Paring: Willow / Angel(us)
Rating: R-NC17
Email: Scoobysweetangel@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: If I owned Angel or Spike I'd be busy with them at the moment instead of writing this. Also I own nothing BTVS or AI related. Joss is a God. I'm not making any money off this. Don't sue the poor white girl K.
Spoilers: None
Warning: Character Deaths and Abuse in the beggining.
Summary: What would happen to Willow if she lost everything and everyone she ever loved? Who would help her....
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~PROLOGUE~
She didn't know what to think anymore. What would it matter if she were dead, would anyone notice, or care when they did. She kept pondering her questions but never asked them aloud. No, that would be worthless. Useless. Careless even.
She didn't care about life much anymore. She had to many scars on her tender body , to many violated emotions to care. What had he done to her. Why? None of her friends noticed you know, they went about there daily business like everything was fine. And in all honestly they thought it was. Was it her shy attitude before? Was it that they were that dim inside? or maybe she was right in her first conclusion. They didn't care.
She had been soaking in the tub for over 2 hour's already, her skin was pruned and the water was deathly cold by now. She didn't care this was her escape from the world. The longer she stayed the better. The soft smell of Jasmine and Lavender filled the room and the light was off. Only the reminiscence of candles lit the small area. She was sitting in a small oval tub the walls were cracked and old. The once lavish mirror above the two person sink was broken. The pieces that shattered to the ground still lay there. She never bothered to clean it up sense the last time OHe' was mad at her.
What was wrong with her? what had she don?. Why did she anger him? She didn't mean to, it wasn't his fault. The more she thought about it the more she realized how wrong she was. That it was his fault, all his fault, The scars, The blood, The pain, The hate he radiated was not her cause, but his alone. But as usual she just sat in the tub and decided to do nothing about it.
She was to week inside, emotionally and physically drained. And non of her friends had noticed. Her skin was paler now almost transparent, you could see the blue and purple veins all over. Her skin was so thin, that if you looked close enough, you could see the small amount of precious liquid they still held run through her body at an agonizingly slow pace.
Not even Vampires cared to feed from her as she walked the dark streets. She tried many times to lure them, have them feed from her. Kill her. Put her into the bliss of silent darkness. But they wouldn't. Sense when did the un-dead care about who they ate? was she that disgusting to look at, that even her blood was distasteful. Or was it that she didn't have any left in her small frail body?
She never talked anymore. She used to be the smart one, the one that could figure any problem out, run circles around her teachers in all her classes. But she didn't feel that way anymore. In fact school didn't matter, she never went once anymore after graduation summer. Only to the library when her friends desperately needed something from her. And when she would show up, he would be there. Waiting to walk her home. Waiting to cause more damage to a already unbearable situation.
She was losing her mind slowly. She was numb to the physical pain now, and to the ignorance of her friends. Every night there was a new scar on her body and sometimes if she was lucky , it was small. Her mind was no longer deep in thoughts every moment. She never rationalized like she used to in situations, in fact all her thought had seemed to vanish. All she did now was act. Act on others impulses. Others wishes. Others demands.
Sunny hell was soon living up to its name. And hers was soon meaning nothing. all the willpower, all the fight, all the passion and fire in her eyes. Gone. her emotions were no longer distinguishable. nothing crossed her face anymore. not rage, hate, anger, pain, lust, not admiration, infatuation, enthusiasm, determination, not intelligence, or realization, not fear or horror, not hope, faith, care nor love. Especially not love.
True she could fake them all quite well when needed. but her eyes never held the real emotion. If only they would look deep into them, her friends. Maybe if they tried they could see, she was no longer the strong, passionate, caring girl they once new. Inside. In fact she was empty and hallow and always lonely.
All the events that surrounded her never mattered anymore, year after year there meaning dwindled, and so, herself died slowly inside also, until this was all that was left of her. Nothing.
The graves read in order Faith Amber Quills. So that was her real name? she thought to herself silently, as she read the next faded head stone. Anyanka Harris, that wasn't her real last name, but they needed one to inscribe on the head stone, and Xander thought that would be best. In all irony his was next Alexander Harris, then Oz Green, Rupert Giles, Buffy Ann Summers, Jenny Calendar, Joyce Summers, Cordelia Chase, Jessie Browns, Ira Rosenberg, Sheila Rosenberg, she read each one aloud as she traced a finger over each name, no longer effected by the emotion pain, she just mindlessly kept on reading.
Riley Finn, Sam Finn, Charles Gunn, Robin Wood, Dawn Summers, Tara MaClay, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. In all her shame she even took the time when she cared to bury the ashes of a few enemies that she considered friends, the more she thought about it. And had headstones made for them, she told the burial service that they were cremated but she had changed her mind.
The last three headstones read. William Bloody, Drusilla Bloody, she couldn't help it she found the last name suiting for both of them. And as she traced the the last headstone with her nimble finger she felt sorrow in her hollow-ness, the first real emotion, though small and not noticed to her she whispered the name on the last headstone. Harmony Veils.
Oh almost forgot. There was one more person she lost but he doesn't have a headstone, or any ashes to go along with it. In fact wasn't he the cause of her state now? No she couldn't blame it on him, he didn't cause this, none of them did. In fact she wished she still had them or at least him. But that was practically impossible, he was in hell, Buffy sent him there, the same night she lost all her friends, enemies and family. Everything and anyone she ever held dear, or feared. Yep, she lost it all. She could even settle for Angelus to come back. But no. Angel he was in hell.
And oh how she missed them all dearly.
But now it was time to go home. Back to reality . Back to her tub. Back to her horror; to her nightmare. The excuse for her life that no longer effected her, she new she should be terrified, scared, paranoid. But for some odd reason she wasn't. She stepped out of the rusty tub and rapped her course frame in a soft fluffy towel. leaving her thoughts behind she entered the world that she now new. With not even a flicker of emotion in her once green eyes. Not even a flinch. This was her life now. And this is how she was condemned to live.
Forever.
~Part: 1~ Haunting Past
She never spoke. Not even when he demanded it, it wouldn't do anything. It meant nothing only pure pleasure to him, he rejoiced when she would scream, cry, and attempt to fight. It was over before it even began. She never even made a sound, not anymore. She took the pain. Took the hate, and every night fell asleep. Alone.
The bed was soft, and very silky. The pillows always fluffed up, and the comforters warm. But the bed was never welcoming. No peace. No rest. Even in her dreams her mind replays how they all died. And how she came to be nothing, not even a shadow.
It was dark, smoky, scary. Every corner, every dim lighted area held a terror, just waiting, stalking, prowling. Angel used to tell her it was nothing, just her own imagination. But the cold, old mansion was hell just waiting to happen. She felt it. New it. Saw it even. No one ever listened though, why would they? She was just little old hacker Willow, that did all the research. Like she new what it was like to feel the presence of a nonexistent demon.
Of course, she took Buffy's advice to go home and sleep. Giles even drove her home in his excuse of a car. That was one fatal mistake she'll always remember. When she left, Darla cast a small spell that retracted Angels soul. And what do you know, all hell breaks loose. How Darla was even alive at the time fazed her then, but not now. It doesn't matter now, its not retractable.
Angelus evidently ended up killing Xander and Anya before anyone even noticed. Tara was next, she was always shy and vulnerable, used it against her. Cordelia didn't even know what hit her. literally. Gunn and Wes well they were next of course, only after they stumbled over the bodies. It was a clever trap and, addictive-ly accurate. Harmony waked in at the wrong moment looking for Spike, when he came into the room after her calling, the curtains fell. coincidence? probably not. How I sorted the dust, I can't remember. Before Buffy could figure out what had been happening in the mansion it was too late. Faith was hung from the chandelier, her throat ripped out and the blood dripping in a rhythmic melody.
She never looked behind her, understandable, but deathly fatal. In one swift movement every bone in her neck broke. Breaking the silence of the cold, murderous room. Guess Angelus got bored of the mind games with her. Oh well, it's too late to ponder Owhat ifs' now. Riley and Sam, Well I'm not sure how they died, or even if they were there at the time, it did take me 3 days to find the rotting corpses and blown dust. More'en likely hunted them down or called them. Who knows? to late anyway. As for Drusilla, well Angelus must have been fed up with Miss Edith. she was lying next to a pile of dust, which I assumed was Dru. As for everyone else, I don't know details, but there was some well placed scattered body parts. Then Angelus was sent to hell, by get this, Buffy's soul. Interesting kinda.
So after I stumble on all this, I just sit there, I was eventually drained of all body fluids. I feel asleep right by the open door to the living room. Guarded or Haunted by the old rotting bodies I don't know. But I never got a chance to find out, I woke up in a dark room. I didn't seem to care if I stayed or not, obviously because I didn't move or try to even. My capture thought the same, Who he is exactly I don't know. What I do know is there one of Darla's minion humans, that routinely helped Giles in research. Some connection of his gone wrong.
He was so kind, and caring. Or I thought he was till now. Now he's just ruthless and egotistical. Lets leave out the details. Like it would matter anyway, as if it would change anything, but lets just leave it at that.
How I even made it this far to begin with is a miracle in itself. That is if miracles exist. How can they? I have no friends, no family. Oh I left that part out huh oh well, see it started when I woke up in the morning I couldn't find my parents, unusual, no not really. They always went away, without telling there one and only daughter where, or how to reach them. It seems though this one was not a business trip, because they never came back. Ever.
Too late to ponder what Angelus moreOen likely did to them. Wouldn't make much of a difference anyway. She's there now, and from the looks of it, doesn't have the strength or even the will to try. Where would she go anyway, home? she doesn't even have a home but this run down shack and the only family she's known for awhile now is a couple of deep scars and routine beatings. At least I know they are always going to come. Always be there.
She used to wonder why she even took the abuse mentally and physically. Sexually. Well before she lost all emotion in her heart, eyes, and soul. Willow came to a conclusion to take all the beatings and scars, A couple actually see, If you bleed and hurt you know your still alive, and if insults reach you, then you know your not insane. Now though, she could question her sanity.
With her body so frail, and transparent. It seemed that at any moment the slightest breeze would knock her into pieces. Much less the next form of abuse. That OHe' had in store for that night.
It seemed like to anyone around her, her world was crumbling from the inside out, but she still seemed to be holding on. To what ? Who knew. But she was alive. Barely, but alive. Then he came back into her life, the one that caused all of this, No that wouldn't be fair, he didn't cause any of it. Angelus did, Not Angel, Angelus. Two different personalities in the same body, one guilt ridden, the other a precise blood killer.
Could she trust either one, Well one maybe, like she would care if Angelus waltzed right back into her life anyway. Maybe then she'd be able to join her friends and family in the bliss of death. Maybe then she wouldn't need to worry about pain, or the next day. Maybe.
But now there he is cradling her shaken broken body, Away from her Ohome'. Why he would bother looking for her is one thing. Why he would care is another. Why he is even here when he is supposed to be in hell is a question all in its own. All to be answered in good time. But first one question needed to be answered now.
"A-Angelus?" Willows voice was scratchy sense she barely ever used it to talk. Ever. She no longer even used it to scream, seeing as she was numb to the pain. That happens to a person after awhile. You feel nothing anymore.
"No Willow, Angel"
"OK"
~Part: 2~ Hopeful Beginnings
"Are you feeling better Willow, can I get you anything?"
She just shook her head and played her piano, took her only 3 months to learn how to play, 2 weeks after Angel got her out of town and into his new home, she saw the Grand Piano, and just sat down to learn the keys. Played day in and day out her only form of expression besides sleeping, eating, and her Lavender bath. If she wasn't playing the piano she was in the bath or on their bed.
"Are you sure Willow, I mean, you aren't hungry at all?"
Another head shake and that was all he ever got, he learned her facial expressions well, she still never showed many emotions in her eyes, from what Angels vampire senses told him she had only 3 and they were very mild. Contentment, Joy, and Worry. Joy almost never showed through in fact, she only smiled twice the entire time. And he was blessed to even receive that. Not that he deserved it by all means, he should walk out and meet sunrise for what he did. But that would take away the last thing she held close. The only thing.
She never talked anymore. She could, not that she couldn't. It was just she never chose to. She played the piano and that was the only expression of words she ever got close to.
She would never shy away or flinch when he sat down next to her on the bench. He would watch her delicate fingers forever at a time it seemed. Then when she was done with the song she would place her cold hand over his equally cold, and guide his fingers to the right keys. He learned multiple songs that way so far.
But there were times he missed her voice; her soft comforting voice. The shy, but strong woman he knew before. Before she lost everything. Now all she had left really was him. If she didn't seem to need him so much, he would stake himself right then and there.
But she clung to him. One time he was going to walk out into the night. Just days after he bought her the small one bedroom apartment. She ran and clung to him silently crying that in itself told him how much she needed him to stay.
And when they sleep in the bed she had to be cuddled, know that he was truly there, afraid that at any second the only last thing she cared for would disappear forever. Again. The only person she wanted to know, the only one able to eventually bring back the fire to the red head. And he had an eternity to help her. And he would.
"Well then Ill just go take a shower, and go to bed then, If you need me Willow, you know were to find me"
A small nod and a look from her with a tint of a small smile on her lips told him all he needed to know. Later that night as usual his small fragile red head climbed into bed, with her blue silk lamb P.J.'s seeking his embrace. Purely Platonic of course. It was her only means of comfort and reassurance. And she needed it. Wanted it.
~Part: 3~ Healing
"Willow, Im going out to get some more...food" Angel's only response was the tune of her latest song. He sometimes wished she would say something, acknowledge the fact that he had said something. But he knew that she had, so he didn't push it. "Ill be back in a little while, Do you want anything? " He was greeted with a small pause in the song. But nothing more. So he left.
*mmmmm mmm um mmmm, mmiimm mum aummmua* The sound reverberated thru her mind, along with the song. She new the words but didn't want to sing, so she hummed the same tune in her head. She had spoken four words since that night he found her. Angelus, Ok, Please, and Can't. And that was all she spoke.
When she saw the piano she couldn't believe it. It was the only thing that captured her attention, she played for hours on end. It was her escape. Her second friend. She felt a connection to it. Every time her fingers glided over the porcelain keys, she felt like she was flying. with no worries. No pain. No memories.
At night she needed him to hold her. Caress her. let her know that this wasn't just a dream. That she wasn't trapped with OHim'. That the broken glass on the ground that fateful night had never existed. She needed to know constantly that Angel was real. That's why it tore her up one night to see him just starting to walk out saying nothing about if he would come back. Quickly, she found herself on her knees clinging to his waist, as shudders wracked her body. That's the day she said her other two words. "Can't....Please"
She loved him more than anything. Loves him more than anything. After all, he is her everything. The only thing she has left.
At night she can see his tortured eyes. Pleading with her to talk to him. Tell him. She never did. He tried to stay anti broody, for her sake. Never wanting to dampen a already sickening emotion filling the home. Home. Her home. His Home. There Home. A Home.
Getting up from the piano she made her way to the bathroom. Not finding Lavender in the small surrounding, she made her way down to there bedroom. She never went anywhere else in the house. Except for the living room, bathroom, and bedroom. But she noticed a small door in the hall. Of course she had seen it plenty of times before this, only now she noticed it. Something about it now trapped her. Beckoned her.
Slowly opening the door, and pushing inside, she noticed it had a red reclining chair next to a old desk. The rest of the room was full of books. So many. She drew in a sharp breath. No windows, just the light from the small desk lamp filled the room. She felt like a trespasser. But she couldn't stop herself either. Drawn. Called. Needed.
She just sat in the chair. Reveling in its Cumfyness. Its security. She felt safe. Only two things ever made her feel this safe before. Her piano. Angel. But this just enveloped her. The room. The books. The chair. Then she noticed it. A small dust covered book. Between the desk and the chair.
Gently opening it. She was greeted with parchment. Charcoal pictures. His Escape. Or Torture. The first few drawings unnerved her. Her friends dead faces. The look in there eyes was dead. Some were just the faces others were the bodies. The detail made her hyperventilate at the memories. Some were happy. The group. Others were of old times. Dru, Spike, Darla standing together. Some were of them asleep. They all seemed to be miss matched. In no order.
Then herself. Sleeping. Playing the piano. The day she was broken. Her eyes. Her eyes terrified her. Did they look like that? Did she look like that? One was of her and Buffy. Looking so happy, she looked so full of life. Next to it was one of her when she first stepped foot in the apartment. Empty looking.
Then the last one she dared looked at. Had all the tomb stones. Names. Grass. Flowers.
They not only held the images. But emotion. The exact emotion of that moment. Down to the detail of the soul. You could feel it radiate off the picture. It was like you were living that moment.
For the first time in too many years, she cried. She let the tears fall. Not caring if splashed marks landed on the drawings. The pain hit her full force. The past. The torment. The hate. The anger. The rage. The horror. The worry. The fear. The past hit her.
Angel walked in on her. Looking scared and worried. He couldn't find her. He wasn't greeted with a soft melody coming form the living room. The scent of Lavender didn't invade his senses. And she wasn't in the bedroom. He found her there. Crying silently. Holding her knees. Drawings sprawled around the floor at her feet.
"Oh, Willow" He rushed to comfort her. Hold her. Be there for her. They stayed like that all night. In the comfort of the room. He just held her as sleep overcame her. It was all he could do.
All he could think was....*the first step to healing*
~Part: 4~ Complications
The next day Willow woke up alone in the confines of there bed. She recalled last night. And for once she felt just a little bit better. Not so alone. Not so empty. Stretching like a cat, she stepped out of bed and into the bath. She still couldn't find her Lavender. But for the first time in years took a bath without it.
It was like her security blanket, and she was slowly growing out of it. Now she wasn't fully healed. Just on the first step. But it was one step more than before. Which was better then nothing at all in Angel's opinion.
He was cooking her breakfast. Eggs. Pancakes. Hash browns. Toast. The mix. Usually he would set her plate on top the piano, hoping she would eat some of it. But today he had a feeling she would eat at the table. Just a feeling.
When she walked into the dining room and sat down, he was speechless. He had a feeling, but never expected it to be right. This was her first time in the dining room and she loved the look of it. The small oak table and two chairs made it feel like their home. Just for them.
They never had visitors anyway. But she liked it. And the smell of the food. That's when she noticed she was hungry. Starving. She hadn't eaten a hole lot that past year. But now it felt like a ton of bricks had landed on her tummy. And it hurt.
"Food" She looked at Angel's face; his eyes looked like they were about to come out of their sockets. He quickly regained composure, and set down her plate along with a glass of milk. Five words total now. Five words. Five.
"Good morning Willow, are you feeling better?" He didn't want to move to fast with her. She was still fragile from last night in his opinion. And that scared him. Overjoyed him. Worried him. Comforted him. In return for his comment he received a smile. And this time it was hinting in her eyes. And he smiled, like an idiot, back.
"I take that as a yes" She nodded her head. Then proceeded to stuff her face in a very un-lady like manner. After breakfast was finished, Willow sat at her piano and for once, she didn't want to play. Not that she wasn't going to ever. But she didn't want to play. Angel was in the drawing room. She new this. So she went in search of him. Slowly pushing open the door and peeking her red head thru. Sure enough he was sitting. Reading.
He gave her a small look, he offered her to sit down on his lap. She quickly accepted. Holding her waist as she laid her head on his shoulder. He knew she wanted something. Just not what. "Willow, what do you need?"
She gave him a pleading look, then hung her head low. "Story". Six words. He was astonished. Her voice was cracked. It sounded like it would be painful to speak. No longer did she have the creamy voice of a 19 year old. But he had his hopes up to fix that. He pulled out a book of poems and began to read to her as she rested in his lap. She was surprised she loved listening to his voice. It seemed like the first time she heard it. Noticed it. Found comfort in it.
After he read half the book, Willow's eyes looked droopy. He smiled at her. She was beautiful and a very strong woman. He often wondered what she went through. When they first got the apartment, he tried to get her to talk to him. She wouldn't. Couldn't. It tore him up inside knowing he couldn't help her with her inner demons. Tortures. Memories. But he could help her recover little by little. He vowed never to leave her. Never to let her go. Never let her feel that alone again.
He felt the guilt everyday for what Angelus did. Killing her friends. Her life. Her. He hated knowing that this was partly his fault. Her eyes. Darla's minion. He killed him that night. When he found her. He just seemed to know were she was. That she needed him. Someone needed him.
She was a mess. Her hair was down to her back matted and frizzed. Her body was thin almost transparent. And he could barely hear a heartbeat. And the scars. The scars scared him more then anything. One was across her belly, it was welted up. He could only imagine what OHe' had done to her to cause that. On her back were whip lash marks. from her neck to her heals. some were more pronounced some were very faint. He noted that most of them were mad by bull whips. Her arms had laceration marks made by wire. Small slits were across her body. Some were fading. Some would always mar her body.
But she was still beautiful. Angelus wouldn't even scar a woman's body this bad. Well he would. But not one so beautiful. Angelus took care of his Othings'. He would have kept her as a servant. Concubine. Possibly would have made her a vampire. But Darla had different plans. Why she didn't want her dead was beyond him. Usually he was much worse then Darla when it came to torture. But they also thought the same about victims. What had she done?
It was too late to ponder the past now. He couldn't change it. Wished. Couldn't. Seeing that she was again asleep he took her to the room. Removed her clothing and placed her in a pair of boxers and a tank top. Then he headed to the shower. He made a mental note to purchase more lavender for Willow, got himself dressed, then slipped in next to her form.
He woke up later to her trashing sweat laden form. She was moaning, or screaming in her sleep. Quickly, he shook her back to reality. Her wide eyes stared around the room, trying to figure out were she was. Then she felt his hand on her hips, eyes looking at her. Worry etched on every feature of his face. She just looked at him. Running a hand down the side of his face, as if deciding he was real or not. Then she almost leapt into his arms. Crying. Sobbing. By the time she was done, Angel's shirt was soaked. She looked at his shirt then up to him with horror filled eyes. Noticing what she was worried about, Angel said, "Its ok, it can be washed." He added a small laugh then got serious.
"Want to tell me what happened?" As she laid on his now bare chest he stroked her hair. They had cut it short earlier that year and dyed it a bright red, to give it a healthier look. She just sat there staring at the wall, not acknowledging his question. "Well if you don't want to tell me, would you like to go for a walk?" That got her attention. She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Laughing a bit at this he added, "Don't worry it's dark." Her lips perched into a small Ooh' and she nodded. She hadn't been outside in a couple of months, and found herself eager to get out.
Jumping up and rushing to the drawers, she pulled on a small tank top in the color of blue and a pair of black jeans with her sneakers. Placing her hair in a sloppy pony tail she gave Angel a small smile, then walked to the door. Once outside she let the fresh air engulf her. Linking arms with Angel, they walked into a small park. To the unbeknownst eye they looked like a couple out for a midnight stroll. The good thing about Ireland was there were allot fewer vampires at night then on the Hellmouth.
~Part: 5~ Walking Contemplation's
She loved the air. The trees. The sounds. The grass and even the dirt. She missed it. Walking was doing wonders for her. She looked like a new born child just seeing the world. Eyes full of curiosity and wonder. She loved the cold air. It seemed alive. Beckoning. Watching. It made her feel that much more alive herself.
Angel watched her intently, watching her every move. He let her walk where she wanted, following her while holding her hand. The wind whispered portraits with her red hair. And the gravel sang as she walked. The tree's bowed to her as she passed. To him she was a queen that even mother nature worshiped. Why wouldn't she be? She lived through what one can only imagine. She survived torture. Kept her Sanity. Kept her Body. Kept her soul.
His demon, for once, agreed with his soul. It wasn't rattling it's cage. Whispering bittersweet evils into his ear. It was calm. Agreeing. She was an amazing creature. Would make a deadly Vampire. A spirited woman. A potential powerful demon. A goddess. A dark mistress. A loving person. A blood letting maiden. A passionate lover. A seductive animal. A forgiving lady. A vengeful predator. Though they were different reasons they were agreeing. Soul and Demon. A very rare occasion.
Willow was aware of Angel watching her as she walked. She felt as if his eyes could seal her from all evil. He was her Angel. Her salvation. Her memories still haunted her but were at bay when he was around. She hated to think about it. The past. She hated knowing that it happened to her. Hated knowing that the person that caused it is residing in the body of her protector. Hated it. Hate without a passion was said to be useless. Whoever said that didn't live her life.
She wanted to tell him. Talk to him. But it hurt. She was only on the first step. She knew she felt better. Just, not that much better. Every time she thought she might tell her past to him, it seemed like she was living it. Over and Over. Her never ending little demon. It had been along time since she had seen the stars. Without fear. Without awaiting darkness. Pain. The stars were now bright. They shone down as a guardian.
Walking past large old weeping Willow trees. Limber oaks. Angry Pines. She took the sensations from around her. She felt the wails of the mountains in the distance. The coldness of the water. The peace of the wind. The caress of the grass. The hope of the stones. The desperation of the dirt.
As she was walking she was lost in thought. As was Angel. Their thoughts were different, yet similar. Each worried about the other. Each had demons inside. Each needed the other. But not all thoughts were the same. She wanted to hide. He wanted to seek. She wanted to run. He wanted to walk. She wanted to scream. He wanted to speak. She was lost in her own world. He was lost in her. He wanted to help her. She wanted to let him. He wanted to comfort her. She needed him to. He wanted to end her pain. And she couldn't let him.
She was the first to notice the small wooden bench by the cliff. In fact , she hadn't noticed they walked so far until now. Giving Angel's hand a small tug. They sat at what seemed to be the perfect spot. Looking at the Ocean and Stars. The perfect serene setting. Anyone walking by would have mistaken them for newlyweds. They would have no idea of the inner turmoil each fought every day. They looked peaceful. Happy. Content. And most importantly each looked Alive.
Willow gazed up at the stars. She saw the never ending patterns that they made. Who cared about astrology when you could make your own chart of amazing creatures. She was happy. For once in a long time she smiled. A happy smile. A smile that met her eyes. It was the first time in a few years. But she didn't notice. Angel did. He couldn't help but think of the last time he saw that exact smile. It was when he first met the Scooby gang that he first saw it. She accepted him for what he was and could never be. She sought friendship in a demon. And paid dearly. The last time he saw that smile, she was leaving his mansion.
That smile had good and bad memories. He chose to remember the good. He smiled with her. For her. At her. He loved her when she smiled like this. Every time. The way it met her eyes begged you to smile also. She glowed. She shined. She was healing.
Willow averted her gaze to Angel, surprised to see his eyes meet hers. Yet comforted to know he was watching her. Her Angel. Hers. Forever. Could he really be hers forever? She would die. Wither away. Rot in her grave. And he, forever young. Forever a demon. Forever a friend. She couldn't become a demon herself she knew. She couldn't. Wouldn't. Would die first by her own hands than become a part of the race that caused her pain. Angel was an exception. The only exception. The other two exceptions were dead. In hell. Burning their price of sins.
The night was getting darker. More private. More secretive. Like a blanket. She basked in the silence. Deafening silence. She soaked in the Ocean's Melody. It reminded her of her piano. The music Soft. Rhythmic. Real. She was enjoying the peace. The peace of body and Soul. But her mind was abyss. Lost. Sunken into the never ending confusion. She was feeling emotions for the first time in years. She always blocked them out. Made herself numb. Untouchable. But now she was beginning to feel. And she loved it. But her mind was unused to them. Creating chaos.
But Angel anchored that chaos. Fixed it. Tended to it. Sent it on its way. He would never tell her much about his past. His old life. His other half. No she new well of what he was like. But wanted to know about his life. What he saw. What he witnessed. Before this all started, she often asked his help on History Essays. Asked his Opinion. So she could get an insider's point of view. She loved hearing it, even if it was short and to the point.
Sometimes she wished she could have lived through such times. Seen it all. Been there, done that. In the literal sense. But she also wished she never would. Wanted to. But didn't. Catch 22. Double Edged Sword. She knew he was haunted by memories everyday. Just like her. Knew he felt the guilt of hundreds of years. Of lives lost. Tormented. She knew the craving of blood to be spilt. Knew the sensation of taking a life for pleasure. Knew the Darkness inside each person.
They both had inner demons. Both had issues. Problems. And both were helping each other. He needed her. She needed him. It was a bonding friendship. He was her family. Her Friend. Her mentor. Her protector. Her tormentor. She loved him dearly. But Physical Intimacy? She wasn't ready for that. She wasn't sure about Angel. His Soul would never leave his body again. A gift from OThe Powers That Be' to Willow. But she knew she wasn't ready to even risk her friendship with Angel. She needed him more then he would ever know.
She wanted to be touched again. Brought to the brink of ecstasy. To sweet abyss. To feel wanted. Loved. Beautiful still, even with the scars. But Angel made her feel wanted, loved, and beautiful. She didn't need him to prove it by him taking her to bed. She saw in the way he looked at her. Held her when she needed it most. Cared for her. She Cared for him deeply. Loved as a friend. Indefinitely.
The sun was growing nearer. Angel knew this. He wished he could stay in this spot with her as long as she wished. But they couldn't. It would cost him his life. And hers as well. If she ever lost him, she would die inside. Looking at her made him wonder. What was she thinking. Contemplating. Turing over in her mind. Her far off look was speaking volumes, yet nothing at all. Caressing her hand, he stood up, pulling a stunned Willow with him. Her look of surprise at the sudden movement made him laugh.
"We need to start heading back" She gave him a questioning look "Sun's coming up soon" Her face lit up at that. Then it fell. Angel couldn't be in the sun. Angel saw her happiness fade into shame. He understood being inside for 8 months, awake at all times of day and night. Would make anyone forget he was a vampire. The un-living. The walking dead.
"Sorry." Her words were small, but soft. Her voice was still hoarse and unused. But it was a spell to Angel's ears regardless. She had spoken again. He just smiled. He forgave her. He had to. He loved her.
The walk back was peaceful. But silent. Entering the house, Willow felt the endearing sleep hit her. But she was still energetic. Her face lit up with an idea. She ran to the living room, Leaving Angel standing in the hall with a questioning look. Willow started a fire in the fire place. Laid a blanket on the floor with two pillows. A comforter on the side waiting to be used. She then ran back to Angel the excitement in her eyes sparked his curiosity. He had gone to feed; when Willow found him in the kitchen he was, thankfully, finished. She dragged him into the living room, sat him on the blanket and laid down next to him.
Getting the hint, he laid down also and pulled the plush comforter over them. He then looked at her to find her starting at him. She smiled and snuggled up to him easily. "Story" her words were almost a whisper. But clear to the world.
"What story do you want me to tell you little one?"
"Past" Willow gave him a pleading gaze. Angel hated talking about his past. He even hated thinking about it. But for Willow? He might make an exception.
~Part: 6~ Whose History?
Willow was laughing full heartily now, a sound Angel had longed to hear since the day he found her. He couldn't help but smile, the sound of her rumbling voice was contagious. She was laughing so hard, holding her sides, and rolling. He had just told her the story of Spike and Angelus. How they had once turned down an alley to encounter a very powerful, pissed off witch. Now Angelus was not one to run from a challenge, and Spike was not one to run period, due to his cockiness. But they flew out of that ally at full vampire speed right passed Dru and Darla like nobody's business. Willow gave him a look that said OAngelus ran away? trying to beat Spike to the next continent? all because of a witch?'. Then the next thing you know she was laughing like no-tomorrow.
Angel's demon was roaring at Angel and the little red head that dared laugh at his expense. But looking back at it and looking at Willow's reaction did make that episode in his past seem extremely funny. Even to himself. Of course, back at their home at the time, Angelus and Spike denied any accusation of the sort when Dru and Darla confronted them about it.
Angel was also explaining about certain times in Italy, England, France, Germany, Britain, Portugal, Spain, Ireland, Denmark, Sweden, Norway and almost every other European country they visited. Ireland, England and France were some of the funnier ones. Angel told her about his human times as Angelus that were...less then moral. The time Spike told off "The Virgin Queen" of England, And then to spite her gave Mary the run for her money in the Royal Chamber. Also how Spike had mooned OThe Guards' for a good half the night making the most childish faces. Before killing one out of anger for them not moving. Even how Dru had climbed the Eiffel tower to "see the stars from above". Then ended up falling from the top in an attempt to fly, landing on a group of a kings army. They in turn, because she didn't die, considered her a witch. And how Darla, Angelus , and Spike had to carry Dru, running from the mobs. In Germany Darla had even slept with Hitler, in fact she was the one that gave him the idea for world domination to begin with.
Willow was alternating between laughing and intense listening. She was fascinated by Angel's memories from Angelus's past. It was so intriguing to learn about the places he'd seen the times he'd seen them, and all the major developments he had witnessed. Like the development of the T.V. and radio, plains and cars, The wars he had seen, like the War of Independence, W.W.I and W.W.II, Hitler, and The Cold War. He'd seen the Potato famine caused by England to Ireland first hand.
She loved having his opinion and his experiences because they differed so much from her old history classes. Angel even pointed out flaws in the history books that would never be fixed, but never the less were still flaws. Angel even went into how Angelus had met more than one Pope, Queens and Kings from different countries, and other historical figures such as Abe Lincoln himself. Of course he killed most of them. But he left that out.
Willow was tired, it was now ten in the afternoon, and they had been up all night. Laying next to Angel, she watched the fire burn down to ashes, then fell asleep in his embrace. For once in a long time her dreams didn't haunt her. In fact, they were very different.
Willow dreamt she was a vampire, running around with Angelus, Spike, Drusilla, and Darla. She experienced some of there triumphs, failures, and the more intimate parts of there time together. She loved the feeling of power she had. Loved the blood lust. Loved the pain and joy she could inflict at the same time. It made her feel strong, wanted and independent. When she woke up next to Angel's sleeping body, she took a minute to look at him. And Hard. He *Had* been that powerful. *Had* all thoughts cravings, and desires. The only reason that being a vampire at that time seemed to appeal to Willow was because she felt protected by herself. Had that been her past, she would never have gone through the torment she did because she would have been able to defend herself. Darla would have been like family to her. Her past would have been different.
She also despised her dream, she never wanted to hurt a living being for the sheer pleasure of torment. Torture and death. For the pleasure it could possibly bring to the demon. She new that her dream was just that. A dream. And also that she couldn't even grasp the concept of what it was like to be a demon. A vampire.
~Part: 7~ Hair is Not to be Mocked
Willow stretched and decided to go take a bath. She filled the tub with steaming hot water, added Bubbles and stepped in. The bathroom was luxurious to be humble about it. The tub was in the middle of the room, made of black marble. It had a step going around the tub for people to sit on and talk to you, if they so wished. It had its own Jacuzzi system, Massage system, and Water heater underneath, to keep the water in the tub warm for hours. The palm trees in the corners of the room made it homey and relaxing. There was even a wall sized mirror installed just for her. Angel had all this built For Her. And for himself, in the corner there was a Shower, octagon style with three different doors on separate sides. It even had a glass cabinet on the inside to hold the vampires showering stuff.
For the first time, Willow actually noticed the detail put into the room for her. Angel knew that before, the bathroom had been her escape from reality. She would sit there hours upon hours, just soaking in the tub. Angel would sometimes put on soft jazz right outside the door for her. He knew her bathroom needs at the time so went looking for this place in Ireland and had this bathroom made just for her.
Today it soothed her, but she didn't feel she needed it. They say laughter is the best medicine for anything. And if that theory were true she would have overdosed last night. She felt a smile on her face as she remembered some of the stories he had told her. She hadn't felt this good in forever it seemed like. And she was warming up to feeling like this more often.
Willow eventually pulled herself from the bath. She got herself dressed in mini fuzzy blue shorts and a white tank top. Checking to see if Angel was asleep still, she found that the living room had been cleaned up. Angel was in the kitchen with her breakfast on the table. She walked up to him and gave him a small hug. Which He returned, then began eating the eggs, toast and hash browns. It was only Five P.M. and in one more hour, her and Angel could hopefully go out again.
As Angel left her to get in the shower himself, she busied herself with the laundry of the house. She dusted, vacuumed, moped, and then sat down at her piano. She had not played in about two weeks. She felt she had betrayed her piano somewhat. So she started a simple melody. To her surprise words began to form on her lips as she gave the tune, a life of lyrics.
"Everything I do, I need.
I hope you know You're needed too,
You're my darkness,
You're the one that I see,
When you hold me I feel safe.
If you ever leave me I would break.
I hope you know how much I love you.
I never want you to leave,
Because everything I do, you need.
You're my Sunshine,
You're my hope, my life.
You're my everything
You're my life......."
Angel had stepped out of the room in just a pair of black sweats. He sat down on the couch with a towel over his shoulder, listening to her singing. Her voice was still a little scratchy from such a long time of being unused. But it was still soft and inviting. Angel didn't want her to stop on his behalf. So he used what she used to call years ago his Opoof-ness'. Poof and he was gone. Hidden.
"When you hold me at night,
If only you knew,
You're my darkness,
I feel all right,
When you care for me so,
I don't want to let go,
If you ever leave, I would die in my sleep.
Everything I feel,
If only you knew,
How My Heart owes everything to you.
You would be lost in its gratitude.
You're my Sunshine,
You're my hope, my life.
You're my everything
You're my life......."
As sappy as it would seem to anyone else, he was touched to know that she felt that safe with him. He already knew she needed him and loved him in her own Willowy way. But to hear her sing, and sing for him. About him. And for her needs also. It was a second step to healing, no doubt. Angel walked up behind her and kissed the top of her fiery locks. She jumped at the contact, evoking a smile from the Vampire. She wasn't going to be very talkative for a long time. It would take Progress. Work. Effort. But he has patience, and time.
Willow took in his messy wet hair and laughed. She had seen Angel plenty of times with wet hair. but it always looked perfect. This time it was messy. Angel's hair was a mess. It wasn't even towel dried. And to her that was hilarious. She even remembered from the past how his hair and face had been perfect always.
"Angel How do you shave?"
He just looked at her. Having no clue why she was laughing. But didn't care to much because she was laughing. Though he had a feeling she was laughing at him this time, instead of with him. And then his suspicions were confirmed. She pointed at his hair and in two short breaths in between laughing choked out "Your.....Its a Mess".
Taking the hint. He picked her up over his shoulder causing her to scream, pounding fists on his back. He didn't want to take it too far with her to fast. But his hair was not to be mocked.
He marched outside into the cold night. Then with a triumphant smile, tossed Willow into the freezing water of the fountain in the gardens outside. All with a Smile. Willow's face turned to shock. She was just sitting in the 3 ft deep water, with her mouth hanging open wide. It was cold. Very cold. Freezing even. She couldn't believe Angel had did that to her.
Angel was laughing so hard he didn't notice her jump up grab his arms and pull him in with her. His laughing stopped as he realized this little red headed woman, had pulled him a 250 year old Master Vampire into the water by surprise. He didn't feel the cold all that much. But still. It was now Angel's turn to wear a look of shock and pride. Willow just smiled. Got out of the fountain and walked back to the house. Leaving Angel. Outside. In the water. With even messier messed up hair.
~Part: 8~ Violating Freedom
After their little fiasco out in the public fountain. Willow couldn't help but feel a little less trapped in her world of hurt. It was definitely what she needed. If only vampire's photographed. She would have enjoyed having that Kodak moment. The look on the vampires face. And the Hair. It was almost too much for her.
Angel walked in soaked as ever. He made his way to their room and closed the door without even looking at Willow. Which only made the little red head silently laugh to herself more. She felt kind of bad, but the look on his face made her want to do it again. But eventually the bad feeling engulfed her so she whet to the kitchen in search of O+ blood. Angel finally resorted to the blood blank for human blood. It made him stronger and warmer, and she was positive it was much better tasting then a pig's blood.
She warmed the blood, placed it in a OYoda-shaped' cup she bought him when the first moved in. As she entered their bedroom, the blood splattered onto the wooden floor. Everything seemed to move in slow motion for her. Angel was nude. In front of her. And he looked as gorgeous as ever. She never really noticed before. But she did now. She immediately turned around mortified at what had happened. She never thought to knock, both of them usually changed in the bathroom. Bedroom was free roam. But that was more freedom than she needed to see.
Angel felt bad for her. Yet the smirk was obvious. Quickly dressing in black silk boxers, he gently touched his hands to her shoulders to turn her around. When she didn't budge he applied a little more force. When he finally did get her to face him, her head was down and he swore her chin would mold into her chest.
"Willow, It's ok, things like this our bound to happen to anyone."
Still not getting a response he pulled her into a hug, whispering soothing words into her ear. She really did feel bad about walking in on Angel. She felt like she had violated him in some way. And to find him handsome; made her feel that felt she had violated him even more. Angel let her go as she went to go take a bath. She needed to be alone, with her lavender and her bubbles. It was just something that she needed. Angel understood her turmoil. Virgin Willow as far as he was concerned.
He knew since he moved her here that she was fighting inner demons. The strongest being about love, and trust. And physical touch from anyone. The scars that marred her body were physical, torturing evidence, everyday for her. One that he noticed, started on her lower back, curved up her abdomen to graze her right lower breast. It was risen up slightly and a pinkish color. The only weapon that could have done such damage was a bull whip. Or a extremely fatal knife wound. He opted for the first. If a bull whip was used on her precious skin, the person that used it was talented in the art of torture. Like he had been. Was. Is.
He often wondered what could have been different. What if he hadn't been turned in the first place? What if he hadn't met Buffy? What if he hadn't known the Scoobies? What if he hadn't known Willow....?
They were all Owhat ifs' that he plagued himself with. That and the questions of what Willow had gone through. What torment and torture had she seen? When he found her she accepted death. Danced with it. Flirted with it. Graced it. And begged it to welcome her into it's dark embrace. Heaven or Hell. Either would have been fine. Just end it. Her eyes were dead. Her soul was dead. Her heart was dead. Her mind was dead.
It took along time to fix some of her more emotional problems. Getting her to let him touch her more adequately, like cradling her or hugging her. He was thrilled that she was starting to show healing, though her body would never catch up. But he wondered. The questions about what happened. Would he ever know?
He remembered the scene of when he found her perfectly. The blood red silk blankets and black pillows. The rose-wood furniture. The weapons laying around. And the blood, it was every wear. Splattered on walls. On the floor. On the bed. It was like they never cleaned it up. And he could smell the different ages of the dried blood to the wet. It was horrible. Everything seemed to go frame by frame. Snapped images in his mind. The smells. The textures. The images. Some more vivid then others, some missing completely.
Knives of all sizes and sharpness lay scattered. Chains in various places lay bolted to walls. Floors. Above the bed. Below it. On the ceiling. Crow bars, axes, hammers and pipes lay among the carpet. And blood letting sex toys were also found. Like a dildo with sharp spikes implanted in it. These were all things he knew were used for torturing Willow. His Willow.
Whips also hung neatly on the wall. From a riding crop style. To the nine tails. To the vicious Bull Whip. Various acids and bottles of other substances locked in cupboards. No doubt for burning. Or numbing. Or pain infliction of some sort.
It was devastating remembering this. His demon during his dreams, thought up various ways he could have used each and every instrument of destruction. And the mind games played on her. He could only imagine. His demon was proud of the young witch though. She didn't seem to completely break. Never seemed to lose her mind completely. She was strong. Worthy. Different. A challenge.
Angel never realized he was drawing the image out on paper. Only when Willow walked in did it register to him exactly what he was thinking of. He slammed the drawing book closed, and Willow knew he must have been drawing something horridly vivid. A self torture. Angel gave her a guilty look, knowing she knew.
She walked behind the chair, and placed her small hands on his neck, and began to massage his tense muscles. She urged him to lean forward with a slight push. He obliged. She continued her ministrations on the Vampire in front of her, until he was completely relaxed. Then Angel looked up into her eyes. They seemed so proud of herself. That her delicate hands could work wonders on dead tissue. Even if it was un-dead.
That's when Angel got the idea.
"Willow, can I draw you?" She gave him a startled look. Caught off guard. He had never asked that of her before. To draw her as she was now. In person. As a subject.
"Red, I want to capture you, right now, can I?" She cocked her head to the side contemplating this then smiled a sweet smile. She nodded a curt nod, and Angel nearly jumped for joy. Not expecting her to say yes, but for what reason he could not pin point.
He urged her to sit and wait in his large chair, as he left the room.
~Part: 9~ Sketching Souls
"Here, Lay here" Angel had placed a soft silk comforter of deep green color in the grass. It was night-time and he had candles to light the surrounding area. Willow noticed she was right in the middle of night blooming roses of all colors. Blues. Reds. Whites. Pinks. Oranges. It was actually quite a romantic setting.
The smell was overwhelming her. She was in a fuzzy soft purple robe that surrounded her small form like a dancers dress. Underneath she had a simple purple silk and lace night slip with spaghetti straps that stopped just above her knees. She knew, to any passerby that if they saw this, would think that Onaughty' things were about to pursue between lovers.
Angel had insisted she wore the night gown. She felt much less confident than him. It showed off large amounts of skin. Skin that was marred. Skin that was burned. Scarred. She squirmed a bit under his intense artist's gaze. He got up and slid the robe off for her. He knew she was uncomfortable. But he wanted her to see the beauty of her body. The beauty that he saw.
Regardless of the scars, burns, discoloration. Her body was remarkable. Not perfect. But Remarkable. To her, it reminded her of her helplessness and torment. To him, it represented her strength and determination. And to Angelus, it represented her darker side and lust for pain.
He wasn't doing this just for her. He needed it for himself. He wanted to draw images of her now. Not then. He wanted the house they lived in to captivate the paper. Not the room that had tormented her. He wanted her to see, and he wanted her to feel.
She sat down on the comforter and spread out slowly. She never focused her gaze on Angel as he began to sketch. The sound of pencil scratching paper was comforting. The breeze. The crickets, and the smell of the roses was encouraging to her.
The moon was out, and she thought of all her friends. The sadness pained her heart. Oz would be in wolf mode. Buffy and Faith would be slaying. She would have been doing homework with Tara. Xander and Anya would have been at the bronze. And Spike would be pleasing his Goddess. It was breaking her heart to think about it.
But she did notice that happiness filtered into her memories. She saw their smiling faces. Heard their laughter. It made her happy, knowing that they had lived, loved, danced, sung, and survived for as long as they had. Eventually she drifted into those memories. Leaving Angel her sleeping form among roses.
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