Angelus regarded the girl in front of him with an evil glint in his eye. He was good at getting that little spark of fear to grow within
her...but not for much longer. As soon as her blood was taken for Acathla, she would be dead.

The vampire contemplated that thought for a moment. Willow, the hacker, the redhead, the sweet little innocent pure girl...could he really kill her?

Of course he could.

Just, would he want to deprive himself of such a darling little companion? Someone to scream when he threatened her, or whimper when he kissed her? Or maybe she would make a much better vampire.

Once again he went back to studying her body crumpled on the floor. She had given him a glare that was weak inside. She was broken...dammit, that's not what he had wanted. He had wanted her to defy him to the very end of the world. Perhaps he could persuade Acathla to save her as a demon or something. Perhaps.

Willow squirmed on the floor in front of him. She knew that there was no way in hell she'd be able to ever intimidate him. Angelus had said that Buffy was coming...to get her out? Probably her intent...but Angelus was expecting the Slayer. Which meant Buffy might not stand a chance. Willow resigned herself to her fate.

Angelus saw Willow's shoulders droop. "Now, now, none of that," he said in a tone he didn't recognize. He walked over to her and bent down on one knee. He found an overwhelming urge to comfort her, and shakily placed one hand on her back.

Her shoulders were lightly shaking, and slowly he began to rub her back. She was warm...as were all humans. He was a vampire, he reminded himself, and vampires are cold blooded. They kill. Kill...

Willow shuddered when she felt Angelus' hand on her back. Was this the end? Would he finally kill her? Probably not. Angelus had made it quite clear that Buffy was going to see her die. At least she'd go out making an impression...unfortunately, it was going to be the end of the world.

As his hand moved up and down her back, he wondered what the hell he was doing. After several moments of the comforting gesture, Willow finally slumped to the floor, fast asleep.

His hand hung in the air, unsupported, as he tried to figure out what had just happened.

***

The door gave way to Buffy's constant attacks, and it finally fell to splinters. Needless to say, the lock was broken. She pushed away the fallen pieces and barged into the dark apartment.

Everything was covered in dust and grime. It was obvious that he hadn't lived there for months. Buffy let her eyes wander to the bed...then went back to business. Angel had stored some pretty heavy artillery in that apartment. With any luck, those big bad babies were still there.

She immediately went for the bed, dropping to her knees. Buffy stored her own weapons in a trunk under her bed. Lifting up the rumpled covers, she peered underneath.

There was indeed a trunk there, and she pulled it out. She popped open the lid, and was pleased to find several axes, a few stakes, and three or four vials of holy water. Stashing what she could on her body, she shoved the trunk back under the bed and left the apartment.

She adjusted a few of the stakes on her person, sliding one up her sleeve and one into her boot. Taking a cord from her pocket, she tied it around a vial of holy water and hung it around her neck. Tucking it under her collar, she checked her watch. Twenty after eight...time to leave. Time to get Willow back.