The soft tapping on the door leading into her bedroom from outside drew Willow’s attention from the homework assignment that she had been attempting to focus on -- with little success, anyway. Curious, she rose from her desk, peering out the window before opening the door.

Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Angel standing there, a sad, uncertain expression in his dark, puppy-dog eyes.

Angel had been to her house before; it would not have ordinarily been such a surprise to see him standing there.

That is, if she had not just minutes earlier gotten off the phone with a sobbing, barely coherent Buffy -- whom she was actually expecting to show up any minute. She would have gone to Buffy instead, if her usually unconcerned mother had not grounded her for getting the less than stellar grade of a B+ on a test the previous week.

One moment, they had been having a normal, average sort of telephone conversation. Then, Willow had asked Buffy how Angel was doing…and after a seemingly interminable moment of silence, her friend had broken down completely. Willow had not been able to make out much of what the distraught Slayer had said, but she knew that it had something to do with the souled vampire, who had said something horribly hurtful to her friend.

Her eyes narrowed as her arms crossed over her chest, and she glared at the vampire.

It didn’t matter how penitent he was trying to look, he was not in *her* good books, not until he un-did whatever he had done to hurt Buffy.

“You have got some explaining to do, Mister,” she informed him in her most severe tone of voice -- which was still sadly un-scary, she mentally acknowledged, as she continued to glare at him through the doorway.

“Aw, Wills,” he said softly, in a voice that immediately struck her as strange, coming from Angel. It was -- too familiar…almost…almost *mocking*…and just a little bit scary. “Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t you tell me how to be, you mean old vampire!” she shot back, angry at herself for the slight tremor she heard in her own voice, and for taking an uncertain step backward as he moved through the doorway without invitation.

*Oh, yeah,* she remembered uneasily. *He’s already got one, hasn’t he?*

“Buffy called me -- and she’s on her way over here right now, because of you! And I don’t think it’s gonna be very conducive to me comforting her if you’re standing here in the middle of my bedroom.” Glancing nervously toward the door, Willow added, “It’s not going to be very conducive to my not being grounded anymore, either, for that matter.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Angel told her, shutting the door quietly behind him, giving her a cold, predatory smile that chilled her blood.

*What’s the matter with you?* she berated herself. *This is Angel -- he doesn’t hurt people. Well -- not in a physical sense…*

But he was advancing toward her, backing her toward her bed, and suddenly she forgot the reassurances her mind was trying to give her, her heart pounding in her chest as her knees hit the side of her mattress, and Angel closed the rest of the distance between them.

One of his arms slid around her waist, and she tried with shaking hands to push him away, demanding shakily, “W-what are you doing? Angel, get your hands off…”

“Did you ever think,” the vampire continued as if she had not spoken, his voice low and seductive as he only gripped her tighter, in spite of her struggles, “that maybe *I* could use a little comfort, too?”

“Angel -- Angel, what’s wrong with you? Stop…” Willow protested, her words cut off as he pushed her hard, onto her back on the bed.

Before she could gain her bearings he was straddling her, pinning her arms at her sides with his strong legs, one heavy hand clamped tightly over her mouth, silencing her frantic attempts at screams. Her eyes went wide as his face shifted into his vampiric guise, and he leaned down close to her throat, inhaling deeply as his free hand caressed lightly over her breast.

Willow went completely still at that, a new terror rising in her eyes at that intimate touch -- accompanied by another strange, unwelcome feeling, one she had felt before, but never at the touch of a man’s hand. Feeling it now, against her will, made her feel dirty and ashamed, and her face colored with humiliation as tears pricked against the backs of her tightly closed eyes.

“Mmmm,” Angel whispered close to her throat, his hand over her mouth tilting her head so that he had better access to her vulnerable throat. “You smell delicious, Willow. Just like -- candy. Better than candy. You’re all -- sweetness…innocence…and just a little bit of…*curiosity*, for spice.”

She could hear the smirk in his voice, increasing her discomfort and shame, and she tried to twist out of his grasp, her every effort useless against his vampire’s strength. He effortlessly held her, leaning in even closer to whisper in a voice of soft, intimate mockery,

“I know a part of you wants this, you dirty little girl! Even though you know you shouldn’t…even though you *don’t* want it -- and that’s what’s gonna make you taste sooo good!”

He made a show of sniffing her throat again, before running his cool tongue slowly up the madly pulsing column of her throat, before adding in a whisper, “You want to know what it’s like -- but you’re afraid you’re going to die untouched, aren’t you? Poor little sweet, mousy, *boring* Willow -- men don’t notice you.” He laughed cruelly, shrugging as he admitted, “Hell, even I’m only touching you because of Buffy.”

Willow couldn’t help flinching at the twisted, painful truth in his words, tears streaming from her eyes, wide open again and desperately seeking an escape that she was increasingly sure would not come, not in time.

“But I *am* touching you…”

Angel sneered softly, smiling as he brushed his fangs against the sensitive pulse point in her throat again, without breaking the skin, his hand stroking invasively across her breasts again, toying with her, making her feel things she had always wanted to feel, yet so mingled with things she‘d *never* wanted to feel that she couldn‘t begin to enjoy them.

She was terrified and ashamed and confused -- and quite certain that she would never want a man to touch her again.

As if reading her tumultuous, confused thoughts, Angel -- or Angelus, as she was beginning to suspect, went on softly, “And before I’m finished, sweet little Willow -- you’ll want it -- and you’ll wonder why you *ever* wanted it -- and you’ll wish you never had wanted it -- all at the same time...”

With a desperate effort, Willow managed to yank her mouth free of his hand for a moment, but she found that she was too breathless with panic even to scream. Her wide, tearful eyes locked onto those of the monster above her for just a moment, and all she could get out in that single instant was a meaningful whispered word.

“*Buffy*…”

Angel’s lips formed an exaggerated pout, and he rolled his eyes with a weary sigh, as he admitted, “You’re right. Buffy’s coming. Don’t have time to exactly ‘rock your world’, little girl, do I?” His pout became a vicious grin, as he finished in a soft, deadly voice of menace, “Guess I’ll just have to settle for tearing your throat out.”

“Guess you won’t.”

The Slayer’s voice, hard and furious, spoke directly behind him, and before he had time to respond, Angelus found himself yanked up off of the petrified little redhead, and thrown against the far wall.

“How about I rock *your* world instead?” Buffy quipped, albeit weakly. After all, she had just walked in on the vampire she had thought was the love of her life, attempting to rape and murder her best friend, the night after he had just dismissed the most important, moving experience of her life as meaningless and sub-par.

She wasn’t exactly feeling at her quippy best.

“About that, Buff,” Angelus sneered as he pulled himself back to his feet, giving the Slayer a lecherous grin, “I thought we’d already covered that. I don’t think you could…”

A vicious side kick to his face silenced his taunt, as Buffy rushed him, landing blow after blow in a violent, rage-fueled frenzy that ended with the vampire on the floor, and her straddling his waist, her stake raised and ready to plunge into his heart.

She did not know what had happened -- but she *did* know that the Angel she had loved was not this same creature looking up at her now, this same creature who had shattered her heart and attacked her friend.

*Was it*?

Familiar, soulful brown eyes were staring up at her now, full of sorrow and remorse. He shook his head in a display of confusion and uncertainty, whispering, “Buffy? What…I…what happened?”

Buffy frowned, her stake hand freezing, as she glanced uncertainly between Willow and the prone vampire on the floor beneath her. “A-angel?”

His eyes searched hers, anxious and questioning, and she didn’t even react, didn’t move to defend herself, as he placed a strong hand on the back of her head and pulled her toward him to kiss her.

Her eyes widened at the last second, as she realized what he was doing, in light of what he had just done to her friend, and she tried, too late, to pull away from the kiss, but he rolled them so that he was over her, his lips passionately attacking hers as he crawled up onto his hands and knees over her, taking advantage of the leverage of his new position, and not letting up until she was breathless and gasping for air.

Confused, not really sure what she was feeling, what she had just seen, what exactly had taken place in the last insane, painful, surreal twenty-four hours, Buffy realized too late, aghast, that she had surrendered to the kiss.

The realization stunned her, and she did not move as Angel got to his feet, smirking down at her in satisfaction, tilting his head in a speculative way before shaking it with a dismissive little sneer.

“Naw,” he concluded softly. “Still no good. Just a waste of a good kiss.” As Buffy scrambled to her feet, he made his way out the door, calling over his shoulder, “See ya later, Buff.” He stopped at the door long enough to turn and look at Willow, smiling menacingly into her eyes as he added, “We’ll have to do this another time, Wills.”

After he had vanished into the darkness, both girls just stood there in silence for a long moment, too stunned by what had just happened to do anything at all, the only sound the faint squeaking of the door as it shifted slightly back and forth in the wind.

Suddenly, Willow rushed to the door, slamming it shut and locking it with trembling fingers. “He can still get in!” she realized aloud with a stricken sob, staring wide-eyed at the door for a moment. “Oh, God, Buffy, he can still get in!” She shook her head in denial, obviously searching her mind for any way of ensuring her safety from the vampire.

When she came up empty, it was all too much for Willow. As she collapsed to the floor in front of her door, her small form shaking and racked with sobs, Buffy went to her side automatically, falling to her knees beside her friend. “Willow -- Wills…”

“Don’t call me that!” Willow choked out the words with a shudder of horror and revulsion -- before suddenly looking up at Buffy through stricken, accusing eyes, as she pulled away from her comforting hands. “And don’t touch me.”

Buffy blinked, startled, and still a bit dazed by the whole affair herself.

Truth be told -- she felt utterly and completely lost.

“Willow,” she began hesitantly, thinking she knew why her friend was angry with her. “I’m sorry. That -- that wasn’t Angel. That -- had to be -- Angelus. I don’t know how, but he must have lost his soul…”

“How could you?” Willow whispered, not looking at Buffy, her lower lip trembling as she shook her head sadly. “Buffy, how could you?”

“I’m sorry, Willow,” Buffy repeated, her own tears welling and falling from her wide, shocked eyes. “I -- I just didn’t know what to do. I -- I shouldn’t have let him go. But -- but it’s *Angel*, and I never -- never thought that…”

“No,” Willow cut her off, a strangely cold note to her voice, and the look in her eyes when she finally raised them to meet Buffy’s nearly took the Slayer’s breath. “Not that..”

Now, Buffy was utterly at a loss. “Then…what?” she asked softly, blinking.

“You -- you *kissed* him.” Willow’s voice was filled with disbelief and disgust. “You -- you saw what he did. And you…”

“No!” Buffy objected emphatically. “No, Willow, he kissed *me*, I did not…”

“You *let* him kiss you,” Willow amended, not sounding as if the slight change in wording made much difference. “You -- you *wanted* him to kiss you. You knew what he almost did, and you actually *wanted* him to touch you…”

Buffy shook her head, a stricken expression on her face as she slowly rose to her feet, backing away from her friend -- utterly unaware that the disgust, the condemnation in Willow’s words was not solely directed at her.

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Will, it all just -- just happened so fast…I didn’t mean to…”

Willow rose to her feet abruptly, her jaw set firmly, though her eyes were still downcast. “We can‘t just sit here,” she stated, her tone flat and barely controlled. “If -- if Angelus is really back -- then we need to get in touch with everybody. Make sure -- everybody’s safe.”

Buffy was silent for a moment, painfully aware that the matter of that brief kiss that had done so much damage to them both was not settled yet -- but unable to deny the truth of Willow’s words.

“Okay,” she agreed, still feeling numb inside, though it was a deep aching numbness, beginning in her stomach, slowly spreading throughout her entire body. “Let’s call Giles.”

*******************************

“Dru!” Angelus called as he made his way back up the walk to the mansion, unable to repress the grin on his face, feeling in a much better mood. “Where’s my girl? Daddy’s home, Dru!”

His smile faded abruptly when he stepped into the foyer, and his nostrils were assaulted by a familiar, though unwelcome, scent. He frowned, his eyes narrowing in annoyance and disgust.

Though his own little quest had met with only partial success, it appeared that Dru’s mission had been successful, judging by the scent that seemed to permeate the mansion.

Spike.

Though, judging by the burnt, coppery tang in the air, the younger vampire was likely injured, and badly.

“Daddy’s home,” Drusilla’s hauntingly musical voice echoed his own words of moments before, and suddenly she appeared in the doorway of one of the lower level bedrooms. “Come and see what your childe has found, Daddy!”

“Let me guess,” Angelus drawled, his smirk returning at the stronger scent of blood that was there as he stepped through the doorway into the darkened room, and the thought of how much pain his errant grandchilde was likely in to have left such a powerful scent. “You’ve gone out and brought home an injured stray again, haven’t you, Dru? How many times has Daddy told you -- you can’t keep a pet, dear. They have this funny way of dying on you.”

“Not my William,” Dru sighed, a dreamy note to her voice. “Couldn’t let my sweet William die…we’ve got to save him from the sunshine…”

Angelus glanced skeptically up at the ceiling, aware that Drusilla likely saw a much different view when she looked at it than he did. “No danger of any sunshine getting to him in here,” he reassured her matter-of-factly, his dark eyes finally catching sight of the unconscious vampire apparently asleep or unconscious on the bed. “Looks like he’ll be fine for the moment…”

“But I haven’t yet started cleaning his wounds,” Drusilla objected, her full lips forming a petulant pout. “Nasty lady made of ice and needles, poked my Spike all full of holes to let the light in…spilled his blood to paint her barren pictures…gotta fill him back up again, I do…”

“Not yet, you don’t,” Angelus said firmly, his voice a low growl as he caught her arm, just as she would have returned to Spike’s bedside. “William can wait. You’ve got your Daddy to see to, Dru.”

The protest gradually faded from Dru’s wide, dark eyes, slowly fading into a glimmer of desire, as her lips formed a slow, sly smile. “Daddy needs his little girl again, does he?” she purred, sidling in close and running her hands up and down her sire’s sides almost worshipfully. “Not gonna send her away again?” she pouted, then giggled softly, murmuring, “Not sure what she’ll bring home next time if he does…”

“No, Dru,” Angelus chuckled, shaking his head at her words that belied her dreamy, mad ways, revealing that perhaps there was a bit more craftiness in her actions than she had originally let on. “Not gonna send you away again. Not tonight…”

And the two vampires left the bedroom, in search of a room with a fresh bed, and a bit of privacy.

Though, not *too* much privacy, of that Angelus made sure, choosing a room only a couple of rooms down from the one in which Spike lay.

After all, if the younger vampire happened to awaken -- Angelus wanted to be sure that he heard just exactly what was happening between his sire and grandsire.

*Pecking order’s different around here now, William,* Angelus thought grimly. *And as soon as you wake up -- I’ll show you just how different things really are!*