Part Ten
Willow's mind was racing but her body was falling and the door was already closing behind her, behind them, closing on all the light and the noise and the people so that by the time she hit the floor she couldn't see what she'd hit, couldn't see anything in fact, and the sound of her own breathing seemed was loud in the sudden silence.
Angelus' hands on her shoulders, Angelus' voice, Angelus' eyes looking into hers.
He'd looked very angry, Willow thought, right before he'd shoved her into silence and shut the door on the rest of the world. And now he was in there with her, somewhere, and she kept thinking that her eyes were going to adjust. Except that they didn't, because there was no light at all, not even enough to be afraid by, and he wasn't doing anything or saying anything or attacking her and it was driving her crazy.
After a few more hideous seconds of waiting, Willow finally looked up. Maybe he wanted to see the fear in her eyes. Fine. No problem there. Fear o'plenty. Fear by the bucketful and she tried to put all of it in her eyes as she stared at the place in the absolute darkness where she'd last seen Angelus.
Of course, he could have moved. He could be anywhere. No, Willow thought, I'd have heard him move. Wouldn't I? I hope I would...
To ward off the disturbing potential of Angelus-lurkage she stared fixedly ahead, trying very hard to believe that she could see him. Over there. Away from her.
Getting up from the softly carpeted floor was an option, but not really a good one. Moving around would increase the amount of places where she knew Angelus was not, and thus would in effect find him, like some kind of twisted backwards version of hide and go seek. She didn't want to find him. She didn't want him to find her, either. She wanted a time machine so she could go back a week and help Buffy by buying her a puppy. Or shoes. Or that blue top she wanted...
What might have been an alarmingly long shopping list of regrets came to an abrupt end when Willow realized that something that felt alarmingly like a shoe was prodding her in the ribs. Hard.
Willow smothered a small frightened noise and squirmed away from the thing that was not a shoe, definitely not a shoe, and her back made contact with something that felt like, but obviously couldn't be, a leg.
Her mind kept ticking against her will, remorselessly adding up that a leg on one side of her plus a shoe on the other side equaled...
In what she would later acknowledge to be a very bad move, Willow rolled onto her back and peered up into the darkness above her, struggling to discern a face.
It could be someone else, she thought. It could be Buffy. It must be Buffy. She noticed that I was missing and came in and silently managed to get in this room and is playing mind games with me...
Yeah, Willow thought. It's not Buffy.
And then she wasn't thinking anything because there was a sudden weight on top of her, heavier than anything, colder than Xander's hands and it was crushing the air out of her and Angelus' face was suddenly inches away from her own, a pale blurred oval with unreadable eyes and a dark smiling slash for a mouth.
Not a good thing, Willow thought. Not good at all!
Angelus raised himself up on his elbows and Willow could breathe again, although maybe not, because he took her head in his hands and his fingers were buried deep in her hair, shivery and cold against her scalp and somehow more intimate than the press of his legs against hers because that was force, that was hate, and this was different and new and like something Oz might do someday or Xander, maybe, but not Angelus.
But putting all that aside, Willow still had to breathe and when she took a breath she saw with alarm that Angelus' eyes followed the movement of her chest. Up and down and up and down and...
Shouldn't he be looking at her throat? Not that she *wanted* him to look at her - never mind.
Angelus trailed a finger down Willow's cheek and she just hoped that she wasn't blushing, that would be embarrassing and also somehow inappropriate, under the circumstances.
"Willow," Angelus said in a slow voice.
Eep, Willow thought. No, wait! He said we needed to talk. Talk!
"You said that we need to talk?" Willow said hopefully, trying to sound confident and unconcerned, like she wasn't trapped under a heavy vampire in a dark room.
Angelus' smile confirmed Willow's suspicion that she hadn't quite managed to pull off confident and unconcerned. Maybe next time she should go for confident and terrified.
"Did you know," Angelus said conversationally, his hand moving again, tracing the line of her lips, running lower to skim her collarbone. "That when you're afraid," His fingers dipped under the neckline of Willow's sweater, and her stomach dropped to her knees and he looked at her almost fondly and said, "the scent of your blood changes."
Eep, Willow thought again. That's not going to do me any good at all.
"What do we need to talk about?" Willow tried again. Please say the weather, she thought.
Angelus' smile disappeared. "Do you know what I found when I went to visit you this evening?"
That has to be rhetorical, Willow thought.
Angelus' lips tightened over suddenly pointed teeth. He moved on top of her in a way that was wholly disturbing, settling her more firmly against him.
"What. Did. I. Find," Angelus said, his fingers curling in her hair and digging into her scalp.
"A..protection spell.." Willow said, trying to keep perfectly still as movement brought pain, and also more body-to-body friction than she was used to.
Angelus' grip gentled slightly, and his game face vanished.
"Yes," Angelus said, his voice returning to its normal silky purr. "A protection spell, clever little witch. And you. Gone."
Willow felt a vague impulse to apologize, but fought it down. I don't belong to him, she thought fiercely. Not now. Not ever!
Angelus' eyes narrowed. "You're lucky tonight," he said, "I'm not going to punish you. Say thank you."
"Thank you, Angelus," Willow said after a pause, because really, if all she had to do was say thank you, that was good. She'd send him a thank you muffin basket if he wanted one.
"Don't thank me yet," Angelus said, and Willow opened her mouth and closed it again. "You didn't break any *specific* rules," he continued lightly. "I blame myself, really."
It was strange, the contrast between his voice and his actions and his eyes, Willow thought. Because his tone was so casual, like they really were discussing the weather, but he was arching backwards now and pulling her up with him, not even letting her put a breath of air between them, and she couldn't really see his eyes but she thought that they'd be furious.
Angelus pulled her close until her head was forced against his chest, smothering her again. His voice was cold as he whispered in her ear, "Every pet needs guidelines, or they'll just run wild. Can't blame you for that. But if you know the rules and break them, it's a whole different ballgame. One that I'd enjoy teaching you... and your friends."
Willow swallowed. It was so dark. And he was so close. And there were about ten million things about torture and pain that he knew and she didn't.
"What are the rules?" Willow asked. It's just like in school, she thought. Like a course outlines. What books to read, what essay format to use, threats about plagiarism. That's all. I can do this. I'm good at following the rules.
"If you want to leave the house after sunset, you *ask* the night before," Angelus said.
Willow grimaced, but nodded. At least he wasn't telling her to *never* leave the house.
"Never revoke my invitation again," Angelus said. "Tell no one of your new... situation."
Yeah, Willow thought. I'm clear on those ones. Really, really clear.
She nodded.
Angelus pulled her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"That's it for the moment. But understand, you *belong* to me, Willow. If you don't accept that people will die, and you will suffer. That you have even part of your normal life remaining is entirely because that's how I want it to be. For now."
Willow had to fight back the words that jumped to her lips. She didn't belong to him. Also, she didn't want to hear him say her name like that ever again.
"Fight me if you have to," Angelus said after a moment, watching her. "I'll enjoy teaching you to behave."
I don't like the way he said that, Willow thought. I *believe* him, but I don't like it. Unconsciousness is starting to look really good right about now.
Might as well get the next bit over with, she decided reluctantly. More talking could only lead to trouble.
She tiled her head to one side and offered him her neck. She could feel his muscles tighten as he realized what she was doing.
Soft lips grazed the bared line of her neck and Willow jerked away in surprise, her eyes flying up to meet his.
The shadow of a smile was on Angelus' lips. "Why, Willow," he said and yes, that was exactly how she hadn't wanted him to say her name again, "are you offering yourself to me?"
Willow nodded, puzzled. It wasn't like she had a choice, she thought.
And then Angelus' mouth was pressed tight to hers, crushing her lips against her teeth and forcing her mouth to open under his. It only lasted for a second, a confused second of pain and panic, and then Angelus was pulling away, eyes still open and staring at her. There was darkness in his eyes, satisfaction too, Willow thought, and it must be a skewed mirror image of the stunned comprehension in hers.
"I accept," Angelus said.
_______
Tell me what you think?
So sorry for the delay, darling people. I've been having computer and e- mail problems, not necessarily at the same time, but fairly devastating all the same. Damn it, I want a working computer again. Grr.
I'm now operating on an entirely new hard drive, without any of my pretty old files or saved documents, but I'm still taking time away from my efforts to save my old system to write about Angelus. Frankly, after spending eight hours on the phone with technical support, I *need* to write about Angelus. Or eat pizza. But, sadly, I have no pizza.
Uh, yes. Enough of me. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
Willow's mind was racing but her body was falling and the door was already closing behind her, behind them, closing on all the light and the noise and the people so that by the time she hit the floor she couldn't see what she'd hit, couldn't see anything in fact, and the sound of her own breathing seemed was loud in the sudden silence.
Angelus' hands on her shoulders, Angelus' voice, Angelus' eyes looking into hers.
He'd looked very angry, Willow thought, right before he'd shoved her into silence and shut the door on the rest of the world. And now he was in there with her, somewhere, and she kept thinking that her eyes were going to adjust. Except that they didn't, because there was no light at all, not even enough to be afraid by, and he wasn't doing anything or saying anything or attacking her and it was driving her crazy.
After a few more hideous seconds of waiting, Willow finally looked up. Maybe he wanted to see the fear in her eyes. Fine. No problem there. Fear o'plenty. Fear by the bucketful and she tried to put all of it in her eyes as she stared at the place in the absolute darkness where she'd last seen Angelus.
Of course, he could have moved. He could be anywhere. No, Willow thought, I'd have heard him move. Wouldn't I? I hope I would...
To ward off the disturbing potential of Angelus-lurkage she stared fixedly ahead, trying very hard to believe that she could see him. Over there. Away from her.
Getting up from the softly carpeted floor was an option, but not really a good one. Moving around would increase the amount of places where she knew Angelus was not, and thus would in effect find him, like some kind of twisted backwards version of hide and go seek. She didn't want to find him. She didn't want him to find her, either. She wanted a time machine so she could go back a week and help Buffy by buying her a puppy. Or shoes. Or that blue top she wanted...
What might have been an alarmingly long shopping list of regrets came to an abrupt end when Willow realized that something that felt alarmingly like a shoe was prodding her in the ribs. Hard.
Willow smothered a small frightened noise and squirmed away from the thing that was not a shoe, definitely not a shoe, and her back made contact with something that felt like, but obviously couldn't be, a leg.
Her mind kept ticking against her will, remorselessly adding up that a leg on one side of her plus a shoe on the other side equaled...
In what she would later acknowledge to be a very bad move, Willow rolled onto her back and peered up into the darkness above her, struggling to discern a face.
It could be someone else, she thought. It could be Buffy. It must be Buffy. She noticed that I was missing and came in and silently managed to get in this room and is playing mind games with me...
Yeah, Willow thought. It's not Buffy.
And then she wasn't thinking anything because there was a sudden weight on top of her, heavier than anything, colder than Xander's hands and it was crushing the air out of her and Angelus' face was suddenly inches away from her own, a pale blurred oval with unreadable eyes and a dark smiling slash for a mouth.
Not a good thing, Willow thought. Not good at all!
Angelus raised himself up on his elbows and Willow could breathe again, although maybe not, because he took her head in his hands and his fingers were buried deep in her hair, shivery and cold against her scalp and somehow more intimate than the press of his legs against hers because that was force, that was hate, and this was different and new and like something Oz might do someday or Xander, maybe, but not Angelus.
But putting all that aside, Willow still had to breathe and when she took a breath she saw with alarm that Angelus' eyes followed the movement of her chest. Up and down and up and down and...
Shouldn't he be looking at her throat? Not that she *wanted* him to look at her - never mind.
Angelus trailed a finger down Willow's cheek and she just hoped that she wasn't blushing, that would be embarrassing and also somehow inappropriate, under the circumstances.
"Willow," Angelus said in a slow voice.
Eep, Willow thought. No, wait! He said we needed to talk. Talk!
"You said that we need to talk?" Willow said hopefully, trying to sound confident and unconcerned, like she wasn't trapped under a heavy vampire in a dark room.
Angelus' smile confirmed Willow's suspicion that she hadn't quite managed to pull off confident and unconcerned. Maybe next time she should go for confident and terrified.
"Did you know," Angelus said conversationally, his hand moving again, tracing the line of her lips, running lower to skim her collarbone. "That when you're afraid," His fingers dipped under the neckline of Willow's sweater, and her stomach dropped to her knees and he looked at her almost fondly and said, "the scent of your blood changes."
Eep, Willow thought again. That's not going to do me any good at all.
"What do we need to talk about?" Willow tried again. Please say the weather, she thought.
Angelus' smile disappeared. "Do you know what I found when I went to visit you this evening?"
That has to be rhetorical, Willow thought.
Angelus' lips tightened over suddenly pointed teeth. He moved on top of her in a way that was wholly disturbing, settling her more firmly against him.
"What. Did. I. Find," Angelus said, his fingers curling in her hair and digging into her scalp.
"A..protection spell.." Willow said, trying to keep perfectly still as movement brought pain, and also more body-to-body friction than she was used to.
Angelus' grip gentled slightly, and his game face vanished.
"Yes," Angelus said, his voice returning to its normal silky purr. "A protection spell, clever little witch. And you. Gone."
Willow felt a vague impulse to apologize, but fought it down. I don't belong to him, she thought fiercely. Not now. Not ever!
Angelus' eyes narrowed. "You're lucky tonight," he said, "I'm not going to punish you. Say thank you."
"Thank you, Angelus," Willow said after a pause, because really, if all she had to do was say thank you, that was good. She'd send him a thank you muffin basket if he wanted one.
"Don't thank me yet," Angelus said, and Willow opened her mouth and closed it again. "You didn't break any *specific* rules," he continued lightly. "I blame myself, really."
It was strange, the contrast between his voice and his actions and his eyes, Willow thought. Because his tone was so casual, like they really were discussing the weather, but he was arching backwards now and pulling her up with him, not even letting her put a breath of air between them, and she couldn't really see his eyes but she thought that they'd be furious.
Angelus pulled her close until her head was forced against his chest, smothering her again. His voice was cold as he whispered in her ear, "Every pet needs guidelines, or they'll just run wild. Can't blame you for that. But if you know the rules and break them, it's a whole different ballgame. One that I'd enjoy teaching you... and your friends."
Willow swallowed. It was so dark. And he was so close. And there were about ten million things about torture and pain that he knew and she didn't.
"What are the rules?" Willow asked. It's just like in school, she thought. Like a course outlines. What books to read, what essay format to use, threats about plagiarism. That's all. I can do this. I'm good at following the rules.
"If you want to leave the house after sunset, you *ask* the night before," Angelus said.
Willow grimaced, but nodded. At least he wasn't telling her to *never* leave the house.
"Never revoke my invitation again," Angelus said. "Tell no one of your new... situation."
Yeah, Willow thought. I'm clear on those ones. Really, really clear.
She nodded.
Angelus pulled her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"That's it for the moment. But understand, you *belong* to me, Willow. If you don't accept that people will die, and you will suffer. That you have even part of your normal life remaining is entirely because that's how I want it to be. For now."
Willow had to fight back the words that jumped to her lips. She didn't belong to him. Also, she didn't want to hear him say her name like that ever again.
"Fight me if you have to," Angelus said after a moment, watching her. "I'll enjoy teaching you to behave."
I don't like the way he said that, Willow thought. I *believe* him, but I don't like it. Unconsciousness is starting to look really good right about now.
Might as well get the next bit over with, she decided reluctantly. More talking could only lead to trouble.
She tiled her head to one side and offered him her neck. She could feel his muscles tighten as he realized what she was doing.
Soft lips grazed the bared line of her neck and Willow jerked away in surprise, her eyes flying up to meet his.
The shadow of a smile was on Angelus' lips. "Why, Willow," he said and yes, that was exactly how she hadn't wanted him to say her name again, "are you offering yourself to me?"
Willow nodded, puzzled. It wasn't like she had a choice, she thought.
And then Angelus' mouth was pressed tight to hers, crushing her lips against her teeth and forcing her mouth to open under his. It only lasted for a second, a confused second of pain and panic, and then Angelus was pulling away, eyes still open and staring at her. There was darkness in his eyes, satisfaction too, Willow thought, and it must be a skewed mirror image of the stunned comprehension in hers.
"I accept," Angelus said.
_______
Tell me what you think?
So sorry for the delay, darling people. I've been having computer and e- mail problems, not necessarily at the same time, but fairly devastating all the same. Damn it, I want a working computer again. Grr.
I'm now operating on an entirely new hard drive, without any of my pretty old files or saved documents, but I'm still taking time away from my efforts to save my old system to write about Angelus. Frankly, after spending eight hours on the phone with technical support, I *need* to write about Angelus. Or eat pizza. But, sadly, I have no pizza.
Uh, yes. Enough of me. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!