Work Header


Work Text:

I'm so dumb . Willow thinks. She invited Angel inside her house. When she did that, she sealed her fate. It is too late now to realize that as soon as she knew Angel had gone soulless, she should have done something about the invitation. But the thought hadn't even occurred to her. Oh no, Buffy doesn't know either . Willow thinks suddenly. It's detached, however, without the same weight her recriminations towards herself have.

In her defense, it can be a bit hard to think clearly or selflessly when you are dying. Especially when the process involves a great deal of pain. Angelus entered her room as she was getting ready for bed. Her parents weren't home, and she had already finished her nightly phone call with Xander. She only just hung up after talking to Buffy when he came from behind her, she didn't see him until he already had her in his grasp. Soon, she was naked on the bed with him looming over her.

Then, the rape. It is at once like her worst nightmare and not as bad as she would have thought it would be. Not that she ever thought about being raped. She thought about sex, as any normal teenager has a tendency to, but it was always very consensual, loving and pleasurable. What Angelus is doing to her is not any of those things. It is violent, hateful and painful. But she isn't quite in it. After he threatens to torture and kill anyone that her attempts to scream might bring to the house, making her watch it all, she starts to slip away.

He is so strong. Willow knows vampires are strong, but she doesn't remember ever feeling quite how much until this moment. Of course, some vampires are stronger than others. Older vampires, masters, vampires from stronger lines, childer, she wonders if the individual that a vampire was in life can influence the strength they will have as undead. Willow wonders if Angelus was in anyway as strong when he was human. She thinks about what he was like. Somehow, she thinks he probably wasn't anything like Angel.

The strength of his trusts against her body rattle the bed ominously. It rips her apart, and the pain is sharp and intense. She feels it in her pelvis every time, one solid blow after another. She wonders if he might break it. Maybe he already has, she doesn't really have a way to know. She guesses that she would have passed out, however, since she knows broken bones are extremely painful, some more than others. Her arm is definitely broken, though. He gripped her wrists in his hands until they snapped, one after the other. Then, when she still tried to squirm, he snapped her right arm like a twig. Crack , and she could feel and see the sickening bulge of the bone sticking out under the skin.

Now, she doesn't really feel much of anything. There is the pain, the fear, the weird, crushing loneliness. But it's all distant. Not like a dream, not like it's happening to someone else, a bit like she felt from the anesthesia she took when she had her appendix taken out as a child. Not quite like that, though. Maybe like being underwater, and looking towards the sky. If the water is clear, she can see the blue and maybe the white of the clouds. The sun. But it's bend-y and indistinct. She can vaguely hear loud sounds, but can't understand them. She feels the water around her, but if it's a temperature close to her body's, it's almost like floating in nothingness.

She barely feels it when he bites her. The crack of her fingers being broken one by one is very distant. She wonders what they look like, all bent out of shape. He snaps her left arm, and Willow can almost appreciate the symmetry. He has a dagger that she only notices when it's used to make cuts on her chest. She thinks he might be writing or drawing something, she wonders vaguely what it is, but it doesn't really matter. He seems really focused for a while, and when he finishes he smiles and it's almost like he is Angel again. He then moves her and fucks mouth until he comes all over her face, and the restricted breathing brings her dangerously close to being aware again, which she doesn't like. By the time he finishes, there are also spots on her vision, but they clear away when she manages to breath again. Her throat is raw, but it doesn't really register.

Angelus then stops and looks at her for a long moment. He runs his hand down her right leg, grasps her foot. It looks small and almost pretty in his big hand. He holds it and breaks its fingers with slow, careful movements, enjoying the moment. He does the same thing to the other. Then, he breaks her ankles, and the pain jars her. She mews, and he smirks at her. He takes out his dagger again, and writes on her legs. Then, he breaks them both. It's harder, and he has to stand up to get better leverage to do it. Willow passes out, but she thinks it isn't for long since he is still there when she comes to.

Except, he isn't in the bed anymore, but sitting on a chair nearby, drawing. He looks very concentrated, but notices she is awake and smiles at her. He stays like that for a while, Willow isn't sure how long. Then, he puts the paper aside, goes to the bed and turns her around. He grips her unmarred behind, pulling the cheeks apart. It hurts more when he rapes her there than it did the first time, but she doesn't care. All he gets from her are a few moans, but they hardly mean anything. What bothers her the most is that he is heavy on her back, and almost suffocates her against the mattress. After he finishes, he cuts her back too. The feeling of the lines he draws on her is almost shooting.

He turns her back around, and stands there, looking, for a long time. He is tender when he caresses her face with his thumbs. Her jaw, her lips, her nose, her eyelids. He pops her eyes out, and she sinks into unconsciousness.

She never rises again.