heathervamped

Survival Skills 

Chapter 1 
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8

Willow stared at the vampire in the cage as though she’d never seen him before in her life. Of course, she had seen him many times, just never quite like this. As it was, he was the only thing in the room she recognized. Just the moment before, she’d been doing a spell with the new girl, Anya, in a deserted classroom and now she was, well, wherever here was. For some reason, Angel was there too. She had no idea why he might be in a cage, but it was a relief to see a familiar face. She would get him out of the cage, and they would leave together and find their friends. That was the plan anyway.

She approached the cage, but instead of coming forward to greet her, Angel shrank back into the corner and glared at her. She stopped, hesitating, and that was when she began to notice that some things were wrong. Angel wasn’t wearing a shirt, and while at first she was afraid that would make her blush, now that she was closer she could see that his pale chest was marred with angry red welts and faded pink scars. The variety of wounds suggested that someone had been torturing him for quite some time, but that was ridiculous. If someone had been hurting Angel, she would know. He would have asked for their help and certainly Buffy wouldn’t have allowed it to continue. He was also wearing a thin black leather collar with a silver loop on the front, which didn’t seem like something he would’ve chosen for himself. And why was he trying to get away from her? One way to find out.

“Angel? What’s wrong? Who put you in this cage?” She asked. She wrapped her hands around the bars and peered in at him. He stared at her, puzzlement on his face, and then he laughed.

“That’s a clever new game,” he said. The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. “Who bought you the innocent little-girl clothes?” He asked.

Willow looked down to find herself dressed exactly the way she was when she left her house that morning in her usual school clothes. She then looked back at Angel more confused than ever. “What are you talking about? You don’t like my outfit?” She asked, more hurt than made sense given the situation. She felt tears prick at her eyes. She was in a strange place that she didn’t know how she had gotten to and the one person she thought might be able to help her was making fun of her. It was not a good day.

Angel smelled the tears rise from the girl outside his cage. He heard her heart rate speed up as she tried to stifle her sobs. Heart rate? “Willow?” She looked up at him and he tentatively approached her, still not entirely convinced that the whole thing wasn’t an elaborate trick. “You’re alive? How can that be?”

Willow blinked, tears drying rapidly, her distress replaced by an interest in this new mystery. “You… you thought I was dead?”

Angel nodded. “You’ve been a vampire for two years. At least, you were. You’ve had me locked up down here for months.” He paused, studying her face, and watching her eyes grow ever wider with each word. “You don’t remember any of this, do you?”

Willow shook her head. “I… I think something’s wrong with this place. Where are we anyway?”

Angel shrugged. “This is the Master’s lair. Or the dungeon of it anyway. We’re in the basement of the Bronze,” he added, when she still looked confused.

“The Master?” Willow frowned and bit her lip. “He’s dead. Really dead, not just undead. Buffy killed him two years ago.”

“The slayer?” Angel asked. “No, she’s never been to Sunnydale.”

Willow looked at him like he’d said the moon was purple.  “Never been here?  She lives here!  I mean, hello?  You help her fight demons, remember?”

Angel shook his head.  “I’ve never even met her.  Buffy lives in Cleveland and guards the hellmouth there.”

She threw up her hands and sighed in frustration.  “That doesn’t even make sense!  The hellmouth is right here in Sunnydale!  Why wouldn’t the slayer be here?”

Angel walked away from her and turned to sit against the wall at the back of his cage.  Speaking to this strange human Willow wasn’t getting him anywhere and he was tired.  “Look, if the slayer was here and I was her sidekick, do you really think I’d be locked up down here?  Hell, if you were such good friends with her, you’d probably still be – “

He stopped and looked up suddenly to meet her widening eyes.  “Alive,” they finished together.

“Well, that explains why your world is a better place,” he said, his voice heavy with regret.

“My world.” Willow sighed. “Yeah, this has to be somewhere that’s not where I’m from. Stupid spell! I can’t believe she talked me into this! Made me feel all important ‘cause I could do magic.”

She paced in front of his cage and then stopped as she finally seemed to register something Angel had said a few moments ago. “*I* locked you up down here?” He affirmed it. “Oh god! I’m sorry Angel! I’ll get you out, where’s the key?” He pointed at the wall behind her.

Willow turned and found the key hanging on a hook. She tried her best to ignore the variety of chains hanging next to them and swallowed a gasp after getting a glimpse of a nearby table arrayed with several lengths of whip and a small selection of very sharp-looking knives.

She turned back to the cage and fumbled to get the key in the lock, her hands a bit shaky from the images conjured up by the toys behind her. She couldn’t help wondering what her vampire self had used them for. She had nearly succeeded in unlocking the door when a voice from the stairway made her jump and drop the key. “Looks like I’m just in time. I wouldn’t want to miss the best show in town.”

“Xander!” Willow exclaimed, recognizing her lifelong friend. It did not take any more conversation for her joy to turn to horror. Just the sight of his black leather outfit and unearthly pale skin was enough to tell her what he was.

He came over to her, moving with a grace he had not possessed in life. He ran a cool hand over her cheek. “You must be tired tonight. I’ve never been able to sneak up on you like that before.” He stepped back so that he wasn’t too close to the cage. “Go on, play with your puppy. It’ll perk you up.”

Willow stood there for a moment, shocked that she wasn’t dead yet after being so close to a vampire. It hadn’t taken her brain more than a few seconds to stop thinking of the body of her friend as Xander and to start thinking of him as a threat to her continued existence. When his words sank in, she realized that he assumed that she was a vampire too. What was more, he expected her to act like her vampire self and torture Angel. That she wasn’t sure she could do, even to save her own life.

Standing there looking helpless was no longer an option. Xander lazed against the wall just a few feet away, lovingly fingering a set of chains, waiting for her to get going. She bent over to pick up the key and heard Xander chuckle. “Damn, Willow. What the hell are you wearing? Are those tights?”

Her first instinct was to be pissed. That was the second knock on her outfit in the last few minutes. Then an idea surfaced, and she turned back to Xander, twirling the key on her index finger in what she hoped was a beguiling gesture. She gave up on that part of the plan when she narrowly missed whacking herself in the nose with it. Instead she walked up to Xander and smiled at him, desperately willing her legs not to shake. “Yeah, they’re tights. I was hunting high school girls. Had to blend in so they didn’t run before I was ready to play. Think you could go get me something more comfortable to change into?” She asked.

The grin that broke out on Xander’s face made her instantly regret her request. ‘Couldn’t have just asked him to go get you an extra whip, could you?’ She berated herself. It was too late. Xander was already halfway up the stairs, the spring in his step suggesting he had the perfect change of clothes picked out for her.

As soon as he was out of sight, Willow hurried back to the cage and unlocked the door. Throwing it open, she gestured wildly for Angel to come out and follow her. “Come on! We’ve got to get out of here while we can!”

Angel laughed at her, but made no move to get up or to leave the cage. “Do you have any idea what’s at the top of those stairs? The Master and dozens of his followers stand between us and the outside. You can’t just drag me up there with you. Hell, you can’t go up there yourself. The Master would know in a second that you’re not his childe. You won’t fool him like you did Xander.”

“I’m *his* childe!” Willow couldn’t help the “blech” sound that escaped her. Then she remembered the more pressing matters. “What are we supposed to do? Xander’s gonna be back any minute and he’ll expect - ,” she shook her hands at him, not wanting to say what he’d expect. “Things! You know, he’s thinks I’ll hurt you. I can’t do that!”

Angel raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her and then looked pointedly at his chest. “You sure about that?”

Willow gaped at him, shocked that he could think such things about her, until she remembered that this Angel had never known her as a human, as a good person. “No! I can’t! I’m not like that! In my world, you and I are friends. I can’t hurt you, not for anything.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “That’s all very touching, but it’s really not my problem.”

“How can you say that? It’s *you* I’m supposed to hurt!”

He shrugged. “Won’t be much different than any other night. Frankly, if you don’t hurt me and you get yourself found out as a human, well, that just leaves me not hurt. I can’t see where I’d be any worse off. It’s your call.”

Willow was nearly in tears again. Xander would return any moment with God only knew what for her to wear, and wear it she would unless she wanted to die. When she had sent him away, she planned to be long gone by the time he got back. Now, that was impossible.

Finally taking a small bit of pity on the frantic human, Angel said, “Look, Willow. If it helps, you don’t always hurt me when you come in here. If you really don’t want to hurt me, then you don’t have to.”

She took a step into the cage, hopeful. “No? What then?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Man, you are just a sweet little girl, aren’t you? I thought it was an act. Oh well, not for long. Not in this place.” She was still looking at him expectantly. “Sex, Willow. Sometimes you don’t hurt me, we just have sex.”

She gasped and stumbled away from him as if he had slapped her. “We… we….”

He laughed at her again. “Oh, come on, Willow! It’s not that bad. You’re pretty good, actually, when you’re not trying to rip my dick off.” The shock on her face just made him laugh harder. “You better get it together by the time Xander comes back or even that idiot is going to smell the human all over you.”

Willow felt the heat creep into her face. He was laughing at her, a lot. Laughing at her weakness, at her fear. Her eyes ran over the selection of whips on the table and she suddenly felt a glimmer of the darkness buried deep within her that would allow her to use one of them on someone should her fate ever leave her walking the earth without a soul. Or, should it leave her in a room with two vampires, one of which she had to hurt to keep the other from killing her. She turned back to Angel, her _expression set in a blank gaze. “Which would you prefer?” She asked in a voice that she might have used to inquire whether his preference was for red or white wine.

Angel lowered his head and flicked his eyes from side to side, before settling on Willow. “You’re asking me?” He raised an eyebrow to emphasize the question. “Seriously, you couldn’t figure this out?” Willow just kept looking at him, so he raised his head and stared right back at her. “You’re asking a man if he’d rather be cut up and whipped or fucked by a hot chick?”

Willow blinked when she realized that she was the hot chick in question, but otherwise kept her face composed. “Fine. I believe you’ve made your choice and so have I. I’m gonna get out of here alive, even if it kills you.”

For once, Angel didn’t laugh.


Part Two

Willow had pulled herself together not a moment too soon. She was still standing just outside the cage, studying Angel and reviewing in her head all the nasty things she had ever read about vampire sex to make her performance as believable as possible, when Xander returned bearing a small armload of clothes.

To Xander, the scene looked perfectly natural. Willow stood, gazing at Angel like a predator, and Angel cowered away from her in the back of the cage, his trepidation pronounced in every clenched muscle. Xander tossed his bundle to Willow and she made an awkward grab for it, catching everything but one knee-high boot. He grinned at her. "It’s your favorite outfit," he said, looking expectant, like he would usually get a reward for remembering.

"Um, thanks," Willow said, distracted by the sudden realization that there wasn’t exactly a bathroom, or even a closet, nearby where she could change. Her eyes darted about the room, trying to be inconspicuous since she didn’t want Xander to realize she had never been there before. Nothing presented itself as a suitable place to change clothes. The room was just a large rectangle of damp cement walls with a dirty cement floor and an unfinished ceiling where pipes zigzagged back and forth, leading up to the surface where unknown dangers lay in wait.

Her choices were not just limited, they were nonexistent. She bent to pick up the dropped boot and took a few steps away from the two vampires. She kept her back to them and sorted through the clothes in her hands. It wasn’t much. Everything was made of buttery-soft red leather. It was the color of fresh blood, which made Willow almost want to roll her eyes. Aside from the boots she had a micro miniskirt, barely more than just a band of fabric to wrap around her waist, and a matching bra. No shirt or underpants materialized no matter how hard she looked.

Firmly pretending that there were not two creatures of the male persuasion just a few feet behind her, she kicked off her sensible shoes and reached under her skirt for the top of the tights, so that her butt was still draped by the hem of the skirt. The movement was natural and unconscious, the product of hundreds of gym classes that threatened every young woman’s modesty by forcing them to disrobe in front of their peers, many of whom where inevitably better endowed. Techniques were refined and perfected until an entire change of clothes could be made without revealing so much as a flash of undergarment.

She cast the tights aside, and reached for the miniskirt, intending to slip it on underneath her own much longer skirt. Two things occurred to her then. First, if she kept her underwear on, not only might Xander suspect something was up, but they would only get in the way when she had sex with Angel. She suppressed a shudder at how casually she had admitted to herself that that was what she intended to do. Second, if she did her gym class routine, and she had just then realized what she was doing, that might send off alarms too. She doubted that her vampire self had any modesty at all. Her favorite outfit was proof enough of that. She would probably strip down completely before putting on new clothes.

Willow found a compromise that she hoped would keep her alive, and allow her to retain a tiny bit of dignity. ‘Until I go over there and ride my best friend’s boyfriend in front of my other best friend’s corpse,’ she reminded herself. Yes, well, until then she was still Willow and could not simply take off all her clothes. She unzipped her skirt and lowered it and her underwear slowly so that her sweater fell right to the bottom of her ass. She bit back a shriek of frustration when she realized she would have to bend over to pick up the miniskirt, making the sweater’s meager protection useless. Taking a silent deep breath, she just did it. There was no response from behind her for the little show. She couldn’t help taking a curious glance back. They were still there, still watching her, but didn’t look impressed. She had a moment where disappointment seemed to want to surface, but she quickly suppressed it, telling herself that she was crazy to want them to like seeing her naked. That could only lead to further badness. Besides, she remembered, they had probably seen this show numerous times.

Somewhat relieved, and still a tiny bit disappointed in spite of herself that she wasn’t the big attraction she had been afraid she would be, she pulled on the miniskirt and stood up. It didn’t even fully cover her in the back. She could feel the bottom of the skirt just brushing the spot where her ass met her thighs, but not hiding it. She pulled on the boots, surprised for a second when they fit perfectly, before she remembered that they were her boots. Working more quickly to get the whole situation over with, she peeled off her sweater and practical white cotton bra. She maneuvered into the leather one without much difficulty. It was surprisingly comfortable.

For a split second she wished she could see herself in a mirror, then realized that if her awkward dressing hadn’t blown her cover, a reflection would do the job in a heartbeat. She turned back to face the vampires, taking a tentative step forward in the unfamiliar high-heeled boots and willing herself not to fall on her face. Angel and Xander each ran their eyes over her mostly exposed body, but it was a reflexive gesture that came to any man in the same room as a woman, and gave no indication of whether they liked what they saw.

Though each moment in the game she played for her life seemed a small eternity, Willow still reached the cage and her dead best friend long before she would have liked, which was never. The only sound in the room was the light thud of her heels on the cement as she approached. Each step made her wince internally, knowing that a real vampire would have been able to walk without making a sound, no matter what shoes it was wearing. Thankfully, Xander was either oblivious to her clumsy human ways, or thought she was making the sound for effect because he did nothing but step out of her way so that she had full access to the open cage door.

She paused just outside, wondering if she would be expected to take an instrument of pain from the table with her, even if she only planned on having sex with the vampire. ‘You mean raping him, don’t you? He didn’t ask for this.’ The thought shocked her. He had chosen sex over torture, but that didn’t mean consent. If he had been given a third choice of her just leaving him alone altogether, would he have chosen that? It seemed likely. Unfortunately, there was no third option. If Willow left him alone, she would die. Maybe Xander wouldn’t kill her himself, but he would turn her over to the Master, and she didn’t like her chances of getting out of that with her humanity intact. Would Angel prefer that she die to spare him one of what had to be dozens of such treatments? She steeled herself and strode purposefully toward him, balancing each step with all the care she could give and not look like she was trying. What happened next wasn’t up to Angel, and while that didn’t make her feel good, it didn’t make her feel as bad as dying would.

He stood up as she approached, but kept his eyes cast downward, playing the good puppy. Was it a sign that he valued her life above his dignity that he didn’t give her away? It would be so easy for him to overpower her, or to just rip her heart out and show Xander that it still beat. Or was he only going along because he didn’t want some other, more sadistic, vampire to take over his punishments if Willow was found unfit for the job? Maybe he still had hope that she would let him out and they could find a way to escape.

She tried to push all that out of her mind and concentrate on the vampire in front of her. Angel’s motivations did not matter at the moment. He was going along with her ruse and not getting her killed. That would have to be enough. She trailed her nails down his chest, trying not to avoid the wounds that covered him, as her instincts dictated she should. Angel made a low sound that Willow could not interpret. Did her other self ever give pleasure, or only pain? She wished she’d had a few more minutes alone with Angel to find out what was expected of her, but now all she could do was her best.

Angel had made no move to touch her in return, so she put her other hand to work on his chest as well. Her fingers traced scars that would be gone in a week’s time and fresher wounds that would look like the scars did now in just a couple of days. Her touch lightened when she moved over the more serious injuries, but Angel hissed as if she had dug in her nails. More acting, she supposed. When she looked up into his face, his expression was unreadable, but not the blank, far-off look she had expected. Acting like the tortured victim took some concentration. He could not simply shut off and let her have her way with him if he was to help her give a believable show.

She let her hands reach the waistband of his jeans. Her back was to Xander so he couldn’t see her bite her lip when her fingers touched the button, wondering if she could really bring herself to unfasten it. Not a moment too soon it occurred to her that taking Angel’s pants off might be beneath her. She took a small step back from him. "Get out of those filthy jeans," she ordered, in what she hoped was a commanding tone. She fought a desperate urge to look over her shoulder when she heard Xander’s derisive laugh. Was he laughing at her and her pathetic attempt to be dominating? Or was he just laughing at Angel’s plight? Either way, looking at him wasn’t going to do anything but make her more insecure, so Willow concentrated on Angel as he unzipped the jeans and slid them down over his thighs and kicked them off.

It was just as well that she was pretending to be a vampire, because Willow stopped breathing when she realized that Angel wasn’t wearing underwear. Of course, neither was she. Was that a thing with all vampires? Did the Angel in her world wear underwear? She blinked and forced herself to take a quiet breath. That was a question for another day. If she lived to see another day.

In the meantime she had to deal with the fact that in spite of the circumstances, Angel seemed happy to see her. Very happy. Did he enjoy his time with vamp Willow? It didn’t seem that way when he spoke of it. Maybe he liked it, but he didn’t like that he liked it? Or maybe it wasn’t her vampire self at all. Maybe he liked the smell of her fear, her horror and turmoil at what she had to do. Maybe it was a thrill for him to cause that kind of reaction instead of having it inflicted on him for a change. Whatever the case, it solved one of her problems. She hadn’t been looking forward to figuring out how to get the vampire ready for their, um, playtime.

"Lie down," she said, slowly getting into her role. Any further foreplay was out of the question. It wasn’t like Angel was going to take her in his arms and start kissing and caressing her. She was his jailor, his tormentor, and he wasn’t going to make this any easier for her. She silently thanked a God that she was certain had abandoned her that she’d recently started having sex with Oz. None of her friends knew about it, but their awkward times together were about to save her life. Nothing gets a vampire’s attention like virgin blood.

She took a step up to Angel’s prone form and swung one leg over him so that she straddled his middle. All she had to do was lower herself down and… oh god! She was really going to have to do this. No one was coming to her rescue. Being this nervous and tense, it would hurt. She needed to relax, think some sexy thoughts. Yeah right. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to imagine Oz’s hands on her, his mouth, his… well, all of him. It started to work. She could feel herself loosening up and anticipating a body touching hers. When she opened her eyes, the look on Angel’s face helped her along more than any Oz-centered fantasies. He wanted her. He was hard at the thought of being inside her. It was unmistakable, no matter how much her humility tried to insist that it couldn’t be.

Was it really so difficult to believe? Here she was, a scared human girl, about to fuck him, with no thought of torturing him afterwards. Certainly it wasn’t the sort of happy situation he encountered every day. Willow sank to her knees, hovered over him for a moment, and then gave him what she hoped he wanted. The leather skirt hiked up to her waist when she bent over him, but she ignored it. She was screwing a vampire, modesty was pointless.

Angel was larger than Oz and this was a new position for her. She could feel Angel inside her in a way she never experienced before. It wasn’t as terrible as she feared. She moved slowly on top of him, each motion feeling more intense and making her more aroused. Whatever she had expected when she realized she would have to do this, even the smallest bit of enjoyment was last on the list.

Angel made soft noises beneath her, and she knew he wasn’t just acting for her. She could feel him struggling to remain still and let her keep control, as was expected of him. If they had been alone, she thought he might just grab her and flip them over and start pounding into her until he exploded. That gave her new doubts. Was she supposed to let him have an orgasm? How on earth was she supposed to know when they were done if he didn’t have one? If his grip on her bare thighs was any indication, he wasn’t too far off. Well, if Xander seemed upset when it happened, she would just have to punish her puppy for being a bad dog.

The cement floor started chafing her knees every time she rocked down on Angel, taking away from the pleasure she had found in the strange situation. Then there was Xander, off to her right, hanging on the door of the cage and watching her with his mouth slightly open. If Angel wanted to get this over with, it would be ok with her. She reached out and twisted his nipples, exaggerating the motion to make it appear she was pulling as hard as she could. Angel grunted and squeezed his eyes shut. Willow couldn’t tell if he was wincing against the pain, or concentrating on not finishing yet. She hoped the latter, she hadn’t really pinched him that hard. Studying his nude body from her position above him, she wondered what else her vampire self might do to him while she used him.

Abruptly, she sat up straighter, turning her face to the back wall of the cage so Xander couldn’t see the horror in her expression. All along Angel’s neck and across one shoulder were tiny, faded puncture marks. She was supposed to bite him, she was sure. How the hell was she going to fake that? She could bite him for real, but it sure wouldn’t look like a vampire bite and she couldn’t be certain she would draw blood in his inhumanly strong flesh.

There wasn’t much time. If Angel let himself go and she still hadn’t bit him, there would be uncomfortable explaining to do if she didn’t want to beat him senseless. Hoping it would be enough to fool Xander, Willow let her hair fall across the side of her face so he couldn’t see that she did not change into a demon, and then buried her face in Angel’s neck, biting deeply into her own lip. She made some vague slurping noises, pressed her bloody lip against his skin, faked an orgasm, then sat up, licking her own blood from her mouth. Angel jerked under her, pressing his hips up into hers, not having to fake anything.

Willow turned to see Xander rubbing himself through his leather pants. Uh oh. She disengaged from Angel and stood quickly, realizing that her problems were just beginning.

"My turn," he growled. He stalked towards her, moving with an unnatural swiftness. She didn’t have time to take more than one step back before he was on her, grabbing her shoulders, licking her mouth, sucking the last bit of blood off her lips. The momentum of his stride propelled them back, until she connected with the wall. Xander seemed to like her there. His hands slid down her sides as he dropped to his knees. Thankfully, he had not pressed his body against hers, or he surely would have felt her heart pounding in her chest.

It was a small comfort when he shoved the mockery of a skirt up over her waist and pushed her thighs apart so he could stick his head between them. In her panic, Willow grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled, trying to get him away from her. This only encouraged him. He made a deep rumbling noise in his chest and pressed up into her hands, though the motion did not succeed in getting his face away from her thighs as she had hoped.

His cool tongue trailed a damp path straight up to her folds and slipped between them. Willow gasped, and if Xander had bothered to look up, he might have recognized the shock on her face for what it was. Instead, he was emboldened by the quiet sounds and slid a hand up the inside of her leg to join his mouth. He lapped at her and caressed her with a gentleness she found surprising from an evil demon, and then thrust two fingers into her with no warning, moaning when Willow’s hands convulsed and she dug her nails into his head. Giving her one more flick with his tongue, he pulled away and sat back on his heels, looking up at her while he sucked Angel’s release from his fingers.

"Mmm, so warm and wet. Damn, Willow you must’ve snacked on a whole sorority tonight."

Barely over the initial trauma of being assaulted by her best friend, Willow did her best to grin evilly. "It was a real feast," she agreed, hoping Xander wouldn’t notice her shaking voice. He didn’t.

"Lucky for your puppy. I’m thinking he liked it a little too much. That’s the problem with dogs. You beat them and beat them and they still come back for more." He stood and walked over to where Angel still lay on his back. Xander prodded him with the toe of his boot. "Come on puppy, roll over and I’ll give you a treat."

Willow saw that Angel had taken on the far-away, blank expression that she had expected when she first entered the cage. Without a word, he rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up on his hands and knees. It was everything Willow could do not to yell for Xander to stop when he unzipped his pants and knelt behind him. Instead, she did the only thing she could. Like a coward, she turned her head and looked away before she could see Angel impaled on Xander’s throbbing cock. Trying desperately to ignore what was happening only a few feet away, she pulled the meager fabric of her skirt back down into place, but didn’t succeed in banishing the feeling of being naked and dirty.

Somehow this was worse than what she had done to Angel. He hadn’t asked her to do those things to him, but it had made him come. Didn’t that mean he liked it? Listening to his cries of pain, while Xander tore him up inside, Willow hated herself. Maybe what she did hadn’t hurt him physically, but it still wasn’t right. She was no better than the demon Xander had become. Trying to save her own life and maybe save Angel some pain in the bargain, she had just made things worse. She still didn’t know how to get out of this world alive, and now thanks to her too-believable performance, Xander had decided to join the "Let’s Bang Angel" club.

A strangled scream came from Angel, and Willow made herself look at what Xander was doing to him. His fangs were buried in Angel’s shoulder, and one hand was clenched around his balls, squeezing much harder than a lover would do to give pleasure. He fed for what seemed a dangerously long time, then finally stopped when Angel’s eyes started to droop shut. Resuming his human face, he slid his dripping cock out of Angel, wiped it on the prone ass cheek, and tucked it back in his pants. As soon as he stood up and stepped away, Angel collapsed on his face, unconscious.

Xander looked down for a moment, studying his conquest. Then he turned his attention to Willow. "You know, a nap isn’t a bad idea. It’s nearly sunrise, anyway. Come on, let’s check in with the Master and get some shut-eye." He held out a hand to Willow.

"Um, you go on ahead. I’m just gonna…" she had no idea what he might believe she would do.

Xander just laughed. "Come on, Will. He’s not going to be any more fun until at least tomorrow night."

Willow tried not to shudder at either her nickname being spoken by the demon, or that he thought she wanted to stay to torment Angel some more. She forced a laugh. "Yeah, you’re right. Let’s, um, do what you said then." She took his hand and as he turned and led her away to her certain death, she looked back at Angel’s battered form and mouthed, "I’m sorry."

Xander pulled her along up the stairs and down a dark hallway, away from the front of the building. He opened a creaky wooden door on the left, and Willow tensed, expecting to see a room full of demons bowing to the Master. Instead, there was just a very normal looking bedroom with no windows. A closet along one wall stood partially open, and from what she could see of the contents, Willow surmised that her current outfit had come from within.

Xander shut the door behind them and just stood there, gazing at her with a small, strange smile. Willow clearly remembered his suggestion that they go see the Master before bed and could hardly believe her luck at escaping that fate. She wasn’t about to remind him either, so she climbed up on the bed and made a show of yawning and stretching. Maybe if he was as tired as she was, he would fall asleep quickly and she could escape.

Low laughter dashed that particular fantasy. She turned her head slowly to look at Xander, somehow knowing even before he spoke that the game was up. "Oh come on, Will. Vampire here. Did you really think any of it was fooling me? Do you think I can’t hear your pulse pounding in my ears, begging me to silence it." He began stalking towards her and she pushed herself further up the bed until she was stopped by the headboard, trapped.

"Why then? Why pretend? And... and aren’t you a little curious about how I’m suddenly alive again?"

"Aren’t you curious about how I’m suddenly alive again?" he mocked, throwing her words back at her in a falsely high-pitched voice. "Please." He rolled his eyes. "I know you’re not her. We were mates. I was right there when she vanished in front of my face. Can’t say I was sorry to see her go. The things she did to me…" He got a faraway look in his eyes and Willow couldn’t tell if he was remembering something painful or pleasant. Maybe it really was all the same to vampires. "Two minions were right there, saw the whole thing, or I’d be dust myself by now. Most of them knew I only stuck around because the Master would have me hunted and killed if I took off and hurt his favorite childe. If he’d suspected I had anything to do with her disappearance… well, dusting wouldn’t be good enough for me."

For the first time, it occurred to Willow to wonder just where her vampire double had gone. If she was here, then could vamp Willow be in her Sunnydale? Suddenly, her own safety slipped a notch on her list of concerns. A vampire that looked just like the slayer’s best friend was a danger to everyone she knew and loved.

Xander didn’t give her much time to dwell on their plight. He sat on the bed, uncomfortably close to her and continued, "When I heard you and Angel talking in the basement about how you, a fresh, new, living Willow, had come from another world, I couldn’t resist a little revenge. I remember what you were like before the Master found us. All sweetness and innocence. Making you pretend to be a vampire, well, it doesn’t get much more anti-Willow than that now does it?"

He grinned and shook his head. "You should have seen your face when I gave you that outfit. Oh, and then when I said we were going to see the Master!" Xander was all but slapping his knee at his own cleverness. "I was just gonna mess with you until you gave yourself away and then kill you, but you surprised me. I still can’t believe you actually went through with fucking Angel." He reached out and ran a hand down one of her arms and breathed deeply when she shuddered, inhaling her fear.

"Still, that wasn’t half as good as what you let me do to you. I guess you have no way of knowing that the real you would never have let me do that. As good as it was watching you ride the puppy, and licking you afterwards, it wasn’t until I was fucking him myself that you did the thing that saved your life. You wouldn’t watch me hurt him and that, my sweet Willow, is what gave me the best idea yet." He paused for effect. "I’m going to keep you."

"Alive?" She asked, not sure if she was supposed to be hoping he would say yes or no.

"For now," he agreed. Until I get tired of playing with you, breaking you, making you watch me break Angel, maybe making you help me. When you’re nothing more than an empty, useless shell, then I’ll turn you, and you’ll be submissive to me, the way it was meant to be."

He leaned away from her, letting his words sink in, then hopped off the bed. Willow had a moment to gaze longingly at the door and wonder if she could make it out before Xander caught her, but he was back by her side almost as soon as the thought entered her head with a set of manacles in one hand. He shackled her wrists to the headboard, a process she did not bother resisting, then took off his clothes and crawled back onto the bed next to her.

"Don’t take it personally, Will. I really would like to play some more now, but it’s been a long night and I’m beat." He let the promise of a reprieve relax her before adding, "Just a little bedtime snack and then I’m off to sleep."

It barely registered in her brain that she was the snack he was referring to before he was on top of her, his fangs in her neck, taking her blood in noisy mouthfuls. No one heard her screams, or if they did, they didn’t care, because no one came to save her. And when Xander pulled away, she kept screaming, unaware that the danger had passed for the moment. It wasn’t until he hit her hard enough to knock her unconscious that she stopped screaming and left her living nightmare for the land of dreams.

 
Part Three

Willow awoke in the dark. She was not alone in the bed; she could tell that by the way the mattress dipped down to her left under the weight of another body. She smiled. Oz had spent the night again. She had fallen asleep with her arms up over her head and they were tingling now that she was conscious. She tried to pull them down and roll over to go back to sleep, and found that she couldn’t. The numbness in her arms made her unable to identify the feel of the metal around each wrist, but she could hear the sounds of the chain connecting her to the headboard well enough as it rattled with her movements. She froze, not daring to draw any further attention to herself. The ugly reality of where she was and who shared her bed had finally hit her.

More aware of herself, she noticed that her feet were sweating, since she had slept in the leather boots. The rest of her was cold, barely covered at all. There was a throbbing pain in the right side of her neck and a dull ache on the left side of her face. Little souvenirs of the night before.

Willow had no idea if darkness had reclaimed this vampire-ruled Sunnydale. It didn’t seem likely. If she was a vampire that had nothing to hide, nothing to fear on the streets of a terrified town, she wouldn’t waste a single moment of darkness passed out in a lair. So maybe she had time. Maybe, before Xander woke up, she could figure a way out of this mess. Possibly running into the Master or one of his minions didn’t even register as a concern. Why worry about that when she still had no idea how to get out of the room?

Getting out of the room, and therefore away from Xander, had to be her first priority. Addressing even more immediate needs, she realized that to get out of the room she would have to get out of her shackles. They were tight, that much she remembered from when they were first clamped on. There would be no Houdini moves to wiggle out. Not if she didn’t want to break her thumbs. She needed real magic; illusion just wasn’t going to cut it this time.

She reached out with her mind until she could pinpoint the locking mechanism, and how it would have to be turned to release her. Now the trick was making it move in that direction. She focused her entire being into the tiny space in the lock, wrapping her consciousness around that little piece of metal that held her captive. She muttered a word of power under her breath, making it no more than a sleepy sigh, and she was free. The lock popped open with a metallic click that sounded loud enough to wake the truly dead in the small, quiet room, but Xander never so much as twitched.

Inching her hands out from under the chains, Willow slowly rolled off the bed. When she was crouched on the floor, she waited, dizziness rolling over her, threatening to make her pass out or throw up. She wondered if Xander had managed to give her a concussion with one blow. When the feeling passed, she stood up, keeping one hand on the edge of the bed for guidance. She still couldn’t see anything in the room, but she knew that she had been on the far side of the bed, away from the door. If she could find the opposite wall, it would just be a matter of trial and error to find the doorknob.

She shuffled ahead with baby steps, afraid to step on something unseen, or make the floorboards creak and wake Xander. When she had come around to the right side of the bed, she tentatively let go and reached out for where she vaguely remembered the door to be. Two things happened at the same time. The light in the room came on, blinding her, and a cold, solid hand clamped down on her arm. Willow shrieked in fright, then made herself stop when she saw Xander standing in front of the door. With one finger still on the light switch beside it, his other hand holding her wrist, and his face set in a hard smile, he scared her far more than if he had looked angry.

“Going somewhere, Wills?” He asked, his voice a caricature of friendly concern.

Willow didn’t know what to say or where to look. That hellish grin on the face of her onetime friend made her want to start screaming again, and she didn’t want another dose of Xander’s cure for that. He was also still naked, and very aroused by the situation, so looking anywhere below his neck also made her want to scream. Not looking at him at all seemed like a bad idea too, since she couldn’t predict how he would take it if he thought she was ignoring him. She settled for staring at the very top of his head.

He clamped down hard enough to make her afraid her wrist might snap in his grip. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

She forced herself to look him in the eye. “Bathroom?” She ventured.

He stared at her for a moment, and then began to laugh. Just a low chuckle at first, but soon, he dissolved in fits of giggles. “Oh, this is great!” he told her, shaking his head. “You’re going to last so much longer than I thought. I think I could stretch this out for weeks!”

Willow, who had allowed herself to relax a bit when he had taken her little lie so well, tensed up again. She realized she wouldn’t have any chance of getting out of this world alive if she didn’t stop underestimating Xander. He was evil, ruthless, and nothing like the friend she had known her whole life. His senses were 10 times more advanced than those of any natural predator and he would use that to his every advantage. The sooner she learned all that, the better.

Xander spoke to her while he pulled her back towards the bed. “I don’t know what I have to do to convince you that you’re better off in here with me than outside this room. With me you get to live for awhile, and then I give you eternal life. Pretty generous, huh? You walk out that door and you’ll just be dinner for the first minion who comes along. Looking like my mate won’t give you any clout with those idiots. They hear a beating heart and they’re reduced to slobbering dogs.” He paused when she had the backs of her legs pressed against the mattress, and looked her up and down.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be so eager to run out there naked. Yeah,” he nodded, agreeing with himself. “She was always the prude when we were alive. The Master cured her of that nice and quick, but I bet you’re just like she was.” He grabbed the front of her leather bra and ripped it off. Willow winced, but did not cry out when the straps bit into her shoulders before snapping in two. She moved her arms to cover her chest, for all the good it did her. Xander’s hands were already at her waist, tearing off the skimpy skirt. So much for her favorite outfit. He shoved her backwards so that she tumbled down on the bed. When she drew up her legs, he seized her feet and pulled off the boots. As soon as he let go, she scooted across to the far side of the bed, trying to put as much distance between herself and Xander as possible, and curled into a ball.

Xander seemed to find all this very amusing. “You just don’t know when to give up, do you? I like that. If only you knew how good you smell, so scared and angry.” He climbed up on the bed and leaned over her huddled form, making a big show of inhaling her scent. He poked out his tongue and ran it up along the edge of her ear. “Mmm… you taste good too. But, hey, I already knew that, right?”

Far from forgetting how Xander knew what she tasted like, the image of his head between her legs had been flashing through her mind from the moment he caught her trying to leave. She cursed herself for being utterly unable to think of a way out of her predicament. Just laying there would leave Xander free to do whatever he wanted to her. And she was pretty sure she knew what he wanted to do. On the other hand, trying to fight him wasn’t much use and would just get her more hurt. Her magic wasn’t strong enough to hurt him either. He had not been careless to leave any pencils around that she could levitate through his heart.

He yanked her into a sitting position and grabbed her hair, forcing her head back so he could kiss her. It wasn’t a nice kiss. It bruised deliberately and left her feeling reviled instead of desired. It was unacceptable that she let this happen and yet her mind was blank and offered her no alternative. A tiny voice, barely a whisper in the depths of her soul suggested that she deserved whatever he did to her for what she had done, and had allowed to be done, to Angel.

Xander forced his knee between her legs and pushed her back down on the bed. He rubbed his cock against her thigh and whispered in her ear all the filthy things he wanted to do to her. Some things he wanted them to do alone, some with Angel watching or joining in. She didn’t want to look at him or what he was doing to her, but closing her eyes only brought the images he was painting to life behind her eyelids. Her eyes flew open when he asked her to choose one of the acts he described. She stared at him, uncomprehending. “What’s it gonna be, Willow? I know you heard everything I said.”

So it came to this again. Her welfare versus Angel’s. She could let Xander have his way with her right then and there and spare Angel, or she could drag him into it again and maybe things wouldn’t be as bad for her. At least, not this time. It was a way out she couldn’t have anticipated, lying helpless under her tormentor. But at what cost? No longer did the choice come down to just Angel’s body or hers. Now it was a question of integrity and whether or not she had any left. Sure, Angel had allowed her to use his body to save her life, but would he have suffered Xander’s treatment of him to spare her the same? She wasn’t sure. Nor was she sure it mattered what Angel would do. It didn’t make it right for her to condemn him to further humiliation and pain.

In the moments of indecision, the first glimmer of a plan took shape in her mind. If she told him she wanted to include Angel in their activities, it would mean leaving the room. Xander would have to give her clothes for that, well hopefully, but more importantly, she would be outside the ever shrinking walls of the bedroom and that alone gave her a better chance of escaping than she could have hoped for. Tentatively, she said, “Um, I think we should have Angel join us.”

Xander looked surprised, and then grinned. “Heh, I’m starting to see her in you. Already getting a taste for him, aren’t you?” Torn between being horrified at why Xander thought she wanted Angel involved, and relieved that he hadn’t guessed the real reason, Willow said nothing.

He puzzled her by flopping down on his back beside her on the bed, instead of getting up to leave. She looked at him, wondering what to do next, but afraid to ask.

“What? You can’t expect me to go out there like this?” Xander gestured to his throbbing hard-on. “You’ll have to fix it before we can leave.”

Willow gaped at him, horrified and utterly confounded. This was not part of the plan at all. “But, I thought…” she began, unsure of how to tell him she had hoped he would save it for when they got to Angel.

Xander sighed. “Vampire here, remember? I can have it ready to go again by the time we get downstairs. Now get your pretty little lips over here and wrap them around my cock, or I’m going to shove it in your ass and fuck you till I break your face on the headboard.”

She tried to tell herself that it could be worse, that it was no big deal. That being forced to touch the body of the boy she had loved for so long by the demon that destroyed him was not really the end of the world. It just felt like it. Yet, once again, the alternative was no better. So, she reached out a trembling hand, and paused just before she could close her fist around him. Xander growled at her, grabbed her hand and slapped it against his cock, forcing her fingers to bend and grip him. “There,” he said. “Is it really so bad? You think I didn’t know how much you wanted me before we were turned? How, even now, like this, you still want me just a little, in spite of what I am.”

With his hand over hers, he drew her fist up and down so that she stroked the length of him, while tears formed in her eyes. She hated it that he was right. Hated it that what she was doing at that very moment had been the subject of so many of her best dreams that there was some part of her that could ignore all the rational reasons why she should feel nothing but anguish at what was happening and instead feel even the smallest bit of lust. She wanted to hate Xander for that, but she could only hate herself. That greedy, selfish part of her had already caused its share of pain in her life, nearly taking Oz’s love from her. Now it was back to haunt her once more, to bring her shame in knowing that she was finally getting what she had wanted, in some form, and she could pretend she didn’t have to feel guilty about it because it was forced on her.

Xander grew impatient with her soft touch and let go of her hand to grab her around the neck and draw her head down, saying without words that he was through waiting. Now that Willow’s choices didn’t include her welfare, versus someone else’s, the decision was easier. She could either perform the humiliating act, and not be hurt, or be hurt quite a bit during an even more humiliating act. Easy choice, really. So in the interest of survival, she embraced the part of herself that she loathed, the part that could pretend that this was the Xander she had spent her puberty yearning for, and having inappropriate dreams about. That was the part of her that could make this what she had wanted so badly in those dreams. Just a pleasantly wicked little dream about Xander, that’s all it was. She held the illusion in front of her like a shield, but it was soon shattered as she lowered her head. In her dreams, Xander was never so cold.


Part Four

The new outfit wasn’t much better than the last one. A black silk halter top, cut so low that it almost showed her belly button, complimented a black leather skirt only slightly longer than the red one. Thigh-high boots reached right up to the hem. It was as covered as she’d been since she first pulled off her tights in the basement, and yet she still felt self-conscious about leaving the room dressed so scantily.

When she was finished dressing, Xander took one last item out of the closet and came towards her, holding it out in front of him, meaning to put it on her. She flinched, but did not dare back away from him. She saw that it was a collar very similar to the one Angel was wearing. They must buy them in bulk, she thought. Xander wore essentially the same outfit as before; black leather pants with a white tee-shirt.

She let him put the collar on without protesting, and then panicked when he drew a length of fine silver chain from his pocket. He intended to walk her to the basement on a leash. Not only was that beyond humiliating, it also severely compromised her chances of getting away. Resigned, she tilted her chin up to let him attach the leash to the small hook on the collar. She could not come up with a good argument for him not to put the leash on. How delusional had she been to think he would let her get away from him even without it?

If she was honest with herself, she would admit that she hadn’t given any thought to how she would get away after they left the room. Her only thoughts had been how to postpone the inevitable moment when he would do some sort of permanent damage to her. She could feel that moment creeping closer with every breath and it was all she could do not to give in to the panic rising inside her.

When the leash was secured, Xander lifted his fingers from her neck and traced them along her lips, an uncharacteristically tender gesture. Willow held herself rigid, willing her body to remain impassive, hoping to avoid provoking any negative reaction from him. A strange look came over his face, intense and rather unpleasant. With no warning, he forced his fingers inside her mouth, pushing them in and out like he wanted to reach down her throat and feel her tonsils. He made a show of closing his eyes and groaning like he was imagining something other than his fingers fucking her mouth. Not that he had to stretch his imagination all that much. Her jaw was still sore from sucking him off just minutes earlier. Xander didn’t intend to let her forget too soon what it felt like to have him invading her body.

He pressed up against her, pushing her into the wall next to the closet and began to rub his groin into her stomach as he worked his fingers in her mouth. She had to make a conscious effort not to gag on them. Xander had torn out a small patch of her hair when she had gagged on his cock. She was a fast learner. In his other hand, he kept a firm grip on the leash, giving it a tug when he wanted her to suck harder. His face was buried in her neck, though he didn’t bite her. Just the smell of her fear and disgust was enough to satisfy him for the moment.

After a few minutes, Willow started to wonder if Xander would have to change his pants before they could leave the room, or worse, if he would decide that he needed a better way to release the tension building in him. His fingers were cool and clammy, like sucking on a dead fish. In some ways it was worse than what he had forced her to do before. At least then, most of her body was not in contact with his. Now, with him pressed the whole length of her, she could feel how alien and hard he was. Not like a soft, living boy at all. Nothing like her best friend. A small mercy, perhaps, that the one humiliating her could not possibly be mistaken for her first love.

Abruptly, he yanked his hand from her mouth, dropped the leash, and unfastened his pants. Before she could react, he had taken up the leash again with one hand, and had the other wrapped around his own cock. He pumped it furiously while dragging her forward to meet his lips in a sloppy kiss. She tried to pull away when she felt dampness on her shirt, but he held her fast. Finally, he let out enough slack on the leash to let her take a step back from him. Her shirt was soaked with his release and he looked annoyed with her.

“You must think you’re hot shit, huh? Making me lose control like that.” He zipped his pants and wiped his hands. “Don’t let it go to your head, I’d do the same thing to any little slut with a mouth like yours. You and your moist lips and warm tongue. You don’t even know what you’re doing and I want you to do it again. Well, you’ll get a chance.” Willow couldn’t help the desperation that showed on her face. Xander saw it, smiled, and reminded her, “First, I think we have some unfinished business downstairs.”

Willow only looked at him trying not to cry. She knew a no-win situation when she was in one. If Xander liked the way her mouth felt, he’d want her to keep using it. If he didn’t, well, he’d find something else to use instead. She didn’t think it was fair that they go bother Angel now that he’d done so much to her before they’d ever left the room. It was pointless to mention that. Xander had not yet begun to play, that much was obvious. If Willow had ever wondered if vampires had any hobbies besides tearing people’s necks out, she wondered no longer.

One thing she was sure of was that she did not want to wear the wet shirt for one more minute. For once, Xander seemed willing to oblige her wishes, without her even having to voice them. He untied the halter strings with one hand and yanked the shirt from her body. When she looked towards the closet to see what he would pick for her next, he only chuckled and shook his head. “I think you’ve ruined enough clothes for now. Maybe walking around like this for awhile will convince you to be more careful next time.” Giving her no time to protest, he pulled her along behind him to the door, flung it open, and dragged her out into the hall. She counted herself lucky that he hadn’t made her crawl on all fours.

Being hauled along behind Xander allowed her to get a quick look around the hall without him noticing. It didn’t do her much good. There were doors on both sides, but none of them stood out as an exit, and none promised her any safety, even if she could have somehow broken the leash, and run faster than Xander to get to one of them. In her own world, these doors would conceal rooms for bands to get ready and for supplies for the Bronze. As the Master’s lair, they probably just concealed more vampires. The one thing that Xander had told her that she did not doubt was that any other vampire in the place would eat her without a second glance. So, once again lacking in options, Willow followed Xander without protest.

A door just ahead of them opened and a pair of minions emerged, arguing about whose turn it was to please the Master. Willow couldn’t help wrinkling her nose when she realized how they intended to please the Master. After what she had seen in the last 24 hours, it did not even raise her eyebrow that one of the minions was male. Both of them leered at her as she and Xander brushed past them, but he growled and they looked away. Willow saw her chest turn lightly pink and could feel her face burning from the brief attention.

She turned her head to watch where they would go, hoping to see which door led out before she reached the basement steps. The two minions opened the door at the very end of the hall and Willow thought she glimpsed the backstage area of the Bronze. So that door led into the club. It appeared that she would have to go through the club, where the Master reigned, to get to the outside. No wonder Angel had laughed when she suggested they escape that way.

Stumbling down the stairs to Angel’s prison, Willow had a moment to wonder if he would be conscious again. Her own situation hadn’t given her much time to consider his welfare since the night before. Would he be pleased to see that she was just as much a captive as him now? After what she had allowed to happen to him, it wouldn’t surprise her.

Angel was indeed conscious, if not looking all that well. No surprise registered on his face when he saw them come into the room, Xander leading Willow by the silver chain. Willow did register surprise at what else was in the cage with Angel. A youngish-looking boy, certainly no more than 12, lay dead at his feet, sprawled on his back with one arm flung over his face as if to ward off his fate. It explained Angel’s ability to stand up or move at all after what Xander had done to him, but left Willow with plenty of other questions.

Although any speech in Xander’s presence had yet to lead to a positive outcome for Willow, her curiosity got the better of her and she just had to ask. “Angel! You… you eat people?”

It was Xander that answered her, smirking in pleasure at her obvious horror. “He gets the Master’s leftovers. Scraps from the table for the puppy.” Xander laughed then at a memory Willow didn’t share. “You should’ve seen him for the first few months. He expected us to chase rats for him!” He shook his head. “We just kept giving him the half-dead kids. Eventually, the hunger won. It always does… eventually.” He looked at her like his own hunger might be winning against his desire to torment her for as long as possible.

Willow glanced back to Angel, unable to continue looking at Xander without shuddering. The view was no better. Seeing him standing over the dead boy brought back terrifying memories of Angelus and his bloody deeds in her Sunnydale. She couldn’t imagine his gentle, souled counterpart feeding from any human, much less a helpless child. Of course, she had never seen Angel tortured and starved. She remembered a book she had once read about a group of people stranded on a mountainside after a plane crash. They had eaten their dead to survive, something they would have said was an abominable sin only days earlier, when they had been safe and warm in their houses with refrigerators providing for their every gluttonous need. If this boy had been mostly drained by the Master, he probably would have died even without Angel’s assistance. Was what he was doing any worse than those people on the mountain? Did it matter? The need to survive had a way of making morals seem superfluous, like a luxury car with leather interior, something the starving had no use for. Something the imprisoned had no use for.

Willow gave silent thanks that she could not see the boy’s face. His youth was apparent in the size of his body and the smoothness of his skin. He was naked and had no hair on his legs or chest. His head was turned to the rear of the cage, and an angry red gash marred the delicate flesh of his exposed neck. That the open wound did not bleed was as sure a sign of his death as the stillness of his chest. Willow guessed his last breath had been within the hour. It hadn’t been dark all that long by her best estimate, based on when Xander had awoken, and the Master’s minions couldn’t have hunted for him before then. Unless they had supplies already in stock. She pushed the thought away, not willing to contemplate dark rooms full of scared boys and girls, just waiting to be the Master’s next meal. It was all too horrible. So horrible, that she almost forgot the horror of why she was standing topless in a room with two vampires in the first place.

She remembered quickly enough when Xander jerked her to him by the chain he still held. She stiffened as he raised his hands to her neck, but allowed herself to feel a tiny bit of relief when he stepped away again, having removed the collar and leash. “You’re gonna be a good girl and not run away, aren’t you?” Xander asked, placing the items on the table that held all the knives that had frightened Willow on her first trip to the basement. He didn’t wait for her to answer. “We made a deal and I expect you to hold up your end of it.” She knew he meant the deal for them to include Angel in their games instead of Xander taking out all his energy on Willow. She nodded when he looked at her. There was nothing to do but agree. The only way out was through the club, and that was no way out at all.

Satisfied, Xander walked away from her to push a button on the wall near the foot of the stairs. Willow was almost amused to see that there was an intercom there. Xander did not speak into it, but a few moments later, the door at the top of the stairs opened and two minions came down, looking expectantly at Xander. Neither looked at Willow. These two were under Xander’s control, unlike the ones they’d met in the hall. He jerked his head towards the cage and they went to it at once. When they had unlocked it and gone inside, one stood guard over Angel while the other dragged the body of the boy out by his wrists. Once he was outside the cage door, the other minion relocked the cage and helped his partner with the body by picking up the ankles. In this fashion they carried it back up the stairs and out of sight.

Willow turned away as they went past her, not willing to add the sight of the limp body to the growing collection of nightmares she was fast acquiring. Xander found this highly entertaining. “Aww, was your puppy bad? You wanna punish him?” When she didn’t take the bait, he turned to Angel. “I think you blew it, big boy. She was all hot for you, earlier. Couldn’t wait to come down here and get another piece of that pale ass. Now look what you did.” He had moved over to stand in front of the cage as he spoke. He gestured back to where Willow stood, trying not to weep for a stranger, a victim of circumstance if there ever was one. “She doesn’t look very happy with you.” He took a leisurely stroll back over to the knives and began picking them up, one at a time, holding them up to the florescent light overhead, letting it gleam off the steel blades. “Wonder what she’s gonna do to you?” He pondered.

Angel actually did look at Willow as Xander suggested. She could see his eyes travel up over the new boots, new skirt, her bare breasts, and come to rest on the side of her neck. She had almost forgotten the bite. It throbbed a little now that her attention was brought back to it. Pain couldn’t interfere with her thoughts or she wouldn’t be any better off than the boy. There had to be a way out of this mess and if there was, she needed her wits about her to find it.

Xander held up a knife for Willow’s inspection. It had a long curved blade with a forked tip. She couldn’t begin to think what her vampire self had done with it. “How about this one?” He suggested. She shook her head. Xander shrugged and put it down. The next one he selected had a double edged blade with a deadly looking tip. “This?” He asked. Again she shook her head. She simply couldn’t agree to cut Angel if there was any way at all to avoid it. It did not matter that he had killed the boy, she couldn’t hurt him. It was not her place to judge him, and even less her place to dole out punishment for his crimes. Also, making people bleed was icky.

Xander tried one more time. He held up a knife that looked to Willow for all the world like a paring knife that she would use to peel apples. “Maybe you want to start small?” He offered. She shook her head. He put the blade down with a little more force than necessary and turned to face her. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re chickening out on our deal. I don’t think I need to describe again all the ways that wouldn’t go well for you.”

“I won’t cut him,” she said, hoping her voice sounded as firm as she felt.

Xander came back over to where she stood her ground at the bottom of the stairs and stopped directly in front of her, crowding her personal space. “Is that so?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s so,” she retorted. “None of your… games that you told me about before had me cutting him. It was all, lick this, and… and suck that, or put this in there,” she stopped, unable to give any more details on Xander’s ideas. She knew that reminding him of any of it would probably end badly for her, but she was getting tired of being afraid.

Angel remained strategically silent while Willow and Xander stared at each other. Finally, Xander broke the silence. “You’re right. I didn’t say you had to cut him.” Willow didn’t bother feeling victorious. Xander’s admission could only mean that he’d thought of something worse. “And I didn’t say I wouldn’t,” he added.

“Come on, I’ll show you how it’s done. Next time, it’ll be your turn.” He grabbed her arm and shoved her forward to the cage door, unlocked it, and pushed her inside. He turned around just long enough to snatch up the paring knife and then joined her in the cage.

Willow’s mind raced, desperate to come up with a way to keep Xander from hurting Angel. He probably wouldn’t do any permanent damage with the small knife, nothing worse than had been done before anyway, but she still didn’t want to be a witness to it.

He noticed the stricken, desperate look on her face and rolled his eyes. “It’s either this, or I’ll kill him right now.” Willow blinked in surprise. Xander just smiled. “You thought I’d kill you, didn’t you? That’d be too easy. Besides, everyone likes their new pets better, it’s the way it goes. They’re not as much fun once they’re trained and broken in.” He gave Angel a disgusted look. “Sometimes when they get too old,” He flicked the blade of the knife across Angel’s bare upper arm, drawing a thin line of blood. Angel flinched but did not cry out. “They don’t even bark,” Xander concluded.

Xander bent his head enough to run his tongue along the fresh cut before it could drip. He straightened and smiled. “They’re still good for some things though,” he admitted. He stepped up to Willow and grabbed her around the waist with one arm, holding the knife away from them both with the other hand, and gave her a probing kiss, forcing his tongue into her mouth, sharing the taste of Angel’s blood. She tentatively returned the kiss, trying not to piss him off by pushing him away.

He pulled away and said, “Mmm, that’s right. You think you’re pretty good with that mouth. We’ll see about that.” He took another step back so he could address both her and Angel. “We’re gonna find out who’s better at their skill. You’ll get on your knees and suck his cock while I cut him. If you can get him off while I’m hurting him, you win, and I’ll use him for my entertainment for the rest of the night. If you can’t, I use you.”

Where had she gone wrong? She knew she wasn’t perfect, but at what point in her life had she committed the sin that made her deserve to be stuck in a contest of sexual deviancy with a vampire that looked like her best friend? Or any vampire at all, for that matter. Had it been the fluking? Was that really a big enough sin for her to be kneeling, topless in front some version of her best friend’s boyfriend about to do what she was going to do, just so he wouldn’t be dust and she wouldn’t be raped? Was it that she had slept with Oz? Did fornication really mean going to hell? Even if she had believed that, she never would have thought it would happen so soon. Hell was for after you died. Was she dead? Maybe she wasn’t just in another dimension. Maybe she had died trying to do the spell with Anya and this really was hell. It was a doubly depressing thought. That would mean that, not only was she already dead, but death would no longer be an option to escape this place.

Pessimism was not going to win her the contest, so she decided to work under the assumption that she was alive. And if she was alive, then she did want to win, as awful as it was. Refusing to play meant Angel was dust, and she couldn’t live with that. Winning meant he would be used, and as much as she didn’t want that, she wanted to be used herself just a little less. Selfish? Oh, yes. But also honest. She would not throw the contest to Xander. She did not want him to touch her ever again, and since there was no way to ensure that, she would settle for putting it off as long as possible.

“Does everyone understand the rules?” Xander asked. Willow and Angel both nodded mutely. Not that Xander could be expected to play by the rules. He had made them up and there was nothing to stop him from changing them as he saw fit. “Good. You better get started, Willow. If he passes out from blood loss before you finish, you lose.”

Xander stepped behind Angel and had made another cut before Willow could even get her hands on Angel’s zipper. He wore the filthy jeans again; they seemed to be the only clothes he was allowed. He managed to ignore Xander licking the nape of his neck long enough to help Willow pull the jeans off and she wondered if he wanted her to win or lose. Would seeing her raped bother him as much as taking her place as Xander’s toy?

Willow hesitated for a moment, kneeling in front of the vampire. Though it was her second time seeing him naked in as many days, this was different than the first time. She had fucked him only hours ago, and yet this seemed much more… up close and personal. With his genitals hanging in front of her face, she felt herself blushing slightly, which seemed ridiculous even to her, given the recent events.

He was partially hard already, the only explanation being that Xander was still lapping at the back of his neck. Willow firmly decided not to contemplate that any further and reached out to take him in her hands. Xander saw her as he stepped back to consider his next cut and admonished, “No hands. It’s your mouth that I’m interested in.”

She withdrew her hands and clasped them in her lap. Xander reached up and nicked the tender flesh behind Angel’s left ear. Willow had a front row seat for the immediate effect. Evidently, not all vampires got off on all types of pain. Angel had to lean over to the side to allow Xander to stretch up and lick the blood from behind his ear. Willow thought she saw Xander’s pattern. Make a cut, and then lick the blood until Angel’s naturally speedy healing process closed it up. Make a new cut, repeat as desired.

Willow waited until the sensations of Xander’s tongue began to overtake the pain of the cut, judging that Angel would be more receptive to her attentions then. When she decided that he was as ready as he was going to get, she leaned forward and tentatively brushed her lips across the tip of his cock. It twitched appreciatively. Encouraged, she scooted closer to him and ran her tongue along the top side to the base and back down to the head. Angel made a small, involuntary sound that made her even bolder. She tilted her head to the side to gather him in her mouth and began sucking in earnest, letting him slip part way out between her lips and then drawing him back in.

She could feel him swelling to his full size and was soon unable to slide her lips all the way down the length of him. She took him as far into her throat as she could manage, concentrating on keeping a steady rhythm with her movements, trying to emulate the motions of her hips during sex with her head, giving him additional stimulation by swirling her tongue around when she pulled back as far as she could without dropping him.

Angel straightened to stand fully upright when Xander finished with his ear, and for a brief moment he could fully devote his attentions to the warm mouth giving him pleasure. It didn’t last. He couldn’t see what Xander was doing behind him, but he didn’t need to see to know what had happened when a sharp pain bit him high up on the back of his thigh, just beneath the right side of his ass. The pain was sudden and the location unexpected. His body jerked involuntarily and he narrowly avoided kicking Willow in the chest and causing her to bite him. Just the thought of it, combined with the new pain, did much to counter the effects of Willow’s considerable talents.

When Xander began to lick the new cut, Angel’s erection faded faster than ever. He was too close to Angel’s most abused area. Too often had Xander sodomized him for there to be any pleasure in having any part of him anywhere near his ass. Unlike the cuts and licks on his neck or his ear, Angel couldn’t bring himself to pretend that this was someone else, some tender lover licking his flesh. The sense of brutal reality was too strong to fight, too strong to deny, and in spite of Willow’s best efforts, all sense of pleasure fled Angel’s body.

Willow could feel the change in Angel and let him slip from her mouth, confused as she watched his cock shrink even further as if it would crawl back inside his body. What had she done wrong? He almost seemed to be enjoying himself a minute ago. She could see Xander kneeling behind him and leaned over to see what he was doing, convinced he must’ve broken the rules and done something even more vicious to make sure she lost. But he hadn’t. He still only had the small knife and he wasn’t even using it at the moment.

Even more puzzled, she wondered if she should try again. It seemed like a losing battle, and it was not a battle she could afford to lose. Before she could make a move to go back to her task, Xander stood up, wiped his mouth and looked back and forth between her and Angel’s shriveled cock. “Looks like I win!” He announced with a genuinely happy grin. Why shouldn’t he be happy? Now he didn’t have to come up with any convoluted vampire logic to give him an excuse to have his way with her. Not that he really needed one. She couldn’t fight him, no matter how tough she might like to think she was.

Still, she had to try something. “Shouldn’t I get more time?” She pleaded. “He didn’t pass out yet.”

Xander laughed and it made her realize how cruel she had just sounded. She had all but asked him to keep torturing Angel. He made a show of licking the blood off the knife. Willow was a little bit impressed, in spite of herself, that he managed not to cut his tongue. “Do you really want more time?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“No,” she whispered.

“Angel, have a seat,” Xander said, shoving the other vampire away from him. Angel stumbled and landed on the floor, obediently sitting whether he liked it or not.

Willow remained kneeling on the floor, her eyes fixed on her hands in her lap while Xander circled her like a lazy vulture. She had failed and now she would suffer the consequences. She thought she might feel some relief that she wouldn’t have to watch Xander hurt Angel anymore, especially not the way he had the day before, but all she could feel was sorry for herself. She tried not to cry, sure that doing so would only add to Xander’s smug satisfaction. Why should she waste tears now? He hadn’t even touched her yet. She would have plenty to cry about soon enough.

Xander crouched behind her, put his hands on her shoulders, and leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “Why so sad, Willow? I’m not going to hurt you.” Then he snickered and spoke louder. “Oh, wait. Yes I am.” He grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her upright until she was balanced on her knees instead of sitting back on her heels. He pushed the skirt up over her ass and stroked her bare skin. Her tears flowed freely, no longer under her control. He let go of her hair and wrapped his arm around her so he could squeeze her breast and her ass at the same time.

His hand on her ass slipped lower, between her legs and he teased apart her dry opening with his fingers. His voice returned to a husky whisper. “Not too much fun to be had there. You already fucked the souled freak with that and you weren’t even a virgin then. A little used-up for my taste.” Willow bit her lip in effort to keep herself still. Any protestations could only make things worse. After all, there was still the knife. Xander’s fingers slid backwards as if he would remove them, but he stopped in a most alarming spot. “I think you still have something fresh and new to offer me, don’t you?” He began to probe her ass with his index finger, somewhat gently at first, and then with more determined thrusts. “Yeah, I bet I’m the first one in here, aren’t I?” When she didn’t answer, he pinched her nipple hard enough to make her cry out. “Aren’t I? Answer me, bitch.”

“Yes,” she said, and the word was a gasp in itself, the only verbal expression she allowed herself of the pain of his assault.

“Very good,” he purred, continuing his unwelcome exploration. “Oh, yeah, real good. So tight, so dry, I’m gonna make you bleed so much.”

To Willow’s astonishment, Angel spoke up from his seat on the floor. She had nearly forgotten he was in the room. “Figures you would go for that. You never did like real pussy. Why do you think your mate spent so much time down here? With me she got what she needed. I mean, yeah, she had to take it from me, but she got it the way she could never get it from you and your ass fetish. Hell, isn’t that why you spent so much time down here? I never fucked all the male vampires I sired put together as many times as you’ve done me since I’ve been down here. Me, not your childe, not your sire, and you can’t keep your cock off me.”

Xander was suddenly beside him, hauling him to his feet, throwing him against the bars of the cage, and snarling in his face. Willow, meanwhile, collapsed back onto her heels without Xander behind her to hold her up. “Is that an invitation?” Xander asked, shaking him by the arms. “You jealous that my attention wandered from your delectable flesh?”

Xander released him and took a step back, eyes narrowing, giving Angel a shrewd, appraising look. “No, I know what this is. You’re trying to distract me. Trying to play the hero, even now, and save the damsel in distress.” Angel didn’t bother denying it. “Well, it’s not gonna work. I’m going to have her and you’re going to sit there and watch.” He leaned up and gave Angel a quick kiss on the lips. “Then you’re next,” he promised and moved back over to Willow.

Bad to worse, she thought, tensing as Xander knelt behind her again. She could hear him unzipping his pants, feel him raising her skirt and pushing her forward onto her hands and knees so he could have easier access to her body. The floor was cold and gritty, but she stared at it anyway, wishing it would open up and swallow her. Not only was he determined to do this to her, now she would have to watch him do it to Angel again as well. She felt his fingers again, spreading her open, making room for his cock. She braced herself for the anticipated pain, and just when she thought things could not possibly get any worse, she heard a voice that proved her wrong.

“Oooh, someone’s been a very bad boy,” purred an amused female vampire standing at the door of the cage. It took Willow a moment to recognize her, after all, it was a face she hadn’t seen in two years, but she made a habit of not forgetting those who tried to kill her or her friends.

“Darla,” Xander said, trying to hide the surprise in his voice. He stood quickly, zipping his pants, but leaving Willow exposed as if she weren’t even there. Not about to pass up the opportunity, she readjusted her clothes to hide as much skin as possible and remained sitting on the floor to see what would happen. She didn’t fool herself into thinking it would be something good. “What are you doing down here?” Xander asked.

Her eyes flicked to Willow and back as if she needed confirmation of something. “We’ve been hearing interesting tales. One minion claimed your mate had returned. That was obviously a lie since a favored childe like Willow would have been to see the Master immediately if it were true. Another declared you had a human pet that was her twin.” She spared another glance at Willow. “A pity, we staked him for blasphemy against you and he was telling the truth.”

She swung open the cage door and strode inside, stopping just in front of Willow. She smiled and held out her hand. Not believing for a moment that the vampire had good intentions, Willow took the hand anyway and allowed herself to be helped to her feet. Darla brought Willow’s hand to her nose and inhaled sharply. “My, it really is you, alive once more. A miracle, or at least, a first. How did it happen, my dear?”

Xander answered for her. “It’s not her. This one’s from some other world. A real fucked-up world too, where the Master’s dead and the slayer lives here. Says she got here through some kind of spell.”

Darla gave him a considering look and then backhanded him, sending him flying into the wall at the back of the cage. He smacked his head hard enough to make Willow cringe in involuntary sympathy, but he did not lose consciousness. “When I have a question for you, then you can speak,” she said. She turned back to Willow, smiling as though nothing had happened. “Is what he says true, dear?”

“Yes,” Willow nodded to emphasize the word she could barely vocalize. She didn’t think she could possibly have felt more fear than she had with Xander, but Darla proved her wrong.

“Well, it’s settled then. You’ll be part of the family again in no time. You should have been brought to the Master immediately, of course.” She glared at Xander who hadn’t made any move to come closer to them. “But, no harm done, I suppose.” She took in the bruise on the side of Willow’s face and the bite on her neck. “Well, not too much.”

Darla gently led Willow out of the cage. She removed a cardigan sweater that she had been wearing over a blouse and helped Willow into it. The white cotton knit didn’t really go with the leather skirt, but Willow wasn’t complaining. “There you are,” she purred. “The Master would never forgive me if I let his girl catch a chill.” She turned back to the cage and addressed Xander, “Come. Your punishment awaits.” Her stern, commanding tone was so different from her gentle manner of a moment ago that Willow wondered if she wasn’t a little bit crazy.

Xander said nothing, just came out of the cage, closing the door behind him, and followed the two women up the stairs scowling at their backs. There was no arguing with Darla, not where the Master’s orders were concerned. If she had been sent to find out why the minions were suddenly coming up with crazy stories about Willow, he was screwed.

Willow, for her part, walked along with Darla, trying not to think about what would happen when they got to the door at the end of the hall. She had known that the only way out, the only way to escape Xander, meant going through the Master, she just never counted on walking right up to him so calmly. She pictured hiding, or running, or even fighting, but not this giving up that had become her solution when she saw Darla in the basement. Darla had made the hurt stop, if only to make it eternal. Against Xander’s cruelty she could raise her defenses, fight the good fight, or at least feel a righteous indignation. Against this bizarre kindness, she had no defense. Soon she would be dead and everything that had happened to her would be meaningless. If surviving meant enduring Xander’s touch for as long as she lived, then she was no longer certain that was her best option. Presented now with this second option in which she would not survive, and also would not have to submit to Xander, she just wasn’t sure which was worse. She would be sure soon enough. When death touched her more intimately than Xander ever had, she would know which was worse. It would be too late to do anything about it, not that the decision was hers anymore anyway, but she would know what the choice should have been. And if Darla had told the truth, if she really was a favorite of the Master? Then whether or not she desired her death, she would see Xander burn.


Part Five

The Master sat on the stage, on what could only be called a throne.  Four minions flanked the throne, two on each side, standing a respectful distance away.  Each one had a restrained, naked human kneeling at its feet, their heads bent obediently, not daring to raise an eye to look upon the Master.  There were three young women and one young boy, just a little younger than the one from Angel’s cage.  Refreshments for the Master, Willow realized.  No bands played at The Bronze anymore, but loud, bass-heavy music pounded throughout the room and a couple hundred vampires danced to it out on the floor.  There was no longer a bar in the center of the room.  Instead, several cages hung here and there and contained two or three humans each.  When a vampire got peckish, he simply pulled an arm or leg out through the bars of a cage and took a drink. 

Willow had only moments to take all this in and then she was standing before the Master with Darla by her side and Xander standing just behind them both.  The Master made a vague motion with his hand and the music came to an abrupt end.  Willow had a creepy sensation that every vampire in the room was staring at her, but she did not dare turn her head to look back and see.  The bright stage lighting made her eyes hurt after the darkness of Xander’s room and the basement, but she did her best not to squint.  Whatever happened, she wanted to go into it with her eyes open. 

The Master stood up and took one step forward to close the distance between himself and Willow.  His bloodstained mouth was slightly open as if he was awed by her presence.  He lifted one hand and gently touched her cheek.  “So, it’s true.  My precious childe has been returned to me in her human form.”  Willow did not bother to correct him.  It was pointless to say that she was not the Willow from this world and had never been a vampire.  She was still Willow and they all knew it.  Besides, correcting the Master didn’t seem like her smartest move.

He removed his hand from Willow’s face and she congratulated herself on not shuddering at his touch.  He turned to Darla.  “You have done well, my love.  Name any reward and you shall have it.”

Darla bowed slightly and said, “I desire only your favor, Master.” 

This evidently pleased him and his wrinkled face broke into a smile.  “Then know that you have it, childe.”

Without having to be told, Darla stepped to one side, drawing Willow away with her so that Xander stood alone before the Master.  His smile disappeared as though it had never existed and he glared at his youngest childe.  “You,” he said, and that one word held such promises of unspeakable wrath that this time Willow couldn’t help shuddering.  Darla put an arm around her and that made her want to shudder more, but she managed to control it. 

“You knew how I grieved to lose Willow, with no explanation and no one to blame, no one to kill for causing it.  Now I find that all along you’ve had her with you, this new incarnation of my beautiful girl.”  His voice grew louder.  “And not only did you keep her from me, you hurt her!  You took advantage of her weakness in this form and you caused her pain.  That is not for you to do to her.  I am her Master and if she needs to be disciplined, if she needs to bleed, it will be me that makes that happen.”  Xander did not answer.  He had not been asked to speak and the Master wasn’t finished.  “To think that I only sired you for her in the first place.  Even in death she desired you and I could deny her nothing.”  He turned to Willow.  “Tell me, my sweet girl, do you still desire this one?  Would his absence from this world cause you grief?”

Willow wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say, but Darla gave her a little nudge to let her know that she better answer, so she went with the truth.  “No,” and then had a better thought.  “No, Master.” 

The Master nodded and then addressed the entire room.  “This wrong shall be righted in blood.  I will take the strength of the demon within my traitorous servant and use it to restore my most favored childe to her rightful place by my side.”  There were cheers from the vampires in the crowd, though Willow suspected that the Master could have said he planned to take a nap and they would have cheered just as loudly. 

Still standing beside the throne, and uncomfortably close to the minions and their human captives, Willow could see the fear on Xander’s face when the Master put his hands on his shoulders.  She expected the Master to feed right then, but instead he looked Xander in the eye and said, “I regret the day you were turned.”  Then, clutching the material of Xander’s shirt in both fists, the Master yanked his hands in opposite directions, tearing it apart. 

In the moment when the Master had released him to cast the remains of his shirt to the ground, Xander bolted.  He leapt from the stage and began to push his way through the crowd, making for the front door.  The Master sighed and rolled his eyes.  “Stop him,” he said, not bothering to raise his voice.  Immediately dozens of hands seized Xander and held him tight in spite of his struggles.  He was passed along, hand to hand until he was back in front of the stage, then the crowed surged and he was thrown up in the air and landed right at the Master’s feet. 

With no further speeches or decrees, the Master hauled Xander up by the neck to stand before him.  Xander struggled a little, but could not escape the bone crushing embrace.  The Master’s hideous lips opened wide to expose his ever-present fangs and then they were buried in Xander’s flesh.  Xander went still almost at once as the Master fed from him. 

Willow could not bring herself to watch while he was drained.  Her wish for revenge did not extend to seeing his existence end in such a distasteful manner.  The Master’s claw-like fingers scraped over his back in a spastic caress while his throat worked quickly, taking Xander’s blood faster and faster.  Then Xander began to change.  His hands, hanging at his sides began to shrivel and crack.  The bones became prominent under the thin, graying skin of his fingers.  The effect traveled up his arms, to his shoulders, across his back and finally up his neck.  It was undoubtedly also happening to his legs, hidden beneath the pants. 

Just as the transformation reached the spot where the Master was feeding he pulled away and released Xander.  Xander made a dry, choked, gasping noise, and then burst into a cloud of dust that drifted slowly to the floor while they watched.  Willow stared at the scene, shocked, but not upset for Xander.  She had wondered when Xander had fed so deeply from Angel if it was possible for one vampire to kill another that way.  Now she knew, though she suspected that only a vampire with the power of the Master could do it.

The Master made a show of brushing himself off and then he sat back down in his throne.  “I have reclaimed the power wasted to make that disobedient whelp,” he announced to the assembled crowd.  “Now I will take into myself the blood of innocents to nourish the fledgling that will soon rise in the body of the girl before you.”

As though he had asked, the first minion on his right brought forward his captive, one of the young women.  She didn’t struggle and Willow wondered if she was drugged.  She started to take a step forward, wanting to protest the death of this girl on her behalf, but Darla’s hand on her arm was all the warning she needed.  She could either stand still on her own to watch, or she could be chained up like the captives and watch.

The girl was placed on the Master’s lap, and her head rested against his shoulder like a child visiting Santa to whisper Christmas wishes.  Cradling the girl’s back with one arm, the Master stroked her bare breast a few times and then leaned forward and bit into it.  Though he had been very efficient when feeding from Xander, now a single trickle of blood leaked out from under his lips and slid down over her nipple before dripping off onto her stomach.  Willow saw one of her legs twitch, the only sign that she might know what was happening to her, and then it was over, and the Master dumped her body onto the floor.  She landed on her face, her limbs a twisted heap beneath her, all signs of life utterly absent.

Willow pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, trying not to be sick.  Not that anything was in her stomach to come up.  The wave of nausea had almost as much to do with the fact that she hadn’t eaten in nearly two days as the sight of death in front of her.  Until that moment, she had been too focused on not being killed to notice that she was hungry. 

The minion who had guarded the girl and delivered her to the Master came forward again to remove her body.  He didn’t take the time to pick her up, just grabbed one of her arms and dragged her across the floor.  The wound on her chest left a bloody trail on the stage that might’ve made Willow lose it completely, but she was too focused on watching the second minion bringing the young boy to the Master’s waiting arms. 

Another life, taken in her name.  Innocents dying, not so she could live, but so that in death, she would be strong and powerful enough to bend others to her will and kill those who opposed her.  Life for her death, it was not a fair trade.  She could not choose to die instead of them, she would die with them.  She was doomed to be at the beck and call of a shriveled up, butt-ugly vampire for the rest of eternity.  And to think that at the time she had resented being Xander’s pet.  At least he was still cute, in an evil, I’m-going-to-make-your-life-a-living-hell sort of way.

The boy was dragged away with the same utter lack of dignity as the girl before him.  Darla pulled Willow with her a little farther away from the throne to let the minions behind them with their humans through to the Master.  The crowd in the club watched every movement on the stage with the attention of hundreds of movie patrons glued to the screen at an action thriller, motionless and enraptured.  In the space of only minutes, the last of the human sacrifices was dragged away, lifeless and desecrated. 

Willow watched it all, her mind blank, her body numb except for the occasional hunger pain in her belly.  After all her narrow misses, all the fights she had scraped through with her life and her humanity in tact and she was finally beaten.  It seemed cruel that the monster to end the game for her was one that she had thought long defeated.  It should have been some new and unstoppable threat that got to her.  Instead it would be this vile thing that she knew from personal experience could be killed, if only she had the resources, or specifically, a slayer, to do it.  But she had not, and so, she would die like so many others and live again in endless night. 

Darla was bringing her forward again, she noticed.  She supposed it was her turn now.  The Master was speaking, announcing the ritual that he was about to begin.  She saw a knife brought forward, heard words spoken explaining that this knife would part the Master’s flesh, draw his blood to create his childe.  She knew on some level that this was all about her, but it didn’t seem real, didn’t seem like something she should be concerned about. 

She realized that she was alone on the stage with the Master, facing him, waiting for death.  It was when he touched her that she came back to herself, and then it was too late.  But it had already been too late, too late by far for her when she first opened her eyes on this miserable world.  Her breathing came more rapidly though he wasn’t hurting her.  He turned her around to face the crowd so they could see her face as she passed from the inferiority of human life.  He would take her slowly, unlike the earlier victims, allowing the pain of her death to strengthen the demon that would soon inhabit her body.  Pulling her back against him, he gently brushed her hair back from her neck and pushed the sweater down over her shoulder, baring her skin for his bite.  He did not tear the sweater from her as he had torn the shirt from Xander.  He didn’t even move it far enough that it revealed anything that would make her blush, as if he understood the modesty of a young girl. 

He spoke quietly in her ear of things that were supposed to reassure her.  He told her how she would wake in his bed and see his face.  How he would feed her as much as she wished until her demon was sated.  How they would reestablish their bond through the desires of the flesh, his demon and hers rejoicing in their union.  He told her of the hunts he would take her on and the havoc they would wreak.  Then when her fear of all these things was so intense she thought her heart might pound right through her chest, she felt his fangs pierce her skin.

She whimpered from the pain which only made him bite down harder.  He didn’t gulp her blood down as he had with the others.  She could feel that he only sipped at the wound, drawing out the time that she would remain conscious as long as possible.  His hands gripped her upper arms, effectively preventing her from squirming or pulling away.  The vampires in the crowd were on their knees, watching in awe as the Master gave his greatest gift. 

Willow remembered a time when she was six years old and had a very bad belly ache.  The doctors at the hospital wanted her to have blood drawn so they could see if she had appendicitis.  It took two nurses to hold her down and a third to put the needle in her arm and she had screamed like they were killing her.  Her parents had not been pleased.  It was even worse that the blood test came back negative and the doctors concluded she had simply eaten a bad hotdog.  She never ate another hotdog and she still couldn’t stand the thought of needles. 

Fangs were really just big needles, she decided.  They pierced the skin and they hurt and they were specially made to steal your blood and scare little kids.  Then she thought that her last thought should be something more meaningful.  She thought about her parents and wondered if they’d noticed yet that she was missing.  She thought about her friends and wondered if they really had met her vampire self and assumed that was her and she was dead.  She thought about her vampire self and wondered if, once she was also a vampire, if she could kick her own ass.  And finally, as the room began to look a little fuzzy, and a lot dimmer, she thought of Oz.  She wondered if he could love her as a vampire.  He had a sort of demon in him too, maybe he would understand.  Not that she would ever see him again.

Then, as though her thoughts had summoned him to appear, she could have sworn she saw Oz come through the front doors brandishing a variety of weapons and followed by Giles and a few other people who looked vaguely familiar, but who could not be identified by her rapidly fading eyesight.  She gave up and closed her eyes, though she imagined that she heard shouts and sounds of a fight.  Abruptly the Master’s iron grip was torn from her and she felt herself falling, but could do nothing to brace the impact of hitting the floor.  It didn’t matter anyway, the time for pain was passing quickly.  She had one last spark of coherence to think that it was nice that her brain had hallucinated Oz for her right when she wanted him.  She even appreciated seeing Giles, though she hadn’t realized that he had meant so much to her as to be included in her last vision.  Then her thoughts were gone along with her sight and her hearing and her sense of self and her world was black.


Part Six

Her alarm clock beeped in a steady rhythm next to her bed. It was time to wake up, or she would be late for school. But she was so tired. She couldn’t even work up enough strength to lift her arm and smack the offending clock into submission. Through her closed eyelids, she sensed that her room was brightly lit. How long had the alarm been going off? Usually the sun was barely peeking over the horizon when she woke. If she couldn’t turn off the alarm, she should at least open her eyes to see what time it was. Maybe, if it was already really late, she would just skip class today.

Her eyes did not want to open any more than her arm wanted to move. Just when she thought she might be able to fall back to sleep in spite of the beeping, she heard another sound. A voice. A man’s voice, and not one that she recognized. Fear surged through her at the prospect of a stranger in her house. Calling up every reserve of strength she could find buried within her, she forced her eyes to open. At first, the scene did not make any sense.

She was not in her bedroom, but that was the only scary part. She was in a sunny room in a warm bed and two concerned faces peered down at her. One of the faces was Oz. The other, the one that must have belonged to the unfamiliar voice, was a doctor. When he saw her eyes open, he smiled at her, a real smile that said that his patients were people to him, not just a paycheck.

“Ah, she’s awake! I hoped it would happen soon. I’ll send a nurse in with some broth to get her started.” He nodded to Oz and bustled away.

Willow tried to sit up, but Oz held up his hand indicating for her to be still. “You’re not supposed to do that yet,” he said.

She relaxed back into the pillows. Now that she knew she wasn’t in any immediate danger, and probably wasn’t expected at school, either, Willow’s mind began to race in its effort to make sense of the situation. Her first thought, that she must’ve really hurt herself doing that stupid spell with Anya to have wound up in the hospital, was quickly discarded. As nice as it would be to delude herself into thinking that the last couple of days had all been a horrific nightmare, her memories were far too clear and detailed to be anything but real.

But that didn’t make sense. If she really was in that awful place where the Master reigned, she should be dead, or at least a vampire. Her eyes widened as she considered that possibility. Along with the surge of fear that she was now a member of the undead, she heard the beeping of the alarm clock become more insistent. No, not alarm clock, heart monitor. She could see it next to her bed and frowned at it. The beeping was messing with her concentration. Oz got the idea and managed to turn off the sound, but little green lines still floated across with regular peaks, assuring them of her well being. The relevance of the heart monitor sank in, the vampire theory was out.

She could feel a bandage on her neck, proof that the Master had truly attempted to make her one of his brood. Had Oz saved her? Did he know who she was? If not, why would he be here with her now? As much as she usually enjoyed finding things out for herself, she was growing tired of playing twenty questions in her head and getting nowhere. Just as she made up her mind to try to muster the strength to speak, a nurse came in bearing a plastic bowl on a plastic tray covered with a plastic lid. Willow managed to wrinkle her nose, reminded of the cafeteria food at school. The nurse placed the tray on the little table beside the bed and lifted the lid from the bowl. As soon as the steamy aroma of chicken broth reached Willow, her stomach rumbled loudly. That had never happened from the cafeteria food at school.

“Here we are! Nice broth for our favorite patient!” The nurse sang, as though tending a small child. She sat down on a stool in front of the table and next to the bed, and began to spoon-feed the broth to Willow.

It wasn’t until the first of the warm liquid slipped down her throat that she realized how dry her mouth was. When had she last had a drink? No doubt the IV in her arm was keeping her hydrated, but that didn’t do much to alleviate how parched she felt.

When the broth was gone, the nurse beamed down at Willow. “Very good!” She said. “Now how would you like some ice cream in about an hour?”

Willow nodded as enthusiastically as she could with the bandage on her neck. Ice cream sounded like just the ticket. The nurse patted her hand, then took her pulse and finally left with a few parting assurances that Willow was looking great.

Oz moved from the corner of the room where he had lurked while Willow was eating to stand at the foot of the bed. She recognized the look on his face. She knew all his looks, even though most of them looked like he was just being Oz. This was his confused and suspicious look. She remembered all too well the last time she had seen that look. It was not a good memory. Thankfully, there was too much going on in the present to allow herself to dwell on those past indiscretions, not that this Oz would have any idea about them.

Willow cleared her throat and found her voice to ask the first of the multitude of questions that had been plaguing her since she woke up. “What happened?” It was the one she was most curious about.

Oz nodded, as if allowing that he would answer her questions first. She had no doubt that he had plenty of his own. “Me and the other white hats raided the Bronze. This slayer came to town and she wanted to take on the Master. We couldn’t stop her, so we tried to help.” His eyes dropped so that he was looking at her feet instead of her face. “It didn’t go well.”

“Buffy…” Willow began. Oz’s head jerked up.

“Yeah, that was her name.”

“Was?”

“She…” He took a breath and plunged ahead. “The Master killed her right after she pulled him off of you. One of the other guys dragged you out and then the rest of us just ran. Once the slayer was gone…” He shrugged, not needing to explain the hopelessness of the situation. He was looking at her with a new expression, one that let her know she wouldn’t get too much more out of him until he knew she could be trusted.

“How did I get here?” She asked. It had taken something away from her to hear that it had been Buffy who had saved her and some unknown hero who had borne her away from the scene. She wanted it to be Oz who had raced her to the hospital and remained by her side throughout the ordeal.

“We brought you here in the van with a couple of other humans that we managed to get out of the cages. You’re the only one still here. The rest went home the same day.”

Same day? Willow wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to the next question. “How long was I out?”

“Four days.” At her horrified expression, he added. “They weren’t sure you’d wake up at all. They never had anyone else survive this long who needed that much blood.” Then, realizing that wasn’t as reassuring as it was supposed to be, he said, “They said there wasn’t any brain damage.”

Great. “What did you tell them?” She wanted to know.

Oz looked puzzled. “About what?”

“About me! About what happened! How did you explain the bite and that I needed all that blood?”

“It was a vampire bite. Standard procedure. We didn’t have to explain anything to them.”

Of course not. Willow realized she still hadn’t totally grasped the ramifications of this vampire-ruled world. And now, with Buffy dead, it would never get any better. She wanted to grieve for her friend, even knowing that it wasn’t the Buffy she knew, it was still a loss. Her two best friends, both dead in this world, and her boyfriend standing there looking at her like she was some sort of specimen to be studied. No love shone in his eyes as he looked at her. The concern was not for her. Tears threatened to fall, but she held them in check. Now was not the time.

“Why are you here?” She demanded. “You don’t know me. Why are you in my room?” She knew her voice was rising, but she couldn’t help it.

“I know you,” he said. At first, Willow felt a glimmer of hope, that somehow, even in this world, they were together. And then it all clicked. He didn’t know her at all. The Willow of this world was a vampire! He thought she was a threat to him!

“You think I’m her somehow! You’re guarding me,” she accused.

“Yes.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Jump out of this bed and bite you? You can see I’m human.” She jerked her chin towards the heart monitor. “So what’s with the stakeout in my room?”

Oz faced her angry glare with unwavering conviction. “We had to be sure. It could have been a trick of the Master, making one of his servants look like a helpless human to get to us.”

Unable to help the tears in her eyes now, she whispered, “Did it work? Does this move you at all?”

He turned his back on her and took a step towards the door. “Oz!” She called out, desperate for him to stay with her.

He stopped in his tracks and faced her again. “You know my name. How?”

“I love you,” she said, simply.

He frowned. “We’ve never met when you weren’t trying to kill me.”

“Where are you going?” She asked.

“To get Giles. He wanted to question you when you came to.”

Willow winced at the wording. Question her? What was she? A victim or a suspect? “Don’t you care how this happened? Why I’m here?”

He took a deep breath and sighed. “I don’t think you’re a vampire in some sort of disguise. Faking unconsciousness for four days would take a lot more patience than most vamps have. You know names you have no business knowing, but you don’t look like much of a threat. What else is there to care about?”

He left without waiting for her to answer. With no one there to witness them, she let her tears fall freely. She wondered if she could cry so much that it would dehydrate her again, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. In some ways seeing the Oz of this world was worse than seeing Xander. Xander, at least, had an excuse for being completely different. He was dead, his soul gone, and only a vicious demon had kept his body animated to torment her. And now, even that was gone, a small blessing. But Oz, Oz was human and good. He should love her, but she hadn’t been here to love. And what if he did love her? Would the embrace of this Oz be a betrayal to the one at home? Was it possible to cheat on someone with himself? Was it possible to cheat on someone she would probably never see again? All pointless questions. This Oz did not love her and there was nothing she could do to erase those looks he gave her that were tainted by memories of violence at the hands of her vampire self.

The nurse returned long before Oz did. After four days, it made sense that Giles was no longer in the hospital. Who knew where Oz would have to go to get him? Willow had lost her taste for the promised ice cream, but she ate it anyway. When the nursed asked why she was crying she admitted that one of her friends had not survived the attack that landed her in the hospital. Her answer was accepted immediately with no further questions asked. It was an all too common scenario in this world, no doubt.

She was promised more ice cream for dinner, if she could keep down what she’d already eaten. The following day might bring crackers if her progress was really impressive. Her stomach had been empty for so long that they were concerned she might reject solid food if it was given too soon. Then the nurse was gone and she was once again alone with her thoughts. She noticed that there was a remote control on her bedside table that likely operated the TV mounted on the wall up near the ceiling. It tempted her for only a moment, and then she thought of how awful it would be to accidentally see the news in this place and that decided the matter for her.

Going back to sleep was starting to seem like an attractive option when Oz came in, trailed by Giles looking painfully familiar in a tweed suit. He smiled at her, but it was the smile of a detective trying to put a witness at ease to better extract the truth rather than the smile of fatherly affection she expected. He did not ask after her health, opting instead to get straight to the point. “From what Oz has told me, you seem to be aware of why we are interested in you.”

Willow frowned, not looking forward to a repeat of her earlier conversation. “Yeah.” She saw no reason to go over everything again since Oz had obviously told Giles about their talk.

“Very well. Do you have an explanation as to how this happened?”

So he actually cared why she wasn’t a threat, not just that she couldn’t bite. Pleased that someone was interested in her side of things, she willingly explained as much as she could about how her world was different and how she had been involved in performing a spell just before finding herself in this new world. She told them that she had learned from the vampires at the Master’s lair that she wasn’t human in this world, but she didn’t add any details about how she had been treated during her stay with Xander. She even ventured her theory that her vampire double was in her world and possibly wreaking havoc with her friends. With as much clinical detachment as she could muster, she added that Oz and Giles, as well as Buffy and Xander were included in this group of friends that she was worried about. Seeing them exchange a look, she hurriedly added that her Xander was also human.

When she was finished telling her story, she felt like she’d given a three hour lecture standing on her head. As much as it was nice to have familiar faces surrounding her, part of her really, really wanted more sleep. Then Giles asked a question that got her attention again. “Tell me, Willow. Is there, by any chance, a vampire named Angel in your world?”

“Yeah, there is. He’s pretty much the same as he is here. Vampire with a soul, trying to help people and all that. Too bad the vamps have him, he’d probably help you guys.”

Giles and Oz exchanged another of those looks that made Willow feel excluded. “Their stories match,” Oz muttered.

“Indeed,” agreed Giles. When Oz didn’t make any move to leave the room, Giles added, “We did give him our word.”

“Yeah, it’s cool.” Oz left quietly, and Willow was alone with Giles.

“I know you’ve been through a lot and we’ve kept you up too long as it is. But if you think you have the strength, there is one more… person, who would like to see you.”

Willow shrugged. It wasn’t like she could get more tired. Giles nodded and went to open the door. Oz came through again, but this time he was followed by someone Willow had never expected to see again in the madness of this universe. “Angel,” she whispered.


Part Seven

When Willow could tear her gaze away from Angel’s face, she noticed that Oz and Giles had left the room, giving them privacy to talk. “What are you doing here? How did you get here?” She asked, her thoughts a whirl of the daring escape and clandestine maneuvers that she was sure must have lead him to her.

He shrugged. “When Darla came and took you and Xander away, she forgot to lock the cage.” Willow’s fantastical imaginings came to a screeching halt. “I heard the commotion upstairs and showed up just in time to see the slayer taken out. When I saw them carrying you away, I followed.”

“And they just accepted you with open arms as one of the good guys?” Her lips pressed together in a disbelieving smile.

Angel shifted on his feet. “Well, no. Actually they pointed a lot of stakes and crosses at me for awhile. When they found out that I had information about you, they started listening. I still don’t think they trust me, but they promised to believe me, and not stake me, if you told the same story when you woke up.”

“So now they believe us both?”

He nodded. “I think so. Or they never would have left us alone together to finalize our grand scheme to infiltrate their ranks and betray them to the Master.”

Willow gave him a real smile. “It’s nice that you wanted to see me,” she said warmly. She didn’t say, “Especially after I participated in your rape and torture.”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry, and thank you.” He looked at her feet as he spoke, much as Oz had only a short time ago when he told her of their failed raid on the Bronze.

Her nose scrunched up, her confusion plain. “Why are you saying sorry to me when I’m the one that did stuff to you and… hey, please tell me that’s not what you’re thanking me for!” She knew some guys thought girls expected them to say thank you for sex and she couldn’t imagine anything more horrific to thank someone for than what she had done to Angel.

He shook his head, a tiny, rueful smile tugging at his lips. “No, not that. I’m sorry I didn’t try to stop it when Darla took you. I knew what would happen and I didn’t stand up to her.” He frowned then and clenched his fists at his sides. “I’ve never stood up to her.” He looked up to meet Willow’s eyes. “She’s my sire,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Willow just said, “I know.”

He blinked. “Right, you know a lot of things about me. I keep forgetting.” He took a moment to remember what he had been saying and continued, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t even stand up to her after you stood up to Xander for me.” Willow couldn’t recall doing anything but letting Xander do as he pleased. Seeing that she still didn’t get him, he added, “You wouldn’t cut me. You stood up to him and he could’ve hurt you for it. I know he tried, and I couldn’t stop that, either. It’s been a really long time since anyone did something like that for me. So, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said.

“But I want you to know I’m really grateful.”

Willow waved a hand to quiet him. “No, really. Please don’t mention it. That was the worst thing that ever happened to me and I don’t want to talk about it.”

Angel was back to looking at her feet. “Oh, sure. Sorry. Again.”

“Hey, so… what are you going to do now? You know, now that you’re all free and un-puppified.”

Angel winced and she realized that he wasn’t the only one skilled at bringing up painful thoughts at unwelcome moments. To his credit, he answered as though she hadn’t offended him. “These guys want to go up against the Master again pretty soon. I’ll stick around long enough to help with that, if they’ll let me, and then, well… I’ll try making it through this battle first.”

Willow felt a swell of admiration for the vampire. After all that had happened, he was willing to go back into enemy territory to take out a threat to all of Sunnydale, even though it meant risking being captured again. “That sounds like an Angel thing to do,” she said, giving him a smile that let him know it was a compliment.

He met her eyes and saw her confidence in him. He also saw the fatigue. “I should go,” he said. “You must be worn out.”

She couldn’t argue with that, but when he tried to leave, she called him back. “Angel?” He gave her his attention. “I’m sorry. And… thank you.” He nodded and left. No explanation was necessary.

~~

Three days later, Willow was released from the hospital into the care of Mr. Rupert Giles, her British uncle, or so they told the doctors. She wasn’t even close to being back to her full strength, but she could walk and talk and feed herself, so she felt optimistic. When she showed up with Giles in the library of the high school, it took her a few seconds to convince herself that walking through those doors had not magically transported her back home. It was the closest thing to her Sunnydale that she’d seen so far. The only things that didn’t match were the people in the library. They were not the Scooby gang. Or maybe they were, but they weren’t *her* Scooby gang, at least not all of them. Oz and Angel, they were right. But Angel wasn’t casting longing glances at a slayer and Oz would not be sitting next to her and casually playing with her hair while they flipped through ancient texts.

Giles made the necessary introductions and she endured the pleasantries and the furtive glances at her neck, which she knew sported two very visible vampire bites. Her gratitude that none of them treated her like the enemy was great enough to allow her to overlook a lot. Giles or Oz, most likely Giles, must have given them a very effective speech to allow them to get past her striking resemblance to a vampire who was not only the Master’s most ruthless servant, but who had also personally thinned their ranks considerably.

Feeling remarkably at home among people she really didn’t know, Willow flopped down in a chair, picked up the nearest book and asked, “So, what are we researching today?” The rest of the crew looked up, looked around at each other uncomfortably, and then finally looked at Giles.

He sighed and took off his glasses long enough to rub them with a handkerchief, and then put them back on and faced her. “Actually, we’re researching you. Or, more precisely, a way to send you home.”

Willow felt a surge of gratitude, happiness, and confusion all at once. “Wow, that’s really nice of you guys. But, I thought we were going after the Master? I could help, you know. Back home I’ve fought lots of demons.”

Giles gave her a quick smile and explained. “Yes, well, you see, as much we are always grateful for extra help, you’re actually putting us all in quite a bit of danger just being here. We are sworn to help victims of the vampires, including yourself, but by protecting you, we make ourselves a target for the Master’s forces. He will not let you go. The hospital is protected vigorously at all times, but once he realizes you are no longer there, he will send his best warriors to come for you.”

Willow’s illusions of peace and security in the comfort of familiar surroundings shattered instantly. What he said made perfect sense. How could she think that the Master would just forget that there was a human version of his favorite childe running around free?

Giles saw the fear in her eyes and his tone softened. “I’m sorry, Willow. I thought you would realize what had to be done. It’s for your own good as much as ours. In your weakened condition, you can hardly be expected to fight with us.”

She looked around the room and found Oz, his eyes on her as everyone’s were. There was no comfort there, his face was hard, cold. He did not appreciate her putting his people in jeopardy. She sought out Angel, and while his face held a small degree of sympathy, it also held agreement with what had already been said. So they didn’t want her there. Well, that was just fine, she didn’t want to be there either; she wanted to go home. So why did she feel so rejected that the people who looked like her friends in this strange place wanted her gone?

She took a deep breath and gave a firm nod of her head. “Ok, then. Let’s get me home. I remember some of the spell that got me here, maybe that will help.”

The tension in the room eased a bit at her acceptance of their desire to be rid of her. She told them everything she could think of about the spell, and they asked her questions to learn more. The questions showed intelligence and knowledge of the mystical and supernatural that she still found it difficult to credit to ordinary humans. She began to have a glimmer of hope for their long-term survival.

It took the better part of the afternoon, but they managed to piece together a spell that seemed like it would work. Giles assured her that it was much easier to send something or someone back to their home dimension than it was to take them out of it. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit of panic that she might instead end up in some third reality that she had yet to see. She asked if they wanted to wait until tomorrow to do the spell, once they were all more rested, not that any of them looked exceptionally tired, other than her. That idea was not well-received. Everyone was anxious to have Willow out of the way before dark.

As Giles began preparing for the spell, Willow walked up to Oz and stood in front of him until he looked at her. She motioned him to a quiet corner of the library and he followed her, though he didn’t seem happy about it. “What is it?” He asked.

“Are you a werewolf?” She whispered.

“What?” He took a step back from her. “No. What would make you ask that?” As soon as the words left his mouth, his expression changed as it occurred to him exactly why she would ask that.

She nodded. “Just stay away from your cousins, ok?” She left him there looking bewildered and went to Angel.

Suspecting that she wanted a private word with him as well, he got up and followed her without being asked. When they were alone, she realized that her warning to him was meaningless. She wanted to tell him to be careful of his soul, but this version of Angel was in no danger of achieving perfect happiness. Not after what he’d been through. Not with Buffy, his soul mate, dead and gone. He hadn’t even known her. Some say it’s better to have loved and lost, but they had never met Angel when he had loved and lost his soul. In his case, it was definitely better to have never loved at all. Still, there must be something she could give him, some bit of information that would help him somehow. She allowed herself to think on her time in his universe and she remembered something he might not know. “Xander’s dead,” she told him. “The Master dusted him for what he did to me.” Angel did not respond. “I just thought… well, you might like to know that.”

He reached out and took her hand. She was surprised at the gesture. It was one her Angel would never have made. “I’m glad,” he told her, his voice thick. “I’m glad for both of us.” Not about to begin the long and painful process of dealing with Xander’s abuse right there in the library, she pulled away from him and went back to the group to see if Giles needed help.

Everything was ready for her. The circle was formed, candles were lit, and the necessary incantation was written down, just waiting to be read aloud. Giles was the only other person who had the ability to call the necessary power to him, so Willow would have to be the second person in casting the spell in addition to being the object of the spell. It was something she hadn’t attempted before, but a necessary risk if she wanted to get home.

She sat down, facing Giles, and they joined hands. She thought he would begin chanting, but he said, “Willow, I must ask you for a promise before we begin.”

She looked him in the eye so he’d know she meant what she said. “You saved me. Name it.”

“When you return to your world, if you do indeed encounter your vampire doppelganger, I must insist that you not attempt to return her here.”

Willow couldn’t imagine why he thought she would do such a thing, but the promise seemed important to him, so she said. “I promise I won’t.” Then she looked at Angel who stood a safe distance from the circle with the rest of the group. When their eyes met she said, “I would never do that.”

Giles exhaled, visibly relieved. “Thank you. I fear that her return would strengthen the Master beyond our ability to defeat him. Your coming here and displacing her was really a small blessing for us. He put a great deal of his power into making her.”

Willow cut off his musings on past terrors. “Oh, the Master! I almost forgot! After you kill him, make sure you smash up the bones really well. Otherwise he might come back.”

“Bones?” Giles asked. “Willow, surely you’ve seen a vampire killed. They leave nothing but dust.”

She shook her head impatiently. “You’ll see. Just remember what I said.”

“I will,” he agreed. “Now, shall we send you home?” He squeezed her hands gently in reminder of the spell they were about to do.

“Yes please,” she said eagerly.

Giles smiled at her, a little nervous. “Right, just a little temporal fold, easy enough, I’m sure.”

He chanted and let go of one of her hands to pour the sand while she closed her eyes and concentrated on home. His voice began to sound far away and the feel of his hand faded as if it were melting out from under hers. Then she could sense that he was gone. She opened her eyes.

For the second time, she found herself staring at a familiar-looking vampire in a cage. The vampire was looking back at her, interested in her sudden appearance in the middle of the library. She walked closer to it, trying not to show the weakness from her injuries, or the horror she felt at the sight of the thing in the cage.  In response, it came to the very front of the cage where Giles usually kept his most dangerous books, studying her every move.

“So, you're the other Willow,” she said to the vampire. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Part Eight

"How did you get here?” The vampire demanded. She looked back and forth between Willow, who stood in front of the cage, and the spot on the floor where she had materialized.

The situation was better than Willow could ever have hoped for. Her guilty feelings for what the vampire she’d accidentally set loose among her friends might have done were slightly eased, knowing that at least some of them had to be alive in order to have locked her in the cage. She was also saved from trying to figure out how to track down the vampire and deal with her.

“Hmmm, well, you’re in the cage, so I think I’ll be asking the questions,” Willow responded. The vampire crossed her arms and stuck her lip out in a pout, but didn’t argue. “Now, what I really wanna know is, did you hurt any of my friends?”

The vampire frowned, considering. “The white hats? No, they caught me before I could eat ‘em.”

Some of the tension flowed out of Willow’s muscles and she took a deep breath before continuing. “Why didn’t they kill you?”

A smirk answered her question even before the words were spoken. “They think I’m you.”

Of course they did, it was exactly what she had feared. It wasn’t as if Anya would go to them and say, “Hey, by the way, I made your friend disappear.” Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of the situation. Even if they thought she had been turned, why not kill her? What did they plan to do? Keep her locked in a cage and feed her pigs blood for eternity? It was a stupid plan, and dangerous. Eventually, the vampire would trick one of them, or just force her way out of the cage, and there would be bloodshed. If they had known she was a vampire from another reality, it might be conceivable that they were looking for a way to send her back and rescue their own Willow. But, supposedly they thought *this* was their Willow. So, why the cage and not the end of a stake?

Willow turned her back on the vampire and wandered through the library, absorbing all the familiar sights and smells. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but it was easier to think without looking at her vampire twin in the cage. Could her friends really be that squeamish about killing her? After all, Xander had managed to kill Jesse, and every one of them had been prepared to kill Angelus if his soul couldn’t be restored. Willow’s stomach tightened and she rushed back to the main desk where the library’s only computer sat. Sure enough, a familiar looking floppy disk caught her eye. “They’re going to give you a soul!” It was the only thing that made sense. Thinking she was newly turned, they wanted to give her a soul and keep her with them instead of killing her. Of course, since she was the only one they knew that could do the spell, they hadn’t managed to perform it yet. They were probably searching for another witch at that very moment.

The vampire was plainly horrified. “A soul? Like Puppy? Ugh! No way!” And then with pleading in her eyes, she said, “Send me back. I know you can do it.”

Willow studied her, considering the request. “How do I know you’re not just trying to get me to open the cage so you can eat me?”

“Come on, you know Puppy, er…Angel. He’s a miserable slave to that thing inside him. He doesn’t even enjoy the blood he drinks. You think I want to wind up like him? I want to go home without a soul way more than I want to eat you.”

Willow gave a resigned sigh. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to let them give you a soul. I know what you’ve done, and it’s some pretty bad stuff, so I know it would really make you suffer. You don’t deserve that. It’s not your fault you are what you are. I’ve met your Master. I could’ve been just like you.”

The vampire brightened, lacing her fingers through the small openings in the cage and peering at Willow. “So you’ll send me back?”

“If you can behave yourself while I get some stuff for the spell, then yeah, I will. What else am I going to do with you? I can’t let them give you a soul, and you can’t stay here without one.”

Willow went to her locker to collect the candles and chicken’s feet that every good Wicca always had handy, then to the chemistry lab for some powders. She couldn’t remember exactly how many days she had been stuck in the alternate reality, and she had no idea if time passed at the same rate there as it did here, but it had to be the weekend because the school was deserted. Walking through the empty halls, she almost wished that Principal Snyder would appear and berate her for loitering. Without seeing a familiar face, it was hard to fully accept that she was home.

Back in the library, Willow arranged the candles in a large circle and set about lighting them. The vampire was silent, watching, behaving herself. When everything was in place for the spell, she rummaged through the many drawers in the Giles’ desk and finally held up the key to the cage. She also picked up a cross. The vampire’s eyes widened. “Just for protection. You understand, don’t ya?”

The vampire rolled her eyes, but nodded.

“Good.” Willow unlocked the cage and took a step back to let the door swing open. The vampire came toward her slowly as she backed up into the circle of candles. “Just lie down right in the middle there,” Willow instructed. The vampire complied, though the movements required to get on the floor looked difficult in the tight leather body suit she wore.

Willow sat down next to her and finally put the cross aside when the vampire closed her eyes, anticipating the magical journey home. She began to chant her prayer to the gods and sprinkled some powder on the vampire. The candles around them glowed brighter in response, illuminating mirror images of pale skin and flaming hair. As her chanting reached a climatic volume, Willow raised both of her arms high in the air until her hands met over her head. With her right hand, she slipped the stake she had found in the desk out of her left sleeve and, putting all her weight behind it, she plunged it into the vampire’s heart.

The vampire’s eyes and mouth flew open as if to scream in pain, and then faded into dust before a sound could pass her lips.

The victory was not sweet. Playing this deadly trick, even on a soulless monster, felt like cheating and betrayal. “We’re even now,” Willow murmured to those who had saved her life in the other world, though they would never know what she had done for them in return. Getting to her feet, she put out the candles and collected them to return them to her locker. She left the powder, figuring the chemistry lab wouldn’t miss a little borax. She went back to the desk to retrieve a few more stakes, a silver cross on a chain, and a flask of holy water. The clock on the wall and the lighted windows let Willow know that it was the middle of the day, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave unarmed. Trust issues? Maybe. She preferred to think of it as better safe than sorry. She’d been sorry too often lately.

Trying not to think about the past week, trying to feel the gratitude she knew she should feel for being home at last, she left the library to search for her friends. No doubt they’d be overjoyed to see her and she still craved some proof that they really were alive and well.

Outside the school, the other Sunnydale residents that she saw out and about looked happy and contented; expressions she couldn’t imagine on the face of anyone living in the awful place she’d been. For the first time, Willow was grateful for their naivete, it served to reinforce the reality that she was home at last. She did, however, get a few sideways glances at her outfit. Looking down at the bizarre combination of the white sweater from Darla and black leather skirt, she decided that a trip home for a change of clothes was in order before she went looking for her friends. She did not want to have to explain every detail of what had happened to her, and the leather skirt would definitely take some explaining.

Willow made it to her parent’s house without incident, finding the place uninhabited as usual. Her room was exactly as she had left it, no signs of a search for clues to her disappearance. That was just fine with her. The less explaining she had to do, the better. Reaching into her closet for a shirt, she noticed that her fingernails were dirty and that led her to wonder just when it was that she had last taken a shower. Deciding that her friends would just have to wait a little longer to find out that she was alive, she grabbed a robe and headed for the bathroom.

Flicking on the lights, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and froze, horrified. It hadn’t been just her outfit that the people outside has been looking at. She was a wreck! Her appearance wasn’t even a vague concern when she was trying to survive and find a way home. Now, in the safety of her own bathroom, she could appreciate just what her time in the other universe had done to her. Her skin was still sickly pale from losing so much blood to the Master’s attempt at turning her. The transfusions had kept her alive, but hadn’t done much for her looks. Her hair was matted and greasy, which left her feeling a little bit annoyed that none of the nurses at the hospital had bothered to loan her a brush. Of course, they hadn’t let her get out of bed to go to the bathroom either, so she hadn’t seen how bad she looked and thought to ask for one. As if that weren’t enough, the bruise on the side of her face where Xander had hit her was fading to an ugly yellowish purple and she  still had the two sets of fang marks, one on either side of her neck. They were scabbed over and beginning to scar, but if you knew anything about what you were looking at, there was no question about what they were.

Disgusted and more depressed than before, she turned away from the mirror to undress. Even looking as bad as she did, it didn’t stop her from constantly imagining all the even worse things Xander could have done to her had Darla not intervened when she did. She found herself wondering if the white hats would really stand a chance against the Master with both Xander and her vampire doppelganger gone. She truly hoped so, even if they did not care about her.

Turning on the hot water, Willow pondered having a bath instead of a shower. Soaking in a tub held a definite appeal, but she resisted. A bath was procrastination more than relaxation. As much as she wanted to see that her friends were really ok, she didn’t want to face all their questions, even though she knew she would have to, and the sooner the better. If they went back to the library and found the vampire missing, that would just cause them more distress and she had already caused them plenty of that. So, a shower it was.

The water beating down on her back was soothing and she let herself enjoy the sensation. All too soon, just the act of standing there became its own form of procrastination and when she realized it she made herself grab the soap and start trying to clean herself. The scrapes on her knees brought a fresh wave of shame and guilt as she remembered the rough concrete basement floor and why she had knelt on it. She forgot about the bruise on her face and hurt herself rubbing in her facial cleanser, but she didn’t stop rubbing. Logically, she knew the bruise wouldn’t come off, but that didn’t stop her from trying. Washing her hair proved to be quite a chore. She should’ve tried to brush out some of the knots before getting it wet, but she could only concentrate on so many things at once and her concentration was currently being maxed out on deciding how to tell her friends she was alive.

She couldn’t just show up at Buffy’s house and not risk a stake through the heart. Vampire or no, that had serious ouch potential. In their hurry to protect themselves from her, they might not stop to realize she wasn’t dead. She feared that any attempt to communicate by phone would be disregarded as a hoax, or lead to the conclusion that the vampire was out of her cage and trying to trick them. She needed some way to instantly prove she was human, like when Angel and Xander had been able to hear her heartbeat. An idea started to take shape, and a moment later she knew exactly what she would do. She could go to Angel! He would be able to tell right away that she wasn’t lying about being alive and then he could call and tell the others. Or he could go with her to tell them, protect her until she could convince them. Her lips twisted at the irony of asking him to protect her after what she had done to him in the other world, but it was really the only logical choice. He was probably  stuck at the mansion for the day so it would be easy enough to find him.

Willow abruptly finished her shower, no longer needing to procrastinate now that she had a workable plan. Even though she was anxious to go to the mansion and make sure that everything would work out, she took plenty of time to brush her teeth. She knew perfectly well where her mouth had been since she’d last tasted toothpaste and it was not a happy thought. And certainly it was one of the many things that her Angel and Xander could remain ignorant of forever.

Soon she was back in front of her closet asking the age old question, “What do I wear?” What outfit says, “Yes! I really am alive!”? How do you dress to convince old friends that you’re really just fine? She pulled out an ordinary-Willow outfit: a skirt of respectable length, a sweater with a blouse to go underneath, and tights. No, she couldn’t do it. Something about the tights. Looking at them, all bright and happy in her hands, she knew she could never wear tights again. In fact, she was sure the fuzzy pink sweater was going to see the bottom of the bin at the Salvation Army too.

She threw the rejected outfit on the floor of the closet. She found a pair of jeans that she would normally only wear to hang around the house, and pulled them on. Not pretty, but clean and comfortable. A turtleneck went on over her head, and she was ready to go. She figured everyone would eventually find out she’d been bitten, but it didn’t have to be the first thing they noticed. So, even though the turtleneck was colorful and totally contrary to her mood, it was functional in covering her neck and its secrets and thus was the perfect choice.

At last she had no more reason to linger and she set out for the mansion. Hardly anyone looked at her, a vast improvement. The California sunshine made her squint but allowed her to keep from checking over her shoulder every few seconds for a vampire. Somewhere at the back of her conscious mind she realized that standing out in the bright sunshine probably would’ve been enough to keep Buffy from attacking her, but she refused to acknowledge the logic in that argument. She’d made up her mind to see Angel first. It was the choice that made the most sense. It had absolutely nothing to do with being afraid she would cringe when Xander tried to hug her. She had no fear that she would cry when Giles showed her the warmth she had so missed. She was in no danger of falling to her knees and giving thanks when she saw that Buffy was really alive. And of course, it would not quietly kill her to see Oz and have him kiss her after the things she’d done. Not at all.

When she arrived at the mansion, she did the polite thing and knocked on the door. No one answered and at first she thought that Angel must be spending the day elsewhere. Then she remembered that sunlight kind of put a damper on a vampire being a good host and opening a door. She let herself in, calling out to him, as if he really needed to be alerted to her presence.

She saw him almost immediately, standing just beyond where the arc of sunlight fell from the doorway. He gazed at her, his mouth slightly open. She took it as a good sign that he wasn’t running for a stake to kill her immediately. Of course, even if he couldn’t hear her heartbeat, the sun shining all around her had to be a good indication that she was human. That sort of thing usually made a big impression on vampires. She closed the door, shutting out the light so that he could move freely.

Before she could smile or open her mouth to say “hi”, he was in front of her, grabbing her arms, and shaking her none too gently. “Explain this,” he demanded. “Now.”

Her quiet “eep!” of surprise alerted Angel that he was hurting her. He let go of her arms abruptly and leaned forward, sniffing her neck with undisguised revulsion. He couldn’t fail to miss the pounding of her heart, or the scent of her fear. He took a step back out of her personal space, but didn’t let her out of arm’s reach. “You’re not talking fast enough to make me happy,” he reminded her.

“Right. Um, well, you see… the vampire… that wasn’t me, well, not the real me. This is me, I’m me, I’m Willow. I was somewhere else, where the vampire came from, and… and I just got back and nobody knows yet, but I knew you’d know I’m alive, ‘cause my heart, you know, it’s beating real fast, isn’t it?” She looked at him desperately, hopefully.

He stared at her just long enough for her to start to wonder if he’d understood a word she’d said. Then his face broke out in a huge grin. “It *is* you!” he whispered, and then before she could register his words, he scooped her up in his arms, spun her around, laughing freely, and then set her down, looking a tiny bit ashamed of his boldness. “I didn’t want to believe it. I’m not really one to hold out any hope for miracles, but there you are, and it’s you!”

Willow gave him a little wave. “Yep, it’s me.”

He ushered her further into the mansion and offered her a seat, which she took. He sat right next to her, a little smile on his face, betraying his continued delight at her appearance. “Just take your time and tell me what happened. You said no one else knows you’re alive?”

Willow shook her head, “I… I thought they might try to stake me, because, you know, last time they saw me I tried to eat them. Not that that was me! But they thought it was, so I figured, better come here first and tell you since you would know right away.”

He gave her a reassuring pat on the knee, “Hey, don’t worry. You tell me how this happened, and I can explain it to them, and you can even stay here until we’re sure it’s safe for you to see them.”

She put her hand over his and looked into his eyes, meaning to thank him. In her mind she saw eyes burning with pain inflicted by Xander’s abuse, eyes ashamed by what he was forced to do to innocent children to survive, eyes hardened to her own suffering, and eyes silently agreeing that she didn’t belong in his world. How could she think Angel was the safe one? Had not her worst agonies revolved around him? Just because he was the one she felt the least closeness with in her real world, did she think the emotions wouldn’t be as strong? She couldn’t look into those eyes, identical to the ones that had seen her at her worst, and not feel as ashamed as she would were she staring at the Angel who had suffered her forced cruelties.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks before she realized she was crying. Startled, Angel produced a handkerchief and then wrapped her in his arms, rocking her and making soothing noises, though what pain he was trying to soothe, he could not begin to imagine. “You’re safe, Willow. Safe here. It’s ok. Don’t know what they did to you. I know it was bad, I can smell it. It’s ok. You don’t have to tell me yet. Just be safe with me.”

The more he tried to comfort her, the harder she cried. She didn’t deserve his kindness, his protection, or his friendship. He should hate her for what she did. Maybe he should even hurt her the way she hurt him. Would that make them even? Could anything ever make up for what she’d done? If anyone knew about atonement, it was Angel. She would tell him everything and let him decide. It would make him mad, what she’d done. He might want to hurt her, and if he did, she would let him.

He had gone to get her a glass of water. When he came back, she was shivering and so he brought her a blanket while she tried to drink. At last she had calmed down enough to talk. She left out nothing. During the entire story, she watched his face. He tried to remain impassive, aside from a few well-placed nods that let her know he was listening, but she saw the subtle signs of his anger. His jaw clenched when she described Xander’s first assault on her, and then on the captive Angel. His nostrils flared when he heard her decision to return to the basement to put off her own torment at the other Angel’s expense. And he blinked just a little too quickly at the part where the young boy was eaten and Xander played his final game with Willow before being caught by Darla.

At last she came to the part of her story that explained the odd scents about her neck. She revealed the Master’s mark as she told how she nearly died. The more she talked, the more even her voice became until it was as if she wasn’t speaking of herself any longer. It was some girl she didn’t know who had gone through this ordeal. She expressed more emotion for the sufferings of the others in the story, especially the white hats, then for her own character. Even when the tale took her up through that very day, her tone revealed no lingering fear of the danger she’d put herself in by releasing the vampire from the library cage and slaying her. She deserved no sympathy, not even her own.

Angel listened with increasing alarm as she depicted the various near-misses that could easily have ended her life. That she sat before him in one piece was more of a miracle than he had initially believed. Stranger still was that each time she described some horrendous act she had been forced to perform, she cringed as though she expected him to yell at her or even strike her.

Willow fell silent when her tale was finally told. She felt drained, weary, with the weight of her conscience dragging on her soul. Angel was quiet too, giving her a respectful moment to collect her thoughts after such startling revelations. After a time he said, “I get that you needed to tell someone all this. I’m not sure why you picked me, but if there’s anything I can do…”

He stopped, seeing the confusion and horror mixed on her face. “Why don’t you hate me?” She asked, her voice cracking at the end as she struggled to suppress a fresh bout of tears.

Angel took both of her hands in his and knelt on the floor in front of her so he could look directly in her eyes. “Willow, why would I hate you? You’re a good person and you’ve been through hell! I hate what’s happened to you, but not you. Never.”

“But what I did to you…” She pulled her hands away from his to hide her face in them. “So awful…” The tears won the battle and poured triumphantly down her cheeks. Angel moved to sit next to her again and rubbed her back while she sobbed, at a total loss for what else to do.

“Willow, that wasn’t me. And what about what happened to you? What else could you have done? Gotten killed? That wouldn’t have helped anyone. Do you know how much good you’re going to do in your life, how many people you’re going to save? I’ve seen it already. You’ve helped save the world and I know you’ll do it again. Whatever you had to do to live, it’s what had to be done.”

She lowered her hands and looked at him, searched his face for the hint of a lie, a platitude, or a single word that was less than absolute truth. She found none. She found nothing but admiration, sympathy and even a glimmer of understanding. Was this not also a soul burdened with guilt for acts it had no control over?

“You really don’t hate me? It could’ve been you. I can say that if it was you I wouldn’t have… but I would, I know it.”

He pulled her closer, holding her shaking form as tightly as he could without hurting her, wanting her to believe him with her whole heart. She tucked her head under his chin, her face buried in his chest. “No, I don’t hate you. It sounds like you didn’t even actually hurt that other Angel yourself, just… um, did some things, but they didn’t sound terrible. And how could you be expected to stop a powerful vampire from doing whatever he wants to do to his pet? It would have been suicide to try.”

“I just…”

“No, Willow, listen to me.” He moved away from her just enough to tip her face up to look at his again, making sure he had her attention. “You survived, that’s what matters. If I had to endure every single thing you just described for you to come back to us alive like you have, I would do it in a second. So would every one of your friends.”

At first she just looked astounded, and then gave him a tiny smile, wanting so badly to believe it all. “Besides,” he added. “If you’d never gone there and done those things, maybe that Angel would never have been free and those white hats would never have had a real chance at destroying the Master. Try to think about that.”

She did think about it. She thought about it then, and she thought about it again every time her conscience tried to haunt her for her time in that awful universe, and that was often. Maybe the people there were better off for her mistake in switching places with her doppelganger, or maybe they would’ve eventually defeated the Master on their own. She liked to think she’d helped a little, if only by not returning the vampire that wore her face to that world. It didn’t make the guilt she carried go away, but it made it bearable. She imagined that Angel justified his existence in much the same way, leveraging the evil deeds he’d had no control over against the good that he’d done of his own free will.

“Willow,” Angel brought her out of her musings. “It’s getting late. I have to call Buffy and tell her something to explain why there’s no vampire in the library. They’re all at her house now, but they’ll be back at the school by nightfall to check on things.”

“Just tell her that I’m alive and that the vampire was from a spell gone wrong, but I’m back now. Trust me, she won’t find that hard to believe. Details can happen later. Maybe.”

Angel took the hint. The rest of the gang would not ever know the half of what had really happened. He left her alone to make the call and was back before she had time to wonder what was being said. “They want to see you, obviously. I told them you’d meet them at the library whenever you were ready. You can go now, I know you must want to see them. I’ll follow after the sun goes down.”

Willow was torn. She wanted Angel with her when she saw her friends, but she had no right to depend on him like that. She also needed to get it over with, as she’d been telling herself all day. She already knew what would happen when she got there. She would be hugged and kissed until she smothered, begged for details until she cried, and loved until her heart broke. And there might even be cake. Some sort of ‘Congratulations on Being Alive’ party. She had no energy for any of it, yet she would endure it with a smile.

She stood up to leave and Angel stood with her. “I should go now,“ she said. She turned away, but he caught her by the hand and she looked back at him.

“You can come back, if you need to. Just to talk, you know, about anything. I don’t mind.”

This time when she looked into his face, she didn’t see the one she’d hurt, the source of her shame. This time, she saw the face of a friend, and hope for her redemption. 

~End~


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