Feeding HabitsBy Medea
Chapter Three"So you took them to the hospital?" Angel asked, eyes wide in admiration.
"Yup," Willow confirmed, "The physician on duty at the ER said that one of the women had already slipped into a coma and might have died if we hadn't brought her in."
Angel stared at her as she leaned back comfortably against the couch and sipped her lightly-warmed blood. He hadn't wanted to hope for this much, that she would be able to feel compassion for human beings even without her soul. With a gentle smile, and unable to prevent an emotional catch in his voice, he murmured, "Willow...I'm proud of you."
She returned his smile somewhat shyly, and turned her head discreetly to the side when he pulled her into a fierce hug. Gradually they relaxed and lingered in each other's arms, as Willow's fingers traced gentle circles on the nape of Angel's neck. Her adoring ministrations elicited a deep, appreciative rumble within his chest, and although she was tempted to close her eyes and dream of a world without gypsies, Willow forced herself to push away.
Mustering a light-hearted grin, Willow observed, "I'm kinda proud of me, too....Well, except that I can't see myself doing this all the time. I guess I'm still not an equal-opportunity defender of the downtrodden like you are."
"Oh, well, it takes years of practice," Angel huffed self-importantly with a wink.
"Speaking of practice, it's been nearly two weeks since I've done any bona fide hacking. Do you have any cases you need help with?" Willow asked.
"You're staying in tonight?" Angel's surprise was evident in his voice.
"Mm hmm," Willow nodded as she took a sip from her mug, "Last night was good in the I-can-do-this sense, but not so good in the I-can-do-this-on-a-regular-basis sense. I need to come up with some more ideas before I give it another try."
"And Spike hasn't planned another night on the town?" Again, Angel's surprise was clear. After the morning's display, he had worried that Spike planned to whisk Willow away for a little mischief.
"Um, actually...yes," she admitted, "But I told him I couldn't. Spike can be very persuasive. If I went out with him tonight, I'd kill."
Angel's response caught in his throat momentarily. Willow never ceased to amaze him with her determination. "Well, I did plan to go check a source about some recent demon activity," Angel offered, "Would you like to come along?"
"Sure," Willow agreed brightly, "Are we going armed or unarmed?"
"Unarmed. The management doesn't appreciate confrontations that result in property damage," Angel explained.
"Management? What kind of place are we investigating?" Willow squinted at him curiously.
"The place is just *where* we'll be investigating. It's a bar for demons, and a good place to get information," Angel reassured her, before he reached for his own mug of blood and tossed it back in a single gulp. Gesturing toward hers, he suggested, "As soon as you finish up, we can head out."
Willow gulped down the contents of her mug and rose to get some shoes. "So it's not dangerous, then?"
"I don't know if I'd say that," Angel admitted with an ironic grin as he slipped into his leather jacket, "It depends on who's singing tonight."
*****
A demon karaoke bar.
Willow had seen everything now.
She couldn't believe that this was a regular stop on Angel's crime-fighting itinerary. Sure, the motley assortment of demons, vamps, and humans looked to harbor more than a few of the unsavory types who just might provoke one of Cordelia's infamous visions. Indeed, if she hadn't seen the establishment's name, Caritas, outside in neon she would have guessed they were in Rick's Cafe Americain of Casablanca fame, and would have half expected Peter Lorre to come shrieking at them to save him from being hauled away for the murder of two Nazi couriers.
But *karaoke*? She forced herself to stifle a giggle.
And none too soon. The Anagogic demon whom Angel had described to her as the proprietor of the bar, and one of his more reliable sources of information, walked up to them, drink in hand.
He was every bit as flaming as Willow had expected him to be from what she had heard from Angel.
"So this is the one I've been hearing so much about," the jade-skinned demon cooed flamboyantly, "Well, I must say you're a fair sight better than what the cat usually drags into *my* place."
"Uh, thanks...I guess...although it depends on what you've been hearing," Willow confessed, somewhat baffled.
"Oh, scattered tidbits here and there about a rather *nasty* little soiree and the Cinderella who made it to the ball just at the stroke of midnight and danced circles around the ugly step-sisters," the Host offered coyly, "Enough to know that local vampire society is all agog over the Trinity."
"The what?" Angel demanded, just as baffled as Willow.
"Your little family. You, your childe, and the rather unconventional minion they've dubbed the Unholy Spirit," the Host explained, rolling his vermilion eyes as though Angel had failed to see the obvious. "You know, fatherhood *suits* you, Tall-Dark-and-Broody. It's smoothed out the rough edges of your whole Lone Crusader routine."
"Speaking of that..." Willow prompted Angel, amused to discover that she had a reputation but knowing that they had come here for a reason.
"I need to know what you've heard about some Lei-ach demons who have been active in the city recently," said Angel, shifting into investigator mode.
As if he hadn't heard Angel, their green host gestured toward the microphone on stage and asked Willow, "How much coaxing will it take to get you to give us a song, kitten?"
"I don't think so," Willow declined fervently, "We're just here on business."
"Honey, you obviously didn't tell her how things work around here," the Host pursed his lips as he scolded Angel, before turning to Willow and assuring her, "Relax, this is all part of how we do business."
"But I--" Willow protested, but her words were cut short.
"Call it a hunch. Now go on, sing whatever takes your fancy," the Host shooed her along to the stage while he gestured for Angel to sit down with him at a nearby table.
The redheaded minion soon found herself under a spotlight about to act out one of the more petrifying nightmares she had experienced as a human. She was glad that she was no longer burdened with her human fears, although she still felt completely ridiculous. At the cue provided by the first notes of her back-up music, Willow began to sing:
"Jeremiah was a bullfrog..."
The Host nodded and smiled as Willow sang, listening somewhat absently to Angel's questions about the Lei-ach demons.
"There have been a few cases of death among hospital patients in the past week or so in which the victims were found without any bone marrow. I think some Lei-ach demons may have relocated to Los Angeles, but so far I don't have any leads as to where they've set up their den," Angel laid out the facts, hoping it wouldn't be too difficult to get a few clues out of the always-cryptic demon.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, and you're wondering whether or not I know which hospital they've settled at," the Host remarked, still smiling at Willow's serenade, "Sorry, but I can't help you there."
Without warning, the Host let out a chuckle which rapidly escalated into riotous laughter. Reaching into the breast pocket of his smoking jacket, he withdrew a crisp, linen handkerchief and dabbed at the tears that pooled in his eyes. Gradually his cackles subsided and, as though nothing had happened, he continued apprising a very dumbfounded Angel of the situation with the Lei-ach demons.
"The clutch hasn't established itself at any one hospital yet. It's still roaming. But I wouldn't worry about it if I were you."
"Great...just great," Angel muttered, "In case you've forgotten, it's my job to worry about things like this. I need to prevent these demons from killing more people, and from what you're telling me I'll pretty much have to trip over them to find them."
"Hmmmm....not exactly. You won't trip over them, but *she* will," the Host gestured toward Willow, who had finished her song and was walking toward their table. Before she was within earshot, though, the green-skinned demon leaned over to Angel and admonished him in a hushed voice, "Hang onto this one, mister. Treat her right."
Willow slid into a chair across from the two of them and stared pointedly at the Host. "Okay, what was so funny? Was I that bad?"
"Oh, you're absolutely bad, sweetheart, but it has nothing to do with the singing. I just can't wait to see the papers. It is a *pleasure* to have you here. And just when L.A. was getting stale enough to need a little freshening up, too," the suave demon assured her cryptically.
"Huh?" Willow replied, baffled by his vague reference to her behavior.
"Let's just say you're about to become my favorite celebrity," the Host teased as he pushed away from the table and rose to his feet, "But as much fun as the previews have been, there's someone over in the corner who needs a read. I just hope he doesn't plan to *butcher* ABBA like he did the last time."
With an elusive grin, the proprietor of Caritas withdrew and glided across the bar to a rather surly-looking ogre who was sniffling forlornly over a half-empty mug of beer. Willow watched him go, and then turned a befuddled visage toward Angel.
"Is he always like this?" she asked her mentor.
"Unfortunately, yes," Angel affirmed with no small measure of frustration, "But at least he gave me something to go on."
"He told you how to find the Lei-ach demons?" Willow pressed him for the information that the Host had shared during their brief conversation.
"Sort of. He can't point us to a specific hospital, since the clutch hasn't set up a permanent den. But he said that you would find them," Angel explained.
"Me? Angel, the lone investigator thing is your style. I'm research girl, remember?" Willow protested.
"He wouldn't give me any details, Willow. But perhaps you'll find them through your usual research channels. Who knows? His advice has usually been helpful in the past, so I'm willing to wait and see what happens," reasoned the dark vampire. He didn't really like leaving the investigation up to the vague predictions of a clairvoyant demon, but they had little else to go on.
"Hmm..." Willow mused thoughtfully, as she reflected on the odd events of the evening.
"What?" Angel asked, curious about where her thoughts had turned.
"Oh, nothing," she shrugged noncommitally as she fiddled with the ashtray on the table.
"Willow..." her companion warned impatiently.
She grinned mischievously at him. "I guess I just never pictured you in a place like this, let alone relying on it for your investigations. Do you have to sing every time?"
"I don't sing," Angel declared bluntly.
"Then how--?" Willow's protest was cut short.
"I think we're finished here. How would you like to go home for a little bite?" Angel suggested, hastily changing the subject. Unfortunately for his peace of mind, Willow was not so easily daunted.
"Wait a minute," she insisted, "You got to hear me sing. Maybe I'd like to hear you. How about it, Angel?"
"No."
"But--"
"No."
"Just one--"
"No."
*****
It took another thirty minutes of haggling before Angel was able to coax Willow out of Caritas *without* forcing him to step before the microphone and unleash the terror that was his singing voice. However, eventually she agreed to let him off the hook on one condition. And while the condition surprised him somewhat, Angel ended up enjoying himself more than he had in a long time.
At Willow's request, they spent the remaining hours of the night walking through the city and talking with each other.
And not as mentor and protegée, either. There was no discussion of vampire customs and practices, no consideration of weapons or martial arts tactics that might be added to Willow's training routine, and no mention of methods for balancing the remnant of her human personality against her demon.
They simply talked.
Angel found himself delving into memories long buried, dusting off thoughts and ideas that had suffocated beneath the tortured regret and the quest for redemption that had dominated his existence for more decades than he cared to recall. Willow likewise shared freely of herself, and they both warmed to the simple, relaxed companionship as they wandered aimlessly through the streets. They traded jokes, confessed regrets, argued philosophy. They spoke of the sublime and the mundane and everything in between.
The approaching dawn eventually crept into their minds. Reluctantly, the pair made their way back to Angel's car, still parked down the block from Caritas, and drove back to the Hyperion just as the crisp night air was giving way to the first shades of early morning.
A peaceful silence settled between them as they returned to their suite to prepare for the day's sleep. Somehow, their nocturnal stroll had created a sense of intimacy that needed no words. The magic of the mood continued as they undressed for bed, so Angel was hardly surprised when Willow, in lieu of falling into their usual routine when he offered his neck, caressed his cheek tenderly for several moments as she regarded him with a gentle smile. He returned her smile and willingly leaned into her kiss when she brought her soft mouth to his.
Willow nibbled and sucked tenderly at his mouth, slowly persuading him to part his lips. With insistent strokes her tongue insinuated its way into his mouth and began a gentle, unhurried exploration of every crevice. She probed his depths and let her tongue tangle with his in an intimate mating dance. Releasing an intense, sustained passion that nearly left Angel gasping for unneeded breath, Willow kissed him as though she intended her sensual assault on his mouth to last until the sun burned out. And so help him, Angel would willingly have spent eternity letting her do it.
He had never felt her like this.
Keeping her human face, Willow gradually drew her mouth away from Angel's and brushed soft kisses over his chin, across his cheeks, and feather-light on his eyes. Angel sighed beneath her ministrations, aching with the need to devour her, to crush her to him and possess her fiercely. And yet he drank down her persistent gentleness like wine, savoring the sweet torture as she kept their passion at a slow burn.
Inch by deliciously-agonizing inch Willow's tongue drew a trail of fire down the column of his neck, and Angel groaned in anticipation of her bite. With delicate nips of human-blunt teeth and hungry kisses she teased his flesh mercilessly, but her bite never came. Continuing downward, she closed her lips around his flat, male nipple and rolled it gently with soft strokes of her tongue.
Oh...God...
A heady, terrifying shiver ran through his entire frame as the truth dawned on the dark vampire.
She was making love to him.
<*It wasn't the Slayer's opinion that concerned her*>
Spike's words swirled in his mind. As did the image of Spike heading to his room with Willow slung over his shoulder, taunting his sire with his physical claim over her. The rivalry was all too familiar to Angel, for he and his childe had played this game before with Drusilla. But in that situation, the source of Spike's jealousy had been the strength of the insane vampiress's affections for Angelus. And Willow didn't...
Oh God.
She *did*.
<*Hang on to this one, mister. Treat her right.*>
Willow loved him.
The realization nearly made his dead heart beat once more. Her soft caresses, her kisses that warmed without consuming, her body teasing his, rather than conquering it...it was almost more than he could bear. The differences were subtle, almost as imperceptible as the slow unfolding of a rose's petals. Yet the effect was just as stunning. For one ominous moment, Angel desperately wanted to accept everything she was offering him and lose himself utterly in making love to her.
But it was the knowledge of how permanently he could indeed *lose* himself that won out. He had to seek the shelter of physical passion. And as skillfully as Willow had set the tempo of their lovemaking, Angel had a two-hundred-year advantage over her as a lover.
Caressing either side of her head with his hands as she continued to nurse his stiffened nipples, Angel gently but firmly drew her back up until he was able to capture her mouth with his. Letting his fangs drop, he ran his tongue over the sharpened points, instantly drawing blood. He felt her quiver in response as he thrust his tongue into her mouth and offered her the rich, coppery elixir. When the first taste of him hit her senses, she let out a low, guttural moan of raw need and sank her own fangs into his lip, craving more. At that point, Angel knew that the immediate danger had passed. This was no longer an act of love, but the satiation of a hunger as ancient as their kind.
Willow was a tempest unleashed. She clawed at his broad shoulders as she bit her way down his neck from his mouth. Pushing him forcefully against the mattress, she straddled his chest like a lioness subduing her prey and latched onto his jugular with her fangs. Angel responded with an equally primal display, knowing that substituting raw, physical ardor for love would safeguard them both. He scratched his nails down her smooth back and over the feminine swell of her hips, leaving thin, red welts in their wake. He kneaded the soft, pliable flesh of her bottom with his hands, occasionally allowing his fingers to brush teasingly against her exposed, moist folds. Each stray intimate contact was met with an impatient growl from Willow, signaling to Angel that she was primed for his next assault.
Taking a page from his demonic alter-ego, Angel abruptly shoved Willow off of his chest. Startled, she landed on her back at the foot of the bed. Before she had the chance to emit a snarl of protest Angel pinned her arms above her head and drove into her with such might that the bed beneath them shook. Willow moaned her approval at his forceful invasion, but her moans soon gave way to delighted yelps when Angel pierced his fangs repeatedly into the tender flesh of her arms, still immobilized above her head by his vise-like grip. Like a tattoo artist's needle, his bites left her skin burning with delirious, agonizing pleasure.
As their hips thrust in synchrony, building them both steadily to rapture, Angel offered his throat once more to Willow. Eagerly, she bit into him and drew his blood into her mouth. The sensation was enough to send both of them into a frenzy, and within moments they were shuddering in violent release.
Gradually the intensity of their climax diminished and Angel released Willow's arms, rolling her with him into a tight embrace as they rested side by side. Willow clutched possessively at his arms as she soothed the wounds in his neck with her tongue, eliciting a purr of contentment from her lover.
They lay together for a while longer, caressing each other in silence, until Angel reluctantly steeled himself to confront Willow about what had nearly happened. He hated to ruin the moment, but this was too important to dismiss.
"Willow...we need to talk," Angel murmured gently.
She closed her eyes briefly in denial before looking up at him guiltily and sighing, "Yeah...we do."
"What you did was incredible, Willow. You don't know how long it's been since I've felt anything like that," Angel began as he tenderly brushed his knuckles against her cheek, "But it was also dangerous. Too dangerous for me to let you continue."
"I'm sorry," Willow whispered with genuine regret.
"Don't be -- not for wanting that. *I'm* sorry that I can't give you what you want. I only wish that you'd told me," Angel assured her.
Willow lowered her eyes once more and bit her lip. "I was afraid of ruining what we do have. I thought it would be better just to be happy with that..."
"I know," Angel affirmed. Gently raising her chin with his fingers, the dark vampire compelled her to meet his gaze as he asked her in a hushed voice, "Please say it for me. Just once."
The simple, heartfelt request made Willow tremble. Seeing her own turbulent emotions reflected in Angel's eyes, she confessed, "I love you, Angel."
He answered her with a soft, deep kiss.
But he couldn't repeat the same words to her. He wanted to.
God, how he wanted to.
But it would be cruel to provoke her with hopes that, thanks to a vengeful gypsy clan, could never be realized.
Willow's lips were still tingling from his ministrations when Angel began his sorrowful explanation:
"Willow, I care about you too much to let myself love you. When I took you under my protection, I made a commitment to ensure your safety. This includes protecting you from *myself*. What you offered tonight...you have no idea how much I want the same thing. It's probably one of the bitterest consequences of my curse."
"What do you mean?" Willow asked.
Although it pained him to confront what would forever be denied him, Angel laid bare to her the full irony of his punishment. "In life, I never knew love. I couldn't have cared less that there might be something more than physical pleasure to be shared with a woman. Then, when I was turned, all a woman was good for was sex and a satisfying meal. It took being cursed with my soul and meeting Buffy for me to learn how much more powerful, profound and intoxicating it was to make love to a woman as an equal, with heart and soul and mind, not just my body. And the instant I realized the full depth of what had been missing from my existence, and how much I wanted it...I lost it all. Worst of all, I lost any hope of sharing that feeling with anyone ever again."
Certainly, the basics of Angel's curse were known to her, but it still cut at Willow to hear him express his sense of loss so earnestly. She clung tightly to him as they buried their faces against each other's shoulders. His next words, whispered sadly across her skin, summoned the sting of tears to her eyes.
"Willow...I'd give anything not to have to ask you this...but please don't try to make love to me again. It's not that I question my ability to stop before things get too risky. It just hurts to have to stop. I'd rather not have to think about what I can't have."
At that moment, Willow felt the weight of his curse as if it were her own. From the beginning of her existence as a vampire, Angel had been her strength, never wavering in his support. Yet now he revealed his vulnerability without shame, asking her to spare him from pain.
Allowing the tears to spill freely down her cheeks until they flowed onto Angel's shoulder, she murmured numbly, "I promise."
*****
When they awoke the following evening, Angel and Willow spent a few moments nuzzling each other tenderly as they sought to soothe away the hollow emptiness that lingered after the early morning's emotional confessions. In time, they knew, the ache would fade. But the next few days would be difficult.
Eventually, Willow raised herself up on one elbow and, tracing light patterns on Angel's chest with her fingers, asked, "I really liked talking to you during our walk last night. Could we still do that, every now and then?"
Angel smiled wistfully at her and said, "Absolutely."
Willow joined him in smiling briefly before resignation settled across her features and she sighed, "I should probably go. I need to go. Out, that is. I need to go out...I mean...I need to walk around for awhile. And think...."
"I know," Angel agreed, "I think I might stay in and give the punching bag a good workout. Pounding something repeatedly for hours sounds very appealing right now."
Willow chuckled, "I'll warn Spike to stay out of your way."
There was something comforting in slipping into their mundane nightly routine, as Willow performed her rejuvenating spell while Angel dressed and prepared two servings of blood. Soon she was headed out into the night, leaving Angel to descend to the dojo for some therapeutic pummeling.
Thus it was that Spike found him a few hours later, doggedly slamming his fists into the punching bag.
"What the hell did you say to our little minion, Angel?" the blond vampire demanded angrily. "I found her wandering the streets like a ghost, and I could barely get three words out of her. Said she needed to be alone."
Angel halted his onslaught wearily and rebuked his childe. "You might have said something, Spike."
Spike was about to protest that Willow didn't want to talk when he realized what Angel meant. Looking away uncomfortably he muttered, "Didn't see the need, really. I knew you'd figure it out eventually. So... that explains what's bothering Willow."
Angel nodded. "It was awkward. And painful. I wish I could have spared her, but then that's the joy of being cursed. Nothing is spared..."
"Bloody hell...Peaches--" Spike began before Angel silenced him by raising his hand.
"What's done is done. But there is something you can still do for me," Angel stated calmly.
"Which is what?" Spike prompted.
"Stop the games. Neither one of us needs to re-live Drusilla -- and Willow certainly doesn't deserve to be in the middle of that. I'm not your rival this time. If you can give Willow what she needs, do it, with my blessing. She should be happy," Angel explained.
Spike clenched his jaw. A long time ago he might have exulted in a moment like this. After enduring the torture of seeing his beloved Dark Goddess yearn for Angelus, it had been one of Spike's greatest fantasies to inflict the same pain on his sire by stealing the affections of someone who haunted *his* passions. Now it seemed a bitter victory. Though they still quarreled frequently, most often over Willow, ever since they had reconciled and renewed their claims as sire and childe he couldn't feel any joy over the dark vampire's anguish.
Indeed, at that very instant the love Spike felt for his sire was almost painful. For this very same love had been the source of their longstanding competition, whether for Drusilla's affections or anything whatsoever.
"I'll give Willow more than she could possibly dream of," Spike declared, his voice thick with passion. "But the rivalry...that was never about Dru."
"I know," Angel agreed, "It was about us."
The blonde vampire's jaw clenched tightly. "You couldn't do it for us...for me...but you could do it for the bloody Slayer."
Angel furrowed his brow, too confused by his childe's remark to reply.
"You left me. Didn't even give me a chance. Darla might've chased you off because of the soul, but you never stopped to think that I might want you, soul or no soul." Spike continued, "You wouldn't stand up to her for me or Dru...but you staked her for the Slayer."
The dark vampire was dumbfounded. He knew he had abandoned his childe, but Spike had never been willing to admit how deeply it had hurt him. Angel felt sick.
"A whole fucking century, and nothing..." the blond vampire hissed painfully.
"Dammit, Spike...it's hard, with the soul...decisions aren't always easy to make," Angel softly voiced his regret.
"Learned that the hard way, mate," Spike acknowledged ruefully, "Willow won't be another Dru. I want her. Want to possess every tasty inch of her. But you're here now. Don't need to use her to get back at you, to remind you what it means to care for your own."
Angel stood, paralyzed by his childe's revelation. Spike strode up to him and grasped his sire's hands, guiding them to his own hips. Reaching up to cup the nape of Angel's neck, Spike drew the dark vampire's mouth to his in a deep, urgent kiss. It only took a few moments for Angel to respond, but when he did Spike shuddered at the bruising force of his sire's mouth.
Despite the passion, however, the blond vampire could still feel his sire's sorrow. At having abandoned his childe, and at having to disappoint Willow. Spike knew that his sire desperately needed a release. He resolved to alleviate Angel's frustration, and console his sometimes-lover, sometimes-enemy, the only way he knew how.
"Are you sure that's all I can do for you?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion and his eyes burning deeply into his sire's.
Angel's eyes widened momentarily as they reflected a myriad of feelings. Surprise. Gratitude. Restless desire. But most of all, frustration seeking release. His gaze flickered amber as he realized what his childe was offering him.
And Spike did not disappoint. Dispensing with the prelude, he delivered a savage, back-handed blow to Angel's cheek. The force of the impact snapped the elder vampire's head to the side. Spike followed with a punch to the gut so powerful that it brought Angel's demon to the fore. When Spike hurled a third blow at his sire, Angel trapped his fist in an iron grip and retaliated with a punch of his own.
From then on, they matched each other in an urgent, cathartic battle. Spike knew that nothing could ease the suffering of Angel's soul. Hell, that had been the bloody point when the damned gypsies had cursed him with it: torment without respite. But at least Spike could give his sire the temporary oblivion of violence, of physical pain that would sate the demon and distract him from the soul's torture, if only for a little while.
It was only when Willow returned that they parted, battered and bloody. Wincing at the soreness that enveloped his entire body, Angel pulled Spike against him roughly and bestowed upon his childe a fierce kiss, silently thanking him. Spike returned his passion measure for measure before withdrawing himself gently from his sire's embrace. With a final, understanding look, he turned toward the corridor to seek out their redheaded companion.
It was understood that it would be Spike who would share her company for the next few nights.