Title: Then and Now
Author: Kat, a.k.a. KallieRose
E-mail: [email protected]
Rating: NC-17 
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: Angelus takes an interest in Willow, in order to tick off Buffy.  But it doesn't quite turn out the way he expects it to.
Spoilers: Spoilers for season 2 Buffy
A/N:  A huge thanks to Gabrielle and Lisa for all their help and support.  Without the help and encouragement of these two wonderful ladies this story would probably just be stuck inside my demented little head./

Then and Now

Part: 17

Willow woke surrounded by the cool embrace of a vampire.  A dark room greeted her eyes, confusing her for a moment.  She glanced quickly at the windows, which were usually covered only by her thin, practically sheer curtains.  Now they were dark, draped by extra towels and a spare blanket.

A quick glance at the clock told her that it was already early afternoon.  They had stayed awake talking, and well, doing other things, until nearly 5am, so she wasn't terribly surprised that she had slept so late.  A momentary panic raced through her as she thought about missing yet more school, but then she remembered that it was Saturday, and she could relax, or at least as much as one *could* relax when they were sharing a bed with a vampire.

Her eyes focused on the aforementioned vampire lying on his side facing her, eyes closed, and she wondered if he was really asleep.  There was simply no way to tell, what with the whole 'not breathing' thing that he had going on.  She attempted to move away from him, to put some space between their bodies, but when she tried to move his arms merely tightened their hold, pulling her flush with his cool body.

Why was he still here?  He had never stayed the night before.  Their relationship was so new and uncertain that any change in their routine was cause for suspicion and nervousness.  She watched him with uneasy eyes, starting slightly when his eyelids popped open without warning, his eyes capturing hers and holding them.

"'Morning," he murmured, reaching up to run his hand through her sleep-tousled hair.

She eyed him, confused and a little uncertain.  What did he want?  What did he expect?  Why was he still here?  So many questions waited to be asked.

"I can tell you want to ask me something," he told her with a smile, watching her face for clues.

Willow was silent for a moment, wondering which of her myriad questions to ask.  "Why aren't I dead yet?" she blurted out, immediately wishing she could take her words back.  Out of all the questions in her head, that was the one she had least expected to pop out.  Apparently her brain had had other ideas.

He quirked an eyebrow in response to the unexpected question.  "Didn't realize you were in such a hurry to, what is it they say, shuffle off this mortal coil."

"I'm not.  Totally not!" she assured him, cursing herself again for bringing up the subject.  "It's just, well, it's like waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know?  Makes me nervous," she confessed uneasily.

Why *was* she still alive, he wondered.  It wasn't that he didn't fully expect to kill her.  That had always been the plan.  It just hadn't happened yet.  What answer could he give that would satisfy her?  Was it because of the look on her face as she came?  Or the way that the moonlight made her hair look like a pool of molten copper?  Should he tell her that it was because he wasn't ready to turn her yet?  They all played a part in his somewhat unconscious decision to keep her alive a bit longer, but somehow he suspected that those weren't the answers she sought.

She would make a beautiful demon, he knew.  Her shimmering pale skin already gave her the look of one of his kind, and the contrast between her skin and her blood-red hair was quite stunning.  Luscious red lips just begging to be kissed would grow full under his attentions, and her long shapely legs brought her comfortably to chin level, where she would look up at him with those amazing green eyes of hers.  Sometimes, in his more fanciful moments, he was sure he could see flecks of gold already dancing in those orbs.

Yes, there was no doubt she would be beautiful.  He just hoped that the rest of the package would be as tempting.  The lessons he had learned with Dru were still fresh in his mind; insane vampiresses were good for torturing and punishing, but quite annoying if he had any wish of intelligent conversation.  He would have to be careful with Willow, since her staggering intellect and childlike curiosity were two of the qualities he prized the most.  She might seem full of strength and bravado, but underneath all of that was a gentle delicate spirit that he did not wish to be broken.  At least not yet; not until he had the time to do it properly.

His mind wandered to consider his childer for a moment.  As much as Spike could be a royal pain in the ass, one thing that Angelus had to respect was the loyalty and affection that the blond vampire had for his Drusilla.  Spike had taken the burden of caring for his mad childe off of his hands without a complaint, and had developed such a strong bond to her that sometimes Angelus was a little jealous.  As for Drusilla, she cared for her childe with a surprising intensity; her ruthless loyalty and gentle caring were both frightening and comforting.

The redhead was still waiting patiently for an answer, so he gave her one that was probably not very comforting, but still relatively close to the truth.  "I'm not through with you yet," he growled, pulling her closer, grinding his cool hard body against her own.  He watched as her eyes darkened with fear and lust, and knew that his own eyes were probably dancing with amber.

A soft growl grabbed his attention, and he looked at the young woman, slightly confused.  Had she just growled at him?

"Sorry, guess I must be a little hungry," she said sheepishly.  "That happens to us humans when we don't eat in over," she thought for a moment, frowning slightly as she counted backwards in her head, "Twenty hours."

This time when she moved to get up, his arms reluctantly released her, watching the blush that flowed over her face as she realized that she was naked.  'Amazing,' he thought.  After all the things that they'd done together, she could still get embarrassed over the thought of him seeing her body.

He saw the debate raging in her mind:  would she dive ungracefully for a robe from her closet, or stand naked before him and ignore her embarrassment?  A slight smile played upon his lips as he watched her come deftly to her feet, walking calmly to the closet and ignoring him altogether.  She selected a pale green robe that brought out the fire of her hair and the dark pools of her eyes, shrugged gracefully into it, and headed for the door.

Willow wasn't sure if Angelus planned on joining her downstairs, but just in case, she eyed the living room and kitchen with a critical eye.  As long as all the drapes were pulled everything should be okay.  Unlike the sheer drapes in her room, the downstairs rooms boasted window coverings that were long and heavy.  As long as they were kept closed, things should be safe for her guest.

"You can come down, if you want," she called up the stairs, wondering if he would take her up on the offer.  And if he did, how odd would it seem?  Angelus in the bedroom was something she was getting used to seeing.  Angelus lounging against the kitchen cabinets might take a little more getting used to.

She turned to the kitchen, her mind running over the actual food items she might find there.  Something quick and easy would probably be best, so she settled on making herself a simple cheese sandwich.  As she took the first bite of her sandwich, a sound behind her alerted her to the fact that she now had company.  Angelus stood behind her dressed in nothing but a smirk.

Her eyes wandered over his flesh, admiring the spare, lean look of his body and his pale, supple skin.  Her face turned red with embarrassment as her eyes swept lower, admiring his penis, which seemed to grow and rise under her appreciative gaze.

The look he shot back at her was laced with knowing and satisfaction, and it made the words she had planned to say stick in her throat.  "Sorry--I'm, um--I don't have anything to offer you.  I, um--well, you never stayed before so I didn't ever think to--"

"I think you have quite a lot of something to offer me," he purred seductively, using his body to back her up against the refrigerator.  She dropped what remained of her sandwich to the floor, her mind momentarily regretting the lost food.

"Angelus," she squeaked, her eyes growing wide as her body hit the front of the refrigerator.  She reached up and wound her hands around his neck, smiling as he brought his head down for a quick kiss.  But before the kiss could get too heated, the vampire stopped and stepped away from her.  "C'mere," he told her as he walked over to the white formica kitchen table.

Willow hesitated for a moment, wondering what he was planning, and then walked over to his side.  "Turn around," he commanded, placing his hands on her hips in order to position her as he wanted.  A hand on her back pushed her forward slightly, and the other hand pushed her robe onto her back, leaving her nether regions open for his perusal.

"Here?" she asked uneasily.  The thought of 'doing it' on her parents kitchen table just seemed - dirty.  And not in the fun way either.  But then she felt the pressure of Angelus' cock as it slid between the lips of her sex, and any further protest died on her lips.

"Here," he agreed comfortably, pushing himself deep inside her.  Obviously *he* had never eaten breakfast at this table, she thought suddenly.  And somehow she doubted that she ever could again either.

Angelus set up a fast brutal pace, slamming into her body as quickly and as completely as he could.  In this position she felt him enter her more deeply, and occasionally a twinge of pain would accompany his deeper thrusts.

The sound of her labored breath was all that broke the silence of the room, and the unreality of the whole scene stunned Willow.  Here she was, bent over the kitchen table, while Angelus pounded into her again and again.  A part of her mind accepted this as normal, as something that felt right, and that scared Willow as much as the thought that he would try to kill her before too long.

How had it happened?  How had this thing between them changed from something wrong and evil, to something that she could come to terms with; something she could even enjoy?  Was it simply because she knew that their liaison was temporary, certain to end once Angel had returned?  Had that given her the freedom to enjoy what he offered?

Or had she herself been changed simply by knowing him?  Had the taint of his evil colored her because she had refused to fight hard enough against it?

Perhaps she *had* changed.  She knew that she felt different when she was with him; like she wasn't nerdy little Willow anymore, but someone wild and free.  Sort of a 'damn the consequences, full speed ahead' type of gal.  Someone who didn't care what others thought; someone who knew that what was really important was how she felt about herself.  Maybe that Willow had been hiding inside of her all along, but Angelus had helped bring her out, whether he had intended to or not.

The feeling of his hands on her ass brought her thoughts quickly back to the present.  Fingers caressed the round globes of flesh, occasionally slapping her ass lightly, making her backside feel hot and overly sensitive.  Suddenly a finger dipped between the cheeks of her ass, teasing her asshole.  The feeling of his finger back there was strange and somewhat uncomfortable, and Willow began to wiggle away from the invading digit.

"Relax," he instructed her, as his finger teased the elastic ring of her hole.  "If you relax, this can be quite enjoyable.  If you clench up, this won't be any fun at all.  Not for you, at any rate.  Doesn't matter much either way to me."  His casual tone assured Willow that he was quite serious; he would do this to her whether she wanted him to or not.  The thought sobered her, while at the same time she felt her body responding to his subtle threat, trying to relax to allow the finger to delve deeper inside her.  If he was going to do this, she might as well try to enjoy it.

His long finger thrust inside her in time with the thrust of his cock into her pussy, and soon Willow didn't care what he was doing to her, as long as he kept doing it.  She never imagined that having two pieces of him invading her at the same time could feel so good, but for some reason it did.  Suddenly he added another finger to her ass, and after an initial groan of pain, the pleasure overwhelmed her again.  His cock and his fingers filled her, stretched her, completed her, and she cried out his name as her orgasm tore through her body and mind.

The dark vampire had not yet come, and now that Willow had, he pulled himself from pussy, his cock gleaming with her juices.  He moved it higher, lining it up with her tight ass, and began to push into her.  The lubrication he had stolen from her release made it possible to slowly push in, easing his head into the ring of her ass until it finally swallowed him whole, and he held the tip of himself inside her.

He looked down at the profile of her face where it rested against the white top of the table, admiring the way that her body had relaxed, while her face was still set in nervous, slightly frightened lines.  The thought came to him that he should probably reassure her, but the idea smacked of humanity and he quickly discarded it.  She would get through this, and in the end she would enjoy it.  In fact, he told himself, he could probably make her cum while he fucked her ass.  The thought appealed to him, and his fingers immediately went to work on her little clit, the soft gasps of breath telling him that she was ready for him to make the next move.

He plowed into her, thrusting all the way through her bowels until he could move no further; he was inside her to the hilt.  She had cried out when he had moved deeper, but now she was quiet, although her heart hammered in her chest and her chest heaved with labored breath.  Giving her a careless smile, he pulled himself back out, until only the tip was still held within her, and then pushed forward again, sheathing himself within her tight, warm ass.  She was amazing, he crowed, so soft and beautiful and responsive.  Such a wonderful find, and she was all his, only his, never to be touched by another.

It wouldn't be long until he came, he realized as he continued to thrust within her, so he redoubled the efforts of his fingers on her clit.  He watched as she bit her lower lip so deeply that he could smell blood.

Willow didn't know whether to cry out in joy or scream in pain.  The pain from her ass was mixing with the pleasure she felt elsewhere, sending confusing signals to her brain.  All she knew was that she wouldn't be able to handle much more of this, and yet she wanted it to go on forever.  The sensations all centered on Angelus' fingers and the things they were doing to her clit.  She was so close, so very close to coming, and every bit of her attention was drawn to that.

In her mind Angelus didn't exist, Willow didn't exist, the rest of the world was gone as well.  All that mattered was the feeling of fingers on her clit, building her up higher and higher until her orgasm crashed over her and she screamed a wordless sound of release, more feral than human.

As she came down from the incredible orgasm, she realized that Angelus had come as well.  As he pulled his spent cock from her ass, he watched her with those unreadable damned eyes of his, his smile growing as he took in her dishevelment and confusion.

Damn him, she thought.  Damn him for being so sexy, damn him for being so evil, and damn him for being so right.

Part: 18

They lay relaxing on the couch, Willow tucked within his arms, as the vague sounds of life going on outside the window of her living room tried unsuccessfully to intrude upon her thoughts.  It was dusk; soon it would be dark, and she wondered whether he would go, or if he would stay a little longer.  And if he did, what exactly would that mean?

"Don't ever forget who you're dealing with, Willow," he reminded her in what, to her, seemed like an unusually soft and almost apologetic tone of voice.  "I'm a vampire, and I will do whatever I want to you, whenever I want.  You can't stop me."

She nodded slowly, reluctantly, glad that he couldn't see her face.  His arms tightened, pulling her back tighter against his chest, almost as if he could sense the direction her thoughts were heading.

"I may seem civilized and almost...soft, at times.  But that's just a face that I put on for the benefit of others.  Underneath that, I'm something entirely different."

'Yeah, yeah, yeah, bad evil vampire without a soul, would rather drain me than talk to me, I get that,' she thought somewhat bitterly.  But for some reason those things didn't seem to matter too much when she was with him.  There was a side of her that hated what he was and what he did, but another part of her was in love with the passion and the wildness and the feelings he made her experience.  That part of her hoped that this - this thing they had would never end.  And maybe it was only because that she knew it *would* end soon that she felt free to admit to herself just how much he had come to mean to her.

When she made no move to answer him, Angelus reached out and tugged a lock of her hair, not pulling it taut, just exerting enough pressure to get her attention.  Her head turned back to look at him, the angle somewhat uncomfortable.  "What are you thinking about?" he asked gently, his hand releasing her hair and reaching down to caress the line of her jaw.

"It doesn't much matter," she replied softly, the words an echo of her thoughts.  He took her utterance at face value, not understanding that she was referring to something much more serious than his need to justify his earlier actions.

And why exactly did it matter to him whether she was upset, Willow wondered.  Why was he bothering to justify himself and his actions to her.  It wasn't like she was important to him.

Doubts and low self-esteem flooded her mind as they always did, and she turned her head back away from him, staring blindly at a spot in the carpet.  In a couple of days Jenny would cast the re-souling spell and Angelus would be gone, replaced by Angel.  Buffy's Angel.

How would he feel when he returned?  Would he be disgusted at what she had allowed to happen between her and Angelus?  Would he tell the others of her betrayal?  Or would he remain silent, their actions adding yet another serving of guilt upon his already overwhelmed soul?

Further dark thoughts added fuel to the fire, and she turned her head back towards him again.  "Why do you care?" she asked bitterly.  "Why ask me what I'm thinking?  You go to such pains to tell me that you're evil and always will be.  So why would you even ask?  Asking implies an interest in the answer; it implies that you care about how I answer."  She turned her head away again, her eyes drawn back to that spot on the carpet.

Angelus was silent for so long that Willow finally turned back towards him again, wondering if she had made him angry.  The brown eyes that met hers were devoid of emotion, and yet she could see deeper thoughts swimming beneath the surface, and wondered what they were.

Without warning he sat up, moving Willow with him so that she sat beside him.  "I don't really know how to answer your question," he finally admitted, refusing to meet her eyes.  He got to his feet, walking over to the window and pulling the thick curtain back enough to peer outside and evaluate the progress of the sun.

Apparently the sun was down, or at least close enough to it, because the next thing Willow knew, he had grabbed his coat.  He hastily pulled it on and headed for the door.  Her eyes followed his progress, confusion swimming in their depths.  He didn't seem angry or uncertain, but he was definitely in a hurry to get away.  Away from her.  That was the only explanation she could come up with.

The door slammed closed behind him, and as soon as it did, Willow felt warm salty tears fall from her eyes.  God, what was wrong with her?

She buried her head in her arms, crying bitter tears, her small body wracked by sobs.  Why was she crying?  Why was she letting this get to her so much?  It wasn't like she cared about him.  It wasn't like his hurried departure was a bad thing.

Her mind taunted her with the bitter truth:  It wasn't like she was in love with him...was it?

Heaven help her, it was exactly like she was in love with him.  She had tried to fight it, tried so very hard.   But in almost no time he had managed to squirm his way around her carefully erected defenses.  And he had done it easily, without even trying.

And now, now that it was too late, she saw it all laid out before her.  How he had played upon her insecurities, while at the same time he had built up her self-esteem.  He had made her feel good about herself; made her feel good about the way she felt when she was with him.  And then there was the sex...

She shook her head angrily, as if that act could banish the feel of his fingers on her flesh; the pleasurable pain his teeth had inflicted upon her; the sound of his voice as he whispered in her ear.

"STOP IT!" she yelled aloud, the sound echoing around the empty room and inside of her head.  The tears fell again as the young redhead cried herself to sleep alone on the couch.

Angelus headed home, his thoughts jagged and confused.  What the hell was wrong with him?  She was just a girl.  A means to an end.  But every time his thoughts strayed, they led him back to a young woman with frightened green eyes who seemed to be just as confused as he was.

He would not allow himself to be weak.  That was all there was to it.  End of subject.  Love...NO, not love.  Emotional attachment.  That was all it was.  But it was a weakness, and something he could not have in his life.

There were goals to be achieved, promises to be kept.  He would kill the redhead, and then Spike would kill the Slayer.  The plan was perfect in its simplicity; not in the least bit complicated.  So why was he now having second thoughts?  Thoughts of keeping her, thoughts of making her his childe and his mate.

How the hell had she managed to creep her way into his heart, turning all the cold emotionless places warm and comfortable?  He had lived so many years without love, both as Angelus and then as Angel.  How could one little slip of a girl change all of that?

With an angry shake of his head he headed into the mansion, his eyes settling on Dru and Spike, involved in some sort of discussion.

"So," he said, wiping all traces of his confusion and other emotions from his face, "Have I missed anything?"

"'Bout time you made it back," Spike groused.  "Was wondering if I needed to rally the troops for a round of hide-n-seek or something."

"I told him that daddy was just fine, he was simply playing with fire," Drusilla added in a sing-song tone, her words punctuated by a knowing nod.  She was sitting on Spike's lap, nipping playfully at the fingers he dangled before her face.  Exactly whose fingers they were, it was hard to tell.  Probably some drifter or take-out delivery person, he guessed.

"Can you see now why I was slightly concerned?" Spike told him with a wry smile.  "So I suppose it was your little redhead that kept you out all day?"

Angelus gave the blond a bland look.  "Just setting the scene for our Slayer's demise.  Are you ready for your part of the plan?  I'm thinking I'll kill her tomorrow night."

The words came as a bit of a surprise, both to him and to his childer, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made.  Things were getting too emotional, too real for him.  Best to cut this short and be done with it.  One more night with her warm, sweet body, and then drop her in front of the Slayer's house, his own personal version of a Hallmark greeting card.

Spike moved Drusilla off of his lap and came gracefully to his feet, walking back and forth a few times to demonstrate his mastery of his body.  "I'm fit as a fiddle," he answered, a slight glint of bloodlust in his eye.

Drusilla eyed her daddy thoughtfully, her eyes digging into his skin and attempting to discern his secrets.

"What is it baby girl?" he asked, coming to take the hand that Dru held out to him.

"You said you were going to turn the little girl with the big green eyes," she reminded him, her face turning unhappy and eyes filling with tears.  "I so wanted a mummy, I did.  I'd be such a good girl, I promise."  She looked into his eyes, begging him to reconsider.

"I suspect that daddy's little toy wasn't quite as interesting as he thought it was going to be," Spike told her, giving Angelus a wink.  "Bet he's gotten bored already, right sire?  She may be pretty to look at, in an elfin sort of way, but to spend eternity with?  I just don't see it."

Angelus hesitated a moment, then nodded at Spike, before turning to look again at Dru.  "Spike's right, this wasn't the one.  She was fun, but she's not forever."

Part: 19

Willow awoke early on Sunday morning, which was less of a blessing that it might have seemed.  Even with an early sunset, it would still be almost twelve hours until Angelus could return.  If he was going to.  She could have sworn that he wasn't angry when he left her, yet there had been a distance between them that she didn't quite understand.  If it wasn't anger, then what had it been?  She couldn't figure it out, not for the life of her.

She did all the normal, 'human' things that were a part of her routine:  she showered, dressed, had breakfast, and settled down for a nice study session.

In her history class they were studying the American Revolution, and without even thinking about it, her thoughts flew to Angelus.  Where had he been during those years?  He had mentioned something once that led her to believe he had been in New York, but she couldn't remember for sure.  Had Drusilla and Spike been with him?  Were they a family then?

Buffy had mentioned that she had heard through one of her sources that Dru and Spike were back in town, and making up for lost time with 'daddy.'  She wondered if they--NO, she would NOT do this.  She refused to moon around like some childish little girl over a pathetic crush.

Studying had been a good idea in theory, but obviously it was not sufficient to keep her mind off of Angelus.  Some stronger medicine was needed for that, maybe something that came in a Xander-shaped pill?

Willow acknowledged that she had been shutting her friends out and pulling away from them for a while, but suddenly the need to see Xander was unusually strong.  She gave in to the impulse to pick up the phone, her nimble fingers dialing the number that she had first memorized in kindergarten.

"Hey Xander," she greeted softly when her friend picked up the phone.  "Whatcha up to?"

Calling Xander had definitely been the right idea she decided, as they sat together in the park, talking and catching up on each other's lives.  Certainly there were subjects that they didn't touch on:  his relationship with Cordy was quickly put into that category, as was Willow's relationship with the undead.  Of course Xander didn't realize that there even *was* a subject with that title, but what he didn't know certainly wouldn't hurt him.

They talked happily, laughing and grinning, and for a little while all of Willow's cares melted away like snow in the bright morning sun.  And when Xander invited her to have dinner at his place, she just naturally found herself accepting the invitation.  After all, it wasn't like she had anything she had to return home to.  Her parents' house was big, cold and empty.

Finally, over frozen pizza and Pepsi, Xander brought up a subject that Willow just couldn't see participating in.

"You know," he began hesitantly, "Buffy thinks you're mad at her."

"Nah," Willow responded, her mouth still half-full of spicy Italian goodness.

"Well I'm glad to hear that you're not, that's a big relief," Xander said, smiling.

Willow laughed, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice.  The day had been going so well, and she really didn't want it to end on a sour note.  "No, Xander, I meant that she's way too inwardly focused to realize that I'm still mad at her."

Her friend shot her a surprised look, unused to hearing her use such critical language in regards to Buffy.  Willow had always been so forgiving, so willing to accept Buffy's shortcomings because she knew how hard the blonde worked at being the Slayer.  What had happened to change things between them so suddenly?

"I--" The boy floundered for a moment, unsure what to say.  "You're still mad at her, aren't you?"

Willow sighed, staring down at the half-eaten slice of pizza on her plate.  "Xander, I'm trying to get past this, really I am.  But Buffy has been...cruel.  I mean, I understand you not wanting to tell me about you and Cordelia, I guess.  We both have this big history with Cordelia, and it wasn't always pretty."

Xander nodded his head, acknowledging her comments about their shared past.

"But Buffy is supposed to be my friend.  And once the truth was out, a friend would have made sure I was okay.  She would have tried to help me get through this.  But Buffy's reaction was more along the lines of 'well thank goodness that's over, let's go out and party.'  Hell, even Cordelia was more sympathetic.  And you know what?  It hurts."

"Okay, I guess I can understand that.  But she's just--"

"Sorry, Xan.  Not buying that excuse anymore," Willow interrupted forcefully.  "I know she's got a lot on her plate.  We all know that.  And we've all been looking the other direction whenever she does something that isn't cool.  Hell, look at the way she's treating Jenny.  She and Giles have been trying to help, for heaven's sake, and Buffy treats them both like something she's trying to scrape off the bottom of her shoe.  And we stand by and let her!  Well I'm not going to put up with it anymore.  I deserve better, damn it."

Xander was quiet for a moment, marveling at the newly-discovered streak of self-esteem Willow had just shown him.  A small part of him acknowledged that her timing might have been a bit better, but the rest of him was happy for her, and hoped that he would get to see more of this new self-confidence.  "I'm sorry, Willow," he said quietly, reaching out to grab her hand across the table.  "You're right, and I'm a fool for not realizing it sooner.  You do deserve better."

Willow looked away from him, grabbing her glass and letting a big gulp of Pepsi bubble down her throat.  Years of friendship told Xander that she was working hard to control her emotions, not wanting to show how badly they'd all hurt her.

"I guess I really screwed up, huh?" he said, not knowing how else to make things right.

She gave him a small smile, grateful that he was acknowledging his part in the drama that her life had become.

"It's okay," she told him, giving his hand a light squeeze.  "You're a guy, you can't help it."  Her teasing tone and the smile on her face as she delivered this pronouncement made him smile in return, and he wondered yet again what he had done to deserve her.

"Yeah, you--you woman you!" he teased her right back, watching as she finished the last of her dinner.  He took a closer look at her, noticing the shadows behind her eyes and the fact that her clothes hung on her body just a bit looser than usual.  "Willow, you okay?  I mean, I know your parents are gone...are you getting enough sleep, and 3 squares a day?"

She merely looked back at him curiously.  "I mean, you just look a little tired, that's all," he told her.  "You know you're welcome to hang here anytime, right?  No matter what, I'm still your friend."

He watched a grateful smile break across her face, and for a moment he thought that he might have seen a shimmer of tears in her eyes, but when he blinked it was just Willow, smiling happily.  "Love you, Xander."

"Love you too, Wills."

"Gotta go," she said sadly.  "Lots of studying to get done tonight.  American history test next week, remember?"

He laughed at that.  "You know me Willow.  I won't start studying until about five minutes before the class bell rings."

"Yeah, and I still don't know how you manage to pass your classes," the redhead admitted as she headed for the door.  "Must be all that clean living, huh?"

"Oh yeah, lots of that," Xander acknowledged with a smile.  He held the door open for her, watching as she took off down the street.  The vague thought crossed his mind that he really ought to have offered to walk her home, but Cordelia had mentioned that she might be by tonight, so his chivalrous thought crossed right back out of his mind.

It was only a block or two, and Willow was armed with holy water and a cross.  She'd walked that short distance more times than he could even count.  She'd be just fine.

Part: 20

The short walk home from Xander's house felt like it took forever; every shadow seemed to hide a dozen vampires, and every noise she heard sounded like the anguished voice of someone she knew.  Willow understood that it was just her imagination playing games with her, but that didn't make it any easier.  It was with a great sense of relief that she closed the front door safely behind her, peering into the darkness of the living room.

"Where were you?"

The accusatory tone of the vampire's voice set her nerves on edge, but she knew that a show of anger would get her nowhere, so she forced herself to relax, her eyes seeking the source of the voice.

"I was with Xander," she responded calmly, finally picking out his figure in the dark room.

He sat comfortably in the old ugly recliner that her father insisted they keep, even though it clashed terribly with everything else in the room.  Sometimes Willow thought that her father's insistence was rooted more in a need to annoy her mother than in any real love for the piece of furniture.  But they had kept it all these years, for whatever reason.

"Come here," he commanded softly, and she did, looking down at him, her eyes alight with curiosity.  "Sit," he said.

She sat down carefully on his lap, leaning back into him as his strong arms surrounded her.  They sat quietly for a couple minutes, just enjoying the feeling of holding and being held.

"I want you," Angelus whispered into her ear, the emotion in the simple statement sending shivers down Willow's spine.

"I want you, too," she admitted softly, turning her head and burying it into the crook of his neck.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he stood up, the redhead still held in his arms.  He shifted her slightly, one arm around her neck while the other held her under the bend in her knees.  Her arms moved quickly to circle his neck, her lips placing soft kisses on the pale column of skin.  Without a word, he carried her up to her bedroom, depositing her gently onto the bed.  She looked up at him with curious, trusting eyes, and again he questioned his decision to kill her tonight.  A part of him wanted to see her as a vampire; needed to have her around for eternity.  But another part of him, his cunning intellect, knew that she would be a liability.  His feelings for her would make him weak and vulnerable, and he could not allow that to happen.

"Why are you so far away," she asked, pondering his strange mood this evening.  At first she was afraid that he was going to put her through another of his 'I am vampire, hear me growl' dramas, but he had calmed down quickly and now seemed strangely tender.  What had caused the change in him?

"I'm right here, with you," he answered with a gentle smile, bending over to brush the hair back from her forehead and kiss her softly.

'For now,' she added silently to herself, trying not to think about what would happen once they completed the soul restoration.  When all that remained of him was Angel, who belonged solely to Buffy.

She knew that day was coming soon; was probably not more than twenty-four hours away, and the thought made her want to crawl away and die.  He was, she knew, a cold, vicious killer and could not be allowed to survive.  And yet there were times like these when she could forget all of that and concentrate on the good things:  the times when they were happy together; the way he made her feel when they were together; the knowledge that he cared for her, even if he wouldn't say the words aloud.

His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb rubbing softly along her jaw, as if he hoped to memorize the shape of it.

"What are you thinking about?" came her hesitant question.

Angelus smiled silkily, wondering how she'd feel if he told her.  He sat down next to her on the bed, looking down with eyes that gave her no clues to his thoughts.  "I was imagining how you'd look as a vampire," he finally confessed.

His hand reached out to touch a lock of her hair, twirling it carelessly between his fingers.  "Your hair would be brilliant against your pale skin, making it look like a fire that consumed you."  His fingers moved down to her shoulder, pushing aside the flimsy fabric that covered it.  "Your skin would glow in the moonlight like alabaster," he continued, caressing her shoulder briefly before slipping his hand under the fabric and reaching to cup her breast.

Willow was mesmerized by the words and the low, hypnotic tone of his voice.  Never mind that he was describing her untimely death; Angelus could make it sound like something she would crave with her last dying breath.

"Angelus," she whispered, not wanting to break the spell his words created.

"Yes, my Willow?

"I need you," she sighed, closing her eyes.

He smiled, his eyes tracing her face and every line of her body.  This was how he would always remember her.  Giving herself to him, and yet never completely trusting him. It amazed him that she could do that; could care for him so completely, even knowing that he would be her destruction.  There was an innocence and strength to her that he respected, even as he tried to destroy it.

He would miss her.  Would miss this.  The words came to him and he was tempted to speak them aloud, if only to see her reaction.  Would she cry?  Beg for her life?  Or would she face her fate square in the face and accept it?  He suspected it would be the latter that she would choose.

Regardless of what her response might have been, tonight would be it.  He would drain her and leave her for the Slayer to find.  There would be no putting it off and no backing down.  Leaving her alive, or even turning her, was just too dangerous.  Even as a vampire she would be a liability, his affection for her something that could be used against him.  He could not permit himself such a weakness.

But he would make their last night together special; she deserved that much at least.

That last thought driving his actions, he reached down to tug her shirt over her head, Willow lifting her arms up to help.  Then he pulled her pants off, and her panties with them.  His eyes devoured her hungrily, openly admiring her body.

His hands paid homage to her, working tirelessly as they stroked and teased her skin, centering finally on the valley between her breasts.

His fingers teased her nipples.  He watched as the tips stiffened into hard peaks.  She moved against him, thrusting her chest even closer, and he took the hint and grabbed the firm globes, squeezing lightly as his thumbs stroked the firm tips.

"Angelus," she moaned, head shaking from side to side as she tried to deal with the feelings his hands were driving her to.

"Tell me what you want, sweet Willow.  Tell me what you need."

"I need more."  She stopped for a moment, gasping for breath.  "I need you," she whispered, her eyes opening and gazing into his.

"I'd hate terribly to disappoint you," he grinned, moving to the space between her open legs.  He unzipped his pants, pulling them off and letting them drop to the floor.  His cock stood out hard and lean, eager to be inside her warm tight embrace.

He watched her eyes as he pushed into her, consumed by the expressions that flowed across her face:  lust, need, and finally a look of contentment as he was in her to the hilt.

He went slowly, taking her to the edge again and again and then pulling back.  After an hour of this play they were both nearing their limits.  Willow was shaking beneath him, her eyes glazed with unfulfilled lust.  Her hair was plastered to her neck with sweat and she crooned his name continuously from kiss-stung lips.

It was time he decided, speeding up the pace of his thrusts.  She thrust her hips against his, searching for that elusive pressure on her clit, and the release that had been denied for so long.

They came together, shouting out the other's name as they fell bonelessly to the bed, exhaustion claiming the redhead almost immediately.

He watched her as she slept, completely oblivious to the danger before her.

"I do love you Willow, as much as I can," he murmured softly, telling her the one thing in death that he never could have in life.  He gave her one last kiss on the lips before raining a trail of kisses to her neck.  His demon face slid smoothly into place and he slowly sank his teeth deep into the flesh of her neck.

Somewhere on the other side of town, a young techno-pagan sat in a dark room, an Orb of Thessulah perched upon a haphazard pile of ancient books.

Slowly, reverently, she began to chant, the words of a long-lost tongue flowing easily from her mouth as if guided from a power beyond.

And in the parlor room of a mansion on Crawford Street, an insane vampiress began to scream with rage, her voice echoing through the long halls and empty rooms.

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