Rating: NC-17
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.
Distribution: Night Flowers http://www.geocities.com/kallierose01/
The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Sure, take it if you want it. Just let me know where it's going so I can visit
it.
Feedback: Pretty please.
Spoilers: Season 7.
Author's Note: This is a very dark fic. Does not have a happy ending.
Pairing: Willow/Angelus
Summary: Angelus makes an appearance and kidnaps Willow.
She used to worry that she'd retreat so deep into her fantasy world that the real one wouldn't exist anymore. It would just slowly and silently slip away. She doesn't worry about that anymore. There's no longer anything, or anyone, waiting for her in this world. Just sadness and pain.
They sat quietly on the couch, the soft light of the fire dancing along her red hair, turning it into liquid copper. Hundreds of candles lit every corner of the room, casting shadows of the vampire and his witch. His voice was warm and seductive as he read to her. She sat on his lap, arms around his neck, following the words on the page with her eyes, as her ears were seduced by the sound of his soft voice. She moved her hands, using them to frame his face, as she pulled his lips towards hers for a deep kiss.
"Willow," he groaned, "I'll never finish this chapter if you don't stop that. You promised you'd be a good girl and let me read to you."
"Don't wanna," she purred, pressing her lips against his ear. She teased him, nipping and sucking the lobe into her mouth, then releasing it so that she could kiss a trail of fire down his neck. She loved his neck. The way the cold column of flesh felt against her warm lips, the way it smelled like him, just him, with nothing added to ruin his special scent.
Finally he gave in, turning his body so that he faced her, his soft brown eyes smiling into her sparkling green ones. Willow knew he loved her like this, playful and teasing, yet gentle. He could never resist her. And she thanked whoever was in the sky above her that he loved her.
It seemed like Willow had loved him ever since the first day she met him. She had seen his face, and every single emotion she had ever felt for Xander became a shadow of a feeling, while her passion for him had become a strong, raging fire, devouring everyone and anyone in its path. A fire that she had had to hide for a long time for fear of hurting Buffy-her best friend, and her most bitter rival. Not that Buffy had ever guessed the feelings that she felt for Angel. The rivalry between them had gone on entirely in Willow's mind. But now it didn't matter.
"Well if you're not going to play fair, my love, shall we go upstairs and finish this in more comfortable surroundings?"
She sighed, reluctant to leave the warmth of the fire. Yet she knew how much fun they could have in the bedroom. Especially when Angel was appropriately inspired. With a grin, she held her hand out to him, and together they race up the steps. It was a little game they played, a fight for control-whoever got to the bedroom first got to be on top. He usually lets her win, gave her the illusion that she was the one in charge. But she'd seen him in action. She knows what he could do if he really wanted.
This time Willow decided to let him win, and as they tumbled together into the bedroom, she quickly pulled off her clothes. Shirt, pants, bra, and socks; they all went flying in her haste to be naked, to be under him. She flung herself down on the bed to wait for him.
Though he was just as eager as she was, he was always much neater. Willow growled in frustration as he slowly took off his shoes and placed his shirt on a hanger. She suspected that he did this deliberately, just to make her crazy. Finally she could wait no longer. She jumped up and grabbed his arm, pulling him onto the bed. "You can fold your freakin' pants later!" she told him as she grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the bed.
"So young and so impatient," he rebuked her teasingly, his lips curved into a loving smile.
"Shut up and make love to me."
"If the lady insists," Angel murmured, leaning over her prone body.
He started at the tip of her head, paying homage to her body with his lips. Craving more, her hands reached out for him, but he simply grabbed them in one of his larger hands and held them over her head. She smiled knowingly. He was telling her that she may have initiated this game, but he would be the one to make the rules. He gave her a warning glance then let go of her hands. She smiled. She knew the rules. Keeping her hands above her head, she played his game.
She moaned as he continued down her body. Her lips, her throat, the valley between her breasts, all received attention as he continued his pilgrimage. He reached her pert breasts, teasing them with his tongue and teeth. She groaned as her nipples hardened. The sensations seemed to start at her breasts but ended *everywhere*, making her feel warm and satisfied. He bit her nipple gently, startling her, and then moved to the other side, repeating the process.
With one last taste of her nipple, his lips moved further down, stopping to tickle her belly button with his tongue. She sighed, arching her back and pressing her stomach against his cold lips. He was driving her crazy, but in the best possible way.
Finally reaching her hips, his lips dipped between her legs, his nose nuzzling in her hair, breathing deeply of her scent. His tongue, his wonderfully talented tongue, snaked out and touched her center teasingly, just the lightest of touches. She moaned, trying to push his tongue further into her.
"Not yet, my love. Not until I say the word," he warned her. He sat back up, his erect cock high in the air. He held it and guided it into her.
"ANGEL! "
She screamed, pain exploding outward like wildfire from where the whip bit into the tender flesh of her shoulder. Ripped from her comfortable dream world, she returned to what had become her life.
"What did you just call me, bitch?"
"Ang-Angelus," she stuttered, pain and weariness making her falter uncertainly.
She was naked, chained with her arms above her head, feet barely able to touch the floor. He stood in front of her, an elegant figure in red silk and black leather. He is beautiful, just like in her dreams.
He swaggered towards her, his features enraged. Grabbing her chin with cruel fingers, he used it to pull her towards him, his face mere inches from her own.
"Don't lie to me," he yelled at her, the sound echoing in the basement he used as a dungeon. He pushed her away, letting her body swing back and forth, the pressure on her arms and shoulders almost unbearable. Taking a couple of steps back, he cracked the whip against the floor experimentally. Then he looked at her again and she knew what was coming.
He hit her over and over as she swayed this way and that, screaming hoarsely as the whip cut into her stomach, her shoulder, her buttocks, her breasts. He stopped occasionally to lick at the tendrils of blood running down her body, his tongue almost tender in its attentions. But just as soon as she would begin to relax, to feel something besides the unceasing pain, he would bite her. Not a gentle insertion of fangs, but a deep painful bite with blunt teeth. His aim was not to break the skin, but to cause the largest amount of pain possible.
"You taste wonderful," Angelus told her appreciatively. "Has anyone ever told you that," he wondered, not really expecting a reply.
After a while he got bored with that game and went back to the whip. Once again, her screams filled the room, bouncing off the walls to mingle with his demented laughter.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he stopped. "Thanks for the workout, little one. I'll be around later." Without even looking back at her, he stalked away, taking the stairs two at a time. He left her alone with her thoughts.
What had started it? When had it all gone so terribly wrong? She didn't know. And it really didn't matter to her now. Nothing mattered now. Nothing would ever matter again.
They first realized something was wrong when they read about Cordelia's murder. She had been beaten, raped and then drained. He had carved a stylized "A" into her hip, leaving a message for all who knew him. Next he went after Gunn, Fred, and Wesley. Same tortures, same "A" on the bodies.
By then the Sunnydale contingent had caught wind of it. Even with that knowledge, he was able to pick them off easily. First Anya then Giles, taken one night while working late at the Magic Box. Finally, in a blaze of fighting and taunting, he had killed Buffy. Xander and Willow did the only thing they could. They fled.
He caught up with them about a week later, sleeping in a car on the side of the road outside of a small town in Montana. One minute she was sleeping, the next minute she was watching Angelus break a window and drag Xander out of the car. Well, only far enough out so that he could tear out the boy's throat, leaving him by the side of the road, the blood oozing from the hole in his throat staining the gray gravel to red.
Willow remembered staring brokenheartedly at the body of her last remaining friend, terror rooting her to the spot. So this is how my life ends, she thought. But Angelus had other plans for her, something much more sinister and painful. He was going to allow her to live.
Her thoughts raced back to the here and now when she heard the familiar sound of the door opening. No, her mind screamed, not again. It was too soon. Surely he couldn't be back already, she thought desperately.
He entered the room silently, like the predator he was, his eyes riveted to hers. She wondered what was it he saw when he looked into her eyes. What was she to him? Was she just a new toy yet to be broken, or was it something deeper? A way at striking back at his soul and a form of vengeance against all those years the demon was locked away, unable to be in control?
"Did you miss me, little one?" He circled her body, watching her eyes grow panicked as he stepped behind her, beyond where her eyes were able to follow him. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his nose rubbing against the sweep of her neck.
Quietly he stripped off his pants, his already erect member standing proudly. Putting his hands on her hips to steady her, he thrust into her dry anus.
Willow screamed at the unexpected intrusion. He had given her no warning, no idea what was in store for her. Once he was inside her, he rode her roughly, thrusting in and out rapidly, her blood quickly providing lubrication.
The pain became slightly more bearable as her body adjusted to the size of his cock. Sensing this, he changed his tactics. Pulling back until only the head of his cock remained inside her still, he suddenly thrust forward, slamming into her as fast and as far as he could. A fresh scream and free-flowing tears were his reward. Grinding his cock into her again, he started taunting her.
"Your body is wonderful, Willow. So tight and sexy and warm. I could do this all night. Would you like that?"
She was silent, except for the soft moans of pain that escaped from her mouth. Annoyed by her lack of response, Angelus reached around her to cup her breasts. He used his hands to tease her nipples, his fingers moving gently, making promises to her body that she knew he never meant to keep.
Sure enough, once the nipples had hardened, he started plucking and twisting them savagely, holding them away from her body and then twisting and releasing them, allowing them to bounce back against her chest. It hurt, but not nearly as much as the rest of what he was doing.
He kept up his pace, thrusting deeply into her again and again, for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was, there was no way she would ever know. Finally growing bored, he gave one final thrust and held himself in her, feeling his cold sperm coat the inside of her aching passage.
"Well that wasn't bad, but I was hoping for a bit more enthusiasm on your end," he told her with mock regret in his voice. "I'll just have to punish you for that later. Something for us both to look forward to, hmm, little one?"
With that, he quickly pulled out of her, put on his pants, and walked up the stairs with a spring in his step. Hearing the door close behind him, she tried to relax, her mind once again floating back to a safer place.
She knew that sooner or later he would break her. Her mind would leave her body for that dream world and it wouldn't come back. And when that day came, when she ceased to entertain him with her screams and whimpers of pain, he would kill her.
She just hoped it would happen soon.
The End
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