GOOD INTENTIONS
Author: Ash
E-Mail: aka_jay66@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, no matter how much I might want to, and someday I'll learn to accept that.
Feedback: Would be appreciated.
Summary: Set in the time when Angelus roamed free and Willow still babbled. When Willow tries to help Buffy feel safe, she has the best of intentions. That should have been a warning sign right there.

Part One

The moon hung low in the sky, shedding only enough light to cast shadows into black relief. Buffy shifted impatiently on her headstone perch and swung her legs in idle circles. Occasionally she glared at the freshly turned patch of earth beneath her.

"Come on," she muttered. "Wake up already." She wondered if bringing a shovel on patrol would be considered unsporting. And what if she got the wrong corpse? That could open whole new frontiers of ick.

"Bored already, lover?"

He was behind her.

Buffy half jumped half fell from the headstone; her feet sank deeply into the soft black dirt and it clung to her like tar. She tried to turn around, couldn't turn around, had to turn around because he was still there. And he was coming closer.

"I remember when you could go all night without a break."

He was moving around her. But slowly. Very slowly.

Buffy twisted her head around and caught just a glimpse of laughing yellow eyes before he moved away again.

"But now... you're pathetic. Weak."

Yanking on her legs had no effect; they remained firmly rooted. Her nails cut gashes in the thick denim and the skin below. Blood ran into her shoes, into the dirt.

"I can help you."

There was a smile in the words, and he was getting closer. Very quickly.

Buffy tried to dodge the blow she felt coming; the air was as thick as water or blood and it dragged against her, slowed her down. His arm snaked around her neck, pulled her back until she was curved like a bow, her legs now trapped up to the knees in the horribly soft, horribly wet ground.

"No." Buffy managed to say out loud, bringing the stake she held up slowly. (too slow) He knocked it away easily and left her hands convulsively grasping at nothing. "Stop." Her windpipe was shrinking, dwindling like her vision, in a second both would be gone.

"Calm down," He said into her ear.

His arm relaxed and Buffy took in a painful breath of metallic air. I'm alive, she thought in a hysterical rush. I'm alive alive alive not going to die.

He chuckled. One hand ran up through her hair, hair, the feel of strong cold fingers against her scalp bringing a familiar twinge of pain.

"No, you're not going to die." His grip on her hair tightened, pulled, and forced her head to the side. Angelus lowered his head and spoke against her skin; "You're going to live forever."

Hands closed around her sunken ankles, pulling her down to darkness.

"No!" Buffy jerked upright in bed, her hands snapping to her face. She ran her fingers over the smooth skin as if memorizing her own features, feeling the dry salty rasp of dried tears under her fingertips. I've been crying, she told herself. Vampires don't cry. Vampires can't cry. I've been crying.

It took a few minutes before her mind could process any thought but that. When she could think, the first thing she did was look quickly over at the floor next to her bed. To her relief, the bundle of blankets and pillows showed no signs of life.

Buffy lay back down carefully, feeling for the first time that her mattress was -too- soft and giving. She closed her eyes on new tears, hoping she wouldn't fall asleep again, knowing that she would. Let's see, she thought through the already growing muzziness, that makes three things Slayers can't get that I want: sick days, sex and insomnia. What does that say about my life?

Within moments she was asleep again.

Willow opened her eyes and stared blindly into the darkness.

That's three nightmares in a row, she thought. And from the circles under Buffy's eyes this probably wasn't the first night this had happened.
Willow felt useless. Not just felt, was useless. She couldn't tell Buffy that it would be all right, she couldn't make the monsters disappear, she couldn't even promise Buffy that she wouldn't be vamped, not with Angelus out there acting like it was his personal duty to bring to life every nightmare his 'ex' had ever had.

Besides, Willow thought hopelessly, She's Buffy, save-the-world-girl, stakes vampires in a single bound, the Chosen One. And I'm... She grimaced. ...net girl.

It took a few minutes of silent contemplation before a slow grin started to spread in the darkness. I'm net girl, she thought again. I'm research woman; I can find an answer to every question, a solution to every problem. I can't do what she does, but I can do what I do. It's about time I started doing that.

Willow was still smiling as she snuggled more securely into her sleeping bag, her toes reflexively feeling along the bottom for stray frogs. Finding herself frog free, she drifted off.

***

THUMP

Another book joined the growing pile of tomes stacked on the library counter.

There, Willow thought with satisfaction: the complete History of Vampires. That ought to do it. She glanced around furtively and then began to stuff the books into her bag. She stopped. She sighed.

I can't do this, she thought. It's wrong. Willow took the books back out and began the laborious process of signing each one out. So much for working in secret, she thought wryly. Well, I may have signed them out, but there's no way I'm filing the cards. Nope. No way. Not gonna.

She packed up the books again and marched towards the door, smirking to herself. She was in control. She was a rebel. She could just leave the cards lying there all wild and in disarray on the desk.

Pause.

Where anyone could see them.

Stop.

Where Giles could see them, she thought with sudden panic. And wonder what I'm doing with all these books. I forgot about Giles!

"Good day, Willow." The voice disturbed her thoughts on the knotty problem of Giles and she looked up.

"Giles!" Willow said, her face freezing into a manic grin. She was intensely aware that the cards were right behind her. She needed a distraction and she needed it right away.

"Is that a new suit?" Willow asked desperately.

"Why, yes. I'm gratified that you noticed," Giles said, fingering the lapels smugly. "It's reassuring to know that at least one American can ...er... spot the difference between the varieties of tweed."

This is good, Willow told herself. We have a topic. Now, get him out of the library before he notices the cards. We have to be subtle or he's going to suspect that there's something going on. Subtle, Willow. Subtle. "You'd be surprised!" she blurted.

Giles looked up from his suit, his brow creasing. "What?"

Willow smiled innocently at him, hoping he didn't notice that her eyes were watering. "You'd be surprised, uh, how many people...like tweed!" That almost made sense. She decided to go with it.

"As a matter of fact," Willow continued, glancing out the library door, "I happen to know that Miss Blanchard is passionately interested in tweed! And look, there she goes now!"

"Really?" Giles eyed Miss Blanchard's retreating back sceptically. "Are you quite sure?"

Willow nodded quickly. "Oh yes," she said. "You should talk to her. Now. About tweed!" Tone it down, she cautioned herself. "I mean, since she'd be interested."

Giles gave her a last odd look before he turned and went out the doors. She heard a surprised feminine voice say, "Why, hello Mr. Giles! Your suit-?" before the library doors mercifully swung shut.

Willow's shoulders slumped and she offered up a silent but heartfelt apology to Miss Blanchard. Two steps carried her back to the counter where she swept all the carefully signed cards into her bag before running out of the library, wracked with guilt.

***

Willow had to wait until that night before she could begin searching for a way to vamp-proof Buffy. Securely locked in her room, she spread all of her resources across the floor in a huge semicircle of books that fanned out with her at the center. I have the books, she thought. I have the links, I have the time. Let's go!

Several hours later, Willow surfaced from her paper nest and faced the unpleasant possibility that she didn't have the time. At this point, it was beginning to look like only vampires would have enough time to do this kind of research. Not that they would, but they could.

Willow thought about that, and she thought about the things Buffy said into her pillow while she slept, and she bent again over the books.

Her computer beeped. She hopped up nimbly, shedding books like water, and picked her way over to the computer. The e-mail icon was flashing; when she clicked on it one message came up. It was from someone at grizelda@vox.com, and the body of the message was empty. The subject header read, "Lure of the Shadows, reversed."

Willow's eyes widened. Falling to her knees, she dug through the books, pushing volume after volume aside until - she triumphantly pulled out a large book that looked like it had been designed as a prop for a wizard's lair. Gold letters crawled in spidery script over the black cover, spelling out "Legends of Nightfall."

She flipped quickly through the book until she found the spell she vaguely remembered reading. She'd barely scanned it then, but now a sunny smile crept over her face as she read.

It was no wonder that she'd missed it on the first read through; the Lure of the Shadows spell was intended to -summon- demons, not repel them. But the clue was in the details - the spell itself was designed to be cast on a human. The spell made the blood of the sacrifice irresistible to demons, the otherworldly equivalent of smearing peanut butter on a pinecone and tossing it in a squirrel cage.

Willow couldn't suppress a shudder at the thought of how many people this spell had doubtless turned into instant no-fail demon bait.

It was pleasant to think that she might make up for some of the evil the spell had caused in the past if she reversed it properly.

The best part is that I don't even have to tell Buffy, Willow thought. At least, not until I'm sure it worked. That way, nothing could go wrong!
Willow frowned to herself and muttered, "I wish I hadn't thought that."

***

One school day and a few quick shopping trips later, Willow stood in her room surrounded by assorted occult paraphernalia. She ran through her mental checklist for the thousandth time before beginning the preparations, which were long and complex and involved a good many more sticky liquids than Willow would have preferred. She stopped frequently to wash her hands and put down newspapers. Not for the first time, she wished her parents hadn't put in shag carpeting.

The preparations complete, she read over the revised words of the incantation one more time before she stepped into the center of the overlapping marks that gleamed in wet black circles on the floor.

She carefully placed a picture of Buffy inside one of the smaller circles by her feet, and wished for a panicked moment that she'd written the words of the incantation on her hand instead of trying to memorize the whole thing in one go. She took a deep breath and began.

Closing her eyes and spreading her arms, she spoke to the dead sorcerer Maltheus, addressing him as master and friend. She begged him to lend her the power of the balance he had created that the blood of the sacrifice would be as something unclean to the brethren of the pit.

The syllables of a forgotten time fell from her lips as she praised his power, asking him to force the demons to fear his strength as she did. She bound the name of Angelus into the spell, and bade him be doubly affected by the workings of the magic.

She picked up the picture of Buffy without opening her eyes, carefully placing it in the bowl of water and herbs that stood ready by her hand. She held the bowl above her head as she spoke the words of ending and entreaty.

Steam spilled over the sides of the bowl and streamed over Willow's face and hands in white rivulets. The clay of the bowl was ice against Willow's fingers when she lowered it, still steaming, to her lips.

The strange taste in her mouth was inconsequential, a fading note buried under the growing roar in her ears. The carpet was rough under her cheek; she tried to remember falling. The black hole in the center of her mind was an insistent tug; she let her thoughts fall into it and was grateful when it closed behind them and took them away.

The candles went out.

***

Part Two

Buffy blinked as a cold wave of something washed over her. The feeling only lasted for a second, but for that moment her skin felt like a patchwork of snowflakes stitched together. And then the air was once again warm and dry, and she shrugged off the strange sensation with a shudder.

Giles looked up from the book he was reading.

"Slayer intuition?" He asked, managed to put both sympathy and hope into his voice.

Poor Giles, Buffy thought. Always waiting for me to turn into some kind of supernatural bloodhound. She wrinkled her nose and said, "Sorry, I don't think my Slayer senses are up to that kind of tingling yet. Someone must have walked over my grave." She looked around at the cemetery. "No pun intended."

"What? Oh. Yes."

The guest of honor chose that moment to appear, as the dark earth of the grave suddenly sprouted a pair of white hands. Buffy and Giles watched as the hands scrabbled and clawed for purchase until the new vampire finally disinterred itself with one mighty heave. Clods of loose dirt fell away as he pulled himself to his feet, staggering a little.

Buffy was glad that he was already wearing his game face; it was harder to stake the new ones when they stared at her with confused human eyes. She shifted her grip on the stake and waited for him to rush her.

Instead, the vampire just stared at her. He took a step backwards, nearly tripping over his own headstone. He was frowning.

"You're not going all shy on me, are you?" Buffy said, moving towards him. "Don't I look like a cure for the midnight munchies?" She took another step closer.

The vampire's eyes widened, and he turned to flee. He made it to the edge of the cemetery at approximately the same time as the flying stake and most of him abruptly stopped moving, although a few particles were blown all the way across the street.

Buffy shifted out of her fighting stance and turned to face Giles. "Well, that was strange."

Giles looked up from his book again. "Hmmm?"

"I..." Buffy started, and then realised that if she told him what happened it would inevitably lead to research. If she kept quiet, it'd be Bronze-ward ho!

"It's nothing," Buffy said quickly. "Just my usual banter. Talk, talk, talk, that's all I do. Giles? That was the last of the ones on the list, and I've patrolled the rest of the graveyard."

"Very good." Giles said absently, turning a page.

"Can I go now?" Buffy asked hopefully.

"Mmm? Oh, of course." Giles said, motioning her to leave without looking up from the book.

Buffy walked to the edge of the cemetery and then turned back to check...He was still sitting there. "Giles!" She called loudly.

"What?"

"Find someplace safe to read?"

***

The next morning seemed to last forever. For the first time, Willow understood why other people were always complaining about school. The teachers were boring, the material was useless, and the rules against talking in class were purely sadistic. She couldn't wait until lunchtime.

Even when the lunch bell rang, she still had to wait. She stoically endured food selection, food purchasing and the choosing of seats. Once she, Buffy and Xander were settled at their usual table, she couldn't take it anymore. She had to know if anything had happened last night to make her two-hour clean up session and ten hour migraine worth it. But, she cautioned herself, I have to be cool about it this time. Don't want a repeat of the tweed thing.

"So Buffy," Willow said innocently. "Did anything happen while you were slaying last night?" Both Buffy and Xander stared at her. Uh oh, Willow thought. What did I say- oh! "I mean, when you were...out?"

Xander raised his hands in victory. "Hah!" He whooped "Somebody else said it! I'm not the only idiot around here!" The cafeteria fell silent. Everybody looked at Xander.

As the talking resumed, Buffy patted Xander's hand and said, "No, but you're definitely in the top ten."

Xander slumped forward and put his head on the table.

"Xand-" Buffy started to say, but Xander put up his hand to stop her.

"No. Nobody comfort me. I don't deserve to be comforted. There's nothing anyone could possibly say that would make me feel less stupid right now."

Buffy exchanged a look with Willow. "Xander, your hair is in my fries." Buffy said.

Xander raised his head. "Oh. Well, I was right. I feel no less stupid."

Willow smiled. Xander was so cute when he was embarrassed. Wait! Back on topic! "So... Anything interesting happen last night?"

Buffy shrugged and took another sip of her milkshake. "Nope."

Darn it, Willow thought.

"Oh wait, there was one thing..."

Hope lives!

"Yeah, the new growly I was waiting for didn't even try to fight. He just... sniffed, and ran away." Buffy shook her head. "Weird. So, why'd you ask?"

Inside Willow's mind, she was dancing a jig. It worked! She'd done it! Then, thinking a little more clearly, she said, "Oh, I was just curious. You know, life's been sort of normal lately." It would probably better to not tell Buffy until she was sure. It could have been a fluke. But she didn't think so!

Buffy put her head to one side and raised her eyebrows, "If you're tired of normal," she said. "Why don't you come out on patrol with me tonight? No ancient prophecies, so it's going to be practically doom-free!"

"Sure." Willow said eagerly. "Sounds like fun!" Fun? "I mean, in that demon killing is a good thing, so therefore... fun?"

"Okay, Wills. I'll meet you at seven. Bring your own stake if you can or, failing that, chocolate." That settled, the group spent the remainder of the lunch hour talking about more plebeian horrors like tests, curfews and the ever-looming spectre of midterms.

***

Angelus walked the streets of Sunnydale. This is much the same as saying that the plague walked the streets of Sunnydale, if the plague only killed the attractive and well dressed.

He'd taken the edge off his first hunger with a randomly chosen waitress and was now prepared to be a little more discriminating. Maybe he'd be lucky enough to find one of the Slayer's friends walking around alone. Maybe he could make his own luck.

The only thing he was sure about was that he couldn't stand to do another round of "Buffy, I've got my soul back! Come here, darling!"

He was famous for having a strong stomach - or rather, he was famous for certain other aspects of his personality which necessitated having a strong stomach as well as a soundproofed basement, but this was getting ridiculous.

Baiting Buffy was like hitting one of those inflatable clown dolls. No matter how many times he hit her, up she popped. Buffy, by herself, wasn't this strong. He knew Buffy down to the bone. He knew to an inch how much pain she could stand before she broke, before her mind tore itself down like a paper house. She'd already passed that point.

But still, up she popped. That was the Slayer in her, always kicking in just before he could finish her off. Strong. Powerful. Frustrating as hell.

And then there was Drusilla. Angelus closed his eyes in pain, remembering the events of the day. He'd driven her so far off the edge that even he could hardly stand her. If he didn't so enjoy seeing Spike quietly miserable Angelus would have staked Dru out for the sun long ago. With Miss Edith right beside her. He smirked at the thought.

What the hell had made Dru think you could build a maypole out of skulls?

Angelus was starting to think that what he really needed was a happy medium somewhere between unbreakable and look-the-skulls-are-falling-down-like-comets-crashing.

Caught up in his thoughts, Angelus was taken off guard by the scent of blood coming from somewhere nearby.

Angelus stopped in his tracks and sniffed the air, ignoring the strange looks of the humans around him. He wanted to... he wanted to...

He didn't know what he wanted to do. The scent was confusing, dualistic, disturbing. If it had come in air freshener form, there would have been a yin-yang symbol on the box.

On the one hand, it smelled like the blood of a thousand virgins, purity distilled, innocence begging for corruption. There was darkness there that called to his demon, hints of the multi-textured tastes of despair and conquest and death. It invaded his body via his nose and coiled around his brain like a slick black snake.

On the other hand... Angelus wrinkled his nose. The other half of the smell wasn't bad. There are very few bad smells that can disgust a demon, especially one who lived in the times when saying 'personal hygiene' was like saying 'personal hovercraft'.

This smell wasn't bad, it was boring. It was more than that, it was indifference; the disinterest in death and life alike that stole the pleasure from pain and made eternal life something to be endured rather than enjoyed. If the other was a snake, this was a wall of grey fog, entrance to pale oblivion.

The one pulled him, the other repelled him.

Curiosity broke the tie.

Angelus followed the scent. As he went it grew stronger until it was almost a tangible presence in the air. By the time he reached the cemetery his mind was full of it, innocence and apathy tangling together around his thoughts. Tangling together but becoming separate, and that didn't confuse him, because nothing mattered except finding out what it was. What they were.

People were talking up ahead.

"..so I said, well, I got the right continent, shouldn't I get part marks?"

Buffy. Of course. Slayer blood always was heady stuff. He began to move more slowly, trying to fix her exact position.

"Actually Buffy, Australia is a... right, the unfairness of it! How... how dare she?!"

And Willow, too. Well, well. He was hoping to run into her soon. Alone. But with Buffy suddenly smelling so sweet he might have to kill her sooner than he'd planned and that would make torturing and killing her friends pointless, gratuitous violence of the worst kind. His favourite kind. Things were looking up.

"Thank you for your sympathy." Buffy said, trying to sound upset.

Angelus was close enough now to see the two girls sitting on a blanket in front of a fresh grave. It resembled nothing so much as a morbid kind of picnic, but the humour of the situation was completely lost on Angelus. He moved forward, letting the leaves rustle under his feet.

Buffy looked over her shoulder, her face open and laughing. When she saw Angelus, the smile faded from her mouth and from her eyes. "Angel..." she said, getting to her feet.

Angelus smiled as he walked towards her, feeling his features shift as he got closer to the scent of her. "Close."

"Willow, get out of here." Buffy said quietly. Behind her, Willow took a step backwards, her eyes fixed on Angelus.

"Willow?" Buffy repeated. "Go home. Now."

Willow took a few more stumbling steps backward and then turned and ran, disappearing around the headstones with her hair rising and falling like the red snap of a fox's tail.

There was a shift in the concentrated scents that were doing to Angelus' brain what taffy does to the gears of a well-oiled clock. Blood lust faded, and disgust came boiling in to fill the space it left behind. The change distracted him long enough to let Buffy get in a high kick to the side of his head.

He recovered quickly, grabbing her arms when she came in for the kill. That close to her, the taste was unbearable and he pushed her away hard.

Buffy landed on her feet, but Angelus was already backing away.

"Some other time," He called back to her as he jumped the fence, his head clearing as she got farther away. By the time he reached the road it was clear enough for him to know that Willow had been there when he'd scented ambrosia, and when Willow had gone the scent had gone too and therefore it was Willow that he was mindlessly following now, moving quickly after the scent like a wolf following a trail.

He grinned into the darkness as he went.

___
Part Three

Willow's heart was racing as she fled towards her house. Her feet were on the sidewalk, but her mind was still back in the cemetery with Buffy. and Angelus.

He didn't seem repulsed, she thought sadly. Back to square one for me. She was glad now that she hadn't told Buffy about the spell. It would have broken her heart.. At least this way Willow got another chance. She'd get the spell right this time. Or the next time. Or as many times as it takes.

Her house came into view and Willow put on a final quick burst of speed that ended when she arrived, breathless, on the porch. Fumbling her keys out of her pocket, she leaned against the front door as she tried to sort out her house key from the rest of the bunch. Library key, unknown key, hard drive key, key to the music box Xander had given her when they were five, *another* unknown key.

"Here, let me help you with those." The silky voice came from directly behind her and her keys were gently tugged out of her hands. Willow stood immobile, staring at her empty hands. Please be Xander, she thought.

She turned after waiting for what felt like an eternity and found herself looking at a broad expanse of black satin. Not Xander. Raising her eyes, she met Angelus' gaze, his eyes very dark in the half-light.

"Th..thanks." Willow said jerkily, looking away from his eyes to stare at the keys Angelus held in his hands. His large, strong, deadly hands, she thought with a flutter of panic. Where was Buffy? "I'm okay." She said hopefully. "Really. I can find the right one myself."

Angelus raised an eyebrow and said, "Really?" Turning away from her, he threw the keys into the bushes beside the house. When he turned back, Willow was halfway to the edge of the porch.

Willow squeaked as his cold hand closed around her wrist and brought her to a sudden halt. With a frightening lack of effort, Angelus dragged her back until she was once again standing staring at his chest. Well, Willow thought, that didn't work - back to basics. She opened her mouth to scream.

Angelus clamped his free hand over her mouth and leaned in very close to her. "You can scream if you want to," he whispered against her cheek. "I don't mind at all. I'll enjoy hearing you scream, Willow. But..."

But? Willow thought.

Angelus slowly released his hold on her mouth, his hand never losing contact with her skin as it slid down to grasp her chin. He forced her head up until his dark eyes met her frightened ones.

"Other people might hear you scream and come to interrupt the pleasant conversation we're having." He continued, his eyes searching hers. "I'd have to kill them, of course. I hate pushy people, don't you?"

After a long moment he said, "Well? Aren't you going to scream?"

Willow swallowed hard and shook her head.

Angelus smiled and released her chin. "I knew you were a sensible girl," he said. "Now, I have a few questions to ask you and since the Slayer will be here any minute, you have three choices. One, you can invite me in."

Willow's eyes widened and she shook her head again emphatically, still trying not to make any noise.

"Two," Angelus continued in a calm tone. "You can come home with me."

Yipe! Willow thought, more vampires! No on a grand scale. No cubed. She shook her head again.

Angelus sighed. " Maybe later. I suppose that leaves choice number three, then. We adjourn to your balcony."

That was definitely the lesser of the three evils. Wait, Willow thought. Later?

Willow nodded reluctantly, and then realized something. "Um, could I go in through the house and meet you on the balcony in about five minutes? I'm not very good at climbing."

Angelus just looked at her. "I don't think so." He said finally. "Either you're trying a not-too-clever trick to get away or... you'd actually meet me. It would be interesting to find out which, but not quite interesting enough for me to let you out of my sight."

Willow frowned. "I'm really, really not good at climbing. I'm mind-bogglingly bad at it, actually. The last time I tried to climb up the trellis I fell. Twice! Three times if you count the part where I fell off the porch!"

If I have to climb up there, Willow thought, I'll probably fall on my head and die and if I don't, he's definitely going to kill me. There's no good here!

Angelus smiled in a wholly unreassuring way. "Not a problem."

Before Willow knew what was happening, he had scooped her up with one arm and was holding her tightly against his chest. Willow had the sudden thought that maybe it would have been better to climb on her own and fall and die, but by then they were already halfway up the trellis.

Willow looked down at the ground as it moved away from her in little jumps. I could still jump, she thought. As if in response to her thoughts, Angelus' arm tightened around her painfully, making her fight for breath. Or not, Willow thought. Ow.

Then they were on the balcony. Angelus was still holding her. Not quite tightly enough to interfere with her breathing now, but definitely tightly enough to keep her from wriggling out of his grasp. Willow kicked her feet experimentally, hoping to connect with solid ground, or possibly Angelus' shin. No such luck.

Willow pushed against Angelus' arm in a vain attempt to pry herself free. It was like pushing against a stone wall.

"You can put me down now." Willow said, twisting in his grasp to try and look up at his face and finding that she could only manage it by leaning her head against his shoulder and then tilting her face up. It hurt her neck, but at least she could see him.

She noticed that his eyes seemed slightly unfocused. He looks like Xander when he's around Buffy, she thought. Or like Buffy when she was around shoes.

"Angel?" Willow asked tentatively.

Angelus seemed to snap out of it. "No," he said in a harsh voice. "My name is Angelus."

"Um, sure. Angelus. Could you put me down now?" Pretty please? She smiled tremulously up at him.

Placated, Angelus smiled and lowered her to the ground, sliding her slowly against the length of his body in the presence. Willow shivered at the feel of the satin against her skin. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she cast a hopeful look over at the balcony door. Maybe she could make a run for it.

Catching her glance, Angelus instantly moved to put himself between her and the door, trapping her between him and the balcony rail with only a few inches of space separating them. He shook his head, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

"Naughty Willow." Angelus said. "Don't even think about leaving yet."

***

Angelus could hear the blood rushing through Willow's body, every beat of her heart calling to him, taunting him. Tempting him. The smell of blood hung thick as fog in the air, and in his mind. Suddenly, the question of why Willow was suddenly so attractive was not nearly as important as the question of what he was going to do about it.

He took a step towards her and put his hands on her shoulders. That felt right, getting closer to her. Closer to the blood. He realized that he was stroking her arms gently, up and down, up and down. He could feel her trembling under his palms and that felt right too. Was it fear or excitement that made her tremble? Did he care? He decided that he didn't.

"I..I...You.I." Willow said, the broken sentence catching his attention. He could almost hear her thoughts racing. No doubt she was trying to think of something, anything she could say that would make him go away.

"I have homework due tomorrow!" She finally managed to say.

What? Angelus thought.

Willow's body stiffened and the fear seemed to melt from her. Her eyes widened, possibly focusing on a failing grade in the middle distance, and she pushed blindly past Angelus, heading for the door.

Surprise slowed his reaction and Willow's hand was already on the handle by the time Angelus reached her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her back around to face him.

"You didn't really think that I'd let you go, did you?" Angelus said in a low and dangerous tone. He pushed the collar of her shirt aside to expose her neck and started to lean in-

"Calculus." Willow said absentmindedly. "I...have to do Calculus."

Angelus pulled back and looked into Willow's eyes. They were still unfocused. He snapped his fingers in front of her. Nothing.

"Willow?" Angelus said. She'd stopped trembling, he noticed. He didn't like that. In an attempt to shock her out of her homework-induced catatonia, he tilted her head to the side and began placing soft kisses along her neck. The scent of her blood rose strongly from the pulse beating in her neck, making his head swim.

"Willow?" He said, and kissed the point of her jaw. "Wake..." His mouth traced a path along her jawbone. "Up!" Losing patience, he nipped sharply at her neck and broke the skin. A few drops of blood trickled from the bite and he greedily licked them away.

The taste of the blood washed over him like a black tide and Angelus was lost. The sweetness of it, the heat of it, the *depth* was unbelievable, unbearable. It snapped his control like a twig.

He was in game face now with no memory of shifting.. He bit down in earnest this time, blood rushing into his mouth like liquid life; hot and right and everything that he wanted. It was too good, he had to stop, he was losing control. He couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop.

In one dim corner of his mind, he realized that Willow had finally returned to reality and was struggling in his arms. Wonderful, he thought hazily. He readjusted their positions, pushing her back until she was pressed hard against the balcony door, trapped under the weight of his body. He braced his hands on either side of her head and held her steady while he continued his assault.

***

I'm going to die, Willow thought calmly. It all seemed so clear now. All the years she'd spent on the Hellmouth, all the times since Buffy'd arrived when Willow had been miraculously saved from the brink of death, this was why. This was what she'd been saved for. She could feel her life slipping away - no, being ripped away, torn away from her in blood and pain and confusion and pain and pain and pain.

I'm going to be killed for no apparent reason by my best friend's ex-love interest on my own balcony, Willow thought dreamily. I should have known.

In what she muzzily realized was in the best tradition of pre-death moments, Willow found herself consumed with regret. She was never going to get to tell Oz how she felt about him. She was never going to get to tell Xander how she felt about *him*. She was never -

Her mental litany of might-have-beens was abruptly cut off as a remnant of reason pointed out that something was digging into her back. What was it?

The door handle!

Willow's heart leapt. Trying desperately to be surreptitious, she moved her hand slowly away from where it had been crushed against Angelus' shoulder. When he didn't notice that first movement she reached behind her and wriggled her hand into the tiny gap between her back and the door.

Her fingers touched cold metal. Stretching out her fingertips, she pressed against the handle, sickeningly aware that it was much harder to move than it should be. The handle didn't move. She let out a long shuddering breath that turned into a gasp as Angelus did something -bit harder, angled in, went deeper, twisted - that sent a white-hot shock of pain through her.

Willow tried again, this time trying to force the weight of her body against the handle as well. When it turned a tiny bit, she swallowed a spurt of hysterical laughter. It was working, she thought. Yes! Oh, but the dizziness was getting stronger, she thought. It was getting harder to see and harder to feel the metal under her hand.

She put all her strength into her fingertips and pushed.

The handle turned, and several things happened very quickly. The door flew open, propelled by Angelus' weight, and Willow fell inside the invisible boundary.

Sprawled on the floor, Willow looked up at the furiously angry vampire trapped outside the threshold. Demonic ridges still creased Angelus' skin and there was red around his mouth. My blood, she thought. Creepy. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself, hugging herself tightly as she tried to convince the rest of her body that it was safe to move. Spots danced before her eyes. But she was fine, she was sure of that. She was definitely fine.

"Willow!" Angelus said, his face like thunder. "Invite me in!"

Lifting her head slightly, Willow managed a weak, "No."

Willow thought that his eyes darkened with anger but it was hard to tell. The world was darkening, like all the light bulbs in the room were dying at once. Angelus had his hands against the barricade and she knew that he couldn't get in but she couldn't seem to stop watching him.

Willow wasn't going to turn her back on him, that was for sure. Or her neck, she thought, and giggled weakly. Not really funny, though.

"Let me in, Willow." Angelus growled. "Or... "

There was a pounding noise somewhere downstairs now and Willow could hear the faint sound of Buffy's voice calling, "Willow? Are you okay? Let me in!"

Willow giggled again. That seemed to be the demand of the hour. She knew she should go down and let Buffy in, but she felt so weak. She'd be all right if she got a chance to sleep, if Buffy and Angelus would just stop *talking* to her.

Angelus made a frustrated sound halfway between a growl and a roar. "I don't know what you've done, Willow.." Angelus said in a low, dangerous tone. "But if you undo it or tell anyone what's happened here, I'll destroy everyone you've ever cared about. I'll torture Xander. I'll kill Buffy. Then I'll torture Xander again." He smiled. "This time just for fun."

The threat penetrated Willow's pain-clouded mind and she managed to focus her eyes again. She opened her mouth to say that she wouldn't tell, just don't hurt Xander, please don't hurt anyone, not because of me, but found the words swallowed up in an uncontrollable yawn.

The sound of splintering wood came from downstairs, loud in the silence, but Angelus never took his eyes off Willow.

"Are you going to be good?" He asked.

Willow managed to nod, her eyes half-closed.

Angelus' smile widened. "Be seeing you. " He said, turning away and disappearing into the shadows. The last thing Willow saw as she slipped into unconsciousness was Buffy's face framed in the doorway, her mouth open in a black O.
______

Author Note: A little extra bonus this time, kind of like a late Christmas present, but not really. *g* A drawing I did, inspired by this story, based on photos of Willow and Angel(us)

There's a black and white version, done in pencil, and the same drawing colored in with colored pencil. They're both at my site here:

http://xanadu-dreams.com/drawings.htm

They're at the bottom of the page, since they're my newest ones. You know, I can't believe I haven't drawn Willow or Angelus before. I feel so ashamed. I hope you guys like them, I had a lot of fun making them. It's an entertaining new hobby. :)

Part Four

Buffy paced the corridors of the hospital outside Willow's room. Willow was in there and the doctors were in there and Buffy wasn't in there and all Buffy wanted to do was start punching things and not stop until she felt better.

Buffy stopped walking and breathed deeply, forcing herself to calm down. One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths and the urge to destroy was beginning to die down. It wouldn't help Willow if Buffy got thrown out. It wouldn't even make Buffy feel better.

There was only one thing that would do that, Buffy thought, her hands curling into fists at her side. She would feel better when she'd made Angelus hurt. Bleed. Die.

Buffy's mind stumbled. As much as she hated Angelus, she knew that even if he appeared in front of her holding a stake to his chest and handing her a hammer, she still wouldn't be able to kill him. She was weak, she told herself bitterly. Weak to love him, weak to sleep with him, weak to let him live. And her weakness was a poison that was slowly killing everyone around her.

But she'd get stronger, Buffy thought grimly. Her heart was only one voice in a chorus of voices, and the rest of them were screaming for his death. Her Slayer instincts, her human soul, the part of her that ached for every life she'd been too slow to save from him, all were united in a call for blood and vengeance.

In moments like this one, when a thousand agonizing ways for him to die flickered before Buffy's eyes, when a grim smile touched her lips at the almost heard sound of his screams, one thought blotted out the world around her.

Soon.

So far her softer emotions had always won in the end, chipping away at the corners of her rage until it was a blunt and useless thing. But each time it came the anger remained longer, burned hotter, screamed louder. The time was coming. As Buffy looked through the glass window in the door at Willow lying still and motionless, she prayed that it would come soon enough.

"Buffy?" Xander's voice quavered slightly.

Buffy turned around, pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind so that Xander wouldn't see the darkness in her face. She forced a weak smile, which Xander didn't return. He looked frightened, she thought. That was her fault too.

"She's going to be okay." Buffy said, hoping that it was true.

Xander visibly relaxed. He walked over to stand beside Buffy and looked through the window in the door. She saw him wince when he saw Willow

"Was it." Xander began, but the question trailed off. Better not to say his name. Better still not to need to.

"I don't know." Buffy said. "I haven't had the chance to talk to Willow alone yet. But, probably." Her voice was quiet and leaden.

"Where did you find her?" Xander said, his tone carefully non-judgmental. This wasn't the time to start pointing fingers. Willow wouldn't want that.

"She was in her bedroom. Her balcony doors were open." Buffy said, her mind's eye seeing the scene again in horrible detail. The stuffed animals on the bed, the open doors to the balcony, the blood on Willow's floor and on Buffy's hands.

Xander paused and she could almost feel him deciding not to say something.

"Why would she invite Angel in?" Xander said finally. "Maybe it wasn't him." There was a hopeful note in his voice.

Buffy could guess what he was thinking. If it wasn't Angelus that had hurt Willow then it was someone else. Someone that Buffy could kill.

"Maybe." Buffy said, wishing that she believed it. "If it was... him... she wouldn't have invited him in. Not willingly." Buffy thought of what Angelus might have done to 'persuade' Willow to let him in and felt sick.

Xander's eyes were focused on the large bandage that covered Willow's neck when he asked, "What did you tell the hospital?"

"Um." Buffy shifted nervously, vaguely embarrassed on behalf of the Sunnydale medical personnel. "I said that we'd been attacked. By a gang."

Xander's eyebrows lifted. "They bought that." He said with disbelief. "When her only injuries were two puncture marks and a serious lack of blood? Either there's been a rash of barbecue fork attacks that I haven't heard about, or these people have lived in Sunnydale *way* too long."

Xander's face paled as another possibility occurred to him. "Those were her only injuries, right? He didn't -"

"No!" Buffy cut him off, shaking her head. "That was all."

Xander let out a breath and almost smiled. Then his face darkened again. "How long does she have to stay in here? It's a public place."

Buffy's eyes were again fixed on the pale figure in the bed. "They said she could probably leave tomorrow afternoon," she said. "She can stay at my house until we get the un-invite spell done again. I'm going to stay here tonight."

"I'm staying too." Xander said firmly. He looked like he was expecting her to argue with him. She really should argue with him, Buffy thought. She was the Slayer and this was her job. She was strong and she could protect Willow.

She was very tired and she didn't want to be alone.

"I'm glad you're staying." Buffy said, and smiled gratefully at Xander, surprising a smile from him in return. Together, they stood watch over Willow until the sun had forced the darkness into hiding for another day.

***

The darkness was not happy.

Angelus paced around the silent mansion, his face thunderous. Anger hung around him like a dark cloud.

He furiously remembered the bright, sterile corridors of the hospital and the long hours he'd spent there tonight, waiting for them to leave Willow alone. It would only have taken a moment, he thought. And it would all be over by now.

Angelus stopped walking and leaned against the wall, imagining how it could have happened. Buffy and Xander go to get a coffee. One minute later and Angelus is in the room with Willow. Another minute and they're both gone. And then... he let out a shuddering breath and licked his fangs, savouring the memory of how Willow had tasted.

But no. Buffy had to be there, smelling like everything that was wrong with the world, clearing his head and reminding him to be cautious. Right now, Angelus wasn't sure that caution had been the right choice. Right now, Angelus was thinking that it would have been better to let the fever take him and push him into an orgy of blood and pain.

He grinned to himself at the image of the clean white hospital corridor littered with corpses, Buffy and Xander's torn bodies right on top of the pile.

Of course, he thought, if I kill them then I won't have anything to hold over Willow. I suppose I'll just have to deal with her first. He licked his lips again. It'll be a pleasure.

A faint shuffling noise came from behind him.

Angelus turned quickly, half-expecting to see an angry Buffy or, better yet, a suicidal Xander. Instead, he saw nine of the younger vampires standing there silently, staring at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you gentlemen?" He said with mock civility, looking each of the men briefly in the eye. One by one they dropped their gaze before him, but didn't speak.

"Children," Angelus said warningly, a snarl in the words. "If you don't tell me why you dare disturb me within the next five sec-"

The eldest of the nine stepped forward, trembling. "I don't know, master." He said, not quite managing to meet Angelus' eyes. "We were all down in the basement but we smelled. we smelled."

"Prey." Another of the nine finished for him.

The eldest caught Angelus' sudden tension and hastily qualified his statement. "Not that we think that you're prey!" He said somewhat desperately. He'd been alive for a hundred years, but now he was stammering like a schoolboy.

Pathetic, Angelus thought, growling under his breath. This was a complication he hadn't considered. Since he hadn't managed to seize Willow, she was still out there, smelling like the best parts of heaven and hell. Other demons would want her too, want what was his. They would try to take her.

These whelps were all the proof he needed of that, Angelus thought grimly. Just the memory of her scent and here they were, bothering him. Under normal circumstances, they would drink holy water rather than risk his anger.

In some cases, they had.

The idea that another vampire would take Willow before he could was intolerable. That couldn't happen. Re-arranging his features into a pleasant smile, Angelus walked towards the nine younger vampires, who were all watching him nervously.

"Let me make this absolutely clear." Angelus said to them, his voice a dangerous purr. "The one whose scent you smell is mine. Mine alone. If you find her, you will bring her to me. If you touch her, you will die."

With every sentence he stepped closer to the young vampires, watching their expressions carefully. The emotions on their faces flickered between hunger, fear and defiance.

"If you defy me." Angelus said, and moved very quickly. Five busy seconds later, he looked at the younger vampires again and saw only fear. Satisfied that his point had been made, he stepped over the pile of dust and walked out of the room.

The younger vampires that were left behind exchanged relieved glances.

"Well," One said in a quiet voice. "I think that puts him in the lead."

"No!" Another disagreed quickly. "The Slayer killed two of ours last night. She's still ahead."

"Drusilla is thinking of putting on a play." Another one said in a miserable tone.

As one, the vampires shuddered.

"Her last 'play' killed twenty-one of us and sixty-four humans," The first vampire to have spoken said nostalgically. "I was an understudy."

"Thirty-four of us, actually." Another said. "You have to count the ones she used as scenery."

"Oh, yes. I'd forgotten."

"That would put her in the lead, if she kills the same amount this time."

They all thought about that for a moment.

"Do you think it's like this everywhere?" The youngest of them asked finally.

"How else could it be?"

"I don't know. I guess I just thought that immortality would be... longer."

"Well, you're still young. You'll learn."

"I hope I get the chance." The youngest traced the shape of a smiley face in the pile of dust that was all that remained of the eldest. "Does anyone know where we left the dustpan?"

A few minutes later, the mansion was once again silent. Waiting for the night, and the hunt, to begin.

***

Part Five

 Part Seven
***

Willow's hand passed through the barrier. And the world spun away.

The sensation of wind against her face and a sudden pain in her hand and
then the world had stopped spinning and Willow found herself outside on the
balcony. That, by itself, would have been a bad thing by definition. But
she couldn't see anything and she had a horrible feeling that the blackness
blotting out the outside world wasn't a sudden fog or an unscheduled
eclipse, but the front of Angelus' shirt.

Maybe I've gone blind, Willow thought hopefully. Her eyes refocused and she
noticed shiny black dots in the larger darkness and frowned. Except that
blindness didn't come with buttons.

She kept her eyes down; she couldn't stand the thought of looking up and
meeting those dark eyes in that pale face. She thought there would be
triumph there, and if there was, she thought she might kick him in the
shins. In the interests of surviving to see sunrise, she stared at his
shirt and attempted to evaluate the situation. She was outside. That was
bad.

Willow wiggled tentatively, but the motion was instantly stilled as the arms
around her tightened to force her close against him, eliminating the gap
between their bodies. Okay, now she couldn't move. *Very* bad.

Despite the fact that her face was now pressed to Angelus' chest and despite
the fact that breathing was becoming difficult, Willow refused to look up on
principle. What had gone wrong? She wondered despairingly. He'd been being
so nice and reasonable and - oh. That should have tipped her off.

One of his hands was moving now; Willow could feel it sliding up from the
middle of her back, leaving a trail of electricity wherever it touched.

"Willow." Angelus said softly.

Nu-uh, Willow thought. There's no one by that name here. Come back later.
Actually, don't!

She shivered as his caressing hand gently brushed the sensitive skin at the
back of her neck. And then it was tangled in her hair and nowhere near
gentle as Angelus forced her head up, pulling harder than necessary when she
attempted to resist. Ow, thought Willow. Ow, ow, ow.

Her head was up but her eyes were still cast down. She heard the sound of a
sigh and felt his cold breath ruffle her hair, although it might have been
the wind. She hoped it was the wind.

Angelus gave a final vicious yank to her hair and her eyes shot up to meet
his.

"Ow!" Willow said accusingly, glaring at him.

He smiled, a slow curling of his lips that made her wish she hadn't looked
up. It was good that he wasn't in Grr mode, she thought. But bad that he
was smiling. She was beginning to really hate his smiles. They always
made her think that he knew something she didn't, something she didn't
really *want* to know but he wasn't going to show her anyway. It made her
stomach twist.

"Why?" Willow said after a long pause, her voice trembling. It didn't make
sense. "Really, why? You don't want to belong to Bu-"

Angelus' smile disappeared and the hand tangled through Willow's hair
clenched, drawing an involuntary yelp of pain from her.

"I have no intention of ever *belonging* to the Slayer." Angelus said,
spitting out the words like a curse.

"But what about the spell?" Willow said, staring at him with confusion.
His hand twisted again and she gasped sharply and knew that her eyes were
filling up with tears and it was humiliating and pointless but it *hurt*.

It might have been just a coincidence but when the lines in Angelus' face
smoothed out and his horrible lovely smile came back Willow had the feeling
that it had nothing to do with what she'd said and everything to do with the
tears in her eyes and the pain in her voice. I hate you, she thought.

"Willow, all that spell does is stop me from killing you." Angelus said.
He dangled the book between them like a toy held in front of a cat, waving
it slowly back and forth and watching as Willow's eyes followed it.

I'm not going to die, Willow thought. That's good. That's about as good as
it gets at this point really, and better than I'd expected. Um. Why is he
laughing?

And then in another of those quick movements that made Willow's head spin,
Angelus had flipped them around so that she was pressed tightly between him
and the railing. He wants his hands free, Willow thought. Is he going to
strangle me? Is that not technically killing me? Is there a strangling
loophole?

If she survived this, she was buying a Latin language reader.

"So I can't kill you," Angelus said then in a tone dark with laughter. "I
can live with that." He ripped the spell book into two even pieces.

"*No*!" Willow screamed.

***

Angelus kept his eyes fixed on Willow's face, ignoring the frantic beating
of her hands against his chest, as he methodically tore the book into coin
size fragments. He thought that he could actually see her hope shatter
into tiny jagged pieces that ripped her apart from the inside out. The pain
in her eyes was beautiful.

And finally, when the book was just a handful of torn paper in his hands and
he knew that she'd never be able to put it back together again, Angelus
opened his hands gracefully and let the scraps of paper drift down around
them.

Most of the scraps were immediately whisked away by the breeze and
disappeared into the night, winking out like dying stars as they left the
circle of light. Some stayed, dancing around them and settling in Willow's
hair and on her pale tight face, which was staring out after the vanished
pieces as if she could call them back through sheer willw.

The scraps in Willow's hair were incongruously white against the dark red
and Angelus was suddenly struck by the thought that her hair was the color
of blood. Not fresh blood, no. Like the blood on healing wounds, he
thought, begging to be reopened.

And then he could feel the hunger, already inflamed by being so near to her,
stir inside of him like a wild animal at the thought of blood. Her blood,
he thought, and shivered.

Angelus fought for control, pushing down the urge to drain her dry and to
hell with the consequences and to hell with the Slayer. He was playing for
high stakes now, gambling on his own self-control. Which was ironic, he
thought dryly, since he'd spent a good two hundred years working on
demolishing his self-control through a rigorous regimen of sex, death and
all of the above, take as many as you want and call the funeral home in the
morning.

But if he lost . Angelus thought about living under the mastery of the
Slayer. Her first order would probably be for him to stake himself, if he
was lucky. If he was unlucky and the twit was smarter than he thought she
was, it could be something more along the lines of: 'Act like Angel for the
rest of your un-life.'

Angelus shuddered and the repulsive thought forced his hunger back just
enough to let him look at Willow again.

He was pleased to see that there were tears on her face. She was still
gazing at the scattered pieces in shock, her face as empty as a wax mask.
She looks cute when she cries, Angelus thought almost fondly. If only it
meant something to me.

Angelus wrapped his arms around her again and leaned in, moving closer until
they were eye to eye. When she still seemed oblivious, he gave in to
temptation and slowly licked a tear from her cheek. It tasted tangy and
hurt and *wonderful*, a pale salty echo of the taste of her blood. He
thought that he must have groaned because Willow was looking at him now,
fear in her eyes.

Willow's mouth moved as if she was attempting to form words, but nothing
came out.

Entertained by her efforts, Angelus watched her for a few moments before
regretfully deciding that, as diverting as is would be to see how long it
would take for her to manage coherent speech, they needed to get a few
things straight.

Angelus covered Willow's mouth with his hand to stop her futile attempts to
form words and his self-control was almost undone by the feel of her breath
on his palm.

"I imagine you'd like to know what happens next?" Angelus asked.

Willow nodded jerkily, almost dislodging his hand.

"Well..." Angelus said, letting the word trail off, a smile spreading
across his face.

"I've never been in this situation either." He said finally. "I suppose
that I'll just have to make up the rules as we go along."

There was a quick flash of anger in Willow's eyes and he knew that she hadn'
t missed either the paraphrasing or its meaning. Good. She should
understand that he was in control here.

"All you have to remember for the moment is that it's not up to you," he
said to drive the point home. "Don't fight me, defy me or seek help against
me..."

Willow shook her head, trying to get away from his hand. Removing his
impromptu gag, Angelus looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Remembered how to speak, have you?" He said.

Ignoring his sardonic comment, Willow asked, "And if I don't follow your
rules, then what? You'll kill me? Or have me killed by someone else?
Because I have to tell you, that's not really looking like the worst of my
options here!"

"Oh no," Angelus said with a sudden deadly softness. "I'll kill your
parents, your friends and your pets..." He moved his hand to her throat,
clasping it just above the hollow where her unsteady pulse was beating
strong and fast. "But not you, Willow. Never you. You, I'll discipline in
ways that will make you *beg* to die. "

There was terror in her eyes and he felt her heartbeat leap under his hand
and *now*, it had to be now, he couldn't wait.

And then his face was shifting back to its true form and Willow was opening
her mouth to scream and he put one hand over her mouth and roughly pulled
her head aside to bare her neck. And then she might have been screaming or
fainting or cursing him, he didn't know or care because he was drinking from
her again and it was like coming home.

He'd thought that he remembered it, the taste of it, the feel of it glowing
inside him like a sun, but his memories had been watercolor impressions
compared to the real thing and now the real thing was hot and thick and
perfect in his mouth and Willow was struggling in his arms and that was
perfect too and if he wasn't careful he would take too much.

But then, all too soon, Angelus felt Willow stop struggling and he forced
himself to pull away. He looked down at her and she looked dazed and
dreamy, but at least she was still managing to stay upright. She'd be fine,
he thought. A night's sleep and she'll be good as new. He licked his
lips. Better than new, even.

When Angelus let go, Willow's knees buckled. He caught her just before she
hit the ground, swinging her up into his arms. She was as light as a
feather and again he thought that maybe he'd taken too much. But no, her
eyelashes were fluttering on her cheeks. She was awake.

He carried her over to the open door and whispered, "Say: 'Come in,
Angelus.'"

Willow made a soft noise in her throat and turned her head away, burying her
face in his chest.

"Willow." Angelus said a little more firmly. "What choice do you have?"

"Mmph." Willow said cogently, and then sighed and said dreamily, "Come. In.
Angelus."

"Close enough." Angelus said, smiling at the top of her head. He walked
inside the room and carried Willow over to the bed, setting her down gently
lest she wake and start screaming again. He put blankets on top of her,
sitting down on the edge of her bed and watching as she burrowed sleepily
into the covers.

"When you wake up tomorrow, remember that your blood belongs to me." He
said in a low, menacing tone. "And so do you, Willow. Don't forget."

I hope she can still hear me, he thought, looking at her peaceful face. I
hate to waste a good implied threat.

Willow's brow suddenly furrowed into worried lines and she rolled onto her
other side, turning her back to him.

She heard me, Angelus thought, trying not to laugh.

He went out by the front door and left Willow to the safety of her dreams.

Chapter Eight

The shrill buzzing of her alarm was beginning to irritate Willow. It just
kept buzzing and buzzing no matter how many times she growled at it or swung
an arm vaguely in its direction. Buzz, buzz, buzz.

I don't want to get up, Willow thought dreamily. Bed was warm and cozy and
soft. Outside was nasty and icky and vampires and... *Angelus!*

Willow's eyes flew open.

Hesitantly, Willow raised her head to look and yes, sure enough, the balcony
doors were open and there was a pain in her neck that was in no way
metaphorical. It hadn't been a dream, she thought, which was disappointing
but not really surprising since her dreams tended to have fluffy things and
tests that she hadn't studied for but were generally light on the blood
sucking.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. And sat down again
rather more quickly. Oh, she thought dizzily. This feels almost as bad as
last time.

Managing to walk to the bathroom on her third try, Willow ran some cold
water in the sink and splashed her face with it in an attempt to clear her
head. She looked in the mirror and winced. In the harsh morning sunlight,
the new set of marks on her neck stood out like a tattoo.

Or graffiti, she thought: *Angelus was here.*

She turned away from the mirror and carefully picked her way back through
her room until she could collapse into her computer chair. Turning the
computer on by reflex, she put her elbows down on the desk and stared
blankly at the empty screen.

What was she supposed to do now? There had only been two possible scenarios
for what might happen when she told Angelus about the spell:

First, he could have let her do the spell and they could both have gone on
their merry way, her smiling and laughing and him torturing and killing, and
everything would have been back to normal.

Second, he could have killed her (quickly or not) and then she'd be dead and
he'd belong to Buffy for the rest of eternity or until he killed himself,
whichever came first.

Either way, Willow thought bitterly, not a whole lot more action required on
my part. This was so not in the plan!

"Willow?" Buffy said from behind her.

Willow felt every muscle in her body jump. Why had she given Buffy that set
of keys? The girl could move like a *cat*.

"Hi, Buffy," Willow said perkily, and was about to swivel to face her friend
but - (urk! The bite!)- so instead she gave Buffy a sideways smile through
her hair and looked back at her computer, pretending to check her e-mail.

"How are you feeling? Were you okay by yourself last night?" asked Buffy.

Oh yes, Willow thought, all except for that bit where the love of your life
came by and bit me and basically said that it wasn't the last time... Other
than that, fine. And you?

"Yep. It was fun," Willow said. "Just me, by myself. Doing all that stuff
that I do when I'm alone."

Buffy gave her a concerned look and said, "Are you sure that you're all
right?" She took hold of the back of the chair and turned it around until
Willow was facing her in what Willow couldn't help but feel was a gross
abuse of Slayer strength.

Willow smiled at her. Look at my teeth, she thought, not at my neck. Look,
teeth! Shiny!

Buffy put a hand on Willow's forehead and said, "You feel a little clammy.
Did you take your pills?"

Willow pounced on the excuse and said, "I knew I forgot something! I'll go
take them right now." She pushed past Buffy quickly and headed for the
bathroom, her neck bent at an impossible angle.

Willow closed the bathroom door firmly behind her. Looking in the mirror,
she grimaced. Buffy probably thought that she'd gone insane, which wasn't
really that far from the truth.

It took some fumbling around in her minimal supply of cosmetics, but Willow
finally came up with an almost empty tube of concealer. She touched the bite
experimentally and smothered a whimper. It was like there was a thin bright
wire running straight between the bite and the pain center of her brain, she
thought, like touching fire. Fascinating. And also, ow!

Despite the pain, Willow managed to cover up both bites by poking concealer
in their general direction and biting her lip a lot. Finally done, she
looked at herself critically in the mirror. Great, she thought, now it just
looks like I've had silly putty surgically attached to my neck.

After running the water for a few seconds to create the impression of pill
taking, Willow went back to her room and sat down beside Buffy on the bed.

"So..." said Willow, staring at her hands. There was an awkward silence
during which Willow realized that she couldn't think of anything to say
other than what she wasn't allowed to say.

Stupid Angelus, she thought bitterly. It wasn't like she didn't have enough
problems with social interactions *already*. This was just all kinds of bad.

"Do you think you're up for school today?" asked Buffy.

School? Willow thought. Library!

"I think so," she said slowly, "but I might have to come home at lunch."

Buffy said, "Well, I'm glad you're getting back to the Willow with pep I
know and love. If you've still got some of that pep left tonight, we're all
meeting up at the Bronze." She looked slyly at Willow and added, "Oz is
going to show."

Willow attempted to look girlishly embarrassed. Oz... she thought miserably.
I can't put him in danger. I'll have to break it off. Wait. I'm assuming
that there's nothing I can do about this. That's not a good thing! I don't
want Angelus breathing down my ne- bad analogy. Bad, bad analogy.

She became aware that Buffy was still speaking.

"...you thinking about?"

Blinking, Willow refocused on her friend. "Nothing."

A conspiratorial smile spread across Buffy's face. "Oh, you're so in
trouble. If just mentioning Oz's name makes you dreamy it may be time for
you to start picking out china patterns." She paused and looked pensive. "Do
they make china with guitars on it?"

"I wasn't thinking about Oz," Willow protested. Well, she thought, it's
almost true. I was only thinking about how to keep him alive. And me, too!

"Don't even try the innocent act with me, Wills," Buffy said, laughing.
"I've been there, remember? When you're staring off into the distance like
that? Definitely a guy thing."

Willow nearly choked. Oh yeah, she thought. It's a guy thing. An *evil* guy
thing.

Buffy glanced at her watch and hastily jumped to her feet. "Uh oh," she
said, "if we're going, we'd better go now. Throw some clothes on and we'll
head off. Though why you'd want to go to school..."

Dressing hurriedly, Willow listened with half an ear to Buffy's ongoing
monologue about her "...wasting a legitimate excuse to take a couple days
off, and..."

They got to school with minutes to spare, although Willow wasn't quite sure
how. All she remembered of the walk was a blur of light and colors and the
feeling of wind against her face and a hand clamped inexorably around her
wrist, dragging her forward.

Willow mentally resolved to leave earlier next time. It was either that or
buy herself a little red wagon that Buffy could pull along behind her. She
thought that Buffy might enjoy that, actually.

Classes dragged with mind deadening slowness, as Willow found that her
natural enthusiasm for learning was being severely tarnished by knowing that
she might be spending the rest of her life, however short, as a vampire's
chew toy. It wasn't helping that she had to keep it a secret.

She'd told Xander about being afraid of frogs and English teachers, she'd
told Buffy about being afraid of Xander-obliviousness and boys in general.
And now, she was probably going to die, which was very much scarier than any
of those things and she couldn't tell anyone.

She had to practically bite through her tongue to keep from crying when
Xander smiled at her. And when Oz came up to her at lunch... oh, it felt
like her heart was breaking. She tried to act distant, but all she could
think about was that she might never see him again.

Searching the library at lunch produced nothing useful either. She didn't
know what she'd been expecting, except maybe a spell marked, "Make Vampires
Stay Away From You and All of Your Friends Forever." If there was really a
spell like that, Willow thought sadly, the Watchers would have already used
it. On everybody.

Pleading sickness, Willow went home at lunch, desperate to get away from her
friends and their shiny happy smiles and even more desperate to get away
from Oz and the light in his eyes when he looked at her.

It felt strange to be alone in her room. Even with the sun shining she
thought that she could still feel him there. He was in the shadows, she
thought, or in the closet. Somewhere. It was an awful feeling.

It took her two hours and five silent arguments with herself before she
finally decided to invoke the un-invite spell.again. There was no point
making it too easy for him. Except that maybe if she made it easy he
wouldn't get angry and kill her. That was a point.

Willow's lips compressed into a thin line. She couldn't just let him come in
there and bite her without at least some kind of protest, that would be just
one slippery step away from greeting him with a bare neck, handing him a
straw and asking him how his day went.

Nu-uh, Willow thought. Not in this lifetime.

Once the barrier was back in place Willow felt slightly better, and was able
to research without looking under the bed every ten minutes or so, although
she still kept her feet tucked safely up under her to avoid any ironic
ankle-grabbing desk monsters.

She plunged into the Net, looking for another copy of the spell or some
other form of help and sending email after email to the Wiccan who had
originally mentioned the spell to her.

Nothing. No spell, no help, no new email. Not only was she doomed, but she
was also unpopular. That was just peachy.

Finally, Willow noticed that she was spending more time glancing nervously
out the window then she was looking at the computer screen. She gave up and
turned off her monitor, rubbing her temples absently in a vain attempt to
fend off the headache she could feel building.

This is getting me nowhere, she thought, I feel like I'm just killing ti -
more bad analogies! I really need to stop doing that.

She looked apprehensively at the window. He was out there, somewhere. And
the sun was setting. And the barrier was up and oh, he was going to be angry
with her. Willow shivered. The words, 'come in, Angelus' hovered on the tip
of her tongue. Maybe if she invited him in before he arrived he wouldn't
kill her. Maybe he wouldn't even be angry.

Maybe she could hide in the basement until dawn. and spend the night
wondering which of her friends he'd kill while she was hiding there. That
would be the opposite of fun, kind of like a twisted version of Clue where
she tried to guess the victim instead of the murderer because there was no
doubt who *that* was.

Angelus in the Library with a Butcher Knife, she thought. Angelus in Buffy's
House with a Noose. Angelus on the Streets of Sunnydale with those Strong,
Strong Hands.

She had to breathe. Breathing was important.

Willow stood up and stretched. It felt good to be moving, not waiting, and
she felt something *click* in her head.

A second later, Willow was looking through her closet and picking out a
simple flannel shirt and jeans. She put them on and checked the mirror. Bite
marks covered, she thought. No exposed neck at all. Fashion sense? Not
really an issue.

She left the house without looking behind her, shutting the front door with
a resolute slam and marching off down the sidewalk with stiff shoulders and
a straight back. She thought that she must look just like a soldier going
off to war. Except for the wobbling.

Even so, she was brave. She was determined. She was going to the Bronze and
having fun with her friends even if it killed her.

Which it almost certainly would, she thought, and paused.

And started walking again, her shoulders even stiffer and her back so
straight that it could have been used as a ruler. She was brave. She was
determined. And darn it, she was *going* to the Bronze!

Part Nine

Willow looked around the Bronze. The music was loud, the place was
crowded and coming there had been a very bad idea.

Someone brushed against the back of her chair and Willow nearly broke
her neck turning around to see who it was. It turned out to be
someone with blond hair, a deep tan and his arm around a woman and a
beer respectively. Even so, Willow watched him until he had
disappeared into the crowd.

Coming there had been a very, very bad idea, Willow thought again,
turning back to the table she was sharing with Xander. It had a good
view of the bar and an even better view of Buffy moving on the dance
floor, which went a long way to explaining why Xander hadn't noticed
Willow's jumpiness.

It was lucky that he was so distracted, Willow thought, very lucky.
So very lucky. She nudged her water glass with her fingers and was
vaguely disappointed when it didn't fall over and crush Xander's
fingers.

In retrospect, it was astonishingly clear that Willow should have
gone somewhere else. Somewhere without people and noise and the
constant unwanted physical touching. Somewhere with locks on the
doors and bars on the windows.

Willow frowned. Actually, she thought, there are bars on the windows.
I wonder why?

Okay, not the point, she thought sternly. The point was that vampires
could come in, at least if they had a valid form of ID and paid the
cover charge.

She wondered if they really did pay the cover charge. It seemed
slightly off kilter, the idea of the bloodthirsty undead walking up
to the bouncer with five dollars and waiting to get their hands
stamped with a picture of a happy dolphin.

Still, vampires probably have to pay for some things just like
everyone else. They can't kill the salespeople and burn down the
stores everywhere they shop. They must have favorite brands, discount
cards, all that sort of thing. After all, stuff wears out. And then
you need to buy new stuff. And vampires live forever, so they must
need to replace things all the time...

Willow decided to stop that train of thought right there, before she
really got into trying to figure out how much shopping someone would
have to do to last for all eternity. They would need a really big
cart - no! Lack of focus wasn't good. She should leave. Find
someplace with locks and doors. Or just go find Angelus herself and
save him the trouble of tracking her down.

"Willow," someone said close by her ear. The voice was male. The tone
was neutral.

Willow's shoulders slumped and she swiveled on her chair to face Oz,
a bright smile on her face.

"Oz!" she said. "Hey! "

Wait, she thought, I might have to break up with him. Should I sound
that happy?

"I mean. hey," she said again, trying to sound unenthusiastic.

Oz looked at her quizzically. Or possibly furiously. It was kind of
hard to tell with Oz.

But whatever Oz was, he wasn't turning and walking away from her.
Darn it, Willow thought when he smiled at her and slid into the seat
beside her. Where were her boy-repulsing skills when she really
needed them?

"Hey," Oz said to Xander.

"Hey," Xander said, and waved at him.

Even though Buffy was halfway across the room, Willow could spot the
exact moment when Buffy noticed that Oz had appeared. Her eyebrows
went up. Her mouth spread into a smile. She looked at Oz. She looked
at Xander. She looked at Willow - and winked.

Oh no, Willow thought. Keep dancing, Buffy. Don't come over here.
Your top is falling off, but that's okay. Keep dancing. Please,
please don't come over here.

"Xander!" Buffy said. "Come dance with me!" She smiled brightly at
Xander and Willow could see that smile reflected in his eyes. The
poor boy never stood a chance.

Willow was left alone with Oz.

Under normal circumstances, she'd be balancing on the edge between
happy and nervous. Now, even though it still made her happy to see
him, the nervousness was gone. Well, at least the kissing-nervous.
The "I can't see you anymore 'cause you might die"-nervous was still
going strong.

"When are the Dingoes going to play here again?" Willow said after a
long silence.

"We're not sure," Oz said, pausing, giving thought to it. "Devon's
involved in a thing at school."

"What?" How could she break up with him?

"He kind of didn't go for a few months. "

"Oh. That's not a good thing." Look at him...

Oz leaned a little bit in towards her and lowered his tone to a
confidential whisper. "It shows he has priorities. Girls, the band,
TV and then school." He sat back and nodded gravely. "I admire a man
with convictions. "

Willow had to grin, she couldn't help it, it wasn't her fault.

A half smile spread across Oz's face in response, slow and unexpected
and entirely too nice to look at. Willow looked at Oz's smile and
forgot that she was going to tell him to go away.

*****

Angelus was on Willow's balcony. And then he was turning the door
handle. And then he was walking inside the room, except that he
wasn't. The barrier was back up.

Angelus stood where the barrier had stopped him, frozen in the
doorway, his eyes fixed on the dark room, his face a blank and empty
mask.

The smile that came onto his face was a bleak and terrible thing.

Her scent was gone, Angelus thought absently. She wasn't in the
house. Gone entirely then, and for a moment he thought that she could
be on a bus somewhere, hurtling towards the horizon. His hands were
curled into fists and he could taste blood on his lip.

His blood, he thought. Not hers.

The vision of Willow on the bus dissolved into nothing because she
wouldn't do that, she wouldn't leave her friends. She was out there
somewhere, out from behind the protective barrier and waiting for him
to come find her. It was a game, his game, his favorite game, and she
was trying to change the rules.

He wasn't sure whether to be angry or amused.

The first stirrings of a sharper hunger helped him make up his mind.
Willow was defying him, and right at the beginning, too. She should
be too frightened to breathe right now, too frightened to think of
anything besides the night and the pain. He'd been too lenient. His
mistake. Too bad for her.

Sunnydale was a much larger place when you were looking for someone.
With every minute that passed, with every flash of red hair that was
not her red hair, Angelus felt his anger grow. He'd wanted to taste
her first that night, see how the sharp edge of daytime starvation
added to the taste of her blood. Like the cherry on a sundae, he
thought. Or salt on a burn.

He reached out and grabbed a woman by her not-quite-red-enough hair,
pulling her face towards him for just a second before he let go. It
wasn't Willow. The woman fell to her knees in the street, gathering
breath to scream. Angelus walked past her without looking back.

He heard the first scream behind him a second before he turned the
corner into the alley. A second later he heard running feet coming up
fast behind him, and he smiled and turned around.

The man who came running around the corner was wearing colorful
sneakers and a baseball hat. He nearly ran into Angelus before he
stopped short, eyes wide.

"It's always the young ones," Angelus said, the words distorted by
fangs and tongue and hunger.

"What-" The young man said, and took a step backwards.

"First rule in the book," Angelus said. "Mind your own business."

It only took one long step forwards for him to be within range, close
enough to grab the boy by the throat, close enough to slam his head
hard against the wall. The boy slumped like a puppet whose strings
had been cut and Angelus bent over him, his coat falling over the
boys face.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't her.

Angelus left the body in the alley when he'd finished with it, the
colorful sneakers dark in the shadow, the baseball hat crumpled on
the ground. Angelus felt perversely angry with the dead boy for not
being Willow, angry with Willow for not being the dead boy. She'd
ruined his plans, forced him to feed on someone else rather than risk
draining her entirely. He'd done it to save her. He wondered if she'd
be grateful.

Angelus entered the Bronze and was buffeted by noise and heat and
smell, Willow's smell, like a splash of color in a black and white
photograph. And another scent too, like the smell of a world on fire.
Angelus' eyes narrowed. Buffy was there too. That complicated things.

It wasn't difficult to find either of them.

The humans in the club were probably aware of it to some degree. They
would feel a prickling heat on the back of their necks, a cold sick
feeling in their stomachs, a need to hold the hand of the person next
to them and press head to chest when dancing to hear the beating
heart. All subtle signs, bodies trying to warn their owners to
beware, there were *things* around. Many things. Not safe. Not normal.

Even Buffy should be able to pick out the vampires in the crowd
tonight, Angelus thought. All she'd need was a dart and a blindfold.

Of course, there were other ways of identifying them. Looking at the
crowd was like looking at an abstract painting, blobs of color and
random faces and then suddenly a revelation, a resolution into
meaning. Because there were so many people in the crowd that weren't
talking or laughing or dancing. And they were all carefully not
looking at the same thing. Their faces were tight with the effort of
not looking at it.

Willow. Sitting at a table with the new boy, laughing at something.

Angelus didn't think she knew that she was surrounded by vampires,
all of whom were completely focused on the sight of her and the smell
of her and the thought of her blood. If she knew, she wouldn't be
laughing. She'd be screaming.

It wasn't hard to locate Buffy, either. The undead population of the
club was clustered in a semi-circle around Willow, but no one was
near the dance floor.

Angelus growled sub-vocally to attract the attention of the vampires.
He watched as one by one they reluctantly turned from Willow. He
watched their eyes widen when they saw him standing there. There was
a subtle widening of the circle around her, vampires taking a few
steps back to symbolize their acceptance of his claim. He took one of
the eldest aside and muttered a few terse instructions before he
stepped back into the deep shadows by the door.

A few minutes later, ten vampires walked by the dance floor. Each one
held a terrified girl by the wrist, dragging them along behind their
captors as they pushed their way through the crowd to the exit.

Angelus watched as Buffy and Xander stopped dancing and rushed to
Willow's table. Willow and the new guy stood up and followed Buffy
and Xander as they led the way through the crowd. Buffy went outside,
followed by Xander, trailed by Oz and -

The crowd in front of Willow was suddenly a solid wall of people. She
was dodging from side to side, muttering things like, "Excuse me,"
and "Could you?" to the throng. They took no notice of her, talking
to each other with blank smiling faces and twitching hands. She was
becoming angry and afraid. She smelled like blood and sex and death.

She was too far away.

And then Angelus' hands were on her shoulders and he was spinning her
around to face him, his fingers digging into the flesh of her arms
and surprising a soft gasp from her. Willow's eyes were wide and
frightened as she looked up into his face and it was almost enough to
make him forgive her, but not quite.

He smiled at her, gripping her tighter just to see her wince and he
pushed her backwards, forcing her to walk backwards as he pushed her
towards the edge of the room.

"We need to talk," he said to Willow, and watched the fear bloom in
her eyes.

As they approached the wall, one of the dancers reached out and
casually opened a door, letting it swing open onto a black empty
rectangle of space. Angelus released Willow's arms and pushed her
hard, open palmed and vicious, and she made a small hurt shocked
sound and fell into the room and onto the floor.

Angelus stepped in after her and closed the door.

Part Ten

Willow's mind was racing but her body was falling and the door was already
closing behind her, behind them, closing on all the light and the noise and
the people so that by the time she hit the floor she couldn't see what she'd
hit, couldn't see anything in fact, and the sound of her own breathing
seemed was loud in the sudden silence.

Angelus' hands on her shoulders, Angelus' voice, Angelus' eyes.

He'd looked very angry, Willow thought, right before he'd shoved her into
silence and shut the door on the rest of the world. And now he was in
there with her, somewhere, and she kept thinking that her eyes were going to
adjust. Except that they didn't, because there was no light at all, not
even enough to be afraid by, and he wasn't doing anything or saying anything
or attacking her and it was driving her crazy.

After a few more hideous seconds of waiting, Willow finally looked up.
Maybe he wanted to see the fear in her eyes. Fine. No problem there. Fear
o'plenty. Fear by the bucketful and she tried to put all of it in her eyes
as she stared at the place in the absolute darkness where she'd last seen
Angelus.

Of course, he could have moved. He could be anywhere. No, Willow thought, I'
d have heard him move. Wouldn't I? I hope I would...

To ward off the disturbing potential of Angelus-lurkage she stared fixedly
ahead, trying very hard to believe that she could see him. Over there. Away
from her.

Getting up from the softly carpeted floor was an option, but not really a
good one. Moving around would increase the amount of places where she knew
Angelus was not, and thus would in effect find him, like some kind of
twisted backwards version of hide and go seek. She didn't want to find
him. She didn't want him to find her, either. She wanted a time machine so
she could go back a week and help Buffy by buying her a puppy. Or shoes.
Or that blue top she wanted...

What might have been an alarmingly long shopping list of regrets came to an
abrupt end when Willow realized that something that felt alarmingly like a
shoe was prodding her in the ribs. Hard.

Willow smothered a small frightened noise and squirmed away from the thing
that was not a shoe, definitely not a shoe, and her back made contact with
something that felt like, but obviously couldn't be, a leg.

Her mind kept ticking against her will, remorselessly adding up that a leg
on one side of her plus a shoe on the other side equaled...

In what she would later acknowledge to be a very bad move, Willow rolled
onto her back and peered up into the darkness above her, struggling to
discern a face.

It could be someone else, she thought. It could be Buffy. It must be
Buffy. She noticed that I was missing and came in and silently managed to
get in this room and is playing mind games with me...

Yeah, Willow thought. It's not Buffy.

And then she wasn't thinking anything because there was a sudden weight on
top of her, heavier than anything, colder than Xander's hands and it was
crushing the air out of her and Angelus' face was suddenly inches away from
her own, a pale blurred oval with unreadable eyes and a dark smiling slash
for a mouth.

Not a good thing, Willow thought. Not good at all!

Angelus raised himself up on his elbows and Willow could breathe again,
although maybe not, because he took her head in his hands and his fingers
were buried deep in her hair, shivery and cold against her scalp and somehow
more intimate than the press of his legs against hers because that was
force, that was hate, and this was different and new and like something Oz
might do someday or Xander, maybe, someday, but not Angelus.

Willow's chest was getting tight, she had to breathe and when she took a
breath she saw with alarm that Angelus' eyes followed the movement of her
chest. Up and down and up and down and...

Shouldn't he be looking at her throat? Not that she *wanted* him to look at
her - never mind.

Angelus trailed a finger down Willow's cheek and she just hoped that she
wasn't blushing, that would be embarrassing and also somehow inappropriate,
under the circumstances.

"Willow," Angelus said in a slow voice.

Eep, Willow thought. No, wait! He said we needed to talk. Talk!

"You said we need to talk?" Willow said hopefully, trying to sound confident
and unconcerned, like she wasn't trapped under a heavy vampire in a dark
room.

Angelus' smile confirmed Willow's suspicion that she hadn't quite managed to
pull off confident and unconcerned. Maybe next time she should go for
confident and terrified.

"Did you know," Angelus said conversationally, his hand moving again,
tracing the line of her lips, running lower to skim her collarbone. "That
when you're afraid," His fingers dipped under the neckline of Willow's
sweater, and her stomach dropped to her knees and he looked at her almost
fondly and said, "the scent of your blood changes."

Eep, Willow thought again. That's not going to do me any good at all.

"What do we need to talk about?" Willow tried again. Please say the
weather, she thought.

Angelus' smile disappeared. "Do you know what I found when I went to visit
you this evening?"

That has to be a rhetorical question, Willow thought.

Angelus' lips tightened over suddenly pointed teeth. He moved on top of her
in a way that was wholly disturbing, settling her more firmly against him.

"What. Did. I. Find," Angelus said, his fingers curling in her hair and digg
ing into her scalp.

"A..protection spell.." Willow said, trying to keep perfectly still as
movement brought pain, and also more body-to-body friction than she was used
to.

Angelus' grip gentled slightly, and his game face vanished.

"Yes," Angelus said, his voice returning to its normal silky purr. "A
protection spell, clever little witch. And you. Gone."

Willow felt a vague impulse to apologize, but fought it down. I don't belong
to him, she thought fiercely. Not now. Not ever!

Angelus' eyes narrowed. "You're lucky tonight," he said, "I'm not going to
punish you. Say thank you."

"Thank you, Angelus," Willow said after a pause, because really, if all she
had to do was say thank you, that was good. She'd send him a thank you
muffin basket if he wanted one.

"Don't thank me yet," Angelus said, and Willow opened her mouth and closed
it again. "You didn't break any *specific* rules," he continued lightly.
"I blame myself, really."

It was strange, the contrast between his voice and his actions and his eyes,
Willow thought. Because his tone was so casual, like they really were
discussing the weather, but he was arching backwards now and pulling her up
with him, not even letting her put a breath of air between them, and she
couldn't really see his eyes but she thought that they'd be furious.

Angelus pulled her close until her head was forced against his chest,
smothering her again. His voice was cold as he whispered in her ear,
"Every pet needs guidelines, or they'll just run wild. Can't blame you for
that. But if you know the rules and break them, it's a whole different
ballgame. One that I'd enjoy teaching you... and your friends."

Willow swallowed. It was so dark. And he was so close. And there were
about ten million things about torture and pain that he knew and she didn't.

"What are the rules?" Willow asked.

It's just like in school, she thought. Like a course outline. What books
to read, what essay format to use, threats about plagiarism. That's all. I
can do this. I'm good at following the rules.

"If you want to leave the house after sunset, you *ask* the night before,"
Angelus said.

Willow grimaced, but nodded. At least he wasn't telling her never to leave
the house.

"Never revoke my invitation again," Angelus said. "Tell no one of your
new... situation."

Yeah, Willow thought. I'm clear on those ones. Really, really clear. She
nodded.

Angelus pulled her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"That's it for the moment. But you belong to me, Willow. If you don't accept
that people will die, and you will suffer. That you have even part of your
normal life remaining is entirely because that's how I want it to be. For
now."

Willow had to fight back the words that jumped to her lips. She didn't
belong to him. Also, she didn't want to hear him say her name like that
ever again. She didn't say anything.

"Fight me if you have to," Angelus said after a moment, watching her. "I'll
enjoy teaching you to behave."

I don't like the way he said that, Willow thought. I *believe* him, but I
don't like it. Unconsciousness is starting to look really good right about
now.

Might as well get the next bit over with, she decided reluctantly. More
talking could only lead to trouble.

She tiled her head to one side and offered him her neck. She could feel his
muscles tighten as he realized what she was doing.

Soft lips grazed the bared line of her neck and Willow jerked away in
surprise, her eyes flying up to meet his.

The shadow of a smile was on Angelus' lips. "Why, Willow," he said and yes,
that was exactly how she hadn't wanted him to say her name again, "are you
offering yourself to me?"

Willow nodded, puzzled. It wasn't like she had a choice, she thought.

And then Angelus' mouth was pressed tight to hers, crushing her lips against
her teeth and forcing her mouth to open under his. It only lasted for a
second, a confused second of pain and panic, and then Angelus was pulling
away, eyes still open and staring at her. There was darkness in his eyes,
satisfaction too, Willow thought, and it must be a skewed mirror image of
the stunned comprehension in hers.

"I accept," Angelus said.

Part Eleven

"I accept," Angelus said.

Willow stared at him. A sick feeling was starting to twist in the place
where her stomach had been just before it dropped through the floor.
Because it didn't sound like he was joking, and there were very few good
ways to 'offer' yourself to a vampire and god, she'd thought that being
bitten would be the low point of her day.

Willow opened her mouth to say that whatever he was thinking, that wasn't
what she'd meant, but Angelus' smile was a grayed slash in the darkness and
Willow closed her mouth again because he wouldn't care what she'd meant. Oh
god, she thought again. Her heart was beating hard and fast.

"So quiet?" Angelus said, sounding disappointed. "It's not like you to
just give in. I expected you to argue... fight me..."

His hand settled at the base of her neck, fingers spreading across her skin
and Willow knew that if she looked down, she'd see that his hand went almost
from shoulder to shoulder, he had such large hands. And then she felt
something else, a cool touch where there should be fabric and knew that his
hand was under her top, knew it logically and wanted to scream.

He was trying to scare her, Willow knew that, just trying to get a reaction
out of her and no, oh no, his hand was still moving, nonono, this wasn't
supposed to happen this way.

And then she was fighting him, she didn't remember starting to fight him but
she was fighting him as hard as she could, squirming under his weight and
kicking out with her feet, pushing with her hands, trying desperately to put
space between them, as much space as possible, two feet of space would be
okay, two miles would be even better, two hundred miles would be barely
enough but she couldn't even get two inches, his hands were pinning her arms
behind her back and his legs were heavy and painful on top of hers.

And he was laughing at her, Willow could tell this was just as funny as
anything to him, which was almost worse than anything else he could do to
her and made her wish that she could hurt him, just a little, even if he
killed her for it.

From somewhere inside the electric buzz filling her mind, Willow heard
Angelus chuckle deep and low in his throat and suddenly realized that he was
enjoying this way too much, that it was, in fact, making him the exact
opposite of angry. She froze.

Predatory, Willow thought. Vampires are predators. Anything that struggles
is prey. I don't *want* to be prey! I want to be home, safe! With ice cream!

When Willow dared to look up, Angelus was watching her, looking not at all
like ice cream. His lips twitched with what might have been humor or rage
or lust or hunger, Willow had no idea, although she thought that the fact
that he was pulling her closer again was probably some sort of clue.

"Do you know that you mumble?" Angelus said curiously, settling her back
against his chest firmly.

Okay, Willow thought, that's not what I expected him to say. But
considering the alternatives, this is good. Wait. mumbling?

"I do not!" Willow protested without thinking. Because hey, she thought a
second later, why not argue with him? Why would she want the bloodthirsty
fiend holding her life in his hands to be in a *good* mood? Idiot.

To her relief, Angelus seemed amused rather than angered by her denial.
"Yes, you do," he said, "but most people can't hear it."

"O-kay," Willow said doubtfully.

Do not, she thought.

Angelus looked like he was trying not to laugh, which was unnerving, but
then he didn't look like he wanted to laugh at all, and that was even more
unnerving.

And then his mouth was on her neck again, so fast and frightening and soft
and there was still no pain or blood but just slow sweet kisses pressed
against her skin, painful in a different way, and he still wasn't biting her
and what kind of prey did he think she was, anyway?

"Your analogy has a few flaws," Angelus murmured against her skin.

My... what? Willow thought. It was hard to think, harder still to hold
her body rigid and pretend that his mouth wasn't there, wasn't shocking and
wet and like the time she'd tried to take the toaster apart using a fork
while it was still plugged in. "A..analogy?" she said dazedly, because she
had to respond, had to show that this wasn't affecting her at all.

And then there was something like an earthquake and Willow was suddenly flat
on her back, staring directly up into Angelus' eyes.

"You are not, as you put it, my *prey*," Angelus said slowly, and Willow's
heart skipped a beat.

I mumble, she thought wildly. And he can hear me! Stop it, me! Wait, am I
doing it now?

"Yes," Angelus said, "and you are *mine*. I don't have to chase you, hunt
you or catch you." His voice seemed to be on a downward slope, sliding down
into growling territory, getting deep and rough now, and he punctuated each
word with a slight shake that flung Willow's head back and left her dizzy
and blurred.

"On the other hand..." Angelus continued, and the sudden shift from molten
anger to pure sensuality made her skin crawl with... relief? Fear? Willow
couldn't tell any more. Crawling was her skin's natural condition at this
point.

"If I *want* to chase you..." Angelus said, and one of his hands slipped to
the small of her back. "If I *choose* to hunt you..." And he leaned his
weight into her, slowly forcing her to the carpet. His next words were
breathed an inch from her mouth, the cool air tingling against her lips. " I
'll always catch you, Willow. Again, and again and again..."

Willow's thoughts were a tangled mass of panic and hatred and the softness
of the carpet against her back and the stifling darkness that surrounded her
and the hardness of Angelus' body pressed against her own and the fear that
she wasn't going to get out of there alive. A thousand confused things all
pressed into a tight little ball in the center of her chest and a frantic
waiting for what was going to happen next.

And then it was happening, no more waiting, Angelus' mouth pressed tight to
hers, hard and hurting like he didn't care if she could breathe or not, and
no more air in her lungs. Willow gasped, suddenly afraid, more afraid of
this than of anything, but closing her lips against him didn't work and then
there were ridges pressing against her forehead and fangs biting at her lips
and the pain of that and the fear when he licked away the blood and hoping
that he'll get distracted and just bite her already, please, please, but his
mouth was already back on hers and there was no denying it, he was kissing
her.

Kissing her again, she should say, and this time he was smart enough to
force her lips to open, so strange when that happened, she's not quite sure
how it happened, but there it was and Angelus was holding her head tight in
an iron grip while his smooth cool tongue was in her mouth now, her mouth,
Willow's mouth, and it was getting very difficult to pretend that it wasn't
happening. It was so different from Oz, different from Dream Xander too,
and knowing it was *Angelus*, evil Angelus, evil murder-torturer-Buffy's
boyfriend Angelus, was really freaking out her mind but her body didn't seem
to get the concept.

It was something like an itch, Willow thought clinically as her hips started
to move on their own, just a little, rocking just a little, and then her
hand was in his hair and she wasn't quite sure how it'd got there.

Willow could feel it when Angelus smiled against her mouth, and she was just
about to respond by pulling away when he beat her to it, his mouth suddenly
gone, and the smile that she'd felt very much in evidence as she looked up
at him through half-closed eyes.

He was surprisingly gentle when he tilted her head to the side, a good
thing, she thought, because her body felt like it had melted, or maybe
evaporated entirely. And then the next thing was the sharp pain in her neck
and Angelus' body trembling against hers. She didn't struggle. It was
almost a relief, after all. It meant that it was over.

Willow was almost used to it now, the black drowning feeling when the blood
was going out and the world was closing in, the pain at first unbearable and
then just a dull localized ache. And then should come the unconsciousness,
but Angelus was pulling away and Willow was still conscious, though dizzy.

Which was good, Willow supposed, but it would have been so much simpler if
she'd been unconscious.

Angelus got to his feet quicker than she could see, no longer a weight on
Willow's chest but a tall figure standing over her. And damn it, Willow
thought hazily, she still wasn't unconscious, although she almost made it
when Angelus reached down and dragged her up so fast that her head seemed to
turn inside out. But no, still no fainting, because that was just the way
her luck was running tonight.

Willow swayed, couldn't get her feet to work right, and would have fallen if
Angelus hadn't been holding her wrists so tightly. He wasn't looking at her
though, he was staring past her into the darkness around them and his eyes
were yellow and shining. Willow twisted slightly in his grip and looked
around nervously, trying to see what had alarmed him.

"Lights," Angelus said, and the darkness burned away into light.

Willow blinked and blinked again and finally had to close her eyes for a few
seconds against the brightness. When she opened them again, she could see.
And she really, really wished she couldn't.

Because there they were. Standing along the walls, draped over couches,
crouched no more than a few feet from where she stood. Vampires.

Her eyes skipped from one to the other as though she could make them
disappear and it was even worse than she'd thought, because they were all
staring at her, watching *her*, not Angelus, and the one crouched on the
floor was so close that she could have reached out and touched him, ruffled
his soft brown hair, but she thought that he'd probably bite her hand if she
tried.

Wait, Willow thought. She'd lost a lot of blood and she could still taste
Angelus' mouth on hers, but wait.

How long had they been there?

Had they been there when Angelus was laying down the rules?

Had they been there when she tried to get away?

Had they been there when he. when she. well, they must have been, right?
And so they'd seen everything. Heard the little noises that she hoped she
hadn't made. Oh no, no, no, this was humiliation on a whole new level,
this was Cordelia times ten times her entire high school career up until the
day Buffy sat down beside her.

And it was horrible because they were still watching her, so many pairs of
golden eyes watching the blood rush to her face.

Angelus growled low in his throat and said, "She's *mine*, proven and
witnessed. Anyone here want to argue it?" His burning eyes sought out each
vampire in turn. "Don't be shy."

One by one, the vampires shook their heads. One by one, with palpable
regret, they said, "Yours."

When the door slammed behind them, Willow turned to face Angelus. He was
leaning against the door back to the Bronze, an expectant look on his face.
She took a step towards him and he shook his head, smiling at her.

Willow lowered her head to hide her eyes.

"I'm yours," she said to his feet, and thought about killing him.

Part Twelve

Willow lowered her head to hide her eyes from Angelus.

"I'm yours," she said to the floor, and thought about killing him.

Willow was shaking, couldn't seem to help it, and there was a sick shamed
feeling in her stomach. She wasn't supposed to have to admit that he had
power over her; she knew that. She was supposed to tilt her head up proudly
and say something clever and wait for Buffy to come in and save her.

But Buffy wasn't coming, and wouldn't kill Angelus even if she did, and
Willow was afraid.

It was humiliating.

But now she was thinking, as she stared at the floor, that maybe this was
worse than fear, because saying it out loud made it all seem so much more
real, so much more permanent. Like something that could be forever.

Still, she thought, trying to cheer herself up, it could have been worse.
There could have been other people here to hear me say that, like there
was - memory flash of vampires watching her, in the dark, with Angelus'
hands on her and her hands in his hair - yeah, she was going to stop
thinking about that right now.

A pair of black shoes entered Willow's field of vision, and then a hand had
hold of her chin, the feel of skin on skin an unpleasant shock, and he was
forcing her head up, fingers grinding against her jawbone when she tried to
pull away. Stubbornly, she lowered her eyelids as he raised her head and
kept her eyes on the floor.

And of course, because nothing worked against him, this left her with her
face held firmly in her hands and the feel of his eyes on her face somehow
so much more frightening because she couldn't see him, her downcast eyes
making her feel somehow vulnerable. Submissive, she thought.

Angelus' chuckle broke the muffled silence in the room. "Hardly," he said.

Damn, damn, *damn*, Willow though. The mumbling. She was still doing it.
Unless.

"Hardly yours?" Willow said hopefully, darting a quick glance up at him. She
got a brief impression of amusement sliding into anger before she looked
away. He tightened his grip on her face, fingers digging painfully into her
skin.

"It's a little late to be coy," Angelus said, and he sounded so friendly and
he was *hurting her*.

Willow opened her mouth to speak and choked on a sudden gasp of pain, a
small hurt sound that brought the smile back to Angelus' face.

"You know that you're mine, pretty girl," Angelus continued calmly. "Don't
you."

Nod, nod, nod went Willow's head and she kept nodding, because Angelus'
hands wouldn't let her stop. She could barely see his face, her world was
blurring, and she didn't remember bringing her hands up but they were there,
trying uselessly to pull his hands away.

"Mine," Angelus said, and Willow's head nodded emphatically. "And now
every important vampire in Sunnydale knows it."

That was a different kind of pain, that memory a sharp twist in Willow's
chest, and she tried to stop her head from nodding but couldn't.

Angelus stopped it for her, abruptly back in focus, abruptly closer as he
dragged her forward until her chin was almost on his chest. "You *should*
be thanking me," he said in a put-upon tone.

You *must* be kidding, Willow thought.

Angelus released her face, one short second of freedom, not enough time to
run, before his hand had resettled in her hair, twisting a handful of it to
force her face to stay tilted up to his. It was an awkward angle, and
Willow was going to have a major crick in her neck in a few minutes, but at
least she could talk again. She could talk her way out of this.

"Are you kidding?" she said incredulously, unable to stop herself. "I
should thank you? For what?"

Humiliating me, drinking my blood... Oh yeah, she thought. Thanks muchly.
There's a reason that Hallmark doesn't make cards for this kind of thing,
you know.

Angelus' mouth twitched.

Damn it, Willow thought.

"You know," Angelus said reflectively, "there's a fine line between
innocence and stupidity. Which side of the line are *you* on, Willow?"

Willow narrowed her eyes. She didn't like where this was going.

"Let's think about this, shall we?" Angelus said, and his voice was as
condescending as Cordelia on her best day. "Where did all those vampires out
there come from, do you think?"
"I-" Willow said, and stopped.

Angelus' smile was an unpleasant shock. "Good girl," he said softly, "A-
for effort. All the vampires that were in *here* were out *there* before I
got here. All for you, darling. All wanting to take you, *waiting* to take
you. Doesn't that make you feel special?"

Willow wanted to die. They had been out there, watching her? She was
trying to remember what she'd been doing. Had they seen her looking at
Xander? At Oz? Had they - oh no, had they seen her trying to dance?

And none of that mattered, because they wouldn't have cared about any of
that, they would have killed her without even bothering to ask if she hand
any kind of spell on her and yes, the laugh would have been on them, but she
wouldn't really have been in any position to enjoy it.

Stupid. He was right. She was stupid.

" If I hadn't come to find you, to protect you, Willow, you would have
died," Angelus continued remorselessly. His voice gentled, and he added,
"Isn't it better to be mine?"

Stupid, Willow thought. How could she - what had she been - stupid, oh,
what was wrong with her? She only dimly realized that she was trembling.

She could see what almost had happened, every grisly way she could have
died, almost feel the pain at throat and wrists and hear herself begging,
and when arms enfolded her she let them pull her close and she buried her
face in his shirt.

"It's all right now," Angelus said from somewhere above her, and Willow was
holding on to him now, her arms wrapping around his back as she pushed her
face hard against his chest, mumbling incoherent angry words into the cloth.

Stupid, she thought savagely. And she couldn't even tell anyone, couldn't
ask Buffy for forgiveness, couldn't ask Xander to give her his extra cookie
at lunch tomorrow, she was all alone.

"It's all *right*!" Angelus repeated, sounding slightly confused and
irritated by her reaction. "They know who you belong to now. They'll leave
you alone."

Willow reluctantly pulled her head back and looked up at him. He was the
one causing all her problems, she reminded herself. Therefore, he's really
not the one to be crying on. Not unless he was wearing a silk shirt, of
course, because then it would be water-stained and hah, that would show him.
Wait -

"Is that why you did it?" Willow said hesitantly, "You know, all of...
that?" She waved her hands in a nebulous gesture meant to symbolize
everything that had happened in the room.

Angelus looked down at her, and his mouth twisted. "Yes," he said.

Thank God, Willow thought, and felt like smiling for the first time in
hours. Because she could live with the biting, but the rest... yikes.

"But..." Angelus said slowly.

'But'? Willow thought. No but! That was a good answer!

"That isn't to say it won't happen again," Angelus finished smoothly, and
Willow suddenly realized that his hands on her back, which had been
comforting, had begun a slow stroking motion. Up. Down. Up.

Yipes!

Willow pushed hard against Angelus' chest and managed to lever herself all
of two inches away from him, which would have been more encouraging if the
smirk on Angelus' face hadn't made it clear that he was letting her to do
it.

"But... blood!" Willow said hopefully.

She couldn't believe that she was trying to talk him into biting her.
Again. Oh, this was a banner day for Willow's self-esttem.

"Yes," Angelus said, the word low and disturbing. His fingers lingered over
the pulsing vein in her neck. "Your blood makes you mine." The cool weight
of his fingers was on her face now, leaving a trail of ice where they traced
over the bone. "But the rest of you belongs to me too. Which means that..."
His smile was pure devilment. "I can do whatever I want with it."

There didn't seem to be anything to be said to that. The only things that
Willow could think of to say were either:

Hey! I don't belong to you! And I'm not an it! - Which is pretty much
suicide, she thought.

Or:

But... why would you want me? - which sounds like I'm begging for
compliments.

So she didn't say anything.

In retrospect, that wasn't the best move either.

She had about a second to regret it, and then Angelus pulled her close and
her mind went blank. Angelus' lips were cool, soft, and frighteningly
gentle when he brushed them against her eyelids, her cheeks, so gentle that
she wanted to cry because it was all a lie and reality was sharp and
painful.

But then his mouth was on hers, still gentle, soft and coaxing as his tongue
traced the closed frightened line of her lips, and it was so hard to
remember that it wasn't real when there was something bright and complicated
twisting itself up in her stomach and she opened her mouth under his and
felt rather than heard the satisfied hum he made, and forgot it entirely
when his hands slid around to her hips and pulled them hard against him.

She was making noises again, small desperate noises that sounded like they
must have been coming from someone else, and they blended into the sound of
his voice when he spoke softly, encouragingly, against her skin and told her
what a good girl she was, how well she was doing, such a good girl, and
Willow felt drugged and distant when he silenced himself again on her mouth
and she closed her eyes and forgot who she was.

Angelus drew away first and dropped his hands and stepped away. And left
Willow standing alone and suddenly bereft.

Willow looked at him with dazed eyes, feeling forgetfulness drop away like a
shroud and remembering that this was wrong, all of it, completely wrong, and
she took in the unruffled calm of his expression and the faintly amused
smile on his face as he watched her struggle back to memory. At that moment,
her emotions were uncomplicated: hate.

Hate for him knowing just how to get to her, for making her not fight him,
for making her feel things that made her ill to think of now, with him
looking at her like that, Angelus, darkness and pain and evil and *calm*,
unstirred by an experience that had shattered her, was still shattering her.

One more second of that awful calm watching and she still couldn't speak,
and Angelus took her by the arm and pulled her to the door and opened it.

"Tomorrow, Willow. Be home," he said, his fingers dropping away from her
arm. "Now go find your friends and let them know that you're fine."

Is that what I am, Willow thought numbly. Fine?

She stepped out and the door closed behind her, melting invisibly back into
the wall of the Bronze. Willow turned to walk away and nearly bumped into
Buffy.

"Willow!" Buffy said with an uncomplicated smile. "There you are! Where'd
you go? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Willow said softly, and wondered when it became so easy to lie.

Part Thirteen

Willow's life was becoming blurred, hard to hold on to, a mismatched
patchwork quilt of fear and smiling and crying and math classes and blood
and...

"Willow?" Buffy said, "Could you pass me the protractor?"

"Sure," Willow said, and smiled as she passed it over.

"Great. Now, could you do the problem for me?"

Blink and Willow smiled again, a little too slow, a pause there for Willow
to think 'what would Willow do?' and decide that the Willow-that-used-to-be
would have found it funny.

"No," Willow said. "That would defeat the purpose of practice questions."

"But I'm the Chosen One! And also stupid, apparently." Buffy pointed out,
looking bitterly down at the paper. "Doesn't that get me special
treatment?"

"Which one?"

"The stupid one?" Buffy tried.

"No," Willow said.

"The Chosen One... um, one?"

"No," Willow said, smiling again.

"Fine," Buffy said, settling down in her chair with a sulky expression.
"But when I get kicked out of school, and have to get a job at the malls
selling shoes to Cordelia, I'm *not* slaying any more school monsters. Not
unless they give me class credit for it." Her expression brightened and she
sat up straight. "Hey, do you think that - "

"No," Willow said emphatically.

"But-" Buffy started.

"Just... no," Willow said, and this time she really did smile. "Nice try,
though."

Buffy made a noise like 'hmph' and bent over her paper.

Maybe I should tell her, Willow thought unexpectedly. Maybe it doesn't
have to be this way.

Out of the corner of her eye, Willow could see Buffy scribbling something on
her notebook that looked suspiciously like a stick figure version of the
demon they'd found that afternoon in the girl's washroom on the second
floor.

She looks so young, Willow thought. She is so young. And everything about
Angelus hurts her; you can see it in her eyes.

Buffy was now adding a round head being crushed in the demon's jaws, a
scowling head with X-ed out eyes and long dark hair.

Heh, Willow thought, momentarily distracted.

Buffy smiled at the drawing, and Willow's heart sank. She's happy, Willow
thought. With all that's going on, she's still happy some of the time.
That's a fragile thing. I could take that from her. I could be the thing
that breaks her.

I can't tell her.

And the day blurred again.

Six hours later, Willow was blinking into the driving rain, flat on her back
on the muddy ground with no breath in her lungs and a stick poking into her
back.

Buffy extended a hand to her. "You okay?" Buffy asked.

Willow nodded numbly. She took Buffy's hand and let her friend pull her to
her feet, trying very hard not to stare.

Buffy was death in a tank top, blood and dirt matting in her wet hair and
trickling across her forehead, angry red scratches sharp as tattoos on her
arms where the demon had clawed her. The demon itself was a barely
identifiable shape lying on the ground behind her, bleeding green and gold
that melded with the rain and washed away.

You know, Willow thought dazedly, maybe Buffy isn't all that fragile.

Maybe I could tell her.

Maybe that's just the concussion talking.

"C'mon, Wills," Buffy said cheerfully, taking her arm. "Let's go tell the
guys that we came, I slew, and now they get clean up duty."

"Well, I didn't really do anything -" Willow started to say, and then caught
herself. Hey, she was being pursued-caught? controlled? something anyway,
something not good-by a bloodthirsty demon, and in that situation even she
didn't feel like talking herself into clean up duty.

Willow smiled at Buffy, another real smile, a banner day, and said, "You're
right. They can do the cleaning up."

Buffy grinned back at her. "I knew you'd see the light. And while they do
the icky, wanna come over to my house? We can watch movies, do our nails,
sharpen my weapons, talk, you know - girl stuff."

Talking could be good, Willow thought. Unless it led to *talking*, in which
case all of my friends will die and I'll suffer horribly. Which would be
less good.

The sun was going down.

"Sorry," Willow said, meaning it, "I have to get home. It's getting dark."

"Now, why can't everyone in Sunnydale feel that way? It would make my job
*so* much easier." Buffy said. "Okay, you head home. I'll just tell the
guys where the body is, and then I'll come over."

No, Willow thought wildly.

"N-" Willow said wildly.

"And I'd better hurry!" Buffy cut in as the headlights of a passing car
washed over them, briefly illuminating the corpse thinly veiled by the
sheets of rain. "The police are pretty oblivious, but I don't want to push
their stupidity too far! See you soon!"

"No, but, but..." Willow called after Buffy's quickly disappearing back.
But then Buffy was gone, and Willow was alone with the corpse, and the
corpse was the least of her problems.

I hate my life, she thought.

She turned and started to walk towards her house, walking slowly despite the
rain running down her neck and into her shoes. Her mind turned over
scenario after scenario of how the evening could go. Most of them ended
with her dead. Some ended with Buffy dead.

One, hopelessly optimistic, ended with Angelus taking up a new hobby, maybe
crossword puzzles, and forgetting about Willow entirely. Willow liked that
one. She could buy him a 250,000 piece puzzle with a picture of a black cat
at midnight, and by the time he'd finished that the rest of them would have
died of natural causes.

Oh god, Angelus wasn't going to like this.

Willow frowned. "No," she said aloud, her voice lost in the thunder that
crashed overhead. "I'm *not* going to think like that. Angelus' mood is not
my top priority." She walked faster, feeling a sudden need to move, to
escape; to escape from her thoughts, from the rain, and from the part of her
that had accepted it all as inevitable.

I hate my life, she thought again.

This is not my life.

I'm not going to let it be.

*****

Buffy sprinted away through the rain, leaving Willow behind. She could hear
her saying "But... but..."

Picking up her pace, she was out of earshot in a matter of seconds. Don't
hear you, Willow, she thought triumphantly. Too bad. You're having
company tonight.

Willow had been being way too antisocial every since... Buffy's mind stopped
there, shying away from the memory of Willow lying on the floor, all pale
skin and dark circles. Better to think of Willow smiling as Buffy forced
her to eat more pizza, blushing when Buffy teased her about Oz. Yes. That
would make things better.

She turned a corner and caught sight of the rest of the gang crouched
surreptitiously behind a Dumpster. It would have been a more effective
hiding place if the axe hadn't been poking out on top. It was a very large
axe.

Buffy waved at them and ran over, "It's all over, folks," she said
cheerfully. "We came, we found, we slayed."

"You killed it?" Giles said, frowning.

"Yep!" Buffy said. "Smile, will you? It's a happy thing!"

"Yes, of course, but..." Giles' voice trailed off, and he looked down at the
axe in his hands.

Xander clapped him on the shoulder. "There, there," he said, "I'm sure you'
ll get to use your Axe of Greyskull on some other demon."

"Maybe Skeletor will show," Oz added.

"It's the Axe of Grizkill!" Giles snapped, "And it's specially made for this
type of demon. As it happens, they're very rare."

"And getting more so," Buffy put in brightly.

"Yes," Giles said, still looking put out, "How did you, er, dispatch it
without the axe?"

Buffy shrugged. "I beat it to death with a hockey stick."

"Ouch," Xander said, wincing, "It's the penalty box for you, missy,"

"Missy?" Cordelia said witheringly.

"As fun as this is, guys," Buffy said, "Willow's waiting for me. You guys
get cleanup."

"Where *is* Willow?" Cordelia said, her voice strident. "If *I* have to do
this..."

"She helped me," Buffy said firmly. "She went home, and now I'm going over
there." She turned to repeat her successful unequivocal-statement-and-run
procedure, but paused. "Oh yeah. The body is in the park."

She disappeared into the gathering darkness, leaving behind some very wet
and bitter friends.

Hoisting the axe, Giles sighed. "Right then. Off we go."

Once out of sight, Buffy slowed to a walk. She couldn't really get much
wetter, and she didn't want to draw any attention.

As she drew closer to Willow's house, Buffy could feel that there was a
vampire nearby. It was a strange feeling - like a cross between pins and
needles and stepping out of a hot bath into cold air. Not pleasant.

She slowed down and looked around casually. With malicious optimism she
hoped that it was the same vampire that had attacked Willow. Now what had
Willow said he looked like? Oh yeah - short, stocky and balding...

Her sharp eyes searched the area, looking for anyone lurking suspiciously.
Sucking blood from someone would be also be a tip off. She saw no one.

This is not to say that there was no one there.

From the shadows under the balcony, Angelus watched Buffy looking for him.

I do hope my new toy hasn't done anything foolish, he thought. Something
like telling the Slayer about the *special* relationship we have. His lips
parted in a wolfish grin. I'd have to punish her.

Looking out from her window, Willow saw Buffy come to a stop in the middle
of the road.

Oh no, she thought, *please* just have lost something, please leave, or come
in, but don't, don't, *please* don't -

As she watched, Buffy surreptitiously slid a stake from her shoulder bag,
palming it.

No, Willow thought, and she was on the balcony now, rain pouring down her
face, her hands tight and painful on the railing, please.

It felt like a dream, like she knew what was going to happen, so much so
that she didn't even flinch when a dark figure separated from the darkness
underneath her balcony and moved towards Buffy. Willow didn't need to see
his face.

Willow's hands gripped the wood and she was surprised that it didn't
splinter, and Angelus was almost behind Buffy now. A dream still, a
nightmare now, moving towards a certain disaster.

I should scream, Willow thought numbly, warn her, but... If he knows,
he'll... If I don't, she'll die! I don't want her to die. I don't want to
die.

No decision at all, really.