Fic: Escape Me Never (Willow/Angel) 1/10 FRAO/NC-17
Here is the first chapter of the fic I started posting here yesterday. I do have to warn everyone that there is rape in this story and violence as well. Proceed with caution.
Gabrielle
Title: Escape Me Never (Chapter One)
Author: Gabrielle
Pairing: Willow/Angel
Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (for references to rape and character death)
Summary: Angel gets his soul back and discovers what his demon has done... and to whom. This was written for the Which Willow ficathon for the prompt: "What if nobody had been there to save Willow when Angelus grabbed her in the hallway?"
Feedback: Please. Thank you.
Distribution: For now, just here and my site. (Oh, and Which Willow, of course)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.
Author's Notes: If this fic seems familiar, it is because it was inspired by my drabble series, Broken, which I have always intended to turn into a real fic. I am just glad that Which Willow came along and gave me the impetus to actually do that!
Author's Notes Two: All thanks and praise to lilbreck, purplefeen, kitty_poker, Em North, shannon730, and Danielle, all of whom did a lot of hand-holding and put up with my endless whining about being unable to write! I love you guys! This fic would not exist without you!
Escape Me Never
Angel felt as though he was coming to after having been knocked unconscious. His thoughts were foggy and confused and he wasn’t quite sure where he was. Bits and pieces, fragments of incidents and conversations, came rushing into his brain, but he could make no sense of them. His last clear memory was of a searing pain ripping through him as he lay in bed next to Buffy.
Their lovemaking had been sweet, so tender and human that he had forgotten that he was a vampire, a demon, a cursed thing. He had felt like a man, the man his love deserved, and it had given him a sense of peace he thought he’d never find after everything he had been and done. Then came the pain, and then the nothingness, the nothingness that, with growing horror, he realized had not been nothingness at all. He had lost his soul; Angelus had been set free.
The sound of a heartbeat and a soft, tuneless humming drew his eyes to a corner of the dark bedroom he found himself in. If he were human, the darkness might have concealed from him the small shape huddled in the corner, but he was a vampire and his eyes caught the faint glow of red hair as if it were a candle while his nostrils filled with the scents of innocence and vanilla, picking them out from the strands of surrender, pain, and sex with which they were mingled. Red hair and innocence. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t. . .
But it was. His eyes and his sense of smell weren’t deceiving him. Willow Rosenberg was here in this cold, dark room, shivering against the chill in a thin silk shift. She had obviously been kept here for Angelus’ pleasure and the thought of what she must have endured was like a knife in his heart. As his memories began to tell him the tale of how she had come to be here and what he had done to her, Angel walked towards the girl in the corner... towards Willow.
He couldn’t believe his luck. Here he was at good guy central, Sunnydale High, and not only did Angelus’ senses tell him that the slayer wasn’t here, but her two closest pals, Willow and Xander, were all alone in the darkened school hallway, like two stray lambs waiting for a wolf to happen by. And wouldn’t you know it? He’d just gotten his fangs back. Some nights it was just great to be undead.
“Willow. Xander.” He schooled his voice to sound like that of his sniveling, souled counterpart.
“Angel. Thank God you’re okay.”
Angelus almost bit through his tongue stifling the laughter that bubbled up at Willow’s unbelievable naivete. Imagine. Thanking God on behalf of a vampire. Sure, it was probably just a figure of speech, but still. . .
“Did you see Buffy?”
“Yeah. What’s up with the lights?” Those two crazy kids obviously had no idea he was back to his old self again; still, he figured he’d best forestall any suspicions about the source of the darkness he himself had created. Clumsy though his question was, and he almost winced the second the words left his mouth, they didn’t seem the least bit wary of him. Xander was an idiot, of course, and probably had a hard time even *spelling* the word ‘demon,’ but Willow was brilliant, at least in terms of book learning and computers. You’d have thought she’d be more careful, what with him being a *vampire* and all. Soulboy must have done more damage to his demonic credibility than he’d ever believed possible. Too bad he couldn’t torture that damn soul until he begged for death. Guess being back in charge would have to do by way of revenge.
“I don’t know. Listen, I think I have an idea.”
And once again Angelus had to fight to keep from dissolving in laughter. Doughnut-boy had an idea? What could that possibly be? A new way to make himself the laughingstock of Sunnydale? The idea of Xander even thinking at all was almost impossibly hilarious. With a source of amusement like this around, why the hell was the damn soul so depressed all the time? You’d think the court jester over there could have inspired a *bit* of mirth in the King of Brood. The soul was well and truly a worthless pussy.
“Forget about that now. I’ve got something to show you.” Yeah, a *real* vampire, Angelus thought to himself, and your own death.
“Show us?”
There was that sweet, innocent voice again. Willow.
Angelus pondered for a moment. While the idea of tearing Xander’s throat out and leaving his dismembered corpse for Buffy to find had a certain winsome charm, perhaps that would be the wrong approach here. There might be a better way of celebrating his return.
“Xander, go get the others.”
“Okay.” The gullible moron loped off to the library, leaving Angelus alone with his prey, the girl who would help make his first night back after a hellishly long time in captivity to a gypsy curse a memorable one.
“And Willow, c’mere.”
“What is it, Angel?” She stepped into the shadows where he stood, so trusting. Watching her walk guilelessly into his trap was more erotically satisfying than anything that had happened with the Slayer. How Soulboy had gotten his rocks off with all that kissy-kissy, lovey-dovey crap was a mystery to Angelus. *This*? Innocence offering itself to be corrupted and devoured? Now *that* was what got a *demon* off.
“It’s amazing.”
He struck before she had a chance to figure out her mistake, grabbing her and muffling her scream with a hand over her mouth. His other hand had a more pleasant time of it, getting a feel for the surprisingly alluring attributes the shy young thing kept carefully hidden. Well, Angel had gotten some tonight, it was only fair that Angelus should get some, too. With that thought, he sank his fangs into Willow’s throat, taking just enough blood to render her insensible. Now it was time to head out before the cavalry returned and found that the fair hacker and the friendly vampire were nowhere to be seen. Wonder how long it would take them to figure out that the Slayer’s puppy had slipped his leash?
Angel wanted to sob; to beg Willow’s forgiveness; to find a stake, hand it to her, and let her take her revenge. But he knew that would be self-serving, an escape for him and of no use to her. Right now she needed him to get her out of this place and back to her family and friends. His senses told him that his childer and minions had fled - though he wasn’t sure they would stay away - making Willow safe from the rest of his clan for the time being, but she was obviously weak after her long ordeal and would never be able to make it home on her own.
He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Willow? Willow, it’s me, Angel.”
She looked up at him and Angel’s heart sank. Her eyes were almost blank. There wasn’t even the fear he would have expected to see considering the fact that, soul or no, he wore the face of her captor. She looked up at him curiously, cocked her head to one side, and then. . .then she did something that Angel never expected. She smiled.
“What’s the matter, Willow darlin’? You’re not smiling. Aren’t you glad to see me?”
Angelus smirked at the prisoner cowering beneath his gaze. Her fear was aphrodisiacal and he considered postponing the evening’s ‘entertainment’ so he could spend some time demonstrating just what he enjoyed most about her, just why she was still alive. But he steeled his resolve and reined in his desire. There would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, he had a gift for his lovely concubine waiting downstairs. After the evening’s amusement, she would assuredly be in a generous and receptive mood. He could hardly wait to teach a grateful and compliant Willow even more of what she needed to know to please him completely. She was already so close to being the perfect toy. Tonight would be just what he needed to smooth out all the rough edges and make her into exactly what he wanted.
“Here, put this on.” He handed Willow a thick satin robe, far too large for her and obviously masculine. Obviously his. He wanted their ‘intimacy’ to be unmistakable when they made their entrance.
“Come along.” He held out his hand, beckoning her to take it, and she did. She shook with her nervousness and Angelus felt himself grow hard. Oh well. At least there was an outlet for his frustration waiting downstairs in the dining room.
Arm in arm, they entered the grand and well-appointed room where Spike, Drusilla, and a few ranking minions were waiting. . . along with a very special guest. Angelus crowed inwardly as Willow gasped in surprise and horror when she saw the girl, bound and gagged, standing almost on tiptoe as she hung from chains hooked to the ceiling.
“So nice of you to join us this evening, Cordelia. Let me introduce you to everyone.” Angelus made a sweeping motion with his hand towards all the occupants of the room, then gestured to each in turn. “Spike you may have met before. Drusilla.” He indicated the lovely vampiress in full game face who curtsied prettily from where she stood behind Spike’s chair. “My staff,” he made a desultory gesture towards the minions, who bowed their heads respectfully. “And of course you’ve known my darling Willow for many years now.”
It was time for the fun to begin.
“Willow, my dear,” Angelus said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it in an extravagant manner, “Would you say that you and Cordelia are friends?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cordelia’s desperate expression as she silently pleaded with Willow to say whatever would spare her life. Foolish girl. He’d had Willow for several weeks now. Weeks in which he had taught the girl obedience with ruthless efficiency. His pet knew better than to lie to him. She would hate herself even as she spoke, but she would tell him the truth.
“No.”
Her voice was soft. So soft that no one but Angelus could hear it. Not good enough. He put his hand under her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.
“What was that, sweetheart?”
“No,” she said, louder this time, though her voice shook and tears swam in her eyes. “No, Cordelia isn’t my friend.”
“I thought not.” His smile was insidious and his eyes belied the gentlemanly manner he affected. They sparkled with cruelty and mischief. Now the party would begin in earnest.
“This won’t do. As I’m sure you can see, Cordelia, Willow is very special to me. I cannot allow anyone who has hurt her or made her unhappy to get away with that. Certainly you can understand that, can’t you?”
He circled the terrified cheerleader calmly, almost lazily, his voice even, his manner continuing pleasant and genteel. It was a treat to watch confusion and fright twist and distort Cordelia’s features, obliterating their usual prettiness and making her look like an animal caught in a trap, desperate for escape. He wondered if she would chew her own hand off if need be. . . hmmm.
No, as entertaining as that might be, it was both too uncertain and too slow to play out for Angelus’ taste. He had something more showy and spectacular in mind for the spoiled brat’s role in the evening’s festivities, something with a bit more ‘audience participation’ as well. After all, the scent of Willow’s fear had left him hard and wanting. The least Cordelia Chase could do to repay his hospitality was ease the ache of waiting for his pet’s favours.
Angel’s knees almost buckled at the memory of that night. The night he’d succeeded in breaking Willow, forcing her to watch as he and his childer had raped and tortured the cheerleader while he demanded that Willow tell him of every wrong Cordelia had committed against her, every cruel word, every painful slight, using them as his ‘justification’ for the unspeakable atrocities he visited on the girl. And visiting a burden of guilt on Willow that was beyond her capacity to bear.
He looked down at his demon’s victim once more, steeling himself for the blank stare and vacant smile that adorned her lovely face. The inquisitiveness and energy that had once been so much a part of her that it seemed impossible to eradicate them were gone. The wheels he’d been accustomed to see turning behind her eyes were still. And it was all his fault. He may not have been in control, but Angelus had used his friendship with Willow and the knowledge that he had gained of her to turn this bright, lively, innocent girl into a shell, a shadow, a blasphemous mockery of herself, an even more cruelly twisted version of the person she once was than Drusilla.
Angel knelt beside Willow and took her in his arms, unable to stop the tears from falling as he clung to the unresisting girl. Somehow, he would make this right. What he had done, he must also be capable of undoing. Angel wouldn’t rest until he had repaired the damage he had caused. Willow had to be made whole again. She had to be.