Title: Knight
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 attempts to outwit Willow after her narrow escape in the alley wounds his ego. Can she cheat death a second time? Sequel to 'Pawn'.

/*Take that, covalent bonds!*/

Willow found she had a surprising amount of mental clarity during her chem exam, despite the harrowing experience of facing off against Angelus the night before. Somehow, the periodic table just didn't seem as intimidating after that.

Given the choice between a cold-blooded killer and atomic weights, she'd take the latter, any day.

Willow even managed to stay awake through her other classes, although her mind wandered when she was supposed to be taking notes in American history. Her Honors Lit class, on the other hand, hit a little too close to home. Discussing Poe's 'Cask of Amontillado' sent chills down her spine, as she remembered what it felt like to be trapped in a tiny, cramped space by a vampire who had every intention of killing her.

All in all, it made for a tiring day. Manageable, but tiring. After her last class, Willow was more than ready to take refuge in the library.

Buffy, Xander, and Oz were already gathered around the gang's usual table in earnest discussion with Giles when she strolled in. The abrupt, awkward break in conversation made it pretty clear what they had been talking about.

"Hey guys," Willow greeted them as casually as possible.

A chorus of "heys" and "hey Willows" rose up. Giles, however, remained silent, his expression heavy with worry. As she approached, the concerned Watcher stepped forward to meet her.

"Your friends have told me about last night," he said, his brow furrowing slightly. "Are you all right?"

"I'm okay," Willow assured him, mustering the most upbeat, go-get-'em smile she could. "Maybe a little tired, but I'll be fine. Hey, I was good enough today to survive one of Ms. Maestretti's chem exams."

"Two terrifying experiences in 24 hours, Wills. You're on a roll," Xander teased.

Willow grinned at her best bud, grateful that Xander knew her well enough to lighten the mood so she wouldn't be the center of an inquisition, no matter how well-intentioned. She definitely didn't want her run-in with Angelus to dampen everyone's spirits. If that happened, then in a small way, he won.

"All the same, don't hesitate to talk to any of us, if you need to," Giles insisted soberly. He looked at all of the assembled teenagers. "Angelus poses a great threat and none of you should feel like you need to handle it alone. On that note, Buffy, you and I should intensify your work-out routine."

"Oh, goody! It's pound-on-Giles time," the Slayer quipped with a smirk.

"Yes, well, you needn't sound so delighted about it," her Watcher muttered peevishly.

Buffy and Giles split off to start her training session, while Xander, Willow, and Oz settled in with their homework. After an hour or so, Giles was fatigued enough that he agreed Buffy could hit the shower and call it a day. Buffy suggested a quick, afternoon chocolatey indulgence at the Bronze, which sounded like a good idea to the rest of the gang.

All except Willow.

Oz brushed his hand gently over hers, understanding. "It doesn't have to be the Bronze. We could go somewhere else."

"Yeah, we could get our required daily allowance of grease over at the Doublemeat Palace," Xander suggested with a goofy grin.

Willow rolled her eyes in disdain, but grinned back. Buffy likewise rolled her eyes and drawled, "Please -- we're not that desperate. What, like there's nothing in Sunnydale besides vamps, the Bronze, and the Doublemeat Palace?" Abruptly, she paused and wrinkled her brow. "There *is* more to life than vamps and the Bronze, isn't there?"

Everyone chuckled ruefully at the reminder of how freakishly bizarre their "normal routine" was.

"Seriously, you go ahead," Willow urged, squeezing Oz's hand reassuringly while smiling at her friends. "I'm not feeling too up with the social scene right now. I think the quiet, book scene is more my speed. But you, go, make with the imbibing of fizzy beverages and chocolatey goodness."

"You sure?" Xander pressed.

"Resolve face," Willow confirmed, flashing him her sternest look of determination. He grinned back at her and seemed a little more at ease.

Oz faced her and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. "The Dingoes are practicing in an hour. I can cancel if you want some company."

Willow shook her head and gave him a gentle smile. "No, I'm okay. Call me after?"

"Will do," Oz murmured, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. He leaned close and kissed her softly, then left with Buffy and Xander.

Left on her own in the library, Willow turned toward the stacks, fully intending to scour the collections for a few volumes on vampires. She told herself that she wasn't really trying to handle Angelus on her own. She just wanted to be prepared. And well-informed was well-armed.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Giles spoke behind her.

"Now that the others are gone, Willow, I'd like to ask you again: are you sure you're all right?"

For once, Willow's usual, upbeat chatter abandoned her and she hesitated, turning slowly to face the concerned librarian but unable to answer him. It was confirmation enough for Giles, though, who advised gently, "This isn't something you need handle on your own, Willow. Angelus is very, very dangerous. With the possible exception of Buffy, not one of us is a match for him. Besides," Giles took a step toward her. "Your friends care about you and they want to help, just as you are always ready to help them."

"I know," Willow agreed, smiling sheepishly. "I'm not even much of a match for the cafeteria lady when she's cranky. Trust me, no delusions of grandeur here. I just wanted to read up so I could be as prepared as possible. You know -- in case. And besides," the young redhead shrugged and glanced downward self-consciously, "I feel safer here. The library is sort of more homey than home is and, um, you're here..."

"Make no mistake, Willow, I'm no match for Angelus, either," Giles cautioned. However, her words left him beaming with pride. "Still, if you'd like to arm yourself with knowledge, I may have a few volumes of interest..."

With that, Giles went to his office and retrieved a few tomes from his private collection. Beckoning Willow to join him at a table in the center of the library, he set the heavy, leatherbound volumes down and thumbed through one of them until he came to a specific section. To Willow's delight, she realized that he was sharing with her the official Watchers journals. Giles spoke with the animation of one who rarely had an occasion to converse about his area of expertise -- at least, with anyone who was actually interested in listening -- and pointed out key passages on Angelus's past history.

Willow scoured the pages avidly for three-quarters of an hour, keeping an eye on the clock. When it was about an hour before dusk, she asked Giles if he could drive her by the local magic shop so she could pick up a few supplies she wanted to have on hand should her least-favorite stalker pay her a visit. Giles agreed, and even dropped her off at home afterward, making her promise to check in with him again the next day.

Dinner was uneventful. Her parents, who remained oblivious about Willow's ordeal from the previous evening, asked about the chem exam, and expressed curiosity about the purchases she'd lugged in with her. They readily accepted her explanation that she'd bought a few things to improve her aquarium, glad that she wasn't abandoning it just because all of her fish had unfortunately died a few weeks ago.

Willow's parents remained oblivious about a lot of things, actually.

As she was excusing herself from the table, her parents reminded her that they were leaving for a conference on behavioral psychology in Chicago early in the morning. Inwardly, Willow was relieved in a way. She wouldn't have to worry about Angelus threatening them, and she could stay over at Buffy's or Xander's, just to be safe.

Once in her room, Willow set about putting her purchases from the magic shop to good use. She needed something unobtrusive but easily accessible, something she could get to if Angelus showed up unexpectedly, but that wouldn't make him suspicious.

Her gaze fell on the aquarium and she almost giggled.

Well, why not? He'd used it against her.

It took a fair amount of work, but Willow wanted to be sure she did things the right way. She'd just barely finished when Oz called to check in. Happy to hear his voice, she settled in on her bed and talked with him about his rehearsal, her 'special project', and life in general.

They had been chattering away with each other for nearly forty-five minutes when it happened.

A movement in the shadows outside her window caught Willow's attention, an ominous phantom flitting at the edge of her vision that sent chills down her spine. It was the stuff of horror movies, a presence felt rather than seen. Somehow, Willow knew.

In a soft, shaky voice, she interrupted Oz as he talked about a new stereo he'd like to get for his van.

"Oz...he's here."

There was a brief, tense silence.

"I'll round everyone up. We'll be right over," Oz promised, then hung up.

Willow knew he had to hang up, that it marked the beginning of her rescue. She still wanted to call him back. Anything, to save her from the terrifying realization that she was alone and under the scrutiny of a killer. She longed for the reassuring security of Oz's voice.

She didn't want to turn around. Every nerve in her body rebelled at the idea and clamored in fearful protest. Yet Willow nonetheless found herself turning to look outside at the monster who was watching her.

What she saw was far worse than she'd anticipated. Willow couldn't stop the dismayed gasp from slipping past her lips.

Angelus, garbed from head-to-toe in black and looking very much the executioner, was indeed standing on the other side of her glass doors, regarding her with a smile so sinister it was more of a taunt, a sneer. But to Willow's profound horror, kneeling in front of the dark vampire was a thin, haggard shell of a man, his clothes rumpled and soiled, his eyes vacant and dull with stupor. The poor man was so incoherent that Angelus had only to steady him lightly, by the scruff of the neck.

Willow saw all too clearly why.

On his neck were two prominent puncture wounds, still oozing slightly.

Willow's throat went dry. Instinctively, she swallowed.

Piercing, sable eyes fixed on hers as Angelus slowly raised his hand and crooked his index finger, beckoning Willow toward him. She desperately wanted to close her drapes and block him out. Now, she couldn't. She shuddered to imagine the consequences for that poor man if she refused to play the demon's game.

Reluctantly, Willow approached the glass doors. Of all the features of her room, they had always been her favorite because they let the sunlight stream in. Now, they seemed all too fragile and transparent, completely inadequate as a shield against the danger without.

"Open the door, Willow," Angelus commanded quietly.

"I'm not letting you in. You're not invited," Willow protested shakily.

"Open. The. Door," Angelus repeated, his expression hardening.

He tightened his grip and Willow cringed as the poor vagrant at his feet choked for air. Steeling herself, she opened the door just a crack and peered out from behind it, masking half her face behind the wooden frame.

At Willow's timid compliance, Angelus relaxed his grip.

"Hey, Willow," he greeted her cordially. "Look who I ran into in your old neighborhood. I thought you might like to thank him for the hospitality."

Willow bowed her head sadly and closed her eyes. She took a deep, shaky breath, then retorted, "No...you brought him here so you could kill him in front of me."

Her adversary feigned surprise, blinking at the pitiful man at his feet as if considering him in an entirely new light. "Well, gosh, Willow -- that's an interesting idea you have. I suppose I could, if you insist. So, how would you like me to kill him? Me, I'd go with snapping his neck, although I suppose I could finish draining him if you'd prefer. But like I told you, street people leave a bad taste in my mouth."

"Don't," the despondent redhead whispered, heartsick at the thought that Angelus would murder that poor man just to spite her. Numbly she raised her head and opened red-rimmed eyes to gaze defeatedly at the dark vampire. "Please...don't."

Angelus smiled in cruel triumph.

"Then give me what I want, Willow. Come here."

Heart pounding in her chest, Willow tried to stall, knowing that her friends were on their way.

"Let him go first," Willow insisted.

Angelus arched an eyebrow and 'tsked' her. Pressing his fingers down on the flesh where he'd bitten his captive, he provoked a renewed flow of blood from the wounds. Sluggish, scarlet streams bathed the man's neck, wrenching a pitiful groan from the unfortunate wretch.

"You're really not in any position to be making demands, little girl."

Whether it was due to the grisly sight of blood coursing from angry wounds, or the vampire's tone of disdain, Willow felt a surge of anger and adrenaline flood through her. She stiffened and glared defiantly at Angelus. "I'm *not* coming out until you let him go, since you'd only kill us both! You're not exactly in a position to issue absolute ultimatums, either, *old* *man*."

"Temper, temper, Willow," Angelus chuckled. He raked his eyes over her appreciatively. Although Willow was wearing jeans and a loose-fitting, long-sleeved shirt, she suddenly felt the need to cover herself. "You know, you wouldn't be half-bad as a vampire," he observed thoughtfully.

Willow's heart nearly stopped then and there.

"I tell you what," Angelus continued, "We'll make an even exchange. I'll drop him across the threshold as you step out. Fair enough?"

After several agonizing moments, Willow nodded. She couldn't bring herself to answer out loud. If she tried to agree verbally to her own death sentence, she feared her voice would crack.

Her stomach did queasy flip-flops as she opened the door wide. Angelus stepped closer, dragging his dazed prisoner forward like a sack of garbage.

Willow forced herself to meet her tormentor's gaze, but was unable to hold it longer than a few seconds. Abruptly, she stepped away from the door and toward her fish tank.

"J-just let me feed m-my fish," she stammered, reaching for the jar of dehydrated flakes.

"Willow, the longer you delay, the less time he has to live," Angelus warned. "Don't test my patience."

As she tapped the food into her fish tank, the dark vampire added, "At least *these* fish will outlive you."

At the reference to his earlier, macabre slaughter of her fish, Willow dropped the entire jar into the fish tank. Angelus chuckled at her apparent panic, but missed the determined gleam in Willow's eyes. She reached in and plucked out the lightweight container, which floated on the top, but took the time to submerge her hand in the process, completely drenching it.

She set the food jar to the far side of the tank, not bothering to dry her hand.

Time to face the music.

Willow stepped back to the door.

Nearly hyperventilating, she inched her foot toward the threshold.

To her relief, as she crossed it, Angelus actually kept his word and shoved his hostage inside to safety.

Her relief was cut short, however, when strong, deadly hands seized her arms, pinning them to her sides, and drew her close. She found herself trapped against a chest that was about as yielding as granite.

"Now this is more like it," Angelus murmured, bowing his head to nuzzle just behind her ear. Willow couldn't prevent herself from shivering. As her pulse raced, her captor inhaled deeply and murmured, "So intoxicating...you're terrified. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed fear this sweet. Of course, I haven't really been myself in, oh, say, a century."

Willow squirmed against him, trying to twist her vulnerable neck away from that deadly mouth, while at the same time working to free her dampened hand.

"Atta girl," Angelus purred approvingly. "Struggle. Struggle as hard as you can. You'll fail, though, and it will only leave you tired...and pliant..."

Ignoring his taunts, Willow continued to rail against his iron embrace, wondering if she hadn't made a fatal miscalculation. Silently, she urged her friends to hurry.

She yelped and bucked against Angelus's arms at the chilling sensation of his tongue on her neck. The moist tip danced over her pulse point, then traced a cool, slick trail down the entire length of her slender column of flesh, mapping her vein with terrifying precision.

"Any last requests, Willow?"

"Uh-huh. Let me go."

"Hmm...nope," the dark vampire laughed softly against her neck, playfully nipping at different spots, a sinister, mocking prelude of what was to come. "See, if I don't eat you, sooner or later it will just be some other vamp. You don't realize what a delicacy you are. Young. Timid. So easy to terrorize. Besides, like I told you, this will break the Slayer's heart."

"And you hate her that much?" Willow whispered sadly.

A moment later, she hissed in pain as Angelus yanked brutally on her hair, forcing her to raise her chin and look him in the eye. Willow managed to keep her wits about her, though, and shifted her arm so that she might have a chance at freeing her hand. "She's not worth the effort," he sneered contemptuously. "Buffy is an inconsequential little girl who just happens to be the Slayer. For that alone, I'd break her. After a century in cold storage, watching while that pathetic soul squandered a reputation I worked hard to earn, let *everything* crumble to dust, I need a really spectacular kill to get the taste out of my mouth. But. She. Means. Nothing. To. Me."

He punctuated his last words by squeezing her upper arms so hard that Willow was certain they would be bruised tomorrow. If she survived.

It was now or never.

With his grip on her upper arms, Willow was better able to maneuver her hands. Swiftly, she brought her wet hand up and pressed it against his wrist. Upon contact, the dark vampire's skin hissed beneath hers and he jerked his hand away. Partly freed, Willow was able to swing her arm back and do something she'd really, really wanted to do last night.

She slapped Angelus in the face as if it were the last thing she'd ever do.

Since, she realized, it might be.

Her palm caught him clean across the eyes, and like his hand, they hissed and burned. Instinctively, Angelus snarled in pain and pressed both of his hands against his abused face.

Seizing her opportunity, Willow bolted for her wide-open door. It took her all of three steps, but they were the longest three steps of her life. Once safely back inside, she spun around, trembling involuntarily, to look at Angelus.

He rubbed his shirt sleeve across his eyes, wiping away as much of the searing moisture as he could, and blinked rapidly in obvious discomfort.

Scowling in frustration, Angelus strode forward and slammed himself against the invisible barrier that denied him free entry to Willow's home. Willow cringed, imagining that he would roar or throw things and wake her parents. Her stomach clenched each time he rebounded and although she knew the unconscious man who lay beside her was safely inside her room, she nonetheless felt compelled to try to scoot his feet further away from the threshold.

"Don't bother," Angelus spat out curtly. "He's as good as dead."

Willow's head snapped up.

Her chin trembled in confusion and she parted her lips to protest that the hospital might be able to save him, that he could get a massive transfusion, but her demon opponent cut her off.

"Heroin overdose. Easy enough to administer after I'd drained him of a few pints. Believable enough for the police: another dead, homeless junkie. You never even had a chance to save his life."

Stunned, Willow could only gape at the cold-hearted killer who gazed back at her with a combination of dismissive boredom and calculation. He'd tricked her, but rather than laughing it up over her gullibility, Angelus seemed to be strategizing, assessing this latest encounter and filing it away for future reference. She almost wished he would laugh and gloat -- it would be less frightening.

When she finally found her voice, Willow could only whisper, "You're evil."

This earned a smirk, although his eyes were cold and deadly serious.

"Sweetheart, I wrote the book." Angelus folded his arms across his chest and appraised her critically, cocking his head to the side and arching an eyebrow. "Although, maybe I should take a few notes from you. Holy water in the fish tank. Not bad. See, I told you that you weren't a pawn. You're not that straightforward."

A sickening, sour, bile taste rose in the back of Willow's throat at his twisted praise. Like she wanted a fiend like Angelus to find *anything* admirable about her -- not! She watched as he clasped his hands behind his back and paced thoughtfully just outside her door.

"You definitely have a talent for the unpredictable, I'll give you that," came the cool, dispassionate evaluation. "No simple linear moves for you: you've learned how to think in unexpected directions, and you don't balk at an obstacle in your path. The trouble for you, though, is I'm the same way. And you should remember, Willow--" The dark vampire halted and faced her, riveting her attention to his challenging gaze. "I have far more moves than you do, and I have time. By definition, more time than a mortal child like you. I can afford to be very patient and very persistent. You can't lock yourself away in a tower forever, little maid. Sooner or later, you'll have to come out. And I'll be waiting."

Clenching her jaw, Willow slowly rose to her feet and closed her doors in the vampire's face. Through glass panes, she locked eyes with the monster who had once been a trusted member of her circle of friends. It hurt so much to know that she would never be able to look at him the same way again because, tonight, Angelus had brought death into her home. It might be physically impossible for him to trespass, but he had violated the sanctity and innocence of her room nonetheless.

Her safe haven was tainted by his fatal handiwork.

With a fluid grace that seemed incongruous with such brutality, Angelus drew near the glass. Steadily holding her gaze, he winked at her and then faded out into the night.

Only then did Willow let herself cry.

That was how her friends found her when they arrived moments later, stakes and crossbows at the ready. Frantically, Buffy flung open Willow's door, searching for any sign of her nemesis. Xander and Oz followed breathlessly at her heels. Almost as one, they froze, their expressions clouding with horror and empathy at the sight of Willow seated on the floor beside the lifeless body of a weathered, worn old man, her arms wrapped around her knees as she rocked and softly wept.

"Oh, God," Xander murmured.

Oz set down his stake, knelt beside his traumatized girlfriend, and enveloped her in a sheltering, sympathetic embrace.

All four of them shared a grim, silent moment of contemplation, sobered by the concrete evidence of how far Angelus was prepared to go in his crusade to destroy Buffy and her friends.

At last, Buffy broached the sensitive topic of what to do with the body. It was agreed that they couldn't take the body to the police and explain to Sunnydale's finest that the man had been murdered by a psychotic vampire. As depressing as it was, it seemed that the best solution was for Buffy to take him back to the alley and leave him in his box.

Inwardly, Willow's once-indomitable and sensitive spirit suffered another cruel blow as she thought of Angelus, laughing scornfully as they were forced to play out the very scenario he'd described. They would leave the body to be discovered and written off as just another dead, homeless addict.

She clung to Oz even more tightly.

Buffy returned shortly after she had disposed of the body. Unlike the previous evening, Willow's friends refused to leave her alone. Oz shared her bed, stretching out on top of the covers beside her and cradling her in his arms until she fell asleep. Buffy and Xander slept on the floor, albeit with weapons firmly in their grip.

As the first rays of sunlight kissed their faces in the morning, announcing the end of their nightmares, if only for another twelve hours, the teenagers roused themselves so that Buffy, Xander and Oz could slip out before Willow's parents awakened.

In troubled silence, the four friends looked down at the dew-bathed ground outside Willow's room at what appeared to be the broken remnants of another chess piece. The young redhead opened her door and scooped up the fragments, arranging them in her palm until she was able to see the shape of a rook.

A slight shiver ran through her as she imagined Angelus crushing it effortlessly with his bare hand. It was a warning and a reminder: as far as the dark vampire was concerned, the game was still afoot. But he was through with flattery and was no longer interested in obscure compliments about her ability to shift in unexpected directions. He hadn't left a knight.

No, Willow understood the shattered rook all too well.

There was no safety in castles.

She closed her hand around the pieces and frowned in determination.

Willow Rosenberg refused to break that easily.

THE END