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 21

**Peace is what they tell me Love am I unholy Lies are what they tell me Despise you that control me

The peace is dead in my soul I have blamed the reason for my intentions poor Yes I'm the one who the only one who Would carry on this far

Torn, I'm filthy Born in my own misery Stole all that you gave me Control you claim you save me**
**"Torn"- by Creed**

Angelus was worried.

He wasn't scared because Angelus didn't get scared. That sort of weakness belonged to his soulful counterpart, and as far as he was concerned, it was best left with him. Once a man, or vampire for that matter, was weakened then he was an easy target for fate to come and kick your ass back down with the rest of the pussys who gave in to weakness. Angelus prided himself in being a pillar of strength, a master of destroying all seeds of potential weakness before they had a chance to take root; any embers were extinguished before their flames could span out of control, becoming an unstoppable blaze that would burn him alive. Kill, main, destroy- whatever it took to remain on top, he would do it.

Only now he was beginning to worry, and the feeling was incompatible with his innate cockiness. He wasn't quite sure what to do now that he wasn't completely in control of a situation. This was unfamiliar territory for the Master Vampire, and it was making him feel ineffectual for the first time ever (not including his wimpy soul infested days, but he didn't count that part of his life as himself anyway).

He glanced at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand for the tenth time in as many minutes. Cursing under his breath, Angelus resumed his restless pacing. He'd been on his feet trying to burn off his nervous energy for the past hour but it wasn't doing any good. Never before had he been so physically aggravated by his forced captivity during daylight hours, and Buffy's incessant chattering was literally driving him up the wall. As in life, it seemed the only time the bitch shut up was when he was in the midst of slamming himself in to her mouth. That was one thing you couldn't take away from the Slayer. She had a mouth like a vacuum, almost as if she had been born to perform that particular act.

Even now, the bitch was trying to get his attention, laying spread eagle on the bed as she ran her hands over her naked flesh, hoping to tantalize him enough to forget the fact that the Witch was over an hour late. The stupid twit didn't seem to realize that he wasn't in the mood. Not for her- especially when he was stuck indoors without any idea where Willow, the only woman he did want, was.

Immediately he regretted allowing her to go out by herself during the day. He had figured it was safe enough. At least during the day there was no chance of some idiot Fledging mistaking her for an easy target, especially since he hadn't completely established his dominance in this city yet. Besides, she had shown no signs of being even close to regaining her memories. He figured that if the news of Angel's death hadn't been enough to disrupt her repression then he was safe from losing his new, compliant Willow, for the time being anyway. Plus, not allowing her to go anywhere without his company when he was supposed to be playing the good boyfriend didn't seem like the greatest idea. Now he wished he'd been more strict in keeping her close to him at all times. Before today it hadn't been a problem. Willow had never been more than a minute late in returning home. Now she was an hour and fifteen minutes late and he was stuck here for another half-hour before sundown. Until then he would be unable to do anything but sit here and come up with a million different scenarios for her absence.

The three most likely explanations he'd come up with were all equally disturbing, though none were unfixable. First, Willow could have been kidnapped by some unwitting serial killer/rapist who had no clue as to just whose property he was messing with. If that was the case then the unsuspecting bastard was in for quite a surprise. Even if he hadn't touched Willow, he wouldn't live to see another sunrise. Angelus was already reveling in the pleasure he'd receive from making the bone splinter's fly as he beat the life out of the guy.

The second possibility was that one of those hapless friends of hers from Sunnydale had somehow tracked them down and made off with his woman while she was safely away from him. If it was anyone then he figured it was that stuttering fool of a Watcher or that hormonal boy who was too dumb to recognize that he was in love with her. He should have killed those two bumbling idiots when he had the chance, but if it turned out they were the ones interfering with his plans then he'd track them down and rectify his previous slight.

The third and least frightening possibility (Oh God, did he just think that. Fuck, if he was beginning to get frightened over this then he was really in trouble), was that somehow, something had triggered Willow's memory while she was out and she now knew the truth. If that was the case then she had probably headed out of LA as soon as she'd remembered everything. If her memories had returned then he'd be back where he'd started, but that scenario was the most preferable. After all, he loved a challenge. It was just too bad he hadn't fucked her before her escape. Man, he would have loved to watch her eat herself up with guilt at having been deflowered by the man she hated most in the world.

There was a fourth possibility- one that he didn't even want to consider, perhaps because the more the thought tugged at the back of his mind, the more likely it seemed to be the correct explanation. If it was true then it meant the Witch had fooled him and he didn't like to consider the possibility that anyone had pulled one over on Angelus. He was the cunning one, the one who tricked people in to believing that whatever face he showed them was his true face. If the Witch had really pulled off such a deception then he had grossly underestimated her. Of course, he'd be too busy dolling out some punishment to express any admiration over her near impossible accomplishment.

With realizing it, Angelus' pacing was now being accompanied by a growling that emanated from deep within his throat, aural evidence of his growing fury. An hour and thirty minutes late and 15 minutes before he could safely venture outside. If took every ounce of his survival instinct not to tear down the door right that second and hunt down his prey.

The closer it got to sundown, the more positive Angelus was his red-haired temptress had been faking the entire time, just waiting for her opportunity to escape. Each step he took as he paced acted as an external barometer for the murderous rage that was gaining strength within him, burning his insides with the heat of a full blown fire. His mind became flooded with pictures of the lessons he would have to teach her. He'd taken it easy on her in the past. He'd allowed her to be insolent, but he'd show her who was Master. So far she'd been protected from the full-blown rage the demon nursed inside him when things didn't go his way. Not even when he'd first returned and been battling with Buffy had he let his demon slip back into the old patterns of utter hatred and destruction it had followed in the past. She might have read about it in those stupid Watcher's diaries, but she had no idea just how very bad it could be. Now she'd witness it- live, uncensored, and completely up close and personal. She'd learn the hard but oh so fun way. He'd have her begging with her very soul for mercy.

Weakness. He could feel it rotting away his strength like a disease, infecting him with the need and desire he felt for her. She had made him weak, but he wasn't going to allow it to continue. If he had to cut himself open to remove her from his system he'd do it. Or maybe he'd just cut into her. Either way she was going to pay. Tonight. He would become her weakness, not the other way around, and then things would be as they should again. The demon would be sated. One minute left. Impatient, Angelus stalked towards the door, ready to fling it open and begin the hunt. He never made it halfway there.

Pain exploded behind his eyeballs. Searingly hot, blinding the vampire as he fell to his knees. His vision disappeared in a burst of white light that was inescapable in its brilliance. The pain rushed through his body, travelling the path of veins and musculature with deliberate purpose, feeding into the core of his heart before imploding. Every crevice of his body felt as if it was being torn from the inside out, doubling him over as he lost control of every motor function. Buffy screamed as her sire began to jerk and twitch uncontrollably, as if a live wire had been placed in direct correspondence with the bundle of nerves in his lower spine. The picture he made was incomparable to the actual raw agony he was in. Nothing earthly could ever be the cause of what he was undergoing.

The demon screamed in denial, recognizing with a dreaded familiarity the pain it had experience only once before. If it could have fought it would have, but there was no fighting this. Before long every rational thought had been emptied from his head. All he could do was feel, and soon enough he stopped doing even that. A power forged from the heavens itself traveled through Angelus' body with immeasurable speed and devastating effects. Golden lightening flashed within the unfathomable depths of his eyes and with a quickness that matched how it had begun, it was over. An eternity that added up to only a minute of human time.

As his body lay prone on the floor with a stillness reserved only for the truly dead, Buffy rushed to his side. One look at her sire's face, transformed by an all too human guilt and suffering, told her all she needed to know. Crying out her denial, Buffy turned and ran, unable to deal with the impossible that had suddenly become reality. She left Angel alone, crying out with his very soul as his mind, body, heart and soul became one again.

In the wake of the memories, he cried out for the one woman who could share the burden of his pain and lead him down the path of recovery. "Willow! God no! No, please no. Willoooooooooooooooooooooooooooow."