Then & Now

By KallieRose

One

The first rays of the morning sun streamed through the window, waking the small redhead in the twin bed. Willow peered at the window, her eyes scrunching in an attempt to dim the stark intensity of the bright light. She had always loved mornings, but over the last couple of years she had discovered new reasons for welcoming them: they signaled the end of the night; the end of the darkness.

And this morning, more than ever before, she was grateful that the sun was shining. Because last night her friend Angel had tried to kill her.

Oh, she knew that he wasn't Angel anymore. She had read the Watchers Diaries, knew about the curse, and all that went with it. And now, thanks to Buffy, the curse was lifted off of Angel's shoulders, and settled firmly onto the rest of them. They were cursed with the knowledge that someone who had once been a friend, was now a mortal enemy, intent on torturing and killing them all. The weight of it was like a hand squeezing her chest, leaving a constant hurt and a lingering fear.

She shivered slightly, her body closing in upon itself, as she thought about the way that he'd held her last night. The words that he'd said aloud echoed in her mind: how her fear was such a turn-on. And then the words he had whispered seductively in her ear, right before he had faded into the darkness: 'I'll be back for you later, my little flame. Be ready.'

Nobody knew about that last bit. In their struggle to get her away from Angel--Angelus, she reminded herself sharply, they had failed to notice the look of stunned horror on her face. Or maybe they had noticed it, but just chalked it up as a reaction to what she had just experienced. It certainly was fitting. Either way, they were oblivious. And that suited Willow just fine. Everyone had much worse things to worry about than Angelus' attempts to scare her.

Willow was certain that that was all it was, too. Angelus was playing a game, attempting to hurt Buffy any way he could. She just happened to be a convenient pawn; in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was the story of her life.

And on top of everything else, today was a school day.
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Willow watched from behind her computer as Buffy entered the library. The day had been hectic, and she and Buffy hadn't had a chance to talk privately at all. Now, as the school emptied out after a long day, they would finally have a chance to reconnect and talk.

Her eyes widened as she took in her friend's appearance. Everything about Buffy screamed 'devastated.' She slouched into the room, moving listlessly and without purpose. Her usually bright eyes were dull and lifeless, and rimmed with red, as if she'd shed many tears during the night.

'Poor Buffy,' Willow thought. As bad as things were for the rest of them, it was even worse for the slayer. The man that she loved was gone forever, destroyed by her and the manifestation of their love. Buffy stopped in the center of the room, eyes roaming restlessly, looking for who knew what. Willow got up and enveloped her friend a hug, whispering words of comfort to her as the blond broke down and cried in her arms.

"That's it, let it all out," Willow advised comfortingly, as she led Buffy to the chair next to hers. Giles and Xander were nowhere to be found, so it was just the two of them. Cordelia had mentioned something about 'coming by later to check on the losers,' but Willow hadn't taken that as a firm commitment, and doubted that the popular cheerleader would join them any time soon.

"What am I going to do, Willow?" the hopeless girl asked. "He's gone, he's really gone. And it's all my fault. Well, not *all* my fault. Ms. Callendar has a lot to answer for," she said, her mood changing quickly from sadness to self-righteous anger. "I can't believe she lied to us all, making us think that she was our friend when all the while she was spying on us."

Willow knew that her friend and her mentor would not be getting along anytime soon. And although Ms. Callendar had kept some rather big and important secrets from them, Willow didn't think she had done it out of spitefulness. She had just been torn between her duty to her family and her new friends. The young teacher was miserable right now, and Willow did feel a little sorry for her.

"Buffy," she said gently, "Ms. Callendar made a mistake. Admittedly, a really really big mistake. And I know that it's going to take you some time to forgive her, and that's certainly understandable. But she wants to help us, and we really do need her help right now."

But her words fell on deaf ears. Buffy wanted nothing to do with the young gypsy, and she minced no words in letting Willow know her position. "If she steps one foot into this library, I will take her down myself," she threatened angrily, her hazel eyes flashing with fury. "Her kind of help we don't need!"

Willow sat back in her chair, a little surprised by the vehemence of Buffy's words. She knew that her friend was feeling angry and betrayed right now, but the fact that she would jeopardize all of their safety just to further her vendetta seemed wrong. Time to change the subject, she decided, but Buffy beat her to it.

"Do you know where Giles is? He was going to tell me about that uninvite spell. We really need to get that cast. When I think about what that bastard could do to me, or to mom..." Buffy broke off then, her eyes tearing up again.

The redhead was a little nervous about that herself. The others didn't seem to realize it, but she had invited Angel into her house at one time, back when Buffy's 'friend' Ford was in town. She hadn't wanted to bring the matter up, since Buffy and Giles had enough on their minds as it was, without having to worry about Willow as well. But she certainly would feel better once that uninvite spell was safely in place.

"He actually found a spell, and I've been working out the kinks on it, while he went to gather the ingredients," Willow answered eagerly. "I think he was also going to check out some other sources and see if he could find any information on a re-souling spell." She hadn't planned on admitting that to Buffy, not wanting to get her friend's hopes up, but seeing her so down and despondent had just torn Willow's heart to pieces.

"Really? He thinks he might have a lead?" Buffy asked, hope leaping into her eyes. "Oh Willow, if he could find that..." and then her eyes turned hopeless again, as if someone had flipped a switch.

"What is it?" Willow asked gently.

"Well, even if we can re-curse him, it'll never be the same for us. We could never--well, you know. Not without him losing his soul again. My life is over," the slayer cried, burying her head in her arms and giving way to her tears once again.

Willow thought about pointing out that there were still some benefits to be had from re-cursing Angel, but she bit her tongue. Her friend was hurting, and as a result, she wasn't really seeing the big picture. But that was okay.

The doors to the library opened and Xander walked in. His hair looked disheveled, his lips red and puffy. Willow wondered for a moment what had happened to him, but then put the thought aside. She'd ask him about it later.

Willow watched as the young man looked at the scene before him with some confusion: Buffy crying, and her eyeing him curiously, while trying to comfort their friend.

"Hey," he said softly, shuffling from foot to foot and looking decidedly uncomfortable. Willow knew that he had never been any good with crying females. She suspected that that was one of the reasons he liked her: because when she was sad, she'd hide the tears and not let anyone know that she was hurting.

"Hey Xan," Willow replied, using her hands and her face to convey to Xander her helplessness when it came to helping their friend.

The young man was saved from replying by Giles' return, his usually stoic face alight with excitement.

"I believe I've got everything we need for the uninvite spell, Willow. Were you able to make the necessary corrections on your computer?"

"Yes, I think I've covered it. Can you come over here and look?" Willow moved away from the computer, giving Giles the opportunity to peruse the document in question. The spell seemed pretty simple - just chant some words, burn some smelly herbs, and poof, it was once again a vamp-free zone. Considering their current predicament, it would be best to perform the ritual everywhere it needed to be done, tonight.

The watcher read the words on the screen, searching for errors or omissions and finding none. "Well done, Willow," he congratulated, watching her face suffuse with joy at the simple words of praise.

"Thanks," came her quiet reply. "I think we can do this at Buffy's house first, and then we could do it at my house next. If we leave right now, we should be able to complete it all before nightfall."

"Your house?" Buffy asked sharply, her watery eyes fixing onto Willow's form. "Why do we need to do your house, Willow?" The beginnings of jealousy began to burn in her hazel eyes.

"Well, I kind of invited him in once," Willow said, casting her eyes down towards the table in embarrassment. She held up a hand, hoping to forestall the questions that the others were sure to ask. "It was when Angel needed information about Ford, and he came to my room. In hindsight, inviting him in doesn't seem that smart," she added softly, "But honestly, how could I have known what was going to happen?"

"Truly, none of us could have foreseen the events that have occurred," Giles agreed.

"Fine," Buffy snapped. "We'll do my house first, and then Willow's. And then maybe tonight I can actually get some sleep."

Willow looked at Buffy curiously. The blonde seemed to be angry with her, but Willow wasn't sure why. Was she jealous that Angel had gone to her for help? But that was ridiculous. They were all friends - they helped each other whenever one of them needed something. She shrugged, figuring that her friend was still just a little touchy from the events of the previous night. After all, it couldn't be easy to discover that sex with your boyfriend would turn him into a homicidal maniac.

Two

Willow was deep within her studies of ancient Chinese culture when she heard a steady tapping at her door. The sound startled her, making her body jump slightly, as her head turned quickly towards the source of the noise. Her thin yellow curtains were closed, but she could still make out a tall figure standing on her balcony, knocking steadily at the window of the French door.

Xander and Jessie used to do that, she remembered fondly, back when they were young and she was forbidden to have boys in her room. As a result, both youths had learned to climb her trellis, knocking on her door until she opened it. Many a late-night meeting took place on the balcony; nights when they had shared their fears, their hopes, and their disappointments.

Jessie was in the past now, she reminded herself with a sad smile. She missed her goofy friend, a friend who had always been there for her through thick and thin. Some nights she still dreamed of him, and woke up in the morning, eager to tell him about it. Then the sad reality would come crashing back down on her, and she would remember that she would never be able to tell him anything ever again. Well, not face-to-face, at any rate. She still visited his gravesite often, telling the gravestone, which was all she had to remember him by, all about the changes in her life and her world. She and Xander sometimes went together, but it was so hard on her friend that she didn't always invite him.

Now she had Buffy, and even though the slayer was a good friend to her, she still missed Jessie. They had so many years of history together, and she wondered if she and Buffy would ever have the kind of closeness that comes from knowing someone for so long that they're almost a part of you.

The tapping at her door was growing more insistent, and Willow shook herself from her melancholy and went to the door. The sheer curtains opened at her touch, revealing to her the face of a fallen Angel smirking at her.

She jumped back from the door as if its touch had scalded her, her eyes glued to Angelus' face. He was laughing openly at her now, his narrow smirk suddenly widening to an all-out grin. Her expression turned cloudy as she watched him from a distance.

Seeing the beginnings of anger stirring in her sharp eyes, Angelus' lips straightened and he wiped all traces of mirth from his face. "Let me in, little flame," he purred, the sound of his voice just reaching her straining ears through the thin door. He smiled at her, giving her a look that oozed sex and promised pleasure. His chocolate eyes seemed to melt as they met hers, and it was all Willow could do to keep from following his instructions.

Her mind, ever vigilant, reminded her that regardless of how sexy he looked, he was still violent and psychopathic, not to mention evil. Definitely evil. The whispered "No," left her lips, and he frowned slightly at the knowledge that she had refused him, and all he had to offer her.

"I'm not asking you, Willow," he said, letting a small hint of anger and impatience enter his voice. "Open this door, or we can have this conversation through it." He leaned casually to the side, arms folded comfortably across his chest. Her eyes tried not to notice the way his black leather pants clung to his hips, covering them like a second skin, or the way that the red silk shirt he wore accentuated his pale complexion, bringing out his warm brown eyes.

She took two steps towards him without even realizing it, so deeply under his spell that she seemed incapable of stopping herself. Reaching out with a shaking arm, she slowly opened the door inward, standing back and watching the smug smile that flowed across his face.

Angelus stepped forward to enter the room but was stopped short when he hit the invisible barrier that protected the room and its occupant. Handsome lips curled back into a snarl, and eyes that were previously warm and soft turned suddenly hard and cold.

"What did you do, my little flame?" he snarled furiously, trying again to enter the room, but without success. His frustration at being kept from his victim was a palpable thing, thick and heavy in the air.

His angry words pulled Willow from her daze, and she stepped back away from the door, her body closing in on itself in terror as she realized just how close she had come to being yet another of Angelus' countless victims.

"A..it's a spell," she whispered timidly, watching uneasily as the expression on Angelus' face changed from an angry sneer to a crafty smile. Angelus smiling could not be a good thing, she reminded herself, and she wondered what he was up to now.

"That's fine, Willow," he whispered softly, smiling again as she inched forward to hear his words. "I'll just go visit Buffy then. I'm sure she'll be a bit more...welcoming."

Willow flinched at the malice in his voice, his unspoken threat quite clear to the redhead. But she had one piece of information that he wasn't aware of, and the knowledge brought the ghost of a smile to her lips. "You can try, Angelus," she said softly, eyes downcast. "But you won't get any further there than you did here. Don't you think if I knew a spell like this, her house would be the first place I'd cast it?"

The honesty in her eyes convinced the vampire that she was telling the truth, and a soft snarl passed his lips as he glared at her. "Some day soon I'll find a way around your inconvenient spell, little flame. And I promise you, when that day comes, you will be the first person I come to visit."

Shrinking back from the intensity of his gaze, Willow gulped audibly and tried to calm the fear that raced through her body like a wildfire. False bravado made her threaten him the only way she knew how. "Buffy would never let you hurt me!" she insisted.

He laughed uproariously, finding her threat less than threatening. "Oh, don't worry my little flame, I would never hurt you. Not unless you begged me to," he added with a smirk.

He gave her a long, searching look, as if attempting to see into her soul, and then in one fluid move the dark vampire turned and leapt to the ground below the balcony. Willow ran to the door, careful to stay just inside the house, and watched Angelus cross the street and disappear into the inky black night.

Three

"Any Angelus-shaped problems last night?" Xander asked Buffy, watching as the blonde shook her head happily. Buffy seemed much more relaxed today, Willow decided, as she watched her friend from across the library table. Sure, the haunted look still peeked out from her eyes occasionally, but she no longer had that listless, hopeless edge to her voice; her eyes, although still rimmed with red, were no longer empty and dull.

Willow was glad that Angelus obviously hadn't made good on his threat to visit Buffy. The redhead just didn't know if she could take another day of watching Buffy slowly fade away. Although she did suspect that her friend would be more than a little upset when she learned about Willow's late-night visitor.

"Did anyone else have any problems of the-er vampire variety last night?" Giles asked, leaving the quiet and comfort of his office to join the children he was quickly beginning to think of as his own. Heaven knew that most of their parents were oblivious; someone had to take care of them.

None of the students answered in the affirmative, but Willow, who had remained silent, appeared to have something that she needed to say. As he watched, she shifted uneasily in her chair, her eyes darting away from his as if afraid that he would guess her secret.

"Willow?" he prodded.

He smiled slightly at the startled look on her face. "What happened last night? Did you have a visit from Angelus?"

Buffy frowned at the question, her eyes focusing on Willow. "Why would he bother Willow?" she asked, confused and hurt. "He doesn't care about her!"

Giles had to smother a smile as Willow practically danced in her chair in an effort to escape her friend's eyes. "He did come to visit you, didn't he?" the librarian asked gently, giving the young woman a comforting look.

"Yeah," she confessed, "Sorry Buffy. I mean, not that's my fault or anything. I really didn't do anything to encourage him. I promise! It's just that I was studying, and he was there at the door, and I accidentally opened it--"

"You opened it?!" Xander yelled.

"Well I think we can assume that since Willow is still sitting here with us, that the uninvite spell worked successfully. Correct?" Giles asked, his hands moving in a shushing motion when he saw that Xander was ready to break into another round of admonitions to the rather dispirited redhead.

"Yes, it worked," she answered quietly, seeming to get smaller and smaller before his very eyes. The poor girl looked positively miserable.

"I didn't mean to open it!" the words burst from her mouth, drawing their attention back to her. "But he was talking, and it was almost like I was under some kind of spell."

"I knew it! You always had a thing for Angel," Buffy accused. "And now that he's Angelus you think you have a chance with him. That's it, isn't it?"

They all looked at the blonde in horror, amazed that she would say something so silly and cruel.

Xander was the first to speak, and it had obviously taken a concerted effort on his part to reign in his anger. "Buffy, your pet vampire is a psychopath who tried to break into her house and would have KILLED her if it wasn't for that uninvite spell. I don't think she was encouraging him. Hell, if she had, she'd be DEAD by now," he said angrily. "If you and Angel hadn't played 'hide the salami' then none of this would even be happening!"

Buffy looked a bit contrite, although she still obviously had misgivings about Willow's motives.

"You can't think that I would ever do that to you," Willow told her, her green eyes filled with hurt and betrayal. Tears threatened to spill, but she kept it all under control. Just barely. "You're terribly upset. I get that, I really do," she added. "But it really hurts that you would think I could ever do something like that to you. You're my friend, ya know?"

Buffy contemplated the tears in Willow's eyes and the obvious sincerity of her words and relented a bit. "Sorry Will. Guess I'm just a little out of control."

It wasn't much of an apology, as apologies go, but Willow accepted it in hopes that the whole situation could be swept under the rug. She saw the frown that was forming on Giles' face and tried to steer the conversation back onto safer ground. "So what's our next step, Giles? Have you come any closer to finding a re-souling spell?"

"Why bother re-souling the bastard? Why not just dust him and move on?" Xander's comments brought fresh tears to Buffy's eyes, and Willow and Giles shot him twin glares of annoyance. Why couldn't he just learn to keep his mouth shut?

Giles cleared his throat, bringing their attention back to him. "I haven't had much luck yet with the re-souling spell," he admitted. His eyes wandered to Buffy's face, and he gauged her reaction to his next words: "If we were to contact the gypsies perhaps we would have a little more-"

"NO!" Buffy yelled, jumping up and running over to look Giles in the eye. "That bitch is the one responsible for this mess in the first place. Her and the rest of the gypsies. If it wasn't for them, I'd be with Angel right now."

"Buffy," Xander began, hoping to make her see that it was time to put aside petty grievances and concentrate on the big picture.

"Don't say it, Xander," she bit out angrily, her gaze at the young man harsh and cold. "We can do this without their help. Without HER help," she insisted. "Willow and Giles can research and they'll find out how to do it."

"And in the meantime, how many people will die Buffy?" Xander countered angrily. "Don't forget that you're not his only target. Even now, he's killing innocent people. Maybe you should be thinking about that, and not some stupid grudge."

He watched sadly as the slayer seemed to close in upon herself, her face crumpling and tears falling from her eyes. "Fine, do whatever the hell you want. Just don't let me see that gypsy bitch or I *will* hurt her," Buffy said angrily. She turned and ran from the room, leaving a shocked and silent group behind her.

The three remaining occupants of the room looked sadly at the door, hope springing briefly into their eyes as it opened again. But it was only Cordelia, and again their sadness returned.

"What, no hello, no 'how's it going Cordy'" she asked snappily. "I mean, I know that the social niceties are beyond some of you," she added, giving Willow a spiteful look, "But I thought maybe a 'hello' wouldn't be too much to ask."

First Buffy accused her of trying to steal Angel from her, and now Cordelia was taking cheap shots at her. It was more than Willow could take. She walked from the room without a word, head held high and eyes clear. Home was the place to be right now; she craved the safety and comfort it provided. Although her parents would not be there waiting for her, eager for a report of her day, at least she could cry there without having anyone bother her. And right now, that was just what she wanted to do.

Four

It was late afternoon; the sun had just set and long shadows began to wreath the streets. Willow headed eagerly towards the library to do some studying-slash-research. Although finals were not far away, she knew that looking for a spell to help Angel was just as important, if not more so. As a result, her time was spent split between the two tasks, without making significant progress on either one, truth be told.

Willow's night had been quiet and without interruptions, which was a cause for some relief. She had been concerned that a certain soul-less vampire would pay her another visit, but those fears had been unfounded. Perhaps he had decided to go torment Buffy this time, she thought bitterly, still slightly stung by her friend's cruel accusations the day before.

Best to push negative Buffy-type thoughts out of her mind, she reminded herself. They had a problem to fix: Angelus, and the re-souling of said vampire. She knew that Ms. Callendar would be able to find something to help. Her faith in her mentor was strong, and even though Buffy did not want any contact with the computer teacher, Willow knew that it was in all of their best interests to forgive and forget, and hope, perhaps even pray, that the gypsy would have the key to solving their problem.

'Poor Giles,' she thought sadly, as she pushed open the doors of her school. He had been falling for the teacher - she was certain of it. All the signs had been there. The cute little way he took off his glasses and polished busily whenever her name was brought up, the slight stutter to his words every time he talked to her. And the way he had even gone to a monster truck rally, simply because she had asked him to. Yep, it had to be serious.

And then the past had come to rear its ugly head, and Ms. Callendar's secret had come out in the open for all to see.

Buffy would never forgive Giles if he continued his relationship with her. Then again, with the level of betrayal that Giles was feeling right now, that really didn't appear to be much of a problem. But Willow knew that Ms. Callendar still cared deeply for Giles, and he for her, despite his current feelings of betrayal. If only her mentor could come up with a solution to the re-souling issue. Then Buffy would relent, and Giles would forgive her, and they could all be happy again. Well, as close to happy as anyone ever was here, she reminded herself.

Her steps quickened as she closed in on the library door, but something from the conversation within caught her attention, stilling her movements and making her pause for a moment just outside the door.

"You're going to have to tell Willow sooner or later," the voice said reprovingly. It was Giles, she realized, the cool, crisp English voice laced with disapproval.

Willow knew that eavesdropping was wrong. Her mother in particular had cautioned her about it, reminding her of the old adage about people who eavesdrop never hearing anything good about themselves, or something like that. But the words Giles spoke, and the way that he said them, tempted Willow beyond her capacity to say no. Obviously her friends were keeping something from her, and whatever it was, she had a right to know. At least that was how she rationalized her gross breach of etiquette in her mind.

"I know, I know," this time Xander's voice was the one she heard. "And I will tell her soon. It's just...well, so much is going on, and I don't want her to feel like I'm not here for her or anything."

"Oh, for god's sake," Cordelia's voice now, and she sounded a little ticked off. Why was she sounding ticked off? "I'm your girlfriend, NOT her. You should be worrying about being here for me!"

Cordelia was whose girlfriend? Xander's girlfriend? Who else was in that room? If only there was some way to peer around the door without being seen. But the next words she heard, Buffy's words, turned her cold. "Well I told you, she's been in love with you for like, forever, Xander. I'm all for letting her down easy and everything, but the longer you wait, the better the chances are that she'll hear it somewhere else first."

Oh no, it was true. Xander and Cordelia were - TOGETHER. And everyone seemed to know about it except her.

Her mind flew back to the previous day, and Xander's slightly unusual appearance. The mussed hair and puffy lips suddenly made sense now. He had been with Cordelia somewhere. Kissing. And who knew what else.

Buffy's damning words kept ringing in her ears: 'I told you she's been in love with you forever.' How could Buffy have betrayed her like that? Humiliated her like that? And Xander...he was dating the one person in the world she actually hated. She had tried hard not to hate Cordelia, but every attempt at friendship had been rebuffed and punished with cruelty. Xander *knew* this. And still he chose to date Cordelia. He'd rather be with someone like that than with her.

The pain that came with that knowledge was a palpable thing, squeezing her heart and bringing bitter tears to her eyes. She needed to be gone. Wanted to be home so badly that she could taste it. Home where she could be alone in peace; cry her eyes out in peace for the loss of the first love she had ever had.

Without a word to those inside the library, she turned and ran blindly down the hall and out the doors, not stopping for breath until she was blocks from the school and the betrayal of her friends. She barely made it home before the tears that had threatened to overwhelm her began to flow freely from her eyes. In her misery and haste, she never noticed the dark eyes that watched her as her friends' betrayal became known to her.
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Angelus had been positively gleeful when he saw the redhead walking towards the school. He trailed distantly behind her, trying to decide on his next move. Should he capture her now, or would it be more enjoyable to play with her a bit longer? The little game of cat-and-mouse that he envisioned was quickly gaining favor in his fevered imagination. He imagined how much fun it would be to slowly poison her mind and corrupt her lovely innocence, the taking of her virginity the final phase of the sinister plan. Then, when she was begging for his touch, hungering for more, he would leave her, insane and broken, on the slayer's doorstep. Yes, that was the game he would play, he decided happily. It might take a little longer than a quick torture and a kill, but the rewards were far greater as well.

He decided to follow her into the school, just to see her safely to the library. It wouldn't do to have her mauled by some stupid fledgling, after all. He would have to put out the word that she was off limits, he decided. Make sure the demon community knew that he had plans for her.

She caught him by surprise when she stopped just short of opening the door, and his ears strained to hear the conversation that she had obviously stopped to hear. Naughty girl, his little flame, hiding behind doors and listening to words not meant for her to hear. The thought of the other naughty things she might enjoy brought a momentary flush of excitement to his body.

He began to frown as he heard more of the conversation, surprised that her so-called friends could be so deliberately cruel. And they considered vampires to be monsters. Humans could be just as evil, he knew.

The scent of her salty tears filled his senses, and for a moment he thought about moving to comfort her. This would be a perfect opportunity to gain favor with her, at the expense of her friendship with the others. But before he could consider all the angles, she had run past him, fleeing down the hall and out into the dark night. He followed behind her at a leisurely pace, watching to make sure she made it home safely. In her highly emotional state she was broadcasting waves of sorrow and betrayal that could be felt for miles. She would have been an easy meal for any demon that had an interest, but the few in the area saw Angelus stalking her and backed off quickly.

They knew without words that she belonged to him.

Five

Angelus watched Willow as she opened her front door and slipped quickly into the house. Reasonably sure that she would stay put now that she was home, the vampire headed out into the night, his ultimate destination the mansion on Crawford Street. Time to drop in on the children, he thought with a smirk. He knew that Drusilla would be eager to see him; she had been quite excited when she realized that 'daddy' was back, demon and all.

Spike, of course, was bitter and angry. It was typical of his wayward childe's attitude towards him, he acknowledged. Spike had always been angry with him for some slight, whether real or imagined. First he was too much of a hands-on sire, the blond complained. Then, later, when he received his soul, he complained that Angelus had abandoned them. Like Spike would have had any use for me once I had a soul, he scoffed. That was a laugh! Angel hadn't been good for much of anything, except, well, doing good. The very thought made him sick.

And now he was back, at Spike and Dru's side, ready to guide them to the exciting future that awaited them. But instead of being happy to see him, Spike had merely taken every opportunity to alternately antagonize or ignore him. Of course, Dru's reaction to his return must have been particularly galling to the blond vampire. Spike had taken care of Dru for all these years, indulged her every whim, and yet one glimpse of 'daddy' and she was ready to take up with him where they'd left off. Poor Spike, he thought evilly.

'Life's a bitch and then you die,' the words of the popular human phrase came to mind, and he considered them clinically. While they were certainly true, they really didn't go far enough. The part that came after 'and then you die' was where it really got interesting, when it came right down to it.

His life, or rather, Liam's life, had really been rather a waste of time and energy. The human had been a wastrel, a drunkard, and a letcher. Certainly his mother had loved him, but very few others had. Darla, however, had seen a potential in him that others had not. And he thanked his lucky stars for that.

Now *there* was a bitch for you. Darla had been the Queen of Bitches, she had. She had ridden him hard, harping on his every decision, second-guessing his every action and criticizing his every kill. But in the end, it had made him a better, stronger vampire. A true Master Vampire in every sense of the word. As much as he had hated and feared her as a fledgling, in time he had begun to realize that what she had done, she had done to make him stronger.

But beyond her training, her sexual prowess, and her abilities as a sire, there was also the benefit of her superior bloodline. As any good vampire will tell you, as they sink their fangs into your soft neck, it's always about the blood. And she came from the best. Favored childe of the Master himself, her family connections gave him a reputation and a standing in the vampire community that mere ruthlessness and cruelty alone could never match.

Yes, he certainly had a lot to thank Darla for. Or, he would have. If only the souled bastard hadn't killed her.

Angelus was pulled out of his reverie by the large mansion that loomed above him. 'Home at last,' he thought, as he made his way past the minion sentries and into the mansion.

"Dru, Spike, daddy's home," he called, eager to see his childre again.

"Well I'm just a-quiver with excitement, I am," came Spike's sarcastic voice, as the younger vampire wheeled himself into the room. "Have you killed the bloody slayer yet?" he demanded, knowing that his sire hadn't, and probably never would, kill the stupid bint.

"Daddy!" Drusilla screamed, her voice filled with delight. She ran into the room and threw her arms around her sire, giggling as he twirled her around like a small child, before carefully putting her back on her feet. Spike gave them a look of absolute disgust, but Angelus was in such a good mood that he was willing to forgive and forget. After all, they were family.

"Hello darling," he said to Dru, giving her a quick kiss on her forehead. Spike growled softly at the display, but again Angelus ignored him.

"And no, Spike, I haven't killed the slayer yet. Why the hell should I? I'm having too much fun watching her fall apart. You should see it, she's completely lost it."

"I'd prefer to see her completely lose her head. She's a slayer, remember?" he said, turning away in disgust. "She kills our kind for sport. Seems only fitting that you, as a vampire, would want to put a stop to that."

Angelus shot Spike a look of pure annoyance. The spoiled brat was actually criticizing him, he realized, and his good mood began to evaporate. A growing anger towards his child began to simmer beneath the surface of his calm facade, and with a little more provocation his rage would boil over. Just because Spike was in a wheelchair didn't mean that Angelus would hesitate for a moment to give the blond the discipline he so obviously needed. He wondered idly whether the younger vampire's cock still worked. Might be fun to find out.

Dru noticed the gleam that came to her sire's eyes, and decided to put a stop to the confrontation that she could see was brewing. It was inevitable that sooner or later the two would come to blows, but she hoped to delay that moment for as long as possible. Her family was together, and she hoped that they could just be happy for a bit.

"Sire," she purred, running her hands up and down Angelus' chest as she talked, "What is your plan? You always have such delightful plans. If you're leaving the slayer alive, I'm sure there's a reason for it." She turned to Spike and gave him a slow wink, and her lips blew him a kiss, filled with promises of delights yet to come.

"Yes baby, there's definitely a plan," he agreed, covering her hands with his own, and gently caressing them as he removed them from his chest. He drew her to a sofa in the large, comfortable living room, and they sat together. Angelus motioned for Spike to join them, which the other vampire reluctantly did. "I *will* kill the slayer, Spike. Or, if you wish, I can wait until you're better, and you can do it yourself. Doesn't much matter to me. Mostly I just want to play. It's been a long time since I've been able to play with my food," he added happily, enjoying Dru's worshipping gaze.

Spike still seemed sullen, but his eyes had taken on a bit of excitement at the thought of bagging another slayer. Angelus knew that it was just a matter of time before Spike was back on his feet, both figuratively and literally. He had been feeding his childe his own blood regularly since the soul had departed, and already there were marked improvements. Just a little longer and the wheelchair would be a thing of the past. The thought made him happy, but he suspected that once his childe was back to full strength, it would be quite difficult to keep the younger vampire in line. Spike had been too independent for too long, and it would probably take a lot of discipline to remind him who he belonged to. He felt his cock stirring to life at the thought of punishing his stubborn childe, and acknowledged that he might just enjoy the challenge. But first things first...

"I've got a new toy to play with," he added, smiling as Dru clapped her hands together in childish glee.

"It's the little redheaded flame, isn't it, daddy?" she asked as she bounced on the sofa beside him.

'How does she always know,' he wondered. Somehow, someway, his insane childe always seemed to know these things, often before he figured them out himself. It could be a little disconcerting at times, but it could also be inordinately useful.

"That little mousy friend of the slayer?" Spike snorted disbelievingly. "She looks like she'd scream if you said 'boo' to her. What possible challenge could she pose?"

"Oh, you might be surprised," Angelus answered, warming to the subject. "She's quite the looker, underneath all those hideous clothes. Add to that the fact that she's the smartest girl I've met in quite a while, and of course that tantalizing innocence that your teeth just ache to taste. Oh, and then there's that little streak of wild darkness running right under the surface. I don't think she's even aware of it herself, but it's certainly there. Don't let her appearance fool you, childe. There's a lot more there than meets the eye."

Spike clearly looked unconvinced, but Angelus didn't care. Besides, he still had his trump card to play. "Not only will her destruction be a hell of a lot of fun, but think of what it will do to the slayer and the rest of her little band. The redhead is the one who holds that group together. I'm sure you've seen that." He waited for Spike to nod in agreement, and then continued. "By taking her apart, I'll be taking them all down. The only thing that makes this slayer strong is her support network. Without them, she's just a girl; not much better than any of the other recent ones. We take out Willow, and the whole house of cards falls down. Then the slayer is an easy target."

An evil smile grew on the blond's face as he processed the words, realizing the truth of Angelus' statements. "Have fun then, mate. Not that I doubt for a moment that you won't. Just let me know when the time is right to take out the slayer. Hell, she might even make a nice little pet, now that I think of it. All that lovely blonde hair and those muscular legs. Yeah, I might be able to get into a bit of that."

Angelus smiled at his childe's words. It might take a little time, but before too long his family would be back the way they should be.

Six

Bitter tears dripped down Willow's cheeks as she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling above her and wondering what she had done to deserve the pain she was feeling right now. Not that pain was something new to her. It certainly wasn't. She had suffered a fair amount of hurt in her young life. Her parents and their lack of interest in her, for example, were a constant source of pain. Then there was the loss of Jessie - another agonizing event in her life. But this was different; this was worse than all those other experiences put together.

She had loved Xander since before she had had a name to describe her feelings. He didn't see her as anything but a friend, and she accepted that. Maybe some small part of her hoped that someday he would open up his stupid eyes and realize that she was there for him; would always be there for him. But overall she had pretty much accepted that his friendship was the only part of him that she would ever have. And for the most part she had learned to live with that.

And then Buffy had come into their lives. A female friend was something new and exciting for Willow. Sure, she had female acquaintances, but this was something more. Buffy had quickly become her confidante and her advisor, and perhaps in the excitement Willow had told her new friend more than she should have. She had poured out all her secret feelings and wishes for Xander, and Buffy had listened like a friend, promising never to speak a word to anyone about her feelings for the oblivious brunette.

That just made her betrayal tonight so much more awful.

They ALL knew about her feelings for Xander now, she thought morosely as fresh tears of humiliation threatened to fall. Not only that, but they had all known about Xander and Cordelia. Her hands balled into firsts as she realized the depths of their betrayal. Not one of them had said a word to her. Well, she wouldn't expect anything from Xander. He seemed to be doing his best to keep the whole thing secret. Obviously he had known how upset the news would make her.

She could imagine them all, sitting in the library, talking about 'poor little Willow.' God, the embarrassment was almost more than she could take. And Xander? How could he date that, that, well, Cordelia wasn't a very nice person, that's all. After all the years she had taunted them, and all the abuse she had heaped on Willow in particular, and then Xander goes off and kisses her. There was probably more than just the kissing, she decided, the thought making her slightly ill. How could he have betrayed her like that, her heart wailed.

And why hadn't Giles or Buffy told her the truth? She couldn't believe that her 'friend' had kept silent the entire time. She knew that Buffy was still angry with her over the whole 'Angelus' thing, but *this* was beyond cruel.

Her mind went off on a tangent, considering the situation between her friend and the now-evil vampire. Why on earth would Buffy think that she wanted Angelus' attentions? Sure, he was one sexy bit of salty goodness; even thinking like that was bringing a blush to her body, she knew. But if she was honest, she had to admit that he was incredibly sexy. But evil, she reminded herself sternly. Definitely evil. *So* not daydream material.

Maybe if Angelus had been Angel, and he and Buffy had never been involved, well, maybe she could allow herself to feel differently about him. But then again, he would never have looked at her if that were the case. The only reason he was bothering her now was because he figured she would be an easy way to get back at Buffy.

And considering Buffy's actions of late, it seemed to be working like a charm. The only reason Angelus was bothering Willow at all was because he was trying to hurt Buffy. Why couldn't her friend see that? The blonde just seemed so caught up in her little drama that helping her friends seemed to be beyond her.

No, that wasn't fair, she decided. Buffy was going through a tough time right now, and regardless of the way her friend was treating her, if Willow was to be a true friend, she had to cut Buffy some slack. Didn't she? Yet at the same time, it just didn't seem fair that Buffy had brought a lot of this trouble upon herself, but Willow seemed to be the one paying the price.

She hated them all; it was just simpler that way, she decided. Every single one of them who had kept the secret from her. And Angelus too. And all the stupid vampires out there. Why couldn't life be simple she wondered, her heart heavy with hurt. Like when she was younger, and the only things she had to worry about were getting caught out after curfew with Xander and Jessie.

So maybe she didn't exactly hate all of them. Her brain knew that she was just angry and hurting, even if her heart wasn't so sure. But just for tonight she'd hold onto that anger for a little while. Maybe it would make her feel better; make her stronger.

Tomorrow morning she would let it go, and she would put on her cheerful, happy, 'Willow' face and pretend that everything was okay. Pretend that she hadn't felt betrayed by her friends. Pretend that she hadn't cried her eyes out, alone in her room.

Despite what her friends thought, she was actually quite good at pretending.
________________________________________

Angelus watched the young redhead as she cried in her room, wishing he could smell the salt of her tears and the scent of her despair. Despair, he knew, smelled slightly like vinegar. Rich, bitter and tangy, it smelled even better when mixed with the sweet scent of fear.

The girl on the bed was still now, her eyes closed and her body tense and angry. He wondered what thoughts were going through her mind; although earlier her face had been an open window to her mood, now it was closed tight. Well, only one way to know for sure what she was thinking, he decided.

He knocked lightly on the door, smiling when he saw her eyes snap open and focus on his face. It looked for a moment like she had decided to ignore him, but before he could decide on his next move, she rose from the bed and approached the door, opening it just a bit, and then sitting down on the floor in front of it.

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" Despair and resignation came through in her voice in equal parts.

"Why were you crying?" he avoided her question with one of her own.

"Why do you care?" Ah, she knew how to play that game too.

He shrugged then, unsure which answer would give him the best advantage. "Just thought I'd see if you wanted to talk," he said finally.

It was her turn to shrug, and then she stretched out to lie on her side, still facing him, but craning her neck to look up. Angelus took the cue, lying down on the cold wood of her deck, his position mirroring her own. She hadn't told him to go away, which surprised him. In fact, she seemed interested in talking, which was an even bigger surprise. He tried to concentrate, choosing his next words carefully.

"I'm sorry you found out about Xander and the cheerleader that way. It was cruel of them not to tell you outright," he said softly, careful to keep any trace of judgment out of his voice.

Her body tensed and her eyes squeezed shut. Silence settled about them, occasionally broken by the sounds of cars far below on the street. All that care taken, and he had still managed to say wrong thing.

"So you knew about it too?" she finally said, opening her eyes again and training them on his pale face. "How long have you known? Did *Angel* know?"

"You must be kidding," he spit contemptuously. "That souled moron was so fixated on the slayer that he didn't even know the cheerleader's name. He had absolutely no clue."

She was silent for a moment as she considered his words. "So what are you fixated on, Angelus?" she asked softly, her green eyes curious.

'Curiosity killed the cat,' he thought, and decided that this was the aspect of hers on which he should concentrate.

His guileless brown eyes met hers as he gave her his answer. "Haven't you guessed yet, little flame? I'm fixated on you."

Seven

"Haven't you guessed yet, little flame? I'm fixated on you."

Willow snorted derisively, taking the vampire by surprise. "Yeah right, Angelus. Try again," she said, her voice bitter.

"Why do you doubt me?" he asked, his curiosity displayed on his face.

"I know you all think of me as naive little Willow, and maybe I am a bit naive, but I'm not stupid," she said the words angrily, her eyes sparkling with passion. "You're bugging me because you think it will upset Buffy. Guess you'd better rethink that plan, huh? I assume you must have overheard the conversation in the library tonight, just like I did. So you know that Buffy doesn't give a flying fig about me."

Ah, the pity party was in full force now, he thought gleefully, careful to keep his face a blank canvas. No, it definitely wouldn't do for her to catch him gloating over her friends' betrayal.

"Had it ever occurred to you that I might be interested in you because you're you?" he suggested, doing his best to look sincere.

"Nope, not for one minute," she replied matter-of-factly. "Being me is not something that ever gets me noticed." Willow frowned slightly, wondering if her sentence really made sense. She suspected that it probably hadn't, but decided to let it be.

The gentle smile on Angelus' face told her that he understood her words, even if they were a little confusing. "Maybe Angel and the moron were too stupid to notice you, but I'm just a bit smarter than they are," he informed her arrogantly. The soft smile had curved into his trademark smirk, and Willow found herself wondering for a moment what it would feel like if those lips touched her own.

The thought, and the thought that she had even had such a thought, sobered her immediately. This was Angelus, not Angel, she reminded herself. Kissing him would be a prelude to death, nothing more. And as angry and hurt as she was right now, she still wasn't about to commit suicide.

"Well so am I," she told him angrily. "I'm smart enough to know that all you're trying to do is cause trouble for Buffy; I'm simply a convenient pawn."

"And is it working?" he asked teasingly, still smirking at her.

Of course it was, Willow thought sadly, but she was not going to admit it to him. "Not one bit," she said bravely, the sorrow on her face proving her a liar. Angelus wisely chose not to call her on it, but they were both aware that he knew the truth.

"Why do you care what Buffy thinks? Or any of them, for that matter?"

"Why? Because they're my friends."

"Friends wouldn't keep secrets from you. Friends wouldn't talk behind your back like they do. Friends wouldn't hurt you like they do."

Each word was a knife in her heart, and they both knew it. Tears began to pool in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She would not cry in front of him.

"Go away Angelus," she sighed, sitting up and facing him. "I'm tired, and I'm hurting, and you're not helping me feel better."

Angelus knew that staying any longer would just rekindle her anger, most likely directing it towards him. That would be counter-productive, to say the least, so he decided to do as she requested. There was always tomorrow.

He stood gracefully, his body fluid in its motion. "I really do want to be your friend, Willow. Perhaps even more," he let the phrase trail off suggestively, watching her face intently to see if his words were getting through to her at all. "I know you don't believe me, and I guess I can't blame you. Just remember that if you ever need me, I'll be here for you."

Judging from the look on her face, she didn't believe one word out of his mouth. Instead of replying, she came to her feet, closed the door firmly in his face, and jerked the curtains closed.

He continued to watch her through the thin curtains, her body merely a silhouette to his eyes. Yes, tomorrow was another day, he reminded himself. Maybe she could resist him right now, but between her friends' mistreatment of her and his charm, he would soon wear down her stubbornness until she gave in. And then revenge would be his.
________________________________________

"Hey Willow," Xander greeted her cheerfully, as he stuffed half a Twinkie into his mouth, his lips grinning around the white sugary frosting.

She had tracked him down to the library, deciding that they needed to have a talk. Maybe they could clear the air and actually clear away the lies that had clouded their relationship. Maybe she could get rid of the angry bitterness she was drowning in every time she thought of him.

Sitting down beside him at the large table in the middle of the library, she put on her happy face, the one that she wore when she wanted to fool them all. But in her mind, she replayed the overheard conversation from last night on a continuous loop in her head. Buffy and Cordelia had humiliated her, and Xander hadn't even had the decency to stand up for her. 'Liar!' her mind screamed, wanting to say the words aloud and hurt him the way that he had hurt her. But instead she merely smiled and responded to his greeting. "Hi Xan."

Was Angelus right? Did she deserve better treatment from those she thought were her friends? Would she ever get it if she didn't stand up and demand it?

Thoughts of Angelus assailed her again, pulling her consciousness this way and that. She contrasted her image of him with the one she had of Xander: Xander, the sweet goofy adolescent, all hormones and gangly limbs as he joked his way through life. The joking was his way of hiding deeper scars; he used humor as a way to hide his feelings and his pain. But after what she had seen last night, she realized that there was another part to her friend that she never knew existed. The part that had been lying to her, apparently for some time, about his relationship with Cordelia. And my god didn't that sentence just make her stomach want to heave?

And then there was Angelus: He took lying to an art form; decades of practice had made them dance off his tongue effortlessly, sounding just as real as the truth ever could. Dark clothes and dark hair hid an even darker heart. He was dangerous and handsome and sexy and all those things that she had always associated with men, as opposed to boys. If only....

If only he wasn't a psychopath who couldn't be trusted? A serial killer who lived off of the blood and the fear and pain of innocents? Well, yeah, she acknowledged, there were a few negatives when it came to Angelus. Angel hadn't been like that. But then Angel had belonged to Buffy.

'Oh god, is it true? Are Buffy's accusations right?' she asked herself in horror. Was she lusting after Angelus because she knew she couldn't have Angel? But that would make her...well, just a really awful person.

Willow shoved her thoughts of Angelus away, locking them up tight in a lonely corner of her mind. She needed to concentrate on Xander.

"So what's new, Xan?" she asked, infusing her voice with her customary curiosity and happiness. In her mind, she had the entire conversation planned. What she would say, what he would say back, all of that. She would be mature and gracious; pleased that he had finally found someone that made him happy, even if it wasn't her.

Xander gave her an uneasy look at the question, obviously wondering if she had heard anything. Perhaps he was toying with the idea of telling her the truth. It *was* the perfect opportunity, after all.

But instead of sharing his news with her, he turned his head towards the table and mumbled a quiet, "Nothing much," as he attempted to swallow yet another Twinkie without the benefit of chewing it first. The result, in typical Xander style, was somewhere between a cough and a gulp, and it took the boy a moment to return his breathing to normal after his close brush with death by Twinkie-inhalation.

Willow watched idly as he calmed down, waiting for him to signal that he was back to 'normal', whatever that happened to mean to him.

"Is there..is there anything that you, um, you want to tell me?" she asked quietly, trying to catch his eye.

He avoided her gaze, ducking his head down once again and staring at the table. "No--no! Uh, why do you ask? Have you heard something?" He tried to make the words sound light and teasing, but the tense look on his face said something else entirely.

She wanted to scream with frustration at his stubbornness. She was trying to do the right thing, damn it. How much more of an opening did she have to give him, for heaven's sake? 'Just TELL ME,' she wanted to scream at him.

Willow gathered her courage to try again, but Giles rescued her from another sure-to-be-unsuccessful attempt as he entered the library, his arms full of books. Jenny followed behind him, arms laden with yet more books.

The tension drained from Xander's body as he saw his rescuers enter the room. Willow's questions had made him wonder if perhaps she knew about him and Cordelia, but he just couldn't be sure. Telling her the truth now, if she didn't already know it, was just something he didn't want to deal with at the moment, not with everything that was going on.

"Research, huh?" he asked eagerly. Sure, he wasn't a big fan of the research thing, but research also meant that a need for more donuts and/or pizza was right around the corner, and he was just the guy to go and get them. The fact that it would also get him out of having to have 'the talk' with Willow was just an additional bonus.

Willow watched in disappointment as Xander grabbed his coat and headed off to parts unknown. 'So much for being the adult and getting the truth out of him,' she thought sadly.

It took two tries for Jenny to pull the redhead away from her troubled thoughts. "Willow?" she asked softly, putting a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder.

Willow's head jerked up, surprise written on her face, as she stared at the woman before her. "Hi Jenny," she said dispiritedly, turning to look back at the table. Time to shake it off, she scolded herself. There's nothing I can do about it now, so I might as well help out.

Since Jenny was in the library, Willow assumed that the newly arrived books were somehow related to the re-souling spell. "So where do I start?" she asked, pasting an eager smile on her face. 'There, I can do this,' she thought.

"So you're not afraid to be seen talking to me?" Jenny asked in a prison whisper, trying to infuse a tiny bit of humor into the situation.

Almost against her will, Willow let a soft, sincere smile drift across her face. The small gesture reassured her teacher that even if the rest of them weren't terribly thrilled to have her help, Willow at least was willing to welcome her back into their circle.

The tension had broken, and when Giles came to join them at the table, the three talked eagerly. The discussion started casually, but soon the talk centered on the restoration spell: where they could find it, how they could translate it, and how soon they might be able to use it to restore Angel's soul.


Eight

Long late nights spent researching always made Willow sleepy, and this night was no exception. Although her brain enjoyed the stimulation that could be gleaned from talking with Jenny and Giles, the books they had pored over were rather musty and dull. Once she got home that evening the redhead barely had time to throw on an old, oversized T-shirt and crawl into bed before sleep claimed her.

A refreshing, full eight hours of rest would have been wonderful, but it was something she rarely experienced. And it certainly wasn't going to happen tonight, either. Especially not if a certain dark-haired vampire had anything to say about it.
________________________________________

It was the feel of his hand that finally roused her to consciousness. Her dreams had been full of pleasant things: carnivals; the beach; a sunny day. Somehow the feel of a soft hand, gently stroking her cheek, had incorporated itself into her dreams. Something in her mind rebelled. The dolphin was stroking her cheek gently? Wait, dolphins didn't have hands, did they? Something was wrong.

She struggled to break the bonds of sleep, her tired green eyes finally opening to look directly into amused brown ones. "Angelus?" she yawned, drowsiness making her slow to realize the perilous nature of her situation.

"Angelus," the brown-eyed apparition agreed, his voice serious, his hand still lightly stroking her cheek.

The stroking of his hand was disorienting, to say the least. She wanted to move, to scream, to push him away from her, but she was mesmerized by the gentleness he displayed. Either that or insensible with terror. It was a toss-up, really.

"H-how did you get in?" she asked, attempting to quell the tremor of fear in her voice. She knew that nobody else was in the house; her parents had just left a couple of hours ago for a conference in Madrid, leaving her all alone for a week. It was not at all unusual, but in this case it was rather disturbing. On one hand, it was nice that they weren't going to die at the hands of the homicidal vampire before her, but on the other hand, it would have been nice to know that there was a chance that *someone* might call in the cavalry.

Her mind did a quick inventory of her situation. The first thing it came up with was the vampire leaning over her, stroking her cheek tenderly. Wasn't he supposed to be draining her dry right about now? Best not to remind him of that fact, though. Might lead to unfortunate consequences.

"And, um, what are you doing here?" Stupid question Willow, she berated herself silently. He's here to kill you, of course. Sure, he's being all nice now, with the gentle hand and the soft voice, and all that, but once he's lulled you into a false sense of security, it's nighty-night Willow, for good. "I-I mean, not that it isn't nice to see you and all," she added politely. 'Mustn't piss off the master vampire,' she thought irreverently.

"Well," he drawled, amusement tingeing his voice, "I was in the neighborhood, and thought it would be rude not to stop by and say hello. As for how I got in, you'll have to blame your mother, I'm afraid. I have to say that Sheila is *quite* a charming woman," he added playfully, his eyes warm and smiling as they remembered his earlier conversation. "She was very impressed when I informed her that I was your history teacher, and that I wished to drop by an early admissions application from UCLA for you. For some reason she doesn't want you to go to UC-Sunnydale. Although I can't imagine why," he added with a smirk.

The surreal conversation was taking its toll on Willow's nerves, and she struggled to sit upright in the bed, hoping to gain a small advantage by facing him head-on instead of having to look up at him. Anxious eyes latched themselves onto Angelus' face, as she nervously waited for his next move.

"Why so quiet, little flame? Cat got your tongue?" he asked lazily, his hand leaving her cheek to move lower, ghosting gently over her throat and stopping momentarily at her pulse-point. He felt the racing thump of her pulse beneath his fingers, and imagined how sweet that blood would taste. "Your pulse is running a mile a minute, Willow. Is it fear or desire that makes your heart beat so quickly?"

Willow cringed, blushing furiously at what he was implying. If she was to be honest, she would have to admit to being drawn to him, in the same way that a moth was drawn to a flame. But desire? Was that really what she felt?

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying nervously to deny his accusation. "Desire? You mean, like a death wish?"

Angelus threw back his head and laughed loudly, the sound sending icy shivers down her spine. How did he manage to make such a simple sound seem both sexy and dangerous? Or was it simply sexy because it *was* dangerous? Willow's young mind didn't have an answer to that question, so she forced herself to think of something else. Like Buffy. But it was awfully difficult to think about Buffy when even now his hands were drifting further down her body, touching here, teasing there, making her skin tingle with sensations that she'd never felt before.

"Why are you doing this? Shouldn't you be killing me right now?" she asked, her question filled with equal parts curiosity and dread. She did want to know why he wasn't killing her at the moment, but part of her was afraid of what his answer might be.

Angelus looked back at her, his hand cupping her chin and raising her eyes to meet his. "You sound almost disappointed Willow," he said mockingly. "Would you prefer it if I drained you here and left your pretty body for your friends to find on the morrow?"

His words fed her fears and she began to struggle, her movements puny and futile against the strength of the vampire next to her. His hands rested on her shoulders, pressing her easily down onto the bed. "Relax," he breathed, his voice a soft, seductive whisper as he tried to calm her. "Don't fight me."

"I'm thinking that fighting you would be in my best interest right about now," she panted, undeterred by the promise in his voice. Her struggles continued, but to no avail, and finally she gave up. Unless something happened to distract his attention, she was just wasting her time and energy.

When she looked at him again, she nearly cringed at the amusement sparkling in his knowing eyes. "So now that I have you, whatever will I do with you?" he asked mockingly. He watched her like a cat evaluating the evening's treat, and then in a blink of an eye, his hand grabbed her comforter. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled it away from her body, displaying her bare flesh to his appraising eyes. The thigh-length t-shirt she wore was barely enough to cover her chest and abdomen, and it bunched up around her hips, leaving most of her body vulnerable to his bold gaze.

Willow shrank back into the bed, as if trying to lose herself within the mattress. Such an attempt was futile, of course, but she could still try.

"Why do you shy away from me, my little flame?" Angelus asked, his voice husky. He reached out again to touch her face, his hand cool and somewhat comforting against her hot flesh. "I could make you feel so good, and all you would have to do is lie back and enjoy it."

Showing her a taste of what he could give her, he moved his hand lower, his fingers teasing the hollow of her throat, then moving down to her breasts. She gasped as he cupped her breast, his thumb massaging the nipple through the soft fabric of her nightgown.

'Bad, this is so very bad,' she thought, her words a direct contrast of the feelings assailing her at the moment. It was wrong, wrong, wrong, and yet her body was responding as if she had no control over it. Her nipples hardened, the tips aching for attention; her face flushed, the skin hot to the touch of the cool night air surrounding it; and when he leaned in to kiss her, instead of trying to fight him, her arms curled around his neck and settled comfortably on his shoulders. 'Oh, god, oh, god, I'm *so* going to hell. And--and not the nice hell that everybody pretends is going to be like this big naughty party. I'm going to that special hell that is reserved only for people who sleep with their friends' ex-boyfriends. Okay, so, technically it's more like my friend's ex-boyfriend's soul-less split personality, but still, there's got to be a special place in hell reserved for that, right?'

As her mind babbled on, her body took advantage of its distraction to simply revel in the sensation. His kisses were tender yet wild, passionate and yet gentle. His tongue teasingly traced the depression of her lips, asking her to open up to him. She resisted for a mere moment before giving into his request and allowing him to explore her mouth.

His tongue was cool and bold, sweeping in and tangling with her own, massaging it and nipping it lightly with his teeth. She shivered, a motion rooted entirely in mindless passion, and tried to pull his head even closer as her fingers knotted desperately in his short, spikey hair.

The bed dipped, and some dim part of her mind realized that he was now lying next to her, his arms wrapped tightly around her body. He stroked her back through the material of her nightgown, before moving a hand down to caress her lower back and ass.

The feel of his hand moving lower, to places never explored before, caught her attention and pulled her out of her passionate delirium.

"No! Angelus, no," she yelped, pulling back from his kiss and looking into his passion-glazed eyes. Her panic began to rise as she realized he had no interest whatsoever in stopping his roving hands.

"Yes, Willow. Yes," he growled back, his brown eyes flecked with bits of gold. One hand remained firmly on her ass, gripping the flesh there and rubbing it lightly. His other hand moved back to her face, his thumb caressing her cheekbone as he stared into her eyes. "You know you want this; crave this. Why are you fighting it?"

"Oh god, this is wrong in so many ways that I don't even know where to start!" she wailed desperately, trying to scoot to the other side of the bed in an attempt to put distance between their bodies. But his hands on her body were like steel, and they pulled her body even closer to his.

"You were enjoying yourself," he reminded her, his eyes glittering with desire. "At least you were until your petty human moralities kicked in. And don't try to pretend otherwise; your scent would make lies of any protestations of innocence you might make." He drew in a deep breath, the scents of their bodies and her desire intoxicating him.

Willow's thoughts turned inward as she thought about his words. She *had* been enjoying it. The things he did to her, the feelings and sensations that she had never felt before, were new and exciting. She would be a liar if she claimed otherwise. But that didn't mean that it was right. In fact, it was so far away from being right that she couldn't even measure the distance.

She had betrayed her friends, each and every one of them. Buffy of course, for obvious reasons, but Xander and Giles and Jenny as well. She had kissed the man that they were working desperately to destroy, and had even enjoyed it. And god, what about Angel? She had found comfort in the arms of the one person he hated and despised above all others. What would he think of her if he could see her now? What would any of them think of her?

Angelus watched the emotions flicker across her face, reveling in the ease with which he could read her. She was truly an innocent in every way; he would have so much fun destroying and corrupting every last inch of her. He knew that he could take her now, and that she would enjoy every minute of it, even while she hated herself for it. But if he did that, the game would be over too quickly, and then what would he do for fun? Talk over old times with Spike and Drusilla? Not bloody likely.

She could sense his eyes on her and became increasingly uneasy as the silence stretched between them. "Can you--will you please leave me?" she asked quietly, knowing that he would probably ignore her request, but not knowing what else to do.

His eyes were unreadable as he considered her request. After what seemed like an eternity, he nodded slowly, the gears in his mind still turning. "I will leave. But before you relax, there are conditions."

At her questioning look, he continued. "I'll leave, but only if you promise me something."

"What?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes large and curious.

"You have to promise that you won't revoke my invitation," he told her smugly, a grin twisting his lips at the startled look on her face. "If you do, I might just have to visit your mother again when she gets back into town next week. And believe me, after having to wait a week, I might be a bit less...polite than I was the last time we met."

Willow's stomach turned at the thought of what he could, and would, do to her mother. She didn't doubt for one moment that he would kill her instantly if it would help him achieve his goal. But on the other hand, if she didn't revoke the invitation, he could come in at any time of night and...and...well, he could do whatever he wanted.

"I..." Conflicting emotions assailed her. She felt anger at being so helpless, mixed with futility, bitterness, and finally calm acceptance that she was going to have to do what he asked. She licked lips that were suddenly dry and cracked, and slowly nodded her head. "I promise," she said, bowing her head and fighting to hide the tears of frustration that threatened to pool in her eyes.

"That's my girl," Angelus said softly, almost tenderly, before getting up and walking to the door. He spared her one last look before he walked out her door to the balcony, savoring the picture of her misery, before closing the door quietly behind him and leaving her alone with her thoughts, and the knowledge that sooner or later, he would return for her.


Nine

The day at school had been fairly long and boring, so it was with some relief that Willow entered the library at the end of her day, hoping for something slightly more challenging. Buffy and Xander had soon joined her, and the three had talked happily. Sometimes Willow would cast a look at Xander, wishing she could convince him somehow to tell her about Cordelia, but the truth continued to elude the boy, and he prattled on happily about this or that superficial subject, never really getting close to telling her anything real.

'Buffy probably made him uncomfortable when she told him that I had a crush on him,' Willow thought, knowing that like most young men, Xander seemed to have a problem expressing and accepting emotions. That added yet another reason for him to shut her out as much as possible. A small flicker of anger burned in her mind when she thought about Buffy's careless words, and the affect that they were having.

Before long it was early evening, and shadows had begun to flood the room, the tall bookshelves casting eerie shadows on the floor. Cordelia had decided to grace them with her presence, freshly showered and cheerful from another successful cheerleading victory. There had been no physical demonstrations of affections between the brunette and her boyfriend, but Willow caught several looks passing between the two when they thought she wasn't looking.

It made her sad that they continued to shut her out of their lives, and several times she almost spoke up, determined to put an end to their charade. As always, her insecurities managed to get the better of her and she stayed silent, a slight frown marring her face. Give them time, her insecurities demanded. They'll tell you when they think you're ready. She acquiesced, knowing that with every lie her friends were drifting further and further away from her.

But then again, they weren't the only ones telling lies.

Giles had come out from his office momentarily to ask if anyone had been visited by Angelus the previous evening, and Willow had done her best to look honest and trustworthy as she said absolutely nothing. She still remembered Buffy's reaction the last time that Angelus had shown undue interest in her, and she was *not* about to go through all of that drama again. Fortunately, nobody else had been paid a visit from the dark vampire either, and the subject was swiftly dropped.
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"So have we done enough of this crap yet?" Cordelia asked, boredom pouring from every inch of her well-manicured nails. "Because I'm missing prime action at the Bronze tonight. There's a really cool band playing, and I hear that *some* people might even show up and, like, dance and stuff." Her eyes strayed to Xander's then, her intentions quite evident to everyone in the room, even Willow.

The young man cleared his throat uneasily, shooting an anxious look at his redheaded friend, glad to see that she seemed to be deeply interested in the pages of the book before her. "I guess we could go hang out. Buffy, you up?"

"I'm *so* up!" the blonde answered, shooting a look at Willow before looking back at Xander.

"Um, Willow, well, do you want to..." Xander trailed off, his invitation obviously brought about by guilt and not any true desire that Willow join them.

"Yeah, Willow, I'd ask you to come with, but you seem to be really interested in that book, so see ya tomorrow!" Buffy called out, as she headed towards the door at something close to vampire-type speed.

As the doors swung shut behind the three friends, Willow's eyes widened at her rather obvious desertion. 'It hurts,' she thought. 'I mean, I know that they're doing it because I don't know their little secret, and they don't want to tell me, so it's easier to just ignore me and go off without me. I do understand that. But it still hurts.'

She was glad that Giles still seemed to be in deep thought inside his office; glad that he hadn't witnessed her snubbing at the hands of the others. And even more glad that he never saw the tears that fell slowly from her eyes, rolled down her cheeks, and came to rest within the pages of the book before her.

'Enough of this,' she remonstrated, preparing to give herself a mental pep talk to chase away the blues, at the same time that she wiped her eyes, destroying the evidence of her unhappiness. Things were bad enough without having to deal with Giles and his awkward attempts at consolation. Not that she wasn't glad that *someone* cared about her.
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Willow wondered sometimes what 'normal' teenagers did with their evenings. Maybe it wasn't so different than this. Studying, talking with parents, watching TV perhaps. Well, her parents were gone again, as they so often were, but at least she had Giles and Jenny, sitting with her as she researched, keeping her spirits up with gentle words of praise and encouragement.

Although she *was* studying at the moment, she was willing to bet that most teenagers were studying math or science and not - she glanced at the title of the book - Ancient Curses of the Byzantine Empire. As for TV, well, she had to agree with her parents on that one: it rotted the mind and the imagination. So at least *that* wasn't something she felt bad about missing. But in spite of all her attempts to make herself feel that her life was close to normal, she still knew that she was missing something. Something important. Something that would make all the rest of this seem worthwhile.

"Oh, oh! Oh, I think I found it!" Ms. Calender cried excitedly, bouncing up and down in her seat like a young teenager, not at all the usual picture of mature intelligence that she usually projected.

Giles raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with her display of exuberance. "And what exactly did you find?" he wondered aloud. Months of researching with Xander had made the Watcher skeptical whenever he heard the words, 'I found it.' Usually what it meant was that the boy had found something useless, and everybody got their hopes up, only to be cruelly dashed when Xander explained that he had finally found the demon that looked exactly like the one in his comic book. Or that he had found the Twinkie he had misplaced the previous week, still in its stay-fresh wrapper. So it wasn't entirely cruel and heartless for Giles to be less than trusting when Jenny claimed to have found something.

Willow glanced up curiously. Unlike Giles, she trusted her mentor implicitly. If the woman said she thought she had found something, then she probably had. Getting up eagerly, the redhead walked to stand behind Jenny, peering over her shoulder to see the cause of her excitement.

The words on the paper were ancient, and written in a language of which she had no knowledge. Romani, possibly? That was good, right? Since the gypsies had been the ones to curse Angelus in the first place. "Is it the original curse?" she asked anxiously, crossing her fingers behind her back in a childish display of hope for good luck and a favorable answer.

"I really think so!" Jenny answered excitedly, her fingers flying over the page as she picked a word out here and there for the group. "This word is demon," she explained, her fingers trailing along until it came to another word she recognized, "And this is soul." She looked at the word next to it, "And this is restoration!" she said, her mounting excitement proving to be infectious.

Willow smiled happily across the table at Giles, her eyes alight with hope for the first time in days. "I think she's right, Giles. Come look at this."

Giles came to stand next to her, his eyes also flickering over the text. He knew as little Romani as Jenny did, but as he looked at the words he had to admit that the order and format resembled a list of ingredients and then instructions for a spell. He placed a hand on each of the women's shoulders, and seemed to relax visibly, the stress of the last several days sliding off of his face like water off a duck's back. "It looks very promising," he agreed cautiously. "Can you find a way to translate the rest of it?"

"Yes! It will take a day or two, but I'm sure I can do it," she told him, excitement rising in her voice. "I'll start on the ingredients first, so that way you two can start gathering them while I'm working on the rest of it. Then, once I have the words of the curse translated, we can do it!"

They smiled at each other, each of them secretly relieved that there was an end in sight to this intolerable situation, and that they could take part in the resolution. The others had their reasons, but Willow's reasons were quite a bit more personal: never again did she want to wake up to see the disturbing eyes of Angelus boring down into her soul.

"How soon do you think you can have the first part of the translation finished?" she asked softly, praying that the answer would be 'tonight.'

"It will probably take a day or two. And then another couple of days to gather the ingredients. So, if nothing else goes wrong, we should be ready to do this in about four or five days."

Willow's eyes filled briefly with unhappiness, before she had the good sense to hide it. That seemed such a long time to wait, especially since Angelus now had access to her house at any time he wanted. She knew that these things took time, but she was hoping that they would take a little *less* time than that. Still, since there was an end in sight, maybe she could find some way to keep Angelus away from her for just a little while longer.

'Fat chance,' her mind whispered spitefully.

Ten

Willow's feet were silent as she made her way up the driveway to the front of her house. Jenny and Giles waited patiently as she pulled out her key. The two adults made sure that she was locked safely inside before they pulled away, Giles somewhat eccentric car unusually noisy in the silence of the early morning.

They had spent their evening together, Jenny hunched over the spellbook as she sought to decipher the ingredients they would need to restore Angelus' soul. Giles and Willow had searched the reference section, looking for any information they could find on the old gypsy language.

Finally a point had come when they could no longer keep their eyes open. Jenny in particular needed her wits about her as she tried to translate the words of the curse. Even a small error in her work could result in horrific problems when casting the curse, so it was decided that they would go home and sleep, and gather again the next evening. Hopefully by then Jenny would have at least a couple of ingredients that they could start to track down.

The three agreed not to tell the others of their progress. If Buffy knew that it was possible to re-curse Angelus, it would affect her ability to fight him. Giving the vampire that type of an advantage was dangerous; anything that might make her fight at less than 100 percent of her abilities could get her killed.

An additional concern was that anything told to the three young adults could be overheard and passed back to Angelus. Willow shivered when she thought about what he would do if he found out they were trying to re-curse him. There was no doubt at all in her mind that his response would be brutal, bloody, and fatal.
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Willow climbed the stairs to her room, her body dragging under the weight of her need for rest. All she wanted was a nice warm bath, and then the feeling of cool, crisp sheets caressing her body as she drifted off to sleep. Come to think of it, the warm bath wasn't even a necessity, she decided. Sleep, glorious sleep, that was the key.

She walked through her room and on into her bathroom, her brain's single-minded need for rest making her careless. Her senses failed to notice the sharp brown eyes that watched her progress from a chair in a dark corner of her room. Angelus smiled then, enjoying being able to observe her without awareness clouding her thoughts and expressions. She was so pure, so soft, so innocent, and he loved knowing that he would be the one to change all of that.

Soon she re-emerged from the bathroom, her face stripped of all artificiality and her body smelling of a soft citrus scent. Still she did not see him, her mind so preoccupied with the idea of sleep that it moved her body on autopilot, divesting her of her clothes and re-dressing her in an oversized shirt that buttoned down the front.

Angelus watched silently, unwilling to break the spell that seemed to have settled over the girl. As piece after piece of clothing was removed, the bulge in his pants got tighter and more uncomfortable. Leather, although extremely fashionable, did have its drawbacks, he conceded wryly.

Finally she slipped into bed, a sigh of comfort leaving her lips as her body slid between the soft sheets. He chose that as his moment to make his presence known, standing and creeping silently to her bedside.

"Willow," he called teasingly, not surprised that the girl was already half-asleep and made little response. His hand reached up, pushing the thin sheet that covered her body down to her waist. His fingers made quick work of her buttons, moving the sides of the shirt away to give him the chance to admire her firm breasts. As he reached forward to cup one of them with his cool hand, her eyes flew open and the scent of her panic and fear filled the air.

"It's about time you woke up," he whispered, watching her green eyes grow huge in her luminous face. "I was beginning to think I would have to find some other way to get your attention."

"No, I, you--you have my attention," she stuttered, her sleep-filled mind unable to bring forth the words she wanted to say. Her body tensed, and a hand reached out to bat his away.

He seized her wrist, holding it in his iron grasp, his eyes daring her to try it again. "It's survival of the fittest, my little flame. Do you really think you can fight me?"

Her eyes fell as she processed his words. No, she conceded, she couldn't win against him. But for form's sake, she had to at least try. She tensed her body, ready to attempt her escape.

"No, don't even think about it," he said, reading her next move all too clearly. "I can make this quite enjoyable," he told her seductively, as his hand lightly caressed her breast, "Or I can make it something else altogether," he threatened coldly, as his fingers grabbed tight and twisted the nipple harshly, holding it there and increasing the pressure. He smiled cruelly as he heard her soft cry of pain.

Deciding that he had made his point, he released her breast, his hand coming back to lightly touch the flesh he had so recently abused. "The choice is yours, sweet Willow. Do you want it soft and sweet, or hard and brutal? Make up your mind, or I'll just choose for myself."

Her mind was awash with pain, but his words penetrated clearly enough. Stall for time, her mind screamed, knowing that such action was most likely futile. There was no way she would be able to keep him away for the four or five days needed for Jenny to finish her spell. But what else could she do?

"Are--are you going to kill me?" she whispered finally.

"Do you want me to?" he asked, his tone curious.

"No! I mean, no thank you," she answered, her tone the polite one she used for company.

"Then as long as you behave," he answered with a smile that never reached his eyes, "I won't have any reason to."

"Oh!" the word slipped out quietly from her surprised lips. Could she trust him to keep to his word? Did she have any choice?

His hands moved to unbutton the rest of her nightshirt, stopping between each button to explore the newly revealed skin. Something in her mind screamed at her to stay still. It was the same defensive reaction she had when a bee was buzzing by her, or when some other horror was just inches away. Stay still, she told her body; let him do what he wants but don't take an active part.

Soon he had reached the last button, and his hands snaked down, attempting to ease her underwear down over her hips. When she refused to lift her hips to help, his eyes traveled the length of her body lazily, coming at last to her face, reading the anger and rebellion in her eyes.

"I take it you're choosing hard and brutal, then?" he asked, shrugging philosophically as he reached down and tore the underwear from her body. The action shocked Willow, bringing a cry of pain from her lips, quickly stifled when he covered her mouth with his own.

The kiss was brutal and punishing, his lips taking no time to explore, merely forcing hers open and thrusting his tongue inside. There was no attempt at discovery or tenderness, merely the pure need to punish and dominate her in every way possible. Her body squirmed as he covered it with his, and he gave a sardonic laugh as his lips left hers.

"I did give you a choice," he reminded her mockingly, watching the tantalizing movements of her breasts as they heaved beneath him, her breath coming in harsh gulps.

"I-I'm sorry," she replied, all traces of rebellion gone from her soft eyes now, replaced by resignation and the understanding that it was within her power to make this easier on herself.

"Hmmm...is your apology too little, too late? Or should I show you that I can be merciful, if given the proper incentive?" he murmured teasingly, his lips moving over her throat, listening to the sound of her blood as it rushed by below his lips. 'So very close,' he thought, punishing himself with the knowledge.

"In-incentive?"

"Umm hmmm," he confirmed, raising his head up to meet her eyes. Her tongue poked out to lick her lips quickly, before darting back into her mouth. The action was both unknowingly erotic and extremely innocent, and his eyes grew dark with barely-restrained lust.

"Kiss me," he commanded, watching the uncertainty play on her face before she made up her mind to do what he asked. She moved her face up to meet his, her hot lips heating his cool ones as they touched. At first her motions were tentative, a gentle movement of lips against lips. But when he opened up to her, encouraging her to deepen the kiss, she opened to him as well, her tongue exploring, gently teasing, as she examined his mouth, leaving no corner untouched.

He returned the favor, his tongue delving into her mouth, sliding sensually against hers. All too soon she broke away, taking in great gulps of air, her human need to breathe working against her.

When she did this, Angelus took advantage of the opportunity to quickly divest himself of his clothing. Shirt, shoes, socks, and at last his pants came off, thrown hastily into the corner. He stood before her, the moonlight glowing around his head and giving the appearance of a halo. Willow knew that nothing could be further from the truth. But if she could keep him from killing her, then maybe, just maybe, she could make it through this.

He came to sit beside her on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers as he delved his fingers into her auburn curls. Her eyes flooded with embarrassment as his fingers teased her, circling her clit again and again as he watched her face turn a rosy pink. She was blushing. How...adorable. The word came unbidden to his mind, making him uneasy that he could ever think such thoughts about a human. She was food. A means to an end. Certainly not...adorable.

A blinding need to punish her consumed him, and he moved his fingers into her passageway, thrusting one in until it reached her maiden barrier. "A virgin. How unusual. Not many of you around in this day and age," he said mockingly, watching with satisfaction as tears began to form in her eyes. She turned her face away from him, the motion a dismissal of him and all he was doing to her.

His eyes flashed amber and he used his other hand to grasp her chin tightly, bringing her eyes back to meet his. She saw his rage there, and tried to turn her head away from him again.

"LOOK AT ME," he thundered, the voice ringing in her ears like an echo. The hand on her chin tightened and she whimpered in agony.

"That's more like it," he muttered, her pain satisfying some need deep within him. "Keep your eyes open and on me at all times," he commanded, letting go of her chin to see what she would do.

'Smart girl,' he thought, giving her a slight nod of approval as her eyes met his.

His finger was still deep inside her, and now he added a second one, moving them back and forth to stretch her tight channel. The action brought another flash of pain to her eyes, and he reveled in the knowledge that it was he that was doing this to her.

His cock was sandwiched between their bodies, the pressure to his hard length becoming almost uncomfortable as he waited for her to adjust to his spreading fingers.

Finally he stopped, removing his fingers and licking them clean of her juices. He stared into her eyes, enjoying the look of fear and, yes, curiosity that he saw in their depths.

"This will hurt a bit," he said, his voice cold and unapologetic, merely stating a fact.

She nodded at his words, her teeth worrying her lower lip as she waited for his next move.

He moved his cock to the lips of her sex, using his fingers to open them wide and moving his cock as far in as he could. The barrier of her innocence stopped him, and he waited for a moment, reveling in the tight grip in which she held him. Then when he could wait no longer, he pulled back and thrust deep inside her, tearing away her virginity in a blinding flash of pain. Her high-pitched scream and the tears that fell from her lush green eyes were almost as pleasurable as the feeling of the warm channel that clung to him tightly, and the smell of her blood as it coated his member. He growled in contentment, holding himself deep within her.

A quick glance at her face confirmed that she was still following instructions. Her eyes met his, full of pain and apprehension. This was all new to her, he reminded himself, and made an effort to move slowly, languorously in and out of her passage.

His gentle, almost teasing motions had the desired effect, and soon the pain in her eyes was slowly being replaced by desire and shame. He reached a hand out to touch her cheek, catching a tear as it slipped down her face and bringing it to his lips. His tongue snaked out to consume it, letting the taste dance on his tongue. "Delicious, you're so delicious," he murmured, bring his hand back to capture another teardrop and bring it to her lips. She opened them obediently, tasting her salty tear along with his finger, and sucking them both into her mouth.

Angelus knew that he couldn't hold back his orgasm much longer, but it was so much more important that she reach her release first. There would be no claims later that she received no pleasure from him; no cries that she had not been an equal participant in their games. His fingers traveled her body, caressing here, teasing there, moving down to sneak inside her curls once again. He found her clit and went to work on it, noting the clenching of her muscles as she came closer and closer to her own orgasm.

Soon she began to thrust her hips up to meet his, the pain fading from her eyes and being replaced by something that looked, to his practiced eye, like lust. Slowly, tentatively, she snaked her hands around his neck, pulling him down for a rough kiss, waiting curiously to see his reaction to her initiative. When he didn't object, she deepened the kiss, her hands running through his dark hair, pulling it slightly in her distraction.

Suddenly her body relaxed slightly and then her tight passage spasming around him, squeezing and releasing him in a grip that was almost painful. Her face as she came was magnificent: her cheeks flushed, mouth open in surprise, eyelids fluttering like a caged butterfly in an effort to remain open.

As her passage clutched him he came as well, shooting his seed deep within her. His demon visage came forth, aching to bury his teeth within her and drain her of her life. He chose a spot on her breast, sinking his fangs deep into her and drawing mouthful after mouthful of her sweet, spicy blood. Her eyes fluttered momentarily, before finally giving up the fight and closing in defeat.

He fought the urge to drain her, keeping his plan foremost in his mind. He moved back, easing his fangs out of her tender skin. The marks wept blood still, and his tongue ran slowly over his marks, sweeping up the last traces of the crimson liquid. He had taken more than planned, but there was no doubt in his mind that she would be fine in the morning.

His hand passed across her face in a gentle caress, tucking a stray strand of her copper hair behind her ear. He wondered what she would think upon waking the next morning. Would she be surprised? Horrified? Scared? Curious?

He stood finally, retrieving his clothes and dressing quickly before walking out of her room without a backwards glance. He made his way down the stairs and out the front door, taking care to lock up carefully behind him.

 

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