Escape Me Never
Author: NA20
Fandom: buffy
Pairing(s): angel/us/willow
Warnings: non con, angst, WIP
Spoilers: na
Summary: angel tries to make up to willow for what angelus did to her.
Nominated Category:
Best Established Relationship - Other
Prologue
It was another Sunday afternoon in Sunnydale, California. The citizens were enjoying the day, seemingly oblivious to the fact that each one of them was lucky to have survived another night. They were blissfully unaware of the forces that ruled their town when night fell and the sun no longer lit the dark corners of their world, and they seemed destined to remain that way. Especially on days like today. Peaceful, sunny days. Children were riding their bicycles; pedestrians thronged the sidewalks outside the busy shops and restaurants in the center of town; cars made their way to the beach or other places of amusement. It was a picture-postcard day; no work, no school, no cares, no worries.
To anyone walking past Sunnydale High, all looked as it should. The parking lot was empty, the buildings appeared deserted, even the janitors were home with their families and friends, enjoying the weekend, before the sharp sound of school bells and the roar of teenage hordes made this a bustling center of activity once more.
But if anyone had been inclined to peer through the windows of the school library, they would have seen that all was not so quiet and empty as it seemed. For the school was not entirely deserted after all. No, there were four people solemnly gathered amidst the desks and bookcases; four people who knew too much about the true nature of Sunnydale; about the forces that ruled it; and about the danger that lurked in every corner. They had come on foot, not wanting their vehicles to give away their presence to spying eyes, and they had come with a purpose. They had one chance, one hope, though it was a faint one, to save one of their own from the clutches of the darkest evil that dwelt in their midst.
The Slayer, her Watcher, a gypsy, and a best friend sat in a circle, the tools of a once-lost spell at its center. They were silent, too afraid to speak of what they feared most. That they would fail. That they were too late. That their friend was lost to them forever. So they kept quiet. But for a moment, the panic took over as Buffy, Giles, and Xander looked at each other, then looked away. The sight of their terror reflected in each other’s eyes was too much. It threatened to break the composure and focus they needed to make this work. To be the heroes who saved the day for the most innocent and least deserving of a terrible fate of any of them, the heroes who came to Willow’s rescue, a rescue which they hoped against hope was not too late already. So all eyes focused on Jenny, trying desperately to believe that the daughter of the people who had cursed Angel to begin with had the strength to curse him again.
If she felt the weight of her mission, Jenny gave nothing away. She appeared utterly calm, as if she were performing an everyday task. She looked down, mentally tallying what sat before her, then visibly centered herself. With a barely perceptible nod, she motioned for Giles to start the spell.
“Quod perditum est. Invenietur.”
“Not dead, nor not of the living. Spirits of the interrignum I call.”
As the power worked its way through Jenny Calendar, a vampiress in a mansion at the other end of town began to shriek and wail. Her worst fear was coming to pass and it could not be stopped. Drusilla slumped to the floor as the spell was completed, helpless in the face of the forces which were taking her sire away from her. The soul of a vampire had been restored. Angelus was Angel once more.
Chapter One
Angel felt as though he was coming to after having been knocked unconscious. His thoughts were foggy and confused and he wasn’t quite sure where he was. Bits and pieces, fragments of incidents and conversations, came rushing into his brain, but he could make no sense of them. His last clear memory was of a searing pain ripping through him as he lay in bed next to Buffy.
Their lovemaking had been sweet, so tender and human that he had forgotten that he was a vampire, a demon, a cursed thing. He had felt like a man, the man his love deserved, and it had given him a sense of peace he thought he’d never find after everything he had been and done. Then came the pain, and then the nothingness, the nothingness that, with growing horror, he realized had not been nothingness at all. He had lost his soul; Angelus had been set free.
The sound of a heartbeat and a soft, tuneless humming drew his eyes to a corner of the dark bedroom he found himself in. If he were human, the darkness might have concealed from him the small shape huddled in the corner, but he was a vampire and his eyes caught the faint glow of red hair as if it were a candle while his nostrils filled with the scents of innocence and vanilla, picking them out from the strands of surrender, pain, and sex with which they were mingled. Red hair and innocence. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t. . .
But it was. His eyes and his sense of smell weren’t deceiving him. Willow Rosenberg was here in this cold, dark room, shivering against the chill in a thin silk shift. She had obviously been kept here for Angelus’ pleasure and the thought of what she must have endured was like a knife in his heart. As his memories began to tell him the tale of how she had come to be here and what he had done to her, Angel walked towards the girl in the corner... towards Willow.
He couldn’t believe his luck. Here he was at good guy central, Sunnydale High, and not only did Angelus’ senses tell him that the slayer wasn’t here, but her two closest pals, Willow and Xander, were all alone in the darkened school hallway, like two stray lambs waiting for a wolf to happen by. And wouldn’t you know it? He’d just gotten his fangs back. Some nights it was just great to be undead.
“Willow. Xander.” He schooled his voice to sound like that of his sniveling, souled counterpart.
“Angel. Thank God you’re okay.”
Angelus almost bit through his tongue stifling the laughter that bubbled up at Willow’s unbelievable naivete. Imagine. Thanking God on behalf of a vampire. Sure, it was probably just a figure of speech, but still. . .
“Did you see Buffy?”
“Yeah. What’s up with the lights?” Those two crazy kids obviously had no idea he was back to his old self again; still, he figured he’d best forestall any suspicions about the source of the darkness he himself had created. Clumsy though his question was, and he almost winced the second the words left his mouth, they didn’t seem the least bit wary of him. Xander was an idiot, of course, and probably had a hard time even *spelling* the word ‘demon,’ but Willow was brilliant, at least in terms of book learning and computers. You’d have thought she’d be more careful, what with him being a *vampire* and all. Soulboy must have done more damage to his demonic credibility than he’d ever believed possible. Too bad he couldn’t torture that damn soul until he begged for death. Guess being back in charge would have to do by way of revenge.
“I don’t know. Listen, I think I have an idea.”
And once again Angelus had to fight to keep from dissolving in laughter. Doughnut-boy had an idea? What could that possibly be? A new way to make himself the laughingstock of Sunnydale? The idea of Xander even thinking at all was almost impossibly hilarious. With a source of amusement like this around, why the hell was the damn soul so depressed all the time? You’d think the court jester over there could have inspired a *bit* of mirth in the King of Brood. The soul was well and truly a worthless pussy.
“Forget about that now. I’ve got something to show you.” Yeah, a *real* vampire, Angelus thought to himself, and your own death.
“Show us?”
There was that sweet, innocent voice again. Willow.
Angelus pondered for a moment. While the idea of tearing Xander’s throat out and leaving his dismembered corpse for Buffy to find had a certain winsome charm, perhaps that would be the wrong approach here. There might be a better way of celebrating his return.
“Xander, go get the others.”
“Okay.” The gullible moron loped off to the library, leaving Angelus alone with his prey, the girl who would help make his first night back after a hellishly long time in captivity to a gypsy curse a memorable one.
“And Willow, c’mere.”
“What is it, Angel?” She stepped into the shadows where he stood, so trusting. Watching her walk guilelessly into his trap was more erotically satisfying than anything that had happened with the Slayer. How Soulboy had gotten his rocks off with all that kissy-kissy, lovey-dovey crap was a mystery to Angelus. *This*? Innocence offering itself to be corrupted and devoured? Now *that* was what got a *demon* off.
“It’s amazing.”
He struck before she had a chance to figure out her mistake, grabbing her and muffling her scream with a hand over her mouth. His other hand had a more pleasant time of it, getting a feel for the surprisingly alluring attributes the shy young thing kept carefully hidden. Well, Angel had gotten some tonight, it was only fair that Angelus should get some, too. With that thought, he sank his fangs into Willow’s throat, taking just enough blood to render her insensible. Now it was time to head out before the cavalry returned and found that the fair hacker and the friendly vampire were nowhere to be seen. Wonder how long it would take them to figure out that the Slayer’s puppy had slipped his leash?
Angel wanted to sob; to beg Willow’s forgiveness; to find a stake, hand it to her, and let her take her revenge. But he knew that would be self-serving, an escape for him and of no use to her. Right now she needed him to get her out of this place and back to her family and friends. His senses told him that his childer and minions had fled - though he wasn’t sure they would stay away - making Willow safe from the rest of his clan for the time being, but she was obviously weak after her long ordeal and would never be able to make it home on her own.
He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Willow? Willow, it’s me, Angel.”
She looked up at him and Angel’s heart sank. Her eyes were almost blank. There wasn’t even the fear he would have expected to see considering the fact that, soul or no, he wore the face of her captor. She looked up at him curiously, cocked her head to one side, and then. . .then she did something that Angel never expected. She smiled.
“What’s the matter, Willow darlin’? You’re not smiling. Aren’t you glad to see me?”
Angelus smirked at the prisoner cowering beneath his gaze. Her fear was aphrodisiacal and he considered postponing the evening’s ‘entertainment’ so he could spend some time demonstrating just what he enjoyed most about her, just why she was still alive. But he steeled his resolve and reined in his desire. There would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, he had a gift for his lovely concubine waiting downstairs. After the evening’s amusement, she would assuredly be in a generous and receptive mood. He could hardly wait to teach a grateful and compliant Willow even more of what she needed to know to please him completely. She was already so close to being the perfect toy. Tonight would be just what he needed to smooth out all the rough edges and make her into exactly what he wanted.
“Here, put this on.” He handed Willow a thick satin robe, far too large for her and obviously masculine. Obviously his. He wanted their ‘intimacy’ to be unmistakable when they made their entrance.
“Come along.” He held out his hand, beckoning her to take it, and she did. She shook with her nervousness and Angelus felt himself grow hard. Oh well. At least there was an outlet for his frustration waiting downstairs in the dining room.
Arm in arm, they entered the grand and well-appointed room where Spike, Drusilla, and a few ranking minions were waiting. . . along with a very special guest. Angelus crowed inwardly as Willow gasped in surprise and horror when she saw the girl, bound and gagged, standing almost on tiptoe as she hung from chains hooked to the ceiling.
“So nice of you to join us this evening, Cordelia. Let me introduce you to everyone.” Angelus made a sweeping motion with his hand towards all the occupants of the room, then gestured to each in turn. “Spike you may have met before. Drusilla.” He indicated the lovely vampiress in full game face who curtsied prettily from where she stood behind Spike’s chair. “My staff,” he made a desultory gesture towards the minions, who bowed their heads respectfully. “And of course you’ve known my darling Willow for many years now.”
It was time for the fun to begin.
“Willow, my dear,” Angelus said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it in an extravagant manner, “Would you say that you and Cordelia are friends?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cordelia’s desperate expression as she silently pleaded with Willow to say whatever would spare her life. Foolish girl. He’d had Willow for several weeks now. Weeks in which he had taught the girl obedience with ruthless efficiency. His pet knew better than to lie to him. She would hate herself even as she spoke, but she would tell him the truth.
“No.”
Her voice was soft. So soft that no one but Angelus could hear it. Not good enough. He put his hand under her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.
“What was that, sweetheart?”
“No,” she said, louder this time, though her voice shook and tears swam in her eyes. “No, Cordelia isn’t my friend.”
“I thought not.” His smile was insidious and his eyes belied the gentlemanly manner he affected. They sparkled with cruelty and mischief. Now the party would begin in earnest.
“This won’t do. As I’m sure you can see, Cordelia, Willow is very special to me. I cannot allow anyone who has hurt her or made her unhappy to get away with that. Certainly you can understand that, can’t you?”
He circled the terrified cheerleader calmly, almost lazily, his voice even, his manner continuing pleasant and genteel. It was a treat to watch confusion and fright twist and distort Cordelia’s features, obliterating their usual prettiness and making her look like an animal caught in a trap, desperate for escape. He wondered if she would chew her own hand off if need be. . . hmmm.
No, as entertaining as that might be, it was both too uncertain and too slow to play out for Angelus’ taste. He had something more showy and spectacular in mind for the spoiled brat’s role in the evening’s festivities, something with a bit more ‘audience participation’ as well. After all, the scent of Willow’s fear had left him hard and wanting. The least Cordelia Chase could do to repay his hospitality was ease the ache of waiting for his pet’s favours.
Angel’s knees almost buckled at the memory of that night. The night he’d succeeded in breaking Willow, forcing her to watch as he and his childer had raped and tortured the cheerleader while he demanded that Willow tell him of every wrong Cordelia had committed against her, every cruel word, every painful slight, using them as his ‘justification’ for the unspeakable atrocities he visited on the girl. And visiting a burden of guilt on Willow that was beyond her capacity to bear.
He looked down at his demon’s victim once more, steeling himself for the blank stare and vacant smile that adorned her lovely face. The inquisitiveness and energy that had once been so much a part of her that it seemed impossible to eradicate them were gone. The wheels he’d been accustomed to see turning behind her eyes were still. And it was all his fault. He may not have been in control, but Angelus had used his friendship with Willow and the knowledge that he had gained of her to turn this bright, lively, innocent girl into a shell, a shadow, a blasphemous mockery of herself, an even more cruelly twisted version of the person she once was than Drusilla.
Angel knelt beside Willow and took her in his arms, unable to stop the tears from falling as he clung to the unresisting girl. Somehow, he would make this right. What he had done, he must also be capable of undoing. Angel wouldn’t rest until he had repaired the damage he had caused. Willow had to be made whole again. She had to be.
Chapter Two
Dawn was breaking and the mansion was eerily quiet. The angry voices trying to keep low had gone silent and Angel could pick up the sound of three softly snoring humans; they had fallen into a fitful sleep after staying awake all night arguing over what to do about Willow and waiting fearfully to see if Angel’s childer or minions returned. One of his erstwhile houseguests was still awake, though. Buffy.
“What did you do to her?”
She walked up beside him as he stood gazing at Willow, who was sleeping peacefully in the bed she had once shared with Angelus, her sweet face so untroubled in repose.
Angel glanced over at Buffy. “Everything, Buffy. Everything you can imagine.”
Buffy flinched and looked away, both from her slumbering friend and from Angel. He wondered what she was thinking. She didn’t seem angry the way he had expected; she seemed hurt, and that was a puzzle. But it wasn’t one he was going to think about now. He was more worried about Willow. About what would become of her when the others awoke. He knew they were sure she’d be better off with them; knew Jenny had offered to keep her at her house ‘til she was well enough that her parents could be given the news that their missing daughter had miraculously turned up alive and safe; knew Giles and Xander and Buffy were in favour of anything that took Willow out of the hands of the vampire whose demon had killed Cordelia and kept Willow captive.
But they didn’t understand, didn’t realize, were too blinded by their own anger and guilt and hatred to see that Willow needed Angel. Even after witnessing Willow’s panic and terror when they tried to coax her out of the bedroom, even after seeing the way she clung to Angel and shrank from them, they were hellbent on taking her away. It had taken Willow’s screams as she held fast to the bedpost while Giles tried to pry her hands loose to make them even consider the idea of staying at the mansion for the night and trying to sort things out in the morning. He only hoped he could make them see reason.
Willow stirred and made a fretful noise. Buffy had left the room and it was all Angel could do to keep from crawling into bed beside Willow, his need to hold her and comfort her was overwhelming. The knowledge that being caught in bed with her would surely result in his being staked was the one thing strong enough to keep him away. It had only been Jenny Calendar’s certainty that the soul restoration had worked, after all, which had kept him from being dusted already. As much as Willow might need him near her now, he would be no good to her as ash. So he kept his distance, hoping she could at least sense his presence, that she knew he hadn’t abandoned her.
He knew she was aware that he had changed, that he had his soul now. Why that hadn’t shattered the twisted bond Angelus had created with her he wasn’t sure, but it hadn’t. On either side. As much as he tried to deny it, he felt for her, felt things that he tried to ascribe to the lingering influence of his demon, but he felt them all the same. Still, as much as he knew he should leave the room and shun temptation, he stayed. Keeping watch over Willow. And remembering.
“They won’t be coming for you, my sweet.”
Angelus whispered into Willow’s ear as he stroked the soft flesh of her cheek, an obscene pretense of tenderness that did more to break his little toy than all the tools in his torture chamber, and didn’t he know it. He ran his eyes lasciviously down her nude body, supine beside him
“You’re mine, sweet Willow. And your friends all know that. They know where you spend your days and what you do for me. Why do you think they haven’t come here and tried to rescue you? They know what you are, who you belong to, and they hate you for it.” Angelus went on, his voice as soothing as a lover’s, belying the cruelty of his words.
“Do you think Xander could ever forgive you for being a vampire’s whore? For opening your mouth and your legs for me? For screaming so beautifully when I make you come? Do you think Giles could ever look at you without wondering about all the things I’ve taught you? Without that dark side of him wanting to see for himself just what I find so attractive about you? Do you think Buffy could ever forgive you for being chosen over her? That she could ever stop hating you for pleasing me more than she ever pleased Angel? Don’t delude yourself, little one. They’ve abandoned you. I’m all you have now. You belong to me. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll be happy.”
Angelus moved over Willow’s body again. Even though he’d had her just a short while ago, he was definitely ‘up’ for another go ‘round. He ran a fang lightly across her breast, enjoying the moan he elicited and the moisture he could smell pooling between Willow’s thighs. Her body was so conditioned to his desires now, so responsive to the pain he enjoyed inflicting. It was glorious to have a bed partner who enjoyed what he enjoyed, who was so well trained to cater to his needs. Sure, it hadn’t always been easy, but the time and effort had been well spent. Willow was ready whenever he desired her and her body responded how he wanted it to respond to whatever he wanted to do to her.
Of course, she had a bit of a ways to go before she was everything she could be. There was still the matter of her mental and emotional resistance to her fate, to the fact that she was his and her reason for existence was to serve him in whatever way he wished, but he’d conquer that. He’d known she was the most intellectual toy he’d ever chosen and that her mind would be a challenge to his skill and determination. But after all, he thought as he slid into her tight, wet cunt and relished the feeling of her heat surrounding his cock, he did so dearly love a challenge.
Angel shook off the memory, not wanting to dwell on the pleasure he’d experienced with Willow, and his thoughts went, instead, to the four people in his living room. They’d burst into his mansion last night acting like brave warriors ready to do battle. Where the hell had that fire been before? Weeks ago, when it might have done some good. When they might have rescued Willow before she was completely broken.
Buffy had been leading the charge, playing the role of avenger, but why hadn’t she led the charge while Angel was still a soulless demon? He started to wonder about his “great love.” She was The Slayer. Her mission was supposed to come before her personal safety. Sure, she had managed to survive this long as a Slayer on an active hellmouth, but what did that mean? How could that be an accomplishment if it came at the cost of the lives she was supposed to save, the people she was supposed to protect? He wondered if the brave, selfless girl he had fallen in love with had even existed. Wouldn’t that girl have done anything to rescue a friend who had risked her life alongside her so many times?
No matter where his thoughts led him, the result was anguish.
She stayed perfectly still as he sketched. Angelus enjoyed his ability to make this girl, who had always been so fidgety and energetic, stay motionless, though he enjoyed even more the ways he could make her move. It was all about power and control and damn if it didn’t feel *good*.
His practiced hand drew the lines and contours before him, changing the pose and scenery, of course. He remembered the way she’d looked hanging from chains in her schoolgirl clothes and transformed it into the image of her nude body in the same position. Then he added the marks of the lash and the branding iron he’d never actually used on her. Oh sure, he’d *wanted* to, damn badly in fact. It had taken a restraint he almost could not believe he was capable of to keep from marking that beautiful skin, to keep from making Willow scream her agony to the empty heavens. As badly as he longed to torture his captive, however, he’d realized that fear was so much worse than almost any torture. And it was the fear of what he *might* do that would make her obedient. The first step in turning Willow Rosenberg into the ideal human pet.
He’d left her hanging in the very chains he was portraying her in for a whole night and day after taking her prisoner, letting her fear build into something grotesque and terrifying as she listened to him torturing and killing the surrogate he’d had the minions bring home for him to play with instead in an adjoining room. Then he simply let Willow down, the warning implicit as he escorted her to his chambers. She had not made him regret his self-discipline. So acquiescent. So deferential. Her tear-filled eyes cast down as she obeyed his every politely-worded command.
“Willow, please undress.”
“Willow, please turn around slowly and let me look at you.”
“Willow, please come here to me and kneel.”
Just the memories of that first time nearly distracted him from his task. For a shy little virgin who had never even been kissed, she’d proved herself a natural on her knees. All that babbling must have been very good exercise; it certainly seemed to have readied her mouth for a far more pleasant use than conversation.
There. The sketch was complete. Now he could indulge in a brief taste of his pet’s special talents before heading out to bestow his latest work on those who certainly must be wondering what had been going on in Willow’s life since she’d been taken from their midst. Of course, it wasn’t exactly an accurate rendition of what he’d done to their friend, but he was an artist and had to be allowed creative license, didn’t he?
“Willow, my dear, come and thank me for allowing you the honour of being my model.”
There was still some stubbornness about his pet, some refusal to accept her place, as evidenced by the shine of tears swimming in her eyes and the angry blush that pinked her skin, but he pushed his annoyance aside. She looked so lovely as her mouth moved up and down on his cock; it was just too difficult to stay upset with her. At least right now.
Noise from downstairs roused Angel from his thoughts. Voices were starting to rise and Angel could tell that all of his “guests” were awake once more. He just hoped they didn’t come up here and disturb Willow; she’d been through so much. She needed some peace.
She was still sleeping; Angel was glad of that. Slumber undisturbed by Angelus’ incessant sexual demands was something she hadn’t had since before she’d been taken captive. He hoped her dreams didn’t take her back to her place beside his demon, but he knew that was likely a vain, foolish fancy. He doubted her subconscious was any less bound up in his alter ego than her waking mind was. If there was one thing Angelus was, it was entirely thorough. When he did something, he went all the way. Breaking Willow was not a task he’d heedlessly or carelessly leave unfinished. No, Angel was heartbreakingly certain that as she slept, Willow was as lost in her memories of Angelus as Angel had been only a few moments ago. Still, any sleep, even a sleep filled with dreams of his demon, was better for her than another confrontation with her self-styled rescuers.
The conversation the others were having was growing heated. The pieces of it that Angel picked up alarmed him. It was time to go down there and make them all see reason, to make them see past their hatred of him and do what was best for Willow. To make them realize that the only one capable of healing the damage to their friend was the souled version of the one who had caused it. Willow needed to stay with Angel if there was any hope for her to ever be Willow again.
He turned and left the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. As he walked down the stairs, he could hear Xander.
“Why are we even talking about this? I say we stake Deadboy like we should have done a long time ago. Have you forgotten what that bastard did to Cordelia? Willow will be better off when he’s dust. We all will.”
“You’re so caught up in your need for revenge that Willow doesn’t matter to you at all, does she, Xander?” Angel spoke from the shadows, surprising everyone. “I know that you hate me. You have every right to hate me. But staking me won’t help Willow. You saw her last night. Like it or not, she needs me. Without me, she’s never going to be the same.”
He looked into the faces before him and saw stone. They didn’t understand. They thought he was just trying to save his own skin. Trust them to think that he was just like them.
He pushed down the bitterness in his thoughts lest it bleed into his words. The last thing he needed was to antagonize the ones who fancied themselves Willow’s best friends. Though he’d fight them tooth and nail if need be to keep Willow with him so he could take care of her, he’d prefer to have them see sense.
“Angelus made himself the center of Willow’s world, broke her down and made her completely dependant on him. That isn’t going to change overnight. She knows my soul has been restored, but I’m also the closest thing there is to Angelus and right now she needs that to feel safe. She needs to be weaned off her dependance and to be helped to regain her sense of self and who she is gradually, and by someone she trusts. Right now, that’s me.”
He almost pleaded with them with his eyes, begging them to see the sincerity in his words. Buffy had her hand on Xander’s shoulder, trying to calm him, but she wouldn’t meet Angel’s gaze. Jenny had her arms around Rupert, her face buried in his chest; he could smell her tears and knew she was crying. Perhaps that meant that he’d gotten through to her. He could only hope.
The Watcher spoke, shattering the uncomfortable silence that followed Angel’s speech. “Why should we trust you, vampire?”
Angel struggled to find the right words. “I know you only see me as a killer right now, Rupert, but I have my soul again. You gave it back to me yourselves. I am sorrier than you will ever know for what Angelus did. I wish I could undo all of it, but I can’t bring Cordelia back. I can do everything in my power to help Willow, to bring her back from the emotional hell that Angelus left her in. I’m the only one who has any chance of making her whole again and there isn’t anything I won’t do to make that happen.”
He looked around. They were listening. Good. He tried another, more practical tack.
“I’m also the only one of you who can be with her all day and all night. None of the rest of you can. Buffy and Xander have school, and you, Rupert, have to work. So does Jenny. You live with your families or surrounded by neighbors, all of whom would certainly notice that Willow was staying with you. What would happen if word got back to Willow’s parents? If they found her like this, they’d stick her in a mental hospital. Where she’d be labeled delusional and sedated into catatonia if she tried to tell the truth about what happened to her. Is that what you want for her? After everything she’s been through, does she deserve to spend the rest of her life in a hell even worse than where she already is?”
He’d gotten through to them. At least to Giles and Jenny. Xander still gave off nothing but anger and hate. Buffy looked . . . Angel didn’t want to put any stock in his assessment of what he saw in Buffy’s eyes. No matter what he’d come to realize about her in the past few hours, he wasn’t ready to believe she was quite that selfish.
“Your childer, your minions.”
“They’re gone, Rupert. They won’t be a problem.” Angel’s voice held a certainty that brooked no disagreement and Giles seemed to accept his assertion, at least for now.
“We will be here all the time, make no mistake. And if anything further happens to that poor girl, I will make you beg for death before I ram a stake through your miserable, undead heart.”
Angel didn’t attempt to argue or defend himself. “Agreed.”
“Come along, Buffy, Xander. I’ll make your excuses to the school and your parents. I think we all need to go home for a short while. Get some sleep. We’ll be no good to Willow like this.”
Both Buffy and Xander looked ready to protest, but a look from Giles silenced them both.
“I am no more happy with this arrangement than you are, but I am satisfied that Willow will be safe for the time being. We’ll come back tonight. Perhaps she’ll be in the frame of mind to see us then.”
Maybe their fatigue was too overwhelming for them to put up much of a fight. At any rate, Buffy and Xander held their peace, contenting themselves with glaring at Angel while they gathered their things.
Giles took Jenny’s hand and squeezed it, obviously drawing strength from his lover. He shepherded the two teens outside before following them with Jenny. He looked back once, his icy stare promising everything his words had and more, before he made his way wearily homeward.
When the sound of their footsteps had faded away, Angel went back upstairs. Willow was his charge now, and she needed him.
Chapter Three
Buffy was here. Again.
She wanted to help her friend, he got that. But how could she not see what her visits did to Willow? That her friend shrank from her touch and clung to Angel when she was in the room. Whether it was because Willow subconsciously feared what Buffy would think of her for the part Angelus had forced her to play in Cordelia's brutal death or because she harbored repressed anger towards Buffy for leaving her in Angelus' clutches for so long, Angel couldn't say. But it was obvious to anyone with eyes that she didn't want to be anywhere near her friend. Obvious, that was, to anyone but Buffy.
“All I’m saying, Angel, is that I think Willow would be better off staying with Miss Calendar. It’s been a week already and I don’t think she’s going to get back to her old self again staying with you.”
“Are you listening to yourself, Buffy?” Angel asked as he struggled to maintain his composure. “Willow’s endured a kind of torment you cannot begin to imagine. You can’t expect her to bounce back in a few days. And besides, she is doing better. She spoke yesterday. She just needs time.”
Buffy looked skeptical and challenged him again. “Angel, I know she’s been through a lot, but...”
Angel cut Buffy off.
“Been through a lot? You don’t know the half of it. She was subjected to the kind of mind games that drove Drusilla completely insane. She was forced to watch while Cordelia was raped and tortured by Angelus, Spike, and god knows how many minions. She experienced pain and humiliation and anguish on every possible level. A lot? Yeah, Buffy, I guess you could say that Willow has been through a lot.”
‘And she might not have gone through the worst of it if you could have been bothered to try to rescue her.’ The venomous thought took Angel only slightly by surprise; he’d been rethinking his image of Buffy since the night he’d regained his soul. What really surprised him was the lack of guilt he felt for thinking it and the fact that he felt none of the rush of emotion he used to feel in Buffy’s presence. The love, the passion, the desire, they weren’t there. But he supposed that days and nights spent trying to heal the very friend his ‘great love’ paid too-late lip service to caring about because she hadn’t done her job might well have killed even the strongest passion ever felt. If Buffy had been more Slayer and less self-important teenager, maybe Willow would be at home working on her computer right now.
Angelus drew a finger through the dust that had collected on Willow’s bookshelves and gave a disapproving glare towards the door of her room. Really. It looked as though her parents hadn’t entered their daughter’s room since she disappeared.
The bed was neatly made. No mother had sat upon it, clutching her daughter’s pillow and sobbing. The undisturbed dust around the framed pictures showed that no father had come in and picked them up, thinking about the little girl he missed. No, he’d wager that the door to this room had not been opened since Willow had left her house to go back to the high school the night he’d taken her.
Where were they now, those parents of hers? Worthless wretches. How in the hell was he supposed to finish teaching Willow her place without being able to present their broken, lifeless bodies to her as a gift? Oh well, he supposed that *was* a bit of a cliche. After all, he’d done that with Drusilla and where had it gotten him? Stuck with a self-absorbed loony whose chief value lay in visions she never seemed able to communicate coherently half the time. Perhaps it was just as well that the two thoughtless fools who’d borne his pet were away from home tonight.
He looked around Willow’s girlish room for a moment, losing himself in some of Soulboy’s memories. The night she’d first invited him in. Ah, the rush of guilty lust that eunuch of a soul had felt when he’d seen her quickly hide that virginal white bra. But had he even made the smallest advances on the girl? No. He’d moaned about the Slayer. Now that’s the way to seduce a fair maiden, Angel m’boy. Ask for her help with her best friend. No wonder Angel hadn’t gotten any in so long that even his hand had forgotten what to do.
Then there were all the nights that pussy had stood on the balcony as Willow slept. ‘Making sure she was safe.’ Yeah. You tell yourself that, oh souled one. But why, pray tell, did making sure she was safe require watching her sleep for half an hour or more? When she was safely in her house, well away from any of Sunnydale’s vampires . . . except for him, of course. Not that Angel had ever had the balls to go in and ravish the girl, or even admit that he *wanted* to . . . pathetic
Oh well. Time to head back and spend a bit of quality time with his pet. At least he had some small proof of Willow’s parents’ utter lack of devotion to take home with him. You’d think they could at least have bothered to feed her fish. He took a decorative box off her dresser, dumping out the junk jewelry and pointless mementos it contained. It made a nice coffin, he thought as he scooped up the fish that floated lifelessly at the top of their tank and placed them neatly inside the cheap little trinket box . He couldn’t wait to see the look on Willow’s face when she saw her gift. It wasn’t the corpse of someone she cared about, but for tonight, it would have to do.
Angel shook himself free of the memory. He softened when he saw the look of horror and sympathy on Buffy’s face. Maybe he was being too harsh in his assessment of her. Maybe she didn’t deserve all the blame he had placed on her. After all, he supposed, they might all have decided that restoring his soul was the best way to get Willow back and it had just taken more time than they had hoped.
“Did he...was Willow...with Spike and...?”
“No, Buffy. Angelus kept her for his own use. Not that it made her life any less degrading. Believe me, he did more than enough damage to her all by himself.”
He thought he saw something akin to jealousy for a split second in Buffy’s eyes, but it was gone quickly and he decided it hadn’t been there at all. For all her self-centeredness, he couldn’t conceive of her being so heartless. Her friend had been held captive and forced into a degrading and horrible sexual slavery, not wooed and seduced in some sort of decadent fantasy world. She couldn’t possibly resent and envy Willow’s fate. Buffy had to know that what Willow had experienced had been nothing like the lovemaking she had shared with him. ‘No, nothing like it all,’ a voice inside him whispered. He shivered at the feelings his demon revived within him
In the meantime, Buffy had obviously found more ammunition for her argument in his words.
“Don’t you see, Angel? That’s why she needs to be with Miss Calendar. She’s not going to get better here. As long as she stays with you, she’ll just be reminded of all the terrible things he put her through.”
Angel ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. There was no reasoning with her. She was bound and determined to take Willow away from him. Never mind what was best for Willow. Never mind that the reasons he’d given for why Willow should stay with him were still good ones.
“Buffy, I’m not going to argue about this with you. Willow is staying here, where she’s safe and I can take care of her. Jenny has agreed to it, Giles has agreed to it, and that’s the way it’s going
to stay.”
“But, Angel, “ she whined, “they don’t know what you just told me. I’m sure they’d agree with me if they knew.”
Angel was tired of this. He wished she’d just leave. It was almost impossible for him to believe that there had once been a time when Buffy’s mere presence made him happy. Those days were barely a memory now. He may have been given back his soul, but some things appeared to be gone forever; he ached with that knowledge.
A scream sounded from upstairs, stopping the argument from going any further. Both Angel and Buffy headed for the stairs and ran to the room where Willow had been napping. Angel reached it first and immediately sat beside her, taking the terrified, sobbing girl in his arms. She’d obviously had a nightmare; she was covered in sweat and her face was as pale as death. He held her close, ignoring Buffy’s glare as he soothed Willow.
“Hush, sweetling. I’m right here. It was just a dream. I’m here now. Nothing can hurt you.” He rocked gently back and forth as he cuddled her and continued to murmur to her in a low, soothing voice. “I’m here, sweetheart. No one will ever hurt you again. I promise.”
If looks could stake, the cold gleam in Buffy’s eyes would have dusted him on the spot, but Angel didn’t let go of Willow. He ignored the girl standing in the doorway as he continued to comfort his charge while she cried. Her nightmare must have been truly frightening to have left her in such a state.
The sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears. Just what he needed right now, another of Willow’s “friends” to deal with. That had better not be Xander.
It wasn’t.
“What’s going on?”
Jenny Calendar. Thank heavens. She was the most rational of the lot. If he had to deal with two of them right now, at least one was Jenny.
“Willow had a bad dream, that’s all.” Buffy rushed to answer, and Angel wanted to slap her for brushing Willow’s obvious pain aside in such a cavalier fashion.
Thankfully, Jenny seemed untouched by the girl’s callous attitude.
“Oh my God. Is she alright?” She looked at Angel as if asking for permission to join him in comforting Willow. His eyes didn’t give it and, to his utter amazement, she kept her distance, though she eyed him with suspicion as he continued to cradle Willow in his arms.
“Is there anything we can do, Angel?”
“Can you leave us alone for a minute? I’ll be down to talk with you. I just want to make sure Willow’s okay and then I’ll meet you in the living room.”
Jenny looked reluctant - Angel expected that - and for a moment, he wasn’t sure she’d comply with his request. But she did, taking Buffy by the arm and quickly dragging the protesting Slayer along with her. He knew there would be trouble waiting for him downstairs, but at least he’d have a few moments of peace in which to help Willow regain some sense of calm.
He hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head.
“I have to go and talk to Buffy and Miss Calendar.” He noted the worried look in her eyes and hastened to reassure her. “I’ll be back in just a little while. In the meantime, why don’t you read?” He reached over to the night table, picked up the volume of Jane Eyre that he had read to Willow from the previous night, and handed it to her. Then he kissed her cheek, rose, and left the room.
The conversation had already started by the time he got downstairs and it seemed to be quite heated. He stood just outside the room and listened for a moment, wanting to get the lay of the land before he subjected himself to another one of Buffy’s tirades.
“. . . feel that way, Buffy. And I’m not any happier about it than you are. I’d like nothing more than to take Willow away from here so she would never have to see Angel again. But in case you haven’t noticed, Willow seems to feel differently. None of us can even get near her. We don’t really have a choice. For right now, she has to stay with Angel.”
“But why can’t we just have Angel sedate her and then take her with us? I’m sure that once she’s out of here where all those . . . things happened to her, she’ll be better in no time.”
“Things.” That’s what Buffy thought had happened to Willow. Just some “things.” Did she think this was no worse for the girl than finding out that Xander was dating Cordelia? Just some teenage angst that ice cream and chocolate and a pedicure would fix? He looked at Buffy and tried with all his might to see the girl he had loved so much it had cost him his soul, but she wasn’t there. All he saw was a spoiled teenage brat who was jealous that her boyfriend was paying attention to another girl. It made him feel worse than ever. He’d lost his soul over a fantasy, but the consequences had been so terribly real.
“We’ve been over this before, Buffy,” Angel said as he entered the room. “Willow was absolutely dependent on Angelus when you gave me back my soul. That didn’t magically change just because I did. I thought we had already gone over this and that you understood.”
He wasn’t going to let Buffy take Willow away from him. Now, more than ever, he needed to be the one who made things right. To be the first one who saw the light return to Willow’s eyes. To be there when she became Willow again. That was the only thing that could keep him from greeting the sunrise. Because it was the only thing that could heal the pain he felt for what the loss of his soul had cost the girl who’d been the first friend he’d had in longer than he could remember.
“But Angel, it wasn’t you. You never would have done that to Willow. Not with your soul. I know you feel guilty and that you want to be the one who makes things right. But you have to see that Willow belongs with her friends. With the people who love her and care about her. You barely even knew her before . . . all this happened. How can you possibly make her better?”
“We don’t have a choice right now, Buffy. Since Angelus broke her down and made her depend upon him totally, Willow will cling to anything that reminds her of him. That would be Angel. Since he claims to be willing to try to fix the damage he did, we have to take him at his word for the time being or we risk hurting Willow even more. But as soon as she doesn’t fear us anymore, you can rest assured that she’ll be coming home with me.”
Angel didn’t argue with Jenny. It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement - she seemed to have conveniently forgotten the excellent reasons he’d advanced that first night for why Willow should stay with him ‘til she was well enough to go home - and her words promised him a new battle in the near future, but for the time being they gave him the promise of Willow, here, with him, and safe.
“We need to go now, Buffy. You have to patrol and Angel has to go back upstairs and take care of Willow. Giles and I will come back here later tonight before we go home.” She looked at Angel when she said those words and Angel knew she would be back with the Watcher in tow and that he’d have to argue his case all over again. “You can see Willow tomorrow.”
Buffy obviously wanted to remain behind and talk to him alone once more, but Jenny took her arm and steered her out the door as Buffy made subdued sounds of protest, seemingly torn between wanting to argue and not wanting to exacerbate what he sensed was some tension between herself and her Watcher’s girlfriend.
He wondered about that as he listened to their footsteps fade and then the sound of a car pulling away. He knew Buffy wasn’t fond of sharing people, she’d always discouraged him from getting to know her friends, but there seemed to be more to the animosity she obviously felt towards Jenny. He’d sensed the same attitude from Xander and he wondered what had happened to make both teens dislike the woman so much. Still, no matter how curious he might be, it wasn’t Buffy’s feelings for Jenny that were the problem he was facing right now, it was her feelings for him.
The look he’d seen in Buffy’s eyes earlier told him that, while he’d seen his love for her vanish since he’d gotten back his soul, the same wasn’t true for her. Despite the fact that Angelus’ crimes, the curse, and what Willow was still going through should have killed Buffy’s romantic feelings for him, she still saw him as hers. Still saw them as Romeo and Juliet with a happy ending. Still saw a future for them. He wouldn’t be surprised if her fantasies included children playing in the front yard of a house with a white picket fence. Buffy had the uncanny ability to ignore reality when it suited her, and it suited her often. He wondered why he had seen none of this before.
Maybe he, too, had wanted to escape reality, had wanted to believe that a normal life was possible for him. Maybe he had just wanted not to be a demon so badly that it blinded him. Maybe he had wanted the absolution that the love of a Slayer offered so much that he was willing to do whatever it took in order to have it. Whatever his reasons were, they weren’t good enough. The loss of his soul and the first sight of Willow’s vacant eyes had told him that. Why couldn’t Buffy see as clearly?
Angel was tired now. Tired of worrying about Buffy, and the others, and about the battles that were sure to come later. Willow needed him, so he would go to her. He tried not to think about the small voice inside that whispered of what Willow could do to ease his tension, to make the cares of the day a distant memory. The voice that asked if he was so sure he wanted to fix the girl at all, if maybe there were other, darker reasons behind his zeal to keep Willow to himself. Angel knew it was just his demon taking out it’s anger at being caged again in the only way it could. Angel knew who he was and why he was doing what he was doing. And if on some level he realized that his self-righteous beliefs about the purity of his soul mirrored Buffy’s blind refusal to see the demon as part and parcel of who he was? That, too, was a voice he ignored as he mounted the stairs and made his way back to the bedroom.
Chapter Four
It was morning again.
Angel kept human hours now. Normalizing Willow’s schedule may have been Jenny and Giles’ idea, but since it benefitted Angel, he was hardly one to complain. It gave him most of Willow’s waking hours all to himself, after all, and meant that she was often asleep by the time the two who’d styled themselves her surrogate parents came by for their nightly chance to invade his home and cast doubts on his care of her. He was glad she didn’t have to endure most of those visits. They always left her agitated, and Angel hated to see her so upset. It was bad enough she had to endure Xander coming by every weekday after school and the whole group descending on her en masse every weekend.
He was happy to see that at least Buffy seemed less inclined lately to inflict her company on the poor girl. Sure, Buffy’s waning interest in playing the supportive friend was more selfish than selfless, but at least it meant she left Willow alone. Didn’t it occur to the rest of them that it might be best for Willow if she had some space to recover before being smothered by their attention? No. Of course it didn’t. They just kept pressing, thinking that they could somehow force Willow to feel the same way about them as before.
A part of Angel that sounded disturbingly like his demon wondered if their hurry to get her back in their clutches was because they were getting sick of doing all the research that Willow had normally taken off their hands. He felt guilty for thinking such things, but it was getting harder and harder to remain convinced that they cared about her as much as he did, not when they seemed determined to take Willow away from him no matter what harm it might do to her, no matter how obvious it was that she didn’t even want to be in the same room with them.
He could feel the beginnings of wakefulness in Willow as she snuggled in close to him, the way she did every morning. She was adorable, like a little girl trying to hold on to a happy dream. Perhaps she was. She never had nightmares when Angel slept next to her, and it made him happy to think that he could give her peace just by being near her. So different than the way things had been without his soul.
Angelus had enjoyed tonight’s dinner. A petite blonde who’d looked rather like Buffy, right down to the sluttish apparel. Of course, she lacked the fight or the flavour of the real thing, but then, not every meal could be *haute cuisine*. And at least dessert was four stars.
Willow was riding him, tiny lines around her eyes and a nearly imperceptible tic in her jaw the only clues that she hated what she was doing, hated pleasing him, hated that it always pleased *her*. It was a bit annoying that she wasn’t fully broken yet, but on the other hand, no hunter mounted the head of a rabbit on his wall. One only boasted of the most hard-won prizes.
She moved up and down on his cock, his hands on her hips as he met each thrust, urging her to pick up the pace. Soon their bodies were slamming together, and she was unable to hold back the cries of pain and pleasure as he took control, moving her as if she were a rag doll astride him. He felt her muscles clenching around his cock as she came, his own orgasm following within a few seconds as he pulled her down to him and bit into the soft, white flesh of her neck.
Now that had been fun, he thought as he moved Willow onto her knees and positioned himself behind her, but he was far from ready to call it a night. After all, even if dinner had been fast food, dessert was meant to be savoured.
Angel moaned softly; his eyes were still closed in reverie as he felt himself being stroked through the silk of his pajama bottoms. It was Willow, he suddenly realized. She was awake now and had obviously noticed his arousal. His eyes shot open. She’d responded the way she was trained to respond to his desire and Angel felt sick.
He sat up quickly and pushed her hand away from his erection, his heart sinking as he saw the look of hurt and confusion on her face. He cupped her face in his hand and caressed her cheek.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. You don’t have to do that anymore. Those things he made you do for him? You don’t have to do them for me. That’s not why you’re here. That’s not why I’m taking care of you.”
She seemed to understand. At least she looked less crestfallen than she had a moment ago. So Angel kissed the top of her head, just as he did every morning, and rose to go make breakfast.
“What would you like this morning, Willow?” Angel asked, as he always did.
As usual, Willow said nothing. She’d started responding occasionally to yes or no questions, but she never volunteered a word and she never said anything that might be construed as a request or a preference of any kind. Still, Angel always asked. Someday she would answer. That would be a wonderful day.
He went down to the kitchen and opened the freezer. Being grateful to Xander Harris was galling, but he had to admit that the boy’s knowledge of modern convenience foods had been a boon. It was pleasant to be able to have a hot meal for Willow ready in less time than it took to choose which one to prepare. He figured they had to taste pretty good, or people wouldn’t eat them, and it was wonderful not to have to leave Willow’s side for very long in order to fix her something to eat.
This morning, however, being quick about things wasn’t as appealing as usual. He needed some time to get his libido under control before heading back upstairs, so he put the frozen pancakes back on the shelf, closed the freezer, and opened the refrigerator instead. Eggs and cheese and butter. Good. He could make an omelet for her.
As he found a pan and turned on the stove burner, he kept his thoughts off of Angelus and his relationship with Willow. But that didn’t mean he could stop thinking about the girl who was waiting for her breakfast upstairs.
It was getting more and more difficult to sleep beside her. Sure, thanks to their keeping this human schedule, he was no longer worried that one of the others would catch him in bed next to her. But that was part of the problem. Without any fear of discovery, he was enjoying the intimacy of their situation too much. Luxuriating in the nearness of the soft, warm body in his bed, he often felt like they were the only two people in the world. Some mornings, waking up with his arms around Willow, he could have sworn he felt every bit as happy as he had after making love to Buffy. It terrified him. And for more reasons than one.
He had strong feelings for Willow, there wasn’t any argument he could think of to convince himself otherwise, and it was all wrong. He had no right to romantic intentions towards the girl he’d pledged to care for after nearly destroying her. He, or at least his demon, had raped and broken her. What right could he possibly have to love her and expect her to love him back?
Then there was the matter of his soul. There was still that horrible “happiness clause” to consider. Jenny had informed him that she and the others had performed the original curse in order to restore his soul, so that barrier to real bliss was still very much in effect. He should have expected that. No mercy to be had from the daughter of the people who had cursed him in the first place. But like it or not, the clause was there, and he would not, could not, allow the curse to be broken again. He couldn’t bear the thought of Angelus getting his hands on Willow once more, and he prayed to a God he hoped would at least hear his pleas on behalf of another that he would protect her, make sure that she hadn’t been rescued from that monster in vain.
He brought his attention back to his task and realized the omelet was done. Thank heavens he’d remembered enough about how to cook that he’d been able to prepare breakfast and brood at the same time. He got a plate down from the cupboard and put the omelet on it, hoping it looked appetizing, and then put it on the tray he would carry to Willow. Then he poured a glass of milk for her and, adding it to the tray, he made his way back upstairs.
Willow looked relieved when he entered the room with her breakfast and Angel chided himself. He should have known it would worry her that he was gone longer than normal. But his self-flagellation soon gave way to delight when he saw the expression on Willow’s face. She looked positively joyful and she was obviously taking in the sight of her breakfast with a great deal of happy anticipation.
“You made me an omelet,” she said softly, but with a kind of childlike awe. “Thank you.”
Angel’s heart soared and he sat next to her, pulling her into a hug and kissing the top of her head reverently.
“I hope you enjoy it, sweetheart. I haven’t made one in a very long time.”
As soon as he let her go, she began to eat, almost wolfing down the food and smiling the whole time. Irrationally, Angel was filled with a hatred for Xander. This moment could have been his ages ago if that idiotic boy hadn’t convinced him that those frozen meals were just as good as homemade. He should have known better. Well from now on, he would cook for Willow. He made a mental note to have some recipe books delivered along with a new grocery order as soon as possible.
Willow had finished her breakfast in a trice and was positively beaming at him. Angel’s heart swelled and broke all at once. He was glad he had made her so happy. At the same time, he felt terrible that her life had come to a point where she was so heartrendingly grateful for a small thing like an omelet. Still, her smile was a beautiful thing, like what he imagined sunshine to be, and he couldn’t help but bask in its radiance.
He put the tray down on the floor and lay back on the bed next to Willow. He would take the dishes down later. For now, he wanted to stay here with the woman he had only just admitted to himself that he loved, enjoying the best moments she’d undoubtedly had since he’d lost his soul. And it wasn’t surprising, considering his natural inclination to rest at this time of day, that he soon fell sound asleep with Willow’s head pillowed against his chest.
Angelus snarled as he stormed up the stairs to his room. Tonight had not gone well. Just when he’d decided to step things up against The Slayer, the bitch had to go and find a spell to revoke his invitation to her home. Damn her. Her mother’s blood would have been delicious, he was sure, and draining the clueless woman would have been the perfect way to let Buffy know that Sunnydale was *his*. Wouldn’t you know someone had monkey-wrenched things for him, just as he was about to step up the game and make it interesting at last? It was probably Giles’ handiwork. The stuffy old codger couldn’t let *anyone* have any fun.
He was in a lousy mood when he entered his bedroom, but at least the cure for what ailed him lay sleeping on the bed just a few scant feet away. Those experts who said that having a pet was a great way to relieve stress knew what they were talking about, that was for sure. Because playing with *his* pet always seemed to make him feel calmer and less irritable. Well, he needed some of that stress relief right now.
“Willow,” he singsonged. “Wakey-wakey. Daddy’s home.”
She stirred and sat up, the sheet that covered her falling to her waist, exposing her breasts to his hungry gaze.
“Did you miss me?”
She didn’t answer. Not that he expected her to - after all, she wasn’t completely broken in yet - but her eyes and demeanor proffered no contradiction. The girl had learned that much, at least, and learned it well. Good girl.
“Undress me.”
He didn’t have to ask twice. She got up from the bed quickly and came to him, her nudity still an intoxicating sight despite his familiarity with it. He felt himself harden; obedience was such a turn-on. The way her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, the feel of her soft hands on his chest. He groaned as her hands moved to unfasten his trousers, watched her sink slowly to her knees as she pushed his pants down . . . Yes, indeed, he thought, as Willow’s mouth engulfed his cock, there was nothing like a well-trained pet to take the edge off a bad night.
He awoke, or he thought he did, but he was still dreaming. He had to be, for he could still feel Willow’s mouth on his cock, could feel the brush of her hair against his thighs, could feel the softness of her hand as she caressed his sac. But it felt different somehow, less like a memory of her time with Angelus and more like it was happening to him.
It only took him a moment longer to realize that it felt different because he wasn’t dreaming. Dear God. Willow’s mouth really was on his cock, and it was so much more glorious than any dream. His memories couldn’t hold a candle to her actual skills, her perfection, the ecstasy she could give. For a moment, his brain shouted at him to stop this, screamed that his soul was in grave peril, but then he was lost. Lost in that warm, wet mouth. Lost in the incredible, wonderful, damning sensations she created. And he gave himself over to her. His hands tangled in her hair, urging her on, his hips bucking up to meet each downward stroke of her mouth. He had never known this much pure sexual bliss.
He wanted it to last forever, but the pleasure was far too great for him to hold back his release for very long. Willow swallowed greedily, milking him of every drop he could possibly give. She looked at him with the most innocent expression as he collapsed, gloriously sated, and closed his eyes. This was the most content and happy he had ever felt and he reveled in the sensations still thrumming through his body.
And then it hit him. Perfect happiness. His soul. He was about to lose his soul.
He pulled Willow up and looked at her, his eyes wild with fear.
“What did you do?” he cried, shaking her.
He hated himself the moment the words left his mouth. How could he blame her? She was only doing what his demon had forced her to learn to do, what had been drilled into her with ruthless efficiency. She had “thanked” him in the way she had been taught. And he had let her. He should have known this would happen after what had gone on earlier, but he’d taken it for granted that she’d believed him when he’d told her that he didn’t expect, didn’t want her to serve him that way. Obviously she hadn’t. Because she had sensed the truth, that deep down, he had wanted this, and she had acted accordingly.
He’d as good as raped her, he realized that now. This hadn’t been an act of mutual pleasure between two consenting partners. This had been him taking gratification from a girl who’d been damaged and broken and trained to perform. There was no excuse for what he had done. He could have, should have stopped her. But he hadn’t. He had used her the same way Angelus had, and now his selfishness had condemned Willow to a life as Angelus’ pet for as long as that demon desired, and condemned the others to a certain and gruesome death.
Angel held Willow close. She was crying, thinking he was angry with her.
“Shhh, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.” He whispered the words over and over as his own tears fell. Soon, his soul would be gone forever. All he could do was wait for the pain to come. The pain that was Willow’s certain doom.
He waited.
And he waited.
The pain never came.
And his soul never left him.
Jenny Calendar had lied to him. The curse she had performed had no clause. Angel need never fear happiness again. The problem was, he didn’t deserve it. Not now.
How ironic was it that he had lost his soul during an act of mutual affection and love and kept it while using the girl his demon had nearly destroyed?
He wondered what should he do about Willow now. Should he send her away? Give her over to Jenny Calendar? Even though she had lied to him, and despite his own misgivings about the way she and the others behaved towards his charge, he knew that she cared about Willow. Would Willow be safer with Jenny?
Angel stayed lost in thought for several minutes and, as he calmed down after the tumult of the last few minutes, he began to consider things more dispassionately. He concluded that, in spite of recent events, keeping Willow with him was really the best course of action. What happened had been wrong, certainly. But in his own defense, he had been asleep and could hardly be expected to be rational, waking up to what Willow was doing to him. He would just explain things more clearly, be more firm and emphatic when reiterating that she was not his sexual plaything any longer. That would solve the problem of a repeat performance, he was certain.
After all, Willow had made stunning progress today. Speaking up and expressing a preference for something for the first time, he knew, since before his soul had been restored. All that could be undone if he sent her to live with Jenny, who she didn’t trust the way she trusted him. No, there was much more to be lost than gained by changing Willow’s circumstances right now. All he needed to do was set the ground rules with more authority, make sure he wasn’t sending out mixed signals, and above all, exercise restraint and self-control. Then all would be well. Surely, once he’d helped her recover completely, she would forgive him for today. And maybe, that dark voice inside him whispered, she would do it again.
Chapter Five
“Buffy, there is no us. Not anymore.”
He should never have told Giles and Jenny about yesterday’s breakthrough. But another round of disapproval and suspicion from the pair had induced Angel to tell them about Willow’s reaction to his omelet. Anything to forestall their endless questions, their undisguised distrust of his ability to help Willow heal. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
But he should have known better. Should have known that they would share the news with the others. Should have known that Buffy would see it as a sign that Willow would be out of his life soon.
“Why not, Angel?” Buffy pleaded with him, her eyes wide, looking at him in a way that once would have melted his heart. Now it left him with nothing more than a desire to be far away from her.
He knew that mentioning everything that Angelus had done, everything that had happened to Willow, would be useless. Since those things hadn’t deterred her already, bringing them up would only start her off on yet another rant about how he shouldn’t have to pay for Angelus’ crimes; it was obvious Buffy still thought he was in love with her and wanted her back, that he was only staying away from her out of guilt. But there was one other card. One that he was reasonably certain Jenny hadn’t taken out of his hand.
“What about the curse, Buffy? Have you forgotten? The happiness clause?”
She looked confused for a moment, and Angel almost snorted in disbelief. Possibly, she had forgotten. Typical Buffy.
But she regrouped quickly and said, “Of course I haven’t forgotten. And I know that means we can’t make love. But that doesn’t mean we can’t see each other, can’t be together. Please, Angel. We love each other. Don’t do this to us.”
There were tears shining in her eyes. Angel’s heart sank. It was obvious that all she saw when she looked at him was a reflection of herself, of her own needs and desires. She didn’t have a clue how he really felt and it wouldn’t do him any good to try and make her see. A spurned Slayer was an enemy he didn’t need. Not now.
The Judge, the indestructible annihilator of humanity. Now appearing at a shopping mall near you.
This occasion marked Angelus’ big debut on the Sunnydale scene after *decades* of being trapped by that damn Gypsy curse. It should have been a triumph. Instead, it was a rout.
He should have known that any plan concocted by that demented childe of his was bound to be a disaster. And it sure had been. Blue Boy was in a thousand pieces and *he* was running like a wet rat through the sprinkler-soaked corridors of the local mall. Could things be any worse right now? Oh yeah, they could. He had a new toy at home, and, instead of being where he should, playing with her, he was dashing through this throng of annoying humans wearing soggy leather pants.
Wait. His ex-girlfriend was coming down the hall right now. Maybe he should give her a kiss, show her there were no hard feelings.
Or not.
As Buffy came around the corner, he was ready. She never saw it coming as he punched, knocking her to the ground with one solid shot to the face. Too bad about Slayer healing, that would have left a nice shiner on a regular mortal. Well, never mind, there was always a way to leave scars. Even on a Slayer.
He looked down at Buffy, sprawled on the wet floor, and smirked. “You know what the worst part was, huh? Pretending that I loved you.”
She looked wounded. Time to thrust the knife in a little deeper.
“If I’d known how easily you’d give it up, I wouldn’t have even bothered.”
Darn, she didn’t seem to be as hurt as he’d hoped.
“It doesn’t work anymore. You’re not Angel.”
Who would have thought the airheaded bitch could be so quick on the uptake? Damn, he’d been hoping for her usual clueless stupidity to leave him with a nice way to cause her pain.
“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? Doesn’t matter. The important thing is you made me the man I am today.”
Ooh. Now that was a hit. And right back at him. Ouch. She always *had* been more of a fighter than a lover. Angel had sure found that out, and unfortunately, thanks to this body being his as well, so had *he*. He shook off the memories of that regrettable roll in the hay and got back to the business of fighting his mortal enemy. Let’s see if he could put the kibosh on this, drain the bitch, and get back to the little woman.
“You’re not quittin’ on me already, are ya? Come on, Buffy. Let’s finish this so I can go home. After all, Willow’s waiting up for me.”
That did it. Buffy was all fired up now, her anger making her reckless as she fought him. Unfortunately, the ground was slippery and the soul’s “one true love” was getting the upper hand. Dammit, how the hell did she manage to conceal a stake in that skimpy outfit?
“What do you think will happen if you kill me, Buffy? You know, I like to play with my food. Willow could have weeks, even months to live if I’m around. But Dru? She’s never been good at keeping her prey alive for long, and besides, she’ll be angry if you take her Daddy away and she’ll definitely want some payback. Willow will be dead before my ashes hit the ground.”
It worked. Buffy was distracted just long enough for him to knock the stake from her hand.
“You see? You can’t kill me.”
He felt cocky as hell right now. No matter how good a fighter she was, Buffy’s emotions always got in her way. He preened in triumph.
Pride goeth before a kick to the groin.
In a flash, Buffy’s foot connected with his crotch, pain shooting through his entire body. Bitch. This almost felt worse than fucking her.
“That’s for Willow. I wouldn’t hurt her if I were you. You’ll pay for every moment of pain that she suffers. If you think this was bad, you don’t even know what bad is. Let her go, Angel. I mean it. Or you’ll be sorry.”
And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving him moaning and clutching his sore dick. If she thought she was going to defeat his plans for her cute little friend this easily, though, she was in for a rude awakening. Time to go home and get to work on breaking in his new pet. He wasn’t going to let a little thing like this ruin his night.
“Buffy,” Angel tried to make his voice consoling, to sound as if it was as hard for him to let go of her as it obviously was for her to let go of him. “How well do you really think that would work? Don’t you think it would be unfair? To both of us, but especially to you.”
She didn’t understand and Angel fought the urge to sigh in annoyance.
“How long do you think it would be before you would feel cheated? Before you’d want a man who could give you what I can’t. Who could give you a complete relationship.”
“As long as we’re together, Angel, I don’t care about the rest. I love you. Anything we can have is enough for me.”
“What about me, then? How easy do you think it would be for me? Being around you. Knowing what we can never share again.”
Those words were a mistake. He found that out immediately.
“Is that what this is about? Is that what this was all along? You just wanted to get me into bed? Angelus was telling the truth then, wasn’t he. All I ever meant to you was some notch on your belt. Something to brag about in the vampires’ locker room. ‘Guess what, guys? I screwed the Slayer.’ I was just some way to one up all the other demons, to prove you were still a real vampire, even with a soul.”
Angel reached out to her, but she jerked away from his touch, her face red with rage and humiliation.
“Buffy, you know that isn’t true. You know what you meant to me, how I felt, how much I loved you.”
He’d put his foot in it again. She caught his use of the past tense right away and seized on it.
“What I meant to you? What are you saying, Angel? Are you saying that you don’t love me anymore?”
There was nothing he could say. Nothing that would fix this. Because he wasn’t going to lie. So he decided to try and at least be honest in the gentlest possible way.
“No, Buffy, I don’t. Not the way I did. Everything that happened when I lost my soul has made me realize that we just don’t belong together. We’re no good for each other. What happened between us, losing my soul, the clause in my curse, that all just confirms it. We aren’t meant to be. Someday, you’ll realize that I’m right. You’ll find someone else and...”
“It’s this thing with Willow, isn’t it?”
For a moment, Angel panicked. Had Buffy sensed his feelings? Was she not as self-absorbed as he’d thought? Her next words, however, dispelled that notion and were almost a relief.
“You feel guilty because of what Angelus did. But it wasn’t you, Angel. I know you. You would never have done those things to Willow. Why can’t you see that?”
He’d known she’d see things this way. That she would never be able to accept that he didn’t love her anymore. That she’d have to find some excuse for why he was saying goodbye to what they had shared.
“Buffy, this isn’t about Willow. This is about you and me. A Slayer and a vampire. Two people who should never have fallen in love. Two people who are all wrong for each other. Who can never be anything but wrong for each other.”
He reached out to wipe a tear from Buffy’s cheek, hoping the tender gesture would soften his words, make them easier for her to accept. He had loved her once, and a part of him hated that she was hurting.
She flinched and glared at him. She was obviously not going to be mollified.
“Buffy, think about what I’ve said. I know it hurts right now, but. . .”
“But what, Angel? But what? Are you going to tell me you’re doing this for my own good? That someday I’ll thank you? Because I won’t. I love you. And I don’t believe you mean any of this. I know that you still love me. The kind of love we have doesn’t just go away.”
Angel ran his hand through his hair in frustration. For the first time, he realized just how much teenage girl was a part of the Slayer he had loved. She wasn’t going to make this easy, and right now he couldn’t deal with her any longer.
“Buffy, I think you should go. You’re in no condition to see Willow right now, and you and I have nothing more to say to each other.”
“Angel. . .”
“Buffy, just go. Please.”
“Angel, if I leave now, you’ll never see me again. I mean it.”
He stayed silent, knowing she didn’t mean it. Knowing that, even if she left right now, she’d be back and this whole mess would start up all over again.
“Alright, Angel. If you’re willing to throw away what we have, I’m going.”
With that, she flounced out the front door, slamming it behind her. Angel knew where she was going. Straight to Giles and Jenny. He dreaded what he was going to endure later when the two of them paid him a visit.
For now, though, he needed to go upstairs and check on Willow. He hoped she hadn’t heard any of the argument. Buffy upset her under the best of circumstances, but Buffy in a temper would likely terrify her. Besides, he needed to think, to plan his defense for when Giles and Jenny showed up, ready to take Willow away from him, and he could do that better if he was with the girl he loved. Being with her made everything make sense, made him feel less torn apart, less conflicted. Even before he had found out his soul was no longer in jeopardy.
When he got to the door, the pounding of Willow’s heart and the scent of her tears told him that she’d obviously heard something and his demon roared within him. Damn Buffy for a selfish bitch. Did she ever think of anyone but herself? Did she care nothing for the damaged girl she called her best friend?
He walked in and saw Willow curled up on the bed, crying. She sprang to her feet and ran to him, wrapping her arms around him and holding on for dear life.
“Shh, sweetling,” he consoled her. “No need for you to cry. She’s gone. It’s just us now.”
Willow looked into his face, but he wasn’t quite able to read her expression. That is, until she began to sink to her knees. He pulled her up quickly and looked into her eyes.
“No. Willow, you don’t have to do that for me. I’m not going to send you away. Please listen to me, sweetheart. You don’t have to do anything for me.”
Willow looked so beautiful on her knees, his cock sliding in and out of her mouth. Angelus was going to have to immortalize this in charcoal. Hell, he might have to break out the oil paints and canvas to do her justice. No one gave head like his pet.
She’d had some stage fright the first time he demanded she perform in front of his childer, but a little discipline had cured her of that, and tonight she had knelt before him without a hint of reluctance. Her training was coming along nicely.
He groaned as she began to work him in earnest. She hesitated slightly as she heard him ask one of the minions to bring him something to drink and he growled low in his throat. Even the slightest trace of disobedience was not to be tolerated. He’d ordered her to suck him off, not worry about who was watching.
Ah, that’s the ticket. Back at her task, like a good little whore. He threaded his hands tightly in her hair, tugging it painfully as he guided her in the hard and fast rhythm he needed to finish. He came quickly, flooding her mouth with his release, and he watched approvingly as she swallowed every drop and licked the last traces from his cock. He patted her head as if she were a faithful hound.
Spike cheered and applauded raucously and Angelus felt Willow stiffen. He glared at her. She should be pleased by Spike’s reaction. It meant she had performed well enough to excite admiration and envy in her audience. He thought he’d cured her of that ridiculous shyness and self-consciousness. After all, everything she was belonged to *him* now. She *had* no self. Obviously, she hadn’t learned that lesson yet. Despite the promising start to the evening's entertainment, she’d defied him twice tonight. That sort of behaviour could not go unpunished.
“Go upstairs and wait for me, Willow.”
His tone was gruff and curt and Willow obeyed immediately. She should have been this compliant before, then she would have no reason to be giving off the waves of fear he could still scent even as she left the room. He got up and followed her, the sound of a chuckle from Spike accompanying his departure. His pet needed some remedial discipline.
She looked wounded and confused, her eyes brimming with tears, and Angel felt his heart ache. But then her hand was on his cock, stroking him through his trousers, and he had to do something to stop her. He pulled her hand away, grabbed both her wrists, and held them tight, keeping her hands away from his body. He didn’t know how much more he could take.
“Willow. Listen to me.” He tried to be firm. “This is not what we are. I’m not him. You don’t have to do these things for me. I don’t want you to do these things for me.”
He hoped he was convincing. His whole body ached with the effort of denying her. But this wasn’t what she wanted; he knew that. It was what his demonic counterpart had trained her to do.
She looked abandoned and sad as he let go of her wrists and watched her sit down on the edge of the bed. She seemed lost, as if she didn’t know where she was. . .or who she was. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but it seemed that was exactly what he had done. God help him if he’d undone all the progress she’d made yesterday. She didn’t understand that he had rejected her advances because he loved her. That he was doing this for her own good. Angel’s gut twisted as he sat next to her and put his hand over hers.
“Willow, sweetheart, look at me.”
She stared at the ground, unwilling to look into his eyes. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Please don’t be sad. I’m not trying to hurt you. But it wouldn’t be right for me to be with you. Not like this. Not while you’re still so fragile. This isn’t what you want, not really. I know you don’t understand right now, but someday you will and you’ll be glad that we didn’t do this. What happened last night can’t happen again. I should have made you stop. But I didn’t and I took advantage of you. You don’t realize that now, but when you do, I just hope you can forgive me.”
Willow still looked confused and unhappy, but not as lost, and Angel considered that a small victory. He kissed the top of her head and stood up.
“It’s dinnertime. Would you like to come downstairs and help me cook? I’d love your company.”
She looked at him blankly but nodded her head. He took her hand as she rose from the bed and together they headed towards the kitchen. He would be cooking a real dinner for her for the first time; he only hoped that she didn’t try to “thank” him for it.
The groceries he ordered had been delivered and Angel rattled off a list of possibilities to Willow, his heart sinking when she didn’t respond. Well, he supposed it was too much to hope for. After all, it was only yesterday that she had even expressed approval of the omelet. He could hardly expect her to make a choice so soon, especially after what had just happened upstairs. Still, it pained him to see her sitting on a stool, staring at the ground. There was no expression on her face and her blankness nearly brought him to tears. Maybe her meal would make her smile.
He decided to make her a cheeseburger. It was a simple thing and one that he knew most teenagers liked. He only hoped Willow was one of them. He ruffled her hair, then he set about his task. Dinner, he realized sadly, would not be the joyous occasion that yesterday’s breakfast had been. Nevertheless, he hoped that cooking for her again would show her that his rejection of her sexual favours a few minutes ago was not a rejection of her.
She sat quietly as he prepared her meal and the smile Angel hoped for wasn’t there when he put her burger on a plate and handed it to her with a flourish and an exaggerated “Bon appetit.” She ate quickly, and without a hint of enjoyment, her chewing and swallowing rhythmic and mechanical. He sighed, and she looked at him with a curious and slightly fearful expression, worried that she had displeased him somehow. He couldn’t stand to see her like this. Not after seeing her so much happier yesterday. It was more than his heart could bear. He took her by the hand and pulled her up to stand in front of him.
“Willow, please don’t shut yourself off from me again. I care about you so much, sweetheart. Don’t you know that?”
He gathered her into his embrace, almost crowing when he felt her relax against him. She looked up into his face and he found himself getting lost in her eyes. She was his. She belonged to him in a way that no one ever had before and something in him needed desperately for her to know that. This time, there was no resistance left in him. So he kissed her.
She responded with an ardor that left him stunned, seeming hungry for his affection and his touch. For the first time, he truly felt that they were sharing something. He knew that she had never had this kind of intimacy with Angelus, this kind of caring and giving, and he longed to show her everything she hadn’t known before. But there wasn’t time. Jenny and Giles would be here soon and, if his luck was really bad, Buffy and Xander would be accompanying them. So, with a heavy heart and a frustrated body, he broke off the kiss and gently pushed Willow away.
“Sweetheart.” He spoke kindly, hoping to forestall the pain and rejection he knew she would feel. “I want you. Believe me. I want you so much.”
That was an understatement, and he hoped she realized how much effort it took for him not to just carry her upstairs and make love to her for the rest of the night. It was only the knowledge of just what would happen if they were caught that kept his resolve as firm as a certain part of his body.
“But your friends will be here soon and I have to talk to them.”
She nodded. Good.
“Let’s just go upstairs and get you dressed. I think it would be a good idea for you to see them tonight, if you feel up to it.”
He hoped she was agreeable to his suggestion. Her presence would certainly help keep him from being rounded on too severely, something he was not anxious to endure after having already dealt with Buffy today. Fortunately, the fates were smiling on him and Willow nodded her assent.
“After they go home, we’ll talk some more, okay?”
She smiled. It was the dazzling smile he loved so much and his heart almost burst. God help Giles and Jenny if they tried to take her away from him now. Willow was his, and he was ready to drain anyone who got between them.
He wondered briefly why that last thought didn’t make him feel nearly as guilty as it should, but he shook it off as he walked upstairs holding Willow’s hand. There would be time for brooding later. For now, they would just prepare for this evening’s visitors.
Tbc...
Chapter 6 - Escape Me Never
The nightly visitors would be there soon and they were both ready. Angel wore a black silk shirt and black trousers, casual, but elegant, and Willow was wearing one of the many ensembles he’d purchased for her, attire that suited her quiet beauty without doing violence to the shy girl she still was despite her ordeal at the hands of Angelus.
As much as Angel had to acknowledge the crass appeal of Buffy’s skimpy outfits, the short skirts and skin-tight tops, he would never want Willow to dress that way. His mind flashed back to Halloween and he nearly growled. Trust Buffy to think it was a good idea to deck Willow out in the same vulgar style she always sported. It had been almost an abomination. No, Willow wasn’t Buffy. She didn’t need to display all her wares at the front of the market stall in order to be alluring.
Take now, for instance. There she stood, calf-length, moss green plaid skirt skimming her hips, showing just enough well-turned ankle and gently rounded calf to make a man’s mouth go dry wondering what further delights lay yet undiscovered; cream silk blouse giving just a hint of the soft curves it concealed; grey cashmere cardigan clinging to lovely, slender arms, and it was all Angel could do to keep from undressing her piece by piece, a groan nearly escaping his lips as he imagined unveiling her nubile form and taking her to his bed. Maybe it had taken losing his soul and regaining it yet again to bring his aesthetic in line with his age, but now that it had finally happened, Angel could hardly believe he’d ever preferred the cheap and obvious to Willow’s more discriminating appeal.
The sound of the doorbell broke through his dangerous reverie and he took Willow’s arm to escort her downstairs. The doorbell was a good sign. Giles and Jenny always used it when they arrived alone; when accompanied by Buffy and Xander, they all just barged right in. Tonight, fortune must be favoring him with at least the ghost of a smile.
As they reached the door, Angel could only hear the sound of one heartbeat besides Willow’s and he was a bit puzzled. They had never had only one visitor of a night. His nose told him the identity of this evening’s lone caller before he opened the door. Jenny Calendar was here, and without her tweed-clad Romeo. This was a bit of a surprise. Angel had a feeling his earlier relief might well have been misplaced as he opened the door to admit her.
“Good evening, Angel.”
Her tone was stiff and formal, as always, her hatred for him seething just below the surface. She was startled, but also looked relieved to see Willow standing beside him and he realized that she must have been dreading coming here by herself, remembering a time not so long ago when the two of them, or at least she and his demon, had been alone in a room together.
Drusilla had been acting like a spoiled brat lately, but at least she still knew which side her bread was blooded on. And today she had told him the most curious story. About a teacher. And her family. And a curse.
Sunnydale High was such a fascinating place. He hadn’t been much for book learning as a lad - that was dear William’s provenance, not his - but maybe he’d been missing something. Of course, the teachers hadn’t been nearly as fetching in his day as the one engrossed in working on her computer right now, unaware of his presence.
“Come on, come on. That’s it. That’ll work.”
She was downright chipper, the pretty gypsy was. She’d obviously figured something out. Something important, if the gleeful expression on her face as she read over the paper being spewed out by the printer was any indication. Well, good news was always better shared. Let’s see if he could get her to open up.
She gasped. “Angel.”
Ah, so she finally realized she wasn’t alone. Good. His feelings had been hurt by her earlier obliviousness. He wasn’t used to being ignored by beautiful women. Still, it did sting a bit that she hadn’t gotten his name right. Oh well, he supposed he could forgive her mistake just this once.
“How’d you get in here?”
“I was invited.”
She looked confused. Maybe he hadn’t missed out on much after all. For a teacher, she sure didn’t seem too sharp.
“The sign in front of the school: Formatia trans sicere educatorum.”
“Enter all ye who seek knowledge.”
Oh good. Angelus had begun to despair of modern education. At least she knew her Latin.
“What can I say? I’m a knowledge seeker.”
“Angel, I’ve got good news.”
There she was with that name again. How many people did a vamp have to drain to get some respect? Wasn’t taking ownership of Willow a good enough indication that he was no longer a housepet? Seems that Willow wasn’t the only one who still required some instruction. Because this teacher certainly seemed in need of a good lesson.
“I heard. You went shopping at the local boogedy-boogedy store.”
At least she was looking properly terrified now, backing away as he approached the desk. It wasn’t quite the shrieking and pleading he deserved, but it would do for the moment.
“The Orb of Thesulah. If memory serves, this is supposed to summon a person’s soul from the ether. Store it until it can be transferred.”
The Orb glowed as it lay nestled in the palm of his hand. The nerve of the gypsy bitch, trying to neuter him again. She’d pay for this.
“You know what I hate most about these things?”
The Orb shattered into a cloud of glass and dust as he threw it full force against the wall. The teacher finally screamed. Not for the last time tonight, he’d make sure of that.
“They’re so damn fragile. Must be that shoddy, Gypsy craftsmanship, huh?”
Aw. Guess that racial slur offended her. Her terror won out over her umbrage, however, and she was backing away again. Good. He hated not getting his point across.
The sweet scent of her fear was giving him all sorts of delicious ideas. She might just be the perfect object lesson for his lovely, but stubborn, little Willow. Watching her favorite teacher die a painful, lingering death might help his pet to learn her place once and for all. But first things first, time to get rid of every trace of that hideous curse once and for all.
He stood over the computer. It seemed so innocuous, just plastic and glass. Yet within it...
“I never cease to be amazed at how much the world has changed in just two and a half centuries. It’s a miracle to me. You put the secrets to restoring my soul in here.”
With a crash and a shower of sparks, the computer now lay broken beyond repair on the floor at his feet. All knowledge really *was* ephemeral.
“It comes out here.”
He yanked the printout from the machine and smirked. It felt good to have power over the very thing that had caged him so degradingly for so long.
“The Ritual of Restoration. Wow. This... This brings back memories.”
He began to tear it up, gazing into the flames building inside the ruins of the computer.
“Wait, that’s your...”
“My cure?”
How could anyone so stupid have ever become a teacher? As if he would give up all of this- the power, the bloodshed, the joys of pet ownership- in order to go back to being a fluffy, defanged, pathetic shadow of a vampire.
“No thanks. Been there, done that... Deja vu just isn’t what it used to be.”
He dropped the scraps of torn paper one by one into the fire.
“Boy, isn’t this my lucky day. The computer... and the pages. Looks like I get to kill two birds with one stone.”
She was edging towards the door. Goody. It was always more fun when they tried to make a run for it. Of course, she’d be even more frightened if she knew what his plans were. Stupid bitch probably thought she’d just be a drain and drop.
He let his true face emerge as he looked up from the fire that was consuming the curse.
“The teacher... makes... three.”
And she’s off! First a clumsy stumble right into his arms. No fun at all. So he let her go, watching as she dashed out the door and nearly fell on her face while she was at it. Damn her, she was making this almost too easy.
“Jenny! ”
Oh hell! Everyone’s favorite buzzkill was here. Dammit, shouldn’t stuffy old librarians be in bed at this hour?
“Rupert!” He heard her call out. “It’s Angel, he’s here.”
She was out of breath and he watched from a distance as she fell into the Watcher’s arms.
“The curse... the Orb.” She looked so crestfallen, even from this distance. Angelus wished he could stay and gloat, but he had a girl at home who needed tending to and it wouldn’t do to keep her waiting.
It was a pity, though, that he wouldn’t be bringing a guest with him. Sure, he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do, but he hated to give up on the idea of finally making Willow the perfect pet... tonight. Still, Jenny Calendar wasn’t the only fish in the sea, might not even be the *best* fish now that he thought about it. There might be others much better suited to the task of helping Willow achieve her full potential. Hmm... wonder what Cordelia Chase was up to this evening...
“Jenny.” Angel’s voice broke the uncomfortable silence as she stood in the foyer, her hand almost twitching with what he could tell was a desire to reach back for the doorknob.
“Rupert couldn’t make it this evening.”
“Or Xander either, I suppose.”
Angel couldn’t resist getting a dig in while Jenny was backed into a corner, both literally and figuratively, feeling rather disturbingly like his counterpart as he enjoyed watching her jaw clench with the effort to conceal her loathing of him from Willow. After all the times she’d made him sweat, though, even his soul had to be forgiven for delighting a bit in her discomfort.
“They’re with Buffy.”
“I hope they can make her understand. I didn’t want to hurt her. But I’m sure you agree that it was the right thing to do.”
Jenny was silent for a moment and Angel could almost hear the wheels turning as she tried to gauge his motives. Suspicious bitch. He could tell that, out of all of them, she was the only one who would see Willow as a possible romantic rival for Buffy, as a possible reason other than guilt and altruism for him to have ended his doomed love affair with the girl. Under other circumstances, he might have been glad that someone besides him appreciated Willow as more than just a shoulder to cry on and a helpful lackey with a knack for research and extraordinary computer skills, but now that very perception could well be a spanner in the works and Angel viewed it with something akin to alarm. He couldn't believe he'd once thought Jenny the least troublesome of Willow's self-styled protectors. If it weren’t for the fact that she had given him back his soul and thus saved Willow from a life of unimaginable pain and degradation, he’d almost wish that Angelus had killed the meddling gypsy that night at the school.
“I can’t give her the things she deserves. I hope that someday soon she sees that, as hard as it was for me to give her up, I did what was best for her.”
“Well, while I might wish that you had come to this realization before you lost your soul, I’m glad you realize now what a mistake it is for you to be involved.”
The words “with Buffy” didn’t appear at the end of her remark and Angel got the gist of things. She was definitely warning him off Willow. He’d been right to be wary.
He did his best to look tormented. “I haven’t forgotten the curse, Jenny. How could I? Believe me, I don’t want Angelus to be free again any more than you do.”
He could feel Willow tense beside him at the mention of his demonic counterpart. He wondered how much of their conversation had registered with her. He had a feeling she understood more than she let on. In the past day or two, he’d come to believe that Willow’s condition was much more complicated than he or the others had previously thought. She wasn’t Drusilla, and her mind, being far more agile, had adapted in unique and far more convoluted ways than that of the fey creature who’d been his first “creation.” Maybe she wasn’t so much broken as she was... altered.
Letting his mind wander right now was a mistake, however, and Angel quickly reined in his thoughts and refocused on the conversation at hand. Jenny Calendar was a cunning foe and if he wanted to stay ahead of whatever game she was playing, he’d have to pay close attention to everything she said, and everything she didn’t say.
Her eyes didn’t meet his and he could tell his remark about his soul had discomfitted her. She quickly switched gears and addressed the girl by his side.
“Willow.” Her smile was forced and oozed treacle. “You look so pretty tonight.”
Willow said nothing, eyeing Jenny with the same suspicion she always did. Good girl.
“I don’t remember ever seeing you in that outfit before, is it new?”
Trust Jenny not to let go of her feud with him for a single moment. Even when talking to Willow, she had to fire a salvo at him. Willow stayed silent, so after an awkward moment, long enough for Jenny to get the point, Angel stepped in with an answer.
“Yes, it is. I thought new clothes would cheer Willow up, make her feel better. They always seemed to do the trick for Buffy.”
Evoking Buffy was a risky move, one that might have hurt Willow’s feelings and made her doubt his, but if Jenny took it as a sign that Buffy was still the girl who held his heart, it would buy them both time and peace. He made sure Jenny’s eyes were elsewhere and then he squeezed Willow’s hand tight, hoping the gesture gave her encouragement and told her the truth, that he hadn’t been thinking of Buffy at all.
“Well, what a nice thing for you to do, Angel.”
Jenny’s smile was tight, her jaw almost strained with the effort of forcing herself to be civil and pleasant and Angel suppressed a chuckle at the thought of how much discomfort she would likely be in later as a result.
“It’s the least I could do. Surely you agree, Jenny.”
Angel could play the civility game as well as she could, probably better, and he seemed to have put her at rather a disadvantage. Now all he could do was see how the rest of the evening’s visit unfolded.
“Yes.” She looked around uncomfortably, obviously feeling uncertain once more. Her lack of a ready support system was telling on her resolve.
The silence that ensued was deafening. Willow continued to look at the ground or at Angel, never at Jenny, and the woman seemed at a loss for more to say. She was perceptive enough to realize that Willow wasn’t going to speak to her tonight, didn’t want to speak to her. There was pain in her eyes and, for a moment, Angel almost felt sorry for her. She did, after all, care deeply for Willow and the girl’s antipathy for her had to be painful. Still, Angel’s sympathy had limits. Jenny was the enemy. If one of them had to suffer the pain of losing Willow, it was going to be her; Angel had no compunction about that.
“Well.” Jenny finally spoke. “Perhaps I should be going. It’s getting late and I’m sure Rupert’s waiting up for me.”
At first Angel wondered why she’d made that final remark. Surely she knew he wasn’t going to do her any harm. Unwelcome sympathy welled up in him again as he realized that Jenny was saying the words for her own benefit, not his. She hadn’t understood before just what getting involved with Giles would mean, that whether he loved her or not, she would never be the center of his world. That would always be his Slayer. Right now, Giles would either still be with Buffy or would have fallen into worry-plagued sleep fretting about her after driving her home. He would not be waiting up for Jenny. Jenny would barely have crossed his mind tonight. He might well love her with what he believed was all his heart, but he was a Watcher, and the Watcher would always trump the man.
Angel felt for the woman. Falling for Rupert Giles had cost her dearly, and she continued to pay that cost every day. He wondered if he wasn’t the only one tethered to Sunnydale by strands of red hair alone. Once Jenny gave up the battle and accepted that Willow belonged to Angel, he could see her cutting her losses and leaving town. That would undoubtedly be best for her. She’d never be happy in a world where Buffy was always at the center. Duplicitous, cunning foe that she was, Angel could wish her well once she’d conceded defeat. He hoped for both their sakes that day was soon.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Willow.”
With that, she left. Angel listened to each step she took away from the mansion. At the sound of her car pulling away, Angel turned and saw Willow walking towards the stairs. She was upset, he could tell and he wondered if there had been any other way to handle Jenny tonight. A way that would not have involved distressing Willow. It was all academic now, however, and Angel decided to stop his pointless ruminations and focus on repairing the damage he had caused. He followed Willow upstairs, waiting until they had reached their bedroom before speaking.
“Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked, knowing she wouldn’t answer.
He sat on the bed and patted the space next to him, hoping she would accept his silent invitation and sit beside him. She did, and Angel let go of the breath he’d been holding, a human reflex that hadn’t left him, for all its uselessness. Taking her hands in his, and feeling further relieved when she didn’t pull away, he continued.
“I didn’t mean what I said to Jenny. I want you to believe me. You have to believe me. Nothing between us has anything to do with Buffy. Not the clothes I buy you, not the way I treat you, nothing. But I had to say those things, had to make Jenny believe that I still love Buffy. You have to understand. I know you know that they want to take you away from me. Buffy, Giles, Xander, Jenny, they are looking for any excuse. If they find out how I feel about you...”
Willow was looking at him with those eyes again, those soft, beautiful eyes so full of love and Angel could no longer speak, he couldn’t think of any more words to say. So he kissed her.
It was a passionate kiss, full of all the emotion he couldn’t find the words to tell her he felt, full of all the love and lust and dominance and protectiveness and need that roiled within him, a tempest of feelings both pure and depraved, both saintly and demonic. All those violent, intense emotions that Willow inspired in him. Emotions he hoped with all his soul and demon had counterparts within her.
She responded, returning his kiss with an ardor equal to and even surpassing that she had expressed earlier that night. He moaned into her mouth as the kiss grew more passionate still, as they clung to each other ever more desperately. Even had he wanted to, Angel could not have stopped himself from taking her now, and if the way she held him and caressed him was any indication, she didn’t want him to stop in any case.
He broke off the kiss, taking in with pride her swollen lips and panting breaths. His hands moved to her sweater, pushing it down her shoulders as she helped him take it off. The rest of the task of undressing her was one he wanted to perform himself, so he stopped her as she began to undo the buttons on her blouse.
For all the memories he shared with Angelus, this would be the first time he made love to Willow. The first time she shared her body with someone who loved her and cherished her. It was a momentous occasion and Angel wanted to make it perfect for the both of them, especially for Willow. She had endured so much. He wanted to teach her about making love, that it was something beautiful and caring, completely unlike the sexual degradation she had endured at the hands of his demon.
He untucked her blouse from her skirt and undid the buttons slowly, bending to plant a kiss on each patch of skin as he uncovered it. Willow’s eyes were bright with desire, but she was used to obedience and made no move to hurry him along. When he was done, the silk fabric slid easily down her arms and he made short work of finishing the job of removing it and tossing it aside, his eyes focused on what now lay open to his gaze, Willow’s breasts encased in soft, cream-colored lace.
If he had needed to breathe, he would never have been able to do so. There she was, still so innocent in spite of everything, her eyes wide, looking for all the world like the virgin she had been before Angelus had taken her. But there was a sensuality, too, a knowingness that beguiled him as surely as that purity of soul his demon had not been able to corrupt and destroy. She was an intoxicating paradox and his vow to take this slowly, to be gentle and patient, was being tested just by looking at her.
She got to her feet, surprising him by her defiance of his implicit command, unfastening her skirt and letting it puddle on the floor at her feet as she stepped out of it and stood before him. Her hand moved to his face and he covered it with his own while she caressed his cheek. She seemed unconscious of her near nudity and of the allure she possessed. But it certainly didn’t escape Angel’s notice.
He stood up also, bringing her hand to his lips briefly before taking her in his arms and kissing her again. He let his hands roam over her body, delighting in the softness of her skin, softness that shamed the cashmere and silk she’d so recently been wearing. She was yielding and pliant in his arms, but ardent as well, her need obvious as she gave herself over to him. Her arousal perfumed the air and he could hear his demon roar within him. This was not a scent Angelus had ever experienced and Angel gloated internally that he had brought her to this new place, a place where her desire was real and not something she had willed herself to feel in order to please his demon and spare herself the worst of his torments.
His hands moved to the clasp of her bra and he unfastened it, watching as the straps slid off her shoulders and the delicate garment fell to the floor. He sat back down on the bed as she stood before him. He gazed for a moment, drinking in her perfection. Then he drew her close and took one of her breasts in his mouth, gently teasing her nipple with his tongue and teeth, glorying in her moans and the heady scent of her deepening arousal.
He couldn’t be patient much longer, for all his good intentions, his own need was becoming too great; he sensed Willow’s was as well. He pulled her down towards the bed, the sudden movement causing her to fall onto her stomach; he rolled her onto her back. She giggled at his eagerness, one of those sunshine smiles he cherished lighting up her face.
“I love you.”
His voice was soft and for a moment he wasn’t sure she heard him, but she reached up and pulled his head towards hers, begging for a kiss, silently acknowledging his words. Certainly, he had hoped to hear those same three words from her, but he knew it was too much to expect and more than he deserved. It was enough that she was accepting his love and sharing herself with him so trustingly.
He lay down beside her and began to kiss and caress her again. She surprised him by becoming more bold and taking some of the initiative, unbuttoning his shirt with eager, fumbling hands. This sign that she wanted him so badly nearly brought tears to his eyes and he helped her along, his own movements almost frenzied as he saw the desire in her eyes. His pants soon went the way of his shirt, her hands on his belt buckle making him willing to rip them off his body if need be and making him happier than ever before that he never saw a need to wear underclothes.
Now the only barrier between them was a thin scrap of cream-coloured lace, an easily replaced scrap at that. So Angel tore the panties from Willow’s body, not stopping to worry if the violence of his desire might frighten her. He was too far gone, his need too urgent, to pay heed to any misgivings he might have had about being so rough.
As if anticipating his wishes, or perhaps out of her own lust, Willow spread her legs for him. The contrast between her pale skin and the reddish brown curls that covered her sex was striking, almost too beautiful to be real. He knew he had to taste her, to show her one of the pleasures Angelus had been too selfish, too wrapped up in his own gratification, to share with her.
She gasped in surprise at the first touch of Angel’s tongue on her sex. Angelus had only done this to her once, and then only to taste her virgin’s blood the first time he’d brutalized her. He had never done this to bring her pleasure, to savour and devour her and to glory in her taste and scent and essence. Only Angel would truly know her, would truly experience her body in this most intimate way, use his tongue and lips and fingers and teeth to send her spiraling into ecstasy, know the power of giving her something that was all about her, even as it brought him a pleasure beyond the purely physical.
Soon she was shaking on the precipice of release and Angel sent her over the edge, delighting in the taste of her nectar.
“Angel!”
It was too much for him to take and he came as well, the sound of his name on her lips, the knowledge that she knew completely who she was with, causing him to experience a kind of sexual joy that he’d never known before. Willow had given herself to him, shared herself with him, and that knowledge was glorious.
It was only a moment later that he was hard again, his desire for her unslaked, and he moved up her body, positioned himself at her entrance, and was inside her in one thrust. He stilled for a moment, wanting to commit each sensation to memory, wanting to ensure that the look in her eyes as she felt him, Angel, inside her for the first time never left him. But it wasn’t long before she began urging him on with her moans, encouraging him to move, so he did. She cried out as he began to thrust, her hips rising to meet his, her legs wrapping around him. He couldn’t hold back and he could tell she didn’t want him to, so he gave all of himself to her, demon and man, in a way that was as much a first for him as it was for her. He gave and took, surrendered himself to her and conquered her, and they climaxed together, tears shining in both their eyes, his fangs in her breast, her scream of completion echoing in the air.
As they both came down from their sexual high, Angel pulled out of her body and drew her into his arms as he lay beside her on the bed.
“I love you, Willow.”
“I love you, Angel.”
The words may have been whispered, but Angel heard them and his heart soared. She loved him. She was his. Tonight she had given herself to him as completely as he had to her. Angel knew with unshakeable certainty that his soul must truly be his forever, because he had never known such rapture.
He held her tightly to him as she fell into an exhausted sleep in which he would soon join her. But he knew that when he awoke, he had some thinking to do. Tonight had made it necessary to face the reality of their situation, to think about the future, and to be willing to make some hard choices not just for himself, but for Willow as well. He only hoped that, when all was said and done, those choices would be ones that Willow could forgive him for.
Tbc...
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