Angel's POV

Even now, after I had satisfying sex with Buffy, I'm thinking of her. I realize that it's gone beyond appreciating Willow's beauty. I'd always respected her on some level, but kept away from her alluring innocence and her equally alluring curves. Because she was so innocent. My demon wanted her. Angelus wanted her. And that kept me from going after her. I shouldn't be with someone Angelus wants, because that is just a clear sign that it's wrong.

But it didn't keep me from fantasizing about her. All the time. From late at night til the afternoon when I slept. During the evening while we trained. Every night when I went patrolling with the Scoobies.

In my dreams, we would be training and I'd pin her to the ground or the wall and we'd start kissing. That dream actually came true and replaying the act was better than the dreams had been. I always embellished, of course, but still. Or sometimes, we'd be on patrol, just us, and she'd get hurt...just a scratch or something, and she'd let me lick the blood away and we'd have sex right there on the ground. No...not sex. We'd fuck each other senseless on the grass or in a crypt or on a grave. I didn't care where, really.

I was a horrible person for wishing she'd get hurt. Even if it was just a little scratch. And I knew that. But it didn't stop me from wishing it.

So I lay beside Buffy's naked sleeping form, listening to her deep breathing and her heartbeat, holding her close. I didn't breath because her scent would spoil the illusion I had in my mind. The illusion of a soft, very dainty body against mine with red hair tickling my nose.

If I could just convince myself it was really Willow with me...maybe I could be happy. Milk this for all it's worth.

Yeah. Strawberries, I think of the scent so hard that I'm sure I can smell them. Strawberries and innocence and Willow. She's not toned and hard, but soft and fragile so I loosen my grip as not to hurt her.

Her hair is tickling my nose but I just nuzzle in closer, skimming my hand down her sides. My imagination lets me believe the skin I'm feeling is softer than in reality. Because Willow's skin is softer than Buffy's. It's almost like velvet and silk, soft like her hair and luxurious.

Yeah. This is Willow in my arms. Willow Rosenberg. The most beautiful person I've ever met...inside and out. And that's when the pain rips through me.

Angelus' POV

I know how I got here. I know Soul boy was so scared of his growing feelings for My Witch that he pushed himself into things with His Slayer. She offered herself to him and he jumped at the chance, pictures of my redheaded beauty in our mind almost the entire time. They wouldn't seem to stay away long, even when he pushed them back or forced himself to look at the blonde.

He felt me coming and ran outside, to get away from the Slayer. He doesn't want to hurt her. He doesn't want to hurt anyone.

But I have no intention of keeping up his stupid charade. None at all.

I want my family back. I want my witch. And unlike Angel, I go after...and get what I want. I don't care who I hurt to get it. The Slayer would be a bonus.

So I run down the streets of Sunnydale, toward my Witch's house. The dark house we drop her off at everynight. I run up the car-less driveway and around the back to Willow's frenchdoors. She's inside, peacefully sleeping on her bed. She's not on her back, snoring softly like the the Slayer does. She's curled on her side like she's waiting for me to curl in behind her. Hair is fanned out behind her and her hands are under her face, palms together as if praying.

She looks so beautiful and innocent and trusting that I want to wake her up and fuck her, claim her, right then. But I don't. I can't. I have to woo her if I ever hope for her to stay. For her not to run.

I let myself in, having been invited when I was Soul Boy and I sit in the computer chair by her desk, across from the foot of her bed. She really does look beautiful as she sleeps. Her breaths are deep and even, her mouth slightly parted. I love her. She's mine.