dragonyphoenix (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragonyphoenix) wrote2010-11-29 11:14 am
dragonyphoenix) wrote2010-11-29 11:14 am
Fic: Conjuring Love From the Ashes of an Old Flame 4/7
Title: Conjuring Love From the Ashes of an Old Flame
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: It starts out as Spike/Dru and Buffy/Angel, but then there are a couple of love spells so we get Willow/Angelus, Willow/Angel, Willow/Yarn!Spike, Willow/Spike
Rating: R-rated
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.
Warnings/Squicks: While the sex isn't non-con, with Angelus as a partner it's not like it's going to be lovey-dovey sweet
Summary: Drusilla has a way to bring Angelus back. Unfortunately she needs Spike's ashes to do it.
Note: Written for a bad_swa prompt – conjure
Note: The Spike doll is based on two knitted Spikes by whichclothes
Note: The awesome banner was created by Shaken Silence
Note: Set after Bandy Candy but before Revelations
Note: The invocation calls on Diana as Goddess of both Love and the Hunt. Yes, I do know that Venus is the Goddess of Love but I'm using the invocation verbatim from the episode where Amy does a love spell for Xander.
Master Index for the story
Drusilla, who'd watched Angel make love to Willow with unveiled interest, left when Daddy started kissing the girl. Angelus didn't appreciate being spied upon and was good at taking out his displeasure on others. Besides, she knew Daddy would come looking for her soon enough.
She assumed Daddy was happy to be back, but Spike didn't seem pleased. Of course, he'd been upset ever since she'd dusted him. Drusilla didn't see what his problem was; she'd told him the ashes were important, and she'd made him a new body, one that wouldn't allow him to threated Daddy. Why couldn't he see it was better this way?
“You honestly think Angelus is going to have time for you now that you've got him loving Willow?” The pain in Spike's voice, even if that voice could only be heard inside her head, put Drusilla on guard, and she decided not to tell him that Angelus didn't love Willow.
Instead, Drusilla kissed the doll and said, “Silly thing, haven't you learned yet? Love is never eternal.”
The next morning, while rummaging through her locker and trying to justify why she was at school rather than in Angelus' arms, someone tickled fingers over her shoulder. She screamed.
“Whoa,” Oz said.
“What are you doing here?” she said in an artificially chipper voice.
“Wondering what's wrong with you.”
“Wrong? There's nothing wrong. Why should anything be wrong?” Willow babbled.
“For one, you just hit the ceiling.”
“Oh.” She wasn't sure what to say. She couldn't tell him the truth, that she was lost in thoughts of Angelus, but she couldn't think up a lie.
“Is it about Drusilla?” he asked.
“Drusilla?” she replied, wondering what he meant. “Oh,” she said, realizing he was referring to the night Drusilla had stolen her pencil. “Yes, because she's a big, scary vampire, and well not big compared to Angelus.” Willow trailed off there, certain she should not have mentioned Angelus. She wasn't supposed to let on that he was back.”
“Willow, it's OK. I get it. Delayed reaction to vampire attack. Not like we haven't all been there,” he said.
“Right,” Willow said with a nervous laugh.
He laid his hand on her arm, and Willow could tell he meant it as comfort, but all she wanted to do was pull away and race off to Angelus to beg forgiveness for letting someone else touch her. “You're OK though?” he asked.
Willow put on her best brave soldier face and agreed that she was fine.
Apparently she convinced him because he changed the topic. “You're coming to the Bronze tonight, right?”
“No!” Willow shouted, appalled at the idea of anything that would keep her away from Angelus. “I mean, big history test tomorrow. I have to study. History is important because if you don't know you're history then you don't know where you came from or even who you are.”
“You said you were ready for that test.”
“Well,” she replied, “I thought so, but now I'm feeling less than ready.”
The bell rang. “Gotta go, or I'll be late,” he said, backing down the hall. He paused and gave her a concerned look. “You sure you're OK?”
“Yeah,” she said with a chipper smile that felt forced but must have looked all right because he merely nodded before sauntering down the hall.
Willow's first class was advanced French, which her friends weren't taking. She usually found it discouraging to be in a class without Buffy and Xander, but that day it was a blessing because Willow was finding it hard to concentrate on anything outside of Angelus. Less than ten hours until dusk, and surely Angelus would be at her door as soon as the sunlight, or lack thereof, let him, especially given how hard Willow found it to be away from him for even an hour much less the entire day. It must be torturing him, waiting and wanting but unable to reach out because, ouch, sunlight would totally kill him, and maybe it was time to think about something more pleasant. She thought about how romantic it would be if they could speak French to each other, and then wondered if he spoke French. He probably did, given that he'd had over a hundred years to pick up the language, if he'd wanted to. It seemed strange to be so in love but know so little about him. The killing and torture, sure she had plenty of details on that from Giles, but she didn't know Angelus the man or, well, vampire. What did he love? What did he hate? There was Buffy; he hated her. He must because he wanted Willow to spy on her. He had loved Buffy, but that had been Angel, not Angelus, which made it sort of OK. He'd better not love Buffy. No, he wanted to kill Buffy. That meant he must hate her. You don't kill people you love. If Buffy were already dead, then the whole did her or didn't he question would go away. Maybe she could kill Buffy for him. It wasn't like she could take Buffy in a fight, but Buffy trusted her. It would be easy to sneak poison into, well, something. No, that probably wouldn't be a good idea. She was sure Angelus would want to kill Buffy himself.
Willow's next class was chemistry, held in the science classroom, the room with the skeleton. It was only plastic but, based on what she'd seen of bones after fighting demons for three years, pretty realistic. Buffy was already sitting at a table, looking over her notes, when Willow plopped down next to her. “So, what'cha going to do about Angelus?” Willow wanted to clap a hand over her mouth. Not only was that like the lamest of lame lines ever, but she'd mentioned Angelus again. Maybe she wasn't good at keeping secrets.
“What?” Buffy almost shouted. Yep, really bad with the secrets.
“Angel! Angel, Angel, Angel,” she babbled. “I was just wondering how it was going with you and Angel, and not Angelus at all because of course he's not back because we'd be finding dead puppies and fish and stuff.”
“OK, calm down Willow. How much coffee have you had today?”
“Um, none?”
“Willow,” Buffy admonished.
Willow, who really hadn't had any coffee although that was sort of surprising because she'd been up all night, what with releasing Angelus and all, so she should be really tired, but...
“Willow?” Buffy asked.
Willow squealed as Buffy snapped fingers in her face. “Maybe a cup or two,” she lied, wanting to give Buffy a reason why she was so jumpy. “I kinda didn't get much sleep.” She shut up, afraid if she started rambling she'd get into why she hadn't slept, which would lead to Angelus and that would lead to big badness.
“It's OK,” Buffy said, putting a hand on Willow's. “I talked to Oz. He told me.”
“Told you what?” Willow asked, wondering how much he knew and how he even could know there was anything to know much less what it was.
“You don't have to put on a brave face. I know you're more freaked out by Drusilla than you're letting on,” Buffy said.
“Oh that,” Willow replied. “Well, I just didn't want you to think I'm a scaredy cat or anything.”
“Nobody thinks that. Drusilla is a seriously creepy vampire, sort of disturbing with her mental problems, but it's not like that makes her any less evil. I just want you to know I'm here if you want to talk about it.”
“Ummm, could we maybe not talk about me anymore?” Willow asked.
“OK, but you do know I'm here for you, right?” Willow nodded but didn't speak. After a moment Buffy added, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make a big deal out of this, from now on I'll be small-deal Buffy.”
“I was sort of serious when I asked about Angel,” Willow said, wanting to both change the subject and get information for Angelus.
Buffy sighed. “It's not.” Willow repressed a grin of triumph, hating the thought of Buffy with Angel; even if he wasn't Angelus, he was almost Angelus, and he was hers. “We can't do anything so it's all looky and no touchy.” Willow gripped the tabletop so fiercely, at the thought of Buffy touching Angel, that her knuckles whitened under the pressure but, knowing Angelus wanted her in the Slayer's good graces, she came up with some sort of comforting comment and tried not to let her anger show as Buffy droned on about how tough it all was.
Willow spent the rest of the day in a blur, hardly noticing anything around herself, giving the world as little attention as possible, going through the motions of her life without actually being there any more than she had to. She left school as soon as she could without looking like she was ducking out and thought about casually walking over to Crawford Street – just to take a look at the mansion and not to go in at all because Angelus had said not to and she didn't want to do anything he didn't want her to – but headed home instead and waited for dusk.
He didn't come. Willow kept looking out the windows, checking to see if he was there, but he never was. Two hours had passed before she allowed herself to admit he wasn't coming to her. She forced herself to wait, because what if he did come to her while she was out going to him? After another hour, Willow decided she couldn't wait anymore and took off to find him.
The mansion seemed empty. “Hello?” she called out, standing in the doorway because that wasn't quite coming to him since she was still outside. Even if it really was disobeying, maybe she could convince him it wasn't. She was afraid to call out again, or to even be there without Angelus to protect her, because what if he had minions who didn't know that she was his true love, and they killed her before she could convince them? Still, she couldn't stand in the doorway all night. Someone might see her from the road, and that would definitely be disobeying since he didn't want anyone, meaning Buffy mostly, to know about their relationship.
Willow wandered until she found a bedroom. With its black silk sheets and his clothes in the closet, it had to be Angelus', but some of Drusilla's things were scattered across the floor. Willow wished she'd stabbed that pencil through Drusilla's heart when she'd had the chance. Resentful that Drusilla got to be with Angelus when she didn't, Willow started scrounging through the leather bag, the one Drusilla had carried the love spell components in, and found the doll that Drusilla had said was Spike. Willow felt as if a weight had been lifted off of her. “You poor thing,” she said, stroking the doll. “Have you been left all alone?”
On an impulse she whispered “me too” and kissed the doll. She could feel Spike kissing her back, his tongue slipping into her mouth and sliding against hers. She pulled the doll away and stared at it. How could a bunch of yarn make her feel like Spike had really kissed her? She brought the doll to her lips, bit at its neck, and made a face as she spat out yarn. Bleh. As she tried to work through what had just happened, wondering if she was perhaps losing her mind, Willow lowered her arm, accidentally brushing the doll against herself. Gentle teeth bit a line down her breast. “Oh,” she gasped as she angled the doll towards her nipple. Willow arched forward, and he took more in, sucking and nibbling and easing off to lick long lazy spirals around the curve of her breast.
“Oh my love,” Willow moaned, so lost in sensation that she no longer realized she was talking to a doll. Throwing herself on top of the black sheets, Willow lifted up her skirt and pulled the doll southwards. Kisses peppered their way down her belly only stopping when slow claps sounded from the doorway.
Willow sat up. “Angelus.”
“You putting on a show just for me? I haven't seen anything that hot since,” he paused and tilted his head as if lost in thought. “Let's just say Angel didn't go for that kind of thing.” He sauntered to the bed and pulled the doll out of her hand. With a grimace he tossed it aside. “You won't be needing any dollies.”
He towered over her as he gently brushed a finger along her cheek, and then, grabbing her by the hair, he yanked her off the bed. “Of course, you did disobey me.”
“No, I just had to see you,” Willow cried. “All I want to do is please you.”
“Please me, is it? I think I can come up with something.” He forced a finger into her mouth, thinking of it as an invasion, as a plundering of her will, ignoring her eagerness in his need to dominate her. He pulled his finger out and gently brushed his fingertips along either side of her jaw before grabbing her face in one huge hand and squeezing. Stopping just shy of leaving bruises, he shoved her to the ground, calculating what damage he could do that would remain unnoticed by her friends. “Suck my dick.”
With trembling hands and face alight with anticipation, Willow unzipped his pants. She blinked at the pleasant surprise, no underwear, and then her tongue darted out of her mouth, tasting his tip. Wrapping her lips around his cock, she engulfed him in one swift motion, taking him as deeply as she thought she could. It wasn't enough for Angelus. Grabbing her head to hold it still, he shoved himself deeper until the tightness of her throat, squeezing around his cock, sent shivers of pleasure up his body. When she started choking, he thought of taking her that way, of strangling her with his dick until her death rattle, forcing her to spasm around him, released him and shot his seed down her dying throat, but no. The love spell, that spot of magic making her subservient to him, meant she was an invaluable tool, at least while Buffy was still alive. So he satisfied himself by pulling out of that intense tightness, just long enough for her to drag in an almost adequate gasp of air, before shoving himself back in, time and time again, the tightness of her throat, the raw way she flinched from the pain, and the desperation of her gasps increasing the tension until, with a shudder that sent come spewing down her throat, he came.
As he zipped his pants up, Willow, choking on the rawness of her throat, wiped come and saliva off her face. “Try to make yourself presentable,” he growled, “and then get home. You shouldn't have come here in the first place.”
With a sense of abandonment, Willow watched Angelus leave the room without even a backward glance. As she picked herself up, her eyes lit on the Spike doll lying on the floor where Angelus had so casually tossed it aside. With a quick glance to the door, certain Angelus wouldn't approve, she shoved the doll into her pocket before following Angelus into what she thought of as the living room. He was standing, staring into the fire, and didn't even turn although he must have heard her enter the room. “You,” she stuttered, “will you visit me tomorrow?”
A look of fury flashed across his face, but only smiles and gentleness showed when he turned to her. “How could I stay angry with you, my love?” he asked, holding out his arms in invitation. She ran to him, holding him tenderly, and he wrapped his arm around her in return, holding her tightly in a cage of flesh and bone that Willow, bespelled into love, didn't see as a trap.
“I'll walk you home,” he said after a few moments, long to him but seeming like mere seconds to her. She smiled up at him, trusting that he'd always do what was best for them, and took his hand. He carefully pulled it out of hers. “I'll follow in the shadows to make sure you get safely home.” At her frown, he added, “We can't be seen together, not yet. You know that.”
“Will you stay with me until morning?”
He was about to deny her, trusting the love spell to ensure her loyalty, but then he thought about spending the night wrapped around a warm human body, with a woman who wanted him so badly she'd willingly and even happily do anything he desired. “How could I not?”
Willow's hand brushed against the doll hidden in her skirt. “I left my pack in the bedroom,” she said, crossing her fingers against the lie and hoping Angelus wouldn't recognize the bag as Drusilla's.
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Gabrielle
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Great update!
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I guess he liked Willow before he was so harshly interrupted. I've hinted at why. I explain it more fully in part 5 and then completely in part 7.
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And don't worry too much about Spike. Things get much better for him in the next chapter.