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Title: Possession
Author: Flurblewig
Pairing: Buffy/Angelus
Rating: To be on the safe side, NC17 - for sexual acts (consensual)
Timeline/Spoilers: Set in S2, after 'I Only Have Eyes For You'
Length: 2,921 words
Written for: challengetime, who wanted any variation on the pairing, with smut and sticky stuff, and no deaths or bashing
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I just like to take them out and play with them sometimes.
Feedback: Yes please! All welcome in comments or to flurblewig {at} btopenworld.com

Xander paced restlessly around the room. "I don't like this, Will," he said. "I don't like this at all."

"I know. You've said. A dozen times, at least. I get it, Xander. I'm with the whole 'Xander's not happy'-ness of the plan. But it's a bit late, isn't it? We're doing it - I'm doing it - so you might as well just let me get on with it, huh?"

Finally - thankfully - he sat down, throwing himself heavily onto her bed. "Okay. Okay. But -"

"Xander. I have dangerous things here. If you say you don't like this one more time I may be forced to use them. On you."

He sighed loudly and scooted forward on his stomach, letting his head hang over the edge of the bed.

"Don't get too close," Willow said, holding up a hand in warning.

"Oh, right. Mustn't break the magic circle, huh?"

"Well, yeah, but I was thinking more that you'll get a cloud of incense smoke in your face. This recipe is supposed to be effective but it doesn't really smell very good."

She sprinkled more of the powdered mix to the glowing charcoal, and held her nose as the smoke billowed around her. Working with the dark arts was kind of scary and exciting at the same time, but she just wished it didn't always have to smell so ooky.

"I just don't like the idea of Buffy out there on her own. With him."

Him. Funny how they always seemed to refer to him like that, these days. Just - him. Almost as if they were afraid that the mere mention of his name might bring him physically to the door. Well, she was, anyway. Or had been. Now, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her candles and her incense burning, she felt better. More daring. Almost - powerful.

"You mean Angelus," she said.

Xander flinched, ever so slightly, and his eyes skittered to the window. Nope, not just her, then.

"Yeah. Him."

"Buffy will be fine. She's prepared. And anyway, I don't think he wants to kill her."

"No, and do you know why? Because he wants to kill all of us first. He wants to drive her mad by letting her discover our grisly, dismembered corpses."

She winced slightly, and threw on another pinch of incense. "Xander. Not a helpful image."

"No, I guess not. Sorry, Will. Didn't mean to mess up your mojo."

"It's okay. This is just maintenance. The really hard work was done earlier, when I charged up the cerate."

"The what? Oh, you mean the magic gunk."

"Yeah. That."

Xander shifted backwards on the bed, his hand moving to cover his nose. "And that didn't smell so hot either, did it? Will, are you sure she's gonna be able to get close enough to him for it to actually work? He'll probably run a mile as soon as he smells her coming. I know I would."

Willow wiped her eyes, which were smarting from all the smoke. "Honestly? I don't know. I don't know if it will work even if she does get close enough to get it on him. I don't really know what I'm doing, here. I'm trying my best, but so much of this is way over my head."

Xander sat up straight again. "What about Giles? I mean, he knows about this sort of stuff. He could've helped, maybe. Why isn't Giles here?"

Willow shook her head. "I couldn't ask him. He's not - he's still grieving, Xander. It wouldn't be right."

"If you ask me, brewing up a storm to kick the shit out of - him - would be just what Giles needs. Killing the thing that murdered Miss Calendar sounds like great therapy to me."

Willow shifted on the floor.

"What? What's the matter, Will?"

"Nothing, nothing. I'm just a bit uncomfortable, that's all. Getting crampy down here."

Xander leaned forward. "Look at me, Will."

"I can't. The spell, Xander. I have to focus."

Xander got off the bed and moved around to the front of Willow. He hunched down until he was level with her face, but still her eyes stayed on the candle flame in front of her."

"Willow. Will."

"Stop it. You're putting me off."

"Yeah, well, that's the thing, isn't it? Putting you off what, Will? What exactly does this spell do, again? Does it kill him? Because suddenly it occurs to me that I don't recall you actually saying that's what it does."

"I told you."

"No. Actually, you know, you didn't. Willow, you can't lie for shit, you know that. Especially to me. Now look at me."

Reluctantly, she obeyed. His eyes bored into hers. Rumbled.

"Willow," he said softly, "what have you done?"

***

Buffy walked slowly through the graveyard, her right hand holding a stake, her left tucked into the pocket of her coat. The fingers of that hand played restlessly over the lip of the jar Willow had given her. She resisted the urge to dip inside it; the stuff was still in there, she'd checked enough times. And she didn't want to get it on her skin. Not yet. Didn't want to activate the spell too early.

She stopped and listened, ears straining for the slightest sound that might indicate she wasn't alone here.

None came.

She breathed out. Maybe he wouldn't come. Maybe he didn't get the message - the vamp she'd sent with it had been pretty pissed off about being used as a messenger boy. Or maybe he got it and he just didn't care. He had Drusilla now, he had Spike; maybe he didn't have any interest in her any more. Maybe he'd already skipped town. Maybe he was dead.

So many maybes. She decided she really didn't like that word.

She suddenly wished she had a flower to pull the petals from. He'll come for me, he'll come for me not.

Which was the worst-case scenario? She didn't know. She wasn't sure she knew anything any more.

"Well now, Buffy. I guess knowing that you're a dead girl walking has to have an impact, but fuck. Neglecting the old personal hygiene a bit, aren't we? Frankly, Slayer, you reek."

She whirled round. So; he came. Game on, then. "All the better to clog up those sensitive vampire nostrils with."

He laughed. "And that's your master plan, is it? Stink me to death?"

Her hand moved inside her coat pocket, curling her fingers inside the jar and around a handful of Willow's gloop. It felt sticky and warm against her skin. She moved her arm slowly, lifting her hand out of her pocket and letting it rest by her side.

Angelus watched her, the smile still on his lips but his eyes wary. "What do you want, Buffy?"

"You, gone."

"That's all, huh?"

"Yeah. I'm easily pleased."

Another laugh. "Noticed that. But then taste and refinement never were your strong points, were they?"

She circled him, raising the stake. "Oh, my taste has improved a lot lately."

He moved toward her, not away. "That so?" The grin never left his face. "Oh, I get it. You finally decided you want another go round, is that it? With a real man, this time."

She stood her ground. Let him come. She needed him close. Touching close.

And then he was there, right in her face. Knocking the stake from her hand with one easy swipe. She let both arms drop by her sides and stared up at him. His face became still, the mocking grin gone.

She blinked back unexpected tears, reaching up with her right hand to touch his shirt. The silk slid smoothly under her fingers as she moved her hand up his arm, then across to his chest. His lips parted slightly.

His own hand moved then, taking her wrist in his. His thumb moved slowly, rubbing in small circles over her skin. A small sound escaped her, a soft whispering moan that sounded, even to her own ears, like yes.

Then he moved again, and her wrist was in his mouth. She had time for one sharp inhalation before his teeth were buried in her flesh, and her blood was running down his mouth. She jerked backwards, pulling her arm away from him with a flare of pain, and bunching her fingers in the front of his shirt as she pulled. The thin material ripped easily, and she brought up her other hand to slam against his chest. He grunted slightly and stepped back, looking down at himself and then raising a hand to wipe at the mess on his skin.

"What the fuck?" he said.

***

"Shit, Will, what is wrong with you?"

"I couldn't - she was so - I had to do something, Xander." She was crying now, and an increasingly clamorous part of her mind was nagging her to stop. It couldn't be good for the spell. She snuffled, and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jumper.

"Do something? Yes, good idea. How about something like cast a spell to paralyse that bastard while Buffy stakes him? I thought that was a pretty damn good something, Will. I thought that was what we were doing here."

"Xander, -"

"Fuck, no wonder you didn't want Giles here. He wouldn't have let this happen. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I just - I just wanted to help, I -"

"And this is your idea of helping? Making Buffy think you can get Angel back? With a lame-ass spell that you don't even know will work? You said yourself, Will, you don't know what you're doing."

"Okay, yeah, I don't know that it will work. But I don't know that it won't work, either. Maybe - maybe -"

"Oh sure, maybe. Maybe you're Glinda the good fucking witch, and you'll wave your magic wand and Angel comes back all sorry and pretty and everyone cries with joy and lives happily ever after, huh? Except that Jenny Calendar is still dead. Unless you can fix that too, Miss All-Powerful Magic?"

Willow shook her head. "No. No. Xander - don't look at me like that. I didn't - I didn't think - "

"No, you didn't." He ran a hand through his hair, then squatted back down in front of her. "Tell me, Will. Tell me everything."

"It's a - a kind of possession spell. I got the idea after what happened at school. With - with Grace and James."

"The ghosts? I don't get it."

"Well, they were able to - to put themselves in other people's bodies. So I thought - I thought that maybe I could find a way for Angel to - to "

"To possess Angelus? To take over his own body?"

"Well - yeah. Kind of. I guess - now you say it like that, it does seem - I don't know - "

"Stupid? Incredibly dangerous?"

She sighed, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Yeah."

"So how does it work?"

"Huh?"

"The spell. The gunk. You said that was the hard part. So how does it work?"

"I - I - " She shook her head. "Oh god - I can't, Xander. I can't tell you."

"What do you mean? Willow, why not?"

"You - you won't understand."

"I'm trying to understand, Will. I'm trying to be reasonable. See my reasonable face, here? But I can't understand if you don't tell me."

"Well, we were - we were trying to recreate the circumstances. You know, like Grace and James did with the whole gun thing? They acted out the scene, the last scene that they had. So we thought that maybe we could do the same. Recreate the - the last scene that Angel had."

"And what's - oh. Oh, no. Willow, don't tell me that -"

She nodded. "Yeah," she whispered.

Xander scrambled back up to his feet. "You're saying she's gone to have sex with him? She's gone to have fucking sex with Angelus? Christ, Will."

He began to pace. "Okay, okay, let's think. We have to stop this. Where did she go? You know, right? I'll go and get Giles, he's got weapons, and we'll go after her. There's still time. There is still time, right?"

Willow nodded. "Nothing's happened, not yet. I'd know if the spell had been activated."

"Okay, that's good. So what do we -"

He paused as the candle in front of Willow suddenly flared, the flame burning a bright, steady blue.

"Willow? What does that mean?"

She looked up at him, wide-eyed. "You know I just said that the spell hadn't been activated?"

Xander stared at her. "Oh, shit."

***

"I said, what the fuck is this stuff, bitch?"

Buffy kept moving, kept circling. "Well, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

"Funny girl."

"I try."

He feinted towards her, and she used his momentum to flip him over onto his back. He landed hard, and she dropped onto his stomach, straddling him. She ripped his torn shirt fully open, smearing the remains of Willow's gloop over his torso. He bucked, trying to dislodge her, but she leant over and pinned his arms to the ground. Then she kissed him.

By the time she had to stop in order to breathe, he wasn't struggling any more. "Well," he said, "Looks like I had it right after all. You did come back for seconds. Is that it, Slayer? You want me to show you how it should have been done?"

Buffy nodded, not trusting her voice.

"How's that? Didn't quite hear you, there."

She swallowed hard. "Yes," she said.

"Nope, still not getting it."

"Yes." She screamed it into his face, this time. "Yes, yes, yes. Okay? Yes."

And then she was flying, thrown off his body and landing hard on her back. His mouth was on hers, the kiss bruising and vicious. She responded, her tongue battling his, and her hands moved to his shoulders, his neck. Pulling him closer.

She had to make this look real. Had to sell it. It was just an act, just a means to an end, but she had to make him believe. Had to pretend she wanted this. Wanted him.

He growled, low in his throat, and ripped her shirt away. His tongue slid down her neck to her breasts, his teeth grazing at her nipples. She cried out and arched her back, the raw, hot ache building between her legs.

Good act, she told herself. If you ever get done with Slaying there's an Oscar-winning career in the movies just waiting for you.

Her pants quickly went the same way as her shirt, as Angel - no, Angelus; she couldn't afford to forget that, no matter how sweetly familiar his hands felt as they skated over her body - stripped her with deft, efficient moves.

How many times has he - no. Don't think about that. Just think about the job you've got to do.

He leaned back , his knees outside hers, pinning her legs in place, and pushed down his jeans. He took his cock in his hand, stroking it slowly with his eyes locked on hers.

"This is what you want, is it, Buffy? Huh?"

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"It's what I want. Your - your cock. I want you to fuck me."

He smiled. "Anything for you, sweetheart."

He leaned forward again, capturing a nipple in his mouth while his cock edged slowly - so agonisingly slowly - inside her. She pulled at his hips, but he was immobile.

"Say please," he said.

Tears began to prick at her eyes. It wasn't enough, was it? She would never be enough.

"Please," she said.

"Say 'fuck me, please.'"

She wriggled her hips, trying to thrust upwards, but he held her down.

"You bastard," she said.

"Sorry, wrong answer."

And part of her wanted to get up right then, throw him off her and end this whole painful, disgusting business. But a bigger part looked into his eyes and still thought it could see Angel. And wanted him, whether it could or not.

"Fuck me, please," she said.

He moved in another inch, and she almost screamed.

"Say 'fuck me, please Angelus."

Oh, but lines had to be drawn somewhere. Didn't they?

"No," she said.

He looked at her for a long moment, then shrugged. "Oh well. Never mind."

Then he thrust inside her, deep and hard and fast. And this time she did scream.

***

Willow chanted over the candle, her voice low and rhythmic. She reached across and sprinkled a pinch of white powder into the flame, which flared again and then went out.

"Will? What happened? Did she - did it work?"

Willow closed her eyes. Her throat felt raw and painful.

"No," she said.

***

Buffy flinched as her clothes were thrown in her face.

"Well, that was an unexpected pleasure," he said, zipping up his jeans. He patted the pockets, then shrugged. "What a shame, I seem to be all out of cash,. I'll catch you next time, okay? Although - huh, what am I thinking? I don't need to pay you - I own you."

She sat up, pulling her ruined shirt around her, the pain in her body a fiery counterpoint to the dull ache of knowledge. This isn't Angel. We failed. I failed. He isn't coming back.

"There won't be any next time," she said.

He laughed. "Sure, honey. You tell yourself that."

- End -