The world outside the window was an illusion but sometimes she needed that to keep her sanity. She'd sit in the windowsill, knees drawn up to her chin, watching the sun beams move across the garden below. If she closed her eyes and drew in a breath she could almost smell the flowers blooming along neatly tended paths. The tinkle of water in the fountains and the splash of koi filled her head. It was all so beautiful.
And all so fake.
The world outside was divided between the lightly populated utopia of Jasmine and the enslaved dark world of The First. She heard rumors of pockets of free humanity but had no way of determining if they were true.
Willow was the last human alive in Sunnydale and she wasn't free.
While he'd had some hand in the creation of Jasmine, by the time she was born Angelus had broken free and returned to Sunnydale to join The First. Sunnydale had fallen beneath the Turokhan. The Slayers she'd birthed had died. Kennedy...She'd tried to protect Willow but she'd been no match for Angelus.
Willow thought that Buffy and Faith had escaped with a handful of others but she'd seen the bodies of so many of her friends as Angelus had dragged her from the remains of the school that she wasn't sure. The one that would always reside behind her horror-filled eyes was Xander, gutted, his remaining eye staring sightlessly at her.
That had broken her.
What Angelus had done to her for the next several days had destroyed her.
Willow was a shell and a year into her captivity she still wondered why she was alive. Surely it would be easier for everyone if she was a vampire. Angelus kept her for her magic--she'd retain that ability once turned.
And sometimes she wished she was a vampire because then the pain and loss would all just go away.
The door to her room opened and Willow turned from the window, and the illusion created by her magic to stave off the eternal darkness that permeated Sunnydale, to face her captor.
Striding into the room Angelus spotted her immediately, all pale white skin, long red hair, and bruises, dressed in a slinky black silk gown and the gold collar that proclaimed his ownership. He frowned at the emptiness in her eyes but letting her keep her spirit would have been too much of a hassle.
He frowned even more on spying the small gold charm hanging from a chain beneath the collar. Reaching out, he plucked it between two fingers and growled at the pain. A hard yank and the chain broke and the Star of David lay at Willow's feet as she moaned and rubbed her scraped neck. "Where do you keep getting these?" Angelus demanded, grinding the necklace beneath his heel.
"Magic," she whispered. "And I'll keep making them."
His hands clamping around her upper arms made her cry out in pain and he shook her until she fell silent. "There is no god, Willow. Surely you know that by now. No god coming to free you or save you. There is no heaven for you. These symbols are worthless."
"You're wrong," she whispered. "If they were worthless why do they burn you? My belief is all I have left."
"No, you're the one who's wrong, Willow. All you have left is what I allow you," he growled.
As he pulled her to him and buried his mouth in her neck, Willow closed her eyes against the forming tears and pressed her lips shut. Crying only made him happy.
It was true that everything she physically possessed was due to him.
But he couldn't prevent her from holding on to intangibles. Hope remained hers--though a small, feeble thing--and while Jasmine and The First ravished this world she had to believe there was a better one out there. If she lost that, she would truly lose everything.
Much later as Angelus slept, Willow sat on the floor surrounded by candles. The spell outside the window had progressed as it did every day and night had fallen. The longest night of the year. As she did each Winter Solstice, Willow prayed for the return of the true light and not just her fake sun that would rise in a few hours.
Maybe some day her prayers would be answered.
End