Angelus sat back with a self-satisfied smile. He'd done it. He'd managed to fool everyone for two years, making them believe he was the soulful counterpart of his vampire self.

It had been harder in Sunnydale. Buffy just wouldn't leave him alone. She was the reason he left. He was afraid he'd snap one night and kill her, thus letting the entire Scooby Gang know that he wasn't the Angel they all knew.

LA had been much easier. He had killed Russell Winters in the beginning, planning on taking over LA's vampire sect; but TPTB had different intentions for Angelus' life. Cordelia and Doyle just wouldn't leave him alone!

Reluctantly, he started Angel Investigations. However, something happened to the vampire along the way. He started enjoying it. He knew that those he went after were evil and needed to be stopped, but the chase still thrilled him.

He assumed it was the soul's influence that actually led him to enjoy the company of Cordelia, Doyle, and now Wesley. They weren't the same as Spike and Dru, back in the old days, but they were family.

Angelus knew he still had his soul. The demon, in a fit of revenge, had made sure that the soul was caged up, as the demon had been for eighty-odd years. Once the bitch Slayer had sent him to hell, the soul retreated, shocked and horrified by what he witnessed. The demon stepped forward, completely enthralled with the fire and brimstone.

Angelus was sure that was what got him out of hell. Someone was pissed that the demon was enjoying every minute of his time there.

Tonight was his night off. Wesley was in England, visiting family. Cordelia had gone back to Sunnydale to see her own parents. And Angelus was out prowling.

Angelus lived for the kill. He didn't chase as much as he liked, because he didn't have much time to be Angelus. He had to kill when he could, and reserve the chasing for the bastards his clients wanted captured.

He was lounging on a black leather chair in a popular vampire club in downtown LA. It was The Bloody Kiss. The inside was exotic, filled with black furniture and tables, with blood red curtains and lights. There were many vampires milling about, enjoying the specialties of the house. The music was loud, and pounding with a beat that vibrated through his sleek body, as if it were a heartbeat.

There were humans in the club, however, not all of them knew of the existence of vampires. They just assumed that the full game face vampires were wearing nothing more than facemasks. Many of those humans wouldn't live long enough to regret that train of thought.

Then he saw her. She was his next conquest. She danced alone, her hands high above her head. She had her back to him, but with the skimpy black leather outfit she was wearing, he knew she had a good body. His mouth watered. There was something about this woman that made his demon stand up and roar for attention. She had short red hair, and the way her hips swayed to the music. . .

Angelus was almost thinking of taking a childe, instead of draining the human. He stood up, glancing down at himself. Black leather pants -- tight, of course. His blood red silk shirt was buttoned up midway, and his leather trench coat finished the outfit. His hair was spiked, and his look was definitely evil.

He sauntered to the woman, wrapping his arm around her waist. He pulled her to him tightly, inhaling her scent. Pure vanilla. Almost reminded him of someone he couldn't immediately place. He closed his eyes and ran his tongue along the back shell of her ear. "Let me show you the world, lover," he whispered.

Her body stiffened at the words. She didn't turn her head, only said softly, "Please, no."

His lips drifted down her neck, kissing the skin softly. He was teasing, trying to convince her that she wanted him. He allowed his game face to slide on, brushing his fangs against her neck. "I can give you so much, lover. . .more than you've ever thought existed," he cooed.

"Angelus," the woman said softly, "don't do this."

Angelus stopped, blinking. He didn't remove his lips from her shoulder. "You know me?"

"You know me," she said, wiggling out of his arm. She turned around.

Angelus stared at her. "Willow Rosenberg?"

She crossed her arms. "Angelus, when did you get free?"

Angelus shook his head. There was no fear off this girl and it was throwing his senses off kilter. Usually they were a little afraid of her. His demon rattled around. He still wanted her. The innocence rolling off the woman was intoxicating him. "Willow. . .you will be mine."

She rose an eyebrow. "Is that so?" She sighed. "When did you loose the soul? Delia said you were fine yesterday."

He smiled a mischievous grin. "You would be interested to know that I haven 't had a soul for quite a while now. Sure, you gave it to me when the Bitch sent me to hell, but the poor little soul couldn't handle being in hell. He retreated and let me take over." His grin grew.

Her eyes widened. "You've been basically soulless for two years?"

"You always were the smart one, lover." He grabbed her and pulled her body flush with his. He wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to look up at him. "And you will be mine now." He slowly ran his tongue up her neck, nibbled on her chin, then began to kiss her blood red lips.

His fangs cut into the soft flesh, sending a jolt of electricity through Willow's body. She moaned into the kiss, opening her mouth to allow him access. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her body against his, grinding her pelvis against his quickly hardening member.

He pulled away suddenly, allowing Willow to gasp for air. He licked her lips, savoring every drop of blood she'd lost. "You taste so sweet, my Willow," he murmured against her lips. "Like vanilla and cinnamon."

"Angelus," she moaned, running her hands along his chest. "I've always wanted this. . .I've always wanted you. Since that night you held me against you in the school halls, since I felt your body against mine. . .I' ve wanted to know. I wanted to feel you press against me, slam me against the wall and pound into me. . ." She had her eyes closed; she was lost. Her mind was swirling with the responsible thoughts, < Don't go with him! He will kill you! >, the Willowlust thoughts, < For goddess' sake. It's Angelus. It's who you've always wanted. If he kills you, he kills you. But if he fucks you first, then you will die happy. >, and the normal Willow thoughts, < Oh, goddess, what am I doing? What would Buffy think? >