Title: Roses are Red
Author: Jinni ( druscilla@cox.net <mailto:druscilla@cox.net> )
Pairing: W/Angelus
Genre: BtVS Dark Fic
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon and/or whoever is
currently claiming responsibility for them. I own nothing nor do I make any
money by writing fanfic.
Distribution: WLF. NHA. BMP. WLS. Aislin. Anyone else who has permission for
my other stuff.
Author’s Note: I have a neat new place where you can go to view my fanfics,
discuss my fics, challenges, ideas, etc. Go here and join and discuss,
please!! –
http://groups.msn.com/AWitchsLoveFanfic
Note: This is a dark fic. I just felt like writing it for some reason.

~*~

I love him.

I love him not.

I love him.

I love him not.

The drops of blood falling from overhead make a steady staccato on the floor
of the warehouse, merging together in one great puddle that splishes each
time another drop is added. It is to this that I say my litany.

I love him.

I love him not.

"Where, oh, where has my An-gel-us gone? Where or where can he be?"

My voice fills the empty warehouse, like a whisper growing to thunderous
proportions as it bounces here and there, off rafters and steps, girders and
beams. It echoes everywhere, making me sound so much bigger than I really
am. But I’m not big. I’m very small, especially compared to my love for him.

I love him.

I love him not.

"Shhh." I whisper to the blood. It’s so loud, splashing and splishing, like
ruby red raindrops falling from the heavens. But these don’t fall from the
heavens. They fall from the rafters. From the bodies that are strung up like
decorations.

I helped put them there.

It was my decision.

Does that absolve him of the guilt? Does it make me the guilty party in the
heinous crimes that have been committed?

Shhh.

I’m a bad, bad girl.

I wanted to make them hurt.

And so – I did.

Slit. Slash.

Slippery stuff, blood is.

It got everywhere.

Stains in the carpet.

"Ha!"

Again, it echoes.

I like the sound of my own voice, echoing. It knows that I’m so much bigger
than what I seem, so much louder than this weak body gives me the
opportunity to be.

But I’m going to get stronger.

Better.

Brighter.

I’ll shine like the sun in the sky. No – like the moon at night. Beautiful,
bright, round. I’ll be a star in my new world. I’ll paint the town red.

"Red like an apple. Red like a cherry." I giggled. "Red like –"

"Red like blood, baby?"

Oh.

He’s here.

His arms slip around me and suddenly I’m sane again, like his touch alone is
enough to put back together the pieces of my broken mind. He broke me. He
made me like this. But I was willing. I didn’t argue or fight. I walked in,
with open arms and open mind. He wanted a toy and I wanted to be free.

We both have what we want now.

"Love me, Red?"

The roses he holds in front of me are red, like the blood on the floor. They
look like they belong down there, their petals floating in the thick
gooiness.

"Thank you."

I forgot to thank him for a present once. He didn’t like it very much.
Wouldn’t come around for days, made me suffer in my insanity until I
wondered if it were even possible to be sane anymore.

I always thank him now.

"You’ve been in here with them for hours." He’s nuzzling my neck. Hungry,
lover? Want a piece of me? Drink from the fount of my being – take all I am.

Because all I am is yours.

"They’re nice like this." I smile. His teeth graze my neck, not enough to
draw blood, but still I feel the phantom pains of times before when he did
sink deep enough to taste of my nectar. It used to hurt, but not now. Now I
enjoy it.

I enjoy so much more now.

"Nice?" He’s looking up, at the ceiling. At the bodies. They hang there,
still oozing like animals strung up for slaughter. They’re still fresh. Mmm.
Fresh meat. Just killed this afternoon. And all for me. All by me. They’re
my first kills.

And I’m not even dead yet.

"Yeah." He smirks. "I guess they are nice like this. Quiet. Dead."

I laugh, throwing my head back and spinning in circles. This is the closest
I get to sanity now, and its still not very close. How very sad that I’ve
fallen so far, hmm?

But I’m happy.

Which is more than They can say.

Wait.

They can’t say –anything- now.

Another laugh and now he’s looking at me.

That look.

Willow’s been a good girl. Gonna get some.

"Right here?" I purr, stepping close enough to touch his chest, to run my
nails down the silk. Not too hard. Don’t want to rip the shirt. "In their
blood?"

"But we did it in their blood earlier." He leers, already unbuttoning my
shirt. There’s blood on it as soon as it hits the ground.

"I’ll buy you another one."

"Goodie. Shopping."

Oh – if they could see me now.

Little Willow Rosenberg.

Fucking the great Angelus, sire of Drusilla, grandsire of Spike; in the
blood of her fallen friends.

But they can’t see me. Their eyes are dull and lifeless. Well, Xander’s are.
Buffy doesn’t have eyes anymore and Giles’ had his glasses shoved through
his.

They should have paid more attention to me. None of this would have happened
if they had been better friends. If I hadn’t needed to find someone who –

Oh, Goddess.

"Don’t stop." I moan, holding his head to my bared breasts. "Please don’t
stop."

His mask has slipped, the demon is out to play. I like the way the ridges
feel on my chest, on my stomach, and I –love- the way they feel
down –there-.

You know where, right?

Oops. No laughing while he’s licking. Such talent with the tongue and teeth.
A true master of oral sex.

Yep. In their blood. We’re gonna do it in their blood.

Again.

What a shame they’ll stop bleeding soon.

I could do this forever.

~*~End Fic~*~