velvetwhip (velvetwhip) wrote in red_magic, @ 2007-06-19 10:57:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | fic, velvetwhip, willow/angel |
Fic: Escape Me Never (Willow/Angel) 2/10 FRAO/NC-17
Here is Chapter Two of Escape Me Never. I hope you enjoy it and (if you have already seen it on LJ) don't mind the repost.
Gabrielle
Title: Escape Me Never (Chapter Two)
Author: Gabrielle
Pairing: Willow/Angel
Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (for references to rape and explicit sex)
Summary: An uneasy truce is forged.
This was written for the whichwillow 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 whichwillow, 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: This fic is dedicated, in its entirety, to purplefeen and lilbreck. They know why.
Chapter Two
Dawn was breaking and the mansion was eerily quiet. The angry voices trying to keep low had gone silent and Angel could pick up the sound of three softly snoring humans; they had fallen into a fitful sleep after staying awake all night arguing over what to do about Willow and waiting fearfully to see if Angel’s childer or minions returned. One of his erstwhile houseguests was still awake, though. Buffy.
“What did you do to her?”
She walked up beside him as he stood gazing at Willow, who was sleeping peacefully in the bed she had once shared with Angelus, her sweet face so untroubled in repose.
Angel glanced over at Buffy. “Everything, Buffy. Everything you can imagine.”
Buffy flinched and looked away, both from her slumbering friend and from Angel. He wondered what she was thinking. She didn’t seem angry the way he had expected; she seemed hurt, and that was a puzzle. But it wasn’t one he was going to think about now. He was more worried about Willow. About what would become of her when the others awoke. He knew they were sure she’d be better off with them; knew Jenny had offered to keep her at her house ‘til she was well enough that her parents could be given the news that their missing daughter had miraculously turned up alive and safe; knew Giles and Xander and Buffy were in favour of anything that took Willow out of the hands of the vampire whose demon had killed Cordelia and kept Willow captive.
But they didn’t understand, didn’t realize, were too blinded by their own anger and guilt and hatred to see that Willow needed Angel. Even after witnessing Willow’s panic and terror when they tried to coax her out of the bedroom, even after seeing the way she clung to Angel and shrank from them, they were hellbent on taking her away. It had taken Willow’s screams as she held fast to the bedpost while Giles tried to pry her hands loose to make them even consider the idea of staying at the mansion for the night and trying to sort things out in the morning. He only hoped he could make them see reason.
Willow stirred and made a fretful noise. Buffy had left the room and it was all Angel could do to keep from crawling into bed beside Willow, his need to hold her and comfort her was overwhelming. The knowledge that being caught in bed with her would surely result in his being staked was the one thing strong enough to keep him away. It had only been Jenny Calendar’s certainty that the soul restoration had worked, after all, which had kept him from being dusted already. As much as Willow might need him near her now, he would be no good to her as ash. So he kept his distance, hoping she could at least sense his presence, that she knew he hadn’t abandoned her.
He knew she was aware that he had changed, that he had his soul now. Why that hadn’t shattered the twisted bond Angelus had created with her he wasn’t sure, but it hadn’t. On either side. As much as he tried to deny it, he felt for her, felt things that he tried to ascribe to the lingering influence of his demon, but he felt them all the same. Still, as much as he knew he should leave the room and shun temptation, he stayed. Keeping watch over Willow. And remembering.
“They won’t be coming for you, my sweet.”
Angelus whispered into Willow’s ear as he stroked the soft flesh of her cheek, an obscene pretense of tenderness that did more to break his little toy than all the tools in his torture chamber, and didn’t he know it. He ran his eyes lasciviously down her nude body, supine beside him
“You’re mine, sweet Willow. And your friends all know that. They know where you spend your days and what you do for me. Why do you think they haven’t come here and tried to rescue you? They know what you are, who you belong to, and they hate you for it.” Angelus went on, his voice as soothing as a lover’s, belying the cruelty of his words.
“Do you think Xander could ever forgive you for being a vampire’s whore? For opening your mouth and your legs for me? For screaming so beautifully when I make you come? Do you think Giles could ever look at you without wondering about all the things I’ve taught you? Without that dark side of him wanting to see for himself just what I find so attractive about you? Do you think Buffy could ever forgive you for being chosen over her? That she could ever stop hating you for pleasing me more than she ever pleased Angel? Don’t delude yourself, little one. They’ve abandoned you. I’m all you have now. You belong to me. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll be happy.”
Angelus moved over Willow’s body again. Even though he’d had her just a short while ago, he was definitely ‘up’ for another go ‘round. He ran a fang lightly across her breast, enjoying the moan he elicited and the moisture he could smell pooling between Willow’s thighs. Her body was so conditioned to his desires now, so responsive to the pain he enjoyed inflicting. It was glorious to have a bed partner who enjoyed what he enjoyed, who was so well trained to cater to his needs. Sure, it hadn’t always been easy, but the time and effort had been well spent. Willow was ready whenever he desired her and her body responded how he wanted it to respond to whatever he wanted to do to her.
Of course, she had a bit of a ways to go before she was everything she could be. There was still the matter of her mental and emotional resistance to her fate, to the fact that she was his and her reason for existence was to serve him in whatever way he wished, but he’d conquer that. He’d known she was the most intellectual toy he’d ever chosen and that her mind would be a challenge to his skill and determination. But after all, he thought as he slid into her tight, wet cunt and relished the feeling of her heat surrounding his cock, he did so dearly love a challenge.
Angel shook off the memory, not wanting to dwell on the pleasure he’d experienced with Willow, and his thoughts went, instead, to the four people in his living room. They’d burst into his mansion last night acting like brave warriors ready to do battle. Where the hell had that fire been before? Weeks ago, when it might have done some good. When they might have rescued Willow before she was completely broken.
Buffy had been leading the charge, playing the role of avenger, but why hadn’t she led the charge while Angel was still a soulless demon? He started to wonder about his “great love.” She was The Slayer. Her mission was supposed to come before her personal safety. Sure, she had managed to survive this long as a Slayer on an active hellmouth, but what did that mean? How could that be an accomplishment if it came at the cost of the lives she was supposed to save, the people she was supposed to protect? He wondered if the brave, selfless girl he had fallen in love with had even existed. Wouldn’t that girl have done anything to rescue a friend who had risked her life alongside her so many times?
No matter where his thoughts led him, the result was anguish.
She stayed perfectly still as he sketched. Angelus enjoyed his ability to make this girl, who had always been so fidgety and energetic, stay motionless, though he enjoyed even more the ways he could make her move. It was all about power and control and damn if it didn’t feel *good*.
His practiced hand drew the lines and contours before him, changing the pose and scenery, of course. He remembered the way she’d looked hanging from chains in her schoolgirl clothes and transformed it into the image of her nude body in the same position. Then he added the marks of the lash and the branding iron he’d never actually used on her. Oh sure, he’d *wanted* to, damn badly in fact. It had taken a restraint he almost could not believe he was capable of to keep from marking that beautiful skin, to keep from making Willow scream her agony to the empty heavens. As badly as he longed to torture his captive, however, he’d realized that fear was so much worse than almost any torture. And it was the fear of what he *might* do that would make her obedient. The first step in turning Willow Rosenberg into the ideal human pet.
He’d left her hanging in the very chains he was portraying her in for a whole night and day after taking her prisoner, letting her fear build into something grotesque and terrifying as she listened to him torturing and killing the surrogate he’d had the minions bring home for him to play with instead in an adjoining room. Then he simply let Willow down, the warning implicit as he escorted her to his chambers. She had not made him regret his self-discipline. So acquiescent. So deferential. Her tear-filled eyes cast down as she obeyed his every politely-worded command.
“Willow, please undress.”
“Willow, please turn around slowly and let me look at you.”
“Willow, please come here to me and kneel.”
Just the memories of that first time nearly distracted him from his task. For a shy little virgin who had never even been kissed, she’d proved herself a natural on her knees. All that babbling must have been very good exercise; it certainly seemed to have readied her mouth for a far more pleasant use than conversation.
There. The sketch was complete. Now he could indulge in a brief taste of his pet’s special talents before heading out to bestow his latest work on those who certainly must be wondering what had been going on in Willow’s life since she’d been taken from their midst. Of course, it wasn’t exactly an accurate rendition of what he’d done to their friend, but he was an artist and had to be allowed creative license, didn’t he?
“Willow, my dear, come and thank me for allowing you the honour of being my model.”
There was still some stubbornness about his pet, some refusal to accept her place, as evidenced by the shine of tears swimming in her eyes and the angry blush that pinked her skin, but he pushed his annoyance aside. She looked so lovely as her mouth moved up and down on his cock; it was just too difficult to stay upset with her. At least right now.
Noise from downstairs roused Angel from his thoughts. Voices were starting to rise and Angel could tell that all of his “guests” were awake once more. He just hoped they didn’t come up here and disturb Willow; she’d been through so much. She needed some peace.
She was still sleeping; Angel was glad of that. Slumber undisturbed by Angelus’ incessant sexual demands was something she hadn’t had since before she’d been taken captive. He hoped her dreams didn’t take her back to her place beside his demon, but he knew that was likely a vain, foolish fancy. He doubted her subconscious was any less bound up in his alter ego than her waking mind was. If there was one thing Angelus was, it was entirely thorough. When he did something, he went all the way. Breaking Willow was not a task he’d heedlessly or carelessly leave unfinished. No, Angel was heartbreakingly certain that as she slept, Willow was as lost in her memories of Angelus as Angel had been only a few moments ago. Still, any sleep, even a sleep filled with dreams of his demon, was better for her than another confrontation with her self-styled rescuers.
The conversation the others were having was growing heated. The pieces of it that Angel picked up alarmed him. It was time to go down there and make them all see reason, to make them see past their hatred of him and do what was best for Willow. To make them realize that the only one capable of healing the damage to their friend was the souled version of the one who had caused it. Willow needed to stay with Angel if there was any hope for her to ever be Willow again.
He turned and left the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. As he walked down the stairs, he could hear Xander.
“Why are we even talking about this? I say we stake Deadboy like we should have done a long time ago. Have you forgotten what that bastard did to Cordelia? Willow will be better off when he’s dust. We all will.”
“You’re so caught up in your need for revenge that Willow doesn’t matter to you at all, does she, Xander?” Angel spoke from the shadows, surprising everyone. “I know that you hate me. You have every right to hate me. But staking me won’t help Willow. You saw her last night. Like it or not, she needs me. Without me, she’s never going to be the same.”
He looked into the faces before him and saw stone. They didn’t understand. They thought he was just trying to save his own skin. Trust them to think that he was just like them.
He pushed down the bitterness in his thoughts lest it bleed into his words. The last thing he needed was to antagonize the ones who fancied themselves Willow’s best friends. Though he’d fight them tooth and nail if need be to keep Willow with him so he could take care of her, he’d prefer to have them see sense.
“Angelus made himself the center of Willow’s world, broke her down and made her completely dependant on him. That isn’t going to change overnight. She knows my soul has been restored, but I’m also the closest thing there is to Angelus and right now she needs that to feel safe. She needs to be weaned off her dependance and to be helped to regain her sense of self and who she is gradually, and by someone she trusts. Right now, that’s me.”
He almost pleaded with them with his eyes, begging them to see the sincerity in his words. Buffy had her hand on Xander’s shoulder, trying to calm him, but she wouldn’t meet Angel’s gaze. Jenny had her arms around Rupert, her face buried in his chest; he could smell her tears and knew she was crying. Perhaps that meant that he’d gotten through to her. He could only hope.
The Watcher spoke, shattering the uncomfortable silence that followed Angel’s speech. “Why should we trust you, vampire?”
Angel struggled to find the right words. “I know you only see me as a killer right now, Rupert, but I have my soul again. You gave it back to me yourselves. I am sorrier than you will ever know for what Angelus did. I wish I could undo all of it, but I can’t bring Cordelia back. I can do everything in my power to help Willow, to bring her back from the emotional hell that Angelus left her in. I’m the only one who has any chance of making her whole again and there isn’t anything I won’t do to make that happen.”
He looked around. They were listening. Good. He tried another, more practical tack.
“I’m also the only one of you who can be with her all day and all night. None of the rest of you can. Buffy and Xander have school, and you, Rupert, have to work. So does Jenny. You live with your families or surrounded by neighbors, all of whom would certainly notice that Willow was staying with you. What would happen if word got back to Willow’s parents? If they found her like this, they’d stick her in a mental hospital. Where she’d be labeled delusional and sedated into catatonia if she tried to tell the truth about what happened to her. Is that what you want for her? After everything she’s been through, does she deserve to spend the rest of her life in a hell even worse than where she already is?”
He’d gotten through to them. At least to Giles and Jenny. Xander still gave off nothing but anger and hate. Buffy looked . . . Angel didn’t want to put any stock in his assessment of what he saw in Buffy’s eyes. No matter what he’d come to realize about her in the past few hours, he wasn’t ready to believe she was quite that selfish.
“Your childer, your minions.”
“They’re gone, Rupert. They won’t be a problem.” Angel’s voice held a certainty that brooked no disagreement and Giles seemed to accept his assertion, at least for now.
“We will be here all the time, make no mistake. And if anything further happens to that poor girl, I will make you beg for death before I ram a stake through your miserable, undead heart.”
Angel didn’t attempt to argue or defend himself. “Agreed.”
“Come along, Buffy, Xander. I’ll make your excuses to the school and your parents. I think we all need to go home for a short while. Get some sleep. We’ll be no good to Willow like this.”
Both Buffy and Xander looked ready to protest, but a look from Giles silenced them both.
“I am no more happy with this arrangement than you are, but I am satisfied that Willow will be safe for the time being. We’ll come back tonight. Perhaps she’ll be in the frame of mind to see us then.”
Maybe their fatigue was too overwhelming for them to put up much of a fight. At any rate, Buffy and Xander held their peace, contenting themselves with glaring at Angel while they gathered their things.
Giles took Jenny’s hand and squeezed it, obviously drawing strength from his lover. He shepherded the two teens outside before following them with Jenny. He looked back once, his icy stare promising everything his words had and more, before he made his way wearily homeward.
When the sound of their footsteps had faded away, Angel went back upstairs. Willow was his charge now, and she needed him.
Tbc...