Scene rewrite from The Bloom on the Rose
Sep. 30th, 2010 07:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonyphoenixNote: This is a writing exercise: Take any passage you have written in the first person and recast it in the objective voice. Try to reveal the thoughts and feelings of the original through speech, gesture, action, and image.
Story I Used: The Bloom on the Rose. If you are interested in seeing the scene I rewrote, follow the link and search on Drusilla’s at me again.
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Mainly Angelus and Willow but a bit of Drusilla and Spike as well.
Rating: NC-17
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Summary: Angelus manipulating Willow
Note: Jessa's tattoo is a combination of a tattoo I saw on the Metro and my imagination.
Angelus watched carefully, a half-smirk on his lips, as Drusilla slashed at Willow through the bars of the cage. Each slash was accompanied by a hiss, which was all the warning Willow – who had been blindfolded for weeks – got. Cuts, both old and new, were clearly visible through the tears in Willow's clothes. As Drusilla hissed again, without slashing her sharp fingernails into tender skin, Willow, never knowing whether or not to expect an attack, pulled her arms more tightly over her face. At a nod from Angelus, Spike wheeled over to Drusilla to call her away from the cage.
At Spike's words, Willow relaxed her arms, obviously thinking the attacks were over for the evening, or at least for a little while. Drusilla's hand darted into the cage. She pulled Willow's arm out and sank fangs into wrist. Angelus stood, the command to stop heavy on his lips, but Willow's reaction was wrong. She seemed almost relieved. When she whispered “finally”, Angelus smiled. Finally indeed. His Willow was ready.
“Dru” he shouted as if displeased with her.
When Drusilla dropped the arm, Willow didn't pull it back into the cage. Knowing she'd done well, Drusilla looked at Angelus expectantly. “When can I have her Daddy?”
Angelus affectionately kissed the top of her head, but shouted, “You do not touch her. Out. Everyone out.” When he gave Drusilla a loud smack on the behind, to send her on her way, Willow startled.
In the past, the sound of the key in the lock had sent Willow scurrying to the back of her cage. She blinked but otherwise didn't move. As he lifted her through the doorway, Angelus took care not to hit her head against the bars. A minion silently laid a pitcher of water and a glass on the ground next to where Angelus held Willow in his lap.
Angelus waited until they were alone before removing Willow's blindfold. Even though the room was dim, Willow blinked as if blinded by the brightest sunlight.
Cradling Willow in one arm, Angelus poured water into the glass and held it to Willow's mouth. Her cracked lips moaned “no” as she tried to shy away from the drink. Although he got most of the water into her, tiny rivulets flowed down her jaw and neck before being soaked up by the sweater.
Angelus shushed Willow with soothing nonsense syllables such as a mother would sing over her baby. When Willow had downed half the pitcher, he curled both arms around her and started rocking back and forth. He continued the rocking motion even after she'd fallen asleep, but the words changed. “Soon, Willow. Soon I'll hold your will in the palm of my hand like a small, fragile bird.”
Half the night has passed away before Willow woke. Brushing the hair from her eyes, Angelus asked, “How are you, little one?”
Willow blinked slowly and didn't speak.
Angelus pulled her up until her head was resting on his shoulder. “Willow, you know I want to protect you, right?”
Willow struggled weakly in his arms.
Angelus hushed Willow even though she hadn't spoken. “Have some more water,” he added. After Willow had finished off the pitcher, he said, “I do want to protect you, but I need a bit of help. You do believe I want to keep you safe, right?”
“Umm,” Willow's gaze darted around the room as if she didn't know where she was.
“What's wrong?”
“I feel kinda dizzy,” she said.
“And we'll take care of that soon, but I need you to do something for me first. Can you do that?”
“Maybe?” Willow murmured uncertainly. “What is it?”
“I need you to wear my mark. It'll warn the others that you're under my protection. Do you think you could do that?”
“Like a necklace or ring or something?” When Angelus didn't respond, she added, “Ummm, OK.”
“Are you certain?” he pressed.
“Sure, I mean, I think so,” Willow said vaguely.
“Good girl,” Angelus whispered. He brushed the back of his hand along Willow's cheek until she'd stopped gazing around the room and was staring straight at him. He shifted into vamp-face.
Willow screamed and tried pushed herself away.
“Why Willow, what's wrong?” he asked, shifting back to human-face. “You agreed to my mark.”
“A bite? That's your mark?”
“Of course.” Angelus let his gaze turn inwards. He hushed Willow, stroking his hands down her back until her active struggle to get out of his arms had turned into passive tremblings. He pulled her to him, not allowing a smirk of victory to flash across his lips until her head was buried in his shoulder. “I'm sorry, Willow. I didn't think about how it would seem to a human, but I do need you to do this. You're vulnerable outside of the cage, but if you bore my mark, no one would touch you. You'd be safe.”
Burying her head more tightly against Angelus' shoulder, Willow reached up a hand and covered her neck. “There is another option,” he whispered.
As Willow pulled her head up, Angelus shifted his expression to a look of concern. Willow carefully didn't look at him though. She glanced towards the cage and rubbed her hand over her neck. “Another option?”
His arms hugged her more tightly to him. “Willow, are you sure? The third option,” he looked down as if in thought. “It would hurt.”
Willow curled in over herself, seeming to shrink in Angelus' arms. “And a bite wouldn't?”
Angelus kissed the top of her head. “I won't lie to you. Yes, if I bit you, it would hurt, but it would be quick, and I promise I wouldn't drain you. I've been a vampire a long time and can control my urge to feed. I'd only take a bit of your blood.” He nuzzled his lips through her hair. “I really would love to taste you.”
“I'm sure,” Willow shrieked.
Tickling under Willow's chin, Angelus raised her face until she was looking at him again. Her eyes were huge. “I'm certain,” she said.
He stared at her for a long moment, as if considering. Snapping his fingers, he called out, “Bring Jessa to me. Tell her I need a mark.”
Willow heard something heavy being set onto a table. As she looked up, an arm caught her attention. It was covered in what looked like random patterns until, after Willow had blinked a few times, she recognized them as tattos. The first she noticed was an eyeball, somewhat elongated, with a tear dripping down. It joined what, at first seemed to be other tears, but as a whole they seemed to shift, the drop becoming larger and the smaller end turning almost into a tail. They seemed to be swimming up the arm, but Willow couldn't quite think what they might be until she recalled a video she'd been shown at school. Sperm. The tattoos were sperm, racing up the arm towards something that could be a tail of some large animal. As the arm turned, Willow saw it wasn't a tail at all, but a horn, attached to a tattoo of a demon skull. It's black eyes drew Willow in. She couldn't look away.
“Willow,” Angelus shouted. He called her name twice more before she came out of her daze enough to focus on him. “I need you to come back now. Jessa is ready to mark you.”
“Huh?”
“Do you know what we're doing here?” he asked.
Willow saw a machine with needles and ink laid out to the side. Reaching a hand out, she said, “My mother did a paper on the relationship between youth culture and tribal markings.” She pulled her hand back, wrapping it around her shoulders. “A tattoo?” she whispered.
“Can you do this for me?” Angelus asked.
“But,” she started.
“This is for your protection, Willow. We're only doing this so you'll be safe.”
Willow looked towards the cage and started shaking.
“Shhh,” Angelus said. “Just a little pain and nobody will hurt you ever again.”
“I don't know if I can.”
“Trust me,” Angelus said. “You know me; you know I won't hurt you.”
“I knew Angel,” Willow said.
“I am Angel. I just want to make you safe here. Let me make you safe.” He brushed a hand over her hair. “If you want, I'll hold you in my arms until it's done.”
“Please,” Willow said.
Taking that for acquiescence, Angelus pulled Willow to his chest, wrapping one arm over her torso and holding her head against him with the other. Jessa pulled back Willow's hair to expose her neck. As the needle hit her skin, Willow let out a scream. The sound was a cry, a moan, a wail of pure terror – it was a mixture of all three and more besides. Angelus smiled as he held Willow more tightly to him.
Jessa pulled the needle away and Willow jerked in Angelus' arms. “Shhhh, Willow. It's OK. You're doing so well. You're being such a brave girl for me.” As Willow stopped struggling, he added, “There's more to do. She's going to bring the needle back. Are you ready?”
Willow dug a hand into Angelus' leg. “Good,” he whispered. She didn't scream again. Her breathing instinctively shifted to a series of shallow pants that helped her handle the pain, but the marking was obviously taking all the strength she had. By the time Jessa started putting the ink and needles away, Angelus' arms were the only thing holding Willow up.
He stood and carried Willow to a red, velvet couch, pulling a cover over her and watching her until she fell asleep. At a snap of fingers, a minion came running in. “Watch her,” Angelus ordered. “And call me when she stirs. If I'm not the first thing Willow sees upon awakening, I'll personally make sure it takes weeks for you to die.”
When Willow woke, Angelus was kneeling by her side. “Hey, sleepy,” he said, drifting a finger across her cheek.
Willow shrank back into the couch. “Willow,” he asked, “what's wrong? You're safe now.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I don't want anyone to hurt you,” he said as he swept her off the couch. Willow grabbed onto him. “Are you all right?”
“Dizzy,” she answered.
“I'll make sure you get food later,” he said as he strode across the room. Giving an exaggerated sniff he added, “But first we need to get you cleaned up.”
Willow didn't respond but peered over his shoulder, as if getting her bearings, as he walked up the spiraling staircase. He took her into a room, that had numbers marked in gold on the door, through a bedroom, and into the bathroom. A dozen holders, placed high on the wall, each held the pale white candles that provided the only light in the room.
“I'm going to put you down now if you think you can stand,” Angelus said.
Willow nodded. He placed her on her feet but kept his hands around her waist, holding her steady as she grabbed onto the counter. Willow looked up and caught sight of herself in the mirror. She gasped. As she lifted one hand towards the mark on her neck, Angelus held her more tightly. “I've got you.” Willow stared at the stylized angel, tattooed in black ink on her neck, for long moments until Angelus said, “The water will be getting cold.”
“Water?” she asked, looking for the first time at the tub.
Angelus released her waist. She held on more tightly to the counter but didn't fall. “Undress,” he ordered as he closed the door.
“I can bathe myself,” Willow said, looking down towards the sink.
Chuckling at her words, Angelus said, “Willow, you can barely even stand. Please, let me do this one little thing for you.”
Willow pressed down onto the sink to stand herself up. After a moment, she released the pressure on her hands, testing if she could stand. She didn't want to let Angelus undress her. “If I could sit?” Angelus blocked the door. “Maybe on the toilet? I could, I think I could undress that way.”
Wishing Angelus wasn't starting at her so avidly, or at all really, Willow took her time with her clothes – unhooking each button with shaking hands, slowly unlacing her sneakers, and folding her clothes carefully. Because she was too weak to stand and undress, Angelus had to pull her jeans down. He knelt there, gazing up at her naked body while she covered herself as best she could with hands and arms.
Angelus brushed against Willow as he stood. She wanted to step away, but there was no room. He took hold of her arm, saying, “Let me help you in. You're still weak, and I don't want you to get hurt.” He steadied Willow as she stepped into the tub and helped down. When it looked like she might sink into the clear water, he told her to sit up. “You need to keep the tattoo dry.”
Wrapping her arms around herself, Willow turned her back towards Angelus but couldn't resist peeking back, with small jabs of her head, to check where he was. As he lathered soap into a white washcloth, Willow stammered, “I can do that myself.”
“Lean forward so I can wash your back.” As she did as he asked, Willow looked surprised, as if she didn't understand why she was obeying him. He gently washed around the slashes Dru had left in her skin, cupping water in his hands to rinse off the soap. A few of the more recent wounds opened as he washed around them, and the blood trickled down her back. Angelus brushed a finger up the thickest rivulet, but stopped when Willow jumped. Washing his hand quickly in the water, he said, “Relax, you're too tense.” When she didn't respond, he sighed and said, “I won't hurt you, Willow.”
She inched further away from him. “Then let me go.”
“I'm not going to do that.”
Willow turned her head to look at him. “Why? Is this a trap for Buffy?”
“This isn't about Buffy,” he said, sounding disappointed. “Now hush. Let me bathe you.”
As Angelus stroked the washcloth down her arm, close to her breast, she quickly covered herself with her other arm. As he washed up her arm, closer to her breasts, Willow couldn't resist letting out a small whimper. Angelus acted as if he hadn't heard as he washed the cloth across her breasts. Willow jerked back against the edge of the tub, but he continued washing as if nothing untoward had happened.
Willow scrunched up her face, closing her eyes, as if not seeing would make it all go away as Angelus' hand caressed the cloth down south, but then he veered off to her legs. He took particular care washing her feet, massaging them and rubbing between her toes, so that Willow felt the tension drain out of her as the water drained out of the tub. When she struggled to stand, Angelus placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Wait,” he said.
Willow, too worn out to argue, fell against the back of the tub, her eyes felt heavy and had almost drifted shut before Angelus returned to her side. Leaning over the edge of the tub, Angelus drew Willow forward enough to wrap her in a towel before lifting her up. Willow collapsed against him but struggled to stay awake. She had some vague idea that she should be afraid, but it was hard to keep her eyes open.
He carried her into the bedroom and sat her on it's only chair, a heavily cushioned thing, so comfortable that, as she sank down into it, she felt that she'd never get up again. The towel fell open and Willow pulled it back across herself with a hand that flopped across her chest and fell onto her lap.
She barely noticed when Angelus stroked a hand down her matted hair. “I'm sorry we couldn't wash your hair,” he said, as if she'd even thought about it, “but there was no way to keep the tattoo dry.” He picked up a brush from a side table but then, seeing how worn out Willow was, put it back down with a sigh. “You have the most beautiful hair I've ever seen,” he whispered. “Even in the dimmest light, it shimmers a thousand shades of red.” A tear rolled down Willow's cheek. “Don't worry, my sweet, it'll be just as lovely again. Trust me. In the candlelight, your hair will shine like a dark flame drawing even darker moths to your side.”
Taking up a second towel, he gently dried Willow's arms and legs before carrying her to the bed. He tucked her in and then knelt down by her side. “Sleep,” he said. Angelus waited there until Willow was overwhelmed by exhaustion. “Dead to the world,” he said as he stood, towering above her.
“Mine,” he added, brushing his fingers around the edges of her tattoo.
Story I Used: The Bloom on the Rose. If you are interested in seeing the scene I rewrote, follow the link and search on Drusilla’s at me again.
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Mainly Angelus and Willow but a bit of Drusilla and Spike as well.
Rating: NC-17
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Summary: Angelus manipulating Willow
Note: Jessa's tattoo is a combination of a tattoo I saw on the Metro and my imagination.
Angelus watched carefully, a half-smirk on his lips, as Drusilla slashed at Willow through the bars of the cage. Each slash was accompanied by a hiss, which was all the warning Willow – who had been blindfolded for weeks – got. Cuts, both old and new, were clearly visible through the tears in Willow's clothes. As Drusilla hissed again, without slashing her sharp fingernails into tender skin, Willow, never knowing whether or not to expect an attack, pulled her arms more tightly over her face. At a nod from Angelus, Spike wheeled over to Drusilla to call her away from the cage.
At Spike's words, Willow relaxed her arms, obviously thinking the attacks were over for the evening, or at least for a little while. Drusilla's hand darted into the cage. She pulled Willow's arm out and sank fangs into wrist. Angelus stood, the command to stop heavy on his lips, but Willow's reaction was wrong. She seemed almost relieved. When she whispered “finally”, Angelus smiled. Finally indeed. His Willow was ready.
“Dru” he shouted as if displeased with her.
When Drusilla dropped the arm, Willow didn't pull it back into the cage. Knowing she'd done well, Drusilla looked at Angelus expectantly. “When can I have her Daddy?”
Angelus affectionately kissed the top of her head, but shouted, “You do not touch her. Out. Everyone out.” When he gave Drusilla a loud smack on the behind, to send her on her way, Willow startled.
In the past, the sound of the key in the lock had sent Willow scurrying to the back of her cage. She blinked but otherwise didn't move. As he lifted her through the doorway, Angelus took care not to hit her head against the bars. A minion silently laid a pitcher of water and a glass on the ground next to where Angelus held Willow in his lap.
Angelus waited until they were alone before removing Willow's blindfold. Even though the room was dim, Willow blinked as if blinded by the brightest sunlight.
Cradling Willow in one arm, Angelus poured water into the glass and held it to Willow's mouth. Her cracked lips moaned “no” as she tried to shy away from the drink. Although he got most of the water into her, tiny rivulets flowed down her jaw and neck before being soaked up by the sweater.
Angelus shushed Willow with soothing nonsense syllables such as a mother would sing over her baby. When Willow had downed half the pitcher, he curled both arms around her and started rocking back and forth. He continued the rocking motion even after she'd fallen asleep, but the words changed. “Soon, Willow. Soon I'll hold your will in the palm of my hand like a small, fragile bird.”
Half the night has passed away before Willow woke. Brushing the hair from her eyes, Angelus asked, “How are you, little one?”
Willow blinked slowly and didn't speak.
Angelus pulled her up until her head was resting on his shoulder. “Willow, you know I want to protect you, right?”
Willow struggled weakly in his arms.
Angelus hushed Willow even though she hadn't spoken. “Have some more water,” he added. After Willow had finished off the pitcher, he said, “I do want to protect you, but I need a bit of help. You do believe I want to keep you safe, right?”
“Umm,” Willow's gaze darted around the room as if she didn't know where she was.
“What's wrong?”
“I feel kinda dizzy,” she said.
“And we'll take care of that soon, but I need you to do something for me first. Can you do that?”
“Maybe?” Willow murmured uncertainly. “What is it?”
“I need you to wear my mark. It'll warn the others that you're under my protection. Do you think you could do that?”
“Like a necklace or ring or something?” When Angelus didn't respond, she added, “Ummm, OK.”
“Are you certain?” he pressed.
“Sure, I mean, I think so,” Willow said vaguely.
“Good girl,” Angelus whispered. He brushed the back of his hand along Willow's cheek until she'd stopped gazing around the room and was staring straight at him. He shifted into vamp-face.
Willow screamed and tried pushed herself away.
“Why Willow, what's wrong?” he asked, shifting back to human-face. “You agreed to my mark.”
“A bite? That's your mark?”
“Of course.” Angelus let his gaze turn inwards. He hushed Willow, stroking his hands down her back until her active struggle to get out of his arms had turned into passive tremblings. He pulled her to him, not allowing a smirk of victory to flash across his lips until her head was buried in his shoulder. “I'm sorry, Willow. I didn't think about how it would seem to a human, but I do need you to do this. You're vulnerable outside of the cage, but if you bore my mark, no one would touch you. You'd be safe.”
Burying her head more tightly against Angelus' shoulder, Willow reached up a hand and covered her neck. “There is another option,” he whispered.
As Willow pulled her head up, Angelus shifted his expression to a look of concern. Willow carefully didn't look at him though. She glanced towards the cage and rubbed her hand over her neck. “Another option?”
His arms hugged her more tightly to him. “Willow, are you sure? The third option,” he looked down as if in thought. “It would hurt.”
Willow curled in over herself, seeming to shrink in Angelus' arms. “And a bite wouldn't?”
Angelus kissed the top of her head. “I won't lie to you. Yes, if I bit you, it would hurt, but it would be quick, and I promise I wouldn't drain you. I've been a vampire a long time and can control my urge to feed. I'd only take a bit of your blood.” He nuzzled his lips through her hair. “I really would love to taste you.”
“I'm sure,” Willow shrieked.
Tickling under Willow's chin, Angelus raised her face until she was looking at him again. Her eyes were huge. “I'm certain,” she said.
He stared at her for a long moment, as if considering. Snapping his fingers, he called out, “Bring Jessa to me. Tell her I need a mark.”
Willow heard something heavy being set onto a table. As she looked up, an arm caught her attention. It was covered in what looked like random patterns until, after Willow had blinked a few times, she recognized them as tattos. The first she noticed was an eyeball, somewhat elongated, with a tear dripping down. It joined what, at first seemed to be other tears, but as a whole they seemed to shift, the drop becoming larger and the smaller end turning almost into a tail. They seemed to be swimming up the arm, but Willow couldn't quite think what they might be until she recalled a video she'd been shown at school. Sperm. The tattoos were sperm, racing up the arm towards something that could be a tail of some large animal. As the arm turned, Willow saw it wasn't a tail at all, but a horn, attached to a tattoo of a demon skull. It's black eyes drew Willow in. She couldn't look away.
“Willow,” Angelus shouted. He called her name twice more before she came out of her daze enough to focus on him. “I need you to come back now. Jessa is ready to mark you.”
“Huh?”
“Do you know what we're doing here?” he asked.
Willow saw a machine with needles and ink laid out to the side. Reaching a hand out, she said, “My mother did a paper on the relationship between youth culture and tribal markings.” She pulled her hand back, wrapping it around her shoulders. “A tattoo?” she whispered.
“Can you do this for me?” Angelus asked.
“But,” she started.
“This is for your protection, Willow. We're only doing this so you'll be safe.”
Willow looked towards the cage and started shaking.
“Shhh,” Angelus said. “Just a little pain and nobody will hurt you ever again.”
“I don't know if I can.”
“Trust me,” Angelus said. “You know me; you know I won't hurt you.”
“I knew Angel,” Willow said.
“I am Angel. I just want to make you safe here. Let me make you safe.” He brushed a hand over her hair. “If you want, I'll hold you in my arms until it's done.”
“Please,” Willow said.
Taking that for acquiescence, Angelus pulled Willow to his chest, wrapping one arm over her torso and holding her head against him with the other. Jessa pulled back Willow's hair to expose her neck. As the needle hit her skin, Willow let out a scream. The sound was a cry, a moan, a wail of pure terror – it was a mixture of all three and more besides. Angelus smiled as he held Willow more tightly to him.
Jessa pulled the needle away and Willow jerked in Angelus' arms. “Shhhh, Willow. It's OK. You're doing so well. You're being such a brave girl for me.” As Willow stopped struggling, he added, “There's more to do. She's going to bring the needle back. Are you ready?”
Willow dug a hand into Angelus' leg. “Good,” he whispered. She didn't scream again. Her breathing instinctively shifted to a series of shallow pants that helped her handle the pain, but the marking was obviously taking all the strength she had. By the time Jessa started putting the ink and needles away, Angelus' arms were the only thing holding Willow up.
He stood and carried Willow to a red, velvet couch, pulling a cover over her and watching her until she fell asleep. At a snap of fingers, a minion came running in. “Watch her,” Angelus ordered. “And call me when she stirs. If I'm not the first thing Willow sees upon awakening, I'll personally make sure it takes weeks for you to die.”
When Willow woke, Angelus was kneeling by her side. “Hey, sleepy,” he said, drifting a finger across her cheek.
Willow shrank back into the couch. “Willow,” he asked, “what's wrong? You're safe now.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I don't want anyone to hurt you,” he said as he swept her off the couch. Willow grabbed onto him. “Are you all right?”
“Dizzy,” she answered.
“I'll make sure you get food later,” he said as he strode across the room. Giving an exaggerated sniff he added, “But first we need to get you cleaned up.”
Willow didn't respond but peered over his shoulder, as if getting her bearings, as he walked up the spiraling staircase. He took her into a room, that had numbers marked in gold on the door, through a bedroom, and into the bathroom. A dozen holders, placed high on the wall, each held the pale white candles that provided the only light in the room.
“I'm going to put you down now if you think you can stand,” Angelus said.
Willow nodded. He placed her on her feet but kept his hands around her waist, holding her steady as she grabbed onto the counter. Willow looked up and caught sight of herself in the mirror. She gasped. As she lifted one hand towards the mark on her neck, Angelus held her more tightly. “I've got you.” Willow stared at the stylized angel, tattooed in black ink on her neck, for long moments until Angelus said, “The water will be getting cold.”
“Water?” she asked, looking for the first time at the tub.
Angelus released her waist. She held on more tightly to the counter but didn't fall. “Undress,” he ordered as he closed the door.
“I can bathe myself,” Willow said, looking down towards the sink.
Chuckling at her words, Angelus said, “Willow, you can barely even stand. Please, let me do this one little thing for you.”
Willow pressed down onto the sink to stand herself up. After a moment, she released the pressure on her hands, testing if she could stand. She didn't want to let Angelus undress her. “If I could sit?” Angelus blocked the door. “Maybe on the toilet? I could, I think I could undress that way.”
Wishing Angelus wasn't starting at her so avidly, or at all really, Willow took her time with her clothes – unhooking each button with shaking hands, slowly unlacing her sneakers, and folding her clothes carefully. Because she was too weak to stand and undress, Angelus had to pull her jeans down. He knelt there, gazing up at her naked body while she covered herself as best she could with hands and arms.
Angelus brushed against Willow as he stood. She wanted to step away, but there was no room. He took hold of her arm, saying, “Let me help you in. You're still weak, and I don't want you to get hurt.” He steadied Willow as she stepped into the tub and helped down. When it looked like she might sink into the clear water, he told her to sit up. “You need to keep the tattoo dry.”
Wrapping her arms around herself, Willow turned her back towards Angelus but couldn't resist peeking back, with small jabs of her head, to check where he was. As he lathered soap into a white washcloth, Willow stammered, “I can do that myself.”
“Lean forward so I can wash your back.” As she did as he asked, Willow looked surprised, as if she didn't understand why she was obeying him. He gently washed around the slashes Dru had left in her skin, cupping water in his hands to rinse off the soap. A few of the more recent wounds opened as he washed around them, and the blood trickled down her back. Angelus brushed a finger up the thickest rivulet, but stopped when Willow jumped. Washing his hand quickly in the water, he said, “Relax, you're too tense.” When she didn't respond, he sighed and said, “I won't hurt you, Willow.”
She inched further away from him. “Then let me go.”
“I'm not going to do that.”
Willow turned her head to look at him. “Why? Is this a trap for Buffy?”
“This isn't about Buffy,” he said, sounding disappointed. “Now hush. Let me bathe you.”
As Angelus stroked the washcloth down her arm, close to her breast, she quickly covered herself with her other arm. As he washed up her arm, closer to her breasts, Willow couldn't resist letting out a small whimper. Angelus acted as if he hadn't heard as he washed the cloth across her breasts. Willow jerked back against the edge of the tub, but he continued washing as if nothing untoward had happened.
Willow scrunched up her face, closing her eyes, as if not seeing would make it all go away as Angelus' hand caressed the cloth down south, but then he veered off to her legs. He took particular care washing her feet, massaging them and rubbing between her toes, so that Willow felt the tension drain out of her as the water drained out of the tub. When she struggled to stand, Angelus placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Wait,” he said.
Willow, too worn out to argue, fell against the back of the tub, her eyes felt heavy and had almost drifted shut before Angelus returned to her side. Leaning over the edge of the tub, Angelus drew Willow forward enough to wrap her in a towel before lifting her up. Willow collapsed against him but struggled to stay awake. She had some vague idea that she should be afraid, but it was hard to keep her eyes open.
He carried her into the bedroom and sat her on it's only chair, a heavily cushioned thing, so comfortable that, as she sank down into it, she felt that she'd never get up again. The towel fell open and Willow pulled it back across herself with a hand that flopped across her chest and fell onto her lap.
She barely noticed when Angelus stroked a hand down her matted hair. “I'm sorry we couldn't wash your hair,” he said, as if she'd even thought about it, “but there was no way to keep the tattoo dry.” He picked up a brush from a side table but then, seeing how worn out Willow was, put it back down with a sigh. “You have the most beautiful hair I've ever seen,” he whispered. “Even in the dimmest light, it shimmers a thousand shades of red.” A tear rolled down Willow's cheek. “Don't worry, my sweet, it'll be just as lovely again. Trust me. In the candlelight, your hair will shine like a dark flame drawing even darker moths to your side.”
Taking up a second towel, he gently dried Willow's arms and legs before carrying her to the bed. He tucked her in and then knelt down by her side. “Sleep,” he said. Angelus waited there until Willow was overwhelmed by exhaustion. “Dead to the world,” he said as he stood, towering above her.
“Mine,” he added, brushing his fingers around the edges of her tattoo.
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Date: 2010-10-01 01:26 am (UTC)Gabrielle
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Date: 2010-10-01 01:43 am (UTC)I love that you have the icon from when Angelus grabbed Willow in Innocence since that's when The Bloom on the Rose starts! Also, it's a great scene. Angelus can be so much more interesting than Angel.
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Date: 2010-10-01 11:50 pm (UTC)My earliest stories were written in first person, but I have, mostly, shifted away from it over time.
I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for commenting.