Title : The Longest Night
Pairing : Willow/Angelus
Summary : Post Season Seven. Warning Character Death Written for writerconuk
Willow plans a Yule ceremony that unleashes revenge against those who wronged her.
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It would be the perfect celebration for Yule.
Everyone thought she was “cured”. They shipped her off to England for training, and then brought her back to Sunnydale to do their bidding. She was supposed to be their drone. To only do magic when they needed it, to never practice on her own behalf.
They couldn’t feel her pain, didn’t realize the extent of her grief. Didn’t realize how she changed, that she was fundamentally different. And now they wouldn’t know; not until it was too late.
She played her hand perfectly. Came back, smiled perkily, babbled remorsefully, fucked Kennedy and saved the world.
She was thankful to them, destroying the world would have been overkill. She didn’t want to die. She just wanted her revenge. To that end, stopping the First, and herself, from the annual apocalypse fit her agenda just fine.
She thought about it carefully, rationally, and now she had her plan.
It would be the perfect Yule celebration; her rebirth into this world. Her rightful place, with a new lover - who could never replace Tara - but would act as a dark god to her maiden.
Angelus.
She had always admired Angel’s form. Always desired him, wishing he would notice her and not Buffy. But it was when he lost his soul that she became ashamed of her fantasies.
She knew then that what appealed to her most was the forbidden. To have the dark vampire, soulless, dominating her, desiring her, beating her, taking her, was everything her young self had wanted.
Her dreams had been of the two of them, violent lovemaking and screaming orgasms. She wanted to be his, to be claimed, to be owned, to be cherished by the one vampire who could make her a queen.
She had never acted upon it. She desired him, but not death. But now, with dark magics at her fingertips she could take him. Take enough power to be equal, to be his Mate and not simply a possession. She could take the power, take him, and together they would rule their domain.
But first she had to make herself worthy. To be ruler, to be his queen she needed more. She knew she was the most powerful witch on the continent. She had created the slayers after all. But still she desired more. She wanted to, no needed to be, the most powerful of all time, of all dimensions. And she had finally found the ritual that would help her fulfill her destiny.
The irony was rich. Not only would she have her power and her rightful place but also she would take her revenge on those who wronged her, on Buffy. She seethed with hatred. Not only had the Slayer prevented her from killing Andrew and Jonathon for their parts in Tara’s death, but she had sheltered Andrew. Protected him from the First and made Willow face him day after day, knowing that Tara had died, in part, because of his enabling actions.
Warren could have been stopped long before her love’s death. But no, he had friends. Andrew had been his cohort, had helped him, plotted and planned with him and therefore Andrew had to die. Why did no one else understand this simple logic? Why was human life so sacred, when those very humans cared nothing for others?
Taking care of that loose end, would be one of her first actions after her ascension. She loved that word… ascension, but she would never be a demon. She would be herself, just more. More powerful, more goddess like, more everything, and she would smite those who opposed her.
She smiled and squatted down next to the drugged teen that had come out to visit on winter break.
She caressed Dawn’s face. No, she thought correcting herself, it was the Key’s face. She wished things could have been different. She really did like the fake girl. But Dawn simply wasn’t real and her blood would be the final part of the ritual.
It was unfortunate she needed all of the blood; otherwise she could have taken what was needed and wiped the girl’s memory. Then again, seeing Buffy’s face when she realized what her careless actions had wrought would be priceless.
Carefully she placed the teen at the focal point of the room, and began to draw a large circle around both of them and the alter. Once completed, she began her focusing exercises, feeling herself connect even more so to the surrounding magics and the earth below.
A small cut on each of their forearms began the blood-letting and she began to feel the power rise. She smiled triumphantly and began to chant the simple ritual. The power was intoxicating.
She performed another ceremonial cut on her arm and a quick slash across Dawn’s throat. The concluding chant resounded as their blood mingled. Her ascension was complete.
Her eyes went black and then faded to a sparkling green. Her expression predatory she smiled, it was time to find her mate, steal his soul and unleash her revenge.