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The Sad Still Music of Humanity Series - Battling Demons -- by Ruby
Rating: PG-13
Description: Angel gets points for persistence, sequel to Extremes Meet.
Disclaimer: Joss owns all.
Thick tendrils of smoke curled through the air in the pub. Several pairs of bloodshot eyes turned as Spike stepped inside and pulled Willow in behind him.
"What are we doing here?" she asked as she glanced around the room and moved closer to him.
"Dinner, pet," he answered.
"Here? Doesn't the management frown on that sort of thing?"
He slipped his arm around her waist, "He's one of us."
"Oh," her eyebrows arched in surprise. "Very enterprising."
"Easy meals," he shrugged. "Most of the regulars here are on the dole, or one step away, and not too bright."
Spike was spared the barrage of questions forming in Willow's mind by a tall, dark-haired man who approached from the bar. His eyes traveled over Willow's body suggestively.
"Buy you a drink, love," he leered.
Spike squeezed Willow's waist as she smiled up at the young man. His breath reeked of alcohol, and he swayed slightly on his feet.
"Why not," she agreed.
The man ordered two pints and joined Willow at a booth in a dark corner. Spike sat down at a table in the middle of the room and watched with interest as the man placed the heavy mugs on the scarred, wooden table and slid onto the bench beside Willow. His hand drifted to her knee, and she snaked an arm around his neck.
"Haven't seen you here before," he spoke into her ear. "I'd remember you."
Willow smiled and turned her head away as the stranger brought his lips to hers. Her mouth dropped to his neck, and she turned him to shield her game face from the other patrons. The man struggled silently as her fangs sunk into his jugular, but she grabbed a handful of his thick hair and held him fast. She drained him hungrily and leaned his body back against the seat.
Spike rose as Willow moved away from the corpse and walked to her sire's table. He pulled her against him and kissed the traces of blood from her lips.
"I love watching you work," he smiled.
She took his hand, and they turned to leave the pub. It would be dawn before anyone realized the man in the corner booth wasn't sleeping off a drunken stupor.
"Oh, hell," Spike growled as the pub door closed behind them. "What are you doing? Following us?"
"Yes," Angel answered curtly. "Well, her, actually. I wouldn't follow you if I were your shadow."
Willow rolled her eyes, "Come on, you two. I'm not ready for round two yet."
Spike threaded his fingers through hers, "Neither am I, pet. There's a lovely view of the sunrise over Parliament in a few hours. Why don't we leave you to it, mate?"
"Willow," Angel said. "I don't want a fight, either. I just want to talk to you."
"You're not getting this, are you?" Spike snarled.
Willow squeezed his hand, "Spike, stop. Angel, not tonight."
"Tomorrow night," he replied.
She nodded slowly, "I'll meet you outside the museum."
"All right. Midnight at the museum," Angel agreed.
"I'm going with you," Spike said as he watched Angel's retreating figure.
"No. Spike, I have to do this. He isn't going to stop until I do. He won't hurt me."
"That isn't what concerns me," he said.
"And he won't turn me against you. Let me talk to him, alone," she asked.
"I'll give him two hours, and then I'm coming after you," he told her.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"What's the worst thing that could happen?" Angel asked as they walked towards Regent's Park.
"I could lose myself. I could lose Spike," she answered.
"He won't leave you. You're his childe. You feed from him, don't you? Regularly?"
"Yes," she nodded. "That's not too unusual, is it?"
"It is after this length of time. He knows what he's doing," Angel admitted.
She looked up at him in confusion.
"You shouldn't do that, Willow. It feeds the demon and drowns your humanity. He knows that," he explained.
She shrugged, "He wants me to be strong."
"He wants you to be what he is."
"I like what he is," she told him.
"Yes, but it isn't you, Willow. You have another part he doesn't, remember?" he replied.
"You won't let me forget it!" she answered. "Angel, I care about you, a lot, but I don't want to be what you are! You're in constant pain."
"That isn't true. I feel pain. I feel other people's pain, but I feel other things, too. I can tell you firsthand, it's better than the blinding darkness of evil."
"I'm not like Angelus. Neither is Spike. Look how he is with me," she pointed out.
"With you, period. That's a rather limited understanding of compassion," he forced a sigh from his lungs. "I don't know. Maybe you have to experience a couple centuries of other people's agony before you begin to empathize with them. No one wants to die that way."
"We have to feed," she argued.
"There are alternatives," he told her.
"Rats? Plastic bags? No, thanks," she scoffed. "I prefer my meals warm, fresh, and flowing."
"And you never feel anything for the victims you leave behind, their families, friends?" he questioned.
"I don't think about it," she shrugged. "It's a matter of survival."
"And part of you enjoys it," he added.
"Yes," she admitted.
"And the other part? You won't think about the lives you destroy because your human remnant couldn't bear it."
"So why subject myself to that?" she said.
"Because you can find other ways! Willow, you have more warmth, more capacity to love in that small remnant than most mortals have in their entire beings! You brought that with you when Spike made you," he said earnestly.
"It has no place in my unlife," she stated.
"Yes, it does. It has a place with me. You know how much I care about you. You have to know what I feel for you," he spoke.
She turned to face him, "I don't know what to say to that."
"Don't say anything," he answered.
Angel stepped into her and drew her close. He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers. Her body tensed against his as he took her mouth, teasing her lips with his tongue. Willow's lips parted and he drew her tongue into his mouth. Suddenly, she pushed away from him and moved out of his embrace. He caught her wrist as she tried to turn from him.
"Willow," he groaned. "Don't be angry."
She expelled an unneeded breath and looked into his eyes, "I'm not angry. I'm--I don't know what I am. I need to think. Let me go, please."
Reluctantly, he released her and forced himself to remain where he stood as she quickly walked away.
The End
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