Willow squirmed in her tabletop confines. She couldn't believe this was happening nor could she imagine what Abel had in store for her.
"Tell me, how do you feel?" asked Abel as he was busy about something out of Willow's sight. She thought she had misheard at first.
"What?" she returned at the awkward question.
"How do you feel?" reiterated Abel.
"I don't feel fine," Willow answered. It was the best reply she could come up with.
"No, no. You misunderstand me. I was asking the question in a literal sense," corrected Abel. He turned with a thin, metal needle-like object in his hands.
"I'd imagine your skin would be so young and smooth, wouldn't it?" Abel speculated as he examined the needle absently. Willow felt more and more uncomfortable. With Oz and all the scurrying zombies gone she felt very alone with her captor. She hadn't realized how cold and spacious the room was.
Abel poked the needle into his index finger with precision. When he pulled it out his finger healed as quickly as one could think.
"Did you know that I can't feel? In the literal sense that is," questioned Abel. No answer was given.
He continued explaning, "The very demons and dark forces we summon and manipulate corrupt our bodies. A variety of twisted malformations are common among necromancers. The most prevalent are complection irregularities and the lack of touch sensory."
Abel snapped out of his trance like stare, got up, and began sorting through objects again.
"I suppose it's to our advantage, not being able to feel that is," he said as he sat and closed his eyes.
"But, there are times and experiences where one would rather savor the moment with a sense of touch. And where there's a will, there is a way," said Abel. He openend his eyes to reveal no longer a pink hue, but a common brown. Gradually color returned to his normally pallid skin.
Abel scrambled for the needle once again to see if his endeavor had suceeded. He eagerly poked it into his index finger and withdrew the needle quickly.
"Hah ha! It worked," he exclaimed with gladness.
"Aach!" again exclaimed Abel this time out of a realization of pain. He shook his hand in the air until the discomfort subsided. Now he turned his attentions to Willow.
Abel walked malevolently to where Willow couldn't see him. She strained to raise her head off the table and barely made out his figure beyond her feet. He closed to the edge of the table slowly.
"Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you," said Abel quietly. Willow could feel the fear rise in her neck. It was punctuated by her increasingly louder and louder heartbeat. She closed her eyes and tried with all her will to not be there.
The outstretched hand of Abel made contact with Willow's calf and she turned her head away. The unwanted hand slid up her leg. It caused a kick reflex that was subdued by the four point restraints, but succeeded in the removal of the intrusive appendage.
"Relax. . . relax. . .," Abel whispered. He gently unbuckled the ankle clamps on the table.
Meanwhile a trepidatious Buffy finished her descent into the underground lair that Abel called home. Her eyes shifted right to left in anticipation for the prophesized death trap. After passing several uncaring zombies she concluded that it wasn't going to sprung. She quickend her pace down the dark hallway.
"Hmmm, he must be preoccupied with something," Buffy guessed aloud.
Abel's hand once again met Willow's calf. He let it remain there for a few more seconds. It held nearly stationary, but Willow could feel a very slight rubbing motion. It once again made its way up along her leg. This time it was much slower.
Willow just remained still. She felt moisture in her tightly closed eye and realized she was crying. How could this be happening to her? Why was this happening to her? She kept as still as she could and hoped it would all go away. As the cold, unwanted hand passed over her knee and up her thigh she never had regretted wearing a skirt so much ever in her life.
Buffy turned a chance corner and peered through a doorway to see one of her best friends at the mercy of one of her worst enemies. Anger bellowed up out of her gut and raged itself at the human monster that was Abel. She didn't have time to think. Buffy always kept a stake handy and without concious effort it was thrown from her hand.
"Grrarh!" yelled Abel in pain and he staggered to turn around. He reached around and removed the stake from his back. Looking at it in unbelief he finally tossed it aside.
"How dare you use your mundane weapons against me like I'm some vampire?" angrily questioned Abel while still feeling the hurt of a sharp object.
"I will make quick work of you!" he declared as he raised fists bellowing hellfire. Buffy gulped and braced herself to be hit by this evil weapon. To her wonder, however, the terrible flames didn't leap forward at her. Instead they ignited upon Abel's body like someone doused in gasoline.
Buffy relized the extent of the backfire as Abel fell to the floor in agony. His own cries of pain couldn't be heard over the loud, deafening screams of the hellfire. He must of danced in macabre death throes for quite awhile. Buffy was content to stand back and watch it happen. The cataclysim petered out and Abel's body lay still on the ground.
With the grandness of Abel's demise over, quiet took over the scene enough for Buffy to make out a traumatized, crackling voice. She strained to hear the quiet sound after her ears had been bombarded by the loud noise that came before it. It was Willow's voice.
"Buffy. . . Buffy. . .," the voice timidly called out in a slow cadence.
Buffy answered the cry of her friend who was going through stages of shock. She ran as quickly as she could to Willow's side and ripped her restraints away. Willow gazed up, but looked right through Buffy.
At a loss for anything to do or say, Buffy picked up Willow's shoulders off the table and embraced her in a sisterly hug. Willow continued to speak out Buffy's name in a sadening call for salvation.
"I'm here. . . you're safe," Buffy said. With her spoken words also came the implied promise of a powerful fidelity.
Xander came upon the scene and attempted to catch his breath now that he had caught up. He glanced over at Buffy and Willow and then at Abel's body. Fixated, he slowly closed with the body until he was standing over it. He leaned over and felt for a pulse.
"Is he?" asked Buffy while still comforting Willow.
Xander waited a couple seconds and was actually glad that he didn't feel a pulse. He started to turn to deliver the good news when a faint heartbeat startled him. How could someone survive in this state? He turned and faced Buffy without a word on his lips. She could tell that Abel had survived somehow by the mixed expression of concern and fear on Xander's face.
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