Disclaimer: I don't claim these characters as mine, I never have. They belong to Joss and the WB. Please don't sue. Killing me Softly is owned by Roberta Flack. Spoilers: 1 year after Becoming.

Killing Me Softly Nate

I heard he sang a good song
I heard he had a style
And so I came to see him
To listen for a while

The Bronze was a precarious mistress to appease. Willow understood this as she stepped tentatively inside its cocoon, expertly scanning the room for friend or foe.

Bronze was a vessel in which both creatures existed uneasily. Diverse and confusing emotions of the tormented. It was no wonder its inhabitants façade of their mistress's veering moods. Sometimes she was mischievous, it's patrons like minded. Young and nimble youth crashing about the dance floor, seeking first chaste, then unchaste kisses. Sometimes she was cruel and dark, every face pale, shrouded in the dark garments of mourning. It wasn't a safe place to be when that happened, and the Slayer came in handy. Other times, she was wild and careless, and heavy metal blared from 5000 dollar speakers. And sometimes, ...introverted, a mix of soul and blues working to soothe deep wounds. Asking forgiveness and, just for this night, given without question. Mostly it raised nocturnal children.

She thought glumly, including him in her search.

This night, The Bronze thrummed loudly with the back-beat of some Disco revival number. Drums and bass ricocheting off the glittering walls encasing its shadowy occupants with a primal craving. The shadows hid much. On one side, there were the wannabes, love-lorn, and the curious virginal few. On the other... every fantasy, made flesh and blood. Desire and hunger never so tangible, as it was made to ensnare her to them.

With surgical precision; a skill attained from nights fighting vampires with the slayer and slayerettes, she moved unharmed and unaffected by it all. Snaking her way purposefully through the crowd, she made her way to the Slayer's table to wait for Oz.

After a few minutes of absently contemplating random dancers, her mind started to drift towards a more serious topic. She and Oz had been arguing heavily over the past several months. First, the fights had been over her obsession with bringing Angel back from Hell. After she had, quarrels hadn't lessened, only switched topics. Oz now resented the time she spent with Angel, and expressed it every chance he got.

To be honest, she couldn't explain that need to be near him either. It was something she had felt, so deeply, it couldn't be expressed with words. She quickly shook of the reverie, she was here to meet Oz.

She flushed slightly, anticipation making her nervous and excited at the same time.

Her hand, delicately straightened unseen creases from her new full length black velvet gown, her admirer sent her. Oz trying to say 'Sorry' had never been more romantic. For a whole week, pale gold roses arrived at her door with prose so sweet as to make the very petals blush next to such reverence. And now this exquisite dress. It must've cost him a pretty penny.

She had doubts meeting him here, after all, it was the owner of this establishment who was the source of their "troubles."

But she had relented, deciding to put no doubts in his mind of how she loved him. After donning the dress, she'd piled her red hair high atop her head, letting nothing but a soft tendrils of fire red drift to her shoulders. Around her neck, a black sequinned ribbon accentuated its creamy length. She looked, all the world, like a vampire goddess, totally unaware of the room pulsing around her, eager to touch this unrivaled midnight deity.

And there he was this young boy
A stranger to my eyes

He emerged from one of the many concealed doorways, with the grace of a tiger, he moved toward her. She suddenly turned, her eyes meeting his for the first time in weeks. She swooned. He evoked such yearning. Rapture. His dark eyes never leaving her for a moment.


The Disco fever fell to a lull and the band retook the stage to finish the 3rd set. He barely noticed, trying to gather his thoughts into some coherent order. The song, his song played for her.

I felt all flushed with fever
Embarrassed by the crowd

"Don't speak.... " He whispered, capturing her hand in his own before she could protest. He lead her out to the dance-floor, sweeping her dramatically into a close embrace. Her lovely red hair, spilled from the hair pins that had held it back, it tumbled down about her shoulders and over his arm in a silky cloud, releasing a tantalizing vanilla fragrance about them as it fell, finally resting upon her creamy white shoulders. Neither seemed to notice. Neither seemed to care. He finally had her in his arms, and he wasn't going to let her go now.

I felt he found my letters
And read each one out loud
I prayed that he would finish
But he just kept right on

"You are beautiful," He whispered, his voice betraying how she was affecting him. "We need to talk, Willow. I've missed you terribly since you left, well, since I left. That argument was terrible and I, I......"

Willow couldn't bare it anymore. She silenced him gently with a finger, pressing it tenderly to his lips. An ember of heat ruptured between them. Both reeling in the sudden emotions it evoked. Willows eyes clouded over, a rush of emotions playing about her.

She reached up to brush his cheek and his stomach tightened as she drew her fingers slowly down his jaw, then down his neck, curling up to retrace her path back to his lips again.

"Willooow...." He breathed into her hair, trying to find the words. His free hand buried itself in her hair, while the other pulled her closer yet to him. When he next spoke, desire punctuating every word. "What have you done to me?!" He moaned softly, " I tried to forget about you. I couldn't. I tried to be angry. I couldn't. I tried to be with another woman. I didn't. You are inside of me, here, in me. And what am I to do but apologize...??"

He sang as if he knew me
In all my dark despair
And then he looked right through me
As if I wasn't there

It was true, they had both known the pain of loss, of falling in love with impossible loves. Of being hurt, alone and guilt ridden. Knowing distance as a form of defense, sharpening instincts. Trust didn't come easily. They both knew this and both were hurt by it. They had grown closer than she had ever imagined. It had terrified her intensely.

Suddenly, his lips brushed hers.

Her mind raced, clearing itself of the music and the sudden temperature in her temples.

She was frantic as he came closer, searching the room hoping that Oz was not going to see them together. Then something caught her eye. Angel held out to her, his hand. And captured within it - a pale gold rose.

Her world slowed. Stopped. Her heart spoke and it whispered his name. A wild fevered mantra, that existed for no other but for him alone. Tonight, and every night after, she would give this gift to him. No time for second thoughts or regrets, as his lips found hers. This was right to her. It felt right. Nothing else did, but this she knew. Understood from the beginning. Didn't she always know?

Softly, almost hesitantly, they kissed again, the passion they had checked every day they had spent together, bubbling just beneath the surface - and so too the surrender promised in the willingness of her lips beneath his.

Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song

He pulled away slightly, breathless and overwhelmed. Her gaze met his steadily, but Angel waited for a minute, wanting her to be sure, wanting this to be the right decision for both of them. Assurance sought and received in tandem. Smiling, Willow reached for him, pulling him to her in a long, tender kiss. No longer afraid of the truth.

Lips so delicately bruised, parted.

Angel and Willow, two souls, two bodies spin, helpless to do anything but revel in the warmth and closeness of the other. Trapped, willingly, in each others embrace they spun and whirled together - dissolving into perfect darkness. Complete, at last.

Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words

Somewhere among the shadows, beneath the veil of many orbiting lights, she stands alone. Solitary and exalted by God. Her fists clench over and over, unconsciously, by her side. Ripples of anger sweep beneath her skin as she watches them disappear from the dance-floor, wrapped in each others arms. Her mouth curls into a cruel smile, depleting the room of her natural beauty. If tonight was any indication, she had a lot of slaying to do. A lot to make up for. Her eyes remained on the shadow they had vanished into, as if she still saw them there.


She conjured up their images in her mind. Willow and Angel. Angel and Willow. Betrayed. Her blood ran cold. The past had closed between them. Everything erased. Forgotten. Death was open for business. New business.

And the future was a moving target. A dancing, spiralling target....God help them now.

Killing..... me..... softly....

THE END

Authors note: First fanfic ever posted. A HUGE thanks you to my Beta reader and new Mentor, A.j. Thanks again. To Trinity, who inspires. To Te Arawa and especially her Mum, Ramona. And to my Mum, the original Monster slayer. Heaven is lucky.

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