Touch of Evil By Amanda Arlequin Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Buffy The Vampire Slayer and belong to the God Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement intended.Prologue November 17, 2004 Willow couldn't help but wonder what she was doing at the Bronze. Though the club hadn't changed much in the years she'd been away, she no longer felt comfortable within its walls. It was still a teenage club and she was no longer a teenager. Not that Willow looked out place. At 23, she still looked young enough to fit in. Too bad she didn't feel the way she looked. Inside, Willow felt as if she had lived three lifetimes, and if the amount of pain she lived with counted as anything, she probably had. She sat at her corner table and watched the strange, youthful faces passing by her. She knew no one in the club, not that she had expected to. Everyone she had known and loved had left Sunnydale, like her, years ago. Her motivation for coming here hadn't been out of the hopes of seeing someone she knew. She supposed it had been nostalgia that had drawn her there. She wanted to sit and remember the way things had been, before life had intervened and changed things. Willow sipped her coffee slowly. There was no band at the bronze tonight, though Willow didn't mind. The DJ they had hired had a rather classic taste in music. Many of the songs he was playing had been popular when she in high school. At the moment, an old Pearl Jam song, Willow vaguely recognized as one Oz had loved, was playing. Willow's body swayed as she let the lyrics wash over her. **I seem to recognize your face Haunting, familiar, yet I can't seem to place it Cannot find the candle of thought to light your name Lifetimes are catching up with me All these changes taking place, I wish I'd seen the place But no one's ever taken me Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away... ** Willow watched the couples dancing with sad eyes. Her eyes latched on to a trio of youths, no older than 17, dancing off to the side of the dance floor. They could have easily been her, Buffy and Xander. Willow's throat constricted painfully as memories washed over her. Willow blinked back tears, her eyesight blurring. In her mind's eye, she could picture Buffy and Xander, as they had been 6 years ago. The image was so clear it was almost as if they were standing there beside her. When Willow's eyes spotted the tall figure near the entrance of the Bronze, she thought he was part of her mind, a hallucination like that of Buffy and Xander. It was only when he turned to face her that she realized he was real and not some apparition from her past. She paled visibly, her body shaking in recognition. **I swear I recognize your breath Memories like fingerprints are slowly raising Me, you wouldn't recall, for I'm not my former It's hard when you're stuck upon the shelf I changed by not changing at all; small town predicts my fate Perhaps that's what no one wants to see I just want to scream...hello... My god it's been so long, never dreamed you'd return But now here you are, and here I am Hearts and thoughts they fade...away... ** Willow's heart beat a staccato rhythm in her chest, her eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of him. He looked the same as he had the last time she had seen him. Willow's eyes hungrily took in his dark, sable soft hair, the liquid brown warmth of his eyes. His face was all planes and angles, a study in architecture. His lips, Willow had always loved those lips, were full and pouty. Willow always found it remarkable, but also incredibly sexy, that a guy's lips could be pouty. She had always thought that particular feature was reserved for girls. Willow could feel her body warming with desire as she took in his clothing. As usual, his shirt and pants were black. The velvet and cotton materials hung loosely on his body in a look that was incredibly flattering on his muscular frame. He looked just as good as he did in skintight leather. It was with faint horror and embarrassment that Willow realized that he was starring back at her. The expression on his face and in his eyes was unreadable to Willow. These questions and doubts raced through Willow's mind in a millisecond. Now that they were finally being reunited, Willow didn't know what to do, how to feel, how to act, what to say. Her heart constricted painfully in her chest. All the love Willow had felt for him long ago, the love she had been repressing while they had been apart, swelled up painfully in her chest. Her instincts were to run over and throw her arms around him; to bury her face in his chest and wrap herself in his protective arms. To surround herself with his reassuring presence and bask in his love. Of course, she couldn't do that now. For all she knew, his love for her had died long ago. His face shifted, an emotion Willow couldn't identify flashing across his face. Then, before Willow could even react, he began to cross the club towards her. Keeping her face as neutral as possible, Willow waited for him to reach her table. He avoided her gaze until he was directly in front of her. When he looked up, Willow gasped at the naked emotion shinning from their depths. "Willow," he breathed, his voice husky with pent up feeling. Willow smiled timidly, afraid she might be misreading his eyes, yet hopeful nonetheless. Her voice quivered as she opened her mouth to speak and she realized she was on the verge of tears once again. Before she could say anything, he surged forward, pulling her into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, unashamed as the tears began to fall. Burying her face into his shoulder, her cheek rubbing against soft velvet she let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, "Angel."
Part 1 Sunnydale, July 23, 1998 Willow supposed it was her fault that she was in this situation. She had known the dangers of being out alone at night in Sunnydale, yet she had gone against her better instincts and left the library without an escort. Her walk home was only five minutes away from school. Still, she should have waited for Buffy. But did she do the smart thing. Noooooo, of course not. Willow, the brains of the slayerettes, had done something incredibly stupid and now she was going to pay the price.
Willow glanced down at the chains binding her feet. She tugged at her arm chains though not with any real force. She knew it was hopeless. She wasn't a slayer, she couldn't break the handcuffs and so she was stuck here, left to the fate of whatever Angelus had planned for her. Willow decided to spend her time getting acquainted with her surroundings. It had already been a few hours since she had awoken to find herself tied to a bed. She had done the crying thing, now it was time to do the planning her escape thing. Willow's eyes roamed over the four walls that held her captive. Though the room wasn't exactly small, she could see she was going to develop a serious case of cabin fever if she had to stay in here. There were absolutely no windows and the only door was one of heavy iron that looked as if it was a good 2 tons of steel. The only furnishings in the room were the bed she laid on, a dresser, a bare desk with a chair, and an armchair in the corner. Willow knew her thoughts had a surreal, almost insane quality to them but she was on the brink of a nervous breakdown and this was the best way to stave off insanity. Now that Willow thought about it, she had no idea how long she had been chained up in this room. She had no idea what day it was or how much time had passed. The last thing she remembered was Angelus attacking her when she was a few blocks away from home. Before she even knew what was happening he had knocked her unconscious. The last thing she could remember was him saying "ready to have some fun little tree." Then, a few hours earlier, she had woken up in this room, but this could very well be days later. Willow jumped at the sound of metal scrapping metal. Her ears perked up as she realized it was the sound of a key turning in the lock. Willow moved to cover her ears against the noise of the door being opened but was hindered by the handcuffs. Willow struggled against her bonds as the door opened to reveal Angelus framed by the doorway. Willow's heart beat like a jackhammer in her chest. Angelus leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest, grinning at his captive. "Well, well, well, look who's finally woken up. I was beginning to think you were out for good and we weren't gonna be able to have any fun. You sure are a deep sleeper, little tree." Willow tensed as he shoved the door closed effortlessly. He crossed the room with the stalking, languid grace of a natural born predator. Willow's body tensed as he reached her side and sat down at the edge of the bed, leaning over her. Angelus chuckled at her response. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you... much." Fear gripped Willow's heart and she wondered if perhaps she'd have a heart attack before Angelus could do anything to her. Willow almost hoped that would happen, for it was certain to be quicker and less painful than what Angelus would do to her. These thoughts did nothing to ease Willow's fear. Deep down she knew Buffy wouldn't be able to find her. Angelus was too smart to have stored her somewhere Buffy could discover her. Then there's was that crack about her being a deep sleeper. Willow suspected she had been unconscious for awhile, which meant that if Buffy was going to discover and save her she would have done it by now. As if reading her mind, Angelus chuckled and said, "Don't get your hopes up about some great rescue from the slayer. Nobody knows this hiding place, not even Spike or Dru. I could keep you here for years and no one would ever find it, so if you're hoping for some brilliant rescue by your blonde knight don't bother. It ain't happening babe." Willow couldn't help the question that formed on her lips, "What are you going to do with me?" Angel cocked his head to the side as if considering the question. He smiled a slow, Cheshire cat grin. He placed a cold palm on Willow's thigh, stroking the skin through her stockings with strong, nimble fingers. "All in good time Willow dear, all in good time." Willow's leg bucked in response to his touch and he laughed. "That's right, fight me hacker. I don't want you to lose that fire. It'll only make my victory so much sweeter when I do conquer you." Angel brought his other hand up to pluck a strand of her hair between two fingers. "Hmmm, hot like Fire and lava. I wonder where else on you I can find that fire." As he spoke, the hand he had placed on her thigh crept higher, slipping under her skirt to give her inner thigh a hard squeeze. Willow's eyes widened in unabashed terror as she realized what he meant. Fear gave Willow renewed strength as she continued to struggle helplessly against the bonds, trying desperately to jerk her body out of his reach. Angel shifted with Willow's movements. Placing a hand on her stomach he pushed her body down with one hard thrust that kept her lower body still as he climbed on to the bed and straddled her legs. His pelvis rested comfortably against her upper thighs. Draping his upper body over Willow's, he nestled his face in Willow's throat, applying delicate, feather light kisses to the skin below her ear. Willow continued to struggle against her captor but this only served to delight him further. Willow could feel his erection pressing against her leg. As Willow's mind went through the process of denial, Angelus continued his oral assault of her throat. "Hmm, so soft. Has anyone ever told you that, how soft the skin of your throat is." His lust filled eyes roamed up to lock on to Willow's terror filled ones. "Have I ever told you what turns me on Willow? I mean besides the fear and struggles of my victims." He waited for Willow's response, his eyes sparkling mischievously as she shook her head limply back and forth. "Innocence. I love to play with a lily-white youth whose soul is so pure it shines brighter than the sun. Nothing thrills me more than to break the spirit of someone who possesses the charms of youth and innocence. A person just like you, Willow." As his hand crept up to caress Willow through her panties, Willow screamed. "Help! Somebody please help me!" Willow screamed at the top of her lungs for about 2 minutes before her dehydration made her voice grow hoarse and she was forced to stop. Gasping for breath, Willow realized that Angelus was making no move to stop her, but was merely smiling down at her in amusement. "You can scream as much as you want Willow. You'll only succeed in further exhausting yourself. I assure you the room is quite soundproof and the area isolated. There's nobody to save you; there will be nobody to save you. I'm afraid you're just gonna have to accept the fact that you're stuck here with me." Willow gasped for the breath to whisper, "Where is here?" Angel wagged his finger dismisively, clucking his tongue. "Now, now, that would be telling." Angel moved to lay on top of Willow, his knees and thighs measuring up to hers, his pelvis pressed against her. Propping himself up on to his elbows, he stared down at her, drinking in her terror. Willow yelped in surprise as he thrust his lower body against hers. "Don't worry Willow, this won't hurt... much." His lips descended on to her throat once again. Trailing kisses down the ridge of her jaw, he settled his mouth directly over her pulse point. Willow shivered at the feel of his cold tongue licking her skin. Then, before Willow's brain could even process what was about to happen, she felt a sharp stinging as his fangs pierced her throat. Willow's eyes fluttered shut as pain over took her. Angel's lips were barely brushing against her skin, yet his teeth were firmly lodged in her throat. It was nothing like getting your blood drawn at the doctor, or like having a cut from which your blood gushes forth. His mouth created a forceful suction as he suckled her throat. Her blood burned as it churned through her veins, flowing towards her throat and into his mouth. Willow grew more languid with every passing second. The pain slowly subsided as her senses dulled. Willow stopped struggling against Angelus simply because she no longer had the strength. As Willow slipped into unconsciousness, her last thoughts were of Angel and she wondered if she'd be joining his soul, wherever it was.
Part 2 Throughout the remainder of the night and the following day, Willow moved in and out of consciousness. At times, nonsensical dreams pervaded Willow's mind. Familiar faces: Xander, Buffy, Oz, Giles, slipped through Willow's thoughts but she could never hold on to them. It was like trying to grasp grains of sand from the breeze. However, there was one dominant image that kept returning. Every time she slipped into deep unconscious sleep Angel joined her. Her eyelids weighed heavy against her cheeks, but Willow could see farther than the boundaries of optical darkness. Foregrounded in her mind and her sight was Angel. Throughout her sleep, he comforted her. He wrapped Willow's mind and soul with his essence. She wiped the tears from his eyes when he cried and apologized for getting her into this situation. Willow tried to wipe the guilt away along with those bloody tears. She could never blame him. Not in this place where their souls met, where there could be no pain. She felt none of the chains of human emotions. Nothing but love pervaded her soul's existence. The pain only came when Willow slipped into consciousness and out of the dream state where love and Angel existed as one. As the dreams faded, Angel faded along with them, leaving Willow's memories and her thoughts empty, only to be filled by the painful aching of her sore body. It wasn't until the next evening that Willow was pulled out of her dreams for the last time. It took her several minutes before she could open her eyes and when she did there was a red haze that colored her vision making it almost impossible to see. Willow tried to stretch and felt every muscle in her body screaming in protest.
As Willow's vision cleared, her other senses began to return. Willow's brain slowly processed the scent of roses. Confused, Willow blinked and looked around the room, trying to find the source of the wonderful scent. Pulling herself slowly into a sitting position, Willow realized that she was lying in a literal bed of roses. Cupping a handful of multi-colored rose petals, Willow let them slip lazily through her fingers, to mix once again with the pile around her. Willow continued to stretch and with surprise she realized she was no longer handcuffed to the bed. Her arms and legs were free. Of course, her body still pounded out a steady rhythm of pain and so she doubted she could even use this advantage farther from relaxing her sore muscles. She was pretty certain she wouldn't be able to get out of bed anytime soon. Gazing around the room, Willow saw she was alone. Her eyes fell on to the dresser next to the bed. A tall, inviting glass of orange juice lay just out of reach. Willow's mouth began to water. As Willow clucked her tongue, trying to clear her mouth of the incessant dryness, she carefully rolled closer to the dresser, her fingers grasping for the cool glass. With great effort, Willow pulled herself into a semi-sitting position and brought the glass to her mouth. Each sip revitalized her, spreading like liquid ice through her veins, chasing away bits and pieces of lethargy. When the juice was finished, Willow allowed herself to slump down into the comfortable pillows, her body's movement displacing the roses. Willow could feel sleepiness lurking at the recesses of her mind, waiting to snatch her up again, but first, Willow had some things she needed to consider. Memories of the other night, however long ago that night had been, danced through her mind. Willow was still very much afraid of Angelus. He may not have killed her then but she harbored no illusions that she might be saved or that he'd develop a heart and let her go. His very nature was evil and so it was only a matter of time before he killed her, or worse. Willow shuddered at the thought. Willow jerked her head up, wincing at the pain from her sore muscles, at the sound of the heavy iron door being pushed open. Spiky brown tufts followed by a flash of dark, mischievous eyes filled Willow's vision as Angel stepped into the room, carelessly shoving the door closed behind him as if it weighed nothing. His eyes smoldered as he stood casually by the door, taking in Willow's frozen form. "It looks like my little birdie is finally awake. What say thee raven, was your sleep a peaceful one?" Willow blinked as she tried to gage his mood. As usual, it was unreadable. His voice was a silky purr that gave the illusion of pleasure, but his eyes flashed with a fire that took Willow's breath away, chilling her to the bone. Whatever he was thinking, he definitely had something in mind for her tonight. She could tell by the way he stalked the perimeter of the bed, each step purposeful and well timed. That was something Willow had begun to notice, and even appreciate about Angelus. He exuded a calculated control and calm, at least when he wasn't in a rage, that impressed Willow. Angel had always been the strong, silent type. Angelus, by contrast, was sharp-tongued, and obviously quite clever. Every movement, every word, every look, seemed to be calculated for efficiency of motion and of result. It was obvious to Willow that a brilliant mind lied in the fathomless depths of his eyes. It was a shame, really, that it was used entirely for evil. Willow couldn't help but wonder at the accomplishments Angel would have made in the world, for the world, if it hadn't been for Darla. Angelus stopped once he reached Willow's side and took a seat at the edge of the bed, his body angled so that he hovered over her. He didn't say anything, and Willow realized he was waiting for her to answer his question. "I'm fine," she croaked, fearful of the predatory glint in his deep-set eyes. "My poor Willow, you're throat is all hoarse. Now what on earth could have caused that?" A slow, deliberate smile complimented the sarcasm in his voice, and Willow felt her temper flare despite her fear. Angelus ignored Willow's fuming and placed a hand onto her stomach and, for the first time, Willow realized that she wasn't wearing any clothes. Sometime, while she was unconscious, Angelus must have undressed her, because all she was wearing now was her black lace bra and matching panties. Willow felt the heat rising in her cheeks as her eyes took in the bra she had brought on a whim a few weeks ago with Buffy. The only reason she had put it on was because she had been planning to see Oz the other night and well, the bra had made her feel beautiful. All it did now was make her painfully aware of how much skin she was exposing. Her nipples were readily visible through the lace pattern for anyone to gaze upon, and, at the moment, anyone counted as Angelus. His gaze was lascivious as his eyes roamed over her chest. His deft fingers traced circles on her stomach, making her shiver. Angelus lowered his head until Willow could feel his cold lips against her bare skin, grazing the valley between her breasts. "Has anyone ever told you how much black lace suits you Willow. The contrast with your pale skin is really quite stunning... enough to take a man's breathe away." Willow drew in a sharp breath and tried to scamper out from under Angelus, but she soon found it impossible. His body was now on top of hers, holding her captive. While Willow struggled futilely against Angelus, he continued his oral exploration of her breasts. His tongue darted between the lace, suckling at the warm skin with infantile exuberance. He carefully avoided her nipples, preferring to tease her through denial of what she wanted. And she did want it. Without meaning to, Willow's body was responding to him. Her breathing and heart rate had quickened, and not just from fear, but becoming an irregular, uncontrollable testament to her desire. When his tongue danced across one of her nipples on it's way to her other breast, Willow couldn't stop the moan that escaped from her lips. Willow knew it was wrong to be feeling this way, especially with Angelus. Not only did she have a boyfriend, not only was this Buffy's ex-boyfriend, but this was a demon. The only pleasure he knew was that which he sought for himself, sadistically stealing it from others, and so she shouldn't be feeling pleasure from him. Her mind knew this much, but her body responded to a different sort of logic. The desire that coursed through her veins at his presence was one as old as man, one as old as animals. At this moment in time, reason abandoned Willow and she lusted for him. Before Willow could even finish her thought, her mind shut down; all rational, comprehensible thought held ransom by the fire that was flaring throughout her body. His lips had abandoned her breasts to his hands, moving on to explore the flat contours of her lower stomach. Willow began to writhe beneath Angelus, one hand gripping the bed sheets beneath her, the other hooking itself onto the silky strands of Angelus' hair. His tongue had sensitized Willow, causing the pads of her palms to tingle at the feel of his hair beneath them. Abruptly, Angelus broke all contact with Willow's body, gracefully rising from the bed in a single movement. A feral light shone in his eyes, his lips curled in a cruel, self-satisfied smile. "Well, well, well, looks like Willow the cat is alive. My little alleycat in her black lace bra and panties." Chuckling, Angelus left, leaving a flushed and panting Willow alone in her bed of roses.
Part 3 Days passed, though how many Willow wasn't sure. Being stuck in a windowless, clockless room didn't make it easy to keep track of time. She supposed if the amount of time Angelus had visited her was any record, then she had been his captive for a couple of weeks. Not that it mattered anymore. Time no longer existed in Willow's universe. Her world was dominated by the strong, hard body of Angelus; by sharp fangs and dark, piercing eyes. By bottles of champagne and silver platters of strawberries. By handcuffs and forceful assaults on her body that would always leave her feverishly hot and unsatisfied. In the past week, Angelus had explored just about every inch of her body with his tongue, at least, every inch of her body above her waist. He would spend up to an hour getting her worked up, despite her reservations, and then leave her on the peak, denying her any form of release. The previous night, Willow had gotten so desperate she had flung her pride aside and resorted to begging. Pulling herself onto her knees, Willow had reached for Angelus' retreating form, crying out for him to stay. Sneering, he'd pushed her onto her back and taken her, his mouth enveloping her nipple, his fangs piercing the skin of her breasts. The last thing Willow remembered were her tears mixing with the bloody rivulets dripping from Angelus' mouth as he kissed her into unconsciousness. Now Willow was alone. As always, she had awoken to find a tray of food and orange juice by the bed. Only a few hours had passed since then and she had yet to touch it. Instead, she lay with her head buried beneath the pillows, trying hard not to think of anything at all, less her thoughts lead to tears. It was now that Willow realized what Angelus meant to do with to her. He wasn't going to torture her with a chainsaw and knives; none of that conventional stuff would do. No, he was going to drive her crazy with her own wanton desires. He would make her want him by appealing to the purely animalistic desire that existed in her, and it would work because, after all, she was only human. Already it was working. He had Willow begging; he had her quivering under his touch. He had her waiting for his visits, wondering if this time he would finally make good on the promises his tongue made. The heat of his touch was driving Willow insane. Though it brought her shame during the daylight hours, when she was left alone to contemplate her actions, Willow couldn't help her body's response to his various caresses. And now, after the previous night's behavior, Willow was forcing herself to deny the one comfort she had. The past week, her saving grace from total insanity had come while she was sleeping, spending her daylight hours in dreams where Angel was constantly at her side to comfort her. Her visits with Angelus during her waking hours were almost inevitably followed by visits with Angel while her body was unconscious, trying hard to recover from the damage Angelus would inflict. Those dream moments with Angel, where he would comfort and talk to her, helping to stave off the insanity over her present situation, were what helped her during those lonely daylight hours. Only now, Willow couldn't even have that. After last night, Willow couldn't face Angel. Not when she had shoved her pride and dignity aside for sexual desire. Willow was doing a good enough job berating herself over her actions and desires, she couldn't face Angel's recriminations and disappointment in her. So, in order to avoid Angel, Willow had to avoid sleep. It was difficult, especially after the amount of blood Angelus had taken from her the previous evening. He would be back that night, and he would drink from her again. And if she didn't get any rest during the day there was no way her body would be recovered enough to handle the loss of more blood. To make matters worse, not only was Willow denying herself sleep, but she couldn't eat. Just looking at food was enough to make her throat fill with bile. Willow had taken on the responsibility of punishing herself and she wasn't going to back down, even if it meant pretty much signing her own death warrant. Tonight's visit with Angelus, with her already so weak, would be too much too handle. But maybe that was for the best. With each passing hour, Willow grew weaker, until she no longer had the strength to remain conscious. As her eyes fluttered closed, Willow had one last thought. ******** Angelus was restless, though why, he wasn't quite sure. His plans for tormenting the slayer couldn't have been going better. The usually spunky slayer had undergone a drastic personality change in the weeks since Angelus had kidnapped the little witch. As the days morphed into weeks, most of the life had drained out of the slayer. She now sported regular bags under her eyes, was showing physical wear around the edges, and her usual biting quips hadn't been quite up to par. Each of these signs Angelus drank in with relish, knowing he was the cause. The indomitable Buffy was crumbling under what she considered her failure. Her failure to protect Willow and then her failure to rescue her. Angelus knew that it would only take a couple of more weeks before Buffy had a total breakdown. He chuckled deep in his throat, satisfaction and the taste of victory lifting his spirits immensely. Yet the satisfaction of his imminent triumph over the slayer wasn't the only thing Angelus was feeling. Beneath the satisfaction and devilish glee ran deeper emotions, ones the demon preferred not to dwell on. Thoughts of his captive witch brought a burning rage to the demon. The demon knew he was getting attached to the witch, each visit with her affecting Angelus in ways beyond the expected sexual pleasure. There was no doubt about it, Willow had an amazing body. He would never understand why she continually chose to keep it hidden under all those baggy clothes of hers. Angelus received great pleasure in viewing Willow's naked flesh. Unlike the slayer, who was all hard muscles and toned physique, Willow was pure woman. Every inch of her flesh was soft and pleasing to the touch. She was all sensuous curves and beguiling femininity. Angelus could lose himself in the soft curve of her throat for hours. With each passing day she was holding him as much captive as he was her, Enraged at the thought, Angelus shot up from the satin sheets of his bed and began to pace before the huge mahogany doorway to his bedroom. Angelus wasn't quite sure what this hold Willow had over him meant, but he did know one thing. The demon in him didn't like it. There was no doubt in his mind. The girl would have to be killed. As soon as he was through using her to destroy the slayer, he would drink from her for the last time. He just hoped that by then it wouldn't be too late. Pushing that thought away, Angelus emerged from his bedroom to begin his night of slayer terrorization. But firstů a quick visit with the witch couldn't hurt. He was hungry, and a vision of cypress eyes and creamy skin was haunting his mind. Smiling, Angelus headed towards the cemetery. Ten minutes after leaving the mansion, Angelus received the shock of his life. He knew the moment he descended underground, below the carefully selected crypt that housed the entrance to the special room Angelus had built just for Willow, that something wasn't right. With the trained eyes of a predator, Angelus glared at the fresh track marks laid by feet too small to be his own. Feeling his entire body tense, Angelus lifted his head to sniff slightly at the air. Beneath the smell of damp earth, a subtler, sweeter scent permeated the air. Angelus immediately recognized it as Lilacs. With what would have been described as panic in anyone else yet, of course, Angelus never panicked, the demon tore down the earthen tunnel, trying to tell himself that the scent could not be from Buffy's perfume. When he was 50 feet away from the door, Angelus knew for certain that the witch was gone. He could see the heavy iron door was open, which Willow could never have opened on her own, even if Angelus hadn't been feeding from her nightly for weeks. Angelus ran the remaining distance and burst into the room. Aside from the open door and the fact that the room was now empty, there weren't any other disturbances. Everything was exactly as he had left it the previous night, minus one red headed witch. The sight of the bare bed helped bring the rage that had been building inside of him, sparked by the scent of Buffy's perfume, to the surface. The fact that he could still pick up the lingering scent of Willow's blood only added to his fury as he proceeded to trash the room, a mixture of animalistic growls and quite human expletives pouring from his mouth. In his mind's eye he saw the slayer, not as she usually looked, but the way she would when he got through with her. When he had her coughing up bone splinters and begging for her pitiful life. Then he would make the little witch pay for trying to escape him. He'd been holding himself back when he was with her, enjoying the torture he inflicted by denying her an orgasm at his hands. Now he wouldn't reign himself in. When he had her back he was going to fuck her till she couldn't walk. He didn't give two shits if she was a virgin. He was going to tear the walls of her vagina and make her scream with pleasure. Then, maybe just for the hell of it, he'd turn her so he could spend centuries, taking his sweet time, to punish her. The thought was satisfying and the demon went out to begin his hunt with the sound of Willow's screams filling his mind.
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