SPOILERS: This takes place after Angel loses his soul but before Becoming, which never happened in my 'verse. I will keep and discard Buffy lore as I see fit.

Part 2

Throughout the remainder of the night and the following day, Willow moved in and out of consciousness. At times, nonsensical dreams pervaded Willow's mind. Familiar faces: Xander, Buffy, Oz, Giles, slipped through Willow's thoughts but she could never hold on to them. It was like trying to grasp grains of sand from the breeze. However, there was one dominant image that kept returning. Every time she slipped into deep unconscious sleep Angel joined her.

Her eyelids weighed heavy against her cheeks, but Willow could see farther than the boundaries of optical darkness. Foregrounded in her mind and her sight was Angel. Throughout her sleep, he comforted her. He wrapped Willow's mind and soul with his essence. She wiped the tears from his eyes when he cried and apologized for getting her into this situation. Willow tried to wipe the guilt away along with those bloody tears. She could never blame him. Not in this place where their souls met, where there could be no pain. She felt none of the chains of human emotions. Nothing but love pervaded her soul's existence.

The pain only came when Willow slipped into consciousness and out of the dream state where love and Angel existed as one. As the dreams faded, Angel faded along with them, leaving Willow's memories and her thoughts empty, only to be filled by the painful aching of her sore body.

It wasn't until the next evening that Willow was pulled out of her dreams for the last time. It took her several minutes before she could open her eyes and when she did there was a red haze that colored her vision making it almost impossible to see.

Willow tried to stretch and felt every muscle in her body screaming in protest. <Oh no, I'm gonna be feeling this for at least a week. >

As Willow's vision cleared, her other senses began to return. Willow's brain slowly processed the scent of roses. Confused, Willow blinked and looked around the room, trying to find the source of the wonderful scent. Pulling herself slowly into a sitting position, Willow realized that she was lying in a literal bed of roses. Cupping a handful of multi-colored rose petals, Willow let them slip lazily through her fingers, to mix once again with the pile around her. <Who would have done this? >

Willow continued to stretch and with surprise she realized she was no longer handcuffed to the bed. Her arms and legs were free. Of course, her body still pounded out a steady rhythm of pain and so she doubted she could even use this advantage farther from relaxing her sore muscles. She was pretty certain she wouldn't be able to get out of bed anytime soon.

Gazing around the room, Willow saw she was alone. Her eyes fell on to the dresser next to the bed. A tall, inviting glass of orange juice lay just out of reach. Willow's mouth began to water. As Willow clucked her tongue, trying to clear her mouth of the incessant dryness, she carefully rolled closer to the dresser, her fingers grasping for the cool glass. With great effort, Willow pulled herself into a semi-sitting position and brought the glass to her mouth. Each sip revitalized her, spreading like liquid ice through her veins, chasing away bits and pieces of lethargy. <I never knew Orange Juice could taste this good. It may be my favorite drink after this whole experience. >

When the juice was finished, Willow allowed herself to slump down into the comfortable pillows, her body's movement displacing the roses. Willow could feel sleepiness lurking at the recesses of her mind, waiting to snatch her up again, but, first,

Willow had some things she needed to consider. Memories of the other night, however long ago that night had been, danced through her mind. Willow was still very much afraid of Angelus. He may not have killed her then but she harbored no illusions that she might be saved or that he'd develop a heart and let her go. His very nature was evil and so it was only a matter of time before he killed her, or worse.

<There's always the chance he vamps you, or drives you crazy like Drusilla. > Willow shuddered at the thought.

Willow jerked her head up, wincing at the pain from her sore muscles, at the sound of the heavy iron door being pushed open. Spiky brown tufts followed by a flash of dark, mischievous eyes filled Willow's vision as Angel stepped into the room, carelessly shoving the door closed behind him as if it weighed nothing. His eyes smoldered as he stood casually by the door, taking in Willow's frozen form. "It looks like my little birdie is finally awake. What say thee raven, was your sleep a peaceful one?"

Willow blinked as she tried to gage his mood. As usual, it was unreadable. His voice was a silky purr that gave the illusion of pleasure, but his eyes flashed with a fire that took Willow's breath away, chilling her to the bone. Whatever he was thinking, he definitely had something in mind for her tonight. She could tell by the way he stalked the perimeter of the bed, each step purposeful and well timed.

That was something Willow had begun to notice, and even appreciate about Angelus. He exuded a calculated control and calm, at least when he wasn't in a rage, that impressed Willow. Angel had always been the strong, silent type. Angelus, by contrast, was sharp-tongued, and obviously quite clever. Every movement, every word, every look, seemed to be calculated for efficiency of motion and of result. It was obvious to Willow that a brilliant mind lied in the fathomless depths of his eyes. It was a shame, really, that it was used entirely for evil. Willow couldn't help but wonder at the accomplishments Angel would have made in the world, for the world, if it hadn't been for Darla.

Angelus stopped once he reached Willow's side and took a seat at the edge of the bed, his body angled so that he hovered over her. He didn't say anything, and Willow realized he was waiting for her to answer his question. "I'm fine," she croaked, fearful of the predatory glint in his deep-set eyes. <There's another thing you gotta appreciate... not everyone is gifted with such gorgeous, expressive eyes. Too bad they're not expressing a plan to leave me alone for the night. >

"My poor Willow, you're throat is all hoarse. Now what on earth could have caused that?" A slow, deliberate smile complimented the sarcasm in his voice, and Willow felt her temper flare despite her fear. <What the hell does he think he's doing, patronizing me, why, if my limbs weren't so weak right now... and, uh, if he wasn't a sadistic vampire who killed at a moment's notice, I'd slap him. >

Angelus ignored Willow's fuming and placed a hand onto her stomach, and for the first time, Willow realized that she wasn't wearing her clothes anymore. Sometime, while she was unconscious, Angelus must have undressed her, because all she was wearing now was her black lace bra and matching panties. Willow felt the heat rising in her cheeks as her eyes took in the bra she had brought on a whim a few weeks ago with Buffy. The only reason she had put it on was because she had been planning to see Oz the other night and well, the bra had made her feel beautiful. All it did now was make her painfully aware of how much skin she was exposing. Her nipples were readily visible through the lace pattern for anyone to gaze upon, and, at the moment, anyone counted for Angelus. His gaze was lascivious as his eyes roamed over her chest. His deft fingers traced circles on her stomach, making her shiver.

Angelus lowered his head until Willow could feel his cold lips against her bare skin, grazing the valley between her breasts. "Has anyone ever told you how much black lace suits you Willow. The contrast with your pale skin is really quite stunning... enough to take a man's breathe away."

Willow drew in a sharp breath and tried to scamper out from under Angelus, but she soon found it impossible. His body was now on top of hers, holding her captive. While Willow struggled futilely against Angelus, he continued his oral exploration of her breasts. His tongue darted between the lace, suckling at the warm skin with infantile exuberance. He carefully avoided her nipples, preferring to tease her through denial of what she wanted.

And she did want it. Without meaning to, Willow's body was responding to him. Her breathing and heart rate had quickened, and not just from fear, but becoming an irregular, uncontrollable testament to her desire. When his tongue danced across one of her nipples on it's way to her other breast, Willow couldn't stop the moan that escaped from her lips.

Willow knew it was wrong to be feeling this way, especially with Angelus. Not only did she have a boyfriend, not only was this Buffy's ex-boyfriend, but this was a demon. The only pleasure he knew was that which he sought for himself, sadistically stealing it from others, and so she shouldn't be feeling pleasure from him. Her mind knew this much, but her body responded to a different sort of logic. The desire that coursed through her veins at his presence was one as old as man, one as old as animals.

At this moment in time, reason abandoned Willow and she lusted for him.

<All right, I'd better stop this before things get out of hand... before I let him do something to me that I... > Before Willow could even finish her thought, her mind shut down; all rational, comprehensible thought held ransom by the fire that was flaring throughout her body. His lips had abandoned her breasts to his hands, moving on to explore the flat contours of her lower stomach.

Willow began to writhe beneath Angelus, one hand gripping the bed sheets beneath her, the other hooking itself onto the silky strands of Angelus' hair. His tongue had sensitized Willow, causing the pads of her palms to tingle at the feel of his hear beneath them. <Oh my God, if only his tongue can do this to me, I don't think I can handle anything else. >

Abruptly, Angelus broke all contact with Willow's body, gracefully rising from the bed in a single movement. A feral light shone in his eyes, his lips curled in a cruel, self-satisfied smile. "Well, well, well, looks like Willow the cat is alive. My little alleycat in her black lace bra and panties." Chuckling, Angelus left, leaving a flushed and panting Willow alone in her bed of roses.