DISCLAIMER: Joss, high priest of coolness, please take no offense that I have borrowed your wonderful characters. I don't own them, I don't presume to own them, don't sue or kill me, wonderful people at WB!
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Part Four
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Oz broke away, arm flying up to block the volley of flying glass.
Five vampires, including Angel, flashed their pointy-toothed grins. Angel hissed.
"I want my jacket back."
Oz's hands tightened around Willow's shoulders. "He can't come in unless we invite him, right?" Willow gulped. "He's already been invited!" Angel's form moved into the room, ghostly in the pale moonlight. "That's right, Willow Rosenberg, my little rose. You are a bit like a flower, aren't you? Pure, unspoiled…" Angel picked up a poker from the fireplace. "But not for long!" Angel licked his lips, sending a horrified chill through Willow. It's effect on Oz was rather different.
This time, the vampire was ready. As Oz came at him, he brought the poker around hard, managing only to knock the werewolf off balance…
…directly into the broken front windows. The vampires outside greedily lunged forward, grabbing Oz by either arm. Flailing, he tried to regain his balance, just as Angel swept his legs out from under him, bringing the poker down hard on the base of Oz's neck.
Willow crammed her wrist against her mouth to keep from crying out as she saw her Oz sink to his knees, giving a plaintive, puppy-like whimper before Angel hit him again, this time across the shoulders. Her eyes misted over, and she felt the onslaught of a sob when she was struck by the eerie silence of the house. Sounds were magnified. She thought she could hear her heartbeat.
And as he turned around, she knew that Angel could hear it, too. He flashed her a grin, and Willow didn't need to be urged this time. She ran for the stairs, quickly thinking that the vampires would have the lower part of the house surrounded. Her only hope was to get a hold of Buffy, or even the police. "Gangs on PCP…" She muttered as she neared the landing, not bothering to check for an approaching predator.
Angel's eyes glassed over, enjoying the incredible thrill of pursuit, especially when the prize was one of Buffy's friends. Not to mention a fresh, young virgin. He was startled out of his meandering thoughts by the growl of the vamps still out front.
"Come on, Angelus! Invite us in!" The scrawny little vampire wouldn't live to be fifty, Angel thought. "We're Star-ving!" He said the last part in a whiny little singsong voice.
Angelus arched a refined brow. "Oh, so sorry! How thoughtless of me. The girl is mine, so I assume you'd be wanting this?" He kicked Oz's limp form absently. The vampires licked their chops and nodded. Angelus grinned. "Don't you people know anything? They only eat dog meat in China." The vamps howled in protest, clawing at the invisible barrier that kept them from dinner.
Spinning on his heel, Angel walked toward the kitchen, and then paused, fingering one of the small remaining gashes from his earlier encounter with Oz. "But I may make an exception in this case. As long as you've done your jobs and cut the phone lines." Angel rummaged through the kitchen, returning with two champagne flutes and a bottle of wine. "After all, why shouldn't we leave two dead bodies hanging from the tree out front instead of one? More panache."
Whiny vamp spoke up again as Angel was climbing the stairs. "What do you need those for?"
Angel held up the bottle of wine. "To set the mood, of course! Not a very good year, but… She isn't exactly the Queen of Sheba."
"Or the Slayer." Whiny vamp was asking for it.
But Angelus was in a good mood. "You're right. But then, Buffy couldn't tell the difference between Colt .45 and Korbell." As he moved up the stairs, he began to sing softly.
"I'm in the mood for love…"
* * *
(Willow's Bedroom)
Willow pushed the bureau against her door, silently praying for a miracle, and hoping Oz was all right. The phone was dead, and her modem line was out too. Probably cut by Angel's henchmen. Why couldn't her life go right for a change? Why couldn't she have Cordelia's life? Or Ms. Calendar's? Okay, Maybe not Cordelia's life…she was too high maintenance. Oh, and as a gypsy, she would have to be working against the group. Damn. Being herself was …well, the best choice.
But maybe not now. Willow braced herself against all her furniture that was barricading the door, preparing for a siege. It was late… Maybe she could hold out… for six more hours?!? "Oh, God…" She slumped against her bureau, getting goosebumps as a soft voice sang from the hallway.
"…simply because you're near me…"
The knob turned slightly, then shook a little. "Knock, Knock!" Angel brightly exclaimed through the other side of the door. "Room service!…Aw, come on, Will. Open up for your good friend Angel."
Willow couldn't stand it anymore. She piped up. "Go away and leave me alone!" She listened.
Silence. She listened again.
More silence.
WHAM! Willow tumbled from the pile of furniture, rolling out of the way in barely enough time to avoid the falling bureau. She took stock of herself, No broken bones, no bleeding. Okay. Then she looked up to see Angelus' smiling face, index finger waggling at her. "You women today are such teases." She crawled backwards, as he moved into the room, wine in one hand, closing the door with the other. "Don't you know anything?"
"In my 242 years of experience, Yes means no, and no always means yes."
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