Title: Bishop
Author: Medea
Email: medealives@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction based on characters and situations created and owned by Joss Whedon and various companies. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended
Summary: Angelus has tasted Willow's blood. Willow has tasted his. Have the rules of the game changed? Sequel to 'Rook'.

It should have been a welcome respite.

But the waiting, the anticipation, was almost as exhausting and nerve-wracking as the horrific encounters she'd survived.

Angelus hadn't made an appearance for several nights now.

Well, more precisely, Willow hadn't been subjected to any unwelcome visitations.

Buffy, however, hadn't been so lucky. The gang had all learned of Buffy's awkward run-in with her once-beloved vampire when she and Angelus had been possessed by the spirits of dead lovers. Willow had offered her friend a sympathetic shoulder to cry on as Buffy exorcised the demons that had lingered even after James had left her body. Demons of the personal variety. Demons that involved Angelus replaying his morning-after rejection of the bewildered Slayer when, once again, he shoved Buffy from his embrace with what she could only describe to Willow as pure hate.

It was a detail that Willow filed away with her other suspicions about Angelus.

Meanwhile, she had trouble sleeping.

She had trouble concentrating.

She had trouble just getting up in the morning and going to school and sitting through all of her classes like the world was a big, happy, normal place.

It was like knowing there was a wasp in the room but not being able to see it.

Willow knew, she *knew*, that Angelus would be back.

And while her rational side understood that this was just another one of his mind games, that he was making himself scarce to keep her on edge, it still didn't make it any easier for Willow to calm her nerves. To her tremendous chagrin, his strategy was working. Emotionally, she was jumpy and wary. Not yelping at sudden, loud noises wary. More like pulse racing at shadows caught from the corner of her eye wary.

But she *did* still have a brain, and a plan.

She just wished she could get a break, too. There was no telling how much time any of them had. With a heavy sigh, the determined young hacker returned her attention to the computer screen. Her vision was getting a little blurry, with this being probably the fortieth internet site she'd searched. Wicca. Technopaganism. Dark Arts. Romany Rites and Rituals. Spells. Curses. Amulets and magic supplies. Forty sites, and not a single lead yet.

For the umpteenth time, Willow wished that Ms. Calendar had left records of her work, some kind of trail, anything.

Hours passed, and the only thing that disturbed the silence in Willow's room was the occasional flurry of fingertips clicking out a search string on the computer keyboard. The dimly lit room was so still that Willow nearly jumped out of her seat when she heard the oh-so-faint scratching on her glass doors.

Oh God. OhGodOhGodOhGod...

Any frustrations over waiting for Angelus to make his next move were quickly forgotten in a rush of fear as Willow looked over and saw him smiling in at her from the night. The sight of the cruel demon was disconcerting enough, but a glance down revealed something that Willow found equally disturbing and twisted.

Gripped lightly between his thumb and forefinger was a long-stemmed, blood-red rose.

An eyebrow arched above bemused, sable eyes.

She could ignore him. She could just leave her room and go to the living room (oops...window there, too), or the kitchen (nope, another window), or...

Okay, she'd be stuck sitting in the bathroom if she wanted to escape his watchful eye.

Willow set her jaw, and decided that she might as well keep him occupied. Who knows, he might get so engrossed in annoying her that he'd still be around for Buffy to stake when she arrived.

As per the gang's agreement that each of them would immediately call the others if approached by Angelus, Willow picked up her phone and dialed Buffy's number. A few quick words were all that was needed.

Then, taking a deep, calming breath, she rose and crossed to her exterior doors. Arms folded across her chest, she steeled herself to return the vampire's steady gaze without flinching, but offered him no greeting.

A point which Angelus promptly noted.

"Aww, not talking to me, sweetheart?" he chided smoothly. "Missed me *that* much? O ye of little faith! You should have known I'd come for you again, Willow."

Willow's brow wrinkled ever so slightly above the bridge of her nose as she wondered if all vampires were this arrogant, or if it was only Angelus who couldn't seem to get over himself.

"Actually, I'm surprised you've been able to stop yourself from coming after me," he added, further convincing Willow that he *really* needed to get over himself. A smug grin tugged at his lips. "Guess you just need a little coaxing."

"Nope. Just a stake, but I think I'll leave that to Buffy," Willow muttered, her face a mask of indifference.

Staring at her intently, sable eyes locked on green, Angelus countered, "You don't want to stake me, Willow. You want to taste me again. Why do you think I'm here?"

The suggestion that she'd want to...eww...summoned up a grimace that rivaled the one Willow's face had produced when she'd discovered that Xander and Cordelia were an item.

"That's just...eww," Willow declared, wrinkling her nose. "I'd say you're here to try to gross me out to death."

"Really?" Angelus asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Mustering all the nerve she could gather, Willow raised her chin and asserted, "Really."

Frowning slightly, Angelus nodded once as if he were considering the idea, then pressed with a sly grin, "So why did you open the door?"

Willow blinked.

Startled, she surveyed her surroundings and realized that instead of just talking to Angelus through the glass panes, she had somehow opened the door. All that stood between them was an invisible, supernatural barrier.

How?...When?...Whoa!

Willow jerked her hand away from the doorknob and took a step back, alarmed at how close she was to the threshold, but even more alarmed that she had done something so dangerous without even being aware of it. Her heart thumped against her chest.

"I have to admit, you surprised me," Angelus continued. "You bite like you really know your business. Very sexy, coming from a virgin."

Nausea rose in her gut at his blunt appraisal. Willow clapped a hand over her mouth, fighting it back. She'd been concerned solely with escape and survival when she'd bitten her vampire tormentor. Since then, she hadn't given much thought to the possible ramifications of her actions.

So why had she opened the door?

"Would you like another taste?" Angelus interrupted her thoughts. Wide-eyed, Willow shook her head, pressing her hand even more firmly against her mouth. He narrowed his eyes and arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure, Willow?"

Transfixed, Willow watched as Angelus slowly, methodically pierced the fleshy pad of his thumb on one of the rose's thorns. Instinctively, Willow winced. Dark red blood welled up around the thorn, then flowed freely when he pulled his wounded digit away. The sinister vampire held his thumb out invitingly.

"You know about the power of vampire blood, don't you, Willow?" Angelus said, his voice low and seductive. "It's where the demon resides. Even the smallest taste will mark you. You can feel it calling to you, can't you?"

Chills ran down Willow's spine. She'd spit it out! She had!

But...

...what if?...

Her eyes clouded with a haunted, faraway look. Willow's murmured "no" was muffled by her hand, muting her protest, mocking the strength of her conviction.

She couldn't stop herself from staring, fascinated, as a series of ruby droplets fell from Angelus's thumb and splattered on the ground.

Willow shook herself, inwardly chiding herself to snap out of it and focus. He was toying with her, that's all it was. She wasn't under any spell, she was just tired. This was another mind game.

Lowering her hand from her mouth, she steadied herself against the door and said quietly, "I don't feel anything. If I opened the door, it was only because....because I'm tired! I wasn't thinking clearly."

Which was true enough. Willow had been working on her special project for hours and it was well after midnight.

Angelus, however, would hear none of it.

"Not thinking clearly? That's pretty dangerous in these parts, wouldn't you say?" he observed darkly. "Protest all you like, Willow, but you did taste my blood, and the demon has touched you. You and I have shared in a communion far more binding than that mockery of a ritual performed by priests. I'm in you now: that disturbing thought that you just can't get out of your mind; that urge to taste power, *dark* power, and let it work its will through you. And it's only going to get stronger."

"No," Willow repeated uneasily. Fear, denial, and anger all left their traces on her furrowed brow. "You didn't drain me first, and I spit most of it out--"

A low chuckle cut her off. "Willow, I've been a vampire for over two centuries. Do you really think you know more about the power of blood than I do?"

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Willow focused her attention on regular, steady breathing, trying to keep herself from panicking. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to, because he was right: there had to be all sorts of things about vampires that weren't in the Watcher Chronicles. She didn't *feel* different, didn't notice any strange impulses or desires. No! No desires! Desire was not a good word to have on her mind right now...

But, then, she also hadn't noticed opening the door, either. Kind of a really big thing to miss.

The sudden kiss of a raindrop just above her lip startled Willow and brought her back to her immediate surroundings. Her eyes darted from the patiently menacing vampire before her to the still, clear darkness of her back yard. Wait, it wasn't raining.

Moisture tickled her upper lip. Tentatively, Willow swept a fingertip through it, then brought her hand down to behold a glistening, scarlet smear. Her heart nearly leaped into her throat.

"Go ahead, Willow. Taste. There's plenty more where that came from, and I'm feeling generous tonight," Angelus urged, his voice hushed and soft as velvet.

Yet it was his voice, his words, that broke the spell. They were indeed compelling. Their suggestive power was so formidable that, for a brief moment, Willow actually considered flicking out her tongue and testing her reaction to Angelus's blood. Until she realized that she felt no irresistible pull, no inner craving for it. Why would he have to encourage her if his blood really had some strange, demonic hold over her?

That big faker.

He was trying to play her by going to the true source of control and fear: belief.

Raising her eyes, she fixed Angelus with a steady, determined gaze, then slowly wiped her finger clean on her shirt (which she promised herself she would either wash or burn tomorrow).

"It isn't a question of which one of us *knows* more about...blood," Willow said at last, a slight hitch in her voice at the mention of blood. "It's a question of what you're trying to get me to believe. And the only thing you know how to do is lie."

Angelus tilted his head to the side, smiling lazily and squinting ever so slightly, like a parent amused by a willful child. "I don't have to try. You'll feel it, and you'll know soon enough. Just as I thought you'd slipped through my fingers again, you went and made it easy for me. Already, you can't bring yourself to shut the door and block me out, when that's exactly what you *should* do. In a few nights, you'll walk out to me without the slightest hesitation when I come for you, because I have something you want." The handsome, deadly vampire leaned forward, his gaze piercing, hungry. "And then I'll bite you the way you should be bitten."

"There is *no* way I should be bitten. Biting and me don't go together," Willow insisted, gripping the doorknob tightly as anger and defiance flushed her cheeks.

"Oh, I know exactly how you should be bitten," Angelus countered smoothly. "Long, slow, and dee--"

Willow's voice rose, cutting him off. "You know, you and Xander are a lot alike."

Her abrupt change of subject had the intended effect. Angelus scowled in disgust. "Willow, you must be pretty desperate if you need to resort to petty name-calling. Don't tell me you're every bit as childish as your years would suggest. I'd thought better of you."

Unperturbed, Willow stared him down, her expression that of mild boredom. "You both go out of your way to make a lot of annoying, smart-aleck remarks when you're trying to keep anyone else from figuring out that you're hurting. The difference is, I like Xander, so I can sympathize with him."

Angelus folded his arms across his chest, fixing Willow with a gaze that said, 'you've got to be kidding'.

"I have as much in common with Harris as the Taj Mahal has with a toilet," Angelus growled, noticeably irritated.

"You really loved her, didn't you?" Willow continued as if she hadn't heard him.

"I told you, Buffy means nothing--"

"Not Buffy. Darla."

For a moment, there was dead silence, so harsh it almost cut the air. Emotions that Willow had never seen on the dark vampire's face, whether Angel or Angelus, now struggled for dominance. Shock. Anguish. Loss. But then, an all-to-familiar flame burned in his cold, dark eyes.

Hate.

"Where do you think you're going with this, Willow?" Angelus demanded softly, his entire body deceptively still.

A tight knot of fear settled in Willow's throat. She swallowed, but managed to say, "Xander still has nightmares, every now and then, about the night he staked Jesse. He knows it wasn't his fault, but that's the worst part: he couldn't do *anything*. All he could do was watch while his best friend crumbled to dust." Willow paused once more to steel herself, then hit home. "He's moved on, mostly, but deep down it still haunts him. Just like Darla haunts you."

It would have been easier, more reassuring, if Angelus had exploded with rage. Or threats -- threats and anger would have been understandable. But never had Willow felt so uneasy as when she saw his face go completely blank and unreadable. His entire demeanor was as cool and lifeless as the corpse that he was. Whatever his true reaction to Willow's veiled speculation about Darla, he had masked it completely.

At that display of self-discipline, Willow appreciated more than ever that she was dealing with an extremely powerful master vampire. She was suddenly grateful that she hadn't voiced all of her suspicions. Angelus was already out to kill her. Willow imagined that her death would be particularly painful if she reminded him that he had been powerless, forced to watch as the soul forever deprived him of the one who had made him and who had been his lover of nearly a hundred and fifty years.

All for the love of a *Slayer*.

"I'm a vampire, not a ghost. The haunted routine isn't my style," Angelus retorted evenly, without so much as a hint of passion in his voice.

"I'm not a vampire," Willow countered somewhat shakily, "and the stalking routine isn't my style. Good night, Angelus."

With that, Willow moved to close her door.

"This isn't over," Angelus promised, his voice flat and void of all seduction. "You won't win this, Willow. You can't, not against me."

Willow nodded, a cryptic smile teasing at her mouth. "I know. I could never beat you, not at a game you've been playing for longer than I've even been alive. But I don't have to, not all by myself. I've got Buffy, and Giles, and Xander, and Oz. Together, we just might win. Besides, winning is more than just the sum of all possible moves of the pieces on the board. It's figuring out the other person's weakness." As Willow latched the door firmly in place, she murmured through the glass, "And I know your weakness."

Jaw clenched, Angelus stepped forward, looming down at her from the other side of the glass. "And I know yours. Six or seven minutes, Willow. That's all I'll need."

He smiled, eyes dark with malice, raised the rose to his lips, kissed it, and let it drop to the ground. Willow watched as he faded out into the night. Only when he was no longer a chilling presence in the shadows did Willow relax, feeling so emotionally drained that she nearly collapsed.

They'd better win this.

Willow had no doubt that one didn't pour salt in Angelus's wounds and live to tell about it for very long.

She didn't allow herself to dwell on such morbid thoughts for long, though. Buffy arrived not long after Angelus's departure, somewhat surprised to find Willow alone. After Willow reassured her that Angelus hadn't done much more than "be a big meanie", the two friends curled up with hot chocolate and consoled each other. It was exactly what Willow needed: a reminder that, no matter how much Angelus lied and manipulated, there were things she *could* trust and believe in.

Her friends.

No matter how dark things got, they could save each other.

"So, are you still going to help me study for my chemistry exam, Miss I-Got-An-A+-In-Spite-Of-An-Irritating-Vampire-Who-Trapped-Me-In-A-Box-The-Night-Before?" Buffy asked, pouting slightly. "I may not be scared of self-centered vampires who get off on picking on my friends, but I'm deathly afraid of finals."

Willow grinned. "I think we can arrange some study time to prepare you for slayage of the periodic table..."

THE END