obsession is... [writings of claudia6913]

twilight20 Ficlet Prompt Table

2008-10-07T15:29:13Z

001.	Laughter.	002.	Fear.	003.	Thrill.	004.	Secret.	005.	Joy.
006.	Tears.	007.	Nostalgia.	008.	Pain.	009.	Hope.	010.	Risk.
011.	Temptation.	012.	Love.	013.	Despair.	014.	Warmth.	015.	Jealousy.
016.	Silence.	017.	Forbidden.	018.	Need.	019.	Rage.	020.	Death.

Let's see how this goes, shall we?

A Vacation to Remember - A/W - PG-13 - Chapter 11

2008-09-07T20:51:02Z

Title: A Vacation to Remember
Author: claudia6913
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: W/A
Summary: Willow is in desperate need of a vacation and Angel is more then willing to help out.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Joss and Co. do. Lucky bastards.
Distribution: NHA, SoG, redsoulmates, angelusmate, and anyone else I post to. All others just ask. All of my work is archived on my site. http://www.angelfire.com/vamp/claudia6913
Warnings: Buffy and Kate fans, you may not want to read. I do not portray these characters nicely.
Author’s Notes: I’m a little slow on this fic, I know, I’m sorry.
Feedback: yes please! claudia6913@yahoo.com

Chapter 11

Xander had left shortly after Willow agreed to go along with the prophecy and whatever her part in it was. Immediately, Xander had protested, telling Willow again that she didn’t have to do it. Angel, silent and listening, changed his views on the boy that he had once grown to hate. He could see that Xander cared about Willow fiercely, and was loyal to her … above all else, including Buffy. Angel respected that, and when he finally showed Xander out, Angel shook his hand, a silent thank you.

“Come on,” Angel said, shutting the door behind Xander and walking back to Willow who was seated on the couch. She covered her mouth as she yawned.

“Do you still love me? Even though I’m doing this?” Willow asked as they made their way upstairs to her bedroom.

Stopping, Angel turned her around and pulled her into a hug, laying a kiss atop her head. “How can you ask that? Of course I love you. I loved you before this, I love you because of it, and I’ll love you no matter what. This … prophecy doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Accepting that answer, Willow smiled up at him before going on tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the lips. Together, hand in hand, they walked into her room. She excused herself after grabbing a large shirt and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Taking the opportunity, Angel looked around Willow’s room. He’d been here before, once, when he’d asked her for help to look up information on Ford, an old friend of Buffy’s. She had been shy and nervous. At the time he hadn’t noticed how beautiful she was, having been so wrapped up in Buffy. Now, however, he hated himself that he hadn’t seen. He had used her for her knowledge. Sure, he considered her a friend. Willow had, after all, given him back his soul, but it hadn’t been until after he’d left Sunnydale that Angel had realized just how special Willow was.

Better late than never, he thought.

Hearing Willow coming back to her room, Angel stood. He had already decided earlier, during their talk with Xander, that he would check out this prophecy for himself, using what contacts he still had here. He also needed to call Doyle back in L.A. and make sure everything was all right.

Finally back in her room, Willow went and laid down in her bed. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it and her room. It wasn’t as if she didn’t like living with Angel in his apartment, but it was his. It wasn’t even theirs, and Willow wasn’t sure if it ever would be.

“I’ve some things to take care of,” Angel said, sitting on the bed next to her. Already he could hear her breathing slow with the oncoming of sleep. “Will you be alright by yourself for a few hours?”

“MmmHmm,” Willow mumbled, leaning into the caress of Angel’s hand.

Getting up slowly, Angel leaned down to place a kiss on Willow’s forehead and whispered his love into her ear before leaving. By the time he shut her bedroom door, she was fast asleep.

**********

The phone call to Doyle was longer than expected, and Angel was grateful that he had chosen to make the call from his apartment instead of Willow’s house. An … unexpected development occurred during his absence from L.A., one which, had he been there, he would have put an immediate stop to. It seemed that Cordelia’s apartment had become infested with insects and she decided, completely on her own, that she would stay at Angel’s apartment under the office. That fact wouldn’t have been so bad in and of itself. It was Doyle’s admission that she was … redecorating Angel’s apartment that had him furiously yelling at Doyle to find Cordelia an apartment as quickly as possible, or she would be out of a job.

Both men knew the threat was empty, but Doyle promised to relay the message in Angel’s exact words to their firecracker of a secretary.

Other than Cordelia’s little experiments with Angel’s home décor, all was quiet in L.A. Something Angel was thankful for. There was more than enough going on in Sunnydale, and he didn’t want to leave Willow alone.

Business taken care of, Angel got right down to the point about the prophecy that spoke of Willow. He told Doyle everything, from the way Giles had acted as though Willow should be able to read it to the way Xander had come to them and given them all he had known. The Irish half-demon promised he would call his contacts as soon as he hung up the phone.

“I’ll call you in a day,” Angel said. “Please, have something.”

Leaving his apartment, Angel made his way to Willy’s bar. It was just as he’d remembered, seedy and run down. The proprietor, Willy himself, was surprised, if not down right displeased, to see him.

“I-I thought you left town, packed it up for L.A.,” Willy said, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“I did. And now I’m back.” Angel sat at the dirty bar, leaning on his elbows as he surveyed the human. “I’m going to ask you a few questions, and it would be better all around if you gave me the answers.”

“Always, Angelus-“

“Angel,” he growled, cutting Willy off.

“Yeah, yeah, Angel. Whatever you want, you know that.” His actions belittled his words, his hands moving nervously around the bar. “Got some good O negitive for you if you want.”

“Just answers, Willy. No blood … unless it’s yours.” That made the man blanch. “The Slayer’s friend, the witch, what do you know?”

“Little girl? Red hair?” Angel nodded. “She’s smart, took off a while ago.”

“You’re not telling me what I want to hear, Willy,” Angel said, his voice getting a dangerous edge to it.

“I don’t know anything,” Willy said, shrugging. “Not much to know, everyone’s headin’ out.”

“Why?”

“How should I know? Look, are ya gonna buy somethin’?”

Shaking his head, Angel got up and left. He should have known Willy would be no help, but he had to try. For Willow, he had to try.

Hours later, Angel walked back towards Willow’s house forlorn and angry. Every other contact he knew was either gone, or packing up. None of the ones on their way out knew what specifically was going on, they just knew it would be big and they didn’t want to be around when it came.

**********

Angel had not gathered any information to help he or Willow in this situation, and the only people that knew anything would much rather not have him there.

It was time to see what his ex was up to.

Carefully, Angel picked his way through Buffy’s yard, noticing the light on in her bedroom window. He could see her shadow through the draperies, pacing, holding something. Wanting a closer look, he quickly made his way up to the first story roof just below her window and hid in the shadows.

“No, we’ve already been over this.” Buffy’s voice drifted through the crack in the window. He could see now that she was talking to someone on the phone.

“If I knew that …,” she said heatedly, but stopped and drew a quick breath. “Look. Once this is over, they’ll both go back to L.A. and leave us the hell alone.”

She was talking about Willow and he, Angel realized. He listened closer; amazed she had not felt his presence yet. That was always her downfall.

“She’s not your friend anymore!” Buffy yelled. “She stopped being our friend when she moved in with Angel. She betrayed us, and she’ll do it again. We just have to make sure Willow goes through with this, and if it means getting Angel out of the way, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Hands turned into fists as Angel heard that last part. He wanted to leave, but needed to know more and was curious as to who she was talking to.

In his anger, he didn’t see that Buffy had stopped her pacing and turned to the window.

“I’ve got to go,” Buffy said distractedly and hung up the phone, whipping the window open as soon as the phone was out of her hand.

Turning - A/W - R - Chapter 6 re-write

2008-09-07T20:45:34Z

Title: Turning
Author: claudia6913
Rating: R
Summary: Willow is trying to deal with her recent trek to the dark side of magic and failing miserably.
Pairings: Willow/Angel
Disclaimer: Willow is owned by Joss, ME, and all them over there.
Distribution: NHA, writtenbyfates, anyone else just e-mail me.
A/N: This is a re-written version of the original Turning Series which, at one time, was told through Willow and Angel’s POV.

Chapter 6

Together, their steps were silent and evenly matched. The night air whipped across them as they passed a narrow alley way. Willow could smell the death down there, the stench of the diseased and dying. She wanted to ask why Angel did not help those they had just passed, why he did not lend a hand to everyone, but could not find the words to start the conversation. Surely she shouldn’t be thinking about them, not like that at least. She should have been more intrigued with the young couple walking towards them. However, they were smiling, happy, and turned away from her and Angel, probably sensing the turmoil and tension between them, the lack of smiles on their faces, and the space stringently kept between them.

“So,” Willow said tentatively, feeling the need to fill the silence with something other than the bustle of the world around them. “What’s new with you?”

Angel turns his head, looking at her with a blank face. He was not sure why she would ask that, and was even more surprised she hadn’t tried to go after the couple that had passed them. Her words, odd though they had been, were starting to make Angel wonder. Was there something wrong with how he had made Willow?

“We don’t have to do the whole small talk, if you don’t want to,” he said finally, looking back out at the night. Truthfully, it was that he didn’t want the small talk. Or talk period. Silence suited him, but he knew better than to expect that from Willow … in any incarnation.

“I wasn’t …,” Willow started to say, but fell silent because he was right and there really was no point in arguing. She wondered, what had been the point of her question? Had she expected the old friendship? Had they ever had a friendship? She didn’t know, but had thought so. Too much had changed though, in the recent days, and even since he had left Sunnydale, for her to expect much from him in the form of friend-like behavior. She had only wanted to ease some of the tension surrounding them. Without thinking about it Willow knew, could almost sense that he was upset, but not at her... at himself. The emotion was nearly choking her, the more she focused on it, sliding thick down her throat as she swallowed reflexively.

“I was wondering,” Willow tried again. “How long has it been since, well, since you found me?” Back in Sunnydale, before things had gone so horridly wrong for her, Willow had often found herself nose-deep in the pages of one of Giles’ many books. It hadn’t mattered to her what they were about, demons, Slayers, vampires, or magic, it had all intrigued her. However, somewhere along the way she had encompassed a broad knowledge for the other side of life most humans knew nothing of. Her question was born from that knowledge and the fear that she was somehow different than what she had thought she had been. She had, after all, met a vampiric version of herself, and she was nothing like it had been, hence her curiosity.

“Yesterday,” Angel said, sorrow evident in his voice. She was making him think about things he would much prefer to avoid, but he found he could not deny her any answers she sought. After all, she had not been the one to choose this lifestyle, but rather, he had forced it upon her in a time of great weakness.

“That was quick,” Willow said, thinking out loud. The books she had read had never been terrible specific about the time frame it took to turn someone. The Watcher’s Council had seemed to agree upon a time of three days, while other books tended to be vague, saying that it depended on the maker and the potency of the blood used, and of the victim, whether they were to be a protégé or simply a minion, someone to serve only.

Angel gave a grunt, but said nothing.

“Look, Angel, we really need to talk, but I don’t know what to say to you,” Willow said finally after a few more minutes of silence. She was becoming exasperated with his stand-off-ish nature. Silence would solve nothing and she refused to let him dig a hole of misery on her account.

Brown eyes sought her out for a moment before Angel stopped and sighed, turning to her. He nodded, but nothing more. Willow rolled her eyes and looked around them for a moment. Another couple was walking towards them, hand in hand. It must be the night for them, she thought. The young woman laughed as the man whispered in her ear. They looked happy, peaceful, enjoying the other’s presence. Willow smiled and sighed, catching the couples scent as she did so. She could smell the sex that still lingered on them, the heavy floral perfume of the woman and the musky cologne of the man. Under all of that was the unmistakable scent of life, of blood. It was intoxicating and Willow swayed as she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the scents linger on the back of her tongue so that she could taste them.

The pretty young blonde woman turned her soft blue eyes towards Willow and her smile falters for a moment. Willow wonders if the woman can sense there is something off about her and Angel. It was possible. Many people had that sort of ‘other sense’ that let their body warn them, though they could never put the finger on just what had caused that feeling to creep up their spine. The man, however, was too enamored with the woman and seemed oblivious to the danger they were headed towards.

“Angel?” Willow asked, turning towards him, her face scrunched in confusion. She felt something stir inside of her and a craving she had never felt before made itself known in the presence of the humans. Without realizing what she was doing, her eyes turned back to the woman and man, her eyes locking on their throats, on the trobbing piece of meat as they walked closer. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and she imagined she could taste the blood yet to be spilled. Fear is now rolling off both the humans and it spices the air. Without warning, Willow’s features shifted, and the two humans who, only moments ago had been blissfully happy, were trapped to the spot, drowning in fear.

Willow took a step forward before her movement was halted as she was flung against a wall, Angel’s face blocking her view of the humans.

“Willow, no,” he said, his voice soft, but she heard the command behind the words and feels her body instantly react. Her face slips back to human as she hears the hurried footsteps of the couple running the opposite direction.

“I – I don’t know what,” Willow tried to say, panting involuntarily as she tried to get her body and emotions under control. When she had suggested the walk, she had had no intentions of hunting, and honestly had not even thought humans would be out so late. Though, Sunnydale should have taught her otherwise. She hadn’t been thinking. But the scent had caught her, pulled the demon out of its seeming slumber. The spicy fear, mixed with the heady scent of their love for each other. It had been intoxicating.

“Home. Now,” Angel said gruffly, pushing her ahead of him. He was angry. A little at Willow, because he thought she had tricked him into coming out into the night for just a ‘walk’, but he was also angry at himself for not realizing, for not anticipating better. She was newly turned, and he should have known better.

Realizing he was about to make the same mistake twice, he took hold of her upper arm and practically escorted her back to the hotel, careful to stay well away from any other wandering humans.

Silently and obediently, Willow let herself be led, not wanting to upset him further. His displeasure was almost a physical thing and it pained her to feel him to angry with her. It hadn’t been her fault, not entirely; she just hadn’t anticipated her reaction.

Something was so very wrong with her.

With stiff motions, Angel opens the door and pushes Willow into the lobby, watching as she sulks off to the circular couch in the middle of the room and flops down. He can’t tell if she is upset at him or herself.

“You cannot hunt humans,” Angel says, pacing in front of her. “Not while I’m around. I won’t stand for it.” She doesn’t look up at him and it takes all he has not to make her.

“I’m sorry, Sire,” she says softly, her toe kicking at the floor, pointedly avoiding looking at him. It was bad enough that she had lost control, now she felt the pang of upsetting him on top of the hunger.

Willow feels the cushion next to her sink as Angel takes a seat next to her. His breath comes out in an audible sigh as he says, “No, I’m sorry Willow. I … should have known better. You’re young, unskilled. I knew better than to take you out tonight. I just … I just thought …” His voice trails off, tears heavy and salty on the air.

“You just thought I was the old Willow,” she says, finishing his sentence for him. He nods.

There is nothing else to say between them, they both know that words are useless at this point, their feelings are evident.

After a few long moments, Willow’s hand moves to her stomach and she turns to look at Angel, silently willing him to look at her, to know what she needs so that she won’t have to tell him. She knows that if she were to speak what her body is telling her, it would only upset him further, and she does not want to do that, no matter how frustrating it is for him to be so closed off to her.

Finally, she cannot wait for him to get a clue any longer and speaks up. “Uh, Angel,” Willow says softly. He turns to her and sees the pain evident in her eyes, understanding dawning on him at long last.

“Oh,” he says, standing up, suddenly looking nervous. “I, uh, have some pigs blood in the refrigerator in my room. Would you want too…,” he says trailing off. Willow nods and follows him up to his room.

“Thank you,” she says, walking into the room behind him. “I didn’t know how to ask.”

“It’s okay. I haven’t been doing a good job so far. This is hard for me.”

“I know. I feel it.”

“How?” Angel asks, clearly baffled.

“The bond,” she says simply.

The blank look on his face nearly makes Willow laugh, but she holds back. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve needed … I’ve shut the others off.” He looks away quickly, and Willow feels a pang of sympathy for him. She knows how it feels to be cut off from everything and everyone, from what was once her family – even before her … transformation.

While Angel busies himself with preparing the blood for her, Willow takes a moment to look over his room, remembering everything that has happened in the last five or six hours. She shakes her head, thinking that it had been much longer than that. Walking over to the little kitchenette, she watches as Angel pulls out two large mugs and two bags of blood. After heating them up in the microwave, he hands one to Willow and they sit down in the little sitting area in his room, nice and cozy.

Willow sips at the blood, tasting it for the first time, and makes a face of disgust. Her first taste of blood had been Angel’s and what she held in her hands was akin to mud.

“Sorry, I know it’s not exactly good. But, it’s blood,” Angel says, taking the mug from her after she finishes and rinses it off in the little sink.

“No, it’s okay, Angel, I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, awkward once more.

Silence falls quickly and heavy upon them, oppressing. Willow fidgets in her chair, waiting for it to end, realizing finally that it will not unless she ends it.

“So,” she says, her voice nearly echoing, “we have a lot to talk about. Where do you want to start?”

Angel sighs, clearly unhappy with this development. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I’ll start, and you can ask questions along the way.”

“Alright.”

“Right, so, where to begin,” Willow says, thinking aloud. Granted, this wasn’t the kind of talking she’d had in mind, but it was better than just sitting there staring at the cracked wall paper and hoping for Angel to say something.

“After I resurrected Buffy, I kinda went overboard on my magic. I started doing spells for everything. Tara got concerned. She said I should stop, and I tried, but I couldn’t. I was addicted…”

The story went on, clinical, because if Willow stopped and tried to analyze everything, she would go mad. Angel never interrupted, never asked a question, and never looked at her. Willow couldn’t tell if he is actually paying attention to her or if he is soaking it all in. She thinks she should be thankful, unsure if she could have stopped the story. It pours out of her, all the pain, the hurt, and the anger.

“After Tara died, I went crazy. I got deep into black magic. I killed the guy who shot her. I killed my magic supplier, and I almost killed Dawn. I even tried to end the world.” A small hiccup, something between a sob and a laugh escapes her. “Xander was able to stop me. I … I stopped practicing after that. Cold turkey. Everyone still thought I was going to go off the deep end one day. I couldn’t take anymore of their looks or whispered remarks behind my back, so I ran away. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone. Days, weeks, months. It’s all a blur to me. Then, I end up here in LA, with a gash on my wrist. I didn’t want to die Angel. I thought I did, but I didn’t.”

The silence comes again, but this time Willow doesn’t notice for a long moment, her own mind running through the events that had brought her to this exact moment in time and how, if she’d had it to do any different, she isn’t sure what she would have changed.

Angel sits there, silent and unmoving, not showing any emotion.

“Angel?”

“I didn’t save you,” he says finally. “I killed you just as much as that cut would have done, only I did one worse. I made you a vampire. Damned.” He stands up suddenly and walks over to a window, looking out into the dark night and bright lights of the city. “I’m sorry Willow. I’m sorry for everything you have had to endure. I’m sorry I didn’t save you in time. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed someone the most. I’m just … sorry.”

Standing up, Willow walks over to him and kneels at his feet, reaching around his legs and rubs her cheek against his thigh. They have both been through so much, and neither fully grasps what the other has had to deal with. But, in time, it is possible they will understand. Right now, however, they need the comfort.

Turning - A/W - R - Chapter 5 re-write

2008-09-07T20:44:19Z

Title: Turning
Author: claudia6913
Rating: R
Summary: Willow is trying to deal with her recent trek to the dark side of magic and failing miserably.
Pairings: Willow/Angel
Disclaimer: Willow is owned by Joss, ME, and all them over there.
Distribution: NHA, writtenbyfates, anyone else just e-mail me.
A/N: This is a re-written version of the original Turning Series which, at one time, was told through Willow and Angel’s POV.

Chapter 5

The idea of sitting there, alone except for the fact that Angel is sitting there with her, never conversing with each other, is starting to upset Willow. Already she has gone through her own memories, hoping that nothing has been lost or forgotten in her death. She feels that she cannot be her if she is without her memories, the things that separate her from other people. Life experiences. While she finds that she can no longer associate the same emotions she had felt then with the memories now, the fact that she remembers feeling a certain way during a certain time helps to reassure her that she has not lost any part of her during her change. Her life with Tara, as well as her lover’s death are still with her, as is the two people she had killed.

Willow had thought that in remembering the deaths of both Rack and Warren, her demon would latch onto that part of her dark past and manipulate her feelings now – but nothing happens. Instead of rejoicing in the deaths, she feels nothing. No regret, certainly, but no joy or even a bit of keen interest to relive it. This, for some reason, deeply concerns her and makes her worry about her psyche.

“Angel,” Willow says, tentatively breaking through the thick air that hangs heavy between them. He looks up, not into her eyes, but just over her shoulder. She only takes a slight offense to it, but pushes on, worried about her own well-being. “I think I’m broken.”

Her wording, while wrong, still expresses what she is trying to tell him, but Angel breaks down, his eyes filling with tears again as he looks away. Willow wonders how many tears he can have left for her.

It is unsettling to Willow to think that Angel is so affected by her death when he had not spent the time to know her in her life. However, a part of her that connects her to him feels she should some how ease his suffering, apologize for her bumbled wording.

Still unsure of her place in his world, Willow moves closer to him and rests a hand on his shoulder. He does not move, nor does he push her away. In her mind that is progress and she sits herself on the arm of the chair he has made his new home.

Being this close to him sparks her innate nature, making her want to please him, or at the very least, stem the flow of tears from his eyes. Gently, she pulls him closer to her, sighing softly when he complies. Running her hand through his hair, she coos to him softly, hoping her whispered apologies will break through the fog of his self-loathing.

“Shh, it’s ok Angel. I’m sorry I said that. It came out wrong,” she says gently, just loud enough for the two of them to hear.

Pain and repulsion war with caring and concern deep inside Angel at her touch. While her soft words and caresses draw him in, he feels he does not deserve such things. Pushing her away right now would be the best thing, for them both, but he doesn’t, sub-consciously needing that touch and reassurance, and he greedily takes whatever she is offering at this point - anything to ease his internal torment.

“Angel, please talk to me,” Willow says after a few moments, testing the waters between them. “Say something. Anything. I don’t know how to help you.”

“I’m sorry, Willow,” Angel says, unable to say anything else. He leans into her more; hoping that somehow her heat will return to her and her heart will beat again if he wills it so.

“Why?” she asks. The first apology was understandable to her, even the second one, but multitudes of them are not necessary. She hopes by forcing him to state what he is keeping for himself that he will then let go of this need to express his regrets. She feels him move against her and pulls away only enough to look at him, her hands never leaving his shoulder.

Angel swallows hard, looking deeply into her, and then speaks in a rush. “For what I’ve done to you. I took your life away and gave you something you didn’t ask for. I – I didn’t save you.”

This is … maybe not what she had expected to hear, but close enough, and enough like Angel that she lets a small, sympathetic smile cross her face. She wonders if there is a way she can speak to him, make him understand that she is not mad, or upset by this turn of events. However, she knows that he would not see it as her speaking, but as a demon, a vampire, but she has to try, if not for him, then for herself at least.

“Angel,” Willow says softly, “look at me.” She waits while he turns his eyes upon her. “I was dying. I knew that when I saw you standing over me, even though I didn’t know it was you, I remember thinking it was an angel. And I was right.” He looks ready to protest, but Willow stems his words with a single finger on his lips, silently asking him to let her finish. “If you had let me die up there … Angel, I would have gone to Hell.”

Vehemently, Angel shakes his head. “Never,” he chokes out.

“Yes, I would have, and for good reason. I’ve killed.” She pauses, letting that sink in, letting those words reverberate in the small space between them. “I’ve killed two human beings, and I would have gone to Hell for those murders.”

It does not surprise Willow that Angel is now looking as if he no longer knows the woman over which he is crying. She had imagined that she had been Buffy’s skeleton in the closet, so to speak, combined with the fact that it was a rare occasion anyone in Sunnydale spoke of Angel also led her to believe that he would know nothing.

“But …,” Angel says, trailing off, baffled by what he has just been told.

A laugh, inappropriate and startling, escapes Willow and she tamps down on it immediately upon seeing the pain on Angel’s face. Death, she knows intellectually, should not be laughed at, but she could not help herself. Angel’s naiveté is quite amusing to her.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” Willow says, hoping to appease him in any way possible. There is a certain decorum she must adhere to, she knows, when dealing with Angel. “But, it is a long story.” Even without speaking, she can tell that Angel is silently asking her for more details, but this much has already made her tired of talking. There would always be more to say, and because of her current state, she literally has all the time in the world to say it.

“I’ll tell you, in time, but right now, I need a shower, some clean clothes, and some fresh air,” Willow says standing up. She is pleased to see that the tears are no longer falling from his eyes. “Do you mind?”

He stands as well, saying, “I – no, go ahead.” She is already walking away from him, looking around the room. He can see in the way she holds herself that she is not the same. It is hard for him to reconcile his knowledge of Willow with this new knowledge that she has killed, not once, but twice, as a human.

“Do you have any clothes I can borrow?” Willow asks, breaking through his own thoughts. Blindly, Angel points to an armoire on the far wall. He is still shocked, she can tell, his eyes are glazed and he is not even paying attention to anything around him.

Walking over to the drawers, she sifts through the few things in there, pulling out something simple and easy – a black t-shirt and a pair of matching sweat pats.

“Bathroom?” she asks. He points to a door on the other side of the room, and she walks to it, glancing over her shoulder before closing the door behind her.

Leaning against the door, Willow presses her forehead to the cooler wood, taking deep, now unneeded breaths. She can feel Angel’s emotions wash across her in harsh waves, big enough to drown in. He is unintentionally flooding her with his worry and grief, making her choke on it. Closing her eyes, Willow whispers a small protection spell she had learned while in England with Giles. It would not stop the flow, for Willow did not want it to stop necessarily, but it would stem the flow to a more manageable level.

As Willow speaks the last word, ending the small incantation, she can almost immediately feel the weight being lifted from her chest.

Feeling clearer, she walks to the tub and turns on the water, her body craving warmth. Inside, she realizes she can no longer feel the heat that had once been there. It is not a freezing cold that seeps through, but something just chilly enough to feel, just edgy enough to make her aware of it.

Flipping it to the shower, she strips and climbs in, hissing as the first spray hits her, like fire on ice, almost sizzling her skin. But, as it sinks in, she lets out a sigh on contentment. It is as if she could stand under that spray for hours and be content, soaking up the warmth from the water. However, she knows she cannot do that and begins to wash herself.

Willow notices that there is no blood on her arm from the cut that had nearly killed her. There is also no scar, not even a blemish to prove that that part of her life, that snippet of her lowest moment had even happened. She is unsure if she is happy about this or not. Instead of dwelling on it, she simply shrugs it off and finishes her shower.

Stepping out of the tub Willow grabs her towel and begins drying her hair. Turning towards the sink, she finds the mirror hanging above it. Yet, nothing looks back at her. No reflection just a blank white wall staring back at her. It is somewhat disturbing to her since she had not even thought about not having a reflection. Though somewhere on the wall, she sees a shadow, where she should be.

Not wanting to linger in the room that reminded her so much of what she could no longer be, Willow quickly dressed and left the bathroom.

Oddly, Willow wasn't surprised to see that Angel had not moved from his position on the chair next to the bed. Now, Willow was at a loss as to what to do or say, therefore, she decided to test a few of her new abilities. Just for fun. She let her eyes roam over the room. Even in her human visage she could see everything clearly, the bed with a navy blue satin sheets, the dresser with just a few things on it next to the bed, weapons on the wall. She should've known those would be there. There was another small sitting area off to the side of the bathroom, a bookcase, filled to bursting, sat to the side of one of the chairs. She noticed that the furniture was tasteful, if not a bit brooding in appearance. However, that was exactly what she would expect to find in the room occupied by a 256 year-old vampire with a soul working his way to redemption.

The entire hotel seemed to be sleeping. As if nothing other than them were occupying it - only the dead. However, underlying the silence was a soft something, almost like a drum. Cocking her head to the side, Willow listened more closely. At first, she could not distinguish what that soft noise was. However, suddenly, it came to her. She knew without knowing that it was a heartbeat.

“Angel,” she asked softly. “Who else is here?”

Those dark, deep, brown eyes turned in fear to her. He had forgotten that there were others in the hotel besides them. Slowly he stood, carefully walking towards Willow as if she were dangerous, thinking she would crave their blood.

“I have,” he pauses wondering if he should tell her not, “some friends staying here. Cordelia.”

Willow smiles, remembering her old high school nemesis. With her smile Angel became even more cautious.

“Please, Angel,” Willow said softly. “Don't look at me like that. I'm not going to eat her.” A soft chuckle escaped her lips. And even that caused him grief. While he may be her Sire, she felt that she would be the one taking care of him and not the other way around.

“OK,” Angel said backing down just a little, but his eyes remained ever on her. They were only standing a few foot feet apart from each other. His eyes slowly looked her up and down. Perhaps taking size, admiring his work? She didn’t know.

Something inside of Willow pushed her foreword, small inches at a time, creeping her way closer and closer to Angel. Her hand reached out as if on its own volition and touched him along his jaw line and down his neck to where his pulse point would be had he had one. Angel’s eyes drifted closed her touch. And as she brought her hand away his eyes snapped open to stare at her, wondering both why she stopped and why she began.

Willow stepped away; unsure of what to do now, but knowing she couldn't just stay there, sitting across from him, not talking. Looking into his eyes she asks, “Can I get some fresh air?”

He looked perplexed for a moment, unsure if she was asking for just that, or perhaps more. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it.

“Just ask,” she said, trying to alleviate his unease.

With eyes averted, Angel says, “Why is it you want to go outside? Are you... hungry?”

“No,” Willow said, another smile gracing her face, “Sire. I'm not hungry. I don't want go out to hunt, I want go out and stretch my legs get some fresh air.”

“Oh,” he said, just a little embarrassed. “Okay... well. We can go then.” He paused; looking up at her. “You do want me to go, right?”

“Yes, Angel. I want you to come along. Maybe... Maybe we can talk.”

He nods and begins to walk out of the room, Willow following close behind.

Turning - A/W - R - Chapter 4 re-write

2008-09-07T20:43:11Z

Turning - W/A - R - Chapter 3 re-write

2008-09-07T20:42:13Z

Nearly done. I promise!!! *begs forgiveness*

Title: Turning
Author: claudia6913
Rating: R
Summary: Willow is trying to deal with her recent trek to the dark side of magic and failing miserably.
Pairings: Willow/Angel
Disclaimer: Willow is owned by Joss, ME, and all them over there.
Distribution: NHA, writtenbyfates, anyone else just e-mail me.
A/N: This is a re-written version of the original Turning Series which, at one time, was told through Willow and Angel’s POV.

Chapter 3

An invisible pressure presses against Willow's chest as she tries in vain to draw in a breath. Her chest moves in the motion associated with breathing, but she cannot feel the air move through her body as it ought to be. Panic-stricken, she sits bolt upright, expecting to see the horizon with the city dappled out before her, but instead there are only dim lights and walls. Instead of lying on a steel beam as she remembered, she is now comfortable in a bed.

The memories of earlier events are not adding up in her head. Willow's eyes quickly scan her surroundings, taking in everything, and recognizing nothing. Remembering another piece of what should be but isn't, she looks down at her wrist, surprised to find it healed over. That, she knows, should not be ... unless she had been out of it for a long time. Or, she is no longer with it ...

Everything is different. She is not where she knew herself to be, and her body ... there is something wrong with her body. A pain, dull but there, is twisting her stomach into knots as she pushes her feet to the cool floor.

A prickling, that sensation she recognizes from her previous life in Sunnydale, at the back of her neck tells her that she was not alone in the room. Experience tells Willow not to move too quickly or let on to the thing in the room with her that she knows it is there. Carefully, she takes stock of everything, her eyes moving rapidly to find something - anything - that can be used as a weapon if such is needed.

Before Willow can look around to the thing behind her, a scent on the air catches her attention. Salt mixed with a sort of musk that she cannot describe but finds herself drawn to it all the same. This confuses her and further makes her curious and frightened as to what has happened.

Needing answers, unable to wait for the being to make their way to her, Willow stands slowly, and turns to face them.

Nothing could have prepared her for what her eyes fall upon - Angel. He is the same as she remembers and wonders now if something else has not gone wrong. Before she passed out on the high beam above the city, she could swear she had seen him there, leaning over her with an unreadable expression on his face. But now, as she looks on him, he seems as though he is grieving.

"Angel," Willow whispers, though her voice seems to echo throughout her mind, loud and booming in the small space. Another pain catches her by surprise and Willow quickly grabs at her stomach, her face a mask of pain and questions.

Standing quickly, Angel makes a step towards Willow, but stops, his hands twisting in his pockets. He is afraid of what he has done; afraid to let her know for it is obvious to him she does not understand. He can feel the tears prick at his eyes, threatening a downpour, but he holds them at bay.

"Willow," he says just as softly. "I ... I'm sorry." Those words open the floodgates, he sinks back to the chair he had been sitting in, and his head falls to his hands as sobs wrack his body.

His apology seems unwarranted in her mind, confused as she is, and it takes her a moment to do anything other than stare at him in bewilderment. Willow walks slowly around the bed, her movements hampered by the agony in her stomach that doesn't seem to be going away, but it is manageable - for now. She sees his muscles stiffen as she comes closer, though he still does not look up at her.

Unable to stay silent, she says, "Angel, what - what is going on?"

Shaking his head, he finally looks up at her, remorse, guilt, and a million other unnamable emotions streak across his face, stained as it is by his tears. Angel's mouth opens as if to say something, but it seems his words get caught in his throat and he looks away, gathering himself.

"I was too late," he says in a gruff tone.

"Too late for what? I don't, I don't understand."

His eyes make their way back to hers, and this time he does not look away as he speaks. "There was nothing I could do. You were -" his voice cuts out, sobs wanting to break free choke him.

The words he speaks, they mean nothing and everything to Willow. She knows they are a part of the puzzle, just as the weight on her chest and the pain in her stomach, but she is in no state to be putting the pieces together and the answer still eludes her. Anger bubbles below the surface of her skin - anger at him for not speaking clearly, and anger at herself for not understanding fully what it is he is trying to say.

"What is wrong with me?" Willow's voice is dangerously low, gravelly and the anger pushes out behind it. Angel flinches, as if her words have dealt him a blow. Already she is sick of his dodging and cryptic behavior. He has the answers; she can see that in the way he doesn't look at her for long, in the crease in his brow.

Inside, Willow can feel something twisting inside of her, a part of her but separate, as if she is housing an animal in her body. It unfurls and stretches through her, seemingly pulling the anger and pain into itself, reveling in it. The sensation is so completely out of the ordinary, that for a moment, Willow forgets where she is and that she is trying to get answers from Angel, but instead focuses her attention inward to this beast, this thing.

The feeling scares Willow as much as it intrigues her. A movement from the corner of her eye catches her attention and she turns quickly to see Angel standing. His face, though he is trying hard to be guarded, shows his own surprise, as if he too knows what is going on inside of her.

"What did you do?” Willow asks. She stops, wondering why she asked that, why she phrased it like that. However, that was apparently the correct wording because Angel's face is now a mask of pain.

"I told you," he says, trying to keep his voice calm an even. "I was too late. You - you were dying."

"What do you mean I was dying? I'm standing right here." Another jolt of pain shocks Willow for a moment and she doubles over. "What did you do, Angel? Why am I hurting?"

"I couldn't let you ...," he says, but trails off.

This lack of conviction Angel has that makes him unable to say what needs to be said upsets Willow. In a burst of anger and speed, she throws out a punch that lands squarely on Angel's chin, causing him to fall back into his chair. The punch stuns them both for a second and they stare at each other in mutual disbelief before Willow moves forward.

"I'm not asking again. Tell me what you did."

Angel nods almost imperceptibly and swallows thickly before speaking. "I didn't know it was you, up there. I went to see if I could help, but ... your wrist." He points to it and Willow once again notices that there is nothing there, not even a scar. "It was deep. I don't know how long you had been bleeding before I got there, but ... I couldn't help you."

"You did something," Willow said, stating the obvious for lack of anything else to say.

Again, he nods. "You have given me more than I could ever repay you for, and I owe you more than just my life. But, I was too late to help you. I had no choice. You were ... you were slipping." He stops, looks away, shame falling off him in waves thick enough to drown in. "I'm sorry."

The puzzle, oddly shaped though it is, slowly comes together in Willow's mind. She had been dying, that much she remembers. The gash on her arm had been too deep, she had bled out for too long ... then Angel had come. She remembered thinking that he had come to save her.

"You made me a vampire," Willow says softly as the last piece clicks into place. It all makes sense to her now, the feelings that are running through her, the way her breathing wasn’t doing what she had known it should be … the way Angel looked as if someone had died. She had died. She is dead.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t leave you like that,” he says softly, standing quickly and moving away from her. He cannot look upon her at this moment, afraid that he will see something there, some spark that she now hates him because he was too weak to let her die as she ought to have done.

Willow watches him, knows that he is feeling grief and a piece of her knows that she too should be feeling hurt or angry that he had done this to her – but she doesn’t. Where those feelings should be, she finds herself almost empty, as if those emotions no longer exist.

A sharp stabbing sensation cuts across her stomach, and this time she falls to the floor, clutching her stomach with the pain. Angel is at her side almost immediately, asking her what is wrong, but she cannot speak through the pain. Her teeth grind down as she tries to take in unneeded air.

“It hurts,” Willow finally manages to say. Her eyes lift up to him and the remorse that had momentarily lifted is back again.

“You need … blood,” he says.

She watches as his face goes blank. He stands and moves away from her line of sight. Willow tries to follow his movement, but the ache doubles and she curls into a ball on the floor. Something is opened in the distance and closed again, then she hears the soft beeps of a microwave as it is turned on, the hum gives her something to focus on other than the pain. Finally, he comes back towards her.

The thing that inhabits her, which she now knows is the demon, smells the blood and her face shifts in loud pops and the crunching of bones. The glass with the crimson liquid is close and she reaches for it quickly, tipping the contents back as fast as she can swallow. Almost immediately, the pain in her abdomen subsides, replaced now with a dull ache, easily ignored for now.

“Thank you,” Willow says softly, handing the now empty glass back to Angel. He takes it, sets it aside, and crouches down before her.

With a shaking hand, Angel reaches out to touch Willow’s face where it has changed into the demon. Her eyes close as he softly traces the ridges of her new mask, enjoying the sensation. Too quickly, however, he pulls away and stands, backing away from her.

“Angel.” She says no more than that, but it is enough to have him shaking again. Full body sobs wrack his body silently as he looks upon her.

“I’m so sorry, Willow,” he says, repeating the four words like a mantra that would eventually make everything all right again.

This goes on for minutes, making Willow uncomfortable. She slowly stands from the floor, dusting off her pants before noticing that there is no hope for them. They are dirty and bloody – ruined. Her line of thought is so trivial to her in the whole of things that she cannot stop the small laugh that bubbles out. It catches her off guard and she covers her mouth, giving Angel a look of apology as he turns to her, almost as if he had forgotten she was there in the room with him.

"Angel, don't. I ... I'm okay. I think," she says, thinking that maybe this will reassure him in some small way. While logically, Willow knows that she is no longer ‘okay’, that she is in fact very far from being all right; she does not feel that anything is truly wrong with her anymore. The hurt and betrayal by her friends, while still a bit tender, no longer carries the same sting she remembers it having.

There is probably something they could say to each other at this moment as they stare silently, but neither can think of anything. Sure, there are trivialities, such as the weather, or the state of Willow’s well being – which is unequivocally dead – but they don’t say such things and instead let the silence hang between them.

Thus begins Willow’s new life in death.

Romancing Red - A/S/W - NC-17 - Chapter 7

2008-09-07T20:39:18Z

Title: Romancing Red
Author: claudia6913
Rating: R
Pairing: W/S W/A W/S/A
Summary: Angel comes to Sunnydale to help Buffy, but finds a certain redhead won’t stay out of his thoughts. Spike is jealous of Angel’s newfound appreciation for the Witch. He decides to give him a run for his money. From Angel and Spike’s POV. Set during ‘Pangs’.
Warnings: Threesomes, m/m/f, some slash.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and seek nothing other then pure enjoyment from these fics, Joss and Co. owns all
Distribution: NHA and everyone else I post to, all others just ask. All of my fic is archived at my site. http://www.angelfire.com/vamp/claudia6913
Authors Notes: This was supposed to be collaboration between stephy_cats and myself; however, I cannot get a hold of her so I am finishing it.
Feedback: ghoztstarz@yahoo.com I love feedback like candy. =0)

(Angel’s POV)

That was utterly humiliating. I can’t believe it. We were right in front of the dorms! I should have known better. Of course that’s the most likely place for Buffy to be! Then to have that Riley fellow there as well. Spike, amazingly enough is following my like I asked. Interesting.

What am I going to do? Why did I ask Spike to come back to LA with me? To protect him? From what exactly? More to protect Willow from him, though, I’m not sure he’s the biggest threat in Sunnydale anymore. Not after hearing about that Initiative group. What if they find him again? Obviously that Riley fellow is one of them. Why Buffy is dating him, I’ll never understand.

What if they find out that Willow is a witch? What would they do to her? She’s human, and not really a threat to anyone. I can’t imagine that they would actually try to harm her, but you never know. Might do good to invite Willow along, too. Maybe.

Finally he catches up with me. Took him a few. Wonder what’s going on in that bleached head of his? There are so many questions and not enough damn answers for my liking. He’s being awfully quiet, just walking there next to me. Too quiet for him. He’s one of those people, or vampires, that have to constantly be talking, for some reason or another. I think he has what today would be called, Attention Deficit Disorder.

We make it back to my apartment without incident, without words. I silently invite him in and go to heat up some blood for us. I hear him slump down into one of the only chairs in the room, and it groans under his weight. The ding goes off on the microwave and I grab the mugs and go to sit down in the other chair, handing a mug to Spike.

“So,” he says exhaling a cloud of smoke, “you want me to run off to the City of Angel with you, eh?”

“That was the idea, Spike,” I say and down the blood. One mug just won’t do it. There is just something about Spike that grates on me. He causes some reaction within me…I just don’t know what.

“What about Red?”

“What about her?” I ask confused. I don’t remember saying I was taking Red…err Willow, too. The whole point of taking Spike to LA with me was to get him away from Willow, well, and to keep him from those people that put that chip in his head.

“The bond,” he says eyeing me. “Haven’t forgot about that have you? Getting forgetful in your old age, Peaches?”

I leap to my feet and stand over him. I meant to do this a while ago, ever since I found out about the bond. I pull back and hit him square in the face. The chair falls over with him in it. There, I feel better now. I walk back to my chair and sit down calmly. Spike is sitting up on his elbows just looking at me. The ice blue of his eyes turning yellow for a second, just enough to show what he thought of that little act. Fine, be pissed. Right now, he deserves it.

“Right, now that that’s out of your system, can we get back to what we were bloody talking about? Or do you feel the need to trade blows for a bit? I’m itching for a bit of violence myself right about now,” he says. Righting the chair, he stays standing kind of shaking loose, readying for a fight.

“Sit,” I say tersely. He gives me a strange look, like he wasn’t expecting that, but ends up sitting anyways.

“So…,” he says, his voice trailing off.

“Are you coming to LA with me or not?” I ask. He sits silently, thinking. “For all I care you can sit here and let those government people come and prod at your head some more. God knows they won’t mess anything up in there. However, I’d rather not see that happen if I can do anything about it. So, are you coming?”

“Well, see that’s where we run into a problem,” he says throwing a leg over the chair and lighting up.

“What problem?” I ask. I really don’t want to know what he has conjured up. Spike is quick and devious, no matter how much he pretends otherwise. He could have rivaled Angelus if he’d half a mind to. I never understood why he didn’t. Questions for another time.

“Money, smokes, blood, and a place to lay my dead bones. Can’t have me just wandering around your city and getting into trouble can you?” Spike says with a grin. So, there’s the catch. Seeing that I’ve only got the one small apartment, and I definitely don’t want him living with me, I think I’ll be generous. For now.

“Ok,” I say simply. “But—“

“I knew it!” Spike says surging to his feet and cutting me off. “Can’t just leave it at a simple ‘Ok’, can you? Always got to bloody be asking for more, until everything I have is yours. So, what is it now Angelus? Do you want the un-beating heart from my chest? How about the breath I don’t need? You’re already trying to take my Red!”

I’m too stunned to say anything and he looks a little startled by his outburst. I don’t know what to say. An apology would just look like I’m placating him, and if I know Spike, he would get even more pissed at that. But, where did this ‘his’ Red, uh Willow, come from? This is the second or third time he’s said this. Since when did he develop feelings for Willow? Does she like him? If so, what’s she doing kissing me?

Sometimes I wish for the simple life again. Drinking, fucking, sleeping, it was so easy. No thought except for who’s paying for the next ale, and how to get the bar maid into the back alley for a quick go. Hell, even being a vampire back then was simple, before I got heavy into bloodlust. All I had to do was find the next donor. And please Darla endlessly, which was no small feat, but I enjoyed it.

“Do you love her?” I ask.

“Do you?”

“I asked first, Spike.”

“Doesn’t matter does it? Red’ll choose you anyways. They always bloody choose you,” he says slumping back in the chair and lighting up, again.

“Do you love her?” I ask again.

“Bloody hell, what do you want me to say? No, I don’t love the chit. I care about her. I could love her, but that doesn’t matter,” he says somewhat to himself. “Do you love her? Honestly?”

“Honestly? No, I don’t. I care for her a great deal and she’s a wonderful human being, but…”

“You still love the Slayer,” Spike says for me.

I nod. I don’t tell him that I don’t love Buffy like I used to, that I know now it was a mistake…something that shouldn’t have been. I don’t tell him that I as well could love Willow. That I might already. There is just something about Willow. With Buffy it was her liveliness and the fact that she is destined to die young. Willow is just, well, she’s shy and quiet, yet at the same time she has this incredible depth to her. You feel like you can talk to her about anything and she won’t judge you for it. She’s extremely caring to the point of not even worrying about herself if there is someone else in need. Her laugh is just…and her smile is…those eyes… You get my point. She’s just Willow.

“So mate, what do we do about Red? Can’t leave her here if I am skipping town. She’s got to come with me. Where I go little Red is sure to follow,” Spike says bringing me out of my thoughts.

“Huh? Why?”

“The bond, ya big Poufter. I don’t know the extent of it. I don’t know how close she has to stay to me, if she does at all. Are you willing to chance it?”

“Do you remember anything you read about it?! How could you just go and do that to her? She’s just an innocent!” I yell. Standing up I go to pace the small apartment.

“I wasn’t thinking at the time. Being tied up for almost a month straight tends to shake loose a few marbles. ‘Sides, it’s not like she couldn’t end it, if she wanted to.”

“Fine. I’ll ask her to come to LA too. She can stay with Cordelia, or I could get her a place of her own,” I say thinking out loud. “I’ll just tell her that I need help with the computer system or something. Then, you can tell her you want her to remove the bond so she can come back here and live her life.”

“Works for me, Peaches,” Spike says and gets up to leave. “Be seeing you.”

The door bangs shut after him. I barely notice it. Sighing, I go and lie down. Great. Now I have to lie to Willow. Get her to come to LA and make sure Spike has Willow remove the bond.

Romancing Red - A/W/S - NC-17 - chapter 6

2008-09-07T20:38:18Z

Title: Romancing Red
Author: claudia6913
Rating: R
Pairing: W/S W/A W/S/A
Summary: Angel comes to Sunnydale to help Buffy, but finds a certain redhead won’t stay out of his thoughts. Spike is jealous of Angel’s newfound appreciation for the Witch. He decides to give him a run for his money. From Angel and Spike’s POV. Set during ‘Pangs’.
Warnings: Threesomes, m/m/f, some slash.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and seek nothing other then pure enjoyment from these fics, Joss and Co. owns all
Distribution: NHA and everyone else I post to, all others just ask. All of my fic is archived at my site. http://www.angelfire.com/vamp/claudia6913
Authors Notes: This was supposed to be collaboration between stephy_cats and myself; however, I cannot get a hold of her so I am finishing it.
Feedback: ghoztstarz@yahoo.com I love feedback like candy. =0)

(Spike's POV)

"Hello Peaches," I say from behind him. He turns around to face me.

"Spike," Peaches says through clenched teeth.

Well, well, look at what we have here. The Pouf just won't give up will he? What I wouldn't give to knock that scowl off his face.

"Right, now that we've firmly established who we are, what do you want? Here to play Rapunzel?" I asked taking out a fag and lighting it.

"No, just making sure Willow got home ok. You're not exactly known for your 'Good Intentions'," he says getting in my face. I really hate that you know. It's all posturing and seeing who's got the bigger set. Me? I know I'm good, well, now with this bloody chip I don't know.

"What ever let's you sleep during the long lonely days," I say nonchalantly. "Just so long as you don't have any delusions, Red is mine."

"No, Spike, Willow is her own person. Just because you tricked her into a bond with you doesn't make her yours," he says jabbing a finger into my chest.

"Oh really? Who did she let walk her home? I know you followed us. So, I also know that you heard our little conversation. She didn't want out of the bond, Peaches. Face it. This time, you don't get the girl. Deal with it. Go back to LA with your little cheerleader and ex-Watcher and your attempt at redemption and leave us the hell alone," I say and stomp out my fag. He just stands there, jaw clenching and hands flexing. "That's right. Now, if you don't mind, I've got relatively better things to be going on with..."

"No Spike, that's where you are wrong. The only reason she didn't back out of the bond is to protect her friends, it had nothing to do with any feelings for you," the Pouf says spinning me around to face him again. Always trying to be the domineering one he is. Bloody annoying at times, like now.

"Whatever. I see that you believe that. Won't shatter your illusions. Just so you don't forget, as your neanderthal brain is wont to do, Red is mine."

I didn't see the fist until it was too late to keep it from impacting hard with my face, busting my lower lip. I tasted my own blood. The damn Ponce continued throwing punches and kicks. I could do nothing but block them, and that I'm not doing very well. I'm getting my arse kicked...not my idea of a good bloody time. I am getting sick of this and decide to throw a punch of my own, chip or no chip. I don't care, Pouf's got it coming. The punch lands with exact precision, spinning him. I grab my head expecting pain...but there is none. I roar in delight! This is just too bloody good.

After a few minutes of trying to beat each other bloody he grabs my wrists and holds them at my sides. Stupid bugger. He just looks at me for a minute, then looks down at my cut and bloody lip. I know he can smell the blood, his is just as thick on the air, almost intoxicating like.

What he does next boggles my mind. The Ponce leans in and draws his tongue along the line of blood coming from my lip. He hovers just above my lips, looking into my eyes. I can see flecks of gold flash throughout his brow eyes. His arousal scents the air, and I'm taken aback. This is not what I had planned. I'd just wanted to taunt, maybe throw a few punches and leave. Not this, not this...whatever it is.

"Wha-," I start to ask, but I'm cut off by his tongue that has invaded my mouth. How the hell did he do that? Always forcing himself where he is least wanted, and yet wanted all the more for being there. I give in to the sensations and kiss back, which reassures him enough to let him release my arms. I grab the back of his head and press him closer, wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling him arse first, flush against me. He moans into the kiss letting me take over. Peaches wraps his arms around me and fingers the old scar that had been given to me by Dru, but he'd bitten over it enough times to make it his claim as well. Our hips move convulsively against one another, each of us straining for that friction that guarantee's pleasure.

We are too engrossed in each other to notice the couple that walks up, until one of them gasps then makes an 'Eww' noise. That voice, the tingling along my spine. It can only be one person. The Slayer. Bloody hell, this is just not my night. I break away from Peaches. He doesn't notice Slutty and Capitan Cardboard until I turn his face to look at them.

"Hello Slayer," I say and light up. This should be fun. Slutty catching the love of her life lip-locked to her mortal enemy.

"Uhh, Buffy, hi," The Pouf says lamely. If the bloke could blush he'd be crimson by now. Peaches is floundering, not lookin' at her.

"What the...what was that?" Slutty asked pointing between Peaches and I.

"Well, I see Capitan Cardboard and Peaches haven't taught you anything. That was a kiss you see. It's when--"

"I know what it is!" The Slayer says frantically, cutting me off. "I meant, well, I don't know what I meant. That was just...," she says trailing off and making a disgusted face. Solider Boy is just standing there gaping. Boy's probably never seen two men together, though, he is in the military. Maybe he's just not used to seeing it outside of the barracks.

We stand there for a few minutes. No one is saying a word. Peaches doesn't know what to say, shifting from foot to foot nervously. The Slayer and her boy are still trying to get over their shock of the situation.

"Are you gay Angel?" Slutty asks out of nowhere. I have to hold back the laughter that is threatening to come pouring out. The look on Peaches face is just too much, I let it out in loud guffaws. The look of death he shoots my way does nothing to curb my laughter.

"We're vampires, no inhibitions. Thought you would have read that in those Watcher's Diary's," I say through the tail end of my laughing fit. She looks at me like I'm crazy. Then looks at my wrists. Oh no, Slutty is thinking.

"Why are you lose?" The Slayer asks.

"Wait, they're vampires?" Soldier Boy asks. He gets into a somewhat fighting stance, as if it would matter.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry Riley," The Slayer says. "This is Angel, and Spike."

"But they're vampires," he says. Boy, he catches on quick doesn't he? Must be all that superior military training. Peaches just nods and looks away. Stupid bugger, he's still ashamed of what he is. Figures.

"Yeah, well now that we have that established...why don't you two go shag or whatever it was you were going to do, and leave the Pouf and I to our business."

"We have no business Spike," Peaches says.

"Oh, I think we do, but we will get to that later," I say and turn back to Slutty and Capitan Cardboard. I wave them away with a flick of the wrist. The Slayer looks at me with a look that says 'You did not just shoo me'. Should've known that wouldn't work.

"Wait, I know you from somewhere," Soldier Boy says stepping closer to look at me. Fuck.

"Yeah, I live 'round here."

"No, not around here...you're Hostile 17!" he exclaims and jumps back reaching for his handy phone. Bloody hell. The Slayer looks alarmed and reaches for him, drawing him away and pulling the phone out of his hands. What's this now? Peaches looks at me quizzically.

"Buffy, what are you doing? That's Hostile 17. I have to call Walsh and let her know, then get the men down here to bring him back," Soldier Boy says.

"No, don't. Listen he can't hurt humans ok?" Slutty says.

"But--"

"No, look. Let me talk to them real quick. You go on up to the room and see if Willow is there. Stay there until I come back, then we will talk ok? I'm also keeping the phone," The Slayer says and pushes him off towards the dorm, then walks back to where Peaches and I are standing.

"How did you get out?" she asks, poking me in the chest.

"Oi, what does it matter to you? Like you said to G.I. Joe over there, I can't hurt humans..."

"Did Giles let you go?"

"Again, what does it matter--"

"Willow let him go," Peaches says. Ok, he really needs to be quiet. Is he trying to get me staked here? I look at him pointedly, asking him with my eyes. He just shrugs and looks back to the Slayer who is standing there mouth gaping.

"What did you do to Willow?" The Slayer asks darkly.

"Nothing. You know what a bleeding heart Red is. She couldn't stand to see me trussed up like that. Bloody nice of her if you ask me."

"But I didn't ask you Spike. I swear, if you did something to her I will dust you," she says and stalks off to the dorms.

I turn back to the Ponce and deck him good, knocking him to the ground. He gets back up quickly and growls.

"What was that for?" he asks.

"For bloody telling the Slayer that Red let me go. Are you out of your gourd? You could have gotten me staked! And then where would Red be?" I ask furious. He looks at me confused, then it dawns on him. "Yeah, that'll teach you to bleeding think sometimes."

"I'm...I'm sorry. I guess I'm still not used to the whole bond thing," he says rubbing his face where I punched him. "Look, I've got an idea--"

I laugh cutting him off, "That's a good one."

"Just listen Spike. I don't know what's going on with this, what was it, Hostile 17 crap, but I don't think you are safe here. Why don't you come back to LA with me?"

I stand there stunned. Back to LA? With Peaches? No Slayer, no Soldier Boys, it's almost too good. There's got to be a catch, always is. "Why?" I ask suspiciously.

"For one to get you away from Willow, and for two...I really think Buffy might stake you. You know Willow will end up telling her. They're best friends. Speaking of which, why don't we head back to my apartment to talk?" he says and starts off walking. I just stand there gaping.

So, ok, I knew the Red thing was coming. I'm not stupid, but him worrying about me getting staked is something new. First the kiss, and now this. What the bloody hell is running through that gel slicked mind of his? Might be worth it to find out. I walk to catch up with him lighting a fag and wondering what exactly is going on here.

Romancing Red - A/W/S - NC-17 - Chapter 5

2008-09-07T20:37:22Z

Romancing Red - A/W/S - NC-17 - Chapter4

2008-09-07T20:35:52Z

Title: Romancing Red
Author: claudia6913
Rating: R
Pairing: W/S W/A W/S/A
Summary: Angel comes to Sunnydale to help Buffy, but finds a certain redhead won’t stay out of his thoughts. Spike is jealous of Angel’s newfound appreciation for the Witch. He decides to give him a run for his money. From Angel and Spike’s POV. Set during ‘Pangs’.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and seek nothing other then pure enjoyment from these fics, Joss and Co. owns all
Distribution: NHA and everyone else I post to, all others just ask.
Authors Notes: This was supposed to be collaboration between stephy_cats and myself; however, I cannot get a hold of her so I am finishing it.
Feedback: ghoztstarz@yahoo.com I love feedback like candy. 

This part is dedicated to Knightie!! Happy Birthday! Hope there’s enough Spike-like goodness in it to appease. Sorry it's late though. The computer hates me or something.

(Spikes POV)

Bloody nice to be out of that tub. Out of the chains. Thanks to Red. My Red. I wonder if the bond has taken effect yet. I reach out, feeling my Sire miles away, and Peaches, but no Red yet. What the bloody hell is Peaches still doing in town? Thought for sure he would have left. Don’t even know why he came in the first place. Thought the Slayer drove him out of town.

I can’t believe the stupid Ponce is staying in that apartment. That’s where he ‘lost it’ to the slayer, isn’t it? Think he takes that self-deprecation a little too far sometimes. Ah, well, so long as he stays out of my way I’ll be happy. Live my unlife the way I want with my Red by my side. Would have thought he’d have gone to that nancy boy mansion he was so bloody in love with.

Wonder where Red is. Should be here with me, shagging me senseless. Ah, well, a bloke can hope can’t he? Cor, I need a fag. Maybe a bit of violence. I’d love to beat up on Peaches, but I got this feeling he’s on her ‘friend’ list. Why’d I take that dammed oath again? Oh, yeah, got my Red bonded to me and got to taste some of that blood of hers. I could live off her forever. Hmm, not a bad idea that. No, I like her humanity, all warm and pumping.

“Bloody hell!” I swear I didn’t just feel what I felt. No, just my imagination taking flight. Thinking too much about Red I was. I didn’t just feel her breath on my neck, or smell her standing so close she could’ve touched me, or her lips on mine.

The feelings leave as quickly as they started. I have to sit down just to keep from toppling over like I'm sloshed. Fag, now. I light up and inhale the smoke into my already dead lungs. So, what was that all about? I can still smell Red on the air, like she's just out of sight. Teach me to use an oath I didn't look up. Bloody just saw it one day. Though, I actually did mean every word I said. Didn't I? I mean, will I really not kill Chubs, and the Slayer? Or the Watcher for that matter? No, damn me to hell, I won't. Not because I like them mind you, but because she asked me.

My God I'm turning into Peaches! No, no, I'm not. Just calm down and breathe. Wait, don't need to breath. No panicking. Ok, I'm all right. Need a bloody drink. Maybe a shag. Wonder where Red is. I wonder what Red was doing. Bloody hell, all this wondering will get me nowhere, fast.

I think I'll head over to Willie's and get me a drink. Nothing like alcohol to numb you. I pull out a cigarette and start walking in the general direction of Willie's though, honestly, I'm not paying a damn bit of attention to where I'm going. Yeah, I know, probably should be paying attention, but I'm not. Just letting my feet take me where they want, and if that leads to alcohol then so be it.

Funny thing is, I swear that Willie's is in the other direction. Bloody hell! I know where I am, smack dab in front of Angel's sodding apartment. I hide in the shadows, waiting for whatever it is that decided to drag me here.

Ahh, I see now. Red comes walking out of the apartment, waving to the bloody Pouf. He's grinning like mad, and even from here I can smell him on her. I should just rip his fucking head off! I growl at him, low and menacing. The Ponce looks up, he knows I'm here...just not where. Shit. He walks towards Willow, probably going to try and walk her home like a dammed knight. Teach me to bloody open my mouth. Red is shaking her head. Good girl, she knows better. She walks off waving to Angel again, and walks...right towards me. What the...?

"Spike?" she whispers.

"Yeah, love," I say stepping from the shadows. Just being near her is driving me mad. Her heat flowing across me. Cor, it feels so dammed good.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I...I just wanted to make sure you were ok, and wondering what the Pouf is doing in town. Possibly even why you were at his place. Just the usual stuff Red."

"Oh, well...Angel, he's, he's here because one of his friends had a vision about those Chumash Indians, and Buffy being in trouble. I don't know what he's still doing in town. Why don't you ask him?"

I let out a snort of disgust at the thought of actually talking to the Wanker. Like he'd tell me anyways. I know he's still watching her...us. I can feel his eyes.

"So, Red, walk you home?" I ask extending the crook of my arm, like the gentleman I am. She looks at me warily. Guess the bond isn't in full swing yet on her end. I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding when she slips her delicate hand over my forearm. Her heat radiates through the duster, warming that area.

We walk in silence for a while. I'm quite content to listen to her breathing, listen to that heart of hers beating in a steady rhythm. The way the lights glint off her hair...bloody hell. I'm waxing poetic. Someone stake me now. Please.

"Spike?" she asks, breaking me from any further embarrassing lines my sodding mind can think up.

"Yeah luv, what is it?"

"Well, it's just that...something Angel said got me thinking. I wanted to ask you about the oath."

I sigh and close my eyes for a second. We stop walking. I should have known the little Witch would have figured it out. Leave it to her to not let a bloke get away with anything. What am I going to tell her? 'Oh, sorry bout that luv, it just slipped out. Didn't mean to bond you to me?' Yeah, that will go over well mate. Just dig your grave...again. Wait...something Angel said? Shit!

"Oh yeah luv? What did the all mighty Pouf have to say that got your brain tweaked?" I ask casually. No need to get mad at her. I can always kill the Ponce later.

"Umm, see he could smell you on me, and he asked what happened. I...I uh, told him, well, everything. He got pretty mad, and told me exactly what being bonded to you meant. I uh, I just wanted to know if you meant to do that? The bonding I mean...because, I'm sure if you didn't I could always find a way to un-bond us or something," she says in a rush. I think I caught only every other word. When Red gets going, she really gets going.

Right, so did I mean to bond her to me? Bloody hell yes I did! Will I tell her that? Probably not. Don't need to scare the chit.

"Well, Red, I can't say that the bonding was part of the plan, but I can't say I mind either," I say and add a little smirk, just for the blush that creeps up her face.

"Oh, umm ok."

"Right, so, off to your dorm is it?"

"Yeah," she says biting her lower lip. My Red looks distressed. I sigh. Should I say something? Be serious and tell her how much she's grown on me...then have her tear me down. No. Little lying never hurt anyone, much.

"Red," I say turning her to face me. I gently tilt her head up to look at me. "Look, I bloody like you ok? You just happen to be the only one of the Scabby Gang I can tolerate for more then two sodding seconds. So, if you want to break the bond then that's fine. Do what you want, but I can't promise to keep the oath then."

There. I said it. Without lying? Bloody hell I'm getting soft. She is just looking at me with those big green eyes. I don't know what she's trying to see, but I can't take the staring. I fumble around for a fag. I light it and start walking again with Red just standing there looking at my back, her eyes boring into me. Damn her! Can't she just be like any other chit, take the bond with a thanks and a shag? No, she's got to bloody analyze it. Pick it apart. Find the real meaning behind everything bloody makes living complicated. When you've unlived for as long as I have you learn to simplify things. Blood, alcohol, fags, shagging, and a place to stay out of the sun. It's all I really need. Well, now Red, but I'm NOT telling her that.

"Coming Red?" I say over my shoulder. She shakes off her thoughts and comes walking briskly up beside me.

"Spike, you're a pain in the butt, you know that?"

"Yeah luv, I do. I've got to have something to amuse myself during the lonely years don't I?"

"Lonely?"

Ok, no more talking for me. Can't keep my bloody gob closed for two seconds before I go off spouting Pouf-like confessions. Instead of answering her, I toss my fag, and pull her close to me. I've already said I'm lonely, might as well show her too.

The Witch is looking up at me, wide eyed, heart racing. I inhale her scent, a mixture of fear, anticipation, and what's this...arousal? Hmm, maybe a good thing this. I slowly lower my lips to hers, never taking my eyes off of her. Letting her see just a little of what I've been going through. Just enough to pull a small gasp from her at the realization. Our lips come together, soft, fluttering kisses. Barely grazing the other. Bloody wonderful it is, but I want more, need more. I take advantage of her parted lips and ease my tongue into her warm mouth. Tracing ever part of her that I can find, teeth, tongue, lips, everything.

Red relaxes in my arms and kisses back. So much more then I could have bloody hoped for. I can taste my Grand-Sire on her tongue, but I don't say or do anything. Besides, where is she now? In my arms. I laugh in my head at the great Ponce. The kiss ends too soon. Humans and their need to breath, always forgetting about that.

Looking at her I can't help but be thankful I don't need to breath. She looks bloody magnificent with her lust filled eyes, and those thoroughly kissed lips. I dip back for more. Kissing, nipping, anything I can do to get me closer to my Red. My lips are on fire, my hands burn. Her heat coursing through me, like fresh blood. Too much, way too bloody much. I can't...just can't. She means too much to me now. Sod it all, but I think I may be falling for the little Witch. Just my luck.

Romancing Red - A/W/S - NC-17 - Chapter 3

2008-09-07T20:34:23Z

Title: Romancing Red
Author: claudia6913
Rating: R
Pairing: W/S W/A W/S/A
Summary: Angel comes to Sunnydale to help Buffy, but finds a certain red-head won’t stay out of his thoughts. Spike is jealous of Angel’s new found appreciation for the Witch. He decides to give him a run for his money. From Angel and Spike’s POV. Set during ‘Pangs’.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and seek nothing other then pure enjoyment from these fics, Joss and Co. owns all
Distribution: NHA and everyone else I post to, all others just ask.
Authors Notes: This was supposed to be collaboration between myself and stephy_cats, however, I can not get a hold of her so I am finishing it.
Feedback: ghoztstarz@yahoo.com I love feedback like candy. =0)

(Angel’s POV)

Some might say I’ve become obsessed, what with my constant thoughts of Willow. Thoughts of how to talk to her, how to touch her. I’m not obsessed, just curious. She’s just so…well Willow. I should have left for LA after I talked to her. Should have packed what little I brought and gone back to my life, away from the Scooby’s, but I couldn’t leave her. Maybe I can ask her to come to LA with me. Tell her I need some computer work done or something. No, that would require me to actually have a computer system for her to work on. As it is, we only have the one Cordelia works off of. Desperate? Me? Never.

I forgot how long it took to get dark here. It seems like the sun has been setting for hours. Which technically it has, but…never mind. I need to get out. Probably should turn on the electric and phone too. That is, if I’m staying. Am I staying? *sigh* Yes I’m staying.

“Thank God,” I say as I feel the last of the sun’s ray’s dip beyond the horizon.

I walk to the door, and stop with my hand on the knob. Where am I going? Well, I was going to go look for Willow, but chances are good that she’s within close proximity to Buffy. Not somewhere I want to be. Close to Buffy that is. I’d love to be close to Willow. That is a given now.

Oh, yeah, turn on the electric and phone. I walk out of the dark apartment to go find a phone. I remember there being one just a block from here. I walk purposefully towards the phone. Don’t really need to hide my presence here. Buffy never patrolled this area. I pretty much kept control. But, I’m not here anymore, at least as far as she knows. Damn, this is hard. Shadow hopping I go then.

I make it to the phone and realize I don’t have any quarters. Can I be just a little more unprepared? Probably, but I’m not going to press my luck. I could probably just break the phone to get some quarters, but I’m the good guy, and this isn’t a dire circumstance, so off to the corner market I go.

I walk in the door with a *ding* that let’s the attendant know someone has come in. The guy at the counter is young, a kid really. He looks bored reading a comic. I walk up to the counter and place a five dollar bill on the counter.

“I need four quarters,” I say.

“You need to buy something,” the kid says without looking up. What the hell? Buy something? I don’t eat, don’t drink…well except for blood and last I knew they didn’t sell pigs blood in convenient stores. I look around. Nothing I want. Well, cigarettes maybe. Not like I have to worry about my health.

“Give me a pack of cigarettes,” I say. The kid finally looks up at me.

“I.D. please.”

“What?”

“Your I.D., so I can check your age,” he says exasperated. Check my age? I can’t believe it. I’ve been carded…well doesn’t that just top all. I’m 246 years old!

“Look, I just need some change to make a few phone calls. You told me I need to buy something. Trust me when I say I’m old enough for a pack of cigarettes, or just give me the change.” This is just ridiculous.

“Oi, he’s plenty old enough,” a voice says from behind me. I groan. This is not my day. Just not my century to be honest.

“Isn’t that right Peaches?”

“Spike,” I say turning around to face him.

“Here, I’ll get that pack and get one for me if you would,” Spike says stepping around me up to the counter. The kid rings up the purchase.

“That’s six twenty five,” the clerk says. Spike grabs one pack and motions to the clerk.

“You heard the good man. Pay up.”

“What? I am not paying for you. Besides, what are you doing out. Last I heard you where a little tied up,” I say. Pay up my ass. The clerk was just standing there waiting for his payment. I sighed and pulled another five out of my pocket and placed it on the counter. The clerk took the money, giving me my change and the four quarters I’d originally asked for. I grabbed the cigarettes and walked out of the store pulling a cig out. Shit. No lighter. A light flared to life off to my side. Looks like Spike had followed me out. I gave him a questioning look and he just shrugged. I light the cig and give a nod. What the hell is Sunnydale coming to?

“So, what do you want?” I ask. Everything with Spike comes at a price. I taught him that, or rather Angelus did. Even that little offer of a light will cost something. It’s been a while since I’ve had a cig, well since Angelus’ last appearance. I’m kind of not used to forcing myself to breath.

“Same thing every bloke wants. Blood, a good shag, nice spot of violence,” he says walking next to me, but out of arms reach. He may be arrogant as hell, but he’s not stupid.

“If you were just looking for an ass kicking, all you have to do is ask,” I say. What does he want? “But, I’ve got a few phone calls to make, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“Right, just wanted to tell you to stay away from my Red. Got that Peaches?” he said and is gone in a puff of smoke.

I’m floored. Did he say ‘stay away from his Red’? His Red? When did this happen? She didn’t smell like him when I saw her yesterday. Did I mention this just isn’t my century?

Nothing I can do about it now, not until I talk to Red, I mean Willow. God knows when I’ll get that chance again. I walk to the phone and make my calls. With a little bribery my electric and phone will be on in an hour. Needing blood I head to the butcher shop to stock up for a few days.

Walking up to my apartment I notice someone standing in the shadows at the door. I inhale and find its Willow, but something else hits me as well. Spike. Not the leather and smoke smell, but the blood, the scent unique to him. I growl softly. What the hell has he done now!? Willow apparently heard the growl because she let out a small gasp and her heart rate sped up. Great, just scare the poor girl. God only knows what Spike did to her.

“Willow?” I ask coming out from the shadows. She let’s out a sigh of relief and turns to me smiling. I love that smile. Not many people let it reach their eyes the way she does. It’s a mark of innocence and utterly beautiful, the way it lights up her whole face.

“Angel! Hi. Uh, I was just, well wondering if you were still here. You are. So, why are you? Not that I mind, though,” she said blushing slightly.

“Yeah, still here,” I say lamely. Does she want me to stay? Or, what?

“So, do you want to come in? I had the electric turned on,” I say opening the door. Our arms brushed lightly, a small shiver running through her and into me. I’m in so much trouble with this one. If only she knew what my dreams consisted of. I stand out side motioning that she should go in first. She does smiling again and dipping her head to hide the blush.

“So, why are you still here Angel?”

“Water?” I ask. She nods. “Well, nothing much going on in LA. I kind of wanted to see some old sites, pick up some things I left.”

“Oh,” she says slightly disappointed. “Are you going to see Buffy?”

“I actually hadn’t planned on it. Why?”

“Well, Buffy thinks you might have left. She called you and Cordelia told her you weren’t back yet. So, I don’t know if she’s keeping an eye out for you or not.”

“Right, I’ll keep that in mind,” I say handing her a glass of water.

“Thanks.”

"Can you hold on a second? I have to go make a call." She nods and I go to the phone next to the fridge. Not exactly private, but it will have to do. I call the office.

"Angel Investigations, we help your...I mean--"

"Doyle, don't worry. It's me," I say cutting him off.

"Oh Angel. Hey! So, how'd the thing go with the Blondie? And why aren’t you back yet? Cordy says if you come back as your alter-ego she’s gonna stake you, mate. I think she means it too." he says.

“I’m not Angelus,” I say sighing. “I actually stayed away from Buffy this trip.”

“So, why aren’t you back yet?”

“I still have…some things to take care of,” I say looking over at Willow. She is pretending not to pay attention to the phone conversation. It’s a little hard to do in a one room apartment but I appreciate the effort. She looks up at me, staring straight into my eyes. Her looking at me like that almost makes me think she can see straight into my soul. Doyle still talking on the other line makes me look away, “I’ll call you later ok?”

“Yeah, but Angel-“ I cut him off when I hang up the phone.

I walk back over to Willow. “Sorry about that. I had to call the office.”

“Oh, it’s uh, it’s ok. So,” she says nervously tucking a strand of that fiery copper hair behind her ear, “what do you still have to do? Not that it’s any of my business. I was just curious. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I smile. Ok, so I grin stupidly. Happy? Yeah, I know. I’m falling for her. Hard. I can’t help it. She’s just so dammed beautiful, and sweet, and sexy. I’m still staring at her and she’s waiting for an answer. Great, just scare her. Though, that isn’t fear I smell.

“Well, I wanted to check on Spike,” I say. “Ran into him down the street. It seems he got away.”

If it was possible her eyes would have popped out of her head. So, something is up. I knew it. Now I just need to find out what.

“Umm, well, see I kind of, well Ikindoflethimgo,” she says in a rush. “He didn’t like, hurt you or anything did he?”

Hurt me? Let him go? I’m amazed that after everything I’ve been through this little slip of a girl can still throw me for a loop. She’s absolutely full of surprises. Willow’s calling my name. My mind is still trying to wrap around what Spike said earlier and what she just said. Something’s clicking.

“How did he get you to let him go?”

“Oh, see, I didn’t think he should have been chained up like that. It really wasn’t necessary. He couldn’t even cut me himself for the oath; I had to do it myself. There was the oath, and he said that it was like a Vampire’s word of honor or something…,” she said. Oath huh? I listen to her as she tells me exactly what happened, and then tells me the wording. One word sticks out and brings a growl from my throat, bonded. He fucking bonded her to him! That’s why she smells like him. I smell her fear; think the growl was a little too loud.

“Willow,” I say and take a deep breath to calm down. It’s not her fault. She didn’t know. “You do know what ‘bonded’ means right?”

“Yeah, I thought that was a little odd, but I thought that meant that he like sealed the oath, not…oh, you, you mean…,” she asks finally catching on.

“Spike said you were his and told me to stay away from you.”

“No. Oh, Angel. I…I didn’t mean, that’s not what I wanted.”

I go to her and pull her into a hug. She’s shaking, fear rolling like fog from her. Poor Willow. Spike will pay for this.

“Willow, look at me.” I tilt her head to look up at me, tears are rimming her eyes. “I’ll take care of this. Ok?”

She nods and hugs me again. Soft and warm, God how I’ve missed human warmth. I lean down to capture her mouth in a soft kiss. Lightly brushing our lips together, she sighs.