He slid silently around the edges of the crowd, keeping to the shadows. His eyes watched the bodies on the dance floor, boys and girls playing games with mutual attraction, undulating in time to the music. Boys and girls, he thought, shaking his head. They really were just children.

He had debated whether he wanted to come back to this place, the Bronze. He had many memories of time spent here with *her*, the Slayer, back when his soul had made him her lapdog. But things were different now, very different. His soul was gone again, thanks to a particularly stupid demon who had thought it would be "fun" to mess with a souled vampire. While what he had done to that demon later wasn't enjoyable for the demon, it sure was fun for Angelus. And now he was ready for a slightly different diversion.

~ ~ ~ ~ * * * * * ~ ~ ~ ~

If anyone had thought to look in his direction, which they hadn't, they would have seen a handsome man with the face of an angel. Dark brown spiky hair, cut with style. A body that Michelangelo himself would have been honored to sculpt, and deep, dark brown eyes. His expression at that moment was one of insolence, and he wore a mocking smile on his lips, a smile which didn't quite reach into his beautiful brown eyes.

He stood on the catwalk, hanging slightly over the railing, and watched the dancers without much interest. He wasn't really hungry, just interested in a casual conquest to take back to his hotel. Maybe someone he could keep around for a bit and snack on later. But he didn't really see anyone worthy of his attention.

Then he saw something that caught his eye...a flash of red. There it was again. His eyes narrowed as they settled upon a young girl with shoulder-length red hair and a lean, tight body. She moved with abandon on the dance floor, her back to him. Angelus could see no partner for her, though. She was dancing by herself, moving to the music simply for the joy of dancing.

He frowned slightly, heavy eyebrows coming together over dark, hooded eyes. Something tickled at the back of his memory. Of course, he thought, she looks like the Slayer's friend Willow. Still, although he could not see her face, he knew that this could not be Willow. Willow was a shy, quiet, gentle girl, quite easy to overlook unless you knew she was there. She was pretty, in a soft, unspectacular sort of way, a complete contrast to the Slayer's wild beauty. Angel had never really paid much attention to her. This woman, on the other hand, danced with wild abandon on the dance floor, without a thought of who could see her or what they would think of her. It simply could not be the same person. He had to admit, however, that the general features were quite similar.

Then he noticed something that made him even more certain that this could not be Willow...this woman was a witch. A fairly powerful witch at that. He could feel the power coming off her in soft, gentle waves. This was definitely someone he wanted to get to know.

Moving slowly, languidly, as if he had all the time in the world, he made his way down the stairs and to the edge of the dance floor. The redhead was still dancing, moving her body fluidly in time to the fast beat of the song. Then the music changed and became slower, softer, sexier.

He weaved his way between the dancing bodies until he was right behind the redhead. He put his hands on her hips, drawing them back against his leather-clad thighs. He felt her jolt slightly at the contact. "Don't turn around," he whispered softly into her ear. He wanted to preserve the illusion that this was Willow, the Slayer's pet, even though he knew that it wasn't really her. Still, he felt himself get aroused by the thought that it was, that it could be. Imagine what it would do to the Slayer if he seduced her little friend. He put that thought in the back of his mind, in the drawer labeled "ways to make the bitch pay."

As the music continued to play, soft and sensuous, he pulled her even closer, grinding her rear against his growing erection. She shifted and wriggled deliciously, making him even harder. Dancing with her was a kind of torture...he knew that it would not be enough. He had to take her somewhere, somewhere more private, where he could *really* take her. Maybe back to his room.

As the music ended he tugged at her hand, gently leading her off the dance floor. He never looked back at her; he knew that she would follow his lead. And she did.

He led her out of the club's back entrance, down the alley and around a corner, away from the noise of the street, into the wet, dark, quiet alley. Without any preliminaries, he pushed her up against the wall of a building, facing away from him. His chin rested on her shoulder, his hands around her waist.

She started to open her mouth, to turn around, but he just pushed her head away from his and whispered "Shhh, not a word, do you understand?" She nodded silently and turned her face back towards the wall.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he ran his hands along the soft swell of her ass, then down lower, to her thighs. She was wearing pantyhose and a short skirt. She gasped as he shredded the pantyhose and then quickly pushed the skirt up above her hips. His eyes drank in the sight of her beautiful white-milky skin. He smiled...she wasn't wearing any underwear. Definitely his kind of woman.

He had to have her, and quickly. He quickly unzipped his pants, the sound of the zipper echoing in the empty alley. He placed his hands on either side of her head, and without any preliminaries, he pushed into her.

She was ready for him. Wet, warm, welcoming--she was all of that. As he continued to thrust into her, she pushed her hips back against him, grinding her clit against his long, hard shaft. He grunted, thrusting, pushing her hard against the brick building. Again and again he thrust into her, each time seeming to go a little deeper into her. From the grunts and the soft cries she made, he knew he was hurting her, but he didn't care. All that he cared about was achieving that feeling of release that he strived for.

Finally, he was there. He thrust deeply one last time, threw his head back and groaned loudly, then covered her body with his own as he slumped against her, spent.

He watched her as she slid down to her knees, panting heavily. He knew she hadn't come yet, but he had, and that was all that mattered to him. Hell, she's lucky she's still alive, he thought. Usually he'd have bitten her and drained her as he came, but tonight he was feeling strangely generous. He'd needed something, and she'd given it to him without any struggle. No words, no recriminations, nothing. He'd let her live, and then maybe he would run into her again some other night, when he could take his time with her, maybe return to her some of the pleasure she had given him tonight.

Not wanting to hear her words or see her face, not wanting to spoil the illusion, he left her quickly, quietly, his jacket swirling behind him. His final words, "Thanks, little one," floated towards her across the quiet night. The darkness of the night swallowed him up before he ever saw her face.

~ ~ ~ ~ * * * * * ~ ~ ~ ~

The redhead pulled herself slowly back to her feet, legs weak with fear and unsatisfied lust. She winced as she felt the pain in the muscles of her thighs and between her legs. But mostly, she was just surprised that she was still alive.

"Well," thought Willow to herself, "I guess I'd better go tell the gang that Angelus is back in town."

Willow struggled with her ski gear, trying to decide if she really wanted one last run down the mountain. Xander and Buffy had long ago admitted defeat and were snuggled in front of a warm fire in the lodge. But she so rarely got to indulge her love of the slopes and just couldn't resist going out for one last run. But one run turned into two, and then three. Now she was debating the merits of a fourth.

Now it was getting late; the sky was a dark blue, the stars just beginning to make their presence known. Snow started to fall softly, covering the tracks behind her as she made her way back up the mountain. Tomorrow they were heading home-this was her last chance. With that thought echoing in her mind, Willow decided to take one last trip down the slopes.

As Willow swooshed through the snow she felt an incredible feeling of joy. Her feet were floating across the snow; she felt like she was lighter than air. She was excited, she was alive in a way she rarely experienced, she was on fire with emotion, she was-lost, she admitted sadly.

The lightly swirling snow had quickly become a full-out storm, obscuring the usually easy-to navigate run. Nothing looked familiar anymore, and between the unfamiliar territory, the increasing darkness and the all-too-thick snow, she had completely lost track of her location. Blindly, panic starting to build in her mind, she searched in vain for a familiar sign.

Just as she was about to give up and admit defeat, she saw a bit of wood, possibly a building. Hope causing her steps to quicken, she reached the structure swiftly and was relieved to find that it was a small cabin. Although it wasn't the lodge, as she had hoped, it was still a shelter. There were no lights on inside, at least as far as she could tell. She approached the door hesitantly, unsure whether she should knock or just barge in. Finally she knocked softly on the door, waiting for a possible response. When none came, she tried the doorknob. Surprisingly enough, the door opened easily, giving a soft screech that seemed to echo throughout the small cabin.

Willow peered in, trying to make sense of the figures she saw inside. In time, she realized that directly in front her left was a large table. As she peered closer, she saw that there was a flashlight on the table. Praying that the owner of the flashlight had thought to keep strong batteries in it, the redhead flicked the switch and the flashlight sprung to life. Willow breathed a sigh of relief, not even realizing until that moment that she had been holding her breath.

As she played the beam of light around the room, she noticed many candles and matches, but no electric lights. This must be some sort of emergency cabin, she thought, probably completely empty and unused until someone needed it. Perhaps some young girl who was out and about in the middle of a snowstorm, she thought wryly.

Saying a silent prayer, she closed the door and set about lighting the candles. They were everywhere, on almost every flat surface of the cabin, and by the time she was through the room glowed with soft yellow light from every corner. There was something oddly peaceful about the scene, and the eerie silence from outside only heightened the unreality of the situation.

The cabin was one large room, sparsely furnished with the table she had noticed earlier, a comfortable-looking couch and matching chair, and a large, soft bed with a down comforter. At least she would be comfortable during her stay.

Willow sat for a bit, reading from a small book left on the table, but eventually she grew tired and dropped off to sleep.

She was awakened by the soft screech of the door opening, accompanied by a sudden cold burst of wind from outside. Good, maybe Buffy and Xander had noticed she was missing and mounted a search party, she thought.

Her eyes opened slowly, still battling asleep, but when she saw who was at the door she was instantly awake and aware. For standing just inside of the doorway were Angelus and Spike.

Willow got up quickly, looking for some avenue of escape. She had to be dreaming. That was it. There was no way that her two worst nightmares could be here when they should be miles and miles away in Sunnydale. There was absolutely no way that they could be here in this cabin, staring at her like she was going to be their dinner.

Should I pinch myself, she wondered. When you're having a dream and you want to prove it's a dream, you pinch yourself, right? Well she pinched herself until she felt a bruise starting to form on her arm. And nope, they were still there. She wasn't dreaming.

Spike looked at Angelus and grinned. "I think she thinks she's still asleep, sire." Then he looked back at Willow and added, "Hey little girl, all you have to do is ask and I'll come over and *prove* to you that you're awake."

Keeping his eyes on Willow, Angelus spoke to Spike: "Close the door before you blow all the candles out, Spike. And it's starting to get cold in here. Why don't you build us up a fire." The words were spoken as a request, but Spike knew that they were really orders. He did as requested, building a nice toasty fire while Willow stayed glued to the corner, huge green eyes watching his every move.

"What are you two doing here," she finally asked in exasperation.

It was Angelus who answered her, his voice cold and mocking, "Sunnydale just wasn't the same without you and your pesky friends. We were bored so we decided to follow you on your little trip."

"You were watching us?"

"Yes, we were," he answered, and although he didn't add them, his tone seemed to be saying, "and what are you going to do about it?"

"So we made a bet, yes, we did," Spike said, finished with the fire and now sauntering over to her side. "Tried to decide who would be foolish enough to go off by themselves first. My money was on the boy. You really disappointed me, Red. Thought you were smarter than that."

"I knew better," Angelus remarked, wandering around the room, investigating every nook and cranny. "I knew you'd get bored with them and just have to go off on your own. You're too much of a free spirit to be cooped up inside like the other two." His survey of the room finished, he came to a stop in front of Willow, in effect preventing any form of escape. Not that she was all that eager to venture out into the cold again.

"So now that you've won your bet, Angelus, perhaps you'd better collect your prize," Spike commented, giving his sire a meaningful look.

What prize, Willow thought. What was Spike talking about?

"Do you want to know what my prize is, Willow," Angelus purred, seeing the confusion in her eyes.

Willow had a funny feeling that she really did *not* want to know what his prize was, so she held her mouth shut and just looked up at him defiantly.

Angelus grinned and looked at Spike over her head, giving him a cocky wink. While Willow's attention was elsewhere, Spike had slipped up behind her and in an instant he had his cold hands on her arms, leaving her rooted to the spot.

"The prize was a kiss," he told her, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear. Before she could move, or even consider the words he'd spoken, his lips were on hers, soft and cool. She sighed involuntarily, and he took her movement as permission, slipping his tongue between her lips and into her mouth. He teased her tongue with his own, tasting her cavern and caressing the roof of her mouth. Willow felt sensations from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, and her knees suddenly felt weak and rubbery. And this was just a casual kiss, she thought to herself. What the heck could he do to me if he was really trying, she wondered?

Finally she pushed him away, scooting out from between the two vampires. "Okay, you got your kiss," she said shakily, backing away from them. "Now you can go on your merry way and leave me alone, right? Please?"

Angelus gave her his best puppy-dog look and whined, "But we're bored," then grinned at Spike, who tried to give her the same look. She wasn't buying it from Angelus, and on Spike it looked even less convincing.

"Nope, not buying it. Now get out," she demanded, stamping her foot angrily. Unfortunately for her, the only result that produced was a sudden burst of laughter from Spike, followed shortly by a similar one courtesy of Angelus.

"C'mon, luv, it's cold out there," Spike reminded her. "'Sides, we'd be lost in a minute if we went outside. Probably wake up as a pile of dust in the morning."

"And what a shame *that* would be," she shot back at him, a small grin gracing her lips.

"Now, now, sweet Willow," Angelus told her, "you are a beautiful young lady, and we are two handsome devils, if I do say so myself, at our sexual peak. Surely there's something we could do *inside* to pass the time, hmm?"

The look he gave her was pure sex, but she wasn't going to let herself be affected. Suddenly she had an idea. "You know, Angelus," she began, "I know just the thing. You two men are in luck!" She led them over to the small table in the middle of the room and sat them down opposite each other.

"It's a time-honored tradition between men and women, dating back more years than I can imagine. It's...CARDS," she exclaimed with a strangled laugh. Willow could tell that she'd surprised them and it amused the heck out of her.

"But luv, we've got no cards," Spike explained to her. He was more than willing to play the game, but if there weren't any cards, well, then it wouldn't take long.

"Yes, there are," she said breathlessly, pulling a small, slightly battered box out of one of her pockets. "See!"

"Okay, so we have cards. But if you want to play, you're going to have to sit down, Willow," Angelus reminded her.

She looked at him hesitantly, then sighed and sat in one of the remaining chairs. He did have a point, I guess, she thought. Besides, if they wanted me dead, they could have killed me a hundred times already. Might as well just try to relax and see what they're up to.

Angelus grabbed the deck and started to shuffle, the cards crackling like the fire behind them. Spike reached back and threw another log into the fireplace. Might as well be comfortable.

"Okay, the game is poker. Spike and I have played once or twice. Are you familiar with the rules Willow," he asked the young girl.

Played a few times my ass, she thought to herself. I bet he invented the game. But I have a few tricks up my sleeve as well, so he'd just better watch out. "I played it once before at a birthday party," she admitted innocently. "But I don't think I'm that good."

"Don't worry, pet," Spike told her, grinning. "We'll show you everything you need to know. Besides, it's mostly a game of luck anyway."

They had played for what seemed like days, but was probably only about an hour, each of them winning roughly an equal number of hands. After the first dozen games, Angelus had pulled a bottle of whiskey out of one of the cupboards and declared that for each game one of them lost, they would have to take a swig of the colorful liquid.

"But I'm too young," Willow had wailed.

"But Spike and I are too old," Angelus replied, mimicking her tone. "So between the three of us, it all averages out, right?"

The logic sounded a bit fuzzy to Willow, but finally she gave in and took a swig. The liquid burned a trail down her throat, making her cough and sputter several times. She stared at the two vampires angrily, daring them to make some smart-ass comment.

Before long, she had lost several games and taken several mouthfuls of the fiery liquid. Things were starting to get fuzzy, but fuzzy in a drowsy, comfortable way, so she didn't let it bother her too much. Her mind kept telling her to keep her wits about her, but her wits kept telling her that she was dead meat. If that was all they were going to do, who needed 'em, she thought to herself.

Then when Angelus complained again that he was bored and that the bed looked awfully inviting, Spike took pity on her and suggested that they try playing strip poker. Angelus seemed to be accepting of the idea, and Willow figured that it was better than being thrown on the bed with Angelus, so she acquiesced. Besides, she thought to herself, I have a lot more clothes on than either of them. They'd be naked and shivering in no time!

He *had* to be cheating, she thought. Five games in a row he'd won, and Willow was starting to get nervous. She was still fairly well clothed, but her boots, socks, and most of her accessories lay in a pile beside her seat. Spike, as well, was beginning to run out of clothing. His gleaming white chest was bare, as were his feet. He had cute toes too, she noticed, stifling a giggle.

"Something funny, luv," he asked her. Why was the chit looking at him and giggling, he wondered. She'd better keep her wits about her, or she was soon going to be as naked as he was.

Willow blushed, and then looked back at Angelus, just in time to see him do it. He *was* cheating, she realized. He was dealing off the bottom of the deck. That bastard! Then again, what did she expect? He was a demon, after all. But still, she thought indignantly.

Fine, she decided, two could play at that game. She looked at her cards and noticed that she was only one card away from a flush. That was good, right?

"One card, please," she asked Angelus.

"Just the one? You sure? You wouldn't be trying to bluff me now, would you, little girl," he asked teasingly, peering at her over his handful of cards. He had a 3 of a kind and was relatively sure that whatever she had, she wouldn't be able to beat that. The cards had been against her for most of the evening, for some strange reason. Strange indeed, he thought, grinning to himself.

"Just the one should do it," she answered back to him. As he slid her the card, she drew upon her magic, changing the card from the ace of spades to the five of diamonds. Under normal circumstances she would never stoop so low as to use magic for something like this, but the age-old adage about 'cheating a cheater' kept running through her head. I'll show him he can't mess around with me, she thought angrily.

She laid down her hand, a flush, and watched his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Then he put down his cards, 3 of a kind. Certainly a respectable hand, but it definitely wouldn't beat a flush. She grinned at Angelus triumphantly, motioning for him to lose an article of clothing. He gave her a dirty look before divested himself of his black silk shirt.

Willow's eyes were riveted to his muscular chest, watching the muscles play beneath the skin as he stretched and yawned. He was beautiful, and he knew it. He used that beauty to his own advantage, hoping that it would cloud her mind and force her to lose concentration. But instead, it only made her more determined.

Willow won the next three hands, cheating each and every time. Angelus was cheating too, but she was better at it, she told herself smugly. Before long both vampires were wearing only their pants. The redhead wondered if either of them was wearing underwear. She'd heard that some guys liked to 'go commando' as Xander called it. Guess I'll be finding out soon enough, she thought.

Then came the moment she both anticipated and feared. She knew she had the winning hand, and all that remained was for her to prove it. She put her cards down on the table, her full house beating both Spike's and Angelus' pairs easily. But as Angelus began to undo the buttons on his pants, Spike's angry voice stopped him.

"Bloody hell, little witch is cheating! I don't know how she's doin' it, but she is."

"What's that Spike? Why do you think she's cheating?"

"Me, cheating? I-I'd never do that. How dare you!"

"Look at my cards, mate. Then look at hers," he instructed, appealing to Angelus. Sure enough, the evidence was there to see. Willow's hand contained the queen of hearts, and so did Spike's.

"But, but that doesn't mean I was cheating. He could have been cheating. Or-or maybe there's an extra queen of hearts in the deck. Yes, that must be it," she babbled on, embarrassed and terrified now that she'd been caught.

"Somebody needs to be punished," crooned Angelus in a sing-song voice. "You've been a very bad girl, Willow. First cheating, and now trying to blame it on Spike. What are we going to do with you," he wondered, hands on his hips, a cruel smile on his lips.

Caught! Fine, they may have caught her, but she wasn't going to suffer for this alone. "Okay," she confessed, "I might have cheated, just a teeny tiny bit." Both vampires looked at her in surprise. "But I only started cheating because I saw *him* do it first," she exclaimed triumphantly, pointing the finger at Angelus.

How the hell had she known, he wondered. He had been extremely careful. She must be unusually observant. Very interesting.

"It's not very nice to accuse someone else of cheating, little girl," he said, getting up and towering over her still-sitting form.

"Bloody hell," Spike yelled in disgust. "Was I the only one playing a fair game here? Because if I was, then you two are in a hell of a lot of trouble."

"What can I say, Spike, I can't stand to lose," Angelus replied, smirking at the blond vampire.

"Well it looks like there are two people in this room who need to be punished," Spike growled, looking from Angelus to Willow. "What the hell am I going to do with you two?"

Angelus sauntered over to the younger vampire, his eyes on the girl all the while. He bent low and whispered seductively into Spike's ear, "I think she deserves a spanking, don't you?"

Willow gasped, eyes going wide as she calculated the distance to the door and her possibilities of getting there unharmed. Then the realization that she was dressed only in the flimsiest of shirts and leggings reminded her that if she went outside she would surely die of exposure long before she found other shelter. Fine, if that was what they wanted, then she'd play their game. But she wasn't the only one who was going to be punished.

"If I get spanked, *he* does too," she demanded, nodding towards Angelus.

"Only if you do the spanking, little one," Angelus replied, walking to stand behind her still-seated form. He placed his hands on her shoulders, nuzzling her neck and running his fingers through her ruby tresses.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're going to enjoy that way too much," she muttered, turning her head to look back into his soft brown eyes.

"Enough with the chit chat, you two," Spike spoke angrily, bringing their eyes and their attention back to him. "Ladies first, I always like to say, so let's get this started." He pushed away from the table and walked over to the large bed, sitting down on the edge and motioning for Willow to come and join him.

Legs feeling weak and full of lead, she made the short trip to the bed. Angelus followed behind her, watching the sway of her sweet body as she moved. Willow sat down next to Spike, then squealed in surprise as he grabbed her and pulled her over his lap, face down, the blood rushing to her head. She heard him laugh, delighting and reveling in her reaction. Then, just when she thought things couldn't get any worse, she felt his hands on the waistband of her leggings and underwear, pulling them down and away, leaving her soft bottom bare and exposed.

"What the-you *never* said anything about this," she screamed, horrified.

"Well how the hell am I supposed to give a decent spanking with all those damn layers of clothes, you silly twit?"

"But-but I would never have..." she hesitated, not sure exactly how she was planning on ending the sentence. Spike's fingers were tracing gentle circles on her upper thighs, making any coherent thought almost impossible to form. And the alcohol she had consumed earlier certainly wasn't making matters any easier, she thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought to herself.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you would never have blah blah blah," Spike mocked, tired of her attempts to waste time. "Here we go, Red. I'm thinking 15 swats, since you've been such a bad, bad girl. That sound about right to you, sire," he asked, looking up at Angelus for approval.

The elder vampire merely smiled, eyes too busy taking in the little redhead's torment to bother to reply. She was squirming deliciously, almost dancing on his childe's lap. And the punishment hadn't even begun yet. This was going to be a joy to watch, he thought to himself.

As the first blow fell, Willow shrieked, trying desperately to extricate herself from Spike's lap. It wasn't so much the force of the blow that bothered her, she'd felt worse. But those other times she'd been a child being punished. This time, there was a distinctly sensual feel to the blow, and that was what bothered her most.

Spike's arm, pressed solidly against her lower back, held her in a rock-solid grip, allowing her no opportunity to move. When her hands flew behind her, trying to protect herself from further blows, Angelus moved down to her side, catching both of her tiny hands in one of his and holding them away from trouble.

"Thanks mate," Spike said, giving Angelus a wink. Angelus merely smiled back at him.

Fine, thought Willow. They were ganging up on her. But that didn't mean that she had to give them the satisfaction of a response. She closed her eyes and willed her body to be still, trying not to react to the stinging hits she endured.

"Ten," she heard Spike say from a distance, as though she were elsewhere watching this happen to someone else. Two-thirds of the way there, she thought. I can do this.

"Open your eyes, little one," she heard Angelus demand, his hand on her chin, lifting it to meet his eyes. She refused, and he gripped harder, pain flooding her jaw. Her eyes flew open, green emeralds flashing against her soft white skin. They connected with his chocolate brown orbs and she saw the desire burning deep in their depths. She remembered his kiss earlier and was suddenly scared. What was this all leading to?

"Fifteen," Spike finished, resting his hand casually on her ass, tracing lines around the red marks his hands had left. Suddenly Willow was back in her own body, feeling the heat and the pain of the blows again, that wonderful feeling of disconnection regretfully gone.

No longer held in place, Willow scrambled to her feet, suddenly feeling awkward and self-conscious. She quickly pulled her clothes back on in embarrassment, unable to meet either of her companion's eyes.

Suddenly Angelus was beside her, his hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face him. How does he do that, she thought in frustration. She never heard him move; he was just suddenly there.

"My turn," he told her, a smile of anticipation on his lips.

Spike noticed her hesitation and was afraid that she might not live up to her end of the agreement. And he *definitely* wanted to see Angelus get what was coming to him. Maybe he'd just have to push her along a little.

"I don't know, Sire, she looks awfully nervous. Maybe the whole thing is just too much for her. She's just a little girl, after all."

Little girl? Little girl! She fumed silently, glaring at both vampires. Who the hell was he to be calling her a little girl? She'd show him. She'd show them both. She could do this, damn right she could.

She pointed at Angelus, finger shaking with suppressed fury. "You. On the bed," she commanded. "Now!" she added, as he looked at her in amusement. Still smiling, he made his way to the bed, unbuttoned his pants, and laid down on his stomach.

Willow, slightly unnerved by his easy acquiescence, walked over and sat down next to his casually sprawled body and tried to figure out what to do now. Oh god, I have to touch him. How do I do this, she thought frantically. Then, channeling her earlier anger, she said 'to hell with it' and just did it. Her hands reached out and slid his pants down, eyes widening at the sight of his beautiful ass. Well I guess that answers my question from earlier. Vampires go commando. Well, at least this one does.

The skin was white and pure, begging to be touched. She stared, transfixed. Suddenly she felt the need to mar his perfection. She raised her hand, and without any warning she brought it down on his ass, the sound making a sharp crack. His head jerked in surprise, not only from the lack of warning, but also because of the force she had managed to put behind the action. He found it hard to believe that such a small hand could produce such a strong blow.

Oh god, I did it, she thought to herself in surprise. And it felt *good*. Her hand tingled still, but not unpleasantly. She noticed the area where her hand had connected and saw that the skin had reddened slightly. Suddenly she wanted it all to look that color. Again and again the blows rained down, Willow concentrating on nothing except how good it felt to rid herself of all her frustrations.

Then she felt a hand curl itself around her wrist, stopping her. She looked up to see Spike standing next to her, the words, "that's enough, Pet," ringing in her ears.

"Fifteen? Already?" She heard the disappointment in her voice and shuddered to imagine what they must think of her.

"Enjoyed yourself, did you?" Angelus was sitting, looking at her with questioning eyes.

"Sorry," she murmured, looking down guiltily. "Guess I just got a little caught up in-well, everything."

Spike sat down next to her and she found herself surrounded. A vampire sandwich, she thought inanely, giggling a little.

"You didn't hear me complaining," Angelus reminded her, amusement dancing in those beautiful dark eyes. He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently down onto the bed. Then he reclined alongside her, propping up on his elbow to look down at her.

As if in slow motion, Willow saw his face come closer and closer to hers. Lust had replaced amusement in his eyes. Finally, his lips a hairsbreadth above hers, he whispered the words, "did you enjoy it?"

"Yes," she answered, the words barely a whisper. She wasn't sure if she was more shocked that she *had* enjoyed it, or that she was actually admitting it.

Angelus grinned, and then his lips met hers in a sweet, surprisingly tender kiss. His lips teased hers, encouraging her to open up to him. She complied, and as her reward she received pleasure that she could never have imagined coming from a simple kiss. Her lips were on fire, her cheeks aflame, and sensations of pure pleasure licked her body from all directions.

Suddenly she heard the words, "You're wearing entirely too many clothes," and she knew that Spike had come up next to her to help her with her "problem." She knew she should be terrified, but instead of being afraid, she felt calm and relaxed. Somehow she knew they wouldn't hurt her, wouldn't do anything except give her pleasure. Of course, the rational side of her brain was sending a 9-1-1 to the other side of her brain telling her to get the hell away from them, but the other side of her brain had decided to ignore the rational side. It had its way plenty of times...now it was her turn!

So instead of fleeing out into the night, she turned back to face Spike and helped him rid her of her shirt, and then her pants. Soon she was lying naked between them. Angelus reached for her again, his cool hands running softly over her arms, down her legs, caressing her feet. He tickled her gently, smiling as she giggled.

He stood quickly and divested himself of his clothes, settling back comfortably next to her. Their lips met again, the kiss causing shivers to run up and down her spine. She buried her hands in his hair, feeling the sharp, spikey tendrils between her fingers. Then he shifted, his head at the junction of her legs, lips licking softly at her belly button. She sighed, and then opened her legs in invitation. Never one to be impolite, Angelus took her up on her offer and before she knew it, his tongue was lapping at her entrance. He teased her lips, darting here and there until Willow was ready to growl in frustration.

Sensing her impatience, as well as her readiness, Angelus decided to give her what they both wanted. Excruciatingly slowly, he brought the head of his cock to her entrance. Slowly, gently, he pushed into her, loving the look in her eyes as she felt the length and width of him. He stayed there a minute, letting her adjust to the intrusion.

Willow closed her eyes, sensations overwhelming her. The incredible feeling of fullness amazed her. She had never felt anything like this before. Then he began to move, pulling back until he was almost out, then pushing back in until he could go no farther. She moaned softly, trying to convey with her eyes and voice how deeply she felt him.

Suddenly she felt a pair of hands on her stomach and realized that Spike was joining the game. She looked over at his mocking blue eyes and sighed, knowing that they meant to take her to the edge of pleasure together.

Spike's hands traced a path up to her breasts, and then he replaced his fingers with his lips and teeth, licking and biting her softly in conjunction with Angelus' thrusts. Willow's nipples hardened to little knobs, so tight they were almost painful. She could feel herself on the precipice, all she needed was a little more and she would be over the edge.

Angelus, sensing how close she was, sped up his thrusts, their pelvises jolting together with each plunge. Willow's orgasm rippled over her in waves, as Angelus enjoyed his release as well, spilling himself into her warm, soft body.

Finally, drained and exhausted, Willow fell into a deep sleep, her head rested comfortably on Angelus' chest, his arm holding her to him. Spike looked bitterly at the redhead and his sire and realized that once again he was on his own. He finished his work with a sigh, and then relaxed next to the other two, sleep claiming him as well.

As Willow woke she could see the sunshine spilling in underneath the closed curtains. She yawned, stretched, and took stock of her surroundings. All she saw was one large bed, empty of occupants except for her. Had she dreamed the whole thing? Then she stretched again, and her aching muscles reminded her of every minute of last night's adventure. No, it definitely hadn't been a dream.

She didn't understand why she was still alive, but she was grateful that she was. She bundled back up, left the cabin, and slowly made her way back to the lodge and her friends

The End.

In Dreams

Fred saw him standing over her, the moonlight streaming in through her open window, his shadow caressing her body like a silent lover. Was she awake, was she dreaming? She wasn't sure. Her body felt heavy, lethargic. She was caught in that twilight world that existed between slumber and awareness. But which side was she on?

Looking up at his inscrutable face, she displayed her confusion. "Angel?" she called hesitantly. There was no response from the dark figure above her. She tried again. "Wh-what's the matter? Is there something you want me to help with?"

He merely returned her gaze, his soft brown eyes giving away nothing. Was he real, or just a figment of her overactive imagination? She had always been attracted to him, had fantasized about him, but was that what this was? Or was it something more? Something real?

Slowly Fred closed her eyes, her auburn lashes resting against her cheeks. 'If I open my eyes and he's still there,' she decided, 'then this must be real. Right?' Her eyes opened slowly, hesitantly, and he was still there. Was she happy or disappointed? Maybe a little of both.

She tried to sit up, to move towards him, but soft silken restraints kept her arms in place. Looking down her slight, naked body, she realized that her legs were similarly fettered, attached by silken bonds to the posts at the foot of the bed, leaving her body open and exposed. They weren't painful, did not bite into her yielding skin as sharp metal would, but they did keep her from moving, from escaping this soft prison.

Finally Angel moved, bending over her to press a soft, chaste kiss to her plaint lips. She started to speak, but he simply put a cool finger to her lips and told her, "Shhh."

She felt the bed dip slightly as it accepted his weight. Sitting next to her, he watched her with those same expressionless eyes. Strangely, she did not feel afraid. In all that had happened since her return from Pylea, Angel had been the one constant in her life. The one person she could trust, no matter what. Her mind held tightly to that thought, trying to ignore the bonds that held her in place.

The finger resting on her lips moved slowly, beginning to trace gentle circles on her slightly parted lips. Dipping into her mouth, his digit emerged, slightly wet, working its way to her jaw; her neck; her throat. Stopping briefly to tease her pulse-point with a slight increase of pressure, his finger again took up its downward passage, stopping as it reached the valley between her breasts.

Fred's breathing became labored, as if her body was forgetting how to draw in air while it was concentrating on that one finger. Again she looked up at Angel, allowing his eyes to capture hers. Unable to look away, she saw his growing desire there, his hard brown eyes turning to melted chocolate, and she knew that he was seeing the same look in her eyes. As strange as this situation was, she could feel the arousal awakening in her body, the desire growing in that spot between her legs.

She strained slightly against the bonds, hoping the movement would convince him to release her. Instead, he looked at her with amusement, giving her a small shake of his head, as if he were chastising a young child.

Returning his attention to his finger, he let it trace a path to her right breast, watching it rise and fall in time with her quick, shallow breaths. "Relax, Fred, or you're going to hyperventilate," he whispered, amusement lifting the corners of his mouth into a slight smile. The sound of his voice mingled with the sounds of her breathing, seeming loud in the quiet of her room.

'Good,' she thought, 'he's speaking. Which means that she could speak, and he wouldn't get mad or all fangy. Well, hopefully.'

"Wh-what are you doing, Angel? Why? I don't understand," she told him, apprehension and confusion leaking out in her voice alongside the words.

"Because you need it. Because you need to start living again," he told her softly. "Just relax, enjoy, give yourself up to the sensations. Let me do this for you."

His quiet words stunned her. Seeing her stillness and misjudging it as acquiescence, he began moving his finger again, tracing circles around her breast. Slowly, he lowered a second finger, then a third. Then, at last, his hand was cupping her, his thumb whispering across her nipple. As she watched, he bent his head, and using his tongue and teeth, he nipped the tight nub, teasing it and causing it to strain upright, as if asking for more.

Fred couldn't help herself, she moaned deeply, passion and sensation overwhelming the intelligent, analytical thought on which she prided herself. She wanted him; wanted what he was making her feel. There would be consequences, surely, but right now she didn't care. There was plenty of time tomorrow to worry about that.

Arching up towards him as much as her bonds would allow, she gave him what encouragement she could. Angel seemed to understand, his eyes burning deep into her own, before he bent back down to continue his work. His lips enveloped her breast, the suction of his entire mouth bringing it into his mouth. The sensations caused by the cool cavern were driving her crazy. Her head thrashed back and forth, out of control, her legs clenching and unclenching as she tried to bring herself relief.

Finally, just when she thought she could stand it no longer, she felt his mouth release her, the sudden cold air shocking on her wet breast. His teeth gave one last tug on her nipple before tracing a path down her stomach, blunt teeth biting here and there, then stopping to nibble around the edge of her bellybutton.

'So close, so very close,' Fred's fevered mind thought, her senses reeling from his attack. Her nostrils flared, inundated with the scent of his sweet-smelling hair and sandalwood skin. Her ears strained, catching the sound of her racing heart and the small gasps she made as he discovered new places and different techniques for demanding her awareness.

Sensing her lack of attention, he gripped a small amount of skin with his teeth, biting hard enough to cause her to start, but not hard enough to hurt her...much. He looked up at her through half-closed lids, noting that her own eyes were wide open and wild.

Releasing her skin, he broke off the contact, moving his head down even lower, his tongue licking and teasing the curls of her sex and the pale flesh below. Her mouth gave soft mews, her body craving the relief she was so sure he was about to give her.

Placing his body at the entrance of her cunt, he swirled his tongue around her labia, tasting the sweet scent and flavor of her arousal. She smelled like wildflowers drizzled in honey, sweet and natural. Hardening his tongue, he plunged it into her sex, her passage filled with liquid heat, the heat slowly warming his cold tongue.

Fred felt his tongue enter her and groaned at the icy sensation, shivers of pleasure and cold traveling up and down her spine. As her channel warmed his tongue, she felt other sensations begin. Slowly, gently, he began to lick her, his rough tongue feeling like soft sandpaper against her passage. She clenched and released her hands, arching her hips in an effort to escape the feel of his raspy tongue and the sensations of sensual pain it was bringing her. 'It's too intense,' she thought, her body confused by the pleasure and pain of his actions.

Finally, he withdrew his tongue, swiftly thrusting two fingers into her wetness. With his thumb, he found her clit, lightly running a fingernail along the surface of it, repeating the action when he heard her breath catch and her heartbeat increase yet again. Slowly he withdrew the two fingers from inside her, running them lightly along the top wall of her channel as he went. Then, when they were almost out, he drove them back in deeply, setting up an even rhythm of thrusting. In the meantime, his remaining fingers and thumb continued to tease her clit, pinching and pulling it gently.

As her pulse increased and her moans became a steady stream of sound, he realized that she was nearing her peak. Bending his head down again, he ran his raspy tongue along her clit, the texture and feel of the action sending her over the edge. Her body tensed, then exploded, the sensations starting at that place between her legs, then flowing outward like a tidal wave.

As the sensations subsided, Fred closed her eyes, her body struck with a quiet lassitude. Without realizing it, she sank into unconsciousness and a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

It was dawn when she awoke again, the quiet sounds of the morning beginning to penetrate her unconscious mind, dragging it out of the dark and demanding attention like a small child. Fred stretched, feeling the muscles of her body flex and relax as she thought about the day ahead.

Suddenly, memories of her nocturnal visitor rushed into her mind like a rip tide, threatening to pull her under. She sat up quickly, looking to the corners of the bed but seeing no sign of the restraints she remembered being there. Looking down her body, she realized that she was wearing her nightgown, not naked as she remembered being earlier. Had any of it really happened, or had it just been an incredibly realistic dream, a fantasy her mind had come up with to make her happy?

Needing answers of some kind, Fred walked quietly to her door and put her ear to the crack, waiting to hear any sounds from outside. Hearing nothing, the slim brunette slowly opened the door, ready to jump back inside at the first sight of...well, anything.

Seeing nothing that alarmed her, she crept down the hall, coming to a halt outside of Angel's door. She stood outside, ear pressed to the door, waiting to hear sounds of breathing or snoring. 'Silly,' she scolded herself silently, 'he's a vampire. When he sleeps, he sleeps like the dead. 'Cuz, well, he is.'

Opening the door slowly, Fred slipped quietly inside before easing the door closed again. She stood there for a moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the velvety darkness, until she could make out his still form on the large bed. She stayed there watching him, uncertain, looking for any outward sign that what she remembered really *had* happened.

She was too afraid to wake him up for no reason. Angel would think she was crazy, she just knew it. Maybe he'd chalk it up to some delayed reaction to her experiences in Pylea. Finally, confused and frustrated, she gave a small sigh and turned to leave. As her hand reached out for the door, she heard him shift in his bed, his covers falling away to reveal the white expanse of his chest. Her eyes fluttered back to his face and she saw his eyes open and catch her own.

"What is it, Fred?" His voice was neutral, neither concerned nor surprised to see her here in his bedroom in the early dawn.

The brunette stood silently, biting her lower lip, unsure of what to say. She couldn't just ask him outright, it just wasn't in her to do that. Finally she turned back to the door, saying softly, "Go back to sleep, Angel. It was nothing."

She left him there, allowing sleep claim him once again.

It must have all been a dream...

The End.

She used to worry that she'd retreat so deep into her fantasy world that the real one wouldn't exist anymore. It would just slowly and silently slip away. She doesn't worry about that anymore. There's no longer anything, or anyone, waiting for her in this world. Just sadness and pain.

They sat quietly on the couch, the soft light of the fire dancing along her red hair, turning it into liquid copper. Hundreds of candles lit every corner of the room, casting shadows of the vampire and his witch. His voice was warm and seductive as he read to her. She sat on his lap, arms around his neck, following the words on the page with her eyes, as her ears were seduced by the sound of his soft voice. She moved her hands, using them to frame his face, as she pulled his lips towards hers for a deep kiss.

"Willow," he groaned, "I'll never finish this chapter if you don't stop that. You promised you'd be a good girl and let me read to you."

"Don't wanna," she purred, pressing her lips against his ear. She teased him, nipping and sucking the lobe into her mouth, then releasing it so that she could kiss a trail of fire down his neck. She loved his neck. The way the cold column of flesh felt against her warm lips, the way it smelled like him, just him, with nothing added to ruin his special scent.

Finally he gave in, turning his body so that he faced her, his soft brown eyes smiling into her sparkling green ones. Willow knew he loved her like this, playful and teasing, yet gentle. He could never resist her. And she thanked whoever was in the sky above her that he loved her.

It seemed like Willow had loved him ever since the first day she met him. She had seen his face, and every single emotion she had ever felt for Xander became a shadow of a feeling, while her passion for him had become a strong, raging fire, devouring everyone and anyone in its path. A fire that she had had to hide for a long time for fear of hurting Buffy-her best friend, and her most bitter rival. Not that Buffy had ever guessed the feelings that she felt for Angel. The rivalry between them had gone on entirely in Willow's mind. But now it didn't matter.

"Well if you're not going to play fair, my love, shall we go upstairs and finish this in more comfortable surroundings?"

She sighed, reluctant to leave the warmth of the fire. Yet she knew how much fun they could have in the bedroom. Especially when Angel was appropriately inspired. With a grin, she held her hand out to him, and together they race up the steps. It was a little game they played, a fight for control-whoever got to the bedroom first got to be on top. He usually lets her win, gave her the illusion that she was the one in charge. But she'd seen him in action. She knows what he could do if he really wanted.

This time Willow decided to let him win, and as they tumbled together into the bedroom, she quickly pulled off her clothes. Shirt, pants, bra, and socks; they all went flying in her haste to be naked, to be under him. She flung herself down on the bed to wait for him.

Though he was just as eager as she was, he was always much neater. Willow growled in frustration as he slowly took off his shoes and placed his shirt on a hanger. She suspected that he did this deliberately, just to make her crazy. Finally she could wait no longer. She jumped up and grabbed his arm, pulling him onto the bed. "You can fold your freakin' pants later!" she told him as she grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the bed.

"So young and so impatient," he rebuked her teasingly, his lips curved into a loving smile.

"Shut up and make love to me."

"If the lady insists," Angel murmured, leaning over her prone body.

He started at the tip of her head, paying homage to her body with his lips. Craving more, her hands reached out for him, but he simply grabbed them in one of his larger hands and held them over her head. She smiled knowingly. He was telling her that she may have initiated this game, but he would be the one to make the rules. He gave her a warning glance then let go of her hands. She smiled. She knew the rules. Keeping her hands above her head, she played his game.

She moaned as he continued down her body. Her lips, her throat, the valley between her breasts, all received attention as he continued his pilgrimage. He reached her pert breasts, teasing them with his tongue and teeth. She groaned as her nipples hardened. The sensations seemed to start at her breasts but ended *everywhere*, making her feel warm and satisfied. He bit her nipple gently, startling her, and then moved to the other side, repeating the process.

With one last taste of her nipple, his lips moved further down, stopping to tickle her belly button with his tongue. She sighed, arching her back and pressing her stomach against his cold lips. He was driving her crazy, but in the best possible way.

Finally reaching her hips, his lips dipped between her legs, his nose nuzzling in her hair, breathing deeply of her scent. His tongue, his wonderfully talented tongue, snaked out and touched her center teasingly, just the lightest of touches. She moaned, trying to push his tongue further into her.

"Not yet, my love. Not until I say the word," he warned her. He sat back up, his erect cock high in the air. He held it and guided it into her.

"ANGEL! "
She screamed, pain exploding outward like wildfire from where the whip bit into the tender flesh of her shoulder. Ripped from her comfortable dream world, she returned to what had become her life.

"What did you just call me, bitch?"

"Ang-Angelus," she stuttered, pain and weariness making her falter uncertainly.

She was naked, chained with her arms above her head, feet barely able to touch the floor. He stood in front of her, an elegant figure in red silk and black leather. He is beautiful, just like in her dreams.

He swaggered towards her, his features enraged. Grabbing her chin with cruel fingers, he used it to pull her towards him, his face mere inches from her own.

"Don't lie to me," he yelled at her, the sound echoing in the basement he used as a dungeon. He pushed her away, letting her body swing back and forth, the pressure on her arms and shoulders almost unbearable. Taking a couple of steps back, he cracked the whip against the floor experimentally. Then he looked at her again and she knew what was coming.

He hit her over and over as she swayed this way and that, screaming hoarsely as the whip cut into her stomach, her shoulder, her buttocks, her breasts. He stopped occasionally to lick at the tendrils of blood running down her body, his tongue almost tender in its attentions. But just as soon as she would begin to relax, to feel something besides the unceasing pain, he would bite her. Not a gentle insertion of fangs, but a deep painful bite with blunt teeth. His aim was not to break the skin, but to cause the largest amount of pain possible.

"You taste wonderful," Angelus told her appreciatively. "Has anyone ever told you that," he wondered, not really expecting a reply.

After a while he got bored with that game and went back to the whip. Once again, her screams filled the room, bouncing off the walls to mingle with his demented laughter.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he stopped. "Thanks for the workout, little one. I'll be around later." Without even looking back at her, he stalked away, taking the stairs two at a time. He left her alone with her thoughts.

What had started it? When had it all gone so terribly wrong? She didn't know. And it really didn't matter to her now. Nothing mattered now. Nothing would ever matter again.

They first realized something was wrong when they read about Cordelia's murder. She had been beaten, raped and then drained. He had carved a stylized "A" into her hip, leaving a message for all who knew him. Next he went after Gunn, Fred, and Wesley. Same tortures, same "A" on the bodies.

By then the Sunnydale contingent had caught wind of it. Even with that knowledge, he was able to pick them off easily. First Anya then Giles, taken one night while working late at the Magic Box. Finally, in a blaze of fighting and taunting, he had killed Buffy. Xander and Willow did the only thing they could. They fled.

He caught up with them about a week later, sleeping in a car on the side of the road outside of a small town in Montana. One minute she was sleeping, the next minute she was watching Angelus break a window and drag Xander out of the car. Well, only far enough out so that he could tear out the boy's throat, leaving him by the side of the road, the blood oozing from the hole in his throat staining the gray gravel to red.

Willow remembered staring brokenheartedly at the body of her last remaining friend, terror rooting her to the spot. So this is how my life ends, she thought. But Angelus had other plans for her, something much more sinister and painful. He was going to allow her to live.

Her thoughts raced back to the here and now when she heard the familiar sound of the door opening. No, her mind screamed, not again. It was too soon. Surely he couldn't be back already, she thought desperately.

He entered the room silently, like the predator he was, his eyes riveted to hers. She wondered what was it he saw when he looked into her eyes. What was she to him? Was she just a new toy yet to be broken, or was it something deeper? A way at striking back at his soul and a form of vengeance against all those years the demon was locked away, unable to be in control?

"Did you miss me, little one?" He circled her body, watching her eyes grow panicked as he stepped behind her, beyond where her eyes were able to follow him. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his nose rubbing against the sweep of her neck.

Quietly he stripped off his pants, his already erect member standing proudly. Putting his hands on her hips to steady her, he thrust into her dry anus.

Willow screamed at the unexpected intrusion. He had given her no warning, no idea what was in store for her. Once he was inside her, he rode her roughly, thrusting in and out rapidly, her blood quickly providing lubrication.

The pain became slightly more bearable as her body adjusted to the size of his cock. Sensing this, he changed his tactics. Pulling back until only the head of his cock remained inside her still, he suddenly thrust forward, slamming into her as fast and as far as he could. A fresh scream and free-flowing tears were his reward. Grinding his cock into her again, he started taunting her.

"Your body is wonderful, Willow. So tight and sexy and warm. I could do this all night. Would you like that?"

She was silent, except for the soft moans of pain that escaped from her mouth. Annoyed by her lack of response, Angelus reached around her to cup her breasts. He used his hands to tease her nipples, his fingers moving gently, making promises to her body that she knew he never meant to keep.

Sure enough, once the nipples had hardened, he started plucking and twisting them savagely, holding them away from her body and then twisting and releasing them, allowing them to bounce back against her chest. It hurt, but not nearly as much as the rest of what he was doing.

He kept up his pace, thrusting deeply into her again and again, for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was, there was no way she would ever know. Finally growing bored, he gave one final thrust and held himself in her, feeling his cold sperm coat the inside of her aching passage.

"Well that wasn't bad, but I was hoping for a bit more enthusiasm on your end," he told her with mock regret in his voice. "I'll just have to punish you for that later. Something for us both to look forward to, hmm, little one?"

With that, he quickly pulled out of her, put on his pants, and walked up the stairs with a spring in his step. Hearing the door close behind him, she tried to relax, her mind once again floating back to a safer place.

She knew that sooner or later he would break her. Her mind would leave her body for that dream world and it wouldn't come back. And when that day came, when she ceased to entertain him with her screams and whimpers of pain, he would kill her.

She just hoped it would happen soon.