Title: Passion Play
Author: Tammy Moore
Distribution:Anyone, but tell me first, kay?
Disclaimer:All characters belong to Joss/Mutant Enemy and WB. I don't any
of them and I'm making no money from this story (I just wish) and no
copyright infringement is intended.
Summary:Angelus is being a stalker, Willow's being a stalkee and Angel's not
a happy camper.
Spoilers: Becoming
Rating:NC13
Feedback: Feedback is welcome but you'd better be polite. Flame me and I'll
send Angelus round to see you.

Passion Play

Willow walked home slowly, her hands shoved into the pockets of her coat and
her shoulders hunched protectively as she flinched from the deepening
shadows. Shivering she pushed her tangled red hair out of her face, tucking
the wayward strands behind her ears. She wished Xander or Buffy had had the
time to walk home with her but she hadn't liked to ask. Cordelia had issued
a royal declaration that Xander was to spend the evening at her house since
her parents were gone. As for Buffy, sighing at the thought of her best
friend Willow dropped her eyes to her feet, ever since Angelus had returned
Buffy hadn't been herself. Her moods fluctuating between despair and a
desperate hope that they would find a cure for Angelus before she had to
kill him. Tonight the former emotion had her in its grip and she'd gone to
beat the heck out of some vampires in the hopes of exorcising her own
demons. So Willow walked home alone, her heart thumping so fast in her
chest that she felt nauseous and light headed.

It was strange, even after she'd learned of the dangers and demons of the
Hellmouth she'd never been afraid, not for herself at least. Oh, she'd
worried about what might happen to Buffy or Xander, even Cordelia once she
joined their little group, but never herself. No matter how late it got, or
how deserted the streets she'd always felt safe.

Now, ever since Angelus came back, she'd been afraid all the time. It was
probably her imagination but she felt like he was always there, watching her
from the shadows.
* * * *

Angelus had trailed her since she'd left the school, anger roiling in his
stomach that those fools were letting her walk home alone. Didn't they know
how her innocence, her purity, called to the demons that ruled Sunnydale by
night? When he was still that ensouled fool Angel he'd had to fight to
protect her nearly every night. Angelus' reputation was enough to keep most
of the demons at bay, few cared to risk crossing him even for the pleasure
of destroying a soul as bright as Willow's, the few who cared to press the
issue usually came to a short and messy end. Still, her supposed friends
didn't know that Willow was under his protection and they still let her walk
home alone.

Noticing a young fledging watching her from the shadows Angelus bared his
fangs, his face morphing into it's game face as he warned the weaker vampire
off. Watching the already pale youngster turn the blue of a waterlogged
corpse made Angelus chuckle deeply, a sound with little humor in it.

As the young vampire ran off, in search of prey less formidably protected,
Angelus returned his gaze to the street. A dark scowl furrowed his brow as
he realized that Willow was nowhere in sight.

She was his, he thought savagely as his lips pulled back from his teeth in a
wholly unconscious snarl, had any other demonspawn laid hands on her they
would regret it for the rest of their short existence. Increasing his pace
to a lope he rounded the corner, freezing and blending into the shadows as
he saw her standing by the fence that surrounded her house. Leaning back
against the wall he watched her, enjoying the opportunity to observe her at
his leisure.

The darkness suited her, shadowing her coppery tresses to bloody crimson and
giving her eyes a secretive cast that they lacked in the daylight. At night
she looked how he imagined she would appear once he changed her. He smiled
lazily, running his fingers idly down the fabric of his shirt as he
fantasized of hunting with Willow. Watching her after the hunt as she bent
over her prey, crimson locks tangled and unruly and her pale, ethereal
features dripping with blood. His eyes darkened with desire and his body
tensed as he fought the urge to step forward, to stake his claim on her now
for the world to see.

Not yet, he reminded himself as he forced his body to relax against the wall
once more, not until he'd killed the Slayer. He'd kill Buffy and then come
here to claim Willow; they could celebrate his success together. He waited
until she entered her house, safe from most of the demons that haunted
Sunnydale. Except for me, he reminded himself, enjoying the thrill of
intimacy that shuddered through him when he thought of his ability to enter
her home, of her vulnerability to him.

"Later, Willow." He whispered, staring up at her bedroom window as he saw
the light come on. "You belong to me, you always have."

Turning away from the house he loped away into the darkness, the blood lust
that he'd controlled until he saw Willow safe home demanding that he satisfy
it. Perhaps he'd take one of those vapid girls that attended Buffy's
school, rub her nose in her inability to defeat him.
* * * *

Angel struggled against the bars that kept him confined deep within his own
mind, a silent and impotent observer to everything that Angelus did. He
failed, as he always did, to even increase his freedom an iota. He
continued, as he always did, to struggle on.

He watched with a heavy heart as Angelus drained and turned a pretty young
woman, leaving her ravaged body lying carelessly on the pavement. He
wouldn't let Angelus do that to Willow, he swore fervently to himself. She
didn't deserve it, of them all she didn't deserve. Summoning an image of
her to his mind, her long hair tucked back behind her ears and her eyes
flashing with righteous indignation as she chided Giles and himself for
their treatment of Buffy.

Every since the first time he'd seen her, so many years ago now, she had
been the embodiment of everything good and pure to him. Willow's nights,
ever since her second year of life, had been guarded and warded by him. He,
the silent and unsuspected observer, probably knew her better than anyone.
Her sweetness, the stubborn spirit that hid under her shy façade and the
selflessness that had made her the heart and soul of the Slayerettes, he
knew it all.

The idea that such goodness could be destroyed, stolen from the world and
defiled by the demon that wore her one time protector's body, was
unacceptable.

Not Willow. Angel repeated to himself, settling down in this tiny walled
off portion on his unconscious and watching Angelus' kills with distant
pain. Never her, no matter what it took.

Passion Play (Part Two)

"Mom?" Willow called, one hand resting against the doorframe as she
waited hopefully for her mother to answer. When the house remained silent
she sighed, resigned to another night spent in the house on her own.
Sometimes she actually wondered if her parents existed or if they were some
sort of hallucination created by the Hellmouth. "I certainly never get to
see them."

Heading up to her room she tossed her bookbag onto the table by the door,
staring at her perfectly tidy room with a slightly pained expression on her
face. It was at times like this that she envied Buffy so much that it was
almost a physical pain. Not the beauty and charm that drew people to Buffy
wherever she went, certainly not her status as the Chosen One and not even
Xander's devotion to his dream girl. No, Willow envied Buffy the amount of
people who cared about her, who cared about something as small and seemingly
insignificant as how her room looked.

Once, when she thirteen, she remembered being over at Xander's house with
Jesse when Mrs Harris had started yelling at Xander to clean up his pigsty
of a room. Xander had been mortified, especially when his mother had stood
over him to supervise, Jesse had been amused at his friend's predicament.
Willow, though, had been fascinated at the idea of anything that could focus
your mother's attention on you for so long. When she'd gotten home she'd
started her campaign to create her own pig sty. Within less than a week she
had no clean clothes to wear, her room was covered with rubbish and dirty
plates and her mother was …totally oblivious. Willow had stuck it out for
another week, despite her instinctive disgust for living in the squalor, but
no one had even entered her room in that time.

Her lips quirked into a one sided smile suddenly as she remembered that the
only person to even notice her little rebellion had been Cordelia. It had
been Cordelia's jibes about her spreading disease that had finally persuaded
her to cave in and tidy the place up herself.

Pulling her sweater over her head she tossed it casually onto the floor,
taking a certain bitter satisfaction in the knowledge that it would lie
there until she picked it up. Kicking off her shoes she padded bare foot
into the bathroom, determined to shake off the unaccustomedly somber mood
that was hounding her.
* * * *

Wiping the remains of his dinner away from his mouth Angelus let the pretty,
blond girl drop carelessly to the ground. She stared up at him with rapidly
glazing eyes as her heart faltered and stopped, her last thoughts of terror
and pain. To Angelus she was nothing, she had been chosen because he
reminded her of Buffy but once he had drained her she was dismissed from his
mind. He didn't even stay around to watch her death, his mind already
turning to the subject that obsessed him more and more of late. Willow.

He loped quickly through the streets of Sunnydale, intent on getting to her
house as quickly as possible. He had seen her parents driving out of town
earlier and Xander and Buffy were patrolling in the graveyard so she would
be alone tonight. A frisson of delight ran along his nerve endings at the
thought of her alone and vulnerable in a house that he had access to. He
had planned to leave her until after he'd dealt with Buffy but killing the
Slayer was more difficult that he had planned. It was taking too long and
he just couldn't wait any longer, Willow would be his tonight.

"Patience never was my strong suit." He muttered to himself as he reached
her house, his eyes glittering with hunger as he stared up at her lit up
window. Alone and unsuspecting she'd be an easy target, his before the hour
was through. A smile twisted his features, his game face briefly flickering
into place before he dismissed it. "Never thought I'd have that
Slayer-whipped soul boy to thank for anything."

Clambering up the old tree that grew outside Willow's room with the loose
limbed grace of a predator he crouched in the branches staring into her
room. He waited patiently, watching as the unsuspecting young hacker
wandered round her room, letting the anticipation build to an almost painful
level.

She was sitting cross legged on the floor, engrossed in a huge, leather
bound book . She was prepared for bed, her long red hair twisted into a
loose knot and her slender frame clad in baggy red and white pyjamas. It
didn't surprise Angelus that she was still up though. She was already
almost as much of a night owl as he was, chronic insomnia keeping her up
most nights till after four o'clock.

He watched avidly as she closed the heavy book, brushing a strand of loose
hair away from her face and rising gracefully to her feet. He doubted that
she had any idea of how sensual she looked as she stretched, unabashed and
luxurious as a cat, her head lolling back on her neck and her t-shirt riding
up to reveal the pale, smooth skin of her stomach.

As she turned away from the window, moving towards the computer where an
electronic Buffy was repeatedly beating a pixel built Moloch, Angelus made
his move. Jumping onto the balcony he smashed the doors open, crossing the
room in two long strides and grabbing Willow by the arms before she even had
time to turn to see what happened.

"Hello, Kitten." He whispered, pulling her back tightly against his body
and rubbing his cheek against her disarranged hair. He chuckled, low and
deep and intimate, at her quiet, stifled whimper of fear and shock. "Did
you miss me?"

In his prison Angel screamed his enraged denial, battering himself against
the bars of his prison until even his immaterial body was aching and sore.
Collapsing to the ground he shuddered, the pain that wracked his soul too
great to express.

For the first time, just as he was about to witness her death at his hands,
he admitted to himself how much he loved her. He'd spent years protecting
her from the dangers of the Hellmouth, especially from the threat of his
love. She was everything pure and good in his life, he hadn't wanted to
sully her with his crimes and his guilt.

But he did love her, more than he'd ever cared for anything in his whole
life. He'd only initiated the meeting with Buffy in the hopes of getting a
chance to spend time with Willow, even if it was only as a tolerated and
distrusted ally. He had never dreamed that she would grace him with her
friendship, never dreamed that she could see past what he was to who he was.

I should have told her. He thought with aching regret as he watched Angelus
manhandling her frail form. I shouldn't have wasted my time pursuing Buffy
and playing cryptic games with them. She was my life and she should have
known that.

Blessed Mary, he whispered reverently, let her be OK. He hadn't prayed in
centuries, not since his conversion, he hadn't felt it appropriate for a
damned creature such as himself. For her he did it, sure that God would
accept even the prayer of a monster such as himself when it was for the sake
of a true angel.

PART 3
Warning: Violence and rape are mentioned in this story. It's rated R so if
you're too young, or don't like reading those things, don't go any further!

Panic swelled in Willow's throat as she felt the cold, large hands close
around her arms, the fingers digging with bruising force into her skin. Her
heartbeat raced as he pulled her back against him, his lips pressing against
her hair and then trailing a line of searing kisses down her neck.

"Let me go…" She whispered, hating the weak tremor in her voice that
betrayed her fear. "Please….don't kill me."

"I don't want to kill you." The deep voice, identical in timbre and accent
to Angel's but lacking the kindness she'd always heard in his voice. "I
just want you."

Willow whimpered at his words, struggling as his arms slid around her torso,
still holding her firmly but now sliding up under her shirt to rub against
her bare skin. Oh god, she thought frantically, this isn't happening.
This can't be happening to me!

"No…" She whispered, struggling to free herself of his punishing grip as
the meaning of his words soaked into her mind. As his hands brushed against
the underside of her breasts she gagged, rage erupting within her chest.
"NO! GET OFF ME!"

She screamed in anger, her voice cracking with the force of her revulsion.
Recalling Gile's self-defense lessons, which she'd paid little attention to
at the time, she snapped her head back. As the back of her skull impacted
against Angelus' nose and mouth he staggered back involuntarily, not really
hurt but startled by Willow's actions. His released his grip with one hand,
raising it to bleeding nose and smearing the blood across his face.

Taking advantage of his brief distraction Willow writhed loose from his
grip, running towards her half open bedroom door. Her finger tips barely
brushed the doorknob before she felt a searing pain in her scalp as she was
pulled sharply backwards.

She lost her balance, falling to her behind on the floor with a thud and a
cry of pain. It felt as if her scalp was being torn off as she was dragged
unmercifully over the floor by her hair. By the time they reached the bed
she was sobbing with pain, salty tears trickling down her pale cheeks.
Using her hair as a handle Angelus pulled her to her feet, ignoring the
tears of fright and pain that dripped from her chin.

"Don't…." She whispered as he let go of her hair, the long coppery strands
falling in disarray around her pale face. Backing away from him, hands
raised protectively in front of her, she shook her head in a futile attempt
to deny what was about to happen to her. "Please don't do this to me…I did
nothing…"

"But I want you, Willow."

She flinched at his words, eyes widening in terror as he took the few steps
that brought his body into contact with hers. Her skin crawled as his cool,
pale fingers brushed over her cheek with a gentleness that seemed obscene to
Willow knowing what he planned to do to her. His hand drifted down her
cheek, along her neck and came to rest against her chest where they closed
into a fist around her top.

Willow sucked in her breath, hopelessly aware that there was no one in the
neighborhood that would hear her scream. Despair swamped her, dulling her
dark eyes as she realized that she wasn't going to get out of this.

* * * *
Angelus bared his teeth, his game face fully in evidence as he shoved Willow
backwards onto the bed. As she fell backwards her hair fanned out around
her blanched features, spilling into a crimson pool like blood across the
sheets. Angelus' eyes dilated sharply as he simply stared down at her for a
moment, hunger and lust warring within him.

As she tried to squirm off the bed he moved quickly, crawling onto the bed
and bracing his arms on either side of her slender body. Bending over her
he pressed his lips to the side of her face, ignoring her choked moan of
protest and her futile attempt to turn her head out of his reach. Pulling
his head back a little he studied her, smiling a little as he saw the tears
trickling from her eyes. Sliding his hand under her neck he wound his
fingers through her hair, holding her head still as he licked the tears from
her cheeks and savored the salty tang of her despair. Then he worked his
way down the line of her jaw, nuzzling his face into the side of her neck
and nipping gently at the pale, delicate skin.

The taste of her blood, even the few trickles he'd garnered from the tiny
scratch he'd inflicted, was nectar. As sweet as she was innocent, though
with a bitter undertone of bitterness and fear. He growled warningly as
she tried to struggle out of his grasp, tightening his fingers around her
skull until she whimpered in pain and stilled. Baring his teeth he bit
again, deeper this time, and released a fresh flow of blood into his mouth.
As he suckled on her neck he ran his free hand lazily over her body,
enjoying her gasps of pain as he dug his fingers cruelly into her skin.

"Mine." He snarled possessively into her throat, feeling her pulse flutter
with hummingbird speed against his throat. "You're mine, remember that."

As he spoke he began to tear at the clothes, the fabric ripping like paper
under his strong hands and blood oozing welts appearing on her pale skin as
his nails raked heedlessly through her flesh.

* * * *

Angel beat himself against the bars of his cage, ignoring the pain that
twisted his soul. At least the pain distracted him from the sensations he
felt as Angelus abused Willow. He didn't know what was worse, having to
watch helplessly as Willow was raped or experiencing the same emotions and
feelings as her abuser.

He threw himself against the bars once more, straining to gain his freedom
even if he had to rip himself apart to do so. As he struggled he felt
himself beginning to fade in and out of consciousness.

As the gray outs grew longer and more pronounced he wondered if he was going
to kill himself, destroy his own soul as he tried to free himself from the
chains that death and a demon had laid on him. He didn't care though, it
simply didn't matter anymore what happened to him. The guilt had been hard
enough to live with before but he knew that there was no way he could live
with this. No way he could endure the knowledge of what his body had done
to Willow, of what he'd felt his body do to Willow.

This time as he flung himself against the wall he felt something give, only
a little but it was enough to encourage him. He would get loose, even if
required the dissolution of his soul. Renewed determination filled him and
he smashed into the bars, again and again…Desperately trying to ignore what
he could sense was happening to Willow.

Passion Play (Part Four)

It hurt. It hurt a lot. Willow tried to bite back the tears that sprang
to her eyes, to stifle the cries of pain as he hurt her. Her mind felt like
the shattered shards of a stained glass window, images glittered bright and
fragmented against the blackness of her mind.

Angelus' face, her blood bright and scarlet against his pallid skin, taut
and twisted as it hovered over her. His fingers, glimpsed briefly as he
shoved her head to the side to get access to her neck, digging raised red
welts into her shoulders. The black edged pain as he sank his teeth into
her neck, sharpening as the razor edged fangs tore through the skin. The
pain in other places, a dull agony that spread from her knees through her
abdomen.

She couldn't believe that this was happening to her. The Hellmouth had come
close to killing her so many times but she'd never dreamed it would be like
this. The weak tears spilled from her eyes, tracing pale lines down her
face and soaking the pillow that her head was lying on.

Cold, hard fingers gripped her chin, yanking her head to the side to reveal
the unmarred side of her neck. The sudden pain in her throat brought her
round from her half daze, brought her round to the horror that was being
perpetrated on her body.

Angelus snarled, his body stiffening and a low growl issuing from his lips
as he sank his teeth into her throat. His fingers twisted into her dark
red hair, pulling her head back sharply to give him better access to her
throat.

Then it was over, a brief moment of pain as he pulled away from her and a
burning ache in her abused body. He hovered her for a second, running his
fingers down her throat and probing painfully at the ragged wounds that
decorated her pale skin. Then he rolled off the bed, rising gracefully to a
standing position and raising his bloodied fingers to his lips. As he
smeared the blood across his mouth his tongue flickered out, quick as a
cats, to lick it away.

"You're mine now." He gloated as she tried to curl herself up into a fetal
position, the tears still trickling slowly and steadily from her eyes. She
felt strange, the pain of her battered body distant and almost unimportant.
Shock, a surprisingly calm portion of her brain diagnosed, and severe blood
loss. The staggered and weakening heartbeat and the coldness spreading
throughout her body were all similar symptoms. She was dying, she realized
remotely as her eyelids fluttered and closed.
* * * *
Angelus frowned as he say Willow's eyes flutter shut, the rise and fall of
her chest becoming shallow and slowing. She was failing fast he noted,
sitting down beside her on the bed and resting his fingers against her
throat. Feeling the rapid and faltering pulse beat against his fingers he
pulled his hand away from her throat, stroking her tangled red hair away
from her face with an almost affectionate gesture.

She would be his now, he thought with possessive pleasure, his vampire
Queen. Running his finger over her lips he allowed himself to imagine her
as she would be once he brought her across. Crimson hair spilling across a
pale, perfect face stained with blood and ridged into the mask of the demon
within. She'd be a perfect killer, deadlier than Spike and more beautiful
that Drusilla. Willow, beautiful, clever Willow, would be his masterpiece.
She would be his equal and they would rule this pathetic town together.
Determined to claim his Queen he raised his wrist to his mouth and sank his
teeth into his own flesh.

The blood that welled from the self inflicted gash was dark, almost black,
red and oozed slowly and sullenly from the wounds. On his lips the taste of
his own blood was sour, sending a shudder through his body as he pulled his
lips back from his teeth. Pushing his sleeve back out of the way he slid
his hand under Willow's head, holding it still and in place as he brought
his bloodied wrist to her lips.

An impatient scowl twisted his face as she turned her head away, her face
twisting in instinctive refusal despite her worsening state. Letting her
head drop carelessly to the pillow he pressed his fingers into the sides of
her jaw, slowly forcing her mouth open.

"Drink!" He ordered her, his voice dropping an exasperated snarl as she
continued to try and turn her head away from him. Using his grip on her jaw
he pulled her into a sitting position, pressing his bloody wrist tightly
against her lips. "Drink or die and be damned!"

Suddenly he convulsed, letting Willow fall back onto the pillows as he
doubled over in pain. It felt as if the marrow was boiling in his bones,
the unbearable agony toppling him from the bed. Seizures gripped him, his
body arching in an uncontrolled response to the pain and his fingers digging
into the carpet.

"Nooo!" He forced the sibilant protest out between his clenched teeth, the
tendons standing out like cords in his neck. "I won't let this…"
* * * *

"Free." Angel whispered the word as he rolled over onto his stomach,
staring in brief wonder at his pale hands moving to his will against the
carpet. "I'm free again."

His wonder was brief lived, however, as he remembered the events that had
led up to it. Pushing his protesting body, though the lingering aches were
already disappearing thanks to his vampiric physioloogy, into a kneeling
position he stared at Willow with haunted, hollow eyes.

"I did this." He whispered, unsure whether it was in self condemnation or
merely an attempt to enforce the reality of the situation on his unwilling
consciousness. Reaching out a trembling hand he stroked her cheek gently,
barely brushing the pale skin. "Willow…wake up. Wake up, kitten."

The dark lashes flickered open to reveal hazy dark eyes that filled with
fear at the sight of his face. As she tried to flinch away from his touch,
her mouth working soundlessly in protest, he removed his hand. Trying to
ignore the shaft of pain in his heart at her attempt to get away from him he
closed his hands around her shoulders, moving her into a more comfortable
position on the bed.

"I'll…I'll call someone…the hospital." He whispered, getting to his feet
and backing away from the bed. As her eyes closed again, her breathing
getting more and more shallow and uneven, Angel hesitated a moment. Tears
of blood swam in his eyes as he stared at her bruised and battered body,
remembering with hideous clarity every blow he'd stuck against her. No one
deserved this, least of all sweet Willow. "You'll be alright. You will!
You have to be, Willow. I love you."