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The hands were rough as they pushed Willow down, her hands
and knees scraping across the hard cement and she fought to hold back her tears
while adrenaline screamed through her veins, making her heart race in fear.
This couldn't be happening to her, not now, not after all she had been through
for the past two weeks.
"Please no," Willow sobbed, struggling to push
herself off the ground. A fist connected with the back of her head, forcing her
to stay down, her forehead being slammed against the hard cement and she cried
out, a strangled scream of pain and terror.
"Begging isn't going to help you now, you stuck up
little bitch," it was the boy from her French class. Since Angelus' threat
she had done her best not to talk to anyone, apart from her few friends and it
hadn’t exactly increased her popularity. But she had never thought it would
lead to this, some enraged, drunken youth leaning over her, tangling his fist
in her hair, accusing her of being a snob, a little rich girl who was too busy
spending daddy’s money on fancy clothes and jewelry and who thought herself too
good to talk to the commoners.
"You're no better than the stupid sluts you ignore day after day,
in fact, you're nothing more than a dirty little whore..."
As his hands tore at the fine silk chiffon shirt that she’d
worn to school, Willow once more tried to flee, clawing against the cement with
her hands, trying to pull away. The
blow to the back of her head was repeated and her vision blurred as she crashed
back down against the hard cement. She
could vaguely hear words of hatred mix with the sound of material tearing and
her skirt was hiked up over her thighs, but all she could do was cry as her
mind closed down and her body refused to respond, to the boy, to fight, to
flee. She collapsed against the hard cement,
only to have the hands pull at her, yank her hips back and hold her up. But as one hand fumbled between her legs,
the support was suddenly gone with a quick snap and a thump and she dropped
back against the cement.
Slowly, Willow raised her grazed forehead from the pavement
and glanced back up at her would be attacker. He was gone and Spike stood
there, glowering at her. Twisting about, she stumbled, her feet catching on
something and she dropped her gaze down from the blond to his feet and the
lifeless body of the boy.
"Oh god," she cried out, scrambling back and
covering her face with her hands as she realized that Spike had snapped the
boy’s neck. Even as her savior took a step forward, still glowering, Willow
burst into a flood of tears.
"Oh bloody hell, women!" he exclaimed, stepping
over the body and leaning down to gather her sobbing form up into his
arms. Spike didn’t ask any questions or
offer words of comfort, he merely held her close and took her back to the
mansion. By the time he walked through
the front doors, she had stopped crying but was still clinging to him, her face
buried in the crook of his neck. Spike glanced about the main foyer of the
mansion and grunted at the few minions staring at the odd spectacle he made as
he carried his sire's consort. Angrily, he turned to them. "What the hell
are you looking at?"
The minions bowed their heads and continued with their
business. However, their whispers followed him up the stairs and he ground his
teeth together.
"Angelus," he called out as he reached the top of
the stairs and walked into the master lounge area. Angelus strolled out from
the library, casually glancing up at his childe, frowning at the sight of him
cradling the redhead.
"What happened?" asked Angelus as Spike set her
down before him. The blond stepped aside, his hands automatically seeking out
his cigarettes, lighting one as his sire turned his full attention to the
girl. Angelus cupped her chin, tilting
her head so he could get a clear view of the graze on her forehead before his
eyes swept over her, taking in the torn shirt and similar marks on her
knees. Ever so gently, his hand brushed
back the mussed red hair that was clinging to her clammy face and he cupped her
cheek, fixing his eyes on hers. "Willow, what happened?"
"Mitchell," Willow whispered, the full enormity
of the situation hitting home now that she was safe with Angelus and the threat
had been removed. Involuntarily, she
shuddered, taking a huge gulping breath as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. "He...I'd
left Buffy and was walking through the park..." She glanced up at Angelus,
frightened that he might misconstrue the situation. "He grabbed me
and...and…and I couldn't stop him, he threw me down..."
"Oh, come on, love,” snorted Spike in disgust,
smirking at her tears. “He was standing
in front of you for at least five minutes, you could have easily knead him in
the balls..."
"What?" growled Angelus, swinging his head to
glare at the smirking blond. Lightning
quick, his hand flew out, striking Spike with enough force to wipe the smirk off
his face and Willow gasped in shock. "You were there?"
Spike slowly bought his head back up to look at his sire
and clenched his jaw, his eyes hardening.
"I followed her from when she left the Slayer,"
he affirmed, his body tensing as Angelus’ eyes flashed amber from fury.
“And you did nothing? Just let her get hurt?" Angelus
demanded, closing the distance between them.
"I thought she'd have picked up enough from the Slayer
to defend herself. The kid was as pissed as a fart ~ a kitten could've taken
him down," Spike insisted, clenching his jaw, his eyes fixed on his
sire. Angelus smiled, shaking his head
slightly as he started to turn away and Spike smirked again, making the foolish
mistake of turning to crow over Willow. Angelus' fist collided with one of his
sharp cheekbones, catching him off guard and sending him crashing back into the
empty fireplace, his temple catching on the metal grate with a bone-crunching
crack.
Willow watched in horror as Spike pushed himself up onto
his hands and knees, shaking his head, trying to clear his blurred vision as
Angelus stormed toward him.
"No, please," she begged for the second time that
night, stepping in front of Angelus, her hands reaching up to rest against his
chest, her eyes filling with tears of panic and fear. "It wasn't his
fault, he didn't do anything wrong."
Angelus' hand shot out and seized her about the neck,
pulling her up off her feet before pushing her off balance and making her to
crash down on her bloodied knees. His hand kept a crushing pressure on her
neck, causing the knot work of the necklace to bite into her flesh, and golden
eyes stared coldly down at her.
"This has nothing to do with you," he snarled,
releasing his death grip and pushing her backwards. Turning his gaze to Spike,
who was struggling to stand, he addressed her. "Go have a bath and get
cleaned up...I'll deal with you later."
Willow shook in fear at those words ~ she didn't want to be
dealt with, not now, not ever. She glanced over at Spike, who had managed to
stand somewhat shakily and Angelus' fist moved in a blur, striking out at his
childe, sending him sprawling back down. Almost casually, he moved over his
fallen form, glancing down as Spike once more tried to rise up onto his hands
and knees. With a swift kick to the ribs, Angelus pushed him back down.
"You know better than that, my boy," he snarled,
his head swinging to look at Willow who was still held to her spot in blind
terror. "Go, now!"
Scrambling to her feet, Willow ran to the door that led to
her rooms and shut herself away from the scene playing out in the master lounge
room. Even through the heavy door, she could hear Angelus asking Spike
questions, the sound of his fist slamming into him. Shaking, she walked away
from the door and into the bathroom, too scared of the repercussions of
disobeying Angelus. Unfortunately, even the sound of the bath running did
nothing to drown out the sounds coming from the lounge room.
"I'm not her bloody keeper," yelled Spike in
frustration, his voice tainted with a hint of pain.
"You are exactly what I tell you to be," was
Angelus' curt reply.
After that the voices softened, Angelus' voice became a
constant low murmur that soothed her as Willow climbed up into the bath, full
of hot scented water. She sat in the water listening to Angelus' low rumble,
assuming that the fighting had stopped, soon his voice was accompanied by soft
grunts and groans. Sounds she had heard before, from Angelus' bedroom when the
two vampires were together and generally in bed together. But as she continued
to listen, concentrating on those sounds, she realized they were different.
There was no pleasure, they were tinged with pain, almost like someone was
trying to hold back screams. Pulling her legs up to her chest, she wrapped her
arms about them as she continued to listen.
She jumped as a crash sounded from the lounge room and Spike fought to
contain a scream, it left him as a half strangled cry of pain.
"Oh no, please no," she whispered to herself, bringing
her hands up to cover her ears. Unfortunately, she could still clearly hear
Spike's agonized screams, each one growing louder and lasting longer. By the
time they stopped the bath water was cold and Willow was still sitting in it,
her hands over her ears, eyes screwed tightly shut.
It was how Angelus found her, some ten minutes later, and
he reached over her to turn on the hot water, topping up the bath and removing
the chill of the water. Quickly stripping off, he joined her, dragging her
hands away from her ears.
"Open your eyes, Willow," he demanded. She did
so, her eyes falling on his face as he turned her hands over in his, exposing
the grazes. "Did he hurt you?"
"No, not really.
Spike," Willow began to say only to have Angelus cut her off.
"No talk of Spike," he stated calmly, his thumbs
running over the grazes, causing her to gasp in pain and look down. Her eyes
widened as she took in his hands, long fingers covered in blood, torn flesh and
bruised knuckles. The water took on a pink tinge as it washed over their hands,
cleansing them both. "Let's get you cleaned up. These," his thumbs
brushed across her palms. "Should be fine."
Willow watched in confused silence as he picked up the
sponge and began to bathe her, his fingers and hands caressing her body,
soothing the aches and pains. Carefully, Angelus cleaned the dirt and grit from
the scrapes on her knees and hands and his fingers examined the back of her
head where she'd been hit. Finally, he washed her hair, dried her off and dressed
her in a soft satin negligee. Picking her up, he carried her to the bed and
laid her down, pulling the covers up and tucking her in like a child.
"I'm going out for a few hours. Get some sleep,"
he murmured, turning off the lights and leaving her to the darkness of the
room.
In her traumatized state, Willow soon fell asleep, but it
was restless, plagued by nightmares, confusion and conflict. She woke, hours later, tangled in her sheets
and sweating, her heart pounding. For a
moment, she lay in the darkness, getting her bearings, realizing that she was
safely tucked up in her room in the mansion and for all appearances she was
safe. Except that she was being
strangled by her tangled bed linen.
Frustrated, she tore herself away from the sheets, getting out of the
bed and seeking out a glass of water from the bathroom. She stopped as she spotted Angelus' door
open, unlike her room there was some light, a few candles set on the far beside
table, casting flickering shadows over the single figure lying in the bed. Frowning, Willow inched forward and paused
at the door, peering into the murky darkness. She could see nothing except for
the bed and Spike lying on his stomach arms outstretched, a sheet resting low
on hips leaving his back exposed.
As Willow moved into the room, walking towards the massive
bed that was covered in shadows, she realized there was a purpose to his
position. His back was nothing more
than torn shreds of flesh, bloodied and ripped, and Willow felt her stomach
drop as she stopped next to the bed. Angelus had beaten him for something that
wasn't even his fault. Slowly, she reached out across the bed, her fingers
brushing lightly across his bruised cheek, causing him to flinch and half open
his eyes. She swallowed as his bloodshot eyes focused on her. Crouching down,
she continued to stroke his face, her eyes filling with tears, her bottom lip
trembling.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, knowing that she
was the cause of his beating. For a moment, he stared unblinkingly and then
clenched his jaw.
"Fuck off," he growled and hissed as he lifted
his head to turn away from her fingers. Willow hiccupped as a tear escaped,
falling down her cheek, and she pulled her hand back, cradling it to her chest.
A soft rumble of laughter from the dark corner of the room startled her,
causing her to step back from the bed and her eyes widened as the corner came
to life, a solid shape pushing itself out of a chair.
Angelus strolled calmly towards her, stretching out his
hand and capturing hers so he could lead her back to her own room. Gathering her in his arms, he laid them down
on the bed, pulling the covers up and tucking the trembling girl in close
against him. Angelus gently ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it back
off her face and he smiled down at her.
And still Willow trembled, whether she was cold or scared or shocked,
she didn't know. She didn't know anything anymore.
"Spike had a point tonight, Willow," Angelus
spoke quietly, his fingers tracing the contours of her face. "You should be
able to defend yourself, we won't always be there and you certainly can't rely
on Buffy..."
Willow winced at the use of that name. He rarely spoke of
any of her friends ~ they didn't interest him. Still, he continued to stroke
her face and talk.
"You'll train with Spike for an hour every morning
before school," he paused and smirked, a soft burst of laughter leaving
him. "You can start in a few days..."
Willow couldn't help it, the tears started to fall, hot and
desperate. A few days because Spike was too badly beaten to probably even get
out of bed until then. As the tears continued to fall she shook her head, not
looking at Angelus.
"I can't," she hiccupped and Angelus laughed, his
tongue tracing the graze on her forehead.
"Yes you can and you will," he stated quietly as
his lips pressed against the graze. Still Willow continued to shake her head,
her body trembling uncontrollably as the past few weeks’ confusion and pain
caught up with her.
"No, I can't do this anymore," she cried, gasping
as his arms pulled her in close to him. "I just can't...Buffy's been
asking so many questions and...and it's only going to be a matter of time
before there's some huge crisis and they'll need me..."
Angelus smiled as she continued to list the problems that their
arrangement brought her, his hands caressing her back and neck.
"I can't do it anymore," Willow hiccupped again,
closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at him. "I don't know what
you expect from me and…and I'm so tired. I go to school, I lie to my friends, I
push them away because I don't want them to get hurt..."
"Shhh, Willow," hushed Angelus, rocking her in
his arms. He leaned down and dragged the tip of his tongue along her cheek,
catching her tears, and kissed her closed eyes. "You will continue to do
it, because if you don't I shall lock you in these rooms and bring each of your
friends in to kill, leaving their rotting corpses here to keep you
company."
Willow shuddered in his arms, the tears falling faster as
she knew that he was right. She couldn't make everything stop just by saying
she didn't want to do it anymore. It had gone beyond that. There was no turning
back, not now, not ever.
"You know who will be first? Hmm?" he looked down
at the tiny redhead crying in his arms and smiled. "Xander. Did you ever
play this little piggy, Willow? Well I shall play little piggy with his nails
first, pulling off one for each pig, then I'll rip off his fingers and toes.
What do you think? I could string that out for days, one foot or hand each
day..."
"No," whispered Willow, glancing up at his cold
malicious eyes. "Please...don't. I didn't mean...I'm just
so...tired."
"Shhh, I know. That's why you should sleep now,"
Angelus whispered, kissing her forehead, his fingers once more stroking her hair.
"Close your eyes and I'll tell you a fairytale about a redheaded princess
and her dark prince."
Willow closed her eyes and listened to his macabre tale of
pain and death for all her friends, details of what he would do, what he wanted
to do the minute she reneged on their agreement. There was doubt in her mind
that he meant every word that he said, the gleeful tone of his voice, the
minute details, and she knew she had no choice but to continue in her role of
Angelus’ consort. That there had never
been a choice and never would be.
Sighing in defeat, she drifted off into a restless sleep, his hands
still caressing her face gently.
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