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Spoilers: 1 year after Becoming.
Distribution: Yes please, but could you ask first. Thanks Carol.
Summary: Willow's meets her suitor
Feedback: Only if you want to. ;)
Disclaimer: I don't claim these characters as mine, I never have.
They
belong to Joss and the WB. Please don't sue. Killing me Softly is owned
by Roberta Flack.
Authors note: First fanfic ever posted. A HUGE thank you to my Beta
readers and Mentors, A.j. and Melinda Dawney. Many, many, many thanks.
To Trinity Day, who inspires. To Te Arawa and especially her Mum,
Ramona. And to my Mum, the original Monster slayer. Heaven is lucky.
I heard he sang a good song
I heard he had a style
And so I came to see him
To listen for a while
The Bronze was a precarious mistress to appease. Willow understood this
as she stepped tentatively inside its cocoon, expertly scanning the
room
for friend or foe.
The Bronze was a vessel in which both creatures existed uneasily.
Diverse and confusing emotions of the tormented existed here. It was
no
wonder its inhabitants façade of their mistress' veering moods.
Sometimes she was mischievous, its patrons like minded. Young and nimble
youth crashing about the dance floor, seeking first chaste, then
unchaste kisses. Sometimes she was cruel and dark, every face pale,
shrouded in the dark garments of mourning. It wasn't a safe place to
be
when that happened,and the Slayer came in handy.
Other times, she was wild and careless, and heavy metal blared from
5000
dollar speakers. And sometimes, ... introverted, a mix of soul and
blues
working to soothe deep wounds. Asking forgiveness and, just for this
night, given without question. Mostly it raised nocturnal children.
<Just like its owner,> She thought glumly, including him in her search.
This night, The Bronz thrummed loudly with the back-beat of some Disco
revival number. Drums and bass ricocheting off the glittering walls
encasing its shadowy occupants with a primal craving. The shadows hid
much. On one side, there were the wannabes, love-lorn, and the
curious
virginal few. On the other... every fantasy made flesh and blood.
Desire and hunger were never so tangible, as it was made to ensnare
her
to them.
With surgical precision, a skill attained from nights fighting vampires
with the Slayer and Slayerettes, she moved unharmed and unaffected
by it
all. Snaking her way purposefully through the crowd, she made her way
to
the Slayer's table to wait for Oz.
After a few minutes of absently contemplating random dancers, her mind
started to drift towards a more serious topic. Willow and Oz
had been
arguing heavily over the past several months. First, the fights
had
been over her obsession with bringing Angel back from Hell. After
she
had, quarrels hadn't lessened, only switched topics. Oz now resented
the time she spent with Angel, and expressed it every chance he got.
To be honest, she couldn't explain that need to be near him either.
It
was something she had felt, so deeply it couldn't be expressed with
words. She quickly shook of the reverie; she was here to meet Oz.
<OZ, the boy who still loves me and has been sending me the most
beautiful love notes ever. That Oz. > She flushed slightly, anticipation
making her nervous and excited at the same time.
Her hand, delicately straightened unseen creases from the full
length black velvet gown her admirer had sent her. Oz trying to say
'Sorry' had never been more romantic. For a whole week, pale gold roses
arrived at her door with prose so sweet as to make the very petals
blush
next to such reverence. And now this exquisite dress. It must have
cost
him a pretty penny.
She had doubts meeting him here. After all, it was the owner of this
establishment who was the source of their "troubles."
She had relented, deciding to put aside her own doubts and try again
with Oz. This whole business with Angel was confusing her. After donning
the dress, she'd piled her red hair high atop her head, letting nothing
but a soft tendrils of fire red drift to her shoulders. Around
her
neck, a black sequinned ribbon accentuated its creamy length.
She
looked, for all the world, like a vampire goddess. Willow was totally
unaware of the room pulsing around her, eager to touch this unrivalled
midnight deity.
And there he was this young boy
A stranger to my eyes
He emerged from one of the many concealed doorways. With the grace of
a
tiger, he moved toward her. She suddenly turned, her eyes meeting his
for the first time in weeks. She swooned. He evoked such yearning.
Rapture. His dark eyes never left her for a moment.
<Gosh, he was beautiful. How could I have denied my feelings for
so
long?!>
The Disco fever fell to a lull and the band retook the stage to finish
the 3rd set. He barely noticed, trying to gather his thoughts into
some
coherent order. The song, his song played for her.
I felt all flushed with fever
Embarrassed by the crowd
"Don't speak.... " He whispered, capturing her hand in his own before
she could protest. He led her out to the dance-floor, sweeping her
dramatically into a close embrace. Her lovely red hair, spilled from
the
hair pins that had held it back It tumbled down about her shoulders
and
over his arm in a silky cloud, releasing a tantalising vanilla
fragrance. Finally her hair came to rest upon her creamy white
shoulders. Neither seemed to notice; neither seemed to care. He finally
had her in his arms and he wasn't going to let her go now.
I felt he found my letters
And read each one out loud
I prayed that he would finish
But he just kept right on
"You are beautiful," he whispered, his voice betraying how she was
affecting him. "We need to talk, Willow. I've missed you terribly since
you left, well, since I left. That argument was terrible and I, I......"
Willow couldn't bare it anymore. She silenced him gently with a finger,
pressing it tenderly to his lips. An ember of heat ruptured between
them. Both reeling in the sudden sensual awareness it evoked. Willows
eyes clouded over, a rush of emotion kindled inside her.
<Oh God, I love him. I love him!> She reached up to brush his cheek
and
his stomach tightened. Slowly, she drew her fingers down his jaw,
rejoicing in such an intimate act. And then in an action that was
absolute predatory, her fingers dipped beneath his chin and slid down
his now slightly bared throat. The fact, he had exposed it to
her
volatile touch, was not lost on Willow. He trusted her, without
question. Smiling, she nestled closer. Curling her nimble fingers up
to
retrace the sensuous path back to his trembling lips again.
Her shamelessly erotic gesture, for a moment, managing to illicit a
low
hungry growl from his lips, that seemed to electrify the very air around
them. The breath was wrenched from his lungs and expelled in a whoosh.
<Red haired, Devil woman.....>
"Willooow...." He breathed, snuggled into the nape of her long gracious
neck, trying to find the words. His free hand buried itself in her
hair,
while the other pulled her closer yet to him. When he next spoke, desire
punctuated every word.
"What have you done to me?!" He moaned softly. " I tried to forget about
you. I couldn't. I tried to be angry. I couldn't. I tried to be with
another woman. I didn't. You are inside of me, here, in me. And what
am
I to do but apologize...??
He sang as if he knew me
In all my dark despair
And then he looked right through me
As if I wasn't there
It was true. They had both known the pain of loss, of falling in love
with impossible loves, of being hurt, alone and guilt ridden. Knowing
distance as a form of defense. Of sharpening instincts. Trust didn't
come easily to either of them. They both knew this and both were hurt
by
it. Despite this, they had grown closer than she had ever imagined.
It
terrified her intensely.
Suddenly, his lips brushed hers.
<Oh, God... Angel!!!> Her mind raced, clearing itself of the music
and
the sudden temperature in her temples. <Oh my.... oh dear......
Oh
my!!!>
She was frantic as he came closer, her eyes searched the room, hoping
that Oz was not going to see them together. Then something caught her
eye. Angel held out to her, his hand. And captured within it he held
a
pale gold rose.
One of the many pale gold roses that now filled her room, flowing out
into the hall way of the Rosenburg household.
<Angel. Not Oz. Angel....>
Her world slowed. Ceased. Her heart spoke and it whispered his name.
A
wild fevered mantra that existed for no other but for him alone.
Tonight, and every night after, she would give this gift to him.
There was no time for second thoughts or regrets, as his lips found
hers. This was right to her; it felt right. Nothing else did, but this
she knew, had understood from the beginning. Hadn’t she
always known?
Softly, almost hesitantly, they kissed again. The passion they had
checked every day they had spent together, bubbled just beneath the
surface, and so too the surrender promised in the willingness of her
lips beneath his.
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
He pulled away slightly, breathless and overwhelmed. Her gaze met his
steadily, but Angel waited for a minute. He wanted her to be sure,
wanted this to be the right decision for both of them. Assurance
sought
and received in tandem. Smiling, Willow reached for him, pulling
him to
her in a long, tender kiss. No longer afraid of the truth.
Lips so delicately bruised, parted.
Angel and Willow, two souls, two bodies spin, helpless to do anything
but revel in the warmth and closeness of the other. Trapped, willingly,
in each others embrace they spun and whirled together - dissolving
into
perfect darkness. Complete, at last.
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Somewhere among the shadows, beneath the veil of many orbiting lights,
she stands alone. Solitary and exalted by God. Her fists clench over
and
over, unconsciously, by her side. Ripples of anger sweep beneath her
skin as she watches them disappear from the dance-floor, wrapped in
each
others arms.
Her mouth curls into a cruel smile, depleting the room of her natural
beauty. If tonight was any indication, she had a lot of slaying to
do. A
lot to make up for. Her eyes remained on the shadow they had vanished
into, as if she still saw them there.
<Such sweet treachery...>
She conjured up their images in her mind. Willow and Angel. Angel and
Willow. Betrayed. Her blood ran cold. The past had closed between them.
Everything erased. Forgotten. Death was open for business. New business.
And the future was a moving target. A dancing, spiralling target....
<Oh. You ain't seen nothin' yet!!!.....>
Killing..... me..... softly....
THE END.