A/N: Many thanx to my lovely and talented beta, Eowyn315!! :)



Willow was, unfortunately, more than halfway to Angel’s apartment when her nerve began to fail her. She considered turning back, abandoning her simple plan to reassure herself, and returning to the safety of her room; but she told herself that it would be foolish and pointless to turn back now, when she was nearly there.

*But then -- going on? Also seeming foolish and pointless at the moment, so…*

She swallowed back her fear and continued toward the tiny apartment where Angel lived, reassuring herself that once she got there and actually talked to the newly re-ensouled vampire, she could lay her irrational fears to rest.

However, as she neared the apartment, she stopped short at the sight of a shadowy figure, slinking down the sidewalk away from Angel’s door, glancing around as though he feared being observed. He was carrying a small, dark valise, and walking quickly, apparently in a hurry to get away from the apartment before someone noticed that he had been there at all.

The shadowy figure was suspiciously Angel-shaped.

Willow hesitated for a moment, considering, before making her decision and starting down the sidewalk, a good distance behind the dark vampire. Her curiosity was quickly overtaking her fear, as she determined to find out where he was going, and why. Perhaps it was completely innocent, in which case, her suspicions could still be laid to rest, and they could all feel better.

Or perhaps, Angel *was* doing something sinister, something that someone should know about, and she would have a more valid reason for her distrust toward the vampire, something solid to take to Buffy and back up the uncomfortable sensation in the pit of her stomach, that sixth sense that was still screaming at her that Spike was right: Angel’s newly restored soul meant nothing, and he was still a danger to them all.

*Not that I don’t have a valid reason already,* she reminded herself with resentment, as she made her way down the sidewalk, being careful to keep a good distance between herself and Angel. *Buffy just doesn’t seem to think that almost-rape is such a big deal -- not when it’s her boyfriend that did it!*

Once again, she found herself rethinking her plan, as Angel’s path led her toward a scary part of town, an area that was deserted and dark, and made her feel as if something was about to jump out at her from every corner. Her eyes widened with recognition, as Angel turned the corner onto Crawford Street, and she realized that he was heading toward the old mansion where he and Drusilla had stayed during his brief soulless period.

*What about Drusilla?* she wondered, for the first time since the tumultuous events of the evening had begun. *Is she still alive? And if she is, why does Angel want anything to do with her, now that he’s got his soul back? Does that mean he’s still evil?*

Angel stopped outside the mansion, glancing around once more to see if he had been followed, and Willow barely managed to duck back into the shadows of a nearby abandoned house before he saw her.

He hadn’t seen her -- had he?

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and imagined that he could clearly hear it. Weren’t vampires supposed to have enhanced senses? Willow’s eyes widened further in a trapped, terrified expression as the question occurred to her -- could he *smell* her? Did he already know she was here? What if he *was* planning to do something bad, something he would want to hide from his Slayer girlfriend, and now he knew she’d seen him?

When Angel turned away and walked into the mansion, Willow sagged backward against the wall of the old house behind her, as she tried to catch the breath she had been desperately holding. She waited a moment, trying to decide what she should do next.

Should she go back and tell Buffy what she had seen?

No…Buffy was too busy interrogating the other scary vampire, too busy searching for any scrap of information she could find that would make it okay for her to be with Angel again. She didn’t have time to listen to anything Willow had to say. Besides, by the time they got back, Angel could very well have left the mansion already.

The only way she was going to know for sure what he was doing in there…was to go in and see for herself.

She waited until she was fairly certain that Angel would not be anywhere near the front door, before slipping cautiously along the side of the house and toward the shadowed entrance to the mansion. She took a deep breath on the porch, preparing herself to walk through the door, though the greater part of her *really* didn’t want to.

*What if he *did* see me? What if he’s waiting for me just inside the door?*

*He’s not, he didn’t see me or he wouldn’t have gone inside…*

*But what if he…?*

*You’re never gonna do this if you don’t just *do it*, Willow, you big scaredy baby…*

She silently pushed the door open, before she could change her mind again, and slipped into the darkened mansion, closing the door behind her, fighting the dreadful sense of finality that seemed to accompany the simple action. She just stood there for a moment beside the door, her wide green eyes desperately seeking any shred of light as they struggled to adjust to the pervasive darkness.

Finally, she began to make out various shapes, shadowed forms in the silent foyer, and she felt her shaking begin to subside as she realized that she was indeed alone in the room. She noticed the faint glow of what appeared to be firelight emanating from a room at the top of the staircase a few feet away; as she watched, the flickering light grew brighter, and she knew that a second candle had been lit upstairs.

*So, that’s where he is…*

Though she was far from comfortable with the situation yet, that thought made her feel infinitely better.

What didn’t make her feel nearly so good was the knowledge that, against her better judgment, she was about to follow him up those winding -- and probably creaking -- stairs.

******************************

The tiny candle Angel had left beside Drusilla’s bed had nearly completely burnt down.

He felt a vague sense of disappointment, and realized with a numb, detached sort of dismay that he had halfway hoped that the thing would burn down to the table on which it rested, consuming the table, the room -- and Dru. Although both vampires could see clearly despite the darkness, perhaps it was the grim nature of those thoughts, and the half-hearted sense of guilt they inspired in him, that made Angel feel the need to brighten the room a bit with a second candle.

Or perhaps, he simply hoped to tempt Dru’s fate a second time, when he left the mansion again.

“Naughty Daddy.”

Dru’s quiet, reproving voice startled Angel, and he jumped, spinning around to face her. She had been so uncharacteristically quiet and calm that he had not even realized she was awake until her slightly slurred voice had broken the silence.

“Dru,” he said softly, and then fell silent, unsure what else to say.

How much of his thoughts, his plans, did she know already without being told?

“Naughty Daddy,” she repeated, dark eyes laughing madly despite the petulant pout of her flawlessly full lips. “Leaving his princess alone in the dark. You’ve come home again…but you haven’t come alone…”

Angel frowned, instinctively glancing around the room before returning his wary gaze to Drusilla’s face. “What do you mean? Who’s here?”

“The little witch…the one you wanted…”

Angel turned abruptly away from her, unable to meet her piercing gaze, seeing and knowing too much for his comfort. “Shut up, Dru.”

An insane giggle of amusement left the lips of the dark vampiress, as she shook her head slowly in a teasing, defiant gesture. “Can’t be quiet enough to make Daddy go away…he’s there, *Angel*…” She spoke the name that Angel had adopted in his souled state with a note of contempt, disgust, in her musical voice. “…always there…even though *you’d* like to pretend he doesn’t exist!”

“Dru, would you be quiet?” Angel muttered irritably, unsettled by the edges of truth to her mad ramblings -- which, at the moment, hardly sounded mad at all.

“She wants to think so, too…wants to think you’re safe…you’re *Angel* now,” Drusilla continued as if he had not spoken at all, a note of triumph to her voice. “But you’re not…you’ll never be who she wants you to be…never again…her Angel is gone…”

“Don’t talk about her!” Angel snapped, turning toward her again, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

Dru did not seem the least bit afraid. “Don’t talk about who?” she asked, taunting him.

“The Slayer, who do you think?”

“Not the Slayer,” Drusilla giggled, as if at a hilarious joke for which only she knew the punch line. “Not her…”

“Then…then, who -- in the *hell* -- are you talking about, Dru?” Angel demanded in a voice of careful, forced patience, barely restraining his rising, irrational anger with his childe.

Dru’s smile vanished, her dark, penetrating eyes suddenly fastened on the doorway just beyond him. She replied without hesitation, her voice low and even and certain.

“The witch.”

Angel spun around to face the doorway, and found his eyes locked with the wide, terrified eyes of the redhead who had followed him into the mansion. She was standing just outside the door, and stumbled backward with a panicked lurch as he turned toward her, stopping only when her back hit the wall behind her.

“Willow,” Angel began, shaking his head as if to disprove her fears as he took a cautious step toward her.

Drusilla let out a manic laugh that made both Willow and Angel jump, turning both pairs of eyes toward her, one in wide-eyed confusion, and the other in irritated annoyance. She shook her head, her wild eyes darting between them as she finally spoke.

“Little red Willow, little witch, you’re not safe here…don’t let the angel lie to you, he’s fallen, he’s wicked, he’s bad…”

“Dru, you are *not* helping. Shut up!” Angel snarled at her, turning back toward Willow, only to find that the harsh, menacing tone of his voice had not helped his case with the nervous redhead in the least.

“He smells your fear…can nearly taste it…and still wants it…”

Willow slowly shook her head in silent denial, unable to find the words as she took a sideways step along the wall, back toward the stairs.

“No, Willow…she’s crazy,” Angel insisted with a nervous, unconvincing laugh. “Come on, anyone can see she’s out of her mind! It doesn’t mean anything…”

“Means everything…it’s true, I can see…you want her like you wanted her that night…you don’t want to want her, but you do want her…bad Daddy…always has been a bad Daddy and always will be…”

“That’s *not* true!” Angel cringed when Willow flinched violently at the anger in his voice. “Willow,” he tried again, his voice softer in an attempt to be soothing. “Willow, I don’t want to hurt you…”

“Yes, he does…yes, he does…Daddy loves your pain…”

“No, I’m not *going* to hurt you, Willow, you don’t have to be afraid…”

“The taste of fear, it’s what he craves…even when he was trying not to…and he’s not trying anymore…” Dru’s words were punctuated with a dark, ominous giggle, as she leaned forward against the chains that still bound her to the bed, gleefully meeting Willow’s eyes, visibly savoring the terror she saw there.

“She’s just trying to scare you, Willow,” Angel reassured her. “She’s crazy. She’s enjoying this! Willow, I’m sorry for what happened, but that wasn’t me…you have to believe me, I wouldn’t…”

“Stop it,” Willow said, finally finding enough of her voice for a tremulous whisper. “Stop it, I don’t…I don’t want to hear it…”

“I barely even remember that night, Willow, I swear it! It wasn’t me. Please, you have to believe me…”

“Oh, he remembers…sometimes on purpose,” Dru argued with a suggestively dark laugh.

Willow let out a low, plaintive moan of distress at those disturbing words, closing her eyes and creeping further along the wall, clearly horrified at the implications of what the vampiress had said.

“Dru, *shut up*!”

“Daddy’s home, Daddy’s home,” she chanted in a childish singsong, bouncing eagerly on the bed. “Come home to stay, he has…”

“I said *shut up!*”

Angel snarled, his temper, frayed to its limits, finally snapping as he whirled on her, thoughtlessly snatching from his waistband the stake that he had taken to carrying with him since he had taken up with the Slayer. Before he knew what he was doing, the rough wood had plunged through his bound, helpless child’s chest, piercing her unbeating heart.

Dark eyes widened, staring up at him, suddenly mirthless, filled with anguish and betrayal.

“Daddy…” she whispered, a barely perceptible shake of her head expressing her disbelief -- just before her body crumbled to ash on the silken sheets beneath her.

Angel stared down at the place where his childe had been, his eyes wide and shocked as his mind slowly processed what he had just done. He hadn’t really intended to do it, hadn’t wanted to harm his helpless, truly child-like, dark princess -- but now that it was done, he found a sense of relief edging into his mind, mingled with the pain of loss.

She was gone.

A single, momentary act of thoughtless anger -- and Drusilla had forever ceased to exist.

He had just been so furious, and she had refused to be quiet, to stop saying those horrible, confusing, dreadful things that were only making Willow more and more terrified of him…and in that moment, he had felt that he had no choice…

He *hadn’t* had a choice…had he?

Some part of his mind, affected by the rather weak influence of his recent soul, wondered uneasily why Drusilla’s words had bothered him so much, incensed him so completely that he would take her life. Could it be that there was some bit of truth within them, some secret knowledge that she had been revealing, that he could not allow?

That thought returned him to the little redhead in the doorway, and he turned toward her -- to find that she was not in the doorway any longer.

Willow had fled.

A momentary sense of panic seized him, and he was suddenly certain that Willow would waste no time in going directly to the Slayer, telling her of the mad vampiress’s ramblings-which-were-more-than-ramblings. Buffy knew that, while Drusilla was clearly insane, she was also prescient.

Would the Slayer believe Willow, when she revealed Angel’s secret confusion, the feelings that he had not yet even had time to come to terms with himself?

He could not afford to find out.

“Willow!” he called, as he took off out the door and down the stairs, anxious to catch up with her before she got back to Buffy. “Willow, wait!”