Title: Strange Fascination
Author: Kat, a.k.a. KallieRose
E-mail: [email protected]
Rating: FRAO (fan rated suitable for adults only)  
Pairing: Willow/Angelus 
Disclaimer: I acknowledge Joss Whedon as god of gods. All the characters in this story are his creation, along with Fox, the rest of the Mutant Enemy Crew, and whomever else wants to lay claim to them. I'm merely killing time by putting them in totally unrealistic situations :-)
Summary: Willow make a choice that will have serious consequences. 

Strange Fascination

Chapter 1

Willow had to admit that The Bronze just wasn't any fun when you were alone.  The pounding music, the busy dance floor, the people rushing from the bar to the table to the dance floor, chattering loudly--all of it was giving her a slight headache and a mild case of the blues.  She wished Buffy and Xander would hurry up and get here, so she wouldn't feel so awkward.  

"Willow sitting alone on a Saturday night, what a surprise."

She barely heard the cruel taunt coming from somewhere behind her; the sound of the music was so loud that it tended to drown out almost everything else.  But, sadly enough, she *did* hear it, and recognized Cordelia's saccharine-sweet voice immediately.  'Bitch,' she thought, and then chastised herself for being so uncharitable.  So maybe Cordelia could use some lessons in tact.  Or more to the point, a heart.  But, she told herself, it was nobody's fault except her own if she let the Cordelias of this world rattle her cage.  So instead of buying into that mean comment, she thought of something else...

With a hint of a smile, Willow looked down at her new outfit.  Buffy had picked it out, and insisted that Xander would drool over her when he saw her wearing it.  The cobalt blue of the dress and the simple lines set off her hair and her figure to their best advantage.  Spaghetti straps left her shoulders mostly bare, which actually felt pretty good since it was so warm in the club.  It did feel a little weird to wear such a short dress, but she knew that it was far more modest than most of the outfits Buffy wore, so maybe it wasn't really so bad.

These days Buffy seemed to be going with a 'less is more' theme in an effort to get more of Angel's attentions.  Her skirts had gotten shorter and the cut of her blouses had gotten lower.  Willow wasn't sure if the ploy was working, although Angel did seem to spend a lot of time helping them out.  And considering that he was a vampire, and Buffy was the Slayer, that was all kinds of weird.  Or so Giles said.  Except that he Britished it up quite a bit when he said it.

As if she had conjured him with her thoughts, Willow saw Angel entering the club.  Dressed in black, as usual.  Although the leather pants were new.  They looked good on him too, she had to admit, the way they clung to his lean hips and muscular thighs.   She quickly pulled her thoughts away from that particular part of his body.  That was Buffy’s domain, she reminded herself.

He stood just inside the doorway, surveying the occupants of the club with a clinical detachment that she had seen him use before.  He was probably looking for Buffy, she realized.  Hopefully he wouldn't be too disappointed to find that she wasn't there yet.

When his eyes reached her, she waved him over.  He hesitated for a second, and then a lazy smile crossed his face and he began walking towards her, winding his way easily through the crush of bodies.  When he reached the table, his eyes captured hers, and it was as if someone had suddenly sucked all the air out of the room.  There was no sound, no sense of motion, nobody else in the room with them.  Just Willow and Angel.

"May I have this dance, Little Red Riding Hood?"  

His voice was low and teasing, and really, really sexy.  Willow was glad she was sitting down, because if she hadn't been, he probably would have had to catch her, since her knees had just turned to jelly.  That voice...she had never heard him talk like that before.  At least, not to her.  

Maybe Buffy wasn't wrong about the dress.  Except that this was Angel eyeing her like his favorite toy, and not Xander.   Of course, she was sure that he was just trying to be polite.

He reached out and laid his hand on her shoulder, his other hand held out towards her.  Oh, he was waiting for an answer, she realized.  

"Dance?  Uh, okay.  Yeah.  Dance."

She sounded like an idiot.  It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out.  But the thought of dancing with Angel left her feeling like she only had two brain cells left, and they were both watching an episode of Ricky Lake.  Deciding that this was one of those times where silence was a good idea, she stood, grabbed his hand, and let him lead her onto the dance floor before he changed his mind.  

The song was slow and haunting, and Willow couldn't help but feel a little giddy when Angel folded her into his arms, making her feel protected from anything bad that could ever possibly happen.  She sank into the feeling of well-being, reveling in it, as deeper feelings for Angel began stirring within her soul.

He was taller than she was, but it seemed to work out okay.  She put her head against his shoulder, and his chin rested lightly against her forehead.  It should have been impossible to feel so completely relaxed, and yet so incredibly nervous, all at the same time.  But somehow she did.  Willow hoped that this moment, filled as it was with anticipation and expectation, would never end, even though logically she knew that it would have to; Buffy and Xander would be here soon enough, and once they were, she and Xander would go back to the table to talk, and Angel would hold Buffy in his arms, just as he was holding Willow now.

His hands drifted down her back, leaving a trail of tingling skin in their wake, before coming to rest lightly on her hips.  Using them to guide her, he pulled her body in tight against his, as his lips pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.  The suggestive way that his body pressed against hers was making her feel overheated, even as his body cooled hers down.  The softness of his black sweater felt good against her cheek, so she snuggled into it in an attempt to hide her burning face.

"You smell good enough to eat, Little Red Riding Hood."

The words were almost a growl this time, and Willow clung to him tightly, as visions of all the things he could do with his mouth ran through her overactive imagination.  She wasn't sure where his whole 'Little Red Riding Hood' thing was coming from, but it made her want to run her hands over his body and pull his mouth down to hers for a kiss.  Her cheeks continued to flame at her own wanton thoughts.

She knew she was being silly.  This was Angel.  He was being nice; that was all.  Flirting with the geek as he passed time waiting for Buffy.  That was all this could possibly be, she told herself.  And yet the way that he held her told her that that was a lie.  The mixed messages she was getting were making her dizzy, tempting her to be brazen one moment and then urging caution the next.

She wanted to be bold.  She wanted it more than the moon and the stars; more than the air she breathed.  If only she could say something that would set him aflame with desire the same way that his words and motions were doing to her.  But she wasn't sure what to say.  She wasn't Buffy, after all, with her legendary prowess at the quick retort.  

"Are you the big, bad wolf?" she asked finally, her words almost lost in the surrounding din.

She heard his snort of amusement clearly enough, and felt the way his lips twitched into a smile against her forehead.

"I can be so very, very bad," he whispered.  "Why don't you let me show you..."

The invitation was clear, and Willow had a choice to make.  She could demur, and lead this conversation back onto safer ground.  Or she could answer in kind, and find out exactly what it was that he was promising.

Would it be wrong to kiss Angel?  To lift her face up towards his and let their lips touch?  Her heart said yes, that this would be disloyal to Buffy.  But the logical, analytical part of her brain reminded her that just because Buffy liked Angel didn't mean that Angel liked Buffy.  And that if he wanted to be with her, and not Buffy, then that was his choice.  And hers, of course.  After all, she didn't see Buffy's name tattooed on Angel anywhere.

While her brain tried to find a way to rationalize everything so that it was okay to be doing this, she felt Angel's hand on her chin, tilting her head up until she was gazing directly into his eyes.  No fair, her brain insisted.  There was no way to form intelligent thoughts when those incredible eyes were staring down into hers.   

Her lips parted, and her tongue darted out to run across them in that nervous way that women everywhere seemed to have.  Angel took that gesture as acquiescence.  His lips crashed down onto hers, setting off a chain reaction in her body that left her dizzy with excitement.  Her lips tingled, her limbs grew weak, and every single logical reason she had for why this was a bad idea simply left her mind.  

As his lips coaxed hers open, his tongue swept into her mouth, testing and teasing and tasting every inch of her.  His mastery of her mouth left her feeling exposed and open, as if she had told him all of her secrets, but she pushed those feelings aside because she needed more.  His grip on her tightened, and one of his hands buried itself in her hair, tilting her head back farther.  Her eyes fell closed as she gave in to the sensation of his lips against hers.  The beat of the music melded with the beat of her heart, making her feel more alive, more primal, than she ever had before.

His tongue explored the depths of her mouth, and she did her best to mimic his actions with her own tongue and lips.  She was a novice at this, while he had over two centuries of experience, and it left her feeling even more unsure of herself than usual.  She could only hope that what she was doing was giving him the same sort of pleasure that he was giving her.

He pulled away from her and her eyes flew open.  She stifled a moan of regret, and was happy to see that regret mirrored in his eyes as well.  "Follow me," he said, pulling her off the dance floor and into the shadows.  

The merrily flashing lights and dots of color never penetrated the deep shadows in this corner.  It seemed quieter as well.  Nobody would notice them here—not unless they specifically knew where to look.  That gave a sort of privacy to their coupling that had been absent on the dance floor.  

Willow had one moment of clarity, one thought of, 'this is going to end badly,' and then Angel was kissing her again, his body pushing hers against the wall.  She grunted slightly at the impact, and then wound her arms around his neck, her fingers winding through hair that was much softer than she ever imagined it would be.  

She felt his knee nudging her legs apart, so she widened her stance.  His leg slipped between her own, and before she knew what was going on, he was rubbing it at the apex of her thighs.  A warm tingle spread through her body as his knee came into contact with her clit, despite the layers of clothes separating them, and a soft moan escaped her lips as he gave her a rough massage that left her lightheaded with pleasure.

"Oh, god, that's so good," she mumbled senselessly, thrusting her hips to meet him.  

"Tell me what you're feeling," he commanded, his lips moving to her neck, biting and nipping at the skin as he worked his way down to the hollow of her throat.  She could feel his tongue against her skin, licking her as if she were ice cream.

"I..." Sudden shyness overwhelmed her.  The words that she wanted to say to him should not be said by good girls.  And Willow had always prided herself on being good.  Even as she rode his leg like a cowgirl on a mechanical bull, she still thought of herself as innocent.  Pure.  Although her actions said something entirely different.

"Tell me," he insisted, as his hand pushed the straps of her dress from her shoulders.  There was an urgency to his movements now; an urgency that she echoed as she moved against him.

"It tingles--and--and it burns.  It's like I'm on fire wherever you touch me."

He pushed the dress down to her hips, and the strapless bra as well, cupping her breast in his hand.  She gasped at the coldness of his touch, and then again when his thumb slid over her nipple.  

"More?" he asked, although she wasn't sure whether he was asking her to tell him more, or asking if she wanted more.

"I'm drowning in you," she confessed.  "You're all I see, all I smell, all I feel..." she stopped suddenly, taking in a quick breath as he rolled her nipple between his fingers, applying just enough pressure to wrest a strangled gasp from her.  "It all feels so good."

Gone was her earlier embarrassment.  Now all she wanted to do was tell him exactly how good this felt.  It didn't seem like there were enough words in the English language for her to say everything she needed to, though.  

"Tell me what to do?" she asked uncertainly, seeking his eyes with her own.  

It felt like she was drowning in chocolate when she fell into his gaze.  "You're doing fine," he assured her, his voice rough with lust.  "Just close your eyes..."

She obeyed immediately, and then groaned in disappointment when she felt the leg that was teasing her sex suddenly disappear.  The sound of his zipper being pulled down filled her senses, and she knew what would happen next.  

He tore her underwear until it no longer impeded his progress, lifted her slightly, and then she felt his penis against her nether lips.  Her hand reached down to feel it, her innate sense of curiosity kicking in.  'So soft,' she thought, surprised that it could be so hard, and yet so pliable at the same time.

As he pushed into her, her hand dropped away, reaching for his neck, so that she could pull his mouth down to cover hers.  And when he broke through her maidenhead his mouth devoured her small cry of pain.

It hadn't really hurt; everything she had heard had led her to expect something sharp and painful, but it had been more like a dull ache, quickly forgotten in the rush of an exciting new experience.  She rocked her hips against his experimentally, discovering the way that the different angles of penetration made her feel.  When she stilled her movements, Angel began a series of slow, deep thrusts that made the pain disappear, excitement trailing in its wake.  With each lunge, she felt something inside her building towards a climax.  After each thrust she thought she couldn't feel any better, and then the next one proved her wrong.  

Soon Angel picked up speed, pistoning in and out of her and whispering words to her each time their hips slammed together.  "God, you're so hot.  So sweet, you make me want to consume you."

Her breathless moans and an occasional whimper were all the response she could give at the moment.  Everything else simply overwhelmed her.

"Need to taste you," he hissed.  

Her eyes flew open at his words.  The face of the demon greeted her, a face full of long fangs, yellow-flecked eyes and prominent ridges, and yet he was still handsome, in spite of it all.  She shuddered as she realized what he was asking her.  She just wasn't sure if she could do it.

"I..."

He struck while she was still trying to find the words to respond, and she felt the sharp pain of his fangs as they tore into her neck.  The pain was tremendous, as he pushed deeper with both his cock and his mouth, pulling in mouthfuls of her blood in time with his thrusts.  The pain began to mix with the pleasure he was giving her, and suddenly she came, her body exploding in orgasm, her mind amazed that something so primal, so natural, could feel so good.

She felt her walls constricting around his cock, and then felt him come as well, emptying one vital essence into her while he stole another one.  

It didn't occur to her immediately that something had gone wrong.  At first she was just filled with a sense of joy and wonder at the way she was feeling.  But then things started to get fuzzy—in her mind, and around the edges of her vision.  It took her precious seconds to realize that he was still drinking from her.  That he hadn't stopped after his orgasm.  

That he was going to kill her.

Post-coital bliss gave way to pre-death panic.  With every bit of energy she had left, she tried to push him away from her with shaking hands, but instead of gaining her freedom, she found herself pinned to the wall, her hands held high above her head.  A warning growl came from the vampire as he continued drinking from her, his other hand clamping itself over her mouth to keep her from screaming.  She whimpered, tried to shake her head, stamp her foot, *anything* to get him off of her, but it was no use.

Ever since she had met Buffy, she had known that she would find death at the hands of a vampire.  She just never pictured it quite like this...

"Sorry to interrupt your evening meal, but I think--YOU?!?"  

Willow never got to hear the rest of Buffy's quip, which was a shame, because she figured it was probably going to be a good one.  Instead, she slid to the floor as her friend pulled Angel off of her.  In the sudden silence that followed, Willow watched as Buffy stared dumbfounded at the tableau before her.

Angel was gazing at her curiously, but there was nothing on his face other than that, and perhaps a hint of confusion.  He kept a watchful eye on her hands, his body tensed as if waiting for a stake to suddenly appear.  

"How could you do this?" she asked finally, giving them both a glimpse of her eyes, rapidly filling with tears.

The guilt in Willow’s eyes dashed Buffy’s last hope—that somehow this had been all Angel’s doing, that Willow hadn’t betrayed her.  Some part of her wondered whether it would hurt less to have a boyfriend who was a rapist, as opposed to a friend who had willingly had sex with said boyfriend.

In a stark contrast to Willow’s guilt, Angel seemed surprised, almost amused, by her question.  "You're kidding, right?  How could I resist her? So sweet, innocent, and just dying to be fucked.  Literally," he added with a smirk.  “If you want, I can do you next,” he added with a suggestive leer, fisting his cock once and then tucking it back into his pants.  His eyes on were on Buffy, waiting warily for her response.

Willow cringed at the words, the dismissive tone of his voice almost as disturbing as what he was saying.  She had been nothing to him but an innocent to be defiled, a meal to be eaten.  A McWillow with a side of fries.  The thought filled her with despair.  She stared at the floor, wishing that some sort of hellmouthy floor-demon would eat her, so that she wouldn’t ever have to face either of them again.

"What's the--" Xander's greeting was stopped short as he took in the scene before him.  "Oh, don't tell me this is what I think it is," he muttered, rushing to Willow's side.  He pulled her to her feet, adjusting her clothes without looking at her, until he had restored her to a semblance of decency.  She didn’t resist his efforts, merely teetering precariously against him as he worked.  

"What are you waiting for?  Are you going to stake Angel already, or do you want me to do it for you?" he asked angrily, glaring at Buffy, half a dozen ‘I told you so’s’ trembling on the tip of his tongue.  

For the first time that evening Angel seemed more than just curious…he looked almost shocked.  But he pulled himself together quickly and snapped back, "The name's Angelus, boy, although you'll be dead before you get the chance to use it again."  The vampire took a step towards Xander and Willow, but Buffy stepped between them, a stake materializing in her hand as if by magic.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Four heads whipped around to see Angel standing behind Buffy, dressed in a white t-shirt and black pants, and looking as confused as they were.

Xander gibbered as he looked at one Angel, and then the other.  "What...who...would someone explain to me how I suddenly fell into an episode of the Twilight Zone?" he finally yelped.

"Oh, me too, I'd like to know too," Willow agreed, before fainting and sliding to the floor.

When Willow fainted, several things happened almost simultaneously.

Xander yelped, and then bent down and tried to stir Willow to consciousness. When that failed, he attempted to pull her to her feet; if she were upright, then she’d have to wake up. At least, that seemed to be his reasoning. Willow apparently wasn’t in on the plan, though, because she continued to hang limply in his arms.

Angel’s eyes were drawn, without conscious intent, to the trickle of blood that still dribbled from one of the puncture marks on her neck. His outward appearance was one of calm concern, but inside his demon raged for control. It smelled its own scent on her, and demanded to finish the job that Angelus had started.

“Get your eyes off her neck,” Xander demanded, and the accusing look in Buffy’s eyes said something similar, although she remained silent.

“She needs to get to the hospital,” Angel reminded them.

“Well she’s not going there with you,” Xander shot back. “You’ve done enough damage tonight.”

Angel seemed to shake himself out of his distraction at those words, and anger replaced the stunned surprise in his eyes. “That wasn’t me, you idiot. That was—” he glanced towards the spot where Angelus had stood just a moment before, and was disappointed to see that his doppelganger had managed to slip away undetected. “Shit,” he groaned.

Buffy’s gaze followed his. “Damn,” she swore quietly.

Xander understood their concern, but his priorities were slightly different. “Okay, the “bad” vampire is gone, but Willow’s still here bleeding to death, so could you two crazy kids help me get her to the hospital?” Panic was beginning to edge out the anger in his voice.

“I suppose an offer to carry her would not be welcome at this point?” Angel asked, although he didn’t know why he bothered. It was like setting himself up for an insult. And sure enough, Xander didn’t disappoint him.

“You suppose right, blood breath. You watch out for your buddy. Buffy, could you help me with…” he gestured to Willow.

It was clear that Buffy wanted to argue with him because of his obvious animosity towards Angel, but one look at his face told her that it would be a useless gesture. So she picked up her friend, slung her over her shoulder, and made her way to the door as quickly and unobtrusively as she could. The bartender gave them a curious glance as they left, but Buffy merely muttered, “She had a little too much to drink,” and received an understanding nod in reply.

The hospital was only a couple of blocks from the Bronze, a fact that Buffy had never really appreciated until now. Willow was a dead weight against her shoulder, still displaying no signs of consciousness, and Buffy was starting to share in a bit of Xander’s earlier panic.

Angel walked on her left, while Xander stayed on her right, and nobody said a word. The tension was thick in the air, and a careless word could easily be the spark that would send their tempers flaring. There would be plenty of time for angry accusations later; for now, getting Willow to safety had to be their priority.

When they reached the hospital parking lot Angel stopped. “Willow’s lost a lot of blood, but she’s going to be fine,” he told them. “I think it’s better that I’m…elsewhere when she wakes up, so I’m going to look for some answers.” He didn’t wait for a reply before turning and walking in the direction of the nearest cemetery.

“Be careful,” Buffy called after his retreating form, while Xander merely rolled his eyes and began heading towards the doors that marked the entrance to the emergency room.

Buffy watched Angel for a moment, and then turned and followed Xander.

They had used the ‘angry puppy’ excuse and nobody had even questioned them. It was frightening how easily—and how often—they could get away with that story. Admittedly, the personnel turnover at the hospital was high enough that they rarely encountered the same nurse or doctor twice, but even so, it was a sad commentary on the town that they lived in.

Giles had been called, and was on his way. Since Willow’s parents were rarely in town, the Englishman had long ago been established as Willow’s uncle—at least as far as the hospital was concerned. Sometimes he also doubled as Xander’s uncle, since the boy’s parents were usually too drunk or apathetic to take care of their only child.

As the minutes ticked by, Buffy and Xander sat in the waiting room. Stale sitcoms from the tiny TV, and even staler coffee, were their only companions. They sat silently and waited for word of their friend. Neither thought Willow’s blood-loss would be life threatening, but their wait was filled with tension nonetheless.

Every few minutes Buffy had a brief flash of Willow and who she thought at the time had been Angel, and the picture wasn’t pretty. They had obviously just had sex, and from the look of it the sex had been consensual. A quick scream would have been enough to bring Willow the attention of over a dozen people. But she had stayed silent. Which meant that Willow thought she had been having sex with Angel.

Buffy’s Angel.

Oh, sure, they had never had any sort of formal agreement, she and Angel. But many times she and Willow had stayed up all night just talking about him, and how Buffy was beginning to feel about him. The fact that Willow had thrown her friend’s feelings aside so easily hurt her in a way that she was unable to articulate. Usually when she felt like this, it was easiest to just hit something and get the poisonous feelings out of her system. But now, with Willow down the hall in a hospital room, being tested and prodded by doctors and nurses, Buffy felt stifled. Later, she would lash out physically and make the demon population pay for her pain. For now, she had to suffer in silence.

And there was still the mystery of this ‘Angelus’ to solve…

Xander, on the other hand, seemed to have almost no feelings at all. His mind drifted idly from scene to scene, unable to connect any of those scenes to an emotion. He knew he should be feeling something. Fear, confusion, apprehension, anger…he knew, in some detached way, that any one of those would be valid choices. But instead he merely sat silently next to Buffy, waiting.

He must have drugged her, that Angel who wasn’t Angel. He probably strolled in, saw her sitting there, alone, and bought her a drink. A drink laced with heavy narcotics. And Willow, being Willow, had drunk it without question. And then, when the evil fiend began to put the moves on her, Willow probably hadn’t even noticed.

The idea that maybe Willow had been a consenting participant, fully conscious of the decision she was making, crossed Xander’s mind for only a moment, before crossing right back out. He was much happier in his fantasy world.

Angelus burst from the club, heading straight for his mansion. He felt a small bit of regret at leaving in such a hurry—practically sneaking away—but pushed it aside. The redhead had been a tasty treat, but certainly not worth being staked over. Even now, it seemed unreal to him that he had managed to leave without being harmed. He had been faced with a Slayer, and another copy of himself, and had come out unscathed.

Now, if he could just figure out what in the hell was going on. It must've had something to do with his idiot childe Xander. In fact…

The very last thing he remembered was being in the mansion with Xander, torturing that luscious Vengeance Demon. Amy? No—Anya. Normally he would have steered clear of such a creature. They were dangerous, especially when cornered. But Xander had brought her home, and she had begged them to help her find her power center. She had promised great things for them if they did.

Angelus was smart enough to realize an opportunity when he stumbled across one. It just happened that it was not the one that Anya thought she was offering him. This opportunity—to torture and kill a Vengeance Demon—was much more appealing than whatever nebulous promises *she* might make.

She had screamed for days, entertaining them with her body, her cries, and her curses. And then Xander had to go and push it too far. He had accidentally killed her while he was fucking her, the damned idiot. Angelus had watched the light leave her eyes as if a switch had been flipped. One minute she was glaring at him angrily and the next moment all that remained was an empty, broken body.

The next thing Angelus knew, he was standing across town, outside of the Bronze, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Angelus had eaten enough science fiction writers to know about alternate universes. And he was beginning to wonder if that had anything to do with what was going on now. It would certainly explain his double, although it did absolutely nothing to explain why he was friends with the Slayer. And then there was that other Xander—human, but just as stupid as the vampire version.

That sweet little girl—he wished he had a name to go with that pixie face—must have known his double. Quite well, judging by what she had allowed him to do to her. In spite of the uncertainty of his situation, Angelus felt his lips curve into a rakish smile as he remembered the way she had felt against him, as he had plundered her body and her blood.

He stood outside the mansion on Crawford Street, wondering uneasily what would await him inside. If he was, indeed, in an alternate universe, this might not even be his house any longer. Heavy drapes covered the windows, but he saw several places where slivers of light escaped. Obviously a few lights were lit within, leading him to believe that *someone* was living there. But was it his childe? Or was his double living in this place? Or was someone else altogether calling the mansion home now?

Well, he could stand out here until the morning sun turned him into his own funeral pyre. Or he could open the door and attempt to stroll in as if he owned the place. If he wasn’t able to enter the residence, that would answer one question immediately, but leave him with dozens of others.

Taking a deep breath, Angelus put his hand on the doorknob and turned it, pushing the door open easily. The fact that it was not even locked left him optimistic. If a human had lived here, the door would probably have been locked. He walked inside, relieved to find that no barrier impeded his progress.

A quick look around the foyer and parlor told him that although this was the house he remembered, some things *had* changed. Furniture, most of it covered with sheets or plastic, was placed haphazardly, as if it had been covered and forgotten long ago. The heavy scents of neglect and decay hung in the air, mixed with the scent of his childe’s fear.

“Xander?” he growled angrily as he prowled from one room the next, “What the hell did you do to us?”

Angelus finally found his childe in the room that had always been his, sitting on the bed, his blank stare focused on an unfamiliar armoire that covered the wall where he used to hang his whips, shackles, and various other toys. When Angelus entered the room, the younger vampire’s gaze swung to track his progress, but he said nothing.

“You just had to go and kill her, didn’t you?” Angelus finally spat, giving Xander that same look of disgust that he’d given him a thousand times before.

“You think she did it?” he asked, his body anticipating a blow that hadn’t fallen yet. “What did she do? And how? She didn’t have her power center anymore. She shouldn’t have been able to do anything at all.”

Angelus shrugged. “How the hell should I know? And let me tell you, more has changed than just the furniture.” He began pacing. Thinking accompanied by motion always seemed to produce better results. “The whole world is different.” He said it as a statement, even though he didn’t know it to be a fact. The other vampire wouldn’t dare to contradict him, either way.

Xander’s eyes flecked with gold as he jerked nervously to his feet. “Different how?”

“Different people, different buildings—remember that place in the warehouse district that used to be a huge vampire party, with hot and cold running blood all day and all night? Well the humans own it now.” He stopped pacing for a moment as a thought occurred to him. “Not really so different, I suppose. Still hot and cold running blood. You just have to be a bit more careful about getting it.” His tongue tingled as he remembered the taste of the blood he had enjoyed that night.

“What do we do now?”

Angelus considered the question for a moment. “Nothing just yet,” he decided. “I want to get a bit more information before I make a plan of action. And don’t go out until tomorrow night—I’ve got a couple of other things to tell you. You’re not going to believe it when you hear who I ran into tonight…”

Willow returned to consciousness in bits and pieces, nightmarish scenes of pain and betrayal chasing her to wakefulness.  

When she opened her eyes, nothing seemed familiar, and she thrashed against the bits of plastic that seemed to hold her in place.  

“Willow!  Stop it.  Please.  You’re pulling out the I.V.”

She heard Giles’ voice and it calmed her slightly, convincing her to stop moving.  When she inspected the tubes coming out of her arm, everything came back to her at once.

Angel asking her to dance, kissing her, touching her in ways that went far beyond anything that had ever transpired between them before.  Making love to her—no, she thought with dismay—fucking her.  Bitterness filled her mind.  Making love was something done between two people in love.  The person who had fucked her had simply been scratching an itch, having a little appetizer before dinner.

It hadn’t been Angel.  The name had been Angelus.  She frowned as that most painful memory came back to her.

“Angelus,” she said aloud, tasting the name, listening to the way it sounded on her bitter lips.

“I’m sorry, what was that?  Did you say...Angelus?”  Giles knew the name, of course.  Any Watcher would.  Angelus was the demon Angel had been—before receiving the soul, of course.  The fact that it was the first word to come out of Willow’s mouth disturbed him greatly.

Xander had called Giles the previous evening, his voice flat and tight, and insisted that he rush down to Sunnydale General.  From the tone of the boy’s voice, Giles knew it was serious.  Although not, apparently, life-threatening.  

After talking briefly with Buffy and Xander, he suspected that there was something the pair were trying to hide from him.  Their explanation that Willow had been nearly drained by a vampire was believable, but extremely lacking in details.  How had the vampire gotten to her, for instance, when she was supposed to be with them, at the Bronze?

And why had ‘Angelus’ been the first word out of Willow’s mouth just now?

He had convinced Xander and Buffy to go home a couple of hours ago, assuring them that the minute Willow woke up, he would call them.  And yet now that those sleepy green eyes were open, he found himself strangely reluctant to pick up the phone.  He knew he should question her first, just so that he could find out more of the information that Buffy and Xander had been so obviously reluctant to share with him.

Willow’s eyes widened at his question.  It seemed obvious to Giles that she had not realized she had said the name aloud.  

“Was Angelus responsible for your attack?” he asked her, sitting down on the small folding chair next to the bed.  

Willow nodded, and something incredibly sad flared in her eyes, dying quickly underneath his assessing gaze.

“So Angel’s soul is gone,” Giles mused unhappily.  That explained why Xander and Buffy had been so brief in their description of how Willow had become injured.  

Giles had to admit to a bit of regret.  It wasn’t that he was particularly fond of the vampire, and Buffy’s preoccupation with him had certainly made him more than a little nervous.  But having an ally, an inside man, who could give them the vampire perspective...that had been a valuable weapon in their fight against evil.

Willow shook her head as vehemently as she was able, slowing her movements slightly when she saw Giles’ concern.  “No, Angel’s soul is still secure.  Angelus is...someone else.”

“Someone else?  A—a separate entity altogether?”  At her nod, he couldn’t help but add, “Fascinating.”  

When the girl merely rolled her eyes, Giles realized his error.  “Oh, not fascinating in any sort of desirable way.  Just...this is something I will need to make note of in my journal.”

He realized that he wasn’t helping his case, so he shook his head and laid a gentle hand on her temple.  “How are you feeling?  Is there anything I can get you?”

She smiled at him and shook her head, but then her eyes lit up as something occurred to her.  “A book?  Could you get me something to read?  I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but I’m sure I’ll need something to keep me from being bored.  Or—oh, if Buffy or Xander could get me homework, that would be even better.”

Ever the student, this one was.  She would make an excellent Watcher someday, if she could learn to curb her tendency to get too emotionally involved.  If not, the Watchers Council always needed scholars.  Someone who was as smart and driven to seek knowledge as she was would never be unemployed.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised.  “Now, I assured Buffy and Xander that I would call as soon as you were awake, so I’ll go and do that now.  You close your eyes and get some rest; I’m sure that by the time you wake again, they will be here.  And then you won’t get any sleep for quite some time, I’m sure.”

Willow smiled wistfully at his words, although she knew that the discussions she had to look forward to with Buffy and Xander would probably be anything *but* enjoyable.  Instead of dwelling on it, she made quite a show of closing her eyes and pretending to sleep.  Giles smiled at the girl, even though she couldn’t see it, and left the room, letting the door swing closed behind him.

He was halfway to the pay phone when the doctor caught up with him.  “You’re Willow’s guardian?” the young man asked, his gaze cool and assessing.

“Yes,” Giles admitted cautiously, the look he gave the young doctor equally appraising.  “Is there something about her of which I should be aware, Doctor...?”

“Doctor Thompson.”  The man shuffled his feet uneasily, looking at Giles and then looking away.  

A gentle touch would work best, Giles decided.  “I promise you, Doctor Thompson, I have only Ms. Rosenberg’s best interests at heart.  If there’s something I should know, I would greatly appreciate it if you told me what it was.”  He used concern to reel the man in, making his face as friendly as possible.

“Well,” the doctor hesitated.  “I just think that someone should be aware of this, because Ms. Rosenberg is so young.  And since you’re a family member...”

Giles nodded, and waited.

Clearing his throat, the doctor let the words out in one quick rush.  “It looks as if Ms. Rosenberg had engaged in sexual intercourse just prior to her admittance to the hospital.”  

Giles didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.  The look of shock on his face was quickly masked, but the doctor saw his stunned horror nonetheless.  

“We don’t think she was raped,” Dr. Thompson rushed to assure him.  “From all indications, this was a purely consensual encounter.  The only evidence of violence against her body were the two marks made by the...angry puppy.”  His voice stumbled over the last two words, as if he had trouble believing the validity of their claim, but didn’t have anything better to replace it with.

Giles barely managed to mutter the words, “Thank you, Dr. Thompson,” as he turned away.  His initial thought, to call Xander and Buffy and tell them to get to the hospital immediately, had been replaced by another idea.  

It would be best to see them separately, he decided.  Each would be more likely to tell him the truth if they didn’t have the moral support of the other.  Buffy should be first, then Xander.  She would give the most detailed account.  Xander would probably have his own spin on the event; the things he noticed were unusual, but sometimes important.  

Finding out what really happened would be a matter of putting the two stories together.  The truth would probably be somewhere in between.

Angelus had spent a busy night.  After leaving Xander with instructions to stay inside and put some order to the damn place, the elder vampire had gone out to hunt.  First for food, and then for information .

Some idiot teenager, too stupid or drunk to run from a vampire, satisfied his first need.  It was good to know that the humans here were just as stupid as the ones in his world.  At least some things hadn't changed.

His second need was equally easy to satisfy.  Willy’s, Angelus was happy to see, was still the local demon dive.  Although he was rather disgusted at the reception he received when he walked in.

A vampire sat at the bar, in full game face, growling at him.  When Angelus didn’t do anything, the vampire got to his feet and stood before him.  Angelus could tell by his scent that he was only a decade old, at most.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he barked out, surprised that the young vampire didn’t immediately fall to his knees in fear.

Instead, the little runt had the temerity to challenge him.  “We don’t want your kind here, with your bleeding soul and your do-gooder ways,” he declared, looking around the bar to see if anyone would stand with him against Angelus.  “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here; especially without your little Slayer bitch to protect you.”

The word ‘soul’ had caught Angelus’ attention, although he made sure no one else was aware of that.  It certainly explained a couple of things about this ‘Angel’ character, though.  Like how he could be friends with the Slayer without wanting to puke.  

He could feel dozens of eyes on him now, so he quickly roused himself from his thoughts and decided his next move.  The bar was about half full, and nobody was doing anything but watching this showdown between a young vampire and the vampire that they thought had helped to kill their kind.

Willy stood behind the bar, his gaze moving uneasily between his patrons and the cause of their anger.  He saw the potential for a fight of epic proportions, and wanted to make sure that if there *was* going to be a fight, it happened outdoors.  He didn’t have the money to replace the furniture.  Again.

“Angel?  Maybe—it might be better if—you know—you took things outside?”  

The nervous human’s voice brought a cruel smile to Angelus’ face.  He could see he would have to prove himself to these demons.  Obviously, they thought he was that other version of himself.  Time to have some fun…

“The name’s Angelus, Willy.  Don’t you forget it.  Now bring me your freshest virgin.  A blonde, if you can.  I’ve got a little something to prove here.”

The vampire who stood before him glared at him suspiciously.  “This is a trick,” he declared loudly, glancing at his fellow demons, hoping to incite them to violence.  “He’s softening us up, so the Slayer can come in and finish us off.  Are we gonna let him stand there and do this, or are we going to take him out, now, and send his ashes to the Slayer in a spittoon?”

There was a growing rumble of agreement among many of the demons in the room, but the name ‘Angelus’ still held some significance to the older ones, and those held their peace, cautiously waiting to see what would happen.  Demons didn’t live long these days if they didn’t learn to be careful.  It was a lesson some learned quickly, and others never had a chance to learn at all.

Angelus’ gaze was calm as it swept the room, but the smart ones in the crowd knew that that only meant trouble.  The Angelus they remembered, or had heard about in legends, had a temper, but kept it tightly under control until it was needed.  Then he would let it out to play in a hot rush, and entire villages would be burned to the ground with the heat of its fire.

“I don’t need the Slayer to take care of a little pissant like you,” he said calmly, reaching out quickly to twist off the head of the vampire before any of them could see it coming.  The body burst into dust, and Angelus wiped his hands on the jacket of another patron, everything about him daring this second vampire to object.

When no challenge was forthcoming, Angelus relaxed slightly, leaning against the bar with an exaggerated elegance, as if he were among friends.  “Willy? Where’s my virgin?” he yelled.

Willy emerged slowly from the back room, dragging the body of a blonde cheerleader type who had obviously been snacked on by half a dozen of the bar’s guests.  Inwardly, Angelus growled at the unworthiness of the offering, but mindful of the patrons at the bar, he merely nodded his thanks as Willy thrust the girl into his arms, and then smiled as her head rolled back, exposing the column of her neck as if in invitation.

She might have been pretty, if it weren’t for the bruises on her pale cheeks and throat, or the multitude of scabs on her neck, evidence of sloppy feeders.  Still, Angelus was sure that she was the best that Willy had to offer.  The man knew better than to bring out anything but his finest.

Angelus tore into her neck, sending a spray of blood in every direction.  The wound was messy, and the manner in which he fed was not so much for sustenance, but to declare dominance.

“Now,” he said, lifting his head so that they could all see the blood dripping from his sharp fangs, “I think it’s time we established some ground rules.  Everyone in this little burg needs to know that there’s a new Master in town.”

A cautious cheer rose from the patrons; Sunnydale’s demon population had barely been holding its own against the Slayer and her kind.  Tonight, maybe, the tide would begin to turn in their favor again.  United behind Angelus, they hoped that evil would once again rule this town.

To Giles, getting the truth out of Buffy and Xander had been—pardon the pun—child’s play.  He had, in times past, interrogated fearless demons and sleazy, slippery human.  All of those experiences had taught him techniques to catch other people in their lies and break down the walls that they hid their truths behind.

But with Buffy and Xander, it had merely been a matter of asking the correct questions, and then watching them trip over their lies.  Certainly not fun, and not much of a challenge, either.

Not that he could blame them for lying to him; friendship and loyalty meant everything to the young, and he was sure that they thought they were doing exactly what Willow would want.  But Giles knew that such reasoning was faulty.  The truth had to come out, and it had to come out now, before Angelus had a chance to harm Willow further.

“So,” he said to Buffy, after his Slayer had given him a brief—and fairly incomplete—outline of the evening, “at what point in this little drama did Willow have sex with Angelus?”

He tried not to laugh out loud when her mouth fell open and her eyes opened wide, and then narrowed to thoughtful slits.  Her reaction told him everything he needed to know.  All he had to do now was go fishing for details.

“Why on earth would you think she had sex with Angelus?  ‘Cuz that’s just...that’s just crazy talk.”

Time to go in for the kill, Giles thought.  “Because that’s what Xander told me,” he said, with such certainty in his voice that she never even questioned his lie.  He hadn’t talked to Xander—yet—but there was no way that Buffy could know that.  Not for sure.  

“That little weasel,” she growled, flashing him a look of irritation before looking around the library and ignoring him.  “So if you’ve heard it all from him, why are you asking me?”

He had an easy answer ready for that one.  “Because I was hoping for a more...impartial, less emotional version than what Xander gave me.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, and then nodded.  “He’s not terribly impartial when it comes to vampires.  Or Willow, for that matter.  Put the two together and...” she threw her hands up in the air in an effort to simulate an explosion, “kabloo-ie.”

After that it was easy to get Buffy to give a less edited version of what had happened that evening.  Giles listened carefully, cataloging the details in his mind for later scrutiny.  

Xander’s account had been essentially the same, although he seemed determined to hang onto his theory that Angelus had drugged Willow, despite evidence to the contrary.  Giles nodded encouragingly, but didn’t believe a word of it.  No drugs of any kind had been found in Willow’s system; from all accounts she had been suffering from blood loss, and nothing more.

As he said good-bye to Xander, the boy leaving the library with a deep sigh of relief, Giles wondered what he could do with this information, now that he had it.

Willow tried to hide her apprehension as she watched Buffy and Xander enter her hospital room.  She had known that it would only be a matter of time before they came to visit her, and was grateful that at least she had had the chance to rest a little before facing their accusing glares and questions she did not want to answer.

So maybe her imagination had overacted a little bit; Buffy didn’t look at her like she hated her, and Xander wasn’t giving her that disapproving look that she had expected.  But neither of them looked particularly happy, either.

“Hi,” she offered nervously, as Xander took a fold-up chair and put it next to the one that Buffy was already settling herself on.  

“Hey, Willow,” came Xander’s somewhat awkward reply.  

The way Buffy looked at her made Willow want to hide under the bed and stay there for a week.  The uncertainty in her eyes was distressing.  Would they be able to get past this?

They sat in silence for a moment, each afraid to make the first move.  Willow cracked first, licking her lips nervously and breaking out into speech.

“I’m sorry.  I know I shouldn’t have done what I did.  But...you don’t understand how it is, Buffy.  Guys fall for you all the time.  All you have to do is crook your finger and they come running, ready to open a door for you, or carry your books or...whatever.

“But—but nobody ever really notices me.  Oh, sure, they notice me if they want a study buddy, or if they need answers to a test question, or...or an alibi.”  She was gratified to see the slightly guilty looks that Buffy and Xander both wore.  And yet, it was not her intention to make them feel guilty; she simply wanted them to understand.  When she continued, her voice was softer, gentler.  “They never look at me like they look at you.  And I guess I just got caught up in the fact that somebody thought I was beautiful.  I’m sorry, I really am.  I knew you liked Angel, and I should have pushed him away, but for a moment I wanted to be you.  To know what it felt like to have someone look at me that way.”

The moment was awkward.  She knew that Buffy wanted to understand—wanted to forget that any of this had ever happened.  But it *had* happened, and no matter what she said, it would probably take Buffy a while to trust her again.  At least, where Angel was concerned.

“I’m sorry, Willow.  I didn’t realize you felt that way.  It’s just—if it had been with anyone but Angel...” Buffy trailed off unhappily, her lower lip quivering slightly.

Willow nodded, tears shimmering in her eyes.  “I know it was wrong, Buffy.  That you have...feelings for Angel.  I should have respected that, regardless of what he was doing to me.  Although, I guess it really wasn’t him.  But that’s not the point.”  She sighed, closing her eyes briefly, before opening them and staring at Buffy.  “If I had it to do over again, I’d do it differently.  But I don’t.  So I guess all I can say is that I’m sorry, and that I hope you can forgive me.”

She and Buffy shared a moment of understanding.  It would be okay; she could see that in her friend’s eyes.  The damage to their friendship was definitely repairable, although there would probably be awkward patches as they rebuilt trust.  But ultimately, Willow could tell that it was going to be all right.  And with that knowledge, Willow relaxed and gave a quiet sigh.

Xander, on the other hand, did not seem to be on-board with the ‘forgiveness’ program.  “My god, Willow.  You act like it was a few innocent kisses.  You lost your virginity to him.  And you nearly lost your life!”  

Tension ran through Willow’s body at his accusation, and she tried to bite back the bitter words that threatened to break free.  She knew that Xander had always been a little on the judgmental side.  Usually it was directed elsewhere.  Being the sole recipient of that much disapproval was a little unnerving.  But then again, maybe she deserved it.

A dozen responses leapt to her lips, running the gamut from placating to downright cruel, but Buffy beat her to the punch.  “Xander, when you were willing to lose your virginity to a great big bug, did we yell at you?  And do you remember the time when you wanted to do the nasty with that mummy girl?  Who was it that kept me from making fun of you?  ‘Cuz you really had it coming—you know that, right?”

Willow could see that Xander’s left eye was doing that twitchy thing that it often did before he exploded into petulance, so she hastened to lighten the mood.  “Xander, I know I made a mistake.  I should have been a little more careful.  But it’s over, and all’s well that ends well, right?  Nobody got hurt—at least, not in any permanent way, so let’s just get past it.”  

Xander looked at her and sighed, and then reached out a hand to grasp the one she was resting on top of the blanket.  “It’s just—seeing you like that, with the blood and the vampire and fangs and—okay, so maybe I’m a little freaked.”  He gave her his lopsided smile, the one that never failed to wring an answering smile from his friend.  “Truce?”

Truce was made, and homework dispersed, and a little while later Buffy and Xander headed home, leaving Willow with a couple of hours worth of homework, and more than enough time to do it.  The doctor promised that he would release her in the morning, so until then she was left to her own devices.

The solitude would have been enjoyable, only it wasn’t really solitude.  Nurses wandered in and out fairly often, checking on her progress.  Unfamiliar noises would occasionally drift in from the hall, jerking Willow out of whatever she might have been thinking about at the time.

But the thing that really bothered was the feeling that there would be one more visitor tonight—the one she dreaded most.  No matter how well she tried to prepare herself, she still had no idea what she would say to Angel.

Angel slipped in quietly, as if afraid to wake her, even though she knew he could tell by the steady beat of her heart that she was wide awake.  The sound of the TV, left on for background noise, would have been another give-away.  

It was nearly midnight, and she crushed a pang of jealousy as she wondered where he had been earlier.  Had he and Buffy spent the evening together, staring into each other’s eyes and talking about Willow as if she was some poor, pitiable creature?  She wondered bitterly how she had ever believed she could compete against Buffy.

Giving herself a mental head-shake, she turned and fixed her eyes on her visitor. If it was any consolation, he looked every bit as uncomfortable as she felt.  Waiting for him to speak, she felt both their discomfort magnify until it was almost stifling.

Angel was not going to speak, so Willow broke the silence.  “Hi.”

“Willow,” Angel replied with a nod, crossing the room and looming over her.  

She motioned towards the chair, but he seemed reluctant to sit.  Instead, he began pacing the room.  Since the room was roughly the size of a small bedroom, it seemed like a silly gesture to Willow, but she let him do it.  She sensed that the motion made him feel more at ease, and didn’t want to steal that comfort away from him.

She was about to give up and go back to her homework when Angel finally stopped pacing and spoke to her.  

“I need to get some details.  Giles and I—we’re trying to figure out how this happened.  How *he* can be here.  He—Giles, that is—thinks that maybe he—Angelus—came from an alternate universe.  But we’re not sure how that could happen.  Something like this should upset—”

“The balance,” Willow interrupted eagerly.  She had been thinking about this too, in between bits and pieces of homework.  If her theory was correct, then Angelus came from a universe where he never got cursed with a soul.  “I know.  Having two of you should throw everything out of whack.  So how did he get here?  And how do we send him back?”

“Exactly,” he agreed, giving her an appraising look.  “And in order to find out as much as I can about him, I...” Angel began pacing again, his path taking him further and further away from Willow’s bed, as if hoping to distance himself from her physically and emotionally.  “I need to know what happened that night.”

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been expecting his request.  But discomfort sat like a lump in her throat as she tried to put together a recap of the evening that would give him the details he sought, while leaving out the details that neither of them wanted to contemplate.

“I saw him at the door,” she began quietly, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on her hands, which twisted uneasily in her lap.  “He was looking around.  I thought he was looking for Buffy.  But...probably not, huh?”

Silence was her only answer, so she hurried on.  “I motioned him over, and I was going to tell him that Buffy and Xander were on their way.  But when he got there, he asked me to dance, so I figured I might as well.  It was a little weird, but...I didn’t want to offend him.  So I said okay.  And then we danced.”

“He didn’t say anything?  Nothing happened that made you think he wasn’t me?”

She glanced up, catching his eyes on her before he had the chance to look away.  “He kept calling me Little Red Riding Hood.  It was kind of weird.  I guess it was because he didn’t know my name.  But at the time...”  She thought about that for a minute, feeling a little silly that she hadn’t realized the significance of it before.

“Other than that, he didn’t really say much of anything.  But—that’s not so unusual.  I mean, you don’t say much either.  So it wasn’t like some big tip-off or anything.”

“You were just dancing?  You didn’t talk at all?”

There had been a little bit of talking, but she was pretty sure that Angel wouldn’t consider the sexual banter she and Angelus had engaged in to be particularly illuminating.  “Just dancing.  And then...touching.”  Willow was convinced that all the new blood they were pumping into her was concentrated in her cheeks, because they felt hot and red and...embarrassed.  

“And that’s when you went over to where we found you?”  He did them both the favor of glossing over the touching and the sex, and everything else.

“Yeah.  We were...you know.  And then, he asked if he could...have a taste.  And I was thinking about it, well, since it was you, and—I trusted you.”  She was quiet for a moment as they both considered exactly how much she must have trusted him in order to let him do something so dangerous as sink his teeth into her throat.

“But before I had a chance to make up my mind, he bit me!”  She managed to dredge up a certain amount of indignation at that, and her eyes sparkled with a hint of the fire that they customarily held on the rare occasion that she expressed her anger.

“Then I came,” she felt her face burning again, and added quickly, “to my senses, I mean, and—and he was still feeding.  I realized something was wrong then, and I started to panic.  But it was way too late.  He just held his hand over my mouth, and by then I was pretty weak anyway, so...”

“And then Buffy showed up.”

Willow winced at the memory, but answered clearly enough.  “Yeah.  Buffy showed up.  And—I guess I should have realized that something was off about him.  He wasn’t acting like...well, like you.  He didn’t look guilty, or—or like he knew her at all, really.  Although I think that maybe he could tell she was the Slayer.  He looked at her like he expected her to attack him, and was surprised when she didn’t.”

Angel nodded, his eyes betraying the fact that his thoughts were elsewhere.  He stopped pacing abruptly and turned away from her, gazing out the window that overlooked the parking lot.  “He’ll come looking for you,” he warned.  “The demon is very territorial.  It will feel that it’s lost something that belongs to it.  It has nothing to do with love or affection, just a need to—control.  Dominate.”

“Oh,” she whispered, dismayed at the prospect.  The idea that Angelus would have any further interest in her was...disturbing.  When she worried about all the things she had yet to face as a result of her impetuous actions, seeing Angelus again wasn’t something she had even considered.

“Make sure Buffy and Xander are with you whenever you’re out at night.  Don’t let yourself be an easy target.”

“Okay.”  She nodded vigorously.  “Were you able to—did you find him?  Or his hideout?  Buffy said you were looking for him.”

Angel turned from the window, staring at her as if trying to divine her intent.  “I know where he’s hiding.  Not that he’s really hiding.”  Following his own scent had felt bizarre, but he had managed it.  Even if he hadn’t been able to do that, it would have been simple enough to follow the trail of dead bodies back to their source.  Angelus wasn’t known for his restraint, after all.

Willow frowned.  “If you know where he is, why don’t you just stake him?”  By the time the words were out of her mouth, she realized that the question was more complicated than it seemed.  Staking your double would be...weird.  She wasn’t even sure that *she* could do it, if placed in that situation.  There was just something so self-destructive about it.  “Maybe Buffy could...no, that won’t work either.  Xander would stake him in a heartbeat, except that Angelus would most likely hear him coming from a mile away, and then kill him first.”  She sighed, burying her head in her hands.

Angel’s lips quirked into a smile in spite of his efforts to stay serious.  The girl really had no way to turn off her brain, he realized.  And when the brain was working, the ideas just seemed to pour straight from it, into her mouth, without any kind of filter in between.

“We can’t just stake him,” Angel told her.  “As tempting as it sounds, it would be irresponsible to stake him before we know what the possible repercussions might be.  If he is, indeed, from an alternate universe, staking him might upset some sort of balance.  What we really need right now is information.  We need to find out how he got here, and how we can send him home.”

She lifted her head from her hands and peered at him over her fingers, and then began to giggle.  “You swallowed Giles.”

Angel’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what she was talking about.

“You sounded just like him,” Willow explained, as she observed his confusion.

He wrinkled his nose at the thought, considering the words he had used.  “Well, maybe just a little,” he admitted.  

“It’s okay,” she told him, smiling.  “He treats us like adults.”

And that was what it all boiled down to, Angel realized.  They were kids, playing in the adult world of vampires and demons.  And on some level they were thrilled to be playing for such high stakes.  But sometimes, like tonight, they reaped the consequences for such an adult lifestyle.  And the results weren’t always pretty.

“Get some rest, Willow,” he murmured as he headed for the door.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Run, Willow.  Escape before it’s too late,” Xander joked as she walked into the library.  Chock full of blood and recently discharged from the hospital, Willow was feeling a lot better than she had the previous day.  She hadn’t gone to school, choosing instead to stay at home and get some real sleep, uninterrupted by nurses and noisy machines, and was now feeling more like herself.

And since she was feeling more like herself, she figured she might as well go to the library and see what was up.  Chances were pretty good that Giles had everyone looking into the ‘Angelus’ situation, and she might as well join in.

“What’s the big tragedy?” she asked, looking from Xander’s grimacing face to Buffy’s thoughtful frown.  As she watched, the frown faded, and Buffy started doing calisthenics.

“We are researching,” Giles told her as he walked out of his office and into the library.  “And these are for you,” he added, handing her a pile of old, dusty books.

“Oh, shoot, and I didn’t get anything for you,” she murmured softly, happy to see that her retort at least got Xander to crack a smile.

Willow set the books down on the table and sneezed as the dust rose from the pile.  The books bore titles like, ‘Transdimensional Summoning for Beginners,’ and ‘Fact or Fiction:  How to Tell if Your Dimension is Real.’  “Let me guess...I’m looking for ways to send Angelus back from whence he came, right?”

“You and me, but not Buffy,” Xander groused.  “And just why is that, anyway?”

Buffy stopped jogging in place for a moment and gave Xander a smirk.  “Because I get to go out and patrol,” she told him, flipping her hair back and turning away from him.  She was jogging again in an instant, knees up high, as she made her way around the room.

Giles watched her antics with amused tolerance.  “Just remember, if you run into Angelus—”

“If I run into Angelus, I should not engage him.  If I need to defend myself, I should do whatever I need to do, but don’t stake him.”  She rattled the words off as if she’d heard them a hundred times before, and then gave Giles a cheeky grin and a head-tilt.  “Right?”

He sighed and then nodded, watching her as she jogged towards the door and out of the library.  

The door opened again almost immediately, and Willow was surprised to see Jenny Calendar walk in.  The young teacher’s eyes flew unerringly to the bandage on Willow’s neck, and a calculating expression crossed her face as she looked at each of the other occupants of the library.   

Giles cleared his throat, a nervous habit that he seemed to be falling prey to more and more often in Ms. Calendar’s presence.  “May I help you?” he asked.

The woman continued to stare at Willow’s neck for a moment, ignoring Giles entirely.  “Another wild animal attack?” she asked dryly.  

Willow’s gaze flickered to Giles for a moment, wondering exactly how she should respond.  

Giles took the unspoken cue and answered the question for her.  “It was—uh—an angry puppy.  Willow was playing with it, and it got—just a bit too excited.  It bit her rather deep, and wouldn’t let go until someone pulled it away.  She did lose a fair amount of blood, so the doctors thought that she should probably stay the night for observation.”

Ms. Calendar raised an elegant eyebrow at Giles’ rather elaborate explanation.  She seemed to be expecting something more, but as the moments ticked by, nobody added anything to the account.  “A hungry puppy with a taste for human flesh?” she asked, disbelief lingering in the depths of her eyes.  “Are people still buying that?  I swear, I’d find it easier to believe in a vampire than I would that story!”

Willow took a sharp breath, her gaze shooting from Giles to Jenny, and then back to Giles again.  Xander’s eyes seemed to be following a similar path.  Giles was staring at Jenny, who seemed utterly unconcerned by the drama she was causing.  

“What exactly are you suggesting, Miss Calendar?”  His voice was calm, but Willow could see something swimming in the depths of his eyes that reminded her of a warrior, waiting to attack.  

“I’m suggesting, Mister Giles, that you are lying.  That Willow was most definitely *not* bitten by a puppy, and that she was—in fact—bitten by a vampire.  I’ve got to admit, I’m pretty surprised to see that she lived through the experience.  Most people don’t.”

Stunned silence greeted her pronouncement.  Giles was the first one to shake away his shock.  “Vampires?  Are you—what in the world are you talking about?  That’s just preposterous.”

Jenny faced him, hands on her hips, excitement burning in her eyes.  “I’ve seen enough of what goes on in this town to know that vampires are real.  You know it.  I know it.  Willow *obviously* knows it.”  She gave Willow an apologetic look.  “I’m sorry, Willow, but your librarian is being a bit of a pain.”

“He’s not really *my* librarian,” she replied uncertainly.  “He sort of came with the school.”

“That all is beside the point,” Giles interrupted.

“And just what is the point, exactly?” Xander asked.  “I mean, if Ms. Calendar here wants to help us, then I say ‘go for it.’  The more the merrier, you know?”

“You just want her to help research, so you can go home and play Nintendo,” Willow snapped, glaring at her friend.  

Xander shrugged.  “Worth a shot.”

Jenny’s attention was still centered on Giles.  “I really can help you,” she said softly.  “My family—they taught me things.  About demons and vampires and Watchers and Slayers.  I toss bones, I read cards.  And I can tell that there’s been some sort of disturbance lately.  In the...” she trailed off, unable to find the word that she was looking for.

“A disturbance in the force, there is,” Xander stated, giving it his best try at a Yoda voice.

Jenny glanced at him, and then back at Giles.  “I suppose that’s a good way to describe it.  There’s something bad here, something that wasn’t here last week.  Or even a couple of days ago.”

“Angelus,” Willow whispered softly, her hand unconsciously reaching for the white gauze that covered her bite.

“Angelus?” Jenny asked sharply, turning to stare at Willow.  “But how...the curse, his soul?  How could Angelus have...” she broke off suddenly, a slightly panicked look replacing her usual serene expression.

Giles stalked towards her, moving quickly until he had backed her against the wall.  “What do you know of Angelus?  And how do you know about the curse?” he asked, his voice rough and harsh.  He grabbed her wrists in his hands and repeated his question.  “How do you know about the curse?”

Jenny blinked, and then wrenched her hands free.  She was silent for a moment, seeming to consider her options.  “I’m a gypsy,” she admitted hesitantly.  “Our clan cursed Angelus.  From the time I was a child I knew that I was...the chosen one.”  

The look on Giles’ face told them that the irony of her story wasn’t lost on him.  “Chosen for what?” he asked.

“To watch Angel,” she replied matter-of-factly.  “To make sure that he never experienced a moment of true happiness.  Because if he ever did, then the curse would be reversed, and his soul would disappear.”

Giles, Xander and Willow could do nothing except stare at her, their mouths open in shock.

“You mean, you knew, all this time, and you never said anything?” Giles asked angrily.

Jenny glared at him for a moment, and then looked elsewhere, refusing to meet his eyes.  “I had a duty to my family.  To watch.  I wasn’t supposed to become...involved.  Surely you can understand that?”

Giles looked a little ill for a moment, then nodded, taking a step back and allowing Jenny to edge away from him and towards the center of the room.

Once her personal space felt a bit more...personal, she spoke again.  “I knew that Buffy and Angel were becoming close, and I was concerned that she might be a problem down the road.  But I never expected that they would...”

Her words were interrupted when Angel walked into the library.  She stared at him, fear making her eyes widen and her movements jerky.  “Run!” she called out.

Angel merely looked confused, while the other three hastened to explain the situation to her.  

“He’s still Angel,” Xander said, although he didn’t look all that happy about the situation in general, so that just confused Jenny all the more.

“What Xander is trying to say,” Giles informed her, “is that Angelus is another entity entirely.  We essentially have one of each:  good, and evil.”

It was Angel’s turn to look confused.  “How does she know...”

“Gypsy,” Jenny explained.  “I’m a gypsy.  And I was just telling them about your curse.”

“And how it can be broken,” Giles said.  He managed to keep the sarcasm level low as he added, “Useful information for sure, and I’m very grateful that you managed to impart it to us *before* it was too late, as opposed to after.”  

They all looked a little queasy at that thought.

Angel stared at Jenny, trying to see something of the gypsies he remembered in the lines of her face.  But that had been long ago, and pain and regret had made his memory of those times fuzzy.  No matter how hard he looked, all he could see was a bright-eyed young woman, who seemed completely comfortable in the here and now.  Which, in and of itself, was rather odd, since the gypsies he remembered usually lived far in the past.

“Hi,” Jenny said nervously, still looking uncertain about Angel.  She shifted from foot to foot, her eyes traveling between his face and the door, as if assessing her chances.

Angel’s face took on that unhappy, guilty look that it did whenever he was faced with a reminder of his past.  It was clear that he wanted to apologize for his actions, but wasn’t sure if it was exactly appropriate.  

“Well, he’s not looking too happy now, so I guess we’re safe,” Xander joked, earning him a confused look from Angel.

Giles cleared his throat, calling for their attention.  “Angel, Jenny has just informed us that there is a loophole in your curse.  If you were ever to achieve a ‘moment of true happiness,’ –I believe that is the phrase she used—then your soul would vanish.  You would become Angelus again.”

“And can I just be the first to say that we do *not* need that kind of trouble right now,” Xander added.

Angel’s usually calm face looked rocked by this information.  “I—I never realized.  I don’t—I’d never want to be like that again.”  

An expression of such sorrow filled his eyes that the others could actually feel the weight of his unhappiness.

“I need to go and...think,” he said, shaking his head as he headed out the door.

“Wow, that wasn’t at all awkward.”  Xander threw the comment into the silence that followed Angel’s announcement and abrupt departure.

“Well, there’s no doubt that the news will have some serious consequences for Angel.  It’s not every day that you find out that you can never be truly happy.”  Giles’ expression turned pensive as he considered Angel’s life.  To know that you can never be truly happy...what would that do to a soul that could conceivably live forever?  The weight it would put on it could be...incalculable.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Xander said, looking around the room at the somber faces.  “Since he already knows that he can’t have true happiness, I would think that that would be enough of a bummer to keep him from ever getting too happy.  So, he just keeps on doin’ what he’s doin’, and it’s all good.”

Willow punched him in the arm, castigating him for his lack of seriousness.  “This is a really big deal, Xander.  I know you and Angel aren’t friends, but...this is still really awful for him.”

“Actually...” Jenny seemed to see some worth in Xander’s comments, and her finger tapped against her lower lip as she fell deeper into thought.  

“Yes, exactly,” Giles agreed, circling the table once before finally taking a seat.   Willow moved her pile of books to the side so that they were not in his way, then stared as Giles took off his glasses and started to polish them.

When he noticed that Willow and Xander were both staring at him, he explained.  “It’s a rather philosophical question.  Is a person who knows they will turn evil if they achieve true happiness actually capable of achieving that happiness?  Some would argue that because they know the consequences, they would never be able to be completely happy, no matter what.”  

Giles turned to give Xander an approving nod.  “You have shown unusual depth in your casual statement, Xander.  That is quite impressive.”

Xander puffed up, his expression almost comical in its smugness.  He turned to Willow and punched her on the arm, just as she had punched him a minute ago.  “Didja hear that, Will?  I’m deep.  Deepity deep.  Chock full of deep-y goodness.  So there.”

Willow looked as if her world had gone awry.  Xander was getting compliments on his brainpower?  What was the world coming to?  Was Buffy going to start actually studying during Study Hall?

“Xander, that doesn’t even make sense,” she told him, rolling her eyes for good measure.

But Xander refused to be deterred.  This was his moment in the spotlight, and he was going to make the most of it.  “I don’t have to make sense, Willow.  I’m deep.”  He gave her a pitying glance, and added, “Maybe someday you’ll understand.”

Giles and Jenny exchanged a glance that any adult could interpret in an instant, and then smiled.

Angelus stormed down the halls of the mansion, his fists punching holes in walls as he passed.  The few demons that occupied rooms in the house knew well enough to stay inside for now.  They had learned quickly to avoid the master of the house when he was in one of his moods.

Hate and anger filled his thoughts, fueling the rage that threatened to consume him from inside.  Damn that Slayer, he fumed.  Damn her to hell.  

Whenever he tried to make a minion she found out, staking the pitiable creature before it had even managed to claw its way from the earth.  The few that she missed the first time around, she generally picked off when they went hunting.  And every time he tried to entice some sweet young thing into going home with him, there she was, spoiling the game.

How many Slayers had he and Spike killed?  Several dozen, he figured, although he had long ago stopped counting.  With a pang of sadness he thought about his lost grandchilde.  He should never have left Spike and Dru there alone in Prague.  Something in that city had felt...off.  Something in the air.  Something that had made the usually cocksure Angelus uneasy about leaving.  He knew now that he should have followed his instincts, but hindsight came a bit too late, as a general rule.

Darla’s wrinkled old bastard of a sire had crooked his gnarled little finger, and she had been beside herself at the thought of keeping the Master waiting.  So he had allowed himself to be seduced away from Spike and Dru, with fatal results.

That was ancient history, though.  The here and now was what he needed to concentrate on.  And most importantly, he needed to figure out how to take care of this little Slayer problem he was having.

She seemed to be adopting a hands-off attitude towards him; even though he had made it clear that he would like a chance to see her best game, she never directly engaged him in combat.  

Oh, he had watched her kill his minions, but that was different.  Even a mediocre Slayer could do that.  What he needed to find out was whether she was just a good Slayer, or whether she was a great Slayer.

The one that killed Darla, and had died killing the Master—he thought her name had been Erin, but he couldn’t remember for sure—had been a strong, by-the-book sort of fighter.  But she had lacked the passion that one of her kind needed if they hoped to fight for long.

This Slayer, this—he cringed to even think the ridiculous name—Buffy; she was something different.  From everything that he’d heard, she was a good fighter, and a passionate one at that.  The fact that she was still alive, as opposed to just another footnote in a Watcher’s Diary, told him that the reluctant praise her skills had earned was deserved.

But the most curious thing about her appeared to be the fact that she had friends.  And not just friends, but friends who knew her secret and even helped her.

To say that this was unusual was like saying that blood was delicious.  It didn’t begin to scratch the surface of the understatement.

And you could have knocked him over with a feather when he saw that one of the Slayer’s best friends was the human version of his most recent childe.  

Turning Xander had been a whim—something to do to wile away the boring hours of a lonely night.  After Darla had died, so soon after he had lost Dru and Spike, he had felt completely abandoned.  It had seemed only natural to create someone to fill the void that their final deaths had left within him.

But he was beginning to wonder now whether the whole thing had been a mistake.  

The boy was thick as a brick, and only half as entertaining.   He had earned a position of power in their universe by riding on Angelus’ coattails.  Demons had it good in that world, and there was relatively little in-fighting or jockeying for position.  After all, if you ate well and slept well, what point was there in fighting?

But in this world, a world where Xander would have to prove himself worthy before receiving the respect of the demon community, things seemed to be a bit rougher for his new childe.  Thus far, he had spent most of his time whining about the fact that he had to go get his own dinner, instead of being able to command others to take care of the task for him.

He was not the childe Angelus had hoped he would be.

Angelus’ steps slowed and his temper cooled as he reached the parlor.  Times had changed, and most humans would now refer to the room as a living room, he supposed.  But in his mind it would always be a parlor.

Xander was sitting on the couch, frowning, as he watched some insipid TV show.  Angelus thought again with longing of the days when Spike had been newly turned.  There had been such power, such stubbornness, and such passion in the boy.  Their battles had lasted for hours, man against man, demon against demon, neither willing to submit to the other.

Sometimes he swore the only times he felt as alive as when he was fighting Spike, was when he was fucking him.

He missed every member of his family, but Spike most of all.  And young Xander was proving to be a poor substitute.

Angelus strode over to the TV, turning the thing off by kicking his booted foot into the screen.  Sparks flew, and the TV went silent, smoke curling lazily from somewhere deep inside.

Xander looked like he was about to protest, so Angelus sat on one of the wingbacked chairs, glaring the boy into silence.

“Make yourself useful, childe,” he growled, leaning back in the chair and spreading his legs.  The message was obvious, even to one as obtuse as Xander.

One thing about the boy that was satisfactory—just barely—was his ability to give head.  

Xander approached him warily, trying to gauge his mood.  When his sire growled impatiently, he moved a bit more quickly, settling himself between the other man’s legs and reaching for his zipper.  He had found out the hard way that when Angelus needed...relief, it was in Xander’s best interests to give Angelus that relief.  Quickly.

As the zipper went down, Angelus’ cock sprang free, taking on a life of its own as it bobbed in the air.  Xander bent down, taking the tip into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the head.  Angelus grunted, and the fact that it wasn’t accompanied by a swift kick told Xander that the grunt was one of approval.  Slowly, he eased his head down, relaxing his throat, until his lips wrapped around the very base of Angelus’ cock.  He had to fight back the urge to scratch as the wiry pubic hair tickled his nose.

He swallowed once, the feel of an unrelenting penetrant making his throat spasm in protest.  Apparently his sire enjoyed the sensation, though, because he grunted again, and thrust his hips up.  Well, at least one of them was enjoying this, he thought churlishly.

Xander pulled back, initiating a quick up and down motion, as over and over again he swallowed Angelus’ cock to the base.  Occasionally he would let a little fang out to play, running it lightly along the underside of the cock.  He could feel Angelus squirm when he did that, and knew that although it was slightly painful, the demon was getting off on it.

Before long, Xander felt the telltale signs of Angelus’ approaching orgasm.  On his next downward bob, he felt his sire’s seed shoot down his throat as the demon emptied himself into his mouth.  He swallowed it all down without missing a drop, his expression one of satisfaction at a job well done.

What he didn’t know—couldn’t possibly know—was that as Angelus came, the lips that he imagined sucking his cock belonged to a little redheaded girl whose name he didn’t know.

Willow and Buffy wandered the perimeter of Shady Oaks Cemetery, waiting for something to happen.  As they walked, they talked.  

It had been several days since Jenny had dropped her ‘no sex for Angel’ bombshell, and Buffy was beginning to come to terms with what that meant for the two of them.  “Not that there really *is* a ‘two of us,’ but hey, there might be, someday.”

This was familiar ground for Willow and Buffy, and the topic of many of their conversations.  At first both girls had felt uncomfortable about discussing Angel, given what had happened between Angelus and Willow.  But after a day or two the weirdness had begun to fade.  Buffy needed someone to talk to, and Willow was the only person she knew who was even remotely supportive of the relationship.  Therefore, Buffy had decided to pretend that the whole evening at the Bronze had never happened.  And Willow was more than willing to buy into that little piece of denial.  The sooner she forgot about that night, the better.

But the truth of the matter was, she was finding that evening a bit more difficult to forget about than she had hoped.  Each night when she fell asleep, her dreams were filled with a dark vampire whose lips set hers afire, while his hands traveled her body, leaving her lightheaded with desire and need.  She would fight him--and her own longings--but it always ended the same way:  with her in his arms, his cock deep within her, his voice telling her everything she ever longed to hear.

Those were the good dreams; they weren’t always that nice, though.  

Sometimes they started out the same, but ended someplace darker.  Sometimes he would hurt her, bite her, drink from her.  And she would come back for more, because the pain made her come alive in a way she had never imagined it could.

Those were the dreams she feared the most.

“...so what do you think about that?”

Buffy’s voice jolted her mind back to reality.  

“Oh, no, I’m sorry!  I totally spaced out.  What did you say?”

Buffy gave her a quizzical look as she skipped around a tombstone, turning to walk backwards so that she could face Willow.  “What were you thinking about?” she asked teasingly, an eager smile on her face.

Willow’s mind immediately went to work, trying to think of an appropriate answer.  “The square root of 133,400,” she answered quickly, smiling when Buffy’s expression changed to one of disappointment.  “Big math test tomorrow.”

Buffy sighed at that, glad that she wasn’t in the honors math class with Willow.  She was having a difficult enough time with her “Math for Dummies” class.  “God, why can’t the Council just give me a diploma?  How come I have to fight all night, and yet they still expect me to factor numbers and split infinitives all day at school?  It’s just not fair!”

“Actually, splitting infinitives—”  

“Is a bad thing.  I know.  Just making a point,” Buffy explained.  “I mean, it’s not as if someone’s going to try to hire me out of high school and find out that my diploma is a fake.”  Buffy stopped walking, jumping up to sit on one of the older tombstones.  

“I won’t be around long enough to have a real job,” she said quietly.  “Or do most of those things that people do after they graduate from high school.  At least, that’s what the Watchers Diaries say.  So I should make the time I have count, instead of going to school and spending every free moment studying.”

Willow sensed the pain and unhappiness behind what her friend was saying.  She knew that Buffy had a point; her life was bound to be short.  All Slayers’ lives were.  But...

“Those other Slayers—they didn’t have friends, Buffy.  And they didn’t have a ‘Giles’ either.  Those two things alone should be worth at least another couple of years for you.  Maybe even a decade.  So, yeah, as much as school is a pain in the ass, you might find out that that diploma is actually worth something someday.”  She fell silent again, her face bursting into a smile as another thought occurred to her.  “Besides, if you suddenly got this magic diploma from the Council, what do you think your mom’s response would be?”

Buffy grimaced at the thought.  “She’d probably make me send applications to every college in the country.  Along with those stupid little essays they make you write.  God, I might as well be in English class.”

A sound off to their left caught Buffy’s attention, and two sets of eyes stared dead east, waiting.  Before too much time passed, the figure of a vampire emerged, moving towards them quickly, but awkwardly.

“Another fledge.  God, doesn’t Angelus ever tire of this game?  I swear, I can kill them as fast as he can make them.  He just doesn’t seem to get that.”

She waited until the vampire was only a couple of feet from her, then jumped off the tombstone and moved into her fighting stance, legs apart, weight balanced evenly on her feet.  A stake passed from one hand to the other, tossed casually back and forth, as if no effort was used at all.

“Slayer.”  The word was lisped out, as if the vampire wasn’t yet comfortable with his new face.

“Vampire.  Good, now that we have that straight, let’s get to the point.”  When she said the word point, she feigned left, the vampire’s eyes following her as he readied for a fight.  Then she lunged right, and her stake slammed into the chest of the vampire.  Dust went flying.

“Wow, that one was even stupider than most of them.  He didn’t even try to defend himself.”

“Damn, that was Jaime Parkins, wasn’t it?” Willow moaned.

Buffy’s attention returned to her friend, surprised to find the girl so despondent.  “Secret crush?” Buffy asked curiously.

“No!  Even worse...he was my Lab partner.  We had this huge project due next week.”  Her expression went gloomy at the thought.  “Guess I’ll be flying solo.  Stupid Angelus.  How’s a girl supposed to get an A+ in chemistry when her lab partner gets vamped?”  Since Angelus seemed to be running the vampires in town these days, he got the blame for any vamp-related attacks.  

“Maybe you’ll have to settle for the A- this time?”

“Hah!  Not even.  My mom—well, she’d have a fit if I brought home an A-.  No excuse in the world would be good enough.”  Willow sighed, looking around the cemetery.  Most nights she could see the moonlight as it filtered through the large trees that gave the cemetery its name, and appreciate the beauty of the careful landscaping that kept the place looking fresh and natural.  

Tonight, all she could see was row upon row of tombstones.

“Guess I’d better get you home, huh?” Buffy asked.  “I take it you’ll be going into full-time study crisis mode?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Willow answered, hanging her head and turning around, heading for the nearest gate.  

They walked quickly, minds fixed clearly on their destination.  Neither one of them noticed Angelus, well-hidden in the shadows, as he watched them make their way home.


TBC

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