Touch of Evil
Part Twenty-One
Author: Amanda Arlequin
E-mail: aca203@is8.nyu.edu
Rating: R/NC-17 overall (some parts are mild)
Summary: This is the story of the cat and mouse game Angelus plays with
Willow, and the romance that follows.
Spoilers: This takes place after Angel loses his soul but before Becoming,
which never happened in my 'verse.
I will keep and discard Buffy lore as I see fit.
Disclaimer: While I have taken the liberty of adding a few characters of
my own creation, all of the original BtVS characters and their world
belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and The WB. The lyrics used in this
part are from the song "My Own Prison" by Creed and belong to them. All
are used
without permission and no copyright infringement is intended.
**Peace is what they tell me
Love am I unholy
Lies are what they tell me
Despise you that control me
The peace is dead in my soul
I have blamed the reason for
my intentions poor
Yes I'm the one who
the only one who
Would carry on this far
Torn, I'm filthy
Born in my own misery
Stole all that you gave me
Control you claim you save me**
**"Torn"- by Creed**
Angelus was worried.
He wasn't scared because Angelus didn't get scared. That sort of weakness
belonged to his soulful counterpart, and as far as he was concerned, it was
best left with him. Once a man, or vampire for that matter, was weakened
then he was an easy target for fate to come and kick your ass back down
with the rest of the pussys who gave in to weakness. Angelus prided
himself in being a pillar of strength, a master of destroying all seeds of
potential weakness before they had a chance to take root; any embers were
extinguished before their flames could span out of control, becoming an
unstoppable blaze that would burn him alive. Kill, main, destroy- whatever
it took to remain on top, he would do it.
Only now he was beginning to worry, and the feeling was incompatible with
his innate cockiness. He wasn't quite sure what to do now that he wasn't
completely in control of a situation. This was unfamiliar territory for
the Master Vampire, and it was making him feel ineffectual for the first
time ever (not including his wimpy soul infested days, but he didn't count
that part of his life as himself anyway).
He glanced at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand for the tenth time
in as many minutes. Cursing under his breath, Angelus resumed his restless
pacing. He'd been on his feet trying to burn off his nervous energy for
the past hour but it wasn't doing any good. Never before had he been so
physically aggravated by his forced captivity during daylight hours, and
Buffy's incessant chattering was literally driving him up the wall. As in
life, it seemed the only time the bitch shut up was when he was in the
midst of slamming himself in to her mouth. That was one thing you couldn't
take away from the Slayer. She had a mouth like a vacuum, almost as if she
had been born to perform that particular act.
Even now, the bitch was trying to get his attention, laying spread eagle
on the bed as she ran her hands over her naked flesh, hoping to tantalize
him enough to forget the fact that the Witch was over an hour late. The
stupid twit didn't seem to realize that he wasn't in the mood. Not for
her- especially when he was stuck indoors without any idea where Willow,
the only woman he did want, was.
Immediately he regretted allowing her to go out by herself during the day.
He had figured it was safe enough. At least during the day there was no
chance of some idiot Fledging mistaking her for an easy target, especially
since he hadn't completely established his dominance in this city yet.
Besides, she had shown no signs of being even close to regaining her
memories. He figured that if the news of Angel's death hadn't been enough
to disrupt her repression then he was safe from losing his new, compliant
Willow, for the time being anyway. Plus, not allowing her to go anywhere
without his company when he was supposed to be playing the good boyfriend
didn't seem like the greatest idea. Now he wished he'd been more strict in
keeping her close to him at all times. Before today it hadn't been a
problem. Willow had never been more than a minute late in returning home.
Now she was an hour and fifteen minutes late and he was stuck here for
another half-hour before sundown. Until then he would be unable to do
anything but sit here and come up with a million different scenarios for
her absence.
The three most likely explanations he'd come up with were all equally
disturbing, though none were unfixable. First, Willow could have been
kidnapped by some unwitting serial killer/rapist who had no clue as to just
whose property he was messing with. If that was the case then the
unsuspecting bastard was in for quite a surprise. Even if he hadn't
touched Willow, he wouldn't live to see another sunrise. Angelus was
already reveling in the pleasure he'd receive from making the bone
splinter's fly as he beat the life out of the guy.
The second possibility was that one of those hapless friends of hers from
Sunnydale had somehow tracked them down and made off with his woman while
she was safely away from him. If it was anyone then he figured it was that
stuttering fool of a Watcher or that hormonal boy who was too dumb to
recognize that he was in love with her. He should have killed those two
bumbling idiots when he had the chance, but if it turned out they were the
ones interfering with his plans then he'd track them down and rectify his
previous slight.
The third and least frightening possibility (Oh God, did he just think
that. Fuck, if he was beginning to get frightened over this then he was
really in trouble), was that somehow, something had triggered Willow's
memory while she was out and she now knew the truth. If that was the case
then she had probably headed out of LA as soon as she'd remembered
everything. If her memories had returned then he'd be back where he'd
started, but that scenario was the most preferable. After all, he loved a
challenge. It was just too bad he hadn't fucked her before her escape.
Man, he would have loved to watch her eat herself up with guilt at having
been deflowered by the man she hated most in the world.
There was a fourth possibility- one that he didn't even want to consider,
perhaps because the more the thought tugged at the back of his mind, the
more likely it seemed to be the correct explanation. His pride couldn't
handle believing it. If it was true then it meant the Witch had fooled him
and he didn't like to consider the possibility that anyone had pulled one
over on Angelus. He was the cunning one, the one who tricked people in to
believing that whatever face he showed them was his true face. If the
Witch had really pulled off such a deception then he had grossly
underestimated her. Of course, he'd be too busy dolling out some
punishment to express any admiration over her near impossible accomplishment.
Without realizing it, Angelus' pacing was now being accompanied by a
growling that emanated from deep within his throat, aural evidence of his
growing fury. An hour and thirty minutes late and 15 minutes before he
could safely venture outside. If took every ounce of his survival instinct
not to tear down the door right that second and hunt down his prey.
The closer it got to sundown, the more positive Angelus was his red-haired
temptress had been faking the entire time, just waiting for her opportunity
to escape. Each step he took as he paced acted as an external barometer
for the murderous rage that was gaining strength within him, burning his
insides with the heat of a full blown fire. His mind became flooded with
pictures of the lessons he would have to teach her. He'd taken it easy on
her in the past. He'd allowed her to be insolent, but he'd show her who
was Master. So far she'd been protected from the full-blown rage the demon
nursed inside him when things didn't go his way. Not even when he'd first
returned and been battling with Buffy had he let his demon slip back into
the old patterns of utter hatred and destruction it had followed in the
past. She might have read about it in those stupid Watcher's Diaries, but
she had no idea just how very bad it could be. Now she'd witness it- live,
uncensored, and completely up close and personal. She'd learn the hard but
oh so fun way. He'd have her begging with her very soul for mercy.
Weakness. He could feel it rotting away his strength like a disease,
infecting him with the need and desire he felt for her. She had made him
weak, but he wasn't going to allow it to continue. If he had to cut
himself open to remove her from his system he'd do it. Or maybe he'd just
cut into her. Either way she was going to pay. Tonight. He would become
her weakness, not the other way around, and then things would be as they
should again. The demon would be sated.
One minute left. Impatient, Angelus stalked towards the door, ready to
fling it open and begin the hunt. He never made it halfway there.
Pain exploded behind his eyeballs. Searingly hot, blinding the vampire as
he fell to his knees. His vision disappeared in a burst of white light
that was inescapable in its brilliance. The pain rushed through his body,
travelling the path of veins and musculature with deliberate purpose,
feeding into the core of his heart before imploding. Every crevice of his
body felt as if it was being torn from the inside out, doubling him over as
he lost control of all motor functions. Buffy screamed as her sire began
to jerk and twitch uncontrollably, as if a live wire had been placed in
direct correspondence with the bundle of nerves in his lower spine. The
picture he made was incomparable to the actual raw agony he was in.
Nothing earthly could ever be the cause of what he was undergoing.
The demon screamed in denial, recognizing with a dreaded familiarity the
pain it had experienced only once before. If it could have fought it would
have, but there was no fighting this. Before long every rational thought
had been emptied from his head. All he could do was feel, and soon enough
he stopped doing even that. A power forged from the heavens itself
traveled through Angelus' body with immeasurable speed and devastating
effects. Golden lightening flashed within the unfathomable depths of his
eyes and with a quickness that matched how it had begun, it was over. An
eternity that added up to only a minute of human time.
As his body lay prone on the floor with a stillness reserved only for the
truly dead, Buffy rushed to his side. One look at her sire's face,
transformed by an all too human guilt and suffering, told her all she
needed to know. Crying out her denial, Buffy turned and ran, unable to
deal with the impossible that had suddenly become reality. She left Angel
alone, crying out with his very soul as his mind, body, heart and soul
became one again.
In the wake of the memories, he cried out for the one woman who could share
the burden of his pain and lead him down the path of recovery. "Willow!
God no! No, please no. Willoooooooooooooooooooooooooooow."
On to
Part Twenty-Two
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