Part 1


As Angelus paced the room aggressively, there was a lot on his mind. He had been restored to his former self last night, courtesy of that idiotic Slayer: irony was a beautiful thing. It was sickening that his souled counterpart could find perfect happiness with that ridiculous creature, but who was he to complain? It served his purposes well.

He had a plan to formulate and no time to waste thinking about annoying, though accommodating, Slayers, he chided himself impatiently. His childer were entertaining themselves with The Judge, so he could worry about them later, once he’d achieved his goal.

Thinking of ‘his goal’ excited him as he continued to pace his richly appointed hotel room. Earlier in the evening, at the high school, holding Willow close, as he taunted the Slayer, his number one priority became clear: obtaining Willow.

Sappy humans called it love at first sight. Angelus snorted and rolled his eyes at such an absurd notion. What had happened to him as he held the delectable Willow was…chemistry, destiny. He just *knew*. Knew she was meant for him. Angelus didn’t understand it, he wouldn’t even try to. It simply *was*. Of course, *she* didn’t know it yet, but he wasn’t the sort to let that be an obstacle. She would find out soon enough.

God, she was magnificent. In order to win this game, he’d have to be more clever and devious than he ever had before. She was a smart one, that prize he coveted. Not winning Willow wasn’t a consideration. This undertaking required all of his skills as a master manipulator: he’d use intelligence, charm, charisma, finesse and seduction in overcoming her objections and closing the deal. In the end, her submission to him would be by choice. He could taste the victory already. He was completely qualified for the task, he thought cockily. SHE WOULD BE HIS.

He paused and grinned broadly. She was such an unassuming little miss. It pleased him that nobody but him seemed aware of her potential…including her. He would foster and nurture her natural gifts and the world would see that *his* woman was without equal.

He couldn’t even count the number of things that attracted him to her. She physically resembled the fiery haired, petite framed Irish lasses with flawless complexions that he’d been attracted to as a human young man. God knows he’d been chasing, seducing and fucking them every chance he got from the time he was old enough to get it up. She was beautiful, brilliant and had fascinating depths that others were too blind to see. Not *everyone*, he clarified to himself. Angel saw it. Angelus dropped into a chair and roared with laughter. It was too rich. Wouldn’t that little bitch Slayer be surprised to know of the depraved fantasies her beloved pet vampire had of scrumptious Willow? Especially the night Angel had gone to her house to consult about Ford. Yes indeed, the normally pussy whipped soul *did* impress Angelus on occasion. The boy had had dirty, dirty thoughts of the redhead the entire time he was in her bedroom. It’s a wonder he didn’t rub himself raw jerking off to the erotic scenarios he’d built around that little visit! And that was just to name one such occasion. Numerous times Angel’s imagination had gone off on wicked mental tangents involving Willow. As someone with many hidden layers himself, the soul recognized a kindred spirit. Since vampires are highly sexual creatures, Angel had more difficulty suppressing his sexual appetites than the bloodlust, for chrissake. Willow certainly fit the bill as his type. Sure, the damned fool *loved* Buffy, Angelus shuddered at the thought, but since time immemorial, a certain type of redhead had turned his head and fueled his lustful fantasies. Willow was like the ladies of his day; gentle, demure, chaste…she embodied the qualities of the gently bred ladies, who inspired chivalry and respect. Buffy on the other hand…well, no matter how much of the new ways he was exposed to, the fact still remained that he was from another time. Buffy more closely resembled the trollops he had fucked up against the walls of taverns in dirty alleys. She wore clothing that exposed her tits and legs to the eyes of any man. Angelus shook his head and thought it was a wonder Angel hadn’t become as nutty as Dru with all those mixed signals going through his brain: love for the slutty looking Slayer, lust for the ladylike Willow. Yes, one fucked up boy his soul was. Angelus felt fortunate he hadn’t returned to a body with a mind turned to schizophrenic mush from conflicting desires.

While it was tremendously amusing to think about how Angel had fooled everyone into thinking he was such a ‘good boy’, when the whole time he’d been having impure thoughts of the virtuous Willow, more important matters required his full attention.

Angelus settled into the chair to think, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. It was vitally important to capture Willow very soon. He had frightened her earlier at the school, that hadn’t helped his case. But what was done was done. Now he had to get to her before she had a chance to fully absorb the change in him. The entire group would still be off balance and that worked in his favor. He banged his head against the back of the chair a couple of times in frustration. Willow would be aware of how he’d treated Buffy at Angel’s apartment. Teenaged girls shared everything with their best friends. At the time, an opportunity to hurt the vulnerable Slayer had been too irresistible to pass up. He smirked: Buffy’s pain had been delicious and so very satisfying…her pathetic display had been a joy to behold. The memory was too sweet, he couldn’t regret his behavior. No, he’d work around the two strikes against him. Actually, he thought with relief, his restraint had been admirable. All he had done was hurt the Slayer and frighten Willow…well, as far as *they* knew, anyway, which was all that counted. In retrospect he was immensely pleased with himself for not making meals of the Watcher and the insufferable boy. *Those* would’ve been acts Willow wouldn’t forgive. Angelus snarled and clutched the arms of the chair in pique: it pissed him off that Willow was infatuated with Xander, that undeserving, lowly pissant. Regaining his composure and suppressing the jealous surge, he reflected on the upside of Willow’s attraction to the stupid boy. Her insecurities were what caused her to believe she didn’t deserve better. The moron’s inability to see her as an attractive female was beneficial. Angel had been smelling that hateful cheerleader on Xander for awhile, now. Willow’s discovering the relationship this very night was perfect. She was hurt and angry…her devastation could only work in his favor. Angelus chuckled smugly, he was pleased he had overheard that little tidbit. If he hadn’t been in the right place at the right time, he wouldn’t even know that Willow was aware of Xander and Cordelia’s involvement. Willow’s poor self image would be at an all time low. She had been mocked and ridiculed since early childhood, and factoring in the neglect of her parents, Willow was primed for his plans for her. *Nobody* in that girls life was worthy of her, they didn’t deserve to lick her boots. Angelus scowled. The boy she adored had betrayed her with the person who had been cruelest of all to her. He was definitely of two minds about this: on the one hand, he wanted to torture and kill everyone who had dared hurt his chosen mate…on the other hand, they had facilitated him by causing her to be insecure and ideally malleable.

Yes, Willow’s life experience up to this point played into his hands perfect. He had a unique understanding of her complexities. She’d spent a lifetime surrounded by imbeciles incapable of seeing how extraordinary she was. Outside: delicate, timeless beauty…the kind that often went unnoticed until adulthood. Inside: great strength, intelligence and an indomitable will. Unkindness towards her had been met with resilience and acceptance; through a multitude of indignities she had remained positive and upbeat. The girl had backbone, class and character in spades. A weaker individual would’ve been destroyed or beaten down. Willow *appeared* fragile and timid, but the reality was a far cry from that. Upon meeting the Slayer and discovering the ugly truth of the Hellmouth, she had swallowed her fear and joined the fight. God knows he’d been aware of each occasion Willow had felt fear in Angel’s presence, he thought with a snort. Fear was always an appealing scent to vampires, but Willow’s, in particular, made Angel’s cock stand at attention *every time* he was near enough to experience it. Angelus took a moment to relish the feelings of self hatred and shame Angel experienced at those moments: good times, those…a two for one treat for the demon within. When confronted with adversity, Willow didn’t run and hide, no, his girl valiantly soldiered on. Angelus felt a rush of intense pride in the woman who was his destiny. Rubbing his hands together in gleeful anticipation of his bright future, he felt buoyant.

An unwelcome thought spoiled the moment and he pulled a face. Grimacing and growling, he conceded that a great deal of his knowledge of the ‘inner Willow’ had come as a result of the vacuous Slayer’s constant blabbering to Angel. Buffy, it seemed, was incapable of the unexpressed thought: while a sure sign of idiocy, it had proven a veritable fountain of information regarding Willow’s life. And Angel’s acute powers of observation had gifted Angelus with the key. The empty room filled with his laughter as he thought about how heartsick the soul would be if he knew *his* insight to Willow’s inner passion and unexpressed rage enabled him, Angelus, to open the door that would unleash the components that would ultimately fulfill Willow’s potential. Raising his eyebrows in resignation and sighing, Angelus admitted he owed Buffy and Angel a debt of gratitude. They had unwittingly been the architects of his future. Knowing they would hate having been contributors to his cause lessened the sting of the admission. After all, Angelus was ever the pragmatic demon. His superiority was a direct result of allowing himself to derive benefits from *all* his resources…Liam, Angel and himself. Angel had been so pathetic and maddening, Angelus thought with disgust, never wanting to access his full accumulation of experience and knowledge, instead residing in denial, broodiness and guilt. The good news was, Angel had never been *near* the tool in aiding the Slayer he could’ve been. Angelus smiled brightly at that thought…every cloud had a silver lining.

Angelus’ mind returned to more practical matters. Angel had considered the vast fortune Angelus had amassed as blood money. Inexplicably (and fortuitously), while it made the soul loath to spend it, it had not prevented him from managing it. Thank God for small favors. Accumulating wealth had never been difficult for him, but not having to waste time securing it now helped tremendously.

Thinking about the obsequious agent he’d hired to locate a secluded residential property earlier, Angelus felt confident that a location for harboring his captive would be found soon: promised bonuses for working through the night were effective no matter *what* century it was. Stretching his legs out, he sighed contentedly. It had been a most productive evening. Lackeys had been hired to see that Willow’s and his needs would be met adequately. He himself had seen to quite a successful shopping spree. The wheels of progress were well greased. All would be in readiness for tomorrow night. Angelus placed his hands on his thighs and smiled complacently, he was a superb planner and first rate strategist, even if he did say so himself.

He felt almost…what? Giddy! He felt giddy…like an excited bridegroom. Well, that was fitting, after a fashion. Very soon he would have Willow and could begin her ‘reconditioning’. He would penetrate her ‘insecure child’ shell in order to tap into the strong woman he *knew* was waiting to surface. I’m just moving up the timetable, he thought, in a few years she would’ve evolved and found it herself. No longer would so-called family and friends hold his precious girl back. There was a confident, assertive woman within Willow just itching to emerge. I know it with every fiber of my being, Angelus crowed to himself triumphantly.

Pursing his lips, he admitted he was getting a little ahead of himself in his excitement. There was a ways to go yet. Earlier, at the school, the little darling had been scared shitless in his arms. That was no deterrent, he would fix that. Groaning and squirming in his chair, he relived the other scents present as Willow’s tight, high ass had been pressed against him. In spite of her fear, she had felt desire…*intense* desire. That little vixen was full of surprises. Mmmm, he planned to be enjoying surprises she provided for a very long time to come, he thought, stroking the erection elicited by the memory and his ruminations.

Angelus propelled himself out of the chair, since sitting had become uncomfortable, and resumed pacing. Unfastening his pants as he went, he mumbled to himself about the incompatibility of leather pants and raging hard-ons. Lust was only one of the feelings Willow inspired in him. The rest were new territory for the cynical vampire. Being a slave to his feelings for Willow, like Spike was to Dru, was unacceptable. Of course, he reassured himself, nobody need ever *know* of the ‘kinder, gentler’ aspects residing in his heart for his intended. Feeling something and showing it were entirely different matters. Tipping one’s hand was not how games were won.

Acknowledging predestination and acting on it were not surrender. Lack of experience in this area left him uncertain of the roles he and Willow would play in each others lives. Uncertainty really burned his ass. All he knew for sure was that whatever the rules would be…*he* would be their creator.

Even an irresistible force could be dominated. Superior intellect and strategic ability would give him the tools to build whatever it was he and Willow would become. New possibilities were exhilarating. An unexpected challenge like this, after so many years on this earth!

His deft hand would guide Willow’s burgeoning potential. In the end they would be something great.

For 150 years he’d been part of a ‘power couple’. His relationship with Darla hadn’t had the necessary elements to be the ultimate, though. Certainly not due to anything lacking on *his* part, he thought derisively.

This time he’d be creating something new and better than there’d ever been before.

Eventually concessions would have to be made. Angelus let out a thunderous growl and kicked a small table across the room. A partnership or relationship of any consequence required compromise by both parties. He stalked the broken table and gave it another kick. Giving ground was not his forte. Willow wasn’t the only one about to embark on a learning curve.

Angelus reeled in his temper and focused. His fate was tied to Willow’s. He’d seen many different kinds of couples and knew that existence and victory didn’t mean nearly as much if you didn’t have someone to share them with. In the end, it wasn’t about dominion, it was about sharing the power: equals complementing each other. Evidently mating instinct caught everyone in its snare eventually…he was not immune. While Angelus was monumentally pissed off that sacrifices on his part would be required at some point, he could take solace in knowing that Willow wouldn’t know that for quite some time to come. Somehow Willow was the catalyst for his ascension to unprecedented power. Not completely understanding it *did not* undermine his control, he told himself fiercely. He was and would remain the master of his domain.

Since beating the living hell out of her didn’t meet his present agenda, he funneled his overwrought emotions to a more constructive direction. Self control reasserting itself, he began to think instead of the gratification to be found in his immediate future. The distant future would be dealt with when the time came.

That girl *did* drive him to distraction; she was like a luscious peach ripe for the picking. Oh yeah, he thought as a wave of desire rolled over him, he was going to be the lucky fruit picker. Those big, crystal clear eyes of hers; imagining them clouded with lust for him made him hard as a rock. Nothing was more erotic to him than being the source of uncontrollable desire to one previously untouched and pure as the wind driven snow. *He* would be the one to teach her *everything*. The fantasy caused such urgency, he nearly ripped his pants in his rush to get his hand on his achingly stiff dick. He roughly pumped himself with visions of his virgin turned wanton playing in his head. He saw himself driving into her, her incredible eyes glazed with desire for him. He threw his head back and growled, he could hear her beg, “Angelus! Yes! Fuck me! Please!” He came in a series of jerks and grunts with Willow’s imagined voice still ringing in his ears.

The shrill sound of the telephone jarred him back to reality. “This better be good news,” he snapped as he reached out to answer the call.

end part 1