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Future Sins Past by DreamsofSpike
 
The Face of Evil
 
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A/N: Much thanx to my lovely and talented beta, Eowyn315!!! Thanx so much, love :)



Buffy waited breathlessly for Spike’s response to the question on which rested the whole of her relationship with Angel, past, present, and future. Time seemed to slow in that moment, between her asking and his telling, and a part of her panicked, terrified to hear the answer to the question that had troubled her for days.

Was it possible that simply by giving herself completely to him, Buffy had stolen Angel’s soul away?

“Yes.”

Spike’s simple answer set her reeling, staggering backward, shaking her head in denial of the response she had already known he would make -- before swiftly recovering and coming at him, her jaw set in fury, her fists poised to strike.

“No! No, that’s not true! It had to be something else…”

Spike did not back down, even as she stood right in his face, narrowed emerald eyes blazing with warning.

“*What* else, Slayer? What else happened out of the ordinary that night?” he challenged her, boldly holding her gaze. “I’ve seen the future, love, believe it or not, and it all comes out eventually. You will know one day, beyond all doubt, that it bloody well *was* that single soddin’ shag that did it. And so will everyone else…” His voice grew softer, sobered. “So, it’s in your own bloody best interest to tell your friends, your Watcher, before they find out on their own and things get *really* soddin’ ugly. And hitting me won’t make you feel any better about it.”

His abrupt shift in topic, spoken in that same calm, inexplicably concerned tone of voice, startled Buffy, throwing her off her guard. She lowered her hands to her sides again, unclenching her fists with an effort as she let out a heavy sigh and backed off a couple of paces.

Still, her voice was defensive, and sullenly threatening, as she replied, “Don’t tell me what’s in my own best interest, Spike. I’ll decide whether or not I want them to know. This is -- personal.”

“Not for long.”

“What’s gonna happen to change that, then?” Buffy demanded, recovering enough emotional control to shift the subject again, not wanting to think too much about the staggering revelation Spike had just made. “If you know so much, what’s Angel going to do that’s so terrible that I should cut him out of my life, even now that he has his soul back?”

“I’m not saying cut him out of your life. Bloody hell, if he’s gonna be around at all, you oughta soddin’ well know what he’s up to!” Spike scoffed, and then stated bluntly, “I’m saying stake him, Slayer, now, before he gets the chance to do as much damage as he’s going to if you don’t do something about it!”

Buffy glared at Spike, growing impatient with his fairly evasive warnings. She ground out the words in barely controlled rage.

“Like. What?”

Spike abandoned his attempt at gentleness, frustrated by her attitude. “Like killing your friends. Like destroying your relationships with your Watcher, your mum, your little sister…”

Buffy’s stunned expression faded into a puzzled, suspicious frown. “I don’t *have* a sister.”

“You will.”

The Slayer’s eyes widened at that, and she gasped, “*Mom*? But…but who..?”

“That’s not important right now, Buffy. What’s important is stopping Angel before he…” Spike’s voice abruptly trailed off, and he shook his head, looking away from her questioning gaze, unable or unsure how to go on.

“Before he what?” The Slayer’s voice finally held a note of genuine fear, as she moved slowly closer to Spike, seeking his averted gaze, no threat in her stance this time. “Spike, what is he going to do?”

Spike hesitated, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as he finally relented and met the Slayer’s troubled eyes. It would hurt her to hear it -- but it would hurt much worse if she didn’t.

“He’s going to kill one of your best friends.”

“Who? When?”

“Willow. He’s going to *turn* her.” Spike was quiet for a moment, allowing those shocking words to sink in before answering her second question the best he could. He gave an apologetic half-shrug to indicate that he knew no more. “*Soon*.”

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

“Willow! Wait!” Angel called out, rushing down the sidewalk, following the scent of Willow’s panic. “Wait, it’s okay!”

He hurried after her, intent on catching up with her before she got back to Buffy. He had to stop her, had to find a way to explain what she had just seen and heard, before she managed to give Buffy the wrong idea about him.

Or, if he was honest with himself -- the *right* idea.

But Angel was rarely honest with himself.

*Stupid Dru,* he thought bitterly. *Always knew too much for anyone’s good, even her own. Why couldn’t she have just kept her mouth shut? Why’d she have to tell Willow all that stuff that doesn’t even matter? It’s just going to give Buffy ideas, and make her more likely to believe whatever lies Spike is telling her. I’ve got to stop Willow before she can…*

He paused when the street came to an end, the choice interrupting his frantic thoughts. He shifted into his game face as he looked and scented both directions for the terrified little redhead.

And Willow *was* terrified. Angel could smell it.

And it smelled delicious.

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

Willow was beginning to run out of breath, out of strength, out of all the things she needed to keep herself ahead of the dangerous creature that she was certain was just behind her. Her fear had sped her steps along, but now, she was simply at the point of exhaustion, and she was beginning to think that her panic would not be able to carry her much further.

*He enjoys your fear…he wants to hurt you…Daddy wants to hear you scream…*

Drusilla’s dying words echoed in her mind, and Willow pushed herself just a little bit harder. The mad vampiress had been -- well, *mad* -- but she had also been psychic, Willow knew. And the things she had said -- the thoughts and desires she had attributed to Angel, soul or no soul…

Willow felt a sick sensation creeping up within her, and she fought it back, knowing that she had to keep moving, had to get to Buffy before Angel caught up with her. She knew the dark secrets that still lay in the vampire’s heart…and he knew that she knew.

“*Willow*!”

She turned to glance anxiously over her shoulder, and her wide eyes locked with the golden gaze of a predator, smiling at her from down the street. At the sight of Angel’s true face, Willow felt a heavy weight of dread settle into her stomach, with the strengthened evidence that her fears were well founded. Her feet felt like lead, but she forced them to move, more certain than ever that if she didn’t get away, and quickly, she might never reach Buffy at all.

She stumbled as she turned, and tripped on a crack in the sidewalk, falling to the ground on her face and scraping her cheek painfully against the concrete. She let out a quiet whimper of pain and fear, but struggled to her feet, pushing away the pain, knowing only that she had to get moving again.

She rounded another corner, desperately hoping to lose him among Sunnydale’s back alleys -- only to come face to face with the monster she feared, inches away from her and grinning maliciously.

“Come on, Willow,” he cajoled her softly, holding up his hands in an innocent gesture as she backed away from him on trembling legs. “You know you don’t have any reason to be afraid of me…”

She spun around and started to run again…only to be cut off before she had gone ten feet, the vampire once again standing in front of her, blocking her escape.

“…and you know you can’t outrun me,” Angel added in a mildly reproving voice, shaking his head slightly in a regretful way.

With a sinking heart, Willow realized that he was right. Still, her feet carried her slowly backward in an instinctive attempt to get away from the frighteningly close presence of the tall, dark vampire facing her, those golden eyes boring into hers with a fierce, wicked glee.

“A-Angel,” she stammered, swallowing hard as her back hit the wall of the building behind her. “I -- I know…I…heard someone chasing me. I didn’t know it was you, or I -- I wouldn’t have -- of *course* I wouldn’t have…run from *you*. Because you’re good. You have your soul back, right? So, you’re good. No reason to be afraid of you…”

“Quit your rambling, little girl.”

The dark, menacing tone of his voice stilled her words, and her heart momentarily, as she flinched at the sound.

“Willow, little Willow,” Angel mused, the menace instantly vanishing from his voice as he slowly advanced on her, still in game face. “I know you’re scared of me. I can feel it…can *smell* it…but you shouldn’t be.”

Willow shook her head rapidly in agreement with his words, her back pressed against the brick behind her as Angel closed in.

“But you still are,” he observed, frowning. “Willow…those things Dru said…”

“She’s crazy,” Willow interrupted in a whisper, her eyes closed, her head turned away in revulsion from the monster visage before her. “Crazy, she didn’t know what she was saying…”

She knew that she had to convince Angel that she had not believed Drusilla’s words, if she was going to get out of this alive. Instinctively, she was certain that he would not let her go until he was sure that she would not carry the story of this evening directly to Buffy.

Angel smiled, pleased, nodding as he affirmed, “Yes, she is. She’s out of her mind. All those things she said…she was talking about someone else, Willow. You know that, right? She was talking about someone that I’m not…not anymore.”

Willow nodded with the same certainty with which she had shaken her head moments before, eagerly agreeing with Angel’s words. “I know…I know…” she whispered tremulously, in a voice so soft that he would not have heard her, had he been human.

“Willow…” Angel’s voice held a touch of irritation now, as he pressed, “…Willow, come on! You don’t believe me!” He sounded stunned, genuinely offended. “Willow, I’m not going to hurt you…look at me! Why won’t you…?”

His voice trailed off, and his eyes widened with sudden understanding.

“Willow…”

He reached out a strong but soft hand to tilt her chin toward him, and she looked into his face through wide, terror-stricken eyes filled with tears. His other hand reached up to touch his own face, as he uttered the truth he had just realized.

“It’s this -- isn’t it? This is why you’re scared?”

Willow leapt at the explanation, nodding quickly. “Yes. Yes, you were -- I mean, he was -- when -- he looked like that…”

“Oh, Willow.”

Angel’s voice was filled with sympathy and regret, as his features shifted back into his human face, and his hand gentled on her chin, caressing her cheek. When she winced in pain at the touch of his fingers on the bloody scrape, Angel frowned.

“You’re hurt. Sorry,” he said quietly, absentmindedly raising his fingers to his lips and licking the traces of her blood off them. At the taste of her blood -- sweet with her fear and rich with the exertion of her run, and tinged with the slightest hint of strawberry -- Angel’s dark eyes dilated slightly, and he swallowed hard, alarmed at the rising desire he felt coming up inside.

And outside, as well.

Willow’s eyes widened with fear as she saw the lustful expression in his eyes when they met hers again, and felt the evidence of his arousal against her leg. With a little cry of disgust and fear, she tried to push him away from her, distressed at his nearness and the obvious attraction that Angel still held for her, despite all the horrible things that had happened between her and Angelus.

Angel caught her wrists in his, pinning them back against the wall beside her, leaning in closer.

“Shhh,” he urged her gently, concern in his voice. “Willow, don’t…I’m not going to hurt you…Willow, stop it, you have to calm down…”

“Don’t *touch* me!” she cried out, struggling wildly, but uselessly, as he brought her wrists over her head and held them pinned in one strong hand, the other falling easily over her mouth, silencing her cries and holding her head firmly in place.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Willow,” Angel assured her. “I just want to make this better…this scrape…” His voice had lowered to a whisper, hoarse with desire that he could not disguise, and his eyes were flashing golden again, focused on the cut on her cheek.

Willow fought desperately, but was no match for his strength, as Angel gently laved the scrape with his tongue, releasing a low moan of pleasure at the taste of her blood. He took longer about it than he should have, savoring the taste and the feel of her silky skin, before drawing back to meet her eyes.

Willow’s emerald eyes filled with panic as she saw that he had unknowingly shifted back into his game face. She fought, trying to scream around the hand he held over her mouth.

“Willow, calm down,” Angel instructed her, though now his gaze had shifted from her eyes to her wildly pulsing throat. “Calm down, you’re just making me…I mean, you’re just making it…worse…” He looked up again, smiling into her eyes. “Your cheek’s already healed up. See? I told you I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

Willow went still, belatedly realizing the futility of her struggles, and simply stood there helpless in his grasp, waiting to see if he would actually let her go…or not. Her heart was pounding with terror, her face wet with tears, but she knew by now that fighting would do her no good, if Angel meant to harm her.

“See…I healed it,” Angel told her with a smile. “I didn’t hurt it. And I’ll be sure that you get home okay now. But…but first…I think you owe me, Will…”

Her entire body went rigid with fear as she felt him press his obvious erection closer against her, edging between her legs and brushing the crotch of her fitted jeans. She let out a pleading, terrified whimper around his hand, shaking her head desperately as she met his eyes with horror in her own.

“Willow, no!” he objected when he realized what she thought. “No, that’s not what I mean! I would never do that, not unless I knew you wanted…no, no, that’s not what I’m talking about.” He paused, and she noticed with alarmed understanding that his eyes were once again fixated on her throat. “All I’m talking about is…is just a little taste of that sweetness I just cleaned off your face…just a taste, Willow…”

She struggled, trying uselessly to scream, as his lips parted…and then closed again over the throbbing pulse in her throat.
 
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