kallie_kat (kallie_kat) wrote in joss10k,

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FIC: Strange Fascination, 13/??, Willow/Angelus, NC-17/FRAO

Title: Strange Fascination
Author: kallie_kat (a.k.a. KallieRose or just plain Kat)
Pairing: Willow/Angelus, vampWillow/vampXander (kind of--but not really)
Rating: NC-17/FRAO
Summary: Set vaguely in late S1 or early S2, before Buffy and Angel have declared themselves "soulmates," although they're definitely interested in each other.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters and claim no responsibility for anything other than this story, from which no profit is made.
Author's Notes: Although I am posting this for joss10k, this story is dedicated to Lisa Kelley. Thank you so much for all of your help, beta work, and most of all, your friendship. I hope you like this. Thanks also to dragonydreams for the beta (and all the other stuff, too!).

If you want to refresh your memories, you'll find the rest of the story here.

Chapter 13

Willow and Buffy ate handfuls of popcorn and watched Airplane, parroting lines of the movie back and forth to each other until they dissolved into helpless giggles.

“We really need to do this more often,” Buffy gasped, her laughter leaving her breathless. “Like, whenever Xander acts like an idiot.”

That sent them both into another fit of giggles. “Or,” Willow added, when she could speak again, “every time Giles says, ‘oh dear.’”

It took another minute or two for them to stop laughing at that thought. “Not that he’s not a very nice man,” Willow couldn’t help but add, suddenly assailed by feelings of guilt.

“For an uptight British guy, yeah, he’s not too bad,” Buffy agreed. “I just wish he’d pull that stick out of his ass sometimes. I can just imagine him as a teenager—probably had the pocket protector and the geek glasses. Never broke a rule in his life, you know?”

Willow giggled at the thought. She couldn’t imagine Giles as anything but an adult, but Buffy was probably right. She fought a yawn, clapping her hand over her mouth in an attempt to hide it.

“It’s okay with your parents that you crash here tonight, right?” Buffy asked.

With a sigh, Willow thought about the last time she had actually seen her parents. It had been at least a week ago, maybe longer. They’d gone straight from their convention in New York to a symposium in Chicago. “I left them a message to let them know. Not that they’d probably notice. But, just in case, you know?”

Buffy nodded. “I don’t get your parents. I mean, my mom’s not perfect, but at least she’s here.” Of course, there were also times when having parents who were perpetually gone would have been a huge advantage. It would certainly make late night slayage activities easier.

Willow, for her part, sometimes regretted that her parents weren’t really a part of her life. But she also knew that her rather unconventional upbringing gave her a sense of strength and responsibility that others her age really didn’t have.

It was a mixed blessing, as were most things in life.


Angelus whistled a cheerful tune as he returned to the mansion. After his visit with Willow he had gone hunting, draining a teenaged couple and a middle-aged woman who hadn’t been smart enough to turn down his invitation for a drink at his place. ‘His place’ had turned out to be the alley behind the club, and ‘a drink’ had ended up being the death of her.

With a full belly and the soft, nervous sound of Willow’s voice still ringing in his ears, he strode through the door and into the living room, where he found Xander deeply involved in a video game.

“You’re certainly cheerful,” Xander said cautiously, careful not to say anything that would change that fact. Angelus’ moods could morph from cheerful to vicious in the blink of an eye, and anyone who forgot that was reminded of it at their own peril.

But Angelus’ good mood seemed destined to continue, as he plopped down onto the couch next to Xander, who quickly put an end to his game. “Good night’s hunting?” he prompted.

Angelus looked satisfied with himself, a content smile settling on his lips. “Sometimes it’s just too easy,” he confirmed. “Like shooting fish in a barrel.”

Xander nodded his agreement. That was how life was—most of the time, anyway. Humans being what they were, there was rarely an instance when a vampire *couldn’t* find a quick, easy meal. “Something else go well? You look like the cat that ate the canary,” he added, trying to encourage his sire’s confidence.

It was an apt metaphor. Angelus looked satisfied, full, and very happy about something.

“Found myself a little girl to play with,” he admitted with a grin. “Cute little pixie, with a fiery passion buried so deep that even she doesn’t realize it’s there. She’ll make a wonderful addition to the family. Well, after I’ve romanced her a bit.”

Xander gave a grin of his own. He knew exactly what Angelus’ courtship entailed. The girl in question might be a strong little pixie right now, but who knew what she’d be like after Angelus had softened her up a bit. Xander only hoped that he’d be allowed to help. His sire always liked to play the most enjoyable games.

But experience had shown him that it was best not to appear too eager. It set off Angelus’ territorial instincts, which usually ended in a beating, and an admonition to ‘remember his place.’

“Let me know if you need any help,” he said casually, turning his attention back to the game he had been playing and letting the matter drop there.

The sound of Angelus’ laughter and his parting words lingered for a moment after the elder vampire made his way upstairs. “Little red riding hood doesn’t have a clue about what the big, bad wolf has in store for her.”


It was becoming a nightly occurrence for Willow, these dreams of Angelus. Tonight they were in her bedroom, his head buried deep between her legs. His tongue lashed her clit while his fingers thrust in and out of her, and the only sound she could hear was her tortured gasps for breath.

“Tell me what you want,” he growled, his eyes golden as they stared up at her. She remained silent, refusing to give in. They both knew what she wanted, but she just couldn’t bring herself to voice her desires aloud.

Her body bucked and bowed as he played it like an instrument, his talented fingers and tongue bringing her to the edge of release again and again, but always leaving her unsatisfied.

“Tell me what you want,” he insisted, but still she remained silent, refusing to give him the answer he desired.

So he began again, tongue circling her clit, teeth nipping at it occasionally, building up her pleasure until it was all she could do to remain conscious. Silence was beyond her, and her soft gasps and moans filled the air.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded yet again, sensing a weakening of her resolve.

This is only a dream, she reminded herself. What she said here didn’t really count. This was fantasy, not reality. She was safe to say whatever she wanted, even if she knew that it was wrong. Because there would be no consequences.

“I want you,” she groaned at last, giving him the victory he desired. His fingers worked her body and his teeth gently closed down on her clit, sending her body crashing into an orgasm that left her limp with satisfaction.

When she opened her eyes, she realized that the scene had changed. She was at the Bronze now, slipping through the shadows of the club as she watched the couples on the dance floor. Sounds and smells she had never sensed before overwhelmed her. Somehow she knew that the cinnamon and a sweet musky odor meant desire, while the spicy, tangy scent that she also smelled was fear.

And the sounds...heartbeats assailed her from every direction, their sound alternating between a pleasing cacophony and a sensual lullaby.

But one person in the mass of gyrating bodies on the dance floor called to her, a heartbeat stronger than any other, drawing her out of the shadows like a moth to a flame. Against her own volition she glided onto the dance floor, slicing through the crowd until she saw found the person she sought.

A spotlight lit a couple, and everyone else faded into the darkness as she watched them.

The male was a tall, dark-haired boy. He brought out feelings in her—feelings of possessiveness and pride. She pushed the feelings aside as she concentrated on his partner.

She was a bottle blonde, her body wiry and strong, and made for battle. A killing machine whose sole purpose in life was to dust vampires. She was death in human form.

Through a haze of memories she thought about a time when the blonde was a friend, and they had fought together. But those days were as distant now as the sun she used to feel. Now the blonde was an enemy.

Willow joined the couple on the dance floor, catching Xander’s eye and lowering her eyelids, a seductive smile forming on her lips. Her hands fell onto Buffy’s hips, and she guided them into a rhythm that Xander quickly mimicked, sandwiching the blonde between them as they danced.

She never put up a fight, not even when Willow pushed that straw-colored hair away from her neck and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, a prelude to sinking her teeth into the soft flesh. She sucked the life out of the girl in deep gulps and then let the body fall to the floor, a lifeless husk of someone she used to know.

The look in Xander’s eyes was appreciative, almost predatory, and she suspected that it mirrored the look in her own. She swayed towards him, letting the rhythm of the music fill her mind, becoming one with the beat.

They danced, bodies pressed tightly together, rubbing and teasing each other in a kind of foreplay that lasted for hours. When you lived forever, there was no reason to rush anything. They had taught each other that.

“Watching you dance with her was making me so hard,” he groaned into her ear.

His hands worked the zipper of her pants and then slid them down. She stepped out of them, grinning as she watched his eyes darken appreciatively.

“How did she taste?” he asked. “I’ve never had Slayer’s blood before.”

Quick as lightning, she ran a sharp fingernail across her upper thigh, leaving a thin, red trail in its wake. “Come and find out,” she teased, smiling at his growl of approval.

“Tease,” he muttered, pushing her to the ground.

Her legs spread automatically and he crawled between them, his tongue lapping hungrily at the blood on her thigh. Groans of contentment escaped his lips, and she smiled slightly as she watched him enjoy his reward.

“Tastes like power. And...” he paused for a moment, searching for the right word, “and history. Ancient forces, maybe even a bit of demon?” He looked up at her, seeking confirmation.

She nodded her approval. “I thought so, too. Gave me such a buzz. Made me horny,” she added, her voice turning honey-sweet.

His eyes widened and nostrils flared, her scent confirming her words. “I can take care of that problem for you,” he reminded her, unzipping his pants and sliding them down his lean hips. He pulled her to the floor and climbed on top of her.

He slammed into her, his hands grabbing her hips in a grip so tight it hurt. She keened in satisfaction, arching her back, her fingers snaking under her shirt to find her nipples, pinching and squeezing them to increase the pain. “Make it hurt,” she told him, sighing in pleasure as he pulled completely out of her and then slammed back in.

His hips set up a pace that only another of their kind could endure, and she reveled in the sensations he evoked, his hands roving her body, his mouth latching onto hers for a bloody kiss. In no time at all she was coming, her muscles spasming in pleasure as he continued to pound into her...


Willow awoke with a start, surprised and horrified to find her hand wedged between her legs, wet and sticky with her own secretions. Her clit was sensitive almost to the point of pain, and she could feel that her body was on the edge of an orgasm. ‘Oh god, what’s wrong with me?’ she thought, feeling her face flush with shame. She pulled her hand up, sniffed her fingers, and scrunched her nose in disgust.

The events of her dream returned to her, filling her with horror, and she stared up at Buffy’s bed, relieved beyond belief to hear the sounds of soft snores coming from the mound of bedding that covered her friend. The same friend that she killed in her dream, she remembered.

‘What’s wrong with me?’ she asked herself, again. She remembered killing Buffy, draining her, letting her corpse fall to the floor, and feeling absolutely nothing but satisfaction. The thought filled her with fear, and she shivered beneath the heavy comforter that covered her.

She had slept with Angelus. And Xander. Her body still tingled from pent-up energy, still yearned for orgasm, for a relief from the tension. Trying to push the unwanted thoughts from her mind, she got quickly to her feet and headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Her reflection greeted her as she gazed into the bathroom mirror, and in a way it made her feel a little better. If she had been a vampire, like in her dream, she wouldn’t even have had a reflection.

She turned on the tap and washed her hands thoroughly, as if trying to wash away the memories of her dream. But although her hands came clean, the taint that covered her mind remained.

‘So I die, and then become a slut? And...and a vampire, too?’ She wasn’t really sure which one was worse, although if she looked at the big picture, she suspected that vampire trumped slut. But still, both were pretty horrifying.

Dreams were the subconscious’ way of sending a message, she knew. The more she thought about it, the more she understood what that message was. And as much as she hated to admit it, she had to admit that Xander was right.

As charming as he could be, there was no way she could trust Angelus. Because if she did, he would kill her.

End of Chapter 13

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