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Through the Window -- by Luisa
Rating: PG
Description: Angelus has a new obsession, Willow.
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. Joss Whedon owns it all.
I
Night fell on Sunnydale before the day had even begun. Most people in the small town hurried home after a day's work. The few who lingered on in the darkness lived only long enough to regret it.
A shadow moved under the neon lights. Quick and elusive, it flashed across walls and windows like lightning. It was barely there before it was gone.
But Sunnydale's finest knew who the shadow belonged to. Every undead in the area steered clear of its path and asked no questions.
Angelus was impatient. He had waited all day for this and now the night was his. Dressed in black leather from head to foot, he towered over all the other vampires. He ruled the clan without making much of an effort.
But tonight his thoughts were not on the other members of his species. He had better things to think about. Someone had taken over his heart (or what was left of it) and mind. She didn't know it yet, but soon she would find out and then her life would change... forever.
Angelus looked forward to that day, but at present he relished watching her from a distance, hearing her voice, following her home...stalking her. Seeing to it that no harm would ever come to her. He frowned at the thought that she was constantly in danger...in the sunlight and under the stars. Not from the vampire population, though. As far as they were concerned, she was off-limits. He had been very clear on that score. One false move...and "goodbye, dear unlife.".
He had been walking this way for weeks now. He knew every twist and turn of the shadowy streets and every leafless tree that bordered the pavement. He knew where he could easily get a meal and where it was better not to go. Not that there were many places into which he didn't venture.
He was afraid of nothing. A quarter of a millennium had afforded him every experience known to mankind as well as the ones known only to immortals. This had made him immune to most emotions. Except this particular one, it seemed.
But then again...he didn't want to be immune to it. He wanted to feel this way. Every minute, every hour, everyday.
Angelus finally reached his destination and stopped. He stood very still for a few seconds on one side of the empty street. Listening to the silence. His eyes skimmed the small surface of the white house on the opposite side. All was quiet.
He then crossed the road and easily opened the gate to the garden.
<Careless humans....> he thought.
He hoisted himself up to one of the lower branches of the pear-tree and proceeded to climb until he reached the level of a certain dimly lit balcony, where he suddenly jumped, landing noiselessly on its cold stone.
<Willow...IŽm here.>
II
Through the glass, he could see part of her room. A cozy, feminine resting place. Her bed stood in one of the corners and lying on its coverlet were Willow's childhood toys. They seemed to know he was there...their glassy eyes stared bleakly at him.
Willow's desk was also visible from where he was standing. It was littered with all sorts of papers, books and a rather conspicuous computer.
There had been no sign of Willow at first and Angelus immediately felt like breaking and entering.
<Stay still... SheŽll come.> Reason was the only thing holding him back. And finally he had seen her enter the room. His eyes lit up in excitement, his whole body tensed with the knowledge that he would have her all to himself tonight. See her.... breathing, moving, talking on the phone, day-dreaming, writing in her diary, checking her email. Undressing...
At the moment she was sitting on the edge of her bed, gazing at a photo of her parents on the bedside table.
Her small face looked pale and tired. Masses of red hair fell heavily from both sides of her head, making it difficult for Angelus to read her expression. Suddenly she got up and stretched her arms.
This made him smile. She looked like a little kitten who had just woken up from a long nap. He felt like going inside and rubbing her shoulders.
She then disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes and when she returned, Angelus had to grip the railings of the balcony to keep himself from falling over.
She had discarded her shoes and her blue sweater, leaving nothing on except her jeans and a white bra. Her white shoulders gleamed under the yellow light.
Angelus gazed at her for a few minutes and then looked away to regain his composure. He had seen her naked more than once. She struck him as something ethereal in her slenderness and fragility. Most of the times her hair covered half of her small back or, when she let it hang at the front, it covered her breasts.
Angelus had never seen anything lovelier. He was almost glad he was not inside the room for he would not have been able to control himself in front of her. He would have smothered her with kisses.... he would have made her his forever.
Right now he felt like bursting in, picking her up and putting her into bed, lying down beside her under the soft covers. But he did nothing. He contented himself with watching her slowly brush her hair in front of the mirror while singing some upbeat radio tune and smiling at her reflection. She was a young and innocent nymph. And he, Angelus, the master of all vampires, the ruler of Sunnydale's underworld, was in love with her. She brought him happiness and peace of mind everytime she smiled. And tore his heart out every time she cried.
Everything about her was generous and good. He had seen her comfort the Slayer in one of the girl's innumerable depressive moods and he had seen her laugh at Xander's lame jokes. He had been stung by jealousy then, imagining how wonderful it would be to hear her laugh at something he said...
But tonight she was alone and his eyes could follow the smallest movement she made without any distractions.
After brushing her hair, she finished undressing. For some strange reason, Angelus didn't look at her then. He averted his eyes and looked at the shimmering stars in the immense Sunnydale sky. A few minutes later he saw she had put on her nightgown and he sighed. Whether in relief or disappointment, he could not explain. She looked so young...
< Just like a little girl... My little girl> Angelus was strangely moved by the sight of her getting ready for bed.
Suddenly he had a thought. Taking out a notebook and a pencil from the confines of his pockets, he began to sketch the young woman. Normally it wouldn't have been an easy task for Willow was a restless soul. He had often tried to draw her.
Tonight he was lucky.
III
She slipped under the bed covers with a sigh of contentment and started reading a book, propped up against a fluffy white pillow. Her beautiful face was concentrated on the task at hand and not once did she look up.
<Good...perfect>
Angelus's right hand gathered speed as the hours went by. And when she finally decided to switch off the light and go to sleep, he was done. He wasn't happy with his drawing. He hadnŽ' been able to capture the real Willow on the white piece of paper. She was much too elusive for that.
Sighing in frustration, he peered into the darkness and managed to see the girl sleeping peacefully, red hair tossed all over the pillow, one arm hanging over the edge of the mattress. He frowned. Slowly and carefully, he reached his hand to the glazed window and slid it aside, entering the room. It was warm inside and Willow's face was slightly flushed. Angelus stood next to her bed, afraid to move in case she should wake up. But she didn't.
In an exquisitely gentle gesture, he took her arm in a light grasp and put it back on the mattress, underneath the covers. He then heard Willow breathe in deeply and let out the air in a soft sigh. He smiled tenderly and sat down on a silky rug, watching her sleep until the small hours. The birds started singing in the garden.
Checking his watch for the time (a habit he had never quite broken), he wondered whether he should leave his drawing on her desk as a gift but decided against it. He would make a better sketch. He would make hundreds.
It was time to go...and he wanted to stay. He wanted to be the first thing she'd see on waking up. But that was impossible...for the time being.
<See you tonight, my love. Sweet dreams>
Giving her one last look, he carefully closed the window behind him and disappeared into the darkness.
The End
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