Taoig (Passion)

Feedback:  It would be very much appreciated because this is my first dabble in Buffy fanfiction.  I'm a bit worried actually so any comments, negative or positive would at least let me know someone read it.  K?

Disclaimer:  I do not own any of the Buffy Season Two characters, especially the excert from the Script: “Passion”, these characters and situations belong to WB (but since they lost the show i don’t think they’ll care much...).

Spoilers:  Season Two Spoilers, especially Passion but I'm guessing everyone's seen those eps anyway.

Notes:  Sorry about the latin and the gaelic and everything that I never studied and therefore suck at improvising.

Rating:  I'm going to be on the safe side for future parts and say NC-17, there's violence and naughty touching.  lol  So kiddies can not read and if they manage to they're in for a biology lesson...

Summary - retake on passion - when Angelus discovers the plot to recurse him, he immediately seeks about crushing all those involves in particular the slayer and her red headed friend.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 

~Part: 1~

Willow thumbed the base of the keyboard in front of her, glancing toward the door Jenny Calendar had disappeared through fifteen minutes ago to call Giles.  It was exciting news - the collaboration of their wiccan and gypsie intellects, with their computer skills had finally accomplished the only cause for redemption that Jenny could come up with.  She needed Buffy to forgive her, because Giles would always be foremost loyal to his slayer.  Staring back at Willow's anxious, excited and somewhat flushed face was the translated  restoration ritual, that Jenny planned on performing as soon as possible.  Every time Willow stared at the screen she felt a burst of nervous giggles quelling in the bottom of her throat.  She could imagine Buffy’s face filling with undeniable joy – Angel was going to come back.

The threatened laughter quickly transformed to a small shriek as she heard a crash in the hall.  Standing up quickly, Willow's muscles tensed, she played with her fuzzy yellow sweater while edging cautiously toward the door.  Her green eyes were wide, alert - listening intently to the silence.  Her ears strained until she could hear the slight buzz of electricity that came from the online computer, but there was nothing else.  An empty hall.  Looking out the small glass panel in Ms Calendar's room door, Willow rolled her eyes at her pitiful self.  All this time demon hunting and she was still scared of those strange noises schools made at night. Almost like she thought a monster was going to jump out of a closet and she had no bed to hide under.  She made herself feel better by acknowledging that this was no ordinary school...when things went bump, there was an above average chance that a bumpee lurking about. With a satisfied grin she remembered that her and Jenny were about to put a monster back inside his box, his closet where he could never go bump in the night again.

What was taking Jenny so long?  Willow rolled her eyes looking out the window again - perhaps [i] she[/i] should have called Giles and then the old people wouldn't be talking about other adult stuff that she really didn't want to picture.  Sighing in frustration, Willow let her hand graze the handle of the door so she could see more of the hall.  To her surprise it was locked.  She gripped it tighter and jiggled, grunting as she tugged harder.  The door shook on its hinges slightly but seemed to yawn with boredom and indifference toward her desperate jerking.

"What the...?  Hmpph."  Turning around determinedly she spotted the door at the back of the classroom.  She couldn’t believe Jenny had locked her in here so she wouldn’t disturb their private conversation.  Her eyes scanned the seats of the class room with an absent, otherwise occupied mind.  She stopped, her forehead crinkling – was someone in here?  Her eyes quickly flicked back to a silhouette sitting in the back chair where all the naughty students pretended to learn. She shrieked, her feet halted instantaneously while her body weight continued forward – she swayed and buckled, looking clumsy and flustered as she struggled to control the fear. When she retained her balance, she backed up, hitting the locked door behind her.

Though she couldn't see his face she knew without a doubt who he was.  Unmistakable, even in dying lights was his immortal angelic face – his chiseled, cold structure – his glowering shoulders.  She could feel her pulse in her ears, the way she sometimes could when her PE teacher made her run laps for dropping a basketball.  Completely silent she waited for his movement, wishing she could trace back time and not notice him – Angel liked to play with his victims first, he wasn’t impatient like Spike, he liked to know their fear. Thus, Angel was the type of Vampire who wouldn't bite her while she wasn't looking.  He was noble that way, Willow almost snorted.

"A-Angel..."  Subconsciously her hand grappled with the handle again, again it resisted.

"I think we've already established that the door is locked."  His lilting voice was tinged with sardonic amusement, a sinister chuckle rounding it off as he continued to slouch, uninhibited in his chair.  Willow felt a startling fear inside her, a sickening sensation that from her own mortal dread turned to another...Jenny.  She was tempted to ask what he'd done to her...but there was still the slight possibility he hadn’t found her.  She couldn't put her at risk like that...

"Uh...how'd you get in here?"  Willow tentatively asked trying to stretch the amount of time she had left, in the hopes that Jenny had already got through to Giles.  [i] Please God be alive...[/i]

"Didn't Angel always come here?  Never could keep track of soul boys boring existence...Besides, I was invited."  As Willow's forehead crinkled between her eyebrows, Angel leant forward, his tone changing to that of a sire patronizing his childe.  "The sign at the front of the school...romafia tran sicara eta catorum."  Willow didn't understand Latin at all, she clung to the door behind her, looking at him like he’d spoke in twisted gibberish.  Her head crooked to the side and slightly lowered, letting a raven coloured shawl of hair fall between her and Angel - she appeared to him like a puppy being brutalized by a larger dog.  " ‘Enter all ye who seek knowledge.’” He translated for her.  “What can I say?  I'm a knowledge seeker."  As he stood from his relaxed position, ease and confidence slouching his shoulders slightly into a sultry curl, he sashayed forward with slow easy steps.  Willow held down a horrified gasp as he made his way toward her, she did her best edging toward a corner to keep the same distance between them.  She looked quickly toward the door on the opposite side of the room, maybe if she just ran for it..."You'll never make it."

Willow jerked her head back to him, almost thinking she’d said that aloud. "A-angel I've got good news..."  She stuttered, "Jenny and I --"

"I heard!"  An excited smile spread across his face, his dark eyes flashing murderously.  He stepped forward again approaching the computer and turning the screen so he could see the spell.  Willow closed her eyes, knowing she was defeated - Angelus knew, there was no way he'd welcome his soul back with open arms.  "She went shopping at the local boogedy-boogedy store..."  A sneer fell across Angel's lips, quickly turning into a smirk as he recognized the glass orb, sitting in a case of silk in the middle of the table.  Willow's hand shot out instinctively to stop him touching it, pausing mid air as he took the intricate mystical token into his hand looking at it in mock appreciation.  "The orb of thessulah,"  he rested a finger on his lips, looking at Willow with dark amused eyes as he contemplated what he already knew, "If memory serves this is supposed to summon a persons soul from the ether and keep it..."  His lip curled as he stared into the orb, and it began glowing, Willow's eyes opened wide at the orbs reaction to the whimsical vampire, "until it can be restored."

The last words came out in a low sneer, vibrating with all his hatred, Willow cringed to think what would soon be inflicted on her and Jenny for even thinking they could curse him again.  Angelus had been confined by an asphyxiating conscience for a century - the fact that he was pissed off was a pretty easy conclusion to come to.  Looking up at her the darkness all dripped away, he was smiling widely, crudely like an old friend, "You know what I hate about these things?"   Willow shrugged and then shrieked as Angel hurled the glass orb into the wall behind her.  His laughter was loud and full of amusement as Willow whimpered, slouching as if she could make herself disappear, watching the tiny fragments of glass fall uselessly in a pile of waste on the school floor.  "They're so damn [i] fragile[/i]..."

Willow's eyes glazed over with helpless defeat.  Jenny had wanted so much to make Buffy forgive her blind mistake.  Willow had wanted so much to get Angel back, the Angel Buffy loved, and her sort-of friend.  Hearing him move again, Willow's neck stiffened, she couldn't look at him.  Couldn't look at him and know he'd smashed his last chance at regaining his soul without remorse.  Couldn't look at him and know she'd failed Buffy.  She'd failed [i] Jenny[/i] by not keeping watch like she was supposed to.  "Must be that shoddy Gypsy craftsmanship." He chuckled, frowning at the mess as if he regretted it. Lips shaking, Willow finally looked up at him, edging toward the other door, one tear escaped down her cheek.  She would die.  Angel smiled at her, he knew she was edging away - it didn't matter, there was no way on Earth she could out run him.  Still he was having fun making those tears appear one by one, so far his time had only served him up one lousy tear - but it had been well worth the wait.  She truly was an innocent, so fragile and helpless and yet somehow powerful.  Willful.  She reminded him of someone close to his dead heart, his lip curled at the thought.

Approaching the computer he opened his arm taking an unneeded breath just so he could exaggerate his sigh, "I never cease to be amazed how much the world has changed in just two and a half centuries - it's a mystery to me."  Angel rested his hands on the computer again, running them across it almost affectionately, "you put the secrets to restoring my soul in here,"  Angel  smiled as he tugged at the computer bringing it with a loud crash to the floor, where it broke, sparked and began to burn instantly.  Softening his tone he turned to the printer, where Jenny had run off a copy of the spell, "and it comes out here...."  He read over the first two lines and Willow walked quickly away, as silent as her human feet would allow her (not very silent), trying to leave Angelus to amuse himself - which he seemed so good at.  "The ritual of Restoration!"  He read off the sheet, chuckling slightly as she nervously stopped and looked at him.  Her shoulders rose tensely, her skin feeling stiff...if only she could make her skin impenetrable stone.  "Well this brings back memories."  He cooed holding the paper on its side and folding it,

"Wait!  That's your -- "  But it was too late, Angelus ripped the paper in half, placed the pieces on top of each other calmly and smiled at her, wide and toothy like Buffy's Angel never could.

"Argh..My cure?"  He pretended to grimace as he said it, and shook his head at her.  Tearing it in half again, a flickering smile lit up his dead face, full of immense satisfaction.  "No thanks.  Been there, done that - dejavu just isn't what it used to be."  Looking down at the fire slowly growing in the computer, he smiled casting his eyes to her for a moment.  "Well...isn't this my lucky day?  The computer,"  he said gesturing to the flames, "and the pages..." he dropped the pages softly into the fire, making sure they all caught alight before he let them go.  Just to show her he had all the time in the world, he warmed his cold hands on the same flame, bending slightly, attracted to the heat.  On some basic level he was just a moth.  Searching out heat, light, a flame any place he could get it but the sun.  Amusement was his greatest source, but Willow’s fear was lighting up like a Bunsen burner too.

"Looks like I get to kill two birds with one stone..." At the word kill Willow only just managed to hold down her fearful yelp, his head was bowed, studying the pages as they twisted and withered into tiny brown curls like broken autumn leaves.  Looking up she finally shrieked stumbling back on her feet, his true face grinned, a ravenous tongue licking across his elongated canines in hunger, "the hacker makes three..."  Turning without hesitation, she knew her time had run out.

She came to the door quickly, not hearing his footsteps behind her, her heartbeat thundered as she grasped the handle.  As she tugged he reached her grabbing her head viciously with an animalistic snarl and tugging back - she screamed but was cut off as he slammed her head forward again into the door.  The force pushed the door open and she fell to the ground, her head bleeding, swimming as the floor beneath her seemed to ripple, her legs flaccid and boneless.  But she staggered to her feet, glancing back to his smile only once before she took off at a desperate, clumsy sprint down the hall.

"Oh good...I need to work up an appetite first..."  He could smell her sweet hair on his hands, feel that soft flesh, pick up the faint blood that he had spilled when slamming her delicate form into the wall.  Hungrily his demon growled, happy there was no soul that forced down the hunger quickly filling him.  His tongue trailed his fangs and with a sinister smile he gave chase.

Willow wasn't a very good runner, she had no natural predatorial flow in her step, she stumbled often.  The school was dark, no lights were on, but the moon splintered through open windows, making pale light dance with consuming shadow - flicking silhouettes across her horrified face.  Every three steps she violently turned her head back, straining muscles to see that Angel was merely at a stride.  She was already panting.  He didn't need to breathe.

Up a flight of stairs and her quadriceps were screaming at her, but her adrenaline screamed something much louder - YOU'LL DIE! MOVE IT!!  Reaching a door she tugged and the door protested.  Looking behind her she saw him walking up the stairs, an easy natured smile gracing his face.  He was confident, cocky, he knew how easy he would catch her and he moved at a stroll.  But when she swung the door open he had begun to sprint causing her to scream as the adrenaline burst forth violently into her veins.  She slammed the door just in time for him to slam into it behind her.  He snarled but she was already running, cursing her pulse for humming so loud and tempting him.

The cleaner had left their trolley by the wall in the hall.  She ran toward it, knowing Angel had already swung the doors open and had stopped playing, he was hungry now and she could hear him growling, his footsteps loud into the tile.  Pushing on the trolley with all of her minuscule strength somewhat burgeoned by stress he growled like an injured lion, tumbling to the ground furiously.  But as she continued running, her feet yearning to collapse, her lungs tired, her fatigued body seeming to make her move in slow motion.

Suddenly she realised she couldn't hear him any more.

That was infinitely more unnerving.

Turning around she saw the bucket from inside the trolley, sliding on the ground with a gentle, scraping hum, a greyish liquid dispensing itself slowly, evenly over the floor.  Her eyes didn't dart around the hall, she didn't hesitate, turned away from the horrifying view and charged into the swinging doors of the library. The cage where Giles kept all his good weapons was open, but all she'd need was a stake and a cross if used correctly. She’d seen Buffy many times, all she had to do was keep him away from her. Heaving in breaths she charged into the open cage, not having time to think about why it was open.  She grabbed a large wooden crucifix and a small stake beside it.

Her muscles clenched as she heard a familiar sound behind her.  Chck, chck.  A safety being removed off a...tranquilizer.  Completely rigid, Willow turned gripping the crucifix close to her breast, her stake beside it.  Angel was perched nonchalantly on the library booth, his legs swinging joyfully in the air.  The tranquilizer gun they now used to sedate Oz was resting on his lap, he didn't seem too keen to use it.  Being that he was a predator, Willow didn’t much understand why he had it either.  Part of her believed he was hardly aware it was there.  He was staring at her, his chest completely still though hers still rose and fell roughly, jaggedly.  She closed her eyes trying to control her breathing as if just by gasping she was exposing a subliminal weakness.

"Is it just me or does one of us have a more effective weapon?"  There was whimsy in his voice but he raised his eyebrow at her, as posing a serious question.  Willow looked behind him into the office, the phone!  She felt like slapping her head, the phone, she could have made it to the phone.

"Y-You won't shoot me with that..."  Willow framed as evenly as she could.  She squared her shoulders trying to look brave, her resolved face slipping into her cheek crevices.  The only problem is she wasn't sure what she was resolved to do.  She hoped it didn't say - 'ok you're going to kill me let's get it over with.'

"Oh no?  Do elaborate I'm intrigued..."  Angel arched his hips sliding gracefully and slowly to his feet.  Willow swallowed as she watched his large, domineering form, begin to pace so softly he barely made a sound – or perhaps she was even hallucinating them.  She now realized how much better Angelus must be at disappearing than Angel, ‘doing that thing where he's gone’.  It was a [i] predatory[/i] skill.

"Well that would be unfun and well you're not the put-a-girl-to-sleep kinda evil...thing..."  Angels eyes scrutinized her for a second, almost intrigued by her babbling.  Some victims became silent, some pleaded, others screamed, and Willow babbled.  It was interesting.

"You're right, there are much better uses for a womans time..."  His eyes fell down her quickly yet thoroughly and Willow felt not only embarrassed but naked and a little flustered.  Looking down she blushed and held the cross away from her body.  He backed away slightly with a hiss, and chuckled as he saw the crucifix shaking quite clearly in her frazzled fingers.  He picked up the gun that was resting against the desk still.  "You think you could take me Willow Rosenburg?"  The suggestive tone of his voice as he played with the barrel made her tongue feel heavy, her cheeks suddenly matched her hair and she had to gage his prowl to try and guess his meaning.

"Yes..."  She resigned herself to saying, holding the stake high in her left hand.  With a sudden movement he swung his leg in a round kick, slapping the crucifix out of her fingers and shocking her enough to make her drop the stake.  She yelped and was about to kneel and pick it up again when she heard a slight whistle after the crack of the trigger firing.  Falling back into the cage she clutched at where the drugging bullet had hit her.  Staring up into the light above her, it slowly blurred into darkness while Angel's voice slurred, she was running out of batteries.

"Just to prove I can always take you."  The next time she blinked her eyes, she didn't even realise they never opened again.

~Part: 2~

**

Passion.
It lies in all of us...
Sleeping....waiting...
and though unwanted,
unbidden
it will stir, open its jaws...
....and howl.

**

Angelus had grown to appreciate clarity, substance, focus.  These ways in which only a vampire, stripped to the bone of morality can feel.  Nothing in humanity is so clear, so pure, so preternatural.  Must the meek make every choice, every detail, every loss so complicated and disastrous...

Of course, he mused approaching Buffy Summers window, he would be not nearly as exuberant in his triumph if his favourite mortals didn't act in such an obtuse way.  Buffy...he smiled as her telephone rang, his fingers gripping the bark of the tree in front of him in anticipation. Whichever piece of news was about to travel through the wire, would make his night worth etching in stone.  If it was Willow, she’d immediately suspect him, Willow’s mother, calling quite innocently to check if her daughter was there with her best friend and Buffy would lie because sweet Willow would never actually sneak out...she’d have to be stolen.  She’d lie because mothers should know that night creatures are after their family.  It’s just not, fair.  He pouted sadistically as his internal mocking caused a smile to break free on his face.  Poor Buffy...such a martyr...such a warrior.  No...no it wasn’t Willow...

His eyes zoned in on her face, not blurred by the transparent blinds that had been pulled across quite conveniently, letting him stare through inconsequent glass straight into her strained face, her dilated pupils.

Confusion.  That was on her face often, even over something that someone in her profession should accept at face value.  Death.  A common occurrence to any slayer, but I suppose death so close to her she'd never experienced.  Oh but she would...oh but she will again.  Buffy looked at Xander as she clutched at the phone, half pinning it to her ear, but Angel could read her better than any other creature, and he saw the longing in those watering irises to drop the phone and forget.  She had the tendency to do that when faced with an emotional crisis.  Curl up inside herself, put on the blinkers, and run from her duty.  'What?' He saw her choke out rather than heard her.  Sensing her distress her great white knight of a dork strided up behind her, snatching the phone before she collapsed with it.  Though Xander's shock was more boisterous, Angelus centered in on his lover, slowly sliding down the wall, curling her knees dumbly to her chest.

Oh that's right...weep at the final revelation.  A smile curved across his face as he recognised her first tears of mourning.  No more came.  No that's right, the guilt was too much, most of her felt she didn’t deserve tears, if she’d let death happen.  There was that martyr he loved to hurt.  He wondered for a moment if the ambiguous sadness she felt stemmed more from her guilt that her grudge had got Rupert's girlfriend killed, or the fact she was sad about the actual death.  Sad for Rupert’s mourning, or sad for her own?  No matter, one tear was good enough, he'd punctured her, he'd hit the target.  Drusilla's words ran in his ears, "Angel always knows what speaks to a girls heart"....Buffy’s heart he knew better than any of his other victims, all thanks to that horrid thing that had contaminated his body for a century.  For the first time he found himself grateful for his soul, he couldn’t have enjoyed her agony nearlly as much without knowing her weaknesses like that.  To kill this girl you have to love her.

Buffy had set herself up for her own unique torture treatment.  Like any other vampire, maiming and killing were high on his fortee, they filled an area of his palette, that being primal needed to be appeased.  But centuries of living with bloodlust had taught him to refine his palette until he was a gourmet, shelving each taste of death until blood curdled to just the right flavour.  Perhaps victory truly did have a taste inside blood, perhaps tears just made it sweeter.  He wasn’t sure.

Like all aspects of his life he walked a fine line, between pain and pleasure.  Pleasure for himself.  Pain for others.  Pain, being one of the more exquisite feelings he'd discovered over his many years, had many dimensions to it, stemming far beyond the physical.  Truly his greatest passion welled in his gut, his veins briefly flirted with the idea of pumping that dull, metallic liquid through his system for one quick burst of excited, triumphant, wolf calling.  But being dead inside he could only chuckle.

Xander was holding his head, his mouth opened, his eyes sharp with hatred.  Angelus shrugged, the boy was a sap and that hatred came more from jealousy...part of Angelus believed Xander had longed for his turning, longed for the true Angelus to emerge again so he could be that slouchy, boyish shoulder that Buffy needed to take advantage of her so she wouldn't feel so...mortal.

Xander hushed Ms Summers into the lounge room, saying Buffy just feels faint and other lies you could see straight through if you weren't living in denial.  A boy was stalking her daughter...a boy that was a [i] little[/i] older than her, who couldn't barge into her house because her daughter had a cross and said a little chant...who in their right mind is that superstitious? When did Joyce get out of a mental institution anyway?

When Xander reemerged pulling the crumpled slayer to her feet.  Angelus could almost stare into her eyes as she gazed over Xander's little shoulder, perfectly still they embraced.  It was beautiful to Angelus.  Those dead eyes, dulling a face that only showed signs of life when her lips occasionally quivered in an effort to hold her pain inside.  Perfect grief, the kind of grief that brings with it numbness, tears stunted by pure shock.  He knew she'd expected none of her friends would die, she'd get back her boyfriend and then a choir of angels would burst from the heavens and sprinkle pixie dust over the reunion.  Still so young...Buffy...still so very young.

There was a time she would have sensed him by now.  A time in the past when her gut would have experienced small pangs of either gushing-melting-angel-proximity or a simple vampire threat.  The chosen one, a pathetic and crumpled shell, like those body cavities they found in the ruins of Pompeii.  He hadn't even killed one of her closer friends...yet.

Whistling softly, storing those dead eyes away as stage one of breaking the stallion spirit of the bitch, he walked slowly away.  Into his territory, his town.  His past licked at his heels as he walked, a smirk framing that angelic face that had earned many naive peoples trust with simply a smile - there was a time when he used to take whole villages, slowly, stealthily – breaking off family by family until the entire village had a kurfew, nailing crosses and cloves of garlic to their doors.  They knew he was there and yet still they could not hold him at bay.  Hell, he’d taken his own family in such a fashion.

He frowned as he approached the factory lot, his reminiscing bringing him back to his favourite childe. It wasn’t Drusilla, his spirit was too weak, but Spike.  Spike had no class, but his skill as a killer were rarely surpassed.  He had bruttish tactics, loved whipping out the fangs, growling and starting a riot.  Being amongst all that none-too-subtle fear, sweat and blood.  Spike enjoyed an even fight, he got off on the thrill that he might lose - hence his obsession with slayers.  Now he was wheel chair bound, sliding around the floor...finally his outward appearance was reflecting what Angelus truly believed about his childe.  He loved being small, he hunted down people who could kill him if they were up for it, he danced...or rather rolled with death nipping at his heels...wheels.  It was kind of quaint and admirable in that foolish way that Spike had grown accustomed too.

Angelus was a little different.  It didn't matter whether the fight was against a worthy adversary, or a sweet, innocent plum like Drusilla - only one element mattered to spark his interest, his crave for the vile kill, the insatiable torture of the souls that now more than ever he wanted to destroy.  Passion.  Clear.  Pure.  Primal.  Passion.

When breaking something that's stirred from deep inside the gut, an explosion of his vampiric senses always ensued.  Sweet victory came attached to it, a natural aphrodisiac when a spirit is conquered.  The evolution and summit of unbridled passion.

**

It sleeps in us
guides us
passion rules us all
and we obey
what other choice do we have?

**

"Are you completely off your rocker?  We aren't going to have some crying little girl on our hands we're going to have one seriously brassed off slayer!"  Angelus chuckled, his feet dangling in an almost childlike manner off the dead conveyer belt as he knelt over Spike in the chair.

"Come now Spikey...daddy always knows best..."  Dru snarled at Angelus playfully, running her hands over the crippled Spike's chest.  Spike's blue eyes glared at the smirking vampire before him, his black eyes trained solely on the seductive vampiress rubbing herself against him.  It was all a game, he knew this, in the past he'd more than enjoyed Angelus's games, he'd bloody well admired the fiend - he had a certain pinnace for cruelty to the human spirit Spike had never seen before.  Perhaps it was his jealousy, knowing that Dru had never recovered from the loss of Angelus.  Now she had him back they had their own little game of seductive cat and mouse going on around him.  Her nails dug slightly into Spike’s chest and Angelus leaned back his lips twitching into a shadow of a lascivious smile as he watched her.  Dru tried to tilt Spike's had back for a kiss but he tore himself away, wheeling his rickety body closer to Angelus's merely so he wouldn't be some pawn in Dru's game to get her hands on the infamous King...pffft...or the wanker who thought he was the King.

"What is it Spike my boy, lacking performance below the waist...don't worry old friend...if there's anything I can do to alleviate your responsibilities during your weakened state...you just let me know..."  Angelus gripped Spike's hand with a mockingly twisted reassuring smile.  Spike's nostrils flared, sometimes he hated his sire...which of course is what made him love the bastard.  Black eyes shifted from Spike to Drusilla and Spike closed his eyes hearing his lover purr and sing like some little school girl having her first crush.

"Sod off!"  Spike tore his arm away from Angelus, flinching as he heard the old man's laughter - he was playing another game, a game Spike knew well, good old 'poke the pom', always a laugh that one.  “What I want to know, oh great and powerful Oz, is does the slayer know about the other bit?"  A wicked grin made Angelus's face darken and lighten at the same time, Spike marveled at his ability to wear his skin so well when his sire finally spoke.

"That's the best part...if she comes in here and stakes us all over her gypsy hack...she’ll still lose."  Spike made a grunt of disapproval and obvious discomfit, especially with his inability to fight at his prime at the moment.  Stakes?  Good grief...

"That's very reassuring peaches..."

"Well you know me..."  A low growl left Angelus's throat as Drusilla sauntered up to him.  Her eyes glittered as he stroked across her torso, in that sexually intimate way that made Spike's skin quiver with disgust even though he'd seen it for a century.  "I'd do anything to give you peace of mind my boy..."  Drusilla laughed, admiring the sire she’d mourned for, for a century.  As Angelus nipped gently and suggestively at her willingly exposed neck, Spike looked away.

"Yeah...you're a giver..."

**

"We have to find Giles..."  Buffy could bottle up her pain easily, she'd adapted to it, part of her had believed Angelus couldn't hurt her anymore...but so close to home....he'd picked the perfect target.  Now she not only felt sad, but ashamed and guilty because she couldn't forgive Jenny and stop her doing...whatever it was she was doing at the school at night.

Xander blinked at her, he wasn't yet acquainted with the ability to suppress pain, or hate.  He looked across at Cordelia who he'd called straight away and surprisingly he saw her struggling to hide it as well.  The smallest tinges of grief and shock filled her eyes, directly behind a misty glass panel of confidence.  He knew it was glass now...more vulnerable than flesh.    He offered his hand and she took it greedily, clasping it to her chest as Xander opened the car door for her, and they forwarded into line.

"Maybe he just wants to be alone, Buff...did you ever think that--"  Buffy shook her head at Xander over the car as an anxious Cordelia stared at Buffy's torso, wishing she could see her face, but knownig the determined I'm-the-queen look was probably in place.

"I don’t care about what he wants.  I'm afraid of what he's going to do."

"What?  Kill Angel?  So what?!  If that's what he's going to do than I say faster bunny kill, kill!"  A snort left Buffy's lips and she held up her hands as if warding off a tirade from Xander she'd heard so many times that she was on the verge of snapping if she heard it again.

"That's great Xander and I agree with you...I wish I'd killed him when I had the chance but...there's only one problem if Giles is all vengeance bound..."

"And what's that?"

"It's going to get him killed."  With that she opened the door of his car and slammed it shut.  Xander remained standing leaning on the hood, and staring at the space where the slayer had once stood.  He'd forgotten in his rage for a moment who Angelus was...or more importantly what he was now capable of since he was flying no frills, without one of those pesky souls lurking around as extra baggage.

After visiting Giles's house and almost bursting into tears five times at the horrid gift wrapping that Angelus left behind, she headed toward the library to get weapons.  Giles had already stripped his place of them, must have had something big planned.    The rose petals, la boheme, champagne, the notes.  Angelus really spared no expense for a couple more tears.  No wonder Giles was so insane with agony that he was putting himself in the type of danger he didn’t have the ability to filter through right now.  Buffy's jaw tightened, she wouldn't know what it took to drive a human that far, she wasn't in his business.  It seemed to her Angelus was the sort of twisted expert that her little stake just had to get to know.  If only she didn't see Angel's face every time she tried to make him acquainted with her good old wooden friend.

As they walked into the school, the quiet halls were darker than usual, their footsteps echoed and they took they time to notice, the old building made noises causing them to flinch and turn...Xander noticed Jenny's door open.  He clasped Buffy's shoulder, she tensed briefly as a reflex and didn't relax when Xander nodded with his head toward Jenny's room.  Buffy lowered the only stake she had and quietly walked toward the room.  Cordelia gripped Xander's hand tighter, she'd truly seemed devoid of words and actually compassionate - the world had really tipped on some sort of strange supernatural axis.  Only on the hellmouth could Cordelia be this sweet, even for a day.  Buffy's eyes trained on the computer, the flames behind the monitor still burning though starting to fade out.

"This is where it happened isn't it?  Oh God!  I’m going to be in therapy for a millennia!  He could like, just jump out of a closet right now and kill --" Cordelia was cut off by Buffy's broken whisper.

"No...that's not his style, he’s more likely to have a marching band and a tambourine announce his presence..."  No one laughed.  She hadn't meant it to be funny.  While Buffy circled the computer quickly, fidgeting,  she started to get restless, knowing that Giles was out their probably getting himself killed.  Xander gasped, jerking her from her anxiety into a whole new level of desperation...

"What is it?"  Buffy looked about her, trying to see where that @#%$ who wore her boyfriends face had suddenly appeared. But Xander simply let go of Cordelia's hand, approaching Jenny's abandoned desk slowly, his eyes full of indescribable pain.  Buffy lowered the stake again, confusion and an ominous itch in her chest registering as Xander bent down past Buffy's eyeline and emerged clutching a teddy bear backpack to his chest.  A tear rolled down his cheek as Buffy focused on the bears brown eyes, staring lifelessly back at her.  She dropped the stake, with ragged breaths and eyes chiseled in denial she glanced between her friends.

"No...NO!  Why would she be here?” Xander just shook his head, it didn’t matter.  They both prayed she’d merely left it behind and Jenny had found it meaning to return it.  They both instantly knew they were wrong.   “It’s too soon, I can’t take it...I can’t..."  She whispered and it was strangled, both her and Xander darted from the room toward the library leaving a stunned Cordelia trailing behind them.

"Hey!  Did I miss something?  So Miss Calendar has all the fashion sense of Willow in her ability to accessorize so whaaaa-oh...Willow!  Right behind you!"

**

Passion is the source of our finest moments
The Joy of Love, the clarity of hatred
And the ecstasy of grief.

**

“...But Spike, the bad teacher was going to restore Angel’s soul...”  Drusilla sulked, stroking her new puppy ‘Sunshine’s’ head and purring softly.

“What if she did?  If you ask me, I find myself preferring the old Buffy-whipped Angelus...”  Angelus looked up and met Spike’s blue eyes. His own were dark and loathing, but that small spark of humour that Angelus found in everything was irritatingly ever present.  “This new and improved one is not playing with a full sack.”

Angelus hopped from his perch on a rafter, standing over Spike and smiling, knowing Spike’s greatest weakness was his confidence around his sire.  He felt insufficient, small and now he was crippled, he was always put in his place with a simple snide remark.  It was almost too easy and Angelus was a little disappointed in his favourite childe.  He would have expected a good tussle by now in the old days.

“Don’t worry [i] roller boy[/i]...”  Spike looked away and Angel crowed with delight inside.  So easy.  “I’ve got everything under control.”

At that moment a bottle of alcohol flew through the air, smashing on the table near them.  While Drusilla clutched closer to Sunshine, wheeling Spike away from danger (much to his chagrin), Angelus merely laughed.  Knowing too well who had come.  Giles entered with a crossbow and a shoulder bag which he quickly dislodged.  Angelus’ laughter made his blood cold, Giles’ spirit was dead, he only saw those beautiful charcoal eyes of Jenny’s staring straight through him.  That haunting song was still ringing in his ears from when the champagne bottle had spilt across his staircase.  The crossbow aimed at the vampire master hitting him in the shoulder.

Giles didn’t pause as he gripped a piece of wood, setting the cotton garment rapped around its tip on fire as he strode toward Angelus.  Angelus didn’t even flinch as it hit his shoulder, he knew that look in the ‘ripper’s’ eyes, he knew what was crackling beneath his skin.  He didn’t want to stake Angelus, he wanted to beat him to a pulp...ahhh human desires, Angelus loved tearing them apart.  Snapping the arrow easily from his shoulder, Angelus stood to face him, only to be slapped and beaten three times over the face by the flaming torch.

“Geez...whatever happened to wooden stakes...”  He muttered, but the amusement in his voice was undeniable, he wasn’t afraid.  The torch snapped his head in the other direction and Dru made a move to save her lover.  Spike stopped her, just holding back a snarl.

“Uh-uh, no fair going into the ring unless he tags you first.”  So Dru remained standing still, watching through a barricade of flame as Angelus let Giles get all his anger out.  If he was still awash with that rash emotion when he finally jumped into the game, it wouldn’t nearlly be as fun.  He wanted to see that revelation in the watchers eyes...the moment he knew what a stupid mistake he’d made coming here.

Hitting the torch aside and punching Giles in the stomach, Angelus didn’t even flinch, laughing and continuing his attack until it was obvious who had the power.  Angelus gripped Giles by the throat, hoisting him above the ground.  He looked much older than Angelus remembered and still in reality...so very young. Giles gripped weakly at Angel’s strong, irremovable hand, gasping, his eyes rolling.  It was curious...the need for breath. Such a telling weakness...mortality.

“Alright, you’ve had your fun, but you know what it’s time for now?”  Before Angelus even noticed her, Buffy had charged into the room, swing kicking him.  Shocked, Angelus dropped Giles’s unconscious body to the ground, rolling across the floor to look into the face of his lover.

“My fun!”  She hissed, charging at him.  He merely laughed, knowing it was too soon for them to meet and a victor to emerge.  Still, he had to get away from her first.  Spike and Dru had already made it outside.  Running off pure rage, knowing she’d only made it just in time to save Giles, her fists had a new uninhibited fervor hitting Angelus that they’d never had.  She could distinguish them now, she could look at Angelus and hardly recognise the face that she’d kissed so hard it left her breathless.

Angelus made a charge for the catwalk above them, but Buffy grabbed his foot, tripping him over.  He laughed and shook his leg but she wouldn’t let go, then again she wasn’t on the staircase so he wasn’t particularly worried.

“Where is she?!”  Buffy snarled and Angelus laughed enjoying that anger, that pain, that only doubled when she absorbed his mirth.  Kicking her violently away he charged up the stairs.  But now she had him, she wasn’t letting him go, part of her was grateful to Giles for being so rash.  She was so charged with fear and confusion that she would have exploded if she couldn’t beat his arrogant face in.  Running up some crates and jumping the hand rail of the catwalk, she landed in front of him.  He never broke stride, joining her in a fight that she knew wasn’t his best.  His arms barely slapped her, too busy trying to choke his amusement to bother trying to kill her.  Maybe that wasn’t his plan at all, maybe he wanted to kill everyone [i] but[/i] her.  She’d truly be alone...no! The thought made a violent grunt burst from her throat as she grabbed a ceiling raft and swung her legs into his chest, sending him flying down into the catwalk.  She ran to him straddling him before he could stand, holding his collar, so he could feel every bruise all the more as she brought her fist into his face.  Over and over again she punched him, he didn’t move, only kept looking directly into her face without remorse, it was a strange sort of submission.  The kind that was not, she realised with a slight blush.  He was showing how little fear he really had for her.  He was letting her do this, he was letting her dominate the fight because he knew where Willow was and he knew she wouldn’t kill him.

“Where is she you son of bitch!?”  She held her fist cocked in the air and Angelus just tilted his head, running his tongue over the back of his teeth as he perused her.

“Oh come on, don’t stop now, you were just starting to get worked up...”  After the suggestive snarl she punched him twice more, again holding her fist and pinning him with her glare.

“Where?”  She framed more calmly and he feigned ignorance.  “Willow!  Where is she?  I swear to God if you’ve killed her then–”

“What makes you think she doesn’t want to be with me?”  The soft whisper caught Buffy by surprise and she simply stared at him for a moment, the amusement twisting his features, the provocative curl of his lip.  She knew true hatred at that moment, she’d killed so many vampires but she’d only ever hated this one...and [i] his[/i] family.  He’d taught them all so well...bastard!  She snapped out of it, hitting him so hard that he was starting to regret letting her get him in this position without much of a fight, so he chuckled gripping her fist tightly to her obvious surprise and pulling it away from him.  She lost her center of balance and stumbled slightly over him, enough for him to hiss words down at her, showing her just how much control he really had over the situation...

“Are you going to let your old man just burn?”  Her face was inches from his as Buffy looked to where Giles’ body lay crumpled in the middle of the dirty factory floor.  She’d almost let him die, Angelus had been content to let her take the responsibility for killing him until he got sick of the battering.  The flames were all around him, climbing and spreading and he wasn’t moving a muscle.  Angelus smelled her fear double in on itself and he sat forward, gripping her waist and flinging her over the edge of the catwalk, smiling as he ran away.  She landed easily on her feet, seeming to forget that her worst enemy and greatest love was striding for freedom, striding away with her best friend under his arm, up his sleeve...somewhere.

“Giles!”  She slapped him gently, enough to rouse him into assisting her to get him to stand.  She clutched close to him, her body trembling as she realised what she might have lost.  All the quick, passionate, rash thoughts that had driven Giles here, and her to for once enjoy beating Angelus up were suddenly doused by reality.  Giles struggled against her, she grunted a couple of times, determined to help her injured watcher but he shoved her more determinedly away.

“Why did you come here?!  This wasn’t your fight!”  Buffy’s mouth twisted as Giles spat the words at her, stumbling either because of overwhelming grief or injury.  Buffy didn’t care, sense hadn’t obviously hit him yet.  She swung her arm back, hitting him cleanly across the face.  He crumbled to the ground and finally Buffy let the tears fall that she swore she could keep at bay until she’d killed him.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?”  Collapsing next to him, she noticed his mouth twisting, his eyes squeezing shut as streaks of tears began to punch their way through his closed lids, spilling down his cheeks.  His wails were soft, but his face was reddening she could see his pain everywhere, she could feel it bursting inside her, wrapping its arms around her until she was there with him.  And she was.  “You can’t leave me...”  She sobbed, “I can’t do this alone.”  Her eyes opened as his arms wrapped around her, clutching her like a life line, she gazed next to them as fire burst through the windows high above them.  She barely felt the glass fall, if it fell around them at all.  She only realised that she was getting closer to that unbearable loneliness.  Jenny Calendar was gone, she’d almost lost Giles and Willow...Giles sobbed beside her ear and she held him tighter.  He didn’t know, and she couldn’t bring herself to tell him.

So she just helped him to Xander’s car, hoping she’d soon wake up from this nightmare and Willow would laugh at her screaming body tussling with white cotton sheets.  ‘Silly Buffy it was only a dream, only a dream’.  So as she sat Giles down in the back seat beside her and he pulled away to gaze deadly into the void outside the window, Buffy prayed that she could wake up.

But she didn’t.

**

It hurts sometimes more than we can bare
If we could live without passion
Maybe we’d know some kind of peace...

**

Willow woke up with a yelp, flashes of Angelus and his hideous true face flashing across her eyelids until she had to swallow the bile rising in her throat.  The threatened scream died quickly, choking in her throat.  At first she took a breath of relief – she was alive, it was only a dream.  Then she heard the intentional cough and her eyes finally absorbed where she was.  She gasped, not recognising the crimson bedspread beneath her fingers.  Her wide eyes darted up to the door, where a splinter of light from the hall was stretching through the ajar door.  He stood there, watching her.  Her heart rate jumped, doubled and raced, she couldn’t keep up with it and for a moment she clutched at her chest.  He could hear her pulse, she vaguely mused as his eyes darkened momentarily, following her hand to the material above her breast.  She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, waited for him to speak and dreaded it.

“Good to see you’re awake...I was beginning to worry,” was all he said, staring at her for long moments of extreme discomfit, before he turned in silence and exited.  Worry?  She’d seen the corner of his mouth turn up when the word slid smoothly off his tongue.  He was worried alright, worried his newest toy would break before he got sick of it.

Without that small splinter of light from the crack in the door, this alien room she found herself in was plunged into complete darkness.  She swallowed on nothing but her tongue, wishing he’d come back...

At least then she’d know what to expect, right now she was just dangling...on the end of a hook.  She almost whispered it as she realised...live bait.  That’s all she was.

She exhaled a shaken breath, pulling trembling knees to her chest.  She couldn’t hear crickets, cars, or anything of normal life.  She couldn’t even hear stealth-boy himself (a trait she’d once found rather cool about him) moving about wherever they were.  “Buffy...”  She whispered, hoping the wind would carry her voice across Sunnydale...no, no.  She just needed to vocalise the word she’d come to see synonymous with hope.

**

But we would be hollow.

Empty rooms, shuttered and dank.
Without passion...
We’d be truly dead.

**

~Part: 3~

Hands roamed her pale skin.  Flesh cooling down and heating up simultaneously, if such a tango of temperature could ever exist.  These were the haunts of caresses, almost memories, tender and dark...trembling with suppression.  A sigh escaped her mouth, a purr as she arched her body closer to that caress, large hands trailing down her torso, briefly cupping her breast and then falling away. “Please...”  The choked whisper left her mouth.  She knew she’d barely spoken, but it was all too loud, like she could hear herself shouting in another place, another world.  She bit her lower lip to hold all noises inside.  Scraping fingers clutching into her hips, dragging down her arching thighs...so lightly. Her eyes flickered back and forth beneath their lids but she knew if she opened them there'd only be darkness, she wouldn't see him. The whole world was midnight around him.  His touch was cold but he always made her feel so unbearably h....

Cold.

Limbs suddenly stiff her eyelids struggled to open, the darkness suddenly filled with intruders, an onslaught of memories that killed all pleasure.  Soft caresses felt like rusting nails, pressing too close, too fast, too hard.  A loud growl, fangs, yellow eyes so cold that flickered back to dark charcoal, haunting predatory and familiar.

"Angel!"  She lurched wide awake, gripping the bed beneath her.  A sigh escaped her as she could focus on the bedside table...that didn’t belong to her.  With a sigh the nightmare was really only just beginning in the waking hours, she was glad that she could see for once.  Why wouldn’t she be able to?  Kidnapped.  Darkness.  She stiffened.  She searched out the source of light, looked at her shadow falling her on the wall, but the source of light was behind her.  Dare she look?  Looking beneath her she finally realised she was naked her skin trembling, shifting involuntary against the crimson rose petals beneath her.  What was this?

"I wouldn't move if I were you..."  There was no humour in the voice this time and the shock of his presence was enough to make her roll over in fear.  Her eyes locked on him instantly, just so she could know where he was.  Self consciously her hands covered her breasts, her eyes darting around the room as she curled herself up near the head of the bed.  In a corner by the door, he sat completely at ease in his leather chair. The light was coming not from an ajar door this time, but from a small light on a table beside him. His right leg was hitched up, folded comfortably over his left, on top of which rested a sketch board.  She'd never been naked in front of a man before...ok well technically he wasn't a man...and dammit Willow you should be glad he hasn't snapped your neck...no, oh god, no neck snapping...stay positive, I want to hear that good-old Willow optimism...

Willow grimaced at herself, ‘dammit willow you're even babbling while you think’.

He was completely still his pointer finger resting over his lips thoughtfully as he surveyed her.  Her chest rising and falling even as she desperately tried to hide it behind her folded legs.  When he moved to stand, resting his sketch pad delicately on the floor – she gasped, lunging back loudly into the headboard.  He looked back up at her and chuckled slightly, he hadn't even done anything yet.

"Now why'd you have to do that?  It took me hours to get the curve of your spine to cradle the light..." He sighed with exaggeration stalking up until he was on the opposite side of the bed, his slight distance doing nothing to lessen his ability to tower over her.  Willow was horrified for a moment as she remembered that blank dream - half waking, half asleep she'd felt cold, skillful hands driving her body crazy...he'd been undressing her!  She blushed furiously.  It hadn't been a dream.  Sheer horror clogged her throat.

"I did warn you.  Youth these days...never consider the consequences of their actions."  She moved her leg slightly and it was enough to trigger him.  A growl came loudly from his mouth as his true face came forward, lunging for her before her shocked gasp had even made the bolt past her lip.  Gripping her roughly by the shoulders he pulled her to his chest, the ridges of his vampire face rubbing against her shaking forehead as she trembled  He was staring at her, forcing her to meet his yellow gaze.  Almost telling her to put down all her former opinions about Angel...this wasn't Angel.  The low growl continued, she held back a squeal as she felt his grip tighten ever so slowly around her upper arms.  She bit down on her cheek inside her mouth and looked away.  With another snarl he flipped her over onto her stomach.  Kneeling beside her bed he petted her red hair, his misleading beautiful features sliding back into place, that smile still there.

"Stay...."  He whispered, standing slowly and gazing down at her sleek back, her tiny human body only just sixteen, just ripening.  A soft peach he now knew no one would ever taste.  So sad to die a virgin, he sighed, it was almost a shame but so it was.  Can't expect everyone to find their f*ck buddy in their short meaningless lives.  His fingers traced the line of her spine, ever so gently, gauging her reaction to it.  As he suspected she rose slightly off the petals then stiffened and remained so until his hand fell away.  Typical virginal reaction.  It feels good, please stroke me, wait no I've never done this before, what if someone finds out?  Does this make me a slut?  Get away from me!  Get away from me!  Ahhhh...he chuckled.

Walking back over to his chair he shook his head, it was a shame she was so predictable.  Looking at her charcoal lines in his picture, he frowned.  He’d tried to etch her with sexual familiarity, what he'd used with Buffy and Drusilla when he'd hunted them.  Naked.  Completely exposed.  Through a sketch they could see themselves through his eyes...or at least how he wanted them to think he saw them.  But Willow...he hadn’t seen where she lived, that small place where her truly primal urgings circled waiting for release.  He’d felt it with Buffy, inside her, felt her puncture his soul with the violence of her release.  They call it the id, or the kundalini, the true self, that inner ‘darkness’ we all possess.  He’d driven Drusilla so insane that she always outside herself, he’d turned her inside out and now she lived that way.  She’d never be normal again.  As he continued to study his work he knew what was missing, ecstasy, knowing how she released it.  You don’t know someone until you’ve tore them open, bled them, felt them shake in the final moments of life.  He grinned. Until you’ve been inside their skin...

Glancing back up at her, she was biting her fingers, hiding herself from him as best she could.  Her hair was wrong, falling into her face.  He walked back up to her and without even looking at her properly he brushed the errant red locks behind her ear.  She sniffled and he looked down at her seeing a tear dribbling off the side of her nose, dampening his sheets and spoiling the eroticism of her pose.  Kneeling he continued to stroke her hair again and Willow felt something stirring in her gut so rare and powerful she was caught completely by surprise.  She felt [i] violent[/i].  She wanted him away from her so bad, that the stress was winding in on itself like an elastic just ready to snap her fist into his chin.

"...So small...so helpless...would you feel better if I brought your mother hear so you could suckle on her breast?  I mean you're not far past that stage are you...so young, younger than your age really...I wonder if that's why Xander never saw you..."  Willow's jaw tightened and she stared at the edge of the pillow case, crumpled and curling to the side.

"The more you say, the happier I am knowing you'll be dead soon,"  She whispered and almost smiled in glee - I actually said what I wanted to say!  Oh @#%$...I actually said...her eyes wide in fright looked across to his slightly stunned and almost too thrilled expression.  He'd found some sort of buried treasure beneath the surface...real verve.  Fire.  That sort of tranquil passion always found in the quiet times, flames that with the right type of fuel erupt into an inferno. Bring on the gas can!

"I'm already dead, Willow.  I'd ask if you wanted to join the club but I know you're not really into new experiences.  Besides I don’t think you really want her to dust me...”  Willow laughed at him indignantly and his smile spread wide, lasciviously. “No...you were trying to give me my soul, because you don’t want her to kill me, I wonder why that is....”

“That’s not true!  It’s Angel that I–”

“You're not afraid of me, huh?”  His smile left and suddenly Willow’s toes felt cold, blood retreating to her brain.  “...are you sure?"  Willow really didn't want to answer that as she saw his eyes flash yellow for a moment.  Uh-oh....Never losing her eyes his hand trailed down her arm for a moment gripping her wrist tight and jerking her hand close to his face.  She yelped slightly but recognised a challenge when she saw it.  If he wanted her dead she'd already be dead so she was pretty safe, he wouldn't kill her.  Maybe he'd beat her half to death and torture her but...she gulped, desperately trying to hide her fear.  Her eyes wanted to close against death so badly, but she forced them open to the point she wouldn't even let them blink, for fear they'd stage a mutiny and stay shut.  "Really?" He ran his lips along the pulse line of her wrist.  She knew that if she said yes, he’d stop.  He knew she wouldn’t.

Her mouth opened in a gasp, seeing his vampire face slide into his features smoothly.  She thought she was doing a pretty good job of hiding fear, but he knew.  He'd known all along, this was just a challenge to see how long she'd hide it before she screamed.  His lips were still so tender and he kissed her fingers for a moment, sliding his tongue between the small digits than flicking it out to dampen the skin just above her veins.  Her eyes rolled momentarily, the movement of his tongue slick and yet slow like he knew where all her nerve endings met in a thrumming cluster.  She jerked the wrist slightly, pulling away from any pleasure he might torment her with.  His grip tightened and he sank his fangs into her wrist.  Finally she tore her eyes away from him, gasping as pain shot up her arm, the feeling of sharp laceration mixed with his numbing cold tongue lapping against her.  The pain twisted around, tightening, she'd felt it once before up her arm when she'd had a chest infection - she'd had such fright she thought she was having a heart attack.  She could feel her pulse in her own chest as it hammered and he gleefully suckled her, feeling it against his tongue, thrumming pleasantly over his compressed lips.  Unbridled pleasure shot through him in a wave of virginal fire.

"Stop..."  He didn't.  Her breath became ragged with fear as she watched his yellow eyes close, his nails digging into the soft skin of her underarm as he held her tight.  Her taste was exquisite, so young and without impurities, biological and in the sense of her innocence.  So [i] pure[/i]...a hot ring of fire laced around his mouth, spilling over his desperate tongue and he wanted to moan at the taste, liquid perfection - "STOP!! PLEASE! PLEASE!"  Her desperate cries snapped him out of it, she was screaming, desperately trying to pull away.  He shook his head, he hadn't lost control to his blood lust in a long time, and that was close.  He released her, slipping back into his human visage, not a drip of blood betraying the monster he was on his face.  He licked his lips lightly, her body having thrown itself almost off the bed with inertia as he released her.  She went to slink away, cradle her wrist and shake but one look to his eyes hushed her movement.  He wasn't inching toward his chair, he wasn't looking anywhere but at her...expectantly.  Ashamed of her own weakness, she submitted, crawling obediently back to the position he had her in previously.  He brushed that same stray hair away from her face again and walked back to his chair, dropping down with a sigh that seemed to say 'and the next order of business is'.  Yeah he'd proven his point.  Damn him.

Willow closed her eyes for a moment, focusing all her energy into the pretense of composure.  She felt his eyes licking up her image, devouring her.  Two hundred fifty years of sexual experience sizing her up as pitiful, weak, childish, boyish!  He'd probably seen many naked women...who [i] cares[/i]?  Why do I care if he likes what he sees?  She cursed her irrational insecurities, she was just shy, and her natural longings to please were again interfering with what’s right and that other alien term – sense!  That's what she always felt with Angel though, childish.   Somehow with Angelus, he seemed to age another hundred years and she was a toddler.  Maybe it was because he was more licentious, more into boasting of his conquests...more homicidal.  Even though Angel had lived 100 years with his soul before coming to Sunnydale, there was little known about those lonely years, and she pictured his demon as the one with the wealth of experience and the big 250 plus next to his name, not Angel.  To her...Angel was human...sort of.    Sad and haunted by visions centuries old but semi-human...damn twisted hellmouth!

Angelus was playful, playful in the way of a bull terrier with a baby as its favorite chew toy. Even though Angelus could laugh and relax...he seemed much older than his brooding counterpart.  Instead of years of pain, he had years of experience.  He had perfected his arts, his allurements, he had perfected despair. All of Angel's talents, in fighting, his knowledge of demonology and history had not come from Angel but from Angelus.  Now he was focused solely on her, with revenge curdling his dead blood.  Her lines taking form on the paper in front of him as he searched her for particularly sore weak spots, that he could twist until she begged for mercy.  Willow took a deep breath and exhaled, wondering if they even knew she was gone yet...

Angelus on the other hand was barely seeing Willow as she mulled his every particular over.  His mind was focused on more agreeable matters, like the slayers shocked face when she saw this sketch.  Willow was like a bowl of fruit, he formed no real conclusions either way - he didn't find her ugly, or small or beautiful - she was a mass of molecules, a subject, space filled up.  He didn't pay much attention even as he drew, and her form became beautiful.  The hollow in the center of her back above her spine, captured the dim light perfectly and he exaggerated it - one small hand was drawn elegantly, shaded by the cover of her face as she gripped the petals beneath her.  Those dark silken petals hugged her body, welcomed her, climbed through the cracks of her tense fingers.  But her face he changed dramatically, gone were the tense and tight lines and in their place a small smile that the Mona Lisa would envy for its mystery.  He'd seen her smile like that once at Xander, in those early days when he'd observed every friend of Buffy's - testing their strengths.  The girls attachment to Xander was obvious, a small smile, the tucking of soft red locks behind her ear, nervous...One of those quaint little American stereotypes that made him want to rip out Marsha Brady's lungs.  Giggling.  Schoolgirl.  Crush.  He almost groaned at how pathetic it all seemed.  Being a creature without thought to anothers real happiness he could hardly empathize with her not simply taking what she wanted.  But holding back...it was all weakness.

His first thoughts of her brought him out of his linear phase, he saw her small form, laying perfectly still - a true artists subject.  She could be obedient it seemed, but he could hear her heart.  That loud thumping had settled, if you could call a jagged fast pace rhythm 'settled'.  But what he'd felt against his lips...that had been fear, he could taste the adrenaline in her blood, he was high off it.  He wondered if she'd ever been that scared before.  His mind traced back all those weeks, when he’d first come for her, for all of them.  She was the first of Buffy's friend he'd come across, gripping her neck and pulling her small body back against him.  He could have snapped her in half, could have broken her neck right there and Buffy would probably have fought but would be too weakened with tears for her to kill him there.  The fight following would have been the type of battle he couldn't be arrogant about, the passion from the slayer would have been...brutal beauty.  He would have felt like Spike if he'd killed Willow, he would have created the perfect slayer, made himself her favourite target, engaged himself in a battle he could lose as easily as he could win.  The thought made him excited.

But he had felt Willow's pulse, his hands were large, almost cleanly wrapped around that soft delicate flesh,  "A-angel?"  She'd whispered and for a moment he'd met those large green eyes, not yet terrified because his return would have hardly been at the foremost of her mind, more confusion as to why he was acting so "out of character".  Angelus smiled slightly as he blew shards of flaking charcoal off the piece of paper and started sketching again.

Tearing his eyes away from falling into her own weaknesses, he'd ignored the hypnotic pulse beneath his fingertips, that was until Willow discovered the truth.  'You're not Angel anymore, Are you?'  He could barely feel her pulse than as her arteries threatened to burst and spare him the thrill of the kill.  Her pulse was too fast to count, he could feel...just the warmth spreading down his arm as her neck heated up, her blood rushing so fast he felt like he was warm all over.  That intoxicating fear, no he couldn't break her neck.  He wanted her blood in his mouth for as long as he could savor it...live and pumping and full of those drugs that came from beneath her trembling skin...

The soft slide of charcoal and dead fingers smudging for texture brought an almost comforting lull into her world.  He never spoke which was disconcerting but hardly surprising, she didn't really want to hear what would come from his mouth - it would hardly be nice.  When the brushing stopped Willow noticeably tensed, but remained perfectly still, she was sort of glad that he didn't spread her across the bed like some cheap pornographic prostitute, legs wide, back down...exposed.  It was quite an artistic pose really.  She scoffed at that thought...was she supposed to thank him for that?  For taking advantage of her in a nice way?  For not being as degrading as she knew he could be?  For holding something back?  Or for stretching the torture out thinly and evenly, slowly deepening the scars so she barely noticed their imprint.  She always equated slow and dull with more meaningful pain, a spoon stabbing into taut skin would hurt far more than a single thrust of a sword - blunt pain.  Was this blunt?  Would he slowly twist her until she didn't notice the slow trickle of blood from already closed wounds.  She shook her head trying to reestablish some semblance of sanity.  He stood without looking at her, striding toward the door and quickly she sat up, darting under one of the covers since he obviously didn't need her to 'stay still' any more.  Her eyes using the light of the door swung over the large room to search for her clothes.

"Did I tell you, you could sleep under the covers?"  He didn't even turn, just kept his hand on the door knob, his head high, shoulders relaxed.  He didn't want her scent there, everywhere.

"You took my clothes..."  She pulled the blanket closer to her, continually trying to wrap it further around her lower torso.  He turned slowly, cold eyes catching hers and pinning her with a stab of fear.  She couldn’t' even swallow, instantly looking down.

"You didn't seem to mind when I was taking them..."  His head crooked to the side and she didn't bow her head far enough for him to miss the blush.  He smiled, more evidence of that tasty blood still pumping, he'd almost miss her warmth after he killed her...almost.

"I was dreaming about Oz..."  She said quickly, but he didn’t really care either way.

"If I gave you your clothes, let you sleep in my bed you'd get comfortable.  Don't you think it's a little beneath me to be that cruel?"  Willow looked down her blush deepening, this was...his...bed.  Not her cell?  His bed!

"Uh-I um usually equate being the prisoner of a psycho in the non-comfortable category but ok you're the one with the fangs...sure."  He ignored her almost completely, like her voice was a small breeze in the background.

"It's cruel...To let you believe you'll live through this even for a moment...if I was a decent vampire I would have chained you to a wall tortured you for a couple of unbelievably long hours and snapped your neck.  Don't get like Buffy and start thinking that somewhere inside me I still remember what I was...I [i] did[/i] remember what I was once, and thankfully I'm what I was again.  All those years Angel longed to be me again, he even went back to Darla for a while but she kicked him out ofcourse...he wasn't me but he [i] wanted[/i] to be.  He was just waiting...[i] I[/i] was just waiting...Well listen to me my not-yet-ripened-waif, I don't want to be Angel, I don't want you to lie back and relax while I @#%$ save the world.  Don't mistake me for the character I played..."  Willow wasn't looking at him, just running her fingers over the creases in the bed spread.  "Look at me."  Willow looked at him from beneath her lashes, she couldn't tilt her head up, wanted some sort of distance from direct eye contact. Clutching the bed spread tighter she tried to regulate her breathing.  "Do you want to see it?"

Her forehead furrowed and without knowing it she opened her eyes completely and looked up at him in confusion.  He dangled the piece of paper in front of her like a carrot on a stick, and she took the bait, watching it swing back and forth.  She wanted to see what she looked like in a living mirror.  Angelus may not be able to see himself but through those dark eyes she feared would be the filter to reflect back at her what until then she could imagine only she, herself saw.  Bony, worthless, little boyish girl, all hard angles and plain features.  Well that was his punishment, he wanted to strip her, humiliate her and then threaten to kill her - the jerk deserved to see her naked forever...wait let me rephrase that..."Nope."

He walked closer to her, standing in such close proximity that she had to stare at his abandoned leather chair in front of her, or rather through it so she wouldn't edge away from the leather clad thighs that brushed her shoulder at first by accident.  He nudged her naked arm with his leg, relishing her cringe as her shoulder arched up toward her head and she turned to look at the opposite wall completely away from him.  He grabbed her head, surprisingly gently, turning it inquisitively, his charcoal eyes darting back and forward across hers as if his vampire sight could read her soul scrolled in small ball point across her iris.  "Yes....you don't know what you are to men, a flower that would sooner shrivel up in the harsh sun than see herself blossom."  Willow's eyes narrowed slightly and she tried to pull away, he sensed there wasn't much effort behind it.  He stroked her chin softly with his thumb, small circles, brushing, she stayed completely still swaying slightly, swearing his iris rotated like one of those comic spiral lines.  Hypnosis...hypnosis...touch.

He didn't ask a question but she nodded, yes she could almost picture it, flashes of charcoal and smudges over yellowing paper taunted her.  Why did she want it so much?  Want.  Need.  Yes.   "You need to know if your reflection truly is that sickening pale thing, that ugliness...."  He smiled slightly seeing her pale, she clutched the bed sheets tighter.  She searched his eyes, wanting her reflection there to mirror his drawing so she could scan it.  But she saw nothing, vampires don't reflect, maybe they don't even reflect their victims.  Maybe his drawing was simply lines and not her.  "I guess it's too bad I only draw for my lovers than isn't it?  Why don't you come back in another ten years when your just about to enter Guinness as the oldest virgin...then I'll think about f*cking the frigid out of you.  How's that?"  Her lip quivered momentarily, her eyes dampening with tears at how horrible he could be.

She turned her green eyes blazing to find he had bent down over his knees without her knowing, she bumped noses with him as her head furiously swung.  He didn't move back at all, she was a little intimidated by their proximity, her discomfit heightening to an almost unbearable peak.  His eyes locked on hers, not glistening at all, but black and empty.  There had been no sexual invite in his words, just cold taunting, finding her weakness and punching it until it pulsed with a fresh bruise.  A long exhaled breath fell across her lips, she was gathering her strength to spit out the only comeback she could think of.

"Oh-uh and I'm the uh childish immature one?  Because I don't kill people...Because I-I don't go around...being...well you know...doing stuff..."  She blushed slightly but shook her head to hide it, "with every guy." No wonder she’s a virgin with this confidence, Angelus mused with a small smirk.  "Well look who's talking Mr-two-hundred-years-plus-and-still-playing-kiddy-games!  Spike is ten times the vampire you'll ever be!  I mean you don't even do anything, you just boast and say spiteful things well Cordelia could do that you know a-and much better...th-there's even a we-hate-Cordelia fan club bet you don't have one of those, huh?...If you were such a big bad meanie then I'd be d...I mean...yeah...ok this sounded a lot better rehearsed in my head but what I'm trying to say is I was more scared around Angel than I am around you!"  His smile widened until she wondered how such a beautiful and usually rare grin could be so ugly.  No wonder Angel never smiled, too many memories of that cruel, wide grin.  Devilishly handsome but faultlessly malicious, perhaps Angel had feared that his cheeks were so used to that position that they'd simply fall back into old patterns if he ever grinned.

"[i] Kiddy[/i] games?  I'm sorry you're having so much fun...I'll try to behave more...appropriately in the future."  His hand stretched out over her curled up legs under the blanket and she slid away from him, inadvertently giving him room to bring down the other arm, trailing his body over hers as she backed away. A low growl was coming from him, only perceptible because as the prey to his predator her senses were on high alert.  Her bottom lip trembled as he prowled after her, finally gripping her upper shoulders and holding her hovering above the mattress when she tried to slink further back still.  She shrieked at his tight grip, squirming against his immovable body.  Pushing her back down into the mattress, his hands moved too swift for her to fight back and clamped down on her throat.  Her eyes opened wide as he squeezed.

It wasn't like in the movies, how they gagged and clawed at their captors arm for long moments struggling.  Even if it had been she knew she wouldn't have overpowered him.  With his legs clamping her terrified hips in place, it only took a horrible three seconds for his smiling face to become a blur of strangled colours before falling into darkness.  He hadn't tried to strangle her, he'd clamped down on her arteries and veins, preventing blood flow.  She was out.

When she was unconscious Angel laid his body over hers, cupping her face briefly and running his nails over her cheeks harshly.  He didn't draw blood, but the stretched lines of hatred remained in place, and as he stared at the harsh pink fading he realised it may have been admiration.  Annoyingly she'd sparked some interest in him and he longed to see what she was like inside...what her heart would look like in his hand.  He could hear the slow, strained pulse of her jugular - he'd almost held on too long, he'd been so tempted.  No.  Her death would be too near Jenny's, he wanted to keep the slayer on her toes, he wanted a new pleasure besides death.  If you shot someone twice in the same attack, both wounds healed at the same time.  He wanted to let the slayer heal before he reopened that wound, making the scar permanent.  Again and again.  A long drawn out sigh of victory.

Letting her limp head fall to the left he listened to her heartbeat for awhile, lowering his fangs to graze lightly over that vulnerable skin.  She was wide open to him, but no...he pulled away, sliding off her limp form and slinging her over his shoulder roughly.  When he bit her she would be wide awake so he could hear if she screamed or not.  That would be pleasurable, or maybe she'd be the type to cry, or maybe she'd zone out and let her spirit die long before she was only a shell.

What would she do if he just devoured her without holding back any of his blood lust?  His groin tightened at the thought, he rarely had a real vile kill any more.  His real violent lust fulfilled...

He could barely wait.

**

~Part: 4~

[i]She couldn't make out who they were. She never saw the whole picture.  What concealed the rest, she didn’t know – was it shadow? some swinging light? Was it tears over her eyes?

She simply knew who they were though, somewhere in her bones.  Familiarity.

It was <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->[i]her[/i]</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> favourite shirt.  It was [i]his[/i] hands, the hands that had comforted her, his crazy Hawaiian shirt.  It was [i]her[/i] tell-tale blonde hair, her perfect lips.  It was [i]her[/i] expertly designed outfit, Gucci shoes, Prada skirt.  It was [i]his[/i] broken guitar, his black painted nails.  It was [i]his[/i] spectacles, the prescription glass shattered.

It was [i]all[/i] of them, and they weren't moving.

She could see her feet beneath her, turning on her flats, as her eyes flicked over the still bodies.  They all looked at peace, as if a great war was finally over.  The only blood she saw was rather a crimson light over everything.  It didn't horrify her but brought a peace.  It was over for them.  She was alone and somehow she knew in a sickening sensation that it would never be over for her so sweetly fast.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist, not pulling her close to the body behind her but rather notifying her limply that he was there. Gently tracing her hips, those hands were almost comforting and she struggled to tie her heart to their silence instead of his mockery of emotion.

They faded around her - the faceless that she knew only in her gut - the lights around her dimming as she turned around in his arms.  His hands moved from her hips tracing the lines of her palms, her life lines, her death...

"I could erase one of these..."  He whispered and she looked up at him, focusing on his chin, how it turned gracefully and joined to his cheeks, so pale, like soft powder.  Unable to resist, her hands moved from his to tentatively trace the lines of his face.  He purred slightly, but didn't move.

"You can erase everything...even memory..."  She said and she felt the pain that was squeezing her heart, begin to weaken, until she felt its presence in her chest but it was no longer a material part of her.  Her breath hitched as her hands reached his ears, then the soft hair behind, lacing around the back of his head.  She was exploring and he was purring, he leant forward, not slowly, or fast but naturally - steadily.  She had plenty of time to turn her head away but not enough to think about why she would want to.  As he bent his head, she rose or rather floated to meet him halfway. Cold lips easily opened hers.  She could no longer move her hands, movement had to be singular around him.  Precise.  So only her lips moved back against his, pressing sweetly, than more urgently.

She pleaded with him to help her forget.

His hands traced her spine and she felt his urgency too, his grip was tight but not fierce and he made noises of want, small grunts against her lips.  His tongue was cool but expert and she sighed, straddling his leg so they were rubbing against each other.  She could feel him as everything dimmed out and it was a dream of feeling and nothing else...and nothing.  She felt him give in to what he was, the ridges on his face slowly appearing, his fangs elongating.  She tasted the blood in her mouth and knew it was her own but still she pushed harder feeling release growing inside her as his hands tore at her shirt.

Her naked back arched into his touch and she felt that sweet fire from his mouth withdraw and smolder down her throat, waiting for the oxygen it needed to burst into flame.  He released her lips with a pleasurable growl and nibbled softly toward her neck where he plunged his canines in without hesitation. A gasp was torn from her lips and her mouth stayed open, wide and questioning at the pleasure quickly exploding through her.  The gasp triggered a burst inside her, sending that fire roaring past his lips at her throat, to her mouth where it erupted in a scream of ecstasy.

No names.  No praises to deities.  Just a guttural roar.  She too felt the release her friends had experienced.[/i]

"NOOO!!"  Willow's eyes snapped open, her body jerked as if to levitate away from the pain of where she had slept, the memories there, the haunting dreams.  Lying on his mattress was too much.  But she couldn't move.  At all.  Her head was limply resting forward and she saw her legs spread and bound to the legs of a simple wooden chair.  Thankfully she was dressed, in a soft pink skirt that was long enough to fall between the valley of her legs concealing anything that would otherwise make her blush.  He'd dressed her, she glared at yet another intrusion.  She wished he had the guts to try it when she was awake.  She didn’t acknowledge the sigh of relief in her subconscious, she wouldn’t be able to handle it if he dressed her while she was awake.  It would be too awkward.

Snaps of images flicked across her eye lids, his angry snarl, his hands moving so fast, clamping down on her neck.  Blackness.

An irritating itch, burned around her wrists and as she tugged she felt the bindings around her naked ankles pull tighter as well, she hissed.  They were so tight they cut into her skin, her arms tied firmly behind her and then knotted around the bounds at her ankles.  A sharp pitched scrape against the ground made her snap her head up, groaning as her neck ached.

Her eyes focused on someone she didn't recognize, sitting in the chair responsible for the high pitched scrape.  His yellow eyes flicking over hers briefly.  What might have been a kind boyish face was distorted with demonic ridges, skin swollen and crumpled between his eyebrows.  As soon as he saw she was fearfully staring back at his emerged demon, he stood stiffly, gripping his hands to his pants nervously.  He jerked on his step a couple of times, looking to a door to his left and back to her a couple of times.  Her forehead furrowed as he quick paced away, crossing his arms over his chest and darting behind the door.  She flinched as it slammed behind him, taking the time to observe where she was.  The floor was marble white and cream tile, polished clean.  The ceiling high, too high for her drowsy eyes, making her think she was falling from that height, her vision blurring for a moment.

It was daytime, she could tell as filtered light caught the dust halfway up, spilling in straight daggers across the shadows above.  She was in a room with about five doors on the parallel walls either side of her.  Two levels.  She would have considered it a grand, above-ground house had their been furnishings beside her chair.

The place was empty, carrying with it a feeling of emptiness as well.  It wasn’t a home, it was a lair.  Funny how vampires could make a place this grand feel so cold, just like a tomb or a crypt.

Her mind absently remembered torture instruments she could recall while researching, the iron maiden, the electric chair, the rack...and yet this seemed the worst.  She wanted to put it down to not experiencing the others...yet....but:

A large room, beautiful yet bare except for her.  So much space and she was confined within it.  A box within a box.  A coffin beneath the sea.  A small boat in the middle of the Atlantic, jail with the chance of drowning.  If she was free of her bonds, she could run...but she wasn’t.

A tear rolled down her cheek, feeling more coarse than comforting on her skin.  Her friends still weren't here and her last memory of them all was now a dream, where they were dead and she was partially glad for it.  Her nose crinkled at the thought Angelus was getting to her, that he’d cracked her head, did that mean it was true?  Was she weak?  [i]No...if you think you're losing your mind you generally aren't, right?[/i]

She could see sunlight way above if she strained her neck to see, she could see the doors to freedom in front of her, double doors, cedar wood without a lock.  Open and Close.  If she could just break free, if she could find slayer strength and tear free of her bonds (or tear her hands off trying) she could be home.  There was no one here, and it was twenty metres away, freedom teasing, mocking her inadequacy under pressure.  She strained against her ropes and suddenly stopped as his words sunk in.  "It's cruel...to let you think you'll get out of this alive even for a moment..."

"Very cruel..."  She whispered, to no one as tears began to trail down her face.  It was human inadequacy that she was feeling, weakness that wasn’t hers alone – but in that instant she felt like it was only her, who could never have the brains or brawn to escape him.

Behind the door where her warden had fled, she could hear muffled voices but they faded quickly, moving away.  Then only silence lingered to make her tears feel like lashes, her cheeks feel like welts.

**

"What are you saying?"  Giles pinched his nose under his glasses, letting them drop back into place with a desperate sigh.  He couldn't be in watcher mode right now, he felt numb, he felt like he'd just come down from two hours of spinning around on a skewer.  He needed sleep, the sun had come up several hours ago and yet Buffy was still talking with him, it had taken a long time before she'd drawn in that breath.  That gulping breath that said she was drawing courage from the cosmos and it was time to reveal all.  Then she’d told him and he’d felt dead inside.  They’d never been so outsmarted before, never lost anyone in their circle, let alone two in the one night.

He still felt numb, not even fear, he'd been in the same state of perpetual denial as Buffy, part of him believed that Angelus would never harm any of their circle.  No other vampire had ever penetrated them, it just went to show who Angelus really was.  A master.  A master vampire that was intimate with them all.  The numbness broke for a moment as a stab of fear hit his heart, it didn't stay long.  He couldn't think in the same linear pattern that his slayer depended on him for, and the only other clinical thinker was apparently...missing.

"Why would Jenny and Willow be at school I don't understand...Jenny said she had some work to do and then she was...going to..." He couldn't finish the sentence but Buffy understood.  They sat on her couch, he faced forward, his body completely still.  She was curled toward him, desperate to hug him and cry...[i]after[/i] they found Willow so they could all cry together.  Her slayer resolve hardened her features.

"Giles...you need your rest...Xander's on his way...we'll figure out where he's got her..she'll be fine...I won't let anything...  Just...just get some sleep--"

"No- no-no, don't be silly.  I-I-If Willow is in danger than we need to find her as soon as possible, my own personal feelings regarding Angelus will have to be dealt with at a more convenient - "

"Giles!  Would you listen to yourself?  You're not my watcher right now...you're...you're...well friend is too blah...so your this librarian of mine who happens to be very important and well no you're my aged friend, younger than my boyfriend so I can call you that right?"  Buffy blanched when she realised she'd called Angelus her boyfriend.  "Uh I mean former...sorry...I just..."  She sighed shaking her head, letting a veil of blonde hair hide her pain at that revelation.  [i]Former[/i].  It sounded so final.  He wasn't coming back.  Ever.

Giles looked hard at her and shook his head, his blood shot eyes suddenly taking on the agitated watcher visage that she'd become intimate with over two years.  "Are you sure she was there?"  Buffy snapped her head up grateful he didn't say anything about the slip Freud would be proud of,  "She could have misplaced her bookbag couldn't she?"

"C'mon Giles this is Willow, I'm convinced that while in the womb she took responsibility 101, and even so, Xander tried her at her home and her mother said that Willow was sleeping over my place.  That's what we do when we're you know, demon zapping...why would Willow lie?"  Giles looked thoughtful for a moment, but his brain still throbbed, he shook his head, lowering his chin to brush his chest lightly.  "Willow said that she was starting to have an interest in the occult and the black arts...."

Giles's head snapped up with a complete stern watcher-face, for a moment she thought Jenny had left his mind. His forehead crinkled and she realised that his instant reaction had been anger toward the dearly departed love of his life.  He'd been angry for pulling Willow into a world that Buffy had seen as partly responsible for Angel being torn from her.  His features quickly morphed into guilt...then...sorrow returned.  It was amazing how emotive Giles' face was, the man she'd always thought was straight up Tweed-King who would never step out of his prosaic shell.  He was breaking...it made tears well at the back of her eyes, tears she held back because she didn't deserve to cry.

"You think her and Jenny were doing a spell of some sort...?"  Buffy shrugged at Giles' prodding, sadly falling back against her couch.

"I think it’s an avenue to go down.  You should stay here for a while."  Buffy whispered.  Giles didn't look at her, he didn't move. He hadn't even thought about going home, to remove that yellow tape from his door, to walk through the broken rose petals, to sleep in the bed he'd found her...

"Yes, yes that would be...well thankyou Buffy."

"No problem."  She shrugged and met his gaze with an unsure smile.  An awkward pause settled over them, she didn't know what to say, how to apologise, if she should.

She'd loved ice skating when she was young, the feeling of skating away from fears, into an ice world of dreams.  Suddenly she felt that if she tried to skate away, she'd fall through the thin layer of ice and freeze to death.  Giles almost forgot she was there, he was staring at a space in between - everything was Jenny's face, that angle of her neck, her dead eyes.  The image was burned forever between his eyebrows, and only sometimes could he see past it.

"I can't fail another person..."  She regretted the words as soon as they came, they sounded self pitying, like she should be the one being comforted but Giles didn't resent her.  He looked across at her with sad but confident eyes, as a father would look at his daughter when faced with failure at the end of unbelievable effort.

"No [i]we[/i] can't and [i]you[/i] haven't.  You weren’t to know and Jenny...she, I think she understood that you needed time.  I'm sure Willow knows that we're coming too.  We’ll find her Buffy, I’m certain of that."  With that they sprang to action again, pushing Jenny into a vacant space of their mind.

Buffy told her mother that Giles had nowhere else to go, he was her mentor at school and by now a close friend of the family and she didn't see a reason why she should tell him to go elsewhere.  Joyce didn't think twice about it, the man needed somebody after such a considerable loss, even if it was strange that he sort comfort from her daughter.  Appropriate?  She wasn't sure, but she wouldn't press.

Sometime later a doorbell sounded, when Buffy scrambled to get there she found an antsy Oz on the other side.  As monosyllabic as always he simply said, "I know how to find her", without smiling or showing his real fear.  Buffy didn't mind she ushered him in, basically forced him with all her slayer strength into the couch beside Giles and ordered him to speak.  She flinched remembering she always used this tone of voice when attacking vampires, Oz was a good werewolf.

"I can smell Willow."

"Yeah so what?  I catch a whiff of the deodorant every now and then too, I've been asking her to switch brands to something less cherry musk but what am I going to do about it?"  Buffy was being sarcastic, she was tired and didn't need this.  Giles on the other hand quickly saw his point.

"N-no Buffy, I think he could..."  He turned to Oz whose eyes only glanced at him briefly before resettling on the floor.  "Do you mean your canine instincts have developed a more keen sense of smell than the normal populace...y-you can depict her scent specifically?  Even in your present in carnate state?”  Oz simply nodded with a shrug, “Well, yes, that's most fascinating..."

"Well I kinda just said that."  Buffy blinked at Oz.  "Well...not in so many words."

"No one has as many words as Giles."  Buffy chirped, feeling slightly relieved.  "Ok...so I'll just haul you around town until you pick up something..."  She stood up, removing her jacket from the arm rest beside Giles and gesturing toward the door.  Oz stayed completely stoic, his forehead crinkling thoughtfully.

"She's not in Sunnydale, not that I can tell."

"What?!"  Buffy turned on him, stalking back and throwing her jacket away.  "How could you possibly know this?"

"It's giving me a serious sense of the creeps as well..."

"How can you be certain, Oz?  Surely the scent of the cemetery would drown out her scent...or rather there are many places with...[i]walls[/i]...are you perfectly certain?"  Oz merely nodded with an air of apparent nonchalance.  He didn’t' doubt himself at all, he'd know her scent anywhere, he could find it [i]anywhere[/i].  Giles was a little intrigued to further explore the extra-sensory skills given to Oz by his werewolf status three days of the month.

"I just [i]know[/i]."

"Angel could have taken her anywhere...great now he's got to take the torture global, increase his @#%$ franchise...who do I have to kill for informing him about global marketing?"

"Buffy..."  Giles made an exasperated sound that Buffy quickly recognized as Giles-speak for 'sit down before I throttle you'...well if he could.  "Angelus wouldn't take Willow away from Sunnydale it doesn't conform to his profile.  His forms of torture are of a personal nature, most attacks are not specifically aimed at his victim but at close liaisons.  Angelus becomes fixated on whatever makes him feel - "

"Human?  I get it!  I'll remember next time to tell him he's the baddest of the big bads and hope I didn't wound his poor demon feelings too much by giving him a human happy."

"If you understand Buffy then you understand that he'd never [i]take[/i] Willow from the person her kidnapping is intended to injure. That's you Buffy.  In some way or another he will make sure you know his plans for Willow, otherwise the exercise would be pointless.  You should be able to get into his head, you're the slayer, and as such it's your duty - "

"To get into his head?  He's insane!"

"He's a vampire!  He may be a particularly malicious type of vampire but it is extremely ill-advised for you to term him insane simply because he is acting fundamentally different to the man you knew!  That type of assumption could...well it could -"

"Make and ASS out of U and ME...?"  She assisted her stuttering watcher.

"Well, yes."  A flash of Jenny's face crept forward from the back of his mind and he turned away trying to harness his focus once more.  "We destroyed their residence..."

"Oh my god...you don't think that Willow was...there...?"  Buffy's eyes watered, a sick wash of guilt crashing down over her again.  She felt so small and weak, when had Angelus got so powerful?

"What happened?"  Oz asked, jerking forward.

"It's OK Angelus wouldn't have kept her someplace he knew we could find her, he-he's smarter than that."  A scoff left Buffy's lips but Giles ignored her.  "She's too important to him, he's [i]using[/i] her Buffy, using her to get you off your game and as long as he has her...I'm afraid it's going to work.  We must think of his motivations, why at this particular time would he kidnap her to distract you?  What is he plotting?  Buffy this is when you have to focus, as provocative as his behavious becomes you must never forget what you have to do as the slayer."

"Are you kidding?  In the past two hours I have dreamed up twenty different ways to kill him not involving a stake because it would be too pleasant!  I can kill him Giles, I know I can, I'm ready for it now, you just have to trust me!"

"No!"  Oz screamed, shocking Buffy into silence.  She'd never heard a different pitch come out of Oz's mouth before.  Giles understood and continued, past Buffy’s confused glare at Oz.

"If it becomes...absolutely necessary you must kill Angelus but I fear in doing so..you'll never discover Willow."  Giles slumped back into the couch, a defeated sigh coming from his throat.  "For once...we are truly playing [i]his[/i] game and descending into blind panic seems like it may have been the best option a month ago."  Buffy was standing completely still, her arms stiff, in a half waver between holding herself as the tears came and a defensive stance holding everything away.  She was fighting the newly resurrected Tear-demon, oh how she knew that bastard well.

"So what's the plan?"  She said begrudgingly looking up at him with her best hard slayer gaze.

"We wait for his next move..."  Oz wasn't sure about Giles' comment, he was choking on fear.  Buffy nodded.   None of them voiced the simultaneous thought that chilled them to the bone.  What if his next move was gift wrapping [i]Willow's[/i] body?

**

Hours went by, filled with loneliness and anxiety.  Willow found her eyes unbelievably heavy, but couldn’t close them because of the screaming coming from muscles in her neck.  Her mouth was dry and she wondered how many days had gone by?  Was it only one night?  A week? An hour?  She smacked her lips together, chewing on phantom food and trying desperately not to picture a snapple and a jelly roll every five seconds.  When parched healthy food never springs to mind.

The door her vamp-warden had disappeared through opened suddenly.  She tensed, steadying herself to meet that carnal dark gaze that always made her feel so small. Instead playful blue eyes lit up, dark ringlets falling around a distinctly feminine face.

"The stars were whispering to me last night, psst, psst, psst... telling me naughty things about you...your mummy will be very mad, out so late, must have babysitters from now on...psst psst..."  Her English accent was almost too sweet.  Her madness made Willow recognize her as Drusilla, but more importantly made her recognize the true torturous capabilities of her captor.  Willow wasn't afraid of Drusilla even as she made the sounds of a whispering wind, her hands chattering like angels and demons by the soft skin of her ears.  She was insane, clinically, but not intimidatingly so.  A smile spread across Drusilla's face as she giggled out the words, "but it's not your birthday...."  In her arms she cradled a scraggly looking puppy. Willow swallowed recalling something about Angelus nailing a puppy to - well Giles never got that far.  Buffy doesn't have a puppy.  A part of her found it amusing that a vampire could care for anything, be affectionate to anything let alone a small, defenseless puppy named 'sunshine'.  But as she watched Drusilla coo and coddle the affectionate puppy a newfound hope surged through her.  Maybe if she twisted him just right then he'd...no, Angelus detested feeling human above all else, perhaps that was the difference, Drusilla didn't really care about feeling human she wasn't to astute about anything enough to care...

"What are you up to, Pet?"  Out of the same door she heard a very familiar cockney voice.  "Bullocks!"  He hissed as his wheel rammed into the door.  A chuckle sounded behind him and he was shoved violently free of the door.  His wheels locked and skidded until his chair tilted, threatening to spill his body across the ground.  It took him a moment to gain control of his spinning wheels, before he clenched his jaw and growled at his sire.

"Maybe you should take a few extra lessons before you go for your license, wouldn't want to hurt yourself my boy...oh wait...too bad.  I’ll give those pesky walls a stern talking to, don’t you worry.  Someone in your state can’t have them just jumping out of nowhere and attacking you now can they?  Defenseless creatures should have a protector to...watch over them." Angelus strolled out and Willow tried to sink into the chair, only succeeding in realizing she wasn’t a turtle and her body wasn’t her portable home.

Angelus exuded a sort of power that until now she'd never really noticed before.  She'd presumed it to be a natural element of vampirism, but Spike and Drusilla were...and he was...the difference was telling.  Dru's face spread into a smile that Willow recognised from Buffy's face when she looked upon her dead boyfriend.  A stab of pain hit Willow, that's what her and Jenny had been trying to do, let Buffy get that look back in her eyes, fix this whole big mess -

"Sod off you limey bastard...."  Spike growled under his breath, cursing a few more times as Angelus didn't seem to notice and instead wrapped his arms around a humming dru, his eyes focused on the little red head.

Wide green eyes opened helplessly for him, allowing his ravenous hunger to devour her soul, her innocence.  She was trembling.  God how he wanted to break her in that moment, especially with his greatest unliving prize swaying herself seductively against him.  He knew how well he could mold a creature of the night, how long that loyalty could last.  Even through a f*cking soul for christs sake!  Drusilla was insatiable for him.

"Is she a present, my Angel?"  Drusilla smiled as Willow looked between them fearfully.  Drusilla heard Miss Edith's words more clearly even though she was in her room for being a bad girl and spilling mummy's tea.  Willow was afraid...but not of her Angel.  "She trembles like an autumn leaf...it's exhilarating..."  Drusilla's tongue fell across the back of her teeth absently as she stared hungrily at Willow.  Her eyes were glazed, she wasn't even really looking at the now terrified girl but rather around her.  "What does she taste like on your tongue, daddy?"  Drusilla looked back at her sire, her eyes beaming with...love was the only word Willow could come up with.  But it was inappropriate, she didn't really understand the relationship between a childe and sire.

Angelus clenched his jaw, unwilling to tell that secret in front of Willow herself. Disappointed with his silence, Drusilla lurched forward, stalking around willow and dancing gleefully with tight shoulders and wriggling fingers every now and then, casting an excited look at Angelus.

"What is it?  What do you see, baby?"  Angelus voiced with adamant curiosity.

"I can hear choirs, choirs singing...it's beautiful...all the same thing, the same name like your stars daddy....and they're humming to me.  Something wicked is coming this way..."

"Your thumbs are pricking are they pet?"  Spike drawled sarcastically, he loved her but he hated the way her eyes lit up when their sire looked at her.  Spike hated him, the love of his unlife was fawning over a demon that despised her and yet...something told him that when he looked upon the striking form that was his sire, his eyes lit up in that same infuriating way.  He was a gift from somewhere...and it certainly wasn't heaven.  'Too bad this gift is non-refundable...' he thought to himself.

"Not my thumbs.  My Angel,"  Dru grinned wickedly, "Kitty longs to purr...you will pet her won't you?"  Dru said with a chuckle as she held Sunshine out toward her sire, beneath her front paws making the puppy sway as it struggled in her arms.  Angelus raised his eyebrow at her with a slightly amused chuckle but the most of his attention was already focused on Willow again.  The bruises on her neck were already dark, he'd squeezed hard she'd pissed him off that much.  So fragile, he longed to break all her bones, see how limp a human body could get before it passed out from the pain.

"Uh darling, that's a dog and dog's don't purr..."  Spike, tilted his head to the side, smiling at her slightly.  It was just like trying to tell her you can't see stars through the ceiling, he liked to pretend she wasn't insane, just eccentric or able to see something a normal person couldn't.  She was...original...

"They [i]do[/i], the choir says they do for hours like dew on grass then leaving....but they bark too...bark like Miss Edith when she went to the corner...bad puppies bark.....woof...."  She snarled into her sires ear and he finally turned back to her, a hand wrapping possessively around her willing waist.  Comprehension dawned in his eyes as he surveyed his Childes, his hand shakily caressed her hair, marveling at the sight beneath her scalp.

Willow almost coughed in surprise, it had to be a facade.  How could he possibly understand her?  Plenty of practice?  Another one of those strange sire-childe things?

Pulling Drusilla's dead skin into his cold crevices he could almost swear she came alive, this was home in his embrace, feeling hunted and thrilled without so much as a kiss.  But this time he did kiss her, hearing Spike wheel himself angrily away, he kissed her hungrily, telling all she belonged to him.

Willow squirmed, every now and then, beyond the whimpers and buckling knees of Drusilla's obvious responsiveness, there was the sight of his mouth pulling and manipulating hers further open, his tongue sliding out and invading her.  She couldn't look away, her cheeks flushing, scared to close her eyes and what other horrible things she might see as the darkness ticked visions into the fold of her eyelids.  When Angelus shoved his desperate childe from his lips with a vicious, mocking smile she almost fell over, a smeared smile dancing on her lips as she stumbled.  He obviously was a good kisser, hardly fair that he had over 200 years practice, that sort of skill would catch anyone by surprise.  Drusilla whined only half seriously, a pout exposing her for the pure child at heart she still was.  Willow could imagine the innocent girl she had been in another life before the devil had taken her against her will.  Buffy had once told her that Angel believed Drusilla to be 'the worst thing he'd ever done' and that was saying something.  She pitied her and hated Angelus all the more passionately.

"I named the stars before you came back to me...the doors were opening and they were all the same name...the choir is its voice, the voice of the stars my daddy..."

"Go find your boyfriend, lover - make sure his wounded pride didn't get stuck in the spokes of his tires."  Drusilla hurried off, still holding her lips from that bruising kiss.  Angelus never kissed her, not even when he was physically showing her who she really belonged to, puppy really did want to bark.  Drusilla looked once more back at them before she closed the door on her and Spike's quarters.

"Alone at last,"  Angelus held his hands elegantly together, his eyes smoldering as he surveyed her flushed cheeks. [i]Hmmm, well someone had enjoyed that kiss at least...[/i]"Oh darling I didn't know you cared..."

"I'm not alone yet...why don't you run along with Dru you looked like you were enjoying yourself.  I'm fine by myself...really."  Angelus smiled stalking slowly toward her.  Her breath hitched and she blushed in shame at how easily he could frighten her with a simple series of meaningless gestures.  But was it meaningless?  He squatted in front of her, making her wish she could clamp her virginal legs together so she wasn't in such a vulnerable and exposed position.  Not as exposed as the other night but still...her blush deepened.

"Dru has cold skin and I like a body with warmth...I like to feel how hot I can get a woman."  His eyes raked her for a moment, lingering in places that made her clamp her eyes shut just so he wouldn't see how he discomfited her so much.  He was walking sexuality and he flaunted it without inhibition - he was arrogance and vanity, confidence and impurity.  She remembered the story of Narcissus, who had seen his own image reflected in the water and instantly fallen in love - she almost laughed.  Angelus hadn't even seen his own reflection. Maybe they should call it angelussism instead of narcissism.

He was her complete opposite and suddenly the twisting attraction of a completely different personality made her body tense.  She was intrigued by him because she couldn't understand him.  A naturally curious person, she saw no real insanity in the compulsion to understand him better, it was probably the same compulsion people had when they wrote books on serial killers and sociopaths.  It's not that she was twisted, just curious.  She also would like him to spontaneously combust into a pile of very interesting dust, she’d be just as intrigued then.

"Y-you like warmth huh?"  He nodded, and surprisingly didn't smirk because she knew her blush was only deepening with each moment.  "I-I-you know-I heard hell can be a pretty warm place...ooo I know someone who could send you there!  Would you like her phone number?  Oh wait...I forgot you're doing that stalking thing...I'm sure she'd be glad to help you out though...you know anything to get rid of an old friend."  Angelus grinned, dropping to his knees before her, leaning closer, his nose inches from her own.  He liked that little spark that flared in her when she was angry, it never stayed though.  He supposed fleeting rage was a trait of those who forgave too easily, those who felt guilt whenever they achieved retribution.  He could smell the disgusting weakness of her, he could almost...taste...it.  She stopped breathing as hooded eyes fell to her lips.  He imitated breath, drawing it in long and unnecessarily, so he could inhale her scent, throw her off balance with something of such basic animalism.

"I'm sure she would help me out in the warmth department through other means..."  He whispered, his eyes opening from a false haze of her pretty scent.  "She just can't wait to spread her legs for me...I think it's the leather that gets her all hot and bothered.  She thinks I can't see through that tough facade, but I can smell it...her want."  Willow glared at him, her mouth opening to defend the honour of her best friend. He cut her off with a more seductive whisper, leaning closer so she could feel puffs of simulated, suggestive breathing against her shaking lower lip, "then again, I don't think my presence does nothing to you either..."

His hands slid to her knees and her skin was overcome by shivers, muscles clenching in her thighs.  He met her eyes as they began to water, shaking back and forth on her beautiful emerald iris.  His hands began to move, tediously and torturously slow, tracing the inner line of her thighs with a large span and cunning expertise. The nerves in her legs seemed to reach out and press back against his hand.  How could anything make every cell of a body develop its own conscience?  The shiver from her legs trembled beneath his touch and ran across her skin, clutching at her spinal cord as it rocketed up her back in a spirited shiver.  She gasped and jerked instinctively to close her legs, he chuckled.

"Hush...this is hardly the less enjoyable part of the torture.  I'm going to hurt you for a long time before I throw away your body...so you should enjoy this generosity while it lasts.  When I'm bored, I'm never gentle..."  His hands reached the end of her shaking thighs and her jaw clenched.  She warned the tears that if they fell she would become hard hearted and never let her tear ducts cry again.  She needed to stay strong, she was quivering all over in the effort.  His hands didn't move from their position, the hinge between femininity and groin, just tracing the elastic of her panties with a cruel glimmer in his eyes.

She squirmed feeling a sudden coursing need swell at the very apex of her thighs, she begged all the Gods to let him not stoop low enough to abuse her like that.  Her body was becoming separate from her mind though, she could feel blasphemous words beginning to string themselves together inside her chest.  She wanted to scream something at him that Willow would never say. She bit down on her tongue and glared with all she could, hoping that it came across as a glare and her eyes hadn't turned against her too.  She begged all the Gods that he wouldn't notice that her body was responding to something carnal it recognized in him.  This was humiliating.

As he moved his hands, sliding one hand out to caress the top of her thighs while moving her skirt all the way to her hips, she gasped shouting the first thing that came to her mind, "Buffy's coming for me right now!"

"Hmm...and I could have you coming for me in a matter of moments...what a lovely little triangle we could make."  He chuckled as she blushed again, he really enjoyed watching this little red head squirm.  Her mouth hung open slightly, absolutely appalled.

"Y-You shouldn't be so blasé about it, she'll kill you when I tell her what you've done to me!"

"And what exactly have I done to you, mother Mary?  Drawn your picture?  Touched thighs that are now shaking because they like it so much?”  She turned her head away from him slightly, cursing as he proved it by applying pressure and eliciting another shiver.
“Someone call the police I think we have a real sicko on our hands!"  He held the laugh at the back of his teeth as she stuttered and searched for something else to say.

Fingers curling in like a paw he traced her flushed cheeks, relishing the heat there, testimony of the blood he'd caused to stir beneath her skin.  His gaze fell to her throat and she was horrified as the stare lingered.  Thinking he was going to bite her, she flinched as his hand reached for her neck pressing harshly against her bruise with a smile.  A yelp of pain tore from her throat and she glared at him, he met her eyes with a smile.  "Then again I did strangle you.  But not to death...so I think you should be grateful...I’d like you to show me some...[i]gratitude[/i]."  His hand left her throat trailing up her cheek, testing her softness, and though his eyes didn't meet hers she saw a genuine curiosity in his.  His fingers trailed her jaw line, his thumb pressing against her lower lip and rubbing back and forth firmly. She gasped at the contact and pulled her head back a little, away from him. He seemed transfixed for a moment.

"W-when she finds out you have me she'll come straight a-"  Angelus threw his head back and laughed with all of his dead heart.  It stopped Willow's burgeoning tirade at the edge of her lips and she gaped at him in surprise, her heart suddenly thundering.

"She already knows.  The thing is kiddo, I had Giles too..."

"[i]GILES[/i]!!"  Willow yelled out into the roof high above them, she ignored her petrified sounding echo as she strained to hear his reply.  Angelus laughed slightly again, brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear.

"Willow, Willow...I thought you were smart enough to recognize past tense when you heard it."  She looked at him again, curiosity watered down as she recognized the glint in his eyes.  He was about to hurt her.  "I put it to her straight, I told her to choose which of her little friends got to live...do you think she'd just let him die?"  A reminiscent smile crossed his face, quirking his lips up as if recalling a favorite childhood memory.  Willow's eyes darkened, her forehead furrowing.  "If you ask me, she chose wisely, I mean what's a slayer without a watcher?  It's like a crossbow without arrows...useless...and I should know I've seen a few slayers in my time,"  As he continued to talk smoothly, Willow didn't hear him.  She didn't believe him!  Buffy would [i]never[/i] choose, and though she wouldn’t' spit the words at him she simply [i]knew[/i] it.  She was too smart to fall for that routine, Buffy would never leave her with a demon to die, especially this demon.

But somewhere in her heart...the seed of doubt had been planted unbeknownst to her.  It was all Angelus had wanted out of the situation, one small seed of doubt to plant, water and watch grow into a dark blossom of belladona.

"Does this actually work?"  Willow looked up at him, her jaw set.  "You're right, you're not Angel.  Angel would know that I'd never believe Buffy would just leave me to die..."

"Maybe you don't know your friends...."  He chuckled snidely, curious to her reaction.

"Maybe you don't know your enemies!"  She bit back, referring to herself.  He found her weak, and she hated it.  Hated knowing that people saw her that way, and that they were right.  She thought the snide comment was cryptic enough, he wouldn't see it as a challenge referring to herself, he'd assume she was talking about Buffy's heroic personality.

He didn't.  Cupping her face so softly Willow looked at him in surprise, he smiled at her, running a nail down her cheek, tracing a crucifix there softly, like he'd done to many victims so many years ago.  "Oh how I'd enjoy getting to know you..."  His other hand cupped her cheeks, rubbing across her cheek bones Willow blanched in surprise he leant forward without warning and crushed his lips to hers.  It was a kiss that said 'i hate you' and she felt it run through her in a cold shiver.  But trembles turn to wantings in young flesh and he knew that well.  When she gasped in surprise he devoured her angling her head so he could invade her mouth, sucking on her tongue and opening his mouth wide to taste her.  He could smell her tears sliding down her face but he felt the moan rather than heard it and he pulled back with a devilish smile, running his tongue across the back of his teeth.  “One day Willow Rosenburg, you won’t be my enemy.”  Willow was gasping for breath, appalled, shaken and sickened by the malice of the vampire.  Terribly and disturbingly flushed from his mastery she understood Drusilla's reaction but he was a fool if he thought she'd turn into an insipid drooling dog.  Willow glared at him, tempted to spit in his face if she didn't feel like it would put her in her grave.

"See that was fun but I do apologize, it was far too [i]nice[/i], wasn’t it?  I really don’t want to be too cruel...hmmm..." He chuckles slightly cold eyes observing how she tried to closer herself off to his ensuing attack. His eyes ran down her lingering at the hidden arches of her thighs beneath her skirt, he smiled triumphantly like he could see through the material, "Oh you did enjoy it, what would Buffy say?  tsk, tsk.  No matter.  I did promise to act more appropriately and I think you know what that means I'm going to start doing to you."  Willow didn't know, but she wasn't about to ask.  His hand fell from her cheek and Willow blinked, she'd been so absorbed in his empty, haunting eyes she'd forgotten it was there, reverently tracing her.  He stood as if nothing had happened, smiled wickedly and walked away without a word.

Willow hadn't even seen her warden leave, carrying a tainted white envelope with him.  She hadn't even realised that the splintered light above her had disappeared and darkness had come again.

The night was for hunting after all...

In spike's chambers he stared down at Drusilla's giggling form in his bed as she continued to talk about a purring cat, all of a sudden she sat up - a beautiful smile twisting her dark features.  God he loved her...and he hated the fact sometimes, because he had to thank his limey sire for her as well.  "mmmm...Spike...not long now..."

"What is it now pet?  Birds oinking?"  He smiled down at his feet then back up at her.

Turning around he saw her eyes were truly dark and he sat forward, she was only this way when something really twisted was about to happen.  "Meow..." was all she said with a sinister giggle.
 

Willow felt her lips thrumming and closed her eyes, if she could brush her hands to her mouth she could wipe his bitter taste, his impression away.  Why the hell was it lingering and taunting her?
It was her experience that the impression of kisses faded...

Willow blushed and for the first time, prayed for death, prayed for a minion to get over zealous and stike her down before he could come back.   She had the feeling the battle was all down hill once he’d discovered your weakness wasn't in fear, but in how much your body seemed to want him.

~Part: 5~

Buffy grunted as she blocked the vampires clumsy punch, gripping his hand and pulling him around she plunged the stake into his heart. The vampires stunned face fell into a grimace for a moment before he cracked, blistered and burst into ash. Buffy didn’t even smile in her usual satisfaction as the latest creature of the night returned to the dirt he’d just escaped from. ‘Tommy Righteous’ she mused looking at the headstone of the boy he’d once been. Righteous my ass...

That had been the last here...and yet she still felt a pain in her chest...there was another...close by. Holding the stake firm in her hand, her eyes darted across the silent tombstones. Several times she hallucinated dirt breaking as her desire to kill something steadily increased. Just one hand reaching for freedom...come on!

Angelus...her heart leapt, she really wanted it to be him for the first time in her patrol. Normally she longed for him to never come, so she'd never have to see his face crack, blister and burst into ash. It was an angelic face, he was beautiful and she still saw Angel, if she dusted him there was really no hope of....she shook her head at the thought, cursing softly. He was no longer her weakness. She knew nothing could bring him back but for some irritating reason hope still lingered, if she touched him in the right way, if she killed the right demon - some divine force would give him back to her...permanently. She'd earned it hadn't she? Didn't the powers that be ever give back to their warriors? Pfft. The Powers that Smite is more fitting. You can only be good if you win battles and lose everything else, the good can only be martyrs while the evil get everything else. One day when she was in her own grave, she’d much right up to the fates, punch them in the face and tell them to improve employee relations before the good guys formed a union and went on strike.

The snap of a twig sounded and she turned stake in hand, looking into the small cluster of trees rustling in the breeze. She knew he was there.

"Let's get this over with I have a meeting to get to..." She snarled. To her surprise it wasn't Angel, her senses must have been off. A blonde man stepped out, she knew he was a vampire. He was pale, straight faced with brown hard eyes, his long black coat softly touching the ground. Whatever was with the ubiquitous black duster she didn't know, could vampires not wear a normal length coat? Did they want a cape like Dracula, only it was no longer fashionable?

"Slayer...."

"Vampire," She said sarcastically, "now that we've had the preliminary introductions how about I get you intimate with my little wooden friend here?"

As she went to charge at him his hand reached into his pocket and he calmly said, "I have a message from Angelus," as if that would stop her dead in her tracks. It didn't, she merely hit him hard, trading her stake for her fist and watching him fly to the ground. He vamped out and quickly shook his head, cursing that he still couldn't control the demon like his sire had been teaching him. He bit the inside of his cheek to restrain himself, retrieving the letter he'd dropped from the dew covered grass.

"Well you tell him I don’t take messages until I get my friend back alive – and I mean with a pulse," She hissed ready for a fight but instead he didn't get up, in fact he simply rose to his knees, tucking one leg up for balance and holding the letter in his hand over his heart. In a regal position of worship...but the worship wasn't for her. His gaze met hers, she found it kind of creepy and unsettling. Wasn't he going to fight her? What was he doing? "Who are you?"

"David." He said simply offering out the letter to her. When she took it warily, he didn't move, simply bowed his head and remained completely still. She was a slayer...[i]hellllooo[/i]...get with the running or the fighting! Realization dawned on her, David was more scared of [i]Angelus[/i] than her, more scared of being disobedient than of a slayer who would surely kill him! Torture flashed into her mind, that's what she wouldn't do. Instantly Willow was there and she could almost hear her screaming. Buffy didn't want to open the letter, she was torn. Bitterness welled within her. She almost cried but wouldn't let his minion see her in pain, wanted his minion to know that she should be the thing that terrified him. Was this Angelus's way of showing her what he really was? Of showing her that she was nothing? Not even his minions were scared of her! Oh but they would be...she wouldn't spare him just because he didn't fight back, oh no, she'd plunge that ....

All thought left her, she'd opened it, scrawled on the folded edge of the piece of thick paper, almost cardboard, was the words 'She’s so cute and helpless...really a turn on.' She remembered those words, how could she forget? It was the moment of loathed epiphany, when she'd realised he wasn't Angel, she could still see him pinching Willow's cheek as he clenched her throat viciously, "dream on schoolgirl your boyfriend is dead!" He could have snapped her like a twig if he wasn't using her as a shield against Buffy. Coward.

Slipping the piece of paper out, she took in a deep breath and unfolded it slowly. Before she'd finished she knew it was a picture, she could see the smudged lead all around his writing, as she opened it a gasp left her. Willow surrounded in petals, a pleasured look on her face, completely naked. Beautiful. The sheets around her rumpled, her fingers were gripping the bed in what could only be described as ecstasy.

That sick f*ck...Buffy found herself screaming inside.

Without a thought of mercy, Buffy let the picture fall from her hands, hate filled eyes focused on David. She hit him in the face first with her fist, then swung her foot viciously snapping his neck to the side. It didn't break and she was grateful, she wasn't nearly done yet. "I have a message for Angelus!" She hissed, her blood rushing past her ears in agony as she continued to pound into his still form. Her enraged foot breaking ribs and tearing organs. He wailed softly but not openly yet as he curled himself over refusing to fight her. Her breath became labored as she kicked his face, imagining Angel's brown eyes staring at her, his body in that same weak position.

Her rage faltered slightly, because Angelus in such a position would be Angel, not the monster. Angelus would never quiver before her, never submit, not even with his last breath (in a manner of speaking). So she stopped kicking him, almost tripping over as she faltered and finally looked at what she had done. Wrath. It didn't matter that David was evil, she'd been...cruel to a creature that wasn't fighting back because of the provocations of another. Angelus had acted exactly like Giles said he would, and she’d fallen for it. Sobbing slightly, taking in a shaking breath to stop herself, she stepped away from him. David sat up, his legs spread slightly as his dazed body wavered on shaking hands. He looked up at her, one of his eyes already swelling, blood coming from his broken nose.

She'd done that. She'd enjoyed it too.

Just when she felt like apologizing his tongue lashed out and licked at his bleeding face, he smiled through it and chuckled softly, a moan of pleasure coming from his lips. Her nose curled up, it was all she needed to excuse herself. He wasn't human. He didn’t deserve pity. She could already see the cuts healing. She really hated vampires.

"So how about I give you my message and you run along whipping boy!"

"I don't do messages from people..." He snarled and spat blood from his mouth onto her shoes. Her nose curled up, the rage wasn't completely gone yet.

"That's OK, it shouldn't be too hard to remember..." She hissed, only slightly broken from her own enjoyment of another things pain. She approached him quickly ramming the heel of her boot as hard as she could into his groin. He howled in agony and she thought she saw tears burst from his eyes as his demon form emerged. He fell back on the ground and she smiled cruelly as tears fell down her own face. She was becoming a monster too but only because she hated him so much. It would all go away when he was gone.

She'd not only used her heel but he'd been sitting and she'd ground his most precious parts into the dirt. If vampires didn't shoot blanks than he'd definitely be sterile now. Picking up the sketch she ran away from him toward her own home, where Giles, Xander, Cordlia and Oz were hopefully waiting. She couldn't' stay there, couldn't stake him. The anger and rage still inside her, coiling and curdling until she was murderous. She would be him if she patrolled now. Be Angelus. She felt him possessing her and she didn't want to become what he longed for her to be. A monster, a killer, his soulless mate like she'd once thought herself his soul mate.

As she clutched at the drawing her feet pounding into the ground, the paper crinkled like the trash it was and she felt the urge to throw it away. Would she tell them? Show them? Surely Willow wouldn't want anyone to see her like that. Ridiculed in a way that not even an idiot could believe to be truth. The look on Willow's face...the beauty of her....she'd seen pictures like this before. But they had been on her face, taunting her love of Angel, using how he'd touched her against her. Willow would never let him touch her...when she thought of how demeaning it would be...how horrible, her blood went cold. She wanted to kill him, she just hoped she didn't' want it so much that she became sloppy. Giles said he'd try to provoke her, that a slayer couldn't become a slave to her passions. Well she only had one passion at the moment, and it was far from lust or love. As she reached her door, she gratefully flung it open charging inside and slamming it.

She let her body relax against the door, the stillness shattering her in a way that a fight couldn't and tears traced down her cheeks. Warm and wet and feeling, her whole being trembled and she wailed loudly, not noticing the bodies come toward her. She didn't respond as Giles pulled her from the ground shaking her softly, tilting her chin to look into her mad eyes. There was no sense there. Lightly he slapped her and her eyes snapped into focus, her pupils dilating as if only now she was taking in the light of the room. She blinked and her tense shoulders relaxed slightly.

"I-I'm sorry..." She whispered and stepped back and around him heading for the stairs. She hadn't stopped clutching the drawing.

"Buffy? What happened? Did you see Angel?" She stopped walking, she had to tell them anything she knew...for Willow. It didn't matter how she felt, all had to be suppressed as they hunted for her best friend.

"Did Oz have any luck?" She tried to delay. Giles smiled slightly, pressing his glasses into the bridge of his nose.

"Y-yes actually in a way...we are now certain she wasn't at the factory. He didn't pick up a trace...I mean even ashes would..." Giles trailed off not wanting her to picture anything too bad. They were certain now she hadn't been there, that was enough. Buffy nodded with a slightly relieved smile, wiping a few errant tears away.

Xander wrapped an arm around her, which she accepted briefly with a smile. "What's up Buff? You look like death."

"Thanks..."

"You know me, I'm compliment guy - give the ladies love get the love back." He frowned slightly, "which might explain why the twisted universe punished my weak compliments with Cordy..." He smiled playfully at Cordelia who glared at him. Buffy wasn't in the mood and so brushed Xander's arm off her while they continued their banter. She turned to Giles.
 

"Uh one of Spike's boys was there...or Angelus's I'm not sure...he gave me a message." Buffy held up her hand reluctantly, Giles went to look at the crumpled paper but she jerked her arm back.

"Buffy!" He chided her. Nothing was personal until they found Willow again, it had been their silent agreement.

"Not for me Giles...Willow...she wouldn't want you to see it...trust me when I say it was just meant for me, Ok? I-I think she's still alive. Something tells me he had a whole new ball of fun planned for her." Giles forehead furrowed but he trusted Buffy's judgment, part of him wanted to see what could shake Buffy so much, the other part of him tended to agree with her.

"That's our Angel, the charming Prince who shows up with Roses and chocolates and dead friends, any way to show his sweet affections," Xander hissed without his patented joke-face. Buffy couldn't smile at him, she was sick of his snippy remarks. She felt guilty ok? Did he have to rub it in all the time. "If Willow's dead than...than I don't care if he's a big strong grr I'm going to kill deadboy until he's...well deader."

"She's alive..." Oz voiced from the doorway and Buffy smiled awkwardly at him, quickly looking away. Oz had a way of communicating without words and Buffy understood like only someone with an equally silent lover could. She could read those of the monosyllabic and smiled. He felt like he knew, like he'd feel a piece of himself die if Angelus killed her. He'd sense it. She believed him. She’d certainly felt it keenly when Angel had been torn away from her.

**

Willow had changed tactics, she'd take everything Angelus threw at her, knowing that Drusilla obviously couldn't see everything. She'd seen Jenny and the curse...but not the disk. Willow smiled for what felt like the first time in days, the curse was still alive she just had to get out of here and get the disk. She wasn't sure she'd ever trust Angel again after being taunted by his inner bastard but she'd learn to live with it.

Spike was watching her now, or at least he'd been told to. He'd dragged the order out, whining and moaning about not being a lap dog who was just going to sit around and take his stupid orders all day long like the minions. Angelus had only laughed and said "Well it is a sitting job and I just figured you'd be the most qualified for the job – it was a compliment." Of course after all the squabbling and glare matches, Spike had eventually done just what he’d claimed he’d never do. She wondered if he noticed how keen to please Angel he really was. Maybe it was fear...

Every now and then Spike would cast a glance up at her, roll his eyes or clench his jaw and look back down at the Soap magazine he was reading.

Jenny...a part of her knew her favourite teacher was dead, or kidnapped...or worse. Otherwise Angelus would be cursed again by now, they would have found her by now. She was waiting for conformation, that Angelus seemed reluctant to give. He didn't throw it in her face to reinforce his threats, he didn't even allude to the missing teacher. It was strange...

Spike looked up at her again then sighed in a very bored manner, Willow looked at him in interest - this was Spike? It was kind of amusing to see him so much under Angel's thumb. Then she realised the kind of fear it would take to make a vampire like Spike obedient and didn't find it so funny. "Oh look...she's still there...." Spike said loud enough for anyone to hear who had vampire senses, "I was real worried for a second there...what with her being bound down tighter than the Great Poof to the slayer I was wondering whether or not she'd just make a mad dash for it and that'd be it....must be my cunning watching skills. Daddy would be so proud, not just anyone can watch a still moving object like me..." Willow glared at him slightly and he just smiled tightly, he'd amused himself for a moment but the boredom was well and truly back.

The doors she'd been staring at longingly suddenly opened. David tripped inside, falling over his feet a few times until he growled at his clumsiness and straightened himself up. Willow gasped seeing how beaten up her warden was. His face was swelling and he held his chest like he was about to implode.

"Spike fetch Angelus..." David gasped leaning on his wheelchair and holding his rib cage. Spike calmly put down his magazine holding Willow's eyes. She only saw the flash of mischief for a moment before Spike grabbed David by his head punched him in the ribs and threw him across the room.

"I'm a little busy trying to catch a cat right now...maybe i'll slot that in after I go piss on a hydrant how's that? Maybe you’d like to save me the effort and you’ll go fetch the bone for me though, eh?" With a yawn, ignoring David's wailing as he held his ribs tighter glaring at him, Spike picked up his magazine and turned a page. "Ooo Bo and Hope...gotta love those kids...they certainly make me feel better about killing people."

David vamped out and Willow gasped flinching back in her chair as he stood up, ignoring his pain and focused all his anger at Spike. Spike looked at Willow again and saw her eyes frightfully staring to his left.

"What is it, sport? Ready for round two already? Ok but I got to tell you throwing you across the room wasn't the most memorable experience of my life..." The tension was snapped in two as Angelus walked in through the same doors as David had. He briefly absorbed the situation, the glares shooting between Spike and David in between growls. He smiled at Willow who now only had eyes for him - far scarier than the fight that was about to take place. "Now, now kids you can share your new chew toy." Spike's growl turned to his sire and transformed into an exaggerated yawn, finishing with him turning back to his magazine. "David nice to see you, I thought you'd be a pile of dust by now - you didn't run away did you?" Angelus smiled slightly, taking off his black duster and throwing it to one of his female concubines. She grinned at him drawing blood from her lower lip as she lustily bit down. He didn't look twice at her as he continued to walk toward Willow. She gulped.

"Actually she was the one who ran away, Master." David chuckled and Spike smiled as his master paused mid step. Angelus straightened up and pivoted slowly, slow enough to startle David into running through his mind over things he could have done wrong.

"The slayer ran away?" David nodded. Angelus' eyes slowly surveyed his crumpled form, obviously she'd given him a bad beating if he still hadn't healed. "What do you think Willow? With you here all whimpering and helpless is the slayer the type to drop her bundle and run? Then again the opposition was obviously very deadly..." He chuckled as he surveyed David’s injuries with only mild interest. Willow glared at him and didn't give him the satisfaction of answering. The answer was obvious anyway, her chin set in a scowl. He smiled briefly, scratching his nose. David didn't see it coming. One minute Angelus was on the other side of the room, the next he was pinning him against a wall behind Spike, holding him up by the throat, his vamp face showing and laughing up at him. "Did you not hear me when I said the slayer was not to be touched? That you were not to run?" David gagged, he was still young, still hadn't realised that he didn't need to breathe. Idiot. Surely he must have noticed there was no burning sensation in his lungs by now. Angelus pulled David’s head off the wall, slamming it back down with enough force to make the back of his head split.

"I did as ordered Angelus...she gave me a message for you..."

"I don't remember telling you to accept any messages either..." He said cheerily his eyes falling down David's blood soaked clothes.

"No...don't....!"

"No?...don't?...you left out please!" Angelus ran his hand almost lovingly down David's chest, following his own movement with his dark eyes. When he reached his sternum he looked up and smiled crookedly. He began applying pressure slowly and steadily increasing the weight. David cried out in pain, his wails only increasing as Angelus snarled hearing a rib crack under the pressure. "So what was the message?" David looked even more fearfully at his master knowing what it was.

Willow's was soaking up the scene with avid interest, eyes flicking between Spike and the scene behind him. Spike could smell her fear and it was the only think that distracted him from his page turning. "Cheer up, Red, at least it's not you..." He smelled her fear, the strength of the scent tripling as he laughed out those words. A smile curled his mouth.

"It isn't the message you tell, Master...torture me if you like but I have given you my obedience..." Angelus almost groaned, that line was right out of a cheap horror movie. He let his throat go, stepping away without acknowledging David again while he 'caught his breath' and crumpled to the ground. "She sort of stepped on my balls Sire..."

"Obviously mate, now get to the message..." Spike drawled, already bored with the scene playing behind him.

"I tend to agree with Spike..." Spike looked up at Angelus strangely and Willow blushed as she observed the look on the peroxide blonde. Angelus hadn't noticed but a smile of contentment briefly lit his face before he hid it. All this time she thought he'd hated Angelus, when really he needed his approval, like any other childe. Intriguing. Must really kill Spike that he still wanted his sires approval...

"No I mean that was the message...my dicks throbbing can I get an ice pack?"

"No..." Angelus whispered flicking his hand, in a gesture designed to dismiss the lower classes.

"Don't be such a wuss mate, couldn't have hurt that much - wasn't much there anyway," Spike smiled when he heard David growl at his comment. He didn't much like the guy - such a kiss arse. Spike's smile faded, he remembered those days, relentlessly trying to please his sire then he'd realised. There was no pleasing him, Angelus' job was to be better, best at everything - he was never pleased, any approval was fleeting at best. His ego was too sodding big, even when you became as brilliant if not better. Spike wasn’t one to fester about how he had an ego to match his makers – as far as Spike was concerned, he was completely honest about his capabilities. He wouldn’t make that allowance for Angelus though...no ones that good. Not even the bloody scourge of Europe. Wanker.

David frowned but didn't glare at Angelus as he hobbled off into the shadows. Willow heard a door open out of her sight, then more sounds above her on the upper levels. The house for a moment was alive with noise, then virtually silent again. She wondered for a moment how many vampires lived here. "So how's our little captive?" Angelus smirked down at Spike, as he plucked the magazine from his fingers turning it over with a frown of disapproval. Spike snatched at it but Angelus simply held it higher and out of his reach. Spike growled at Angelus's laugh and almost raged to his feet as he saw his sire throw his magazine into the fireplace in the corner of the large hall they were in. "Come on Spike I'm just trying to toughen up that flaccid reputation of yours..."

"And how many slayers have you killed?" Spike hissed, smiling as he knew Angelus had killed none. Willow rolled her eyes, she remembered these little bickers. She'd had some a lot like these...in the third grade. Do boys never mature? It was fine with Xander because he hadn't even reached a score and boys apparently mature slower, but come on after a century or so the maturity thing should have caught on!

"You think I don't see Spike? Why you sort those two slayers you killed...you think I don't know? Spike my boy, I don't have to prove myself to anyone – if a slayer comes after me then fine, I'll snap her in half," Spike couldn't look up at him, the muscles in his cheeks twitching as his sire leant over him, gripping the back of his chair and chuckling slightly. "Whatever are you compensating for by seeking out those big kills? You know what they say about compensation in men...so desperate...so extreme...Is daddy's shadow really that big?" Spike growled slightly and jerked his wheels back distancing himself from his sire. Angelus wasn't amused this time, he didn't chuckle or smile widely, he dismissed his childe as almost boring. His lips quirking in the slightest smirk, he turned from him not really looking anywhere, just not at Spike. "A soap loving slayer groupie...this is what the big bad has been reduced to? When you decide to finally get it up and attempt that whole mutiny thing, which I got to say I’m really looking forward to, I’ll remember to whimper in my terrible fright." Angelus chuckled cruelly as his sweetened sarcasm flowed venomously over his wounded childe. Spike continued to stare at his sire, his jaw was set. Murder painted crudely all over his yellowing iris.

Willow strained her wrists against the rope as she had been doing for God knows how long, she was starting to not feel the pain of the welts on her wrists, the fresh blood leaking out between small grazes and rope burns. When she looked up from her knees Spike was gone. For a moment she searched for him, heard his door close and frowned. Then...where...was....

She felt cool hands on her wrist and automatically tensed, closing her fingers into the palm of her hand she tried to prevent him doing whatever it was he was trying to do.

"Let me help you with these..." Willow gasped as she felt the rope loosen around her hands, she was still pulling on her bounds and almost cooed in surprise when her hands broke free. Instantly she brought them in front of her and cradled them. Her forehead furrowed at how much damage she'd really done. Blood was sticky and dry up her forearms, dribbling down in lines like dried red tears. Angelus moved in front of her, squatting he smiled and took her right hand, rubbing soothingly across the skin on the top of her hand. "Isn't that better?" He whispered. Reluctantly Willow nodded not sure yet what game he was playing. "I can smell your blood from outside...what were you thinking in a house full of vampires? Trying to see how long it takes for one of the fledglings to take a bite..." She was completely tense, surveying him as he continued to soothingly rub her hand. His other hand rose to cup her cheek, lightly brushing her hair back from her throat. "A virgins blood is always perfectly ripe, not having wasted any of its purity and yet matured to the perfect age...." He didn’t further comment and as her cheeks flushed and a crooked half grin creased his face – he knew he didn’t have to.

His hand was now rubbing against her neck softly, tenderly, avoiding any bruising still left behind. Without Willow noticing her head slumped back and her eyes closed, settling into the relaxing sensation he was getting from working two pressure points. "You brought this on yourself, trying to curse me, trying to get away before I gave you permission...in this house, people do what they're told..." Willow was barely registering his words as she struggled to break free of the sinking feeling inside of her. She knew she was falling deep into a trance, and she was fighting to get back to the surface. Whatever she was in felt like quick sand of the mind. The more she fought, the further she sank, and whatever this relaxing white wash was, was ten times better than the reality facing her.

The first pin she felt acutely as he'd intended. She was torn from her manufactured bliss, eyes ripped open, she stared into a glare of piercing hallucinated light. She shrieked as Angelus chuckled, looking down at her hand she saw the reason for the sudden jaw dropping agony shooting up her arm like he'd clipped a jumper clamp on her pulse. She could feel all her veins like they'd been sucked dry and were desperately pulsing for more blood. Tears filled her eyes as she stared at the acupuncture needle through the joint of her finger, right through. There were only the slightest drops of blood around the wound that had her bucking for release. She registered her other hand was still free, and quickly moved it to pull out the offending needle. He was quicker and grabbed her wrist holding it rigidly in the air away from them both.

"Uh-uh...feel it Willow...let your mind go..." He clenched his fingers around her wrist but she could barely feel what otherwise would be pain, almost enough pressure to snap her wrist. Her finger was beginning to throb, she could feel her pulse in the entire digit, her teeth gritted against the pain until she couldn't take it anymore, opening her mouth in an ear drum bursting scream. Angelus smiled at her through the mist of her tears. "Can you feel it? That exquisite clarity? Can you even hear me through it? Oh I know what you're thinking, you're thinking I don't understand...oh but I do...it's how I learned, vampires have this thing for pain...what makes you scream makes me...well...scream..." He chuckled. His thumb ran up the screaming digit in question, pushing lightly on the needle until it bent, that slight pressure pulsing until Willow couldn't even scream. Her face went pale, blood plasma retreating from her cheeks to seek out the wound, her mouth stretched wide in silent agony as she trembled. "This is what we call gutted ecstasy, feelings without inhibition, without conscience, without remorse...that hatred your feeling for me is what you think makes me inhuman...oh no, it’s of basic humanity isn’t it? What I’ve come to learn...what I cleansed from me before those gypsy bitches like you, shoved that soul into me." He pulled on her pinkie, stretching the protesting hinge joint in an unnatural direction as he bent down the acupuncture needle again. Her body convulsed and she made some barely perceptible sound of restrained agony.

He chuckled slightly as tears roared down her twitching cheeks, tears without inhibition, she was no longer scared of him seeing her cry. Her pride had all but vanished. Before she could make her first plea for mercy he yanked the needle out, quickly and cleanly most of the pain was gone. She gasped in surprise, the last tears still falling. Her finger still throbbed slightly but it was nothing. It felt like someone who had been applying their thumbs fiercely to her eye balls had pulled away, a violent blanket tugged and gone. Pain that had been clear and guttural was suddenly swamped with a million other thoughts and agonies, ideas that scorched a path of the future through her mind, a future of hours of this same cruelly inflicted despair. She moaned in sorrow. The world was normal, busy, thoughts ran wild, she felt hatred and fear clogging her mind as she tried to disappear. It didn't work.

She was just about to glare at him when he whispered with a chuckle, "Now feel this..." His mouth closed around the same finger and she flinched back into the seat, jumping enough to make the chair scrape a high pitched squeal against the tile. Angelus' hand wound around her throat again to that same spot and Willow moaned in disgusted surprise as her body was flooded with warmth. Her senses were on defensive alert, easily broken by this attack of sensation they could never have prepared for. Pleasure.

Pleasure coursed through her, red hot and wanting. She felt his tongue lapping at the small drops of blood coming from her wound in a seductive massage, one hand held hers to his mouth, his thumb circling her palm soothingly, the other caressed her neck in a slow seductive rhythm. Her hips began to move of their own volition against the chair and Angelus grinned sliding his blunt teeth gently up the line up her finger - he could smell the musky scent of her desire slowly building in intensity.

With one last roll of his tongue he released her finger, rubbing her neck still with calculatingly cold fingers. He watched her for a moment, making sure she stayed in that belladonic haze. His dark eyes flashed yellow as her tongue ran across her lip - she was in a world of sensation where there are only two colours of the spectrum red and black, she was seeing through his eyes. He liked it much more than he should have. It made him hate her, the fact that she stirred something in him, carnal as it was, she was only a child – and children weren’t allowed to have power. Not in his house.

"I hope you don't end up with arthritis..." He chuckled slightly, moving on to her next finger with sweet caresses, it was almost as if she'd forgotten what he was really doing to her, what she'd been experiencing thirty seconds ago. "See, your synovial joint between your proximal phalanx and your middle phalanx is quite an insignificant part of the human form..I could have broken your sternum...punched your kidneys...bruised your temples...ripped your ovaries from your body...heck I could have punched through your chest cavity and squeezed your heart but you know what?" His hand fell from her neck, white static pulling away until she blinked her eyes in sudden freedom from all manufactured sensation. She looked at him for a moment, blinked again and suddenly lurched back aware of what was coming. "There’s plenty of time for everything...and I've discovered I can make everything hurt like hell!" He plunged the needle in again, holding her finger taut as she began to shake and pull. He grunted at her in disapproval as she wailed. "Come on Willow don't break on me so easily!" He chuckled and she growled, that dark pain stretching up her arm until she felt like she was shrouded in it. He was stabbing her everywhere, the pain clutched at her arteries squeezing the blood until it threatened to burst through her capillaries.

"PLEEAASSE!!" She scream jerking her hand from his. He was holding the pin in place and every time she jerked it cut at her from the inside, grinding against the cartilage inside her joint. "Shhh...shhh...stay still, stay still or you'll end up unable to use your finger!" She didn't want to listen to him, the pain was too much. Was it bone in there? Biology never went into the detailed physiology of her fingers she didn't know what he'd pushed the needle through. All she knew was it DID hurt like hell. But he knew more about this than she did, what if she did do more damage? She stilled biting down on her tongue and surrendering herself to the agony that trembled through her. Her whimpers pleased him as she screwed her eyes shut, falling back on her chair and shaking. Wave after wave of pain rocked her but she only showed it in casual twitches of her arm and upper torso, her eyes screwed shut she tried to draw into herself and ignore the world. She didn't feel it at first as he reached over, swiping a cool tongue to lap at her tears. She thought she'd just sprung a leak and that wet moisture was her eyes gushing uncontrollably. The steady swipe came again and she gulped down tears as if they were running down her throat as well. He nuzzled her sweating forehead for a moment before squatting down again and pulling the needle free.

Her eyes shot open as he tenderly stroked the finger, he was lowering his head toward it ready to take the digit into his mouth. A wail of grief shot through her in realization. Her eyes were red and blotchy as she moved her hand away, clutching it to her chest, "DON'T!!" He chuckled, she was responding in adamant denial to what would take the pain away? He could tell her that, tell her he only wanted to take the pain away but he knew she wouldn't believe him. Clever little thing, she already knew how this worked. Pain was too small a thing. With pleasure combined one fell much further into the chasm of pain from that beautiful summit of ecstasy. That psychological difference was what made pain exquisite. She wanted him to torture her, without those little pauses that had her shuddering, that made her forget. Would he do that? ‘Unlikely’ was a word too generous for the pleasure he was feeling in his choice of torture.

He shot his hand out and she flinched thinking he would slap her but instead he just gripped her neck again, pulsing his palm against her jugular as his fingers stroked that stupid spot at the back of her neck! "No...no...no...please!" Her conscience mind screamed as it was murdered by feeling again! She felt the quick sand come and her arm fell away from the protective grasp of her other hand against her chest, fell limply into her lap, just where he wanted them. This time as she saw herself in her minds eye, clawing at that succulent ground, clawing at mother earth in that white sand - she bucked frantically, desperate to get out and remain cognitive of her fate.

She was hyperventilating in the effort to fight it, Angelus frowned at her, instead of calming down she was fighting a tug of war with her two selves. She wasn't aware of anything. To snap her out of it he reached forward cupping her face. As he moved his hand from her pressure point, Willow saw herself victorious, she saw her hand shoot out of dirt like a reborn vampire, pulling herself free! But his lips were on hers briefly, his cheeks rubbing soothingly across her face. She gasped in surprise eyes darting open, he pressed a little firmer, but still in butterfly caresses, brushing ever so softly against her skin. A tear rolled down her cheek, her hands clenched and then she whimpered again as the pain in her two fingers increased.

His mouth opened above hers, he seemed to have forgotten his plan, his tongue licked her bottom lip tracing the small line before her pried her lips open. Her eyes closed against the onslaught of feeling, her heart clenching in pain - he was a good kisser, she was shaking all over. It wasn't fair, she'd barely even kissed a guy - Oz was such a sweet Gentleman they'd hardly done anything. Angelus heard her whimper and smiled sliding his hand from her cheeks to tangle in her hair as he nipped her lip lightly massaging the back of her scalp. Her body was limp and submissive, but so were most beings dead and alive in his presence so he was used to it. Her body was pliant and he loved that warmth, the omnipresent feeling of blood rushing beneath his finger tips that his extrasensory abilities had him always aware of. He could sometimes see it gushing past her neck, so close to the surface. She was completely still, her jaw slackened but unmoving. It was interesting, kissing someone this passionately when you knew they didn't want you to, and they still weren't doing a thing about it. An interesting feeling, like she was turning her body off. Power was what it was, under the guise of passion he infiltrated and broke her down – enjoying every second of his power to do so.

But just as he was about to pull away and start the torture again her lips moved against his, ever so slightly. He paused opening his eyes a fraction, to gaze at her calm cherub face, tears staining those cheeks. He moved his lips slightly and expertly massaging the line of her lips as he flicked his tongue in between them, he shuddered violently when he felt her tongue stroke tentatively against him. His heart almost hammered in his chest, she was kissing him back. Instinct took over and he pressed hard against her, sliding his hand from her hair down her arm and back up, she shivered pressing back glorying with an absent presence of mind, glorying in that cool metallic taste in his mouth, that warmth slowly filling her. She moaned lightly and it broke his haze, his eyes snapping open as he realized what he'd been doing. He'd been enjoying kissing her, he'd been enjoying kissing a mortal. Not because of a game, or a soul, but because he wanted to. His demon emerged as he pulled back, growling and pushing her away. He only turned his head slightly away before he regained his composure. When he looked back all pretense of desire from her was gone as well, she was shifting in her chair, fear lacing her features. He could hear her heart pounding, the shallow quick pants of her breathing. Half from being ravaged, half from fear. Either she was a good actor or she hadn't enjoyed herself at all - Angelus wasn't really worried about which one it was, only that he was going to cause her pain and lots of it. No one got away with making him feel small and insignificant.

For hours he tortured her, pulling at her senses, stretching them far and wide until she wasn't sure if she was hallucinating, whether he was hurting her with needles or actually throwing her in a quick sand pit to drown in earth. She didn't know where pain began and pleasure ended, he merged them together without pause, he didn't think about her lips again, or the slight pressure that lingered where they'd left. It only incensed him more actually, the lingering whisper in the back of his mind that he wanted to kiss her more than hurt her. NO! He brought her pleasure religiously in those interchanges, swapping pressure points until they became increasingly intimate and she didn't have the sense to realise. He stroked under her knee, the pulse on her wrist, the inside of her thigh with strong firm touches. Until finally he smiled after pulling the last pin free of her thumb joint - she was quivering, her eyes wide and unseeing - absolutely fatigued from the horrible roller coaster he'd forced her on a million times. She was almost numb...almost. To keep her in the game he’d had to drop her further and further, increase the pleasure, increase the pain – now he’d give her it all and see if she was as weak as she made everyone think. He reached between her legs, the residue of her pleasure moments earlier still unbearably present. She lurched with a gasp in shock her eyes closing tight as his feather light stroke caressed her over her panties. She bit her lower lip shaking her head and he chuckled lightly, cruelly. Her legs were straining against her binds, trying to pull up and move against him to increase the pressure.She heard absent whispers echoing around her, mindless laughter that came from nowhere because Angelus was completely focused, only smirking and saying nothing. She was going insane - hearing the walls chanting vilely at her – all the things she knew her friends would say. But she didn't care, incoherent mumbles left her throat while her hands kept throbbing, her pulse alive everywhere. Heat coiled and rattled, her soul cried, her body quaked. "Scream for me..." He whispered against her nose, pecking her lightly, mocking that intimacy in humans. He pushed harder bringing up his other hand to stroke her thigh in intricate firm patterns. She felt a tightening inside herself warm, wet and wonderful it curled in on itself like a rattle snake ready to strike. She was shaking, her sweaty body from torture and pleasure not realizing its future discomfit as he pulled her apart in the best way. He ran his fingers lightly over her again, barely even touching her throbbing clitoris that by now had pebbled and almost pulsed painfully in need.

She gasped out his name and he chuckled then, she heard it echo in different textures, loud and soft, feminine and masculine. Pushing harder and fiercer he gripped her hips that were making small rolling movements, barely perceptible. She threw her head back with a shudder and screamed out loud as the rattling beast inside her finally struck. At the same time Angelus changed to his true form lunging forward as he let her ride that beast inside her to its dark summit, closing his mouth along her jugular and puncturing it through clammy skin. Heat coiled through her blood stream and she shuddered trying to tighten her thighs around his hand as he stroked her, riding out her orgasm. She continued to tremble as he pulled his hand away, tracing it down the inside of her thigh, he stood - the damp liquid leaving a sticking trail down her leg. He continued to suckle on her neck. Vaguely the pulsing sensation from her groin spread through her body to her neck until she could feel first a throbbing pleasure, then her own pulse, then the sharp pain from where he’d punctured her. With one last swipe of the tongue he pulled away from her. Her eyes were clamped shut so she didn’t see the fang filled smug grin, her own blood covering his canines as he stood from his knees before her.Opening her eyes anguish shot across her features, he was walking up to Spike whispering something that caused the Bleached Blonde Vamp to lose his cocky smile. Her lips shuddered as she traced the room, twenty vampires at least were staring at her in part hunger and part amusement. As they registered her pain they burst into fits of giggles laughing and pointing at her. She squirmed ready for the onslaught of tears as guilt and humiliation washed over her in wave after wave but even worse...was as her red, dry eyes gazed across the vampires too amused to leave her, she couldn't cry. Somewhere during the hours that the now bored Angelus had tortured her, she'd run out of tears. He'd bled her, sucked her tear ducts dry and left her with not an ounce of self respect. He’d taken her pride, her purity, her self respect, her privacy, her safety – he’d tarnished everything with his cruel, pasty face forever. And he hadn’t even left her tears. She let the other vampires laughing faces fade out and zeroed in on the silk sliding against his back as he slowly strolled away, through congratulating fans that he didn’t even acknowledge. Her destruction wasn’t even important enough for him to gloat, he left the after math entirely up to her. Her neck wept a bloody trail down onto her borrowed clothes, between her breasts, and she was thankful, knowing from that sticky trail that she was still alive.

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