Title: Then and Now
Author: Kat, a.k.a. KallieRose
E-mail: [email protected]
Rating: NC-17 
Pairing: Willow/Angelus
Disclaimer: I acknowledge Joss Whedon as god of gods. All the characters in this story are his creation, along with Fox, the rest of the Mutant Enemy Crew, and whomever else wants to lay claim to them. I'm merely killing time by putting them in totally unrealistic situations :-)
Summary: Angelus takes an interest in Willow, in order to tick off Buffy.  But it doesn't quite turn out the way he expects it to.
Spoilers: Spoilers for season 2 Buffy
A/N:  A huge thanks to Gabrielle and Lisa for all their help and support.  Without the help and encouragement of these two wonderful ladies this story would probably just be stuck inside my demented little head.

Then and Now

Part 27

Willow took a deep breath, steeling herself before she entered the library.  She'd needed to meet with several of her teachers after class in order to catch up on what she'd missed, so as a result there had been almost no time to talk to her friends between classes or at lunch.  So for all intents and purposes, this was it.  The first meeting P.A.

There was a growing tendency in her mind to think of things B.A. (before Angelus) and P.A. (post Angelus).  Their time together had brought about such changes in her life that she tended to think of it as much more than just her sexual awakening or her first love.  It had centered her attention much more on who she really was, and how she was treated by those she considered friends.  A cool steel backbone had emerged, along with a calm deportment that she imagined would surprise the people she was about to see tonight.  They still thought of her as quiet, malleable, timid Willow; but that perception would change, starting now.

Willow pushed open the library's swinging door, entering and standing quietly to one side as her eyes took in the scene before her.  Jenny sat at the computer, while Giles stood over her, squinting untrustingly at whatever information was displayed on the screen.  A few feet away at the large round table that was the centerpiece of the room, Xander and Cordelia sat talking to Buffy.  Or rather, listening to Buffy, who seemed to be doing most of the talking.

She was sitting on Angel's lap, one tanned arm slung casually around his neck, as she chattered away at Cordelia about some outfit she had seen at the mall.  The fingers of her hand touched his neck in a casual caress, the blood red nails standing out shockingly against his pale skin.  They looked like the perfect picture of high school sweethearts.

As if he could sense her gaze, Angel's head turned to look at her, his eyes hooded, giving nothing away. She wondered what he was thinking right now; his expression certainly gave her no clue.

Buffy had noticed when Angel's gaze had wandered, and she turned around to see what or who had taken his attention away from her.  "Hey Willow," she greeted casually, motioning her friend over.  "Look who's back!" she enthused, planting a brief kiss on Angel's lips.

"Hi Buffy," she said, trying very hard not to be uncomfortable with the sexual display before her.  Buffy had never been particularly affectionate with Angel when others were around.  Willow knew that in private there had been lustful kissing and roving hands, but in public they had usually been fairly circumspect.  But tonight was different.  It was as if Buffy were trying to mark Angel as her property.  Was it just a natural reaction to all that had happened between them, or did she suspect that she had a rival for Angel's attentions?

"Willow," Angel nodded gravely.  He looked rather ridiculous, Willow thought, what with Buffy hanging all over him like a lovesick puppy.  She was big with the touching and kissing, but he seemed oddly subdued, almost distracted.

She nodded back at him, and then went around to Giles and Jenny, curious to see what had them so enthralled.

The familiar colors of her most trusted demon database webpage came into focus as she looked over Jenny's shoulder, uncomfortably conscious of the fact that Angel's eyes were still upon her.  Resisting the urge to return his stare, she concentrated on the conversation between the two adults.

"This computer may say that they're relatively harmless, but Buffy swears she saw one taking a chunk out of a homeless person last night," Giles muttered, automatically assuming that any information that came from a computer had to be somewhat suspect.

Willow stared at the page for a moment, noticing that there was something oddly familiar about the demon on the webpage before them.  A Grenlak demon, according to the text; a nasty looking green beast with tusks and beady yellow eyes.  An off-shoot of the Grenlee tribe, it was largely herbivorous.  However...

"Can I just click on something?" she asked eagerly, smiling apologetically at Jenny when she stood up and gave Willow the chair.  "Thanks," she offered.

A couple of keystrokes later and Willow was at the home page for the Grenlee tribe.  From there she clicked on the link for the Greglar demon's home page, featuring an animal that looked quite similar to the Grenlak demon, except that it sported a mouthful of sharp, flesh-tearing teeth.  Willow spun the computer screen around so that it faced Buffy.  "Was this it?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah, that's the nasty looking thing," Buffy confirmed, her eyes staring at the image with a burning anger.  "Not only did the stupid demon made me break a heel on my new shoes, but it pushed me down in the mud, and now I'm going to have to pay to have my new mini-skirt dry cleaned."  She shot a calculating glance in Giles' direction, "Doesn't the Council have some sort of Wardrobe Fund for Slayers?  I mean, I lose more clothes this way!"

Giles merely nodded placatingly, his attention back on the webpage.  "Thank you, Willow," he said quietly.  "That was a keen observation."

Xander, who had been engaged in a deep lip-lock with Cordelia, finally came up for air and gave Willow one of his goofy smiles.  "Hey, friend," he said happily.  "Glad to have you back."

Willow smiled back at him, basking in Giles' praise and Xander's greeting.  She ignored completely the calculating look that Cordelia was giving her.  "Nice shirt, I guess," the brunette allowed grudgingly.  Willow had worn one of the sleeveless turtleneck shirts that Jenny bought for her, the cobalt blue of the neck contrasting nicely with the bright orange-red of her hair as it brushed the collar.

Instead of shooting back an insult, or looking embarrassed at the left-handed compliment, Willow merely met Cordelia's cool gaze with one of her own, giving her a brief, "Thanks," before looking back down to study the webpage.

"Well, if we've got one of these bad boys in town, it should be pretty easy to kill," she told them.  "According to the webpage, a simple decapitation should do it."

"I came, I saw, I slayed," Buffy stated, popping up off of Angel's lap and heading into Giles' office to pick up her jacket.  "C'mon oh vampy one," she commanded, grabbing Angel's arm and pulling him to his feet.  "We've got a demony thing to behead.  Then we're gonna go Bronze, yes?"

"Meet ya there," Cordelia called out, pulling Xander to his feet and heading for the door.  Her eagerness to be out of the library was almost comical.  Xander threw Willow and the two adults an apologetic grin and then raced to catch up with his girlfriend.

"Wow, I can sure clear a room, can't I?" Willow groused.

Giles chuckled wryly.  "They're still children, while you, Willow, are an adult.  That's something to be proud of, even if it doesn't seem like it."

She considered the words for a moment before getting out of the computer chair and allowing Jenny to re-take her seat there.  "I guess you're right," she replied, although she didn't sound particularly sure of that.  "It's just that sometimes I'd like to be a silly kid again," she said wistfully.

As inwardly-focused as she was, she missed the knowing glance that passed between Giles and Jenny.  At a nod from the young teacher, Giles wandered off to his office, pretending to busy himself in a pile of paperwork.

"It's not always going to feel like that," Jenny promised, grabbing Willow's hand and squeezing lightly.  "Trust me.  In a couple of years from now, when you've already decided what you want to do with your life, the Buffys and Cordelias of this world will be completely lost.  You'll be the one who is in control."

Willow looked at Jenny and hoped that she would have that type of wisdom and kindness when she reached the other woman's age.  "I know you're right.  And I'm really grateful that you're in my life to tell me these things..."

"But right now it doesn't help you at all, does it?" Jenny asked sadly, a knowing smile on her lips.

"Not much," Willow agreed, putting her head on the table and closing her eyes.  "But thanks for trying."

She sat there for a moment, considering her options. "I think I'm gonna go home now, if there's nothing earth-shattering going on.  I still get tired really easily."

"That's fine.  I'll drive you, and we'll stop and get chocolate ice cream on the way.  I hear it cures all of life's problems," she said with a conspiratorial wink.

Part 28

'Tired, so tired,' Willow thought as she locked the front door behind her.  She hadn't been exaggerating when she told Jenny she still got tired rather easily.  It was just that the lack of energy she felt had less to do with physical weariness and more to do with the effects of her emotional state.

She had been so nervous about coming face-to-face with her friends, in the same setting where she had felt so much pain and betrayal before.  And yet the actual meeting itself had been a bit of an anti-climax.  But in spite of the brevity, there had still been some unsettling realizations.

First, there was Xander and Cordelia.  Despite her recent heart-to-heart with Xander, she understood now that things would never be the same between the two of them.  He had Cordelia now, and even though her heart hurt at the thought of it, she acknowledged that he was almost a grown-up and as such, he had to be allowed to make his own decisions.  Maybe they sucked, but that was his problem.

And then there was punch in the face when she had seen Angel and Buffy together.

They looked the same as they ever had, wearing the crown of king and queen of the Scoobies, star-crossed lovers separated by years and by destiny.  It was as if the last two weeks had never happened.  Buffy was all smiles and touchy-feely, while Angel sat quietly, looking like he was just this side of a brood-fest.  And yet there were times when she could have sworn she felt his eyes on her, watching her, measuring and assessing her. Was it because he didn't trust her?  Or was it the demon attempting to make his presence felt in some unnoticed way?

Willow climbed the stairs to her room, her feet dragging behind her.  When she reached her room, she quickly undressed and pulled on an oversized t-shirt, then pulled back her covers and plunked down into bed, sinking gratefully into the comfortable mattress.  She pulled the covers tight around her, luxuriating in the feeling of warmth and softness.

As she lay quietly, her mind began to wander, and her thoughts drifted inevitably to Angelus.  She missed his nightly visits.  Willow had never minded sleeping in an empty house before, but tonight she felt not just alone, but lonely.  She missed the talking and teasing, the way that he said her name, like it was a caress. And god help her, she missed the other things he did to her; things that didn't involve words at all.

Without conscious thought, her right hand wormed its way under the covers, lightly stroking her breasts.  She thought of Angelus again. 'Lower,' she heard him say, and she hurried to obey.  Her hand moved lower, ghosting its way down her stomach.

When she reached the band of her underwear, her hand slipped underneath, teasing her curls with a light, circular motion, moving ever lower.  Her hand reached the lips of her sex, a finger sinking slowly into her depths, seeking that special spot.  Adding another finger, she moved them in and out slowly, languidly, letting her passion build higher and higher, until her body tingled with the excitement of impending release.  Then, just before she reached the edge of her orgasm, she backed off and waited, bringing her hand up to tease her breasts.

She repeated this delicate dance over and over, using her fingers to raise her body to the edge of release, but never allowing herself to fall into that blessed oblivion.  It was a punishment and a test, and she knew that the pent-up tension would explode when she finally allowed herself to come.

Sweat formed on her body, courtesy of the humid warmth of friction and sex, and she imagined that she could smell the scent of her own arousal.  It was cloying and sweet, and she wished she could know if this was what it had smelled like to him.

At long last she decided that this is it, this time she would allow herself to come, to explode, to find her release.  Her fingers sped up their thrusts, brushing against her g-spot with each and every movement. She whimpered quietly; she was so very close.  Her thumb circled her clit, squishing it down against her pelvis as her fingers continued their thrustings, moving faster and faster within her.  And at the very end, her other hand snuck to her breasts, grabbing and twisting a nipple, the pain and pure sensation sending her careening over the edge and into orgasm.

She saw his face as she came, dark hair framing the smirking face of a fallen angel.  Her legs clenched and released in time with her inner muscles, and her fingers continued to stroke her sex, prolonging the sensations of joy.

Now that she had come, her body relaxed and weariness consumed her once again.  Within minutes she was fast sleep, a smile on her lips, as she drifted into dreams of Angelus.

Angel could feel the walls closing in on him as he paced the floor of his tiny apartment.  He felt oddly on edge and was unable to figure out exactly what was to blame for his mood.  Stopping to grab a book from the bookshelf, he turned it idly in his hands, feeling absolutely no interest in reading the tome he held.

His mind drifted back to Buffy, as it often did.  They had patrolled tonight, just like they always had.  And they had talked.  Well, she had talked, mostly.  He had listened.

And as she had talked, prattling on about one insubstantial thing after another, his thoughts had wandered away from what she was saying, and had concentrated on a specific evening with Willow.

She and Angelus had spent hours talking.  Art, history, love and other emotions, all of them had been touched upon.  She was smart.  Not just book smart, but the kind of smart you got from living life, and paying attention while you did it.  And yet, when Angelus had poked holes in one of her pet theories, instead of closing up or fighting him, she had listened curiously, absorbing what he said.  When she agreed with him, she would reorder her thoughts into something new, incorporating his ideas into her own.  But just as often they would disagree, and her persuasive arguments would sometimes tempt him to change his mind on subjects and views he had held for decades.

Somehow Buffy's prattle seemed small and insignificant by comparison.

He wasn't being fair to Buffy, he acknowledged.  She hadn't known that it was a test.  If she had, maybe she could have come up with something better, more important, less trivial.  Or maybe not.  The demon chuckled in glee at the thought.  Even Angel had to agree that Buffy just didn't have the brainpower that Willow did.  They were opposite sides of the coin:  darkness and light; brain and brawn.

This whole line of thought was ridiculous and he knew it.  Pitting one girl against another in a mental decathlon was stupid, and insulting to both of them.  And besides, what did it really matter anyway?  He could never have either of them.

'Yes you can,' the demon tempted, filling his mind with images of Willow, naked, her legs open, her face flushed with passion.  Angel cursed the demon, but his cock twitched all the same, becoming hard quickly and pushing uncomfortably against the constriction of his trousers.

With a sigh of defeat, Angel went to his bed, quickly unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop to the floor.  He sat down, running his hand lightly over his now fully erect cock.  The organ jerked further to attention, and Angel knew he had no choice.  The pressure would continue to build, making concentration impossible.  He might as well give in to it now.

He circled the head slowly with his thumb, reveling in the feeling that emanated from the sensitive tip.  It wasn't the same as being enveloped in a warm, wet mouth, but it had its merits.

His grip became harder, more punishing, as he continued.  His hand became a blur as it moved faster and faster, bringing him closer and closer to the release he craved.  He thought of Buffy, sun glinting off her golden hair, as she looked eagerly up into his face.

But as he watched the image changed; now it was darker, shadows covering the face in his mind's eye.  It was a girl lying on a bed he realized, as the scene became clearer.  Glowing candles lit the room, which was dominated by a large, king-sized bed, covered with a black bedspread.  But it was the figure lying on the bed who drew his attention.

Red hair framed a face that was creased in pain and passion, the crowning glory of a pale, naked body marred by bites and scratches.  Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and Angel came hard, the pale fluid covering his hand and splashing onto his chest as his cock spasmed.

"Willow," he groaned, but the name wasn't said in passion.  Shame lashed at him as he sat, affording him no time to enjoy the aftermath of his release.  His soul waged battle once again with the demon.  And this time he feared that the demon was winning.

It was the sight of Willow that had allowed him to find his release, not the light, happy face of the Slayer.  He was a monster, and here in the quiet of his room, he could deny it no longer.  Only it wasn't the demon he was referring to, but the soul.  The soul had reaped enjoyment from the scene the demon had presented to it; had enjoyed seeing Willow like that.  That was the thing that made him sick with disgust.

'We're not so different after all,' the dark, hateful voice gloated, pushing him just a bit farther down a path paved with despair and self-loathing.

Part 29

The next day had been a quiet one on the hellmouth, something for which Willow was eternally grateful.  She felt almost back to normal, the iron pills and rest both contributing to her improvement, but occasionally an odd lethargy would overtake her, and she would seek out the nearest chair for a brief rest.

Her friends didn't seem to notice, wrapped up as they were in their own lives.  Most of the time she was grateful for their preoccupation; there were too many awkward questions that she couldn't answer, so silence and avoidance were necessary.

But there was a small, selfish part of her that wished they *would* notice that she wasn't quite herself.  She longed for a strong pair of arms to hold her and comfort her, and while the arms her friends had weren't quite the arms she longed for, they would be better than nothing.  But nothing was all she had.

As afternoon passed into early evening, Willow headed home once again to an empty house.

Deciding she needed something more substantial than the soup she had planned on having, Willow called and ordered pizza from the new place in town.  When her order arrived it was actually rather good, much to her surprise, and she hoped that this place lasted a little longer than its predecessor.  Then again, it wasn't their fault that a Vengar demon with a sweet tooth had decided to raze the place to the ground in fury when told that they didn't have any more of their dessert pizzas.

Just business as usual in Sunnydale.

Willow went to bed early that evening, deciding to take full advantage of the lull in hellmouthy activity.  Chances were pretty good that within a day or two, some big new evil would be de-lurking, and much research would be needed.  Making a mental note to tell Xander to try the new pizza place, she put on a nightgown and settled in for a good night's sleep.

Of course, as with most of her plans, it didn't quite work out that way.

At first her dream-addled mind didn't even hear the knocking.  It had just inserted a woodpecker into the dream she was having, and that woodpecker had pecked in a way that sounded almost exactly like a person knocking on her french doors.

But for some reason the sound persisted, even after Willow had waved the strange bird away.  And in instead of fading away, the sound seemed to get louder, more frequent, and more insistent.  Dream-Willow frowned in confusion, then finally pushed herself through the gauze-like layers of consciousness until she was at least partially awake.

The person she saw on the other side of her french door jolted her the rest of the way to full consciousness.

"Buffy?"  Sure enough, it was Buffy who had been knocking so insistently on her doors.

Willow took in Buffy's appearance; tears coursed down her face, leaving shiny wet streaks in their wake.  Her face was a mask of grief, eyes scrunched closed, hands moving up to wipe the tears away, before going back down to clench and unclench in agitation at her sides.  Buffy opened her eyes and looked at Willow beseechingly, then looked down at her hand, grasping and turning the handle of the locked door until it rattled anxiously.  She looked back across the room at Willow, her eyes begging the other girl to get out of bed and let her in.

With an internal sigh that she hoped didn't show on her face, Willow reluctantly pulled aside the covers and got up, walking to the door and opening it.  Buffy slunk inside, and without a second's thought, threw herself into Willow's arms and began sobbing desperately.

'What the hell?' Willow thought, trying to gently move the blonde towards the bed.

They sat there for a moment, Buffy rubbing her eyes and trying to compose herself, while Willow merely looked on uncertainly.  Finally curiosity got the better of her, and she asked the question that had been on the tip of her tongue from the moment she saw Buffy.  "What's going on?"

Still in the grip of her misery, Buffy managed only a whisper of a reply, but the words shocked Willow nonetheless.  "It's Angel.  He dumped me."  Another long, loud wail followed her words, and Willow's thoughts turned inward, trying to figure out what Angel was doing.

"He dumped you?  What do you mean?  Aren't you two soulmates?  Forever?  How could he dump you?"

"Exactly!" Buffy cried, throwing herself into the redhead's arms again.  Willow held Buffy lightly, her hand going up to automatically stroke Buffy's blonde locks, while her mind considered the new developments.

"Did he give a reason?" she asked quietly, trying to piece together what had happened between the two of them.

Buffy stopped for a moment, looking up at Willow with her shattered eyes.  "He-he said that it was too dangerous.  That we were too dangerous.  He could-he could get happy again, and..." the words trailed off, ending with a small hiccup.  She seemed to be making an effort to pull herself together a bit, for which Willow was grateful.

Looking at her miserable friend, Willow squashed the temptation to be petty.  Buffy hadn't been there to help her when she had needed it, but the circumstances had been different then.  She was going to be a good friend to Buffy, whether she deserved it or not.  Or at least she'd try her best.

"So he did it for your own good," Willow said quietly, trying to remind Buffy about the big picture.  "He didn't want you to get hurt.  That's noble and good."  And very much like Angel, she thought.

"But-but, I need him!" Buffy replied sadly, her head dropping down to her chest.  "I can't survive without him, Willow.  I'd do anything to secure his soul so that we could be together.  Anything."

Willow sighed, sorrow for her friend fighting with the sadness she felt at the prospect of Angel having a permanent soul.  Certainly it would be best if he did, but the thought that Angelus would never be able to break free again filled her with both relief and misery.  She knew that it was silly, but as long as there was the slightest chance the soul wasn't permanent, she could always feel like Angelus was there inside Angel, watching her.  Willow knew the notion was fanciful at best, but it didn't stop her from feeling that way.

"Jenny is looking for a permanent soul spell for him," Buffy confided, her tears drying bit by bit.  "You could help her.  With the research, right?  It's not like you have anything else going on," she added tactlessly.  She watched as Willow winced a bit at her words.  "Sorry," she offered.

Even though what Buffy asked of her was something that made HER want to cry, Willow nodded slowly.  She reminded herself that her friend had no idea what losing Angelus for good would do to her.  She kept telling herself that, as Buffy began to talk animatedly about Angel, and how if they found a way to anchor his soul, they could be together again.  About how happy he'd be, and how clever she was for coming up with the idea.  Willow decided it would be best not to mention that the idea actually originated with Jenny.  Buffy certainly wouldn't welcome that brush with reality right now.

Buffy hugged her again, getting up and heading for the door.  "Thanks Willow," she said gratefully, a bit of the bounce returning to her step.  Apparently she had such faith in their finding a cure for Angel that his dumping was completely forgotten.

"Yeah, sure," she replied, once Buffy had left.  In all honesty, she had very mixed feelings about what Buffy had asked her to do.  Sure, logically she knew that it was for the best.  Regardless of what had happened between her and Angelus, he was still a killer.  And not just someone who killed to survive.  He lived for the kill, savored the taste of the fear as it spiced the blood of his victims.  She shivered involuntarily at the thought.

But underneath all of that, the possibility that he would never be with her again made her heart weep, and her eyes followed suit.

Angel wandered one of Sunnydale's numerous cemeteries, looking eagerly for something to kill.  He had been cooped up indoors during the long day, giving him lots of time to think.  It hadn't been easy or enjoyable, but he had needed to come to some decisions.

He didn't love Buffy.  He knew that now.  Maybe he never had.  Perhaps he had chased after her just like he chased after redemption:  something he never expected to achieve, but could not stop working towards.  But even so, being around her was dangerous.  There was just too much temptation there; too much of an urge to lose himself in her and the love and acceptance she offered.  The minute he allowed himself to become comfortable with all of that, allowed himself to feel it again, he would be happy, and the whole demented cycle would start all over again.

And Willow was just as dangerous, although for different reasons.

Angelus loved Willow.  Angel didn't understand it, but he believed it.  And as strange as it seemed, Willow loved Angelus right back.  Maybe she had reservations about her feelings, and maybe she didn't; he couldn't begin to guess.  But they had been happy together, as much as the circumstances had allowed.

And because of that, the demon would never stop trying to get to her, no matter what the cost.  Even if it cost Willow her life.  Especially if it cost her her life.

There was also a lot of anger behind his feelings.  Willow had bested him at his own game, had tricked the trickster.  He wanted to make her pay for her deceit.  But tightly threaded into that anger was also pride; he was proud that the woman he had chosen was so intelligent, so resourceful, so devious.

But what the demon would never understand was the motivation behind Willow's actions.  It wasn't her fear of death and the afterlife that had forced her to do the things she had; it was the devotion she had to her friends, even as they stepped on her, lied to her, and humiliated her.  Still her loyal heart refused to do anything less than everything she could, if it would keep them safe.  Even at the price of her own happiness.

If Angelus came back, he would claim her and punish her, and the young woman who was just beginning to know who she was would be gone forever, replaced by a demon.  He could never allow that to happen.

Yes, there were just too many opportunities for a fatal mistake if he stayed here in Sunnydale.  That was why he was going to have to leave.

Part 30

Buffy looked to be in entirely brighter spirits the next day.  Her face held a happy, carefree smile.  The evidence of the tears that had fallen so copiously the previous night was long gone by the following afternoon, helped along by time, and by the careful application of a superior foundation.

Willow walked along beside her friend, listening without hearing as she rambled on about her newest plan to bring Angel back into her arms.  Willow made the appropriate noises of approval at what she hoped were the appropriate times, but her mind was miles away as the two friends made their way down the hall to the school library.

The late afternoon sun was drawing the day to a close as they entered the empty library.  Buffy quickly went in search of her Watcher, while Willow took her usual seat at the computer, performing the keystrokes to bring her online to check her email. As she suspected there wasn't a whole lot there, but since she never knew when someone would need to get in touch with her, she checked faithfully every afternoon.

"Willow."  The softly spoken word startled her, causing her to push her chair backwards and attempt to get to her feet, in order to face the vampire behind her.  In her haste her feet became tangled in the chair legs, and if it weren't for the strong hands that grasped her upper arms, she would have fallen to the ground.

She stilled instantly at his touch, looking up to see solemn brown eyes staring down at her.  In the depths of those eyes she saw the ever-present guilt and sorrow, along with amusement, quickly hidden.

"I'm sorry," he told her quietly, his thumbs brushing lightly over the bare skin of her upper arms.  She wore one of the sleeveless light cotton turtlenecks that Jenny had bought her, a dark purple one this time.  The design of the shirt bared the skin of her arms to his calming hands, and for just a moment she allowed herself to enjoy his touch.

"I didn't want to startle you," he whispered, "so I thought I'd just say something.  Guess it wasn't such a good plan, huh?"

She concentrated on his voice and the feel of his hands, closing her eyes and just reveling in the input to her senses.  "Umm," was all the reply she could manage.

Angel became aware of her preoccupation, and effect his touches were having on her.  He stepped away from her quickly, releasing her so suddenly that she had to grab for the chair to keep herself upright.  Her eyes flew to his, taking in the startled expression she saw there.

Flushing in mortification, Willow looked down again and took several steps back, her breath coming in rasping pants, as she tried to put some much-needed distance between them.  Obviously his actions had been unthinking, and she forced herself not to place any meaning on them that was not really there.  "Sorry," she offered, her voice thick with embarrassment. "Touching-not on the list of things we do now," she added in that same choked-up voice.

"Sorry.  I didn't think about..." his voice trailed off, just as embarrassed as she was.  The demon had tricked him again, subtlely manoeuvering to take control and touch her when she came close.

Willow moved to take a seat towards the middle of the long rectangular table, surprised when Angel came around to sit across from her.  He regarded her calmly for a moment, reaching out with his senses to make sure that nobody else was close by.  When satisfied that there was no chance they would be overheard, he leaned towards her, resting his elbows on the table.

"Have you talked to Buffy?" he asked uneasily.  At her quick nod, "And she told you..."

"That you broke up?"  Her voice was calm, but he could see the emotions in her eyes, and even in the way that she fidgeted in her chair, legs moving restlessly, fingers picking at a hangnail as her hands rested on top of the table.

"How is she?" He knew that Buffy was strong, a survivor both emotionally and physically.  But the soul needed confirmation.  Even if this was for all of their own good, the soul still hated to hurt the girl he had once thought he loved.

Willow shrugged, her eyes wandering aimlessly around the room, refusing to meet his.  They settled at last upon a book of ancient Rom faery tales.  How fitting, she thought.

"She's fine.  Already has a plan to win you back," she answered tonelessly.

Angel's sigh was weary, but unsurprised.  He knew the five stages of grief, just like anyone else who had read self-help books during the 70s.  She must still be stuck in the 'denial' phase.  "I was afraid she'd do something like that," he admitted.

"She loves you," Willow whispered sadly, forcing herself not to choke on a sob.  The conversation was hitting too close to home for her, and her sadness and discomfort were growing in leaps and bounds.

"I'm sorry, Willow," Angel said, wishing he could comfort her.  He had acted selfishly, not thinking about what his questions would do to her.  She just always seemed so strong and unemotional when she was around him.  Sometimes it was hard to remember that she was suffering too.

Angel moved around the table to her side, and when she stood he pulled her into his arms.  The gesture was unpracticed and most definitely unwise, but something in him needed to comfort her, to wipe away her pain.  She fought him for a moment, tiny hands raining ineffective blows on his chest, but misery overwhelmed her, and before long she had given up all pretense of proud independence.  Suddenly she was just a small, injured girl who cried in his arms, the salty tears staining his shirt and cutting at his heart.

"Sweet Willow," he groaned, the nickname that Angelus often called her slipping out by accident.  She stiffened in his arms.  "I wish I could be him for you," he whispered, his hand reaching out to run down her red hair, the movements soft and gentle.

'I wish you could too,' she thought.  Willow refused to say the words aloud though; it wasn't fair to Angel.  He was a good person, trying to make a difficult situation just a bit better, and for that she would always be grateful to him.  But she knew that he hated the things he did when he was Angelus, and as happy as it would make her, she could not wish that on him.

"Thank you, Angel," she said, her voice sounding a little clearer, a little more under control.  Her words made it clear that she saw him for who he was; Angel, and not the demon.  He was grateful that she could make the distinction.

He nodded to her, releasing her and returning to the chair he had occupied earlier.  Willow sat as well, feeling suddenly shy.  He had seen her at her best, and at her worst, and everywhere in between.  What did you say to someone who had seen so much, yet allowed you no glimpse into his own psyche?

"There's something else," Angel told her, his eyes meeting hers and holding them.  "Something I haven't told Buffy yet."

She cocked her head slightly, her curiosity burning in her eyes, coupled with wariness.  "What is it?"

"I'm leaving Sunnydale.  Moving, to L.A."

The words hit her like a slap in the face, her eyes closing quickly to hide the emotions that she knew they would betray.  Even as her heart broke just a little bit more, her intellect analyzed his decision and found it to be a good one.  Things were too complicated here.  Buffy would continue to pursue him, and he would be forced to come into contact with her time after time, whenever something new and evil slunk into town.  And then there was the confusion and uncertainty of their own relationship, or rather their non-relationship.  A friendship would be difficult to build after everything that had happened, and even if it were possible, there would always be that tension between them.  He would always see that longing in her eyes, would always know she was wishing he were somebody else.  And she would always look for little glimpses of Angelus in everything he did, waiting and hoping and fearing the day when his control would crack, and the demon would come out to play again.

"I understand," she told him, opening her eyes and showing him the acceptance and understanding that lie hidden in their depths.

"Thank you, Willow.  You've been-well, more than I deserved."  A far better person than he ever had a right to expect, Angel acknowledged.  He only wished that when he told Buffy, things would go half this well.  But deep down inside, he knew they wouldn't.

Part 31

Buffy did not take the news of Angel's imminent departure well.  She cried, she raged, she screamed, and in the end she even begged.  But ultimately, she lost.

Angel needed to leave and he knew it.  Staying was just too dangerous.  Buffy might never realize it, but in a very real way he was saving her life.  Hers, and Willow's.  And although he despaired at the thought of being alone again, he knew that it was the only way to escape the pitfalls of life in Sunnydale.

Early one evening about a week later, everything he owned packed up in a large rented pickup, Angel said his good-byes.  The library was filled with those awaiting his departure.  Some were ecstatic; Giles and Xander in particular made no bones about the fact that they were happy to see him go.  Others had mixed feelings.  And then there were Willow and Buffy.

"Angel, it's not too late to change your mind," Buffy whispered in his ear as he gave her a friendly hug.  They were just friends now.  Sometimes he wondered if they were even that anymore.  In recent days he had noticed a coldness to her, a manipulative quality to most everything she did and said.  Had it always been there?  Had he just been so blinded by his obsession with her that he had failed to notice?  He didn't know.

He pushed her away slightly, grimacing at the tears she allowed to flow from her eyes.  Tears, even hers, would not dissuade him.  His choice was made; now he needed to follow through.

"Good luck, Buffy," he told her seriously.  "I know you'll do fine without me.  You have your friends, your Watcher, the Council; everyone is dedicated to helping you. And if you ever need my help, really need it, I'm just a few hours away."

She pulled him back to her, her lips aiming for his mouth.  He turned his head to the side so that they connected with his cheek instead, and she had to be content with that.

After a second he disentangled himself from her arms and walked to Willow, where she stood next to Xander and Jenny.  "Willow," he said softly, a charge flowing through his body as her eyes met his.  She crossed the distance between them and felt his arm close around her, holding her lightly.  "Forgive me?" he whispered into her ear, smiling as he felt her nod her head into his shoulder.

They separated, and he headed for the door, wishing to leave without looking back.  He wanted to remember them like this: together, united, leaning on each other to get through the rough times.  He might not be a part of 'them' anymore, but he still wished them well.

"Good-bye," he called over his shoulder, leaving the library and heading out into the night.

Willow's body sagged slightly as his final words reached her, and then the swinging library doors were all that remained of his presence.  It was relief, she told herself.  She was relieved that his particular complication to her life was gone.  But she couldn't help but feel sad that her last connection to Angelus was gone as well.  He wasn't Angelus, and she had almost come to grips with that fact.  She no longer jumped when she heard his voice; her heartbeat no longer betrayed her when she saw him.

But he had been all she had left of Angelus, and it hurt to know that now she was losing that as well.  A small part of her longed to run after him, to beg him to take her to Los Angeles, to promise anything as long as it would mean that she could still see him.

But it was impossible.  And even if it hadn't been, she still would not have been happy.  It was Angelus she craved, and Angel would always be a pale substitute.

With a sigh, she tracked down Jenny and Giles who were talking earnestly in Giles' office.  They broke off suddenly when they saw her, their attention focused entirely on her.  She got the uncomfortable sensation that perhaps she had been the subject of their conversation, but refused to let that bother her.

"I think I'm going to go home," she told them, her voice weary and nervous. "If you don't have anything for me to do, that is?" Her tone turned the words into a question.

"No, there is nothing pressing at the moment.  I think we can carry on without you," Giles told her with a small smile.

"I'll drive you home," Jenny promised, grabbing her purse and keys and giving Giles a brief hug.  "See if you can keep Buffy away from her for tonight," she whispered as she held him, hoping to make Willow's evening a little easier.  Every inch of the redhead's face told Jenny that the girl was near the edge, and barely holding herself together.  A late night visit by a weepy slayer was the last thing she needed.

Somehow Willow wasn't surprised an hour later when she heard the knock on her door.  It was the downstairs door, though.  That was different.

It was late enough that she had shed her clothes, opting instead for another comfortable, oversized nightshirt.  The impatient knocking came again, and instead of taking the time to change, she merely headed down the stairs in what she was wearing.   He could deal.  After all, he had seen her in less.

A cautious look through the peephole confirmed her guess; it was Angel at the door.  She opened it slowly, taking in his uncertain expression, and his truck parked out in front of her parents' house.  "Hi," she offered, waving him into the living room.

"Hi," he answered awkwardly.  And then he gave her that look.  It was the one that made her want to think that Angel might be close enough to the one she wanted after all, even though she knew he wasn't.

"I couldn't go without seeing you," he finally admitted, a self-depricating smile playing along his lips.  He could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes, sparkling like facets of an emerald, and cursed himself for being weak.  He should not have come here; should have spared her this pain.

She came into his arms, her body pressed tightly against his as his arms surrounded her, holding her tightly.  He could feel her tears wetting the front of his shirt, soaking in and making the shirt stick uncomfortably to his chest.  "I'm sorry," they both said, then laughed at their timing.

He pulled her back a bit, brushing the tears from her cheek with a hand that shook only a little.  "You have nothing to be sorry for," he murmured, watching a shy smile play across your face.

"Neither do you, Angel."  And she said the words like she believed them.  That was one of the things he liked most about Willow, he acknowledged.  She saw Angel and Angelus as two separate creatures, and had always treated him as a friend, no matter what.  It made him wish...well, it made him wish lots of things.  Things that could never be.

He hesitated a moment, then spoke, surprising her with his words.  "He wants to say good-bye."

"He?  Angelus?  I-" She stopped uncertainly, her eyes wide with surprise.  "I don't-can we?  Would that be okay?" she asked softly, her eyes tragic with their wanting.

"I'll give him control, just for a moment.  He promises to behave, although I'm not sure exactly what that means to him."  Angel looked dubious, but decided to leave the choice up to her.

Only one word passed her lips, but the word made it clear how she felt.  "Please."

Angel retreated just a bit, letting the demon have limited control. He was reasonably sure he could wrest control back if needed, but he would have to watch carefully to make sure that Angelus didn't try anything.

From the way that Willow smiled the minute the demon took control, Angel knew that she could tell who she was looking at.  "Angelus," she whispered, the words almost reverent.

The demon looked at her curiously, startled when she threw herself into his arms.  He had not expected this sort of a greeting from her, although he had to admit that she had often managed to surprise him.  "Sweet Willow," he whispered back, gently touching his lips to her forehead in a chaste kiss.  Her skin warmed his lips, and he moved them to take her lips, teasing, touching, and tasting the skin of her cheek and chin along the way.

His kisses became more forceful and demanding, and she replied in kind.  Her hands reached up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as if trying to hold him there forever.

They stood like that for a lifetime, or for a few minutes, it was hard to tell.  Finally he pulled back, sensing her need to breathe.  Her heart hammered in her chest, her lovely chest that rose and fell quickly as she sucked in much-needed air.

"I'll miss you," she told him, the tears beginning to return as she sensed that their time was nearing an end.  Bit by bit she saw the soul return to his eyes, an amazing and indescribable feat.  And then she was looking at Angel, and Angelus was no more.

She stepped awkwardly out of the circle of his arms, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Good-bye, Willow," Angel said, the words seeming so final this time.  As she watched, he turned and opened the door, walking out of her life.

Silently she wished him well, even though it felt like a knife in her heart to do so.


Part 32

Five years later...

Willow sat at the computer, reveling in the quiet of a house not presently filled with noisy, rambunctious slayers-in-training, and trying hard to ignore all the little irritations of the day.  Sure, living with a couple dozen wanna-be slayers was not going to be easy, and she realized that.  But today there had been other annoyances far above and beyond that.

First there had been Buffy, begging her to go shopping, which she *so* did not want to do.  Wasn't it enough that she slayed demons, hacked databases, and still took care of Dawn during Buffy's frequent disappearances?  Did she have to do the 'best friend shopping' thing as well?  It was a sham and they both knew it.  Any friendship they might claim to have was merely a shadow of a relationship now rusty with disuse.  They still fought side by side, but friends?  They hadn't been that for a long time.  Maybe not ever.

The next contestant in the 'irritate the hell out of Willow' game had been Xander.  He had dropped by the house today, Buffy's house, and proceeded to eat any and all food-type substances that weren't nailed down or growing mold.  She knew that Buffy and Dawn would be annoyed if they came home with their charges and there was nothing to snack on; the girls went through food like it was air: a substance available in unlimited supply that was easily replaceable.  So Willow had had to go to the store to get extra food, when all she had really wanted to do was stay at home and read one of the books she had received from Giles and Jenny, who were taking a brief honeymoon in England, as they looked for yet more young potential Slayers.

And then, to top it all off, Spike had developed a strange fascination with the tattoo on her hip, and had demanded she show it to him.  They had been in the Magic Box, customers everywhere turning to stare at them when he made his demand.  She had refused uncategorically.  No public stripping.  It was very much a 'Willow' policy.  When demanding hadn't worked, Spike tried begging and pleading, and from there he had moved on to taunting and snarling.  Finally growing sick of his tantrum, she had pulled him into the storeroom, dipped her pants down just a bit, and shown him the small moon on her upper hip.

They had gotten the tattoos together, she and Tara.  Tara had gotten the sunshine, which was fitting, because to Willow she had been everything good and light and pure in life.  Willow had chosen the moon, for its timelessness and mysterious nature.  The two tattoos had complemented each other, as had the two women.  Until....

No, she refused to let her thoughts drift in that direction.  She was trying hard to get her life back together after everything that had happened last year.  Dwelling on the past, and actions she couldn't change, would not help her get back on track.

It was just so hard, that's all.  The others had no idea how difficult it was to resist the lure of the magic that called to her constantly.  They had no idea how, even now, every cell in her body longed to feel the sparkle and the thrum of magic running through her veins.  Oh, Jenny and Giles had an idea, a shadow of a whisper of an idea, but it wasn't the same.  They had never possessed the same level of power as she had.  And they had never lost the person they loved most in the world to a careless bullet shot by a stupid, vicious, greedy young man.

The image of Warren forced itself into her mind, skinless and screaming as she destroyed him, her mind forcing him to remain conscious even as his skin was flayed from his body.  As hard as she tried, she couldn't feel sorry for what she had done, and that scared her.  Part of recovering was supposed to be admitting what you had done was wrong, and while in her mind she knew it was wrong, her heart would never agree.

She had lost two loves in her young life.  There had been nobody to blame for Angelus' disappearance except for herself.  But when Tara died it had been different. Warren had been there, his actions the direct cause of Tara's death, so the blame was laid squarely on his shoulders.

Tara had been such an unexpected gift in her life.  Willow had never imagined she could fall in love again.  After Angel had left for L.A., she had hardened her heart and refused what few romantic offers came her way.  There had been Oz, and she thought for a while that maybe they could have had something, but the icy cold fear in her heart never allowed her to see him as more than a friend.

And then she had met Tara...

Tara, with her sweet smile and soft lips, and a heart as big as the world. Tara and her love had snuck up on Willow, worming their way below her radar and burrowing into her heart before she had even been aware of it.  One day the blonde was just there, as if she always had been, and always should be.

She was the antithesis of Angelus; she was soft where he had been hard, a light to his darkness, a smile to his frown.  And yet Willow had fallen for her anyway.  Maybe it was because she was so completely different from him that Willow was had been able to allow herself to feel something so strong.

Not everything had been perfect between them; there had been problems, not the least of which had been Willow's magic use and abuse.  But towards the end, once Willow had proven that she could stop using magic, that she could be trusted again, Tara had begun to forgive her and they had started the long process of rebuilding their relationship.

Until the day-

The sharp ringing of the phone interrupted Willow's musings.  The call was certain to be for Buffy; they were always for Buffy.  The blonde Slayer had a multitude of men chasing after her, and this was sure to be another of them.  But just in case...

She leaned over, picking up the phone on the third ring and brushing aside her long red locks so she could bring the receiver to her ear.  "Hello?"

"Willow?" came an excited voice from the other end.  The voice sounded familiar, in the odd way that a voice did when you heard it without any context.  Then the answer came to her.  Cordelia.

The ex-cheerleader had dumped Xander in their senior year, and had continued to make Willow's life miserable until graduation.   The brunette had decided to leave the town full of 'shopping impaired fashion victims,' as she so generously dubbed them, and had headed for L.A.  They had visited briefly when Willow had gone to L.A. to tell Angel of Buffy's latest death, but other than that there had been no communication between them.  Until now.

"Cordelia," she greeted coolly, wondering what in the world the other woman could possibly want from her.  There seemed to be a nervous tension in her voice that made Willow certain that she wanted something.  It was just a matter of figuring out what.

"Hi, um, yeah."  She paused a minute, as if she was not sure what to say next.  "So enough of the pleasantries, is Giles there?  Or Ms. Callendar?  I tried at their little shop, but some rude woman brushed me off and told me that if I wasn't going to buy anything, she wasn't going to take a message for me."

Willow had to smile at that.  Anya might be a little blunt, and even quite rude at times, but she had the unerring ability to tick off the people that Willow disliked, and for that the redhead would always be fond of her.

"They're on their honeymoon.  In England."  It had taken them a lot longer than Willow had expected to get married, but considering Giles' stuffy British manner, and the frantic pace of life on the hellmouth, she supposed that it took exactly as long as it should have.

"Okay, well, I guess that's a bust then." Willow heard a muffled sound, as if Cordelia had put her hand over the phone and then spoke to someone.  "Okay, gotta go, nice talking, blah, blah, blah."

Again with the muffled sound, and then someone else grabbed the phone.  Willow sighed impatiently, longing to get back to whatever it was she had been doing.  Okay, she reasoned, maybe she hadn't actually been doing *anything*, but nothing was still more interesting than being insulted by Cordelia.  Just like old times, in a hellish sort of way.

"Ms. Rosenberg?" came the cool, precise tones, just as she had been about to hang up the phone.  Wesley.  Curiosity sparked inside her, and despite her earlier decision to hang up, she held on a bit longer, moving the phone to her other hand and cradling it against her ear.

"Yes, Mr. Wyndham-Price?" she asked mockingly, as she copied his stuffy tones and formal address.  "So good to hear from you."  She suppressed a grin, wondering if he would even get the joke, and feeling a little mean for making it at his expense.  But he was just so unbelievably stiff sometimes that it was easy to convince herself that he deserved it.

"I was wondering if-," a pause, as he shushed someone nearby, probably Cordelia.  He started again.  "Giles mentioned that you had dabbled a bit in the arts," he began again, and Willow marveled that not a single 'ah' or 'well' or 'you see' had peppered the sentence.  Perhaps he was becoming a bit more Americanized she thought, although she would not say the words aloud for fear of offending him.

"Yes, I've been known to dabble a bit," she agreed with a wry grin.  Apparently he hadn't heard the story of how her 'dabbling' had almost ended the world.  It was strangely refreshing to know that there was someone who didn't know about *that* Willow; someone who still saw her as the slightly geeky girl who followed the rules and didn't cause apocalypses.

He cleared his throat, a nervous gesture, she was sure.  Willow waited curiously for his next words.  "You see, there has been a bit of a situation here in L.A."  Ah, he had used 'you see.'  That meant something, she was sure of it.  Her mind played with the jigsaw puzzle that was the information he had given her thus far, but there were too many pieces missing for her to make any sense of the picture.

"A situation," she repeated, her voice inviting his confidence.

"Ah, well, you see," uh oh, she thought, this was going to be bad.

There was the sound of a struggle, and then Cordelia's caustic voice came back on the line.  "What mister fearless demon hunter here is trying to say," she drawled sarcastically, "is that Angelus is loose, and we need someone to stuff him back into his little box."

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