddering with the last aftershocks of the pleasure I recently gave her in order to remove the last barrier between our bodies and the ultimate consummation of our love. I remove myself from my pants as carefully and as swiftly as I can and take an instant to look at my goddess. Willow still has a delicate flush suffusing her skin in addition to the glow and dazed look her release had given her features. She looks so beautiful. My manhood, free of constraint, hardens still further and points itself in the direction it wants to be. I acquiesce gladly to my needs and return to my beloved's bedside, crawling up the bed and up her body to be where I need to be most.

As I sink languidly into her warm depths, a feeling of overwhelming satisfaction pervades my being. Captured. But who has been captured and who is doing the capturing? It matters not at this point and all thoughts flee my brain as I begin moving within her at a slow and steady pace. Willow's breathing begins to quicken once more as my thrusts rebuild the tension in her body, taking her to higher heights than those from which she'd just returned.

After an indeterminate, dream-like period of slowly thrusting, I feel the urgency in the movements of Willow's hips being translated to my own. As her passion and mine near their pinnacle, our movements become faster and faster until it seems as if we are but a blur of motion. In the midst of this frantic coupling, one of my hands finds its way to her breast and twists the nipple somewhat harshly. This sudden sensation of pain/pleasure is all that is needed to make her soar once more and I find myself following her to completion with a shout that is closer to a roar. My climax rushes through me and the fact that I am here, now, shooting my seed within my own obsession, creates a feeling of perfect bliss as I collapse on top of her briefly before removing myself reluctantly from her heat and shifting to the side where she will be uncrushed and able to breathe freely.

A familiar searing pain runs through my body after that one perfect moment and I recall some of the final lines of the song played earlier that echoed my desires so well. My need to possess her has indeed consumed my soul. And now I have no control.

As my soul is torn from control once more and I begin again the painful process of being shoved inside the box, I am at a strange sort of peace. `It was worth it. I have had ' is my overriding thought. And the last thing I am acutely conscious of as the gray mist envelops me and the box closes around me is Angelus' joy at being unfettered and the two things he says that strike terror into my heart. "Free" and "She Is Mine At Last."

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