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 3

Days passed, though how many Willow wasn’t sure. Being stuck in a windowless, clockless room didn’t make it easy to keep track of time. She supposed if the amount of time Angelus had visited her was any record, then she had been his captive for a couple of weeks.

Not that it mattered anymore. Time no longer existed in Willow’s universe. Her world was dominated by the strong, hard body of Angelus; by sharp fangs and dark, piercing eyes. By bottles of champagne and silver platters of strawberries. By handcuffs and forceful assaults on her body that would always leave her feverishly hot and unsatisfied. In the past week, Angelus had explored just about every inch of her body with his tongue, at least, every inch of her body above her waist. He would spend up to an hour getting her worked up, despite her reservations, and then leave her on the peak, denying her any form of release.

The previous night, Willow had gotten so desperate she had flung her pride aside and resorted to begging. Pulling herself onto her knees, Willow had reached for Angelus’ retreating form, crying out for him to stay. Sneering, he’d pushed her onto her back and taken her, his mouth enveloping her nipple, his fangs piercing the skin of her breasts. The last thing Willow remembered were her tears mixing with the bloody rivulets dripping from Angelus’ mouth as he kissed her into unconsciousness.

Now Willow was alone. As always, she had awoken to find a tray of food and orange juice by the bed. Only a few hours had passed since she had awoken and she had yet to touch it. Instead, she lay with her head buried beneath the pillows, trying hard not to think of anything at all, less her thoughts lead to tears.

It was now that Willow realized what Angelus meant to do with to her. He wasn’t going to torture her with a chainsaw and knives; none of that conventional stuff would do. No, he was going to drive her crazy with her own wanton desires. He would make her want him by appealing to the purely animalistic desire that existed in her, and it would work because, after all, she was only human.

Already it was working. He had Willow begging; he had her quivering under his touch. He had her waiting for his visits, wondering if this time he would finally make good on the promises his tongue made. The heat of his touch was driving Willow insane. Though it brought her shame during the daylight hours, when she was left alone to contemplate her actions, Willow couldn’t help her body’s response to his various caresses.

And now, after the previous nights behavior, Willow was forcing herself to deny the one comfort she had. The past week, her saving grace from total insanity had come while sge was sleeping, spending her daylight hours in dreams where Angel was constantly at her side to comfort her. Her visits with Angelus during her waking hours were almost inevitably followed by visits with Angel while her body was unconscious, trying hard to recover from the damage Angelus would inflict. These dream moments with Angel, where he would comfort and talk to her, helping to stave off the insanity over her present situation, were what helped her during those lonely daylight hours. Only now, Willow couldn’t even have that. After last night, Willow couldn’t face Angel. Not when she had shoved her pride and dignity aside for sexual desire. Willow was doing a good enough job berating herself over her actions and desires, she couldn’t face Angel’s recriminations and disappointment in her.

So, in order to avoid Angel, Willow had to avoid sleep. It was difficult, especially after the amount of blood Angelus had taken from her the previous evening. He would be back that night, and he would drink from her again. And if she didn’t get any rest during the day there was no way her body would be recovered enough to handle the loss of more blood. To make matters worse, not only was Willow denying herself sleep, but she couldn’t eat. Just looking at the food make her throat fill with bile. Willow had taken on the responsibility of punishing herself and she wasn’t going to back down, even if it meant pretty much signing her own death warrant. Tonight’s visit with Angelus, with her already so weak, would be too much too handle. But maybe that was for the best.

With each passing hour, Willow grew weaker, until she no longer had the strength to remain conscious. As her eyes fluttered closed, Willow had one last thought. <I only hope Angel forgives me. I didn’t mean to be attracted to Angelus. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. >
 
 

Angelus was restless, though why, he wasn’t quite sure. His plans for tormenting the slayer couldn’t have been going better. The usually spunky slayer had undergone a drastic personality change in the weeks since Angelus had kidnapped the little witch. As the days morphed into weeks, most of the life had drained out of the slayer. She now sported regular bags under her eyes, was showing physical wear around the edges, and her usual biting quips hadn’t been quite up to par. Each of these signs Angelus drank in with relish, knowing her was the cause. The indomitable Buffy was crumbling under what she considered her failure. Her failure to protect Willow and then her failure to rescue her. Angelus knew that it would only take a couple of more weeks before Buffy had a total breakdown. He chuckled deep in his throat, satisfaction and the taste of victory lifting his spirits immensely.

Yet the satisfaction of his imminent triumph over the slayer wasn’t the only thing Angelus was feeling. Beneath the satisfaction and devilish glee ran deeper emotions, ones the demon preferred not to dwell on. Thoughts of his captive witch brought a burning rage to the demon. The demon knew he was getting attached to the witch, each visit with her affecting Angelus in ways beyond the expected sexual pleasure. There was no doubt about it, the witch had an amazing body. He would never understand why she continually chose to keep it hidden under all those baggy clothes of hers. Angelus received great pleasure in viewing Willow’s naked flesh. Unlike the slayer, who was all hard muscles and toned physique, Willow was pure woman. Every inch of her flesh was soft and pleasing to the touch. She was all sensuous curves and beguiling femininity. Angelus could lose himself in the soft curve of her throat for hours. With each passing day she was holding him as much captive as he was her,

Enraged at the thought Angelus shot up from the satin sheets his bed and began to pace before the huge mahogany doorway to his bedroom. Angelus wasn’t quite sure what this hold Willow had over him meant, but he did know one thing. The demon in him didn’t like it. There was no doubt in his mind. The girl would have to be killed. As soon as he was through using her to destroy the slayer, he would drink from her for the last time. He just hoped that he would drink from her for the last time. He just hoped that by then it wouldn’t be too late.

Pushing that thought away, Angelus emerged from his bedroom to begin his night of slayer terrorization. But first… a quick visit with the witch couldn’t hurt. He was hungry, and a vision of cypress eyes and creamy skin was haunting his mind. Smiling, Angelus headed towards the cemetery.
 
 

Ten minutes after leaving the mansion, Angelus received the shock of his life. He knew the moment he descended underground, below the carefully selected crypt that housed the entrance to the special room Angelus had built just for Willow, that something wasn’t right. With the trained eyes of a predator, Angelus glared at the fresh track marks laid by feet too small to be his own. Feeling his entire body tense, Angelus lifted his head to sniff slightly at the air. Beneath the smell of damp earth, a subtler, sweeter scent permeated the air. Angelus immediately recognized it as Lilacs. With what would have been described as panic in anyone else yet, of course, Angelus never panicked, the demon tore down the earthen tunnel, trying to tell himself that the scent could not be from Buffy’s perfume.

When he was 50 feet away from the door, Angelus knew for certain that the witch was gone. He could see the heavy iron door was open, which Willow could never have opened on her own, even if Angelus hadn’t been feeding from her nightly for weeks. Angelus ran the remaining 50 feet and burst into the room.

Aside from the open door and the fact that the room was now empty, there weren’t any other disturbances. Everything was exactly as he had left it the previous night, minus one red headed witch. The sight of the bare bed helped bring the rage that had been building inside of him, sparked by the scent of Buffy’s perfume, to the surface. The fact that he could still pick up the lingering scent of Willow’s blood only added to his fury as he proceeded to trash the room, a mixture of animalistic growls and quite human expletives pouring from his mouth.

In his mind’s eye he saw the slayer, not as she usually looked, but the way she would when he got through with her. When he had her coughing up bone splinters and begging for her pitiful life. Then he would make the little witch pay for trying to escape him. He’d been holding himself back when he was with her, enjoying the torture he inflicted by denying her an orgasm at his hands. Now he wouldn’t reign himself in. When he had her back he was going to fuck her till she couldn’t walk. He didn’t give two shits if she was a virgin. He was going to tear the walls of her vagina and make her scream with pleasure. Then, maybe just for the hell of it, he’d turn her so he could spend centuries, taking his sweet time, to punish her. The thought was satisfying and the demon went out to begin his hunt with the sound of Willow’s screams filling his mind.