Author: A.j.

E-Mail: willowygrl@aol.com

Rating: PG

Summary: Willow and a ghostly Angel discover the true meaning of Christmas... Not. They relive a Greek myth.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel & Co. belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN and the WB Network. No copyright infringement intended.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~Part: 1~

"Angel?" Willow spun, trying to see where the voice was coming from.

"Don't be afraid, Willow, I'm here."

There was a flash of light near a stack of papers teetering on the edge of her night stand. It was the barest of movements and hardly registered in the small woman's perception. Flipping over, she confronted the disturbance.

Standing in front of her was... well, Angel. It wasnt *him* him, but it was. Sure, she could see right through him, but that was fine because if it had been the *real* Angel, well, Angelus, well, that would have just been bad. *This* was Angel though. *Angel* Angel. She thought.

"Angel?" Okay, forming a complete sentance was out of the picture. Maybe she could form something besides the person --well-- fine, *person* in front of her's name. She tried, she really did.

"Angel...?"

"Hello, Willow." The sexy baritone that belonged *solely* to that-- guy-- washed over her. Her mind couldn't take it.

Now Willow Rosenburg, despite her tactic of making calculated withdrawls, was *not* a weak person. No shrinking violet could have handled what she had over the past few years. Sure, Buffy had a lot to deal with. She was the Slayer. Thing was, Buffy got to beat up what pissed her off. Willow had been kidnapped, beaten, bruised, scared, enchanted, and nearly killed, what seemed like an infinite number of times over the last two years. Fact was, she was still recovering from the last time. She just couldn't take it anymore. She was tired, hurt and *really* iratable. Not to mention she could *really* use some juice.

Giving up, she slunk low in her bed. She wasn't really sure what she was giving up, though. Was she giving up on life? Love? The idiocies that interwove and became that which was the universe? God, what she wouldn't give for a break from this nightmare existance. She should be worrying about how high she scored on her finals or why Xander was being such a bone-head. She definitely *shouldn't* be worrying how long it would take her to regain the strength to stand or about her best friend who was missing after facing her ex-lover who lost his soul and had wanted her dead and the entire world entrenched in Hell. It just was not *FAIR*.

"Willow?"

Oh, God. He hadn't gone away. That soul her best friend's lover had lost? It appeared to be sitting right in front of her. No where near where it could be doing some *good.* MEN! Wait, didn't she return his soul!?

"Eyhhh." A pitiful mewling sound came from the back of her throat.

The see-through Angel's face tightened in concern. "You're hurt. I hurt you." It wasn't a question.

<I'm insane. I'm having a conversation -well, he's having one with me- with my best friend's ex-lov- ACK. I'm having a conversation with what *appears* to be Angel's soul. Those drugs they're giving me for the pain must be *really* stellar.>

Closing her eyes and turning her head away from the spectre near her bed, she tried to get a hold on her scattered wits.

"You're not here and I'm on drugs."

There was a slight chuckle in the direction of that.. that *thing* taking up space in her room. Why wasn't he in his body? With Buffy? Was Buffy dead?! Oh, God...

"I'm here, Willow. Just not.. physically."

Giving up again, the diminutive red-head turned her face back to where he was standing. He was still there, only he looked more... there. His shape was more defined, clearer. She could make out the spiki-ness of his hair and the crinkly places around his eyes. He had such nice eyes.

"Willow?"

"Huh? What? Oh. Um, hi?"

"I have a reason for being here. I need your help."

"Net-girl to the rescue?" She smiled weakly.

He chuckled again. "Something like that."

"Angel? Where *are* you?"

There was a slight displacement of air as he looked down at the floor. Shaking his head in a dissmisive manner, her brought his eyes back to level with hers.

"You succeeded, Willow. I got my soul back. It was kind of bad timing though." Taking in the girl's confusion, he asked, "Buffy hasn't been back, has she?"

"No. We were kind of hoping she and you.. well.. quiet time, but that's not happening, yes? Is she.. Angel, please tell me she's not dead." Unconsiously, Willow's eyes began to tear up at the thought.

"No." He sighed again, this time more heavily. Moving closer, he rested one "hip" on her bed. He settled down and she realized it was going to be a bit of a story.

"We were fighting. She had me cornered and was about to kill me. But you.. *I* was restored."

"It worked? I mean, I got all chant-y and Oz says I was speaking some fluent Latin and something went through me and stuff, but um, it worked?" His eyes told her now wasn't *exactly* the time for incoherent babbling. Now she was listening to phantoms of her pain-killer coated mind. Well, listening to his eyes. Ack. Xander was right, there are too many thoughts floating around here. "Um, bad timing, please continue as if I did not bibble."

He chuckled again.

Turning pink, she found that the lacing of her night gown was a *really* interesting shade of puce. <Note to self, start going with mom on these buying trips.>

Noticing her embarassment, the thing that possibly could have been Angel (but shouldn't be!!) moved on.

"I was restored, Willow. It worked. But," he shifted. Willow noticed the bed moved, kind of, where it hadn't when he sat down. Prolonged appearance factor must boost corporeality, she decided.

"Well, there's no easy way to say this. Buffy kinda sent me to Hell."

*THAT* got her attention.

"WHAT!?" The volume of the shocked statement amazed both of them. Willow recovered first.

"I mean, what!? You're in Hell? But that's not true because you're sitting on my bed. With me. In it. Where's Buffy?" This was *definitely* not going to be a good day. <Like there have been that many lately.>

"Willow."

She focused.

He was quite clear now. His features and clothing- a red silk shirt, black dress slacks, black leather bomber-jacket, and beaten-up half-boots- were completely in focus. The fact he was slightly transparent wasn't much of a major factor anymore. Heck, she'd dated a demon, and not a diluted one either.

"To answer your questions, no, I'm not in Hell, yes I'm sitting on your bed, with you in it and as for that last part..." Angel cocked his head slightly. "She's on a bus bound for Alaska. Daylight six months out of the year, you know." He smiled slightly. "I'll give her credit," this last was said to himself, "she sure doesn't do things in half-measures." Shaking his head, as if to clear it, he refocused on the diminutive red-head below him.

"I'm not in Hell because the demon was banished."

Willow looked up, a bit shocked. *Banished..!?* Her disbelief must have shown in her eyes. "Um, that's good, right?"

"Very good. Problem is, it's got my body." He grimaced.

Oh. The demon that has inhabited his body took it over and re-expelled his soul. Hm. "Wa-wait. How?" The thoughts racing through her mind just could not slow themselves to a word transferable rate.

"Well, when you re-anchored me to my body, you did it permanently."

"WHAT!? How? It was the same spell as before! I swear, I didn't change it!" She was starting to panic. Something *had* gone wrong with he spell. It was supposed to be a reinstatement of the original curse with a small addendum added on about the circumstances of breaking. Angel would only be able to break it if the sun would burn black for twenty days time. Then and only then would his soul split from his body, leaving only the demon. "Well, besides that sun burning thing. But that wasn't me! It was Ms. Calender."

Willow and Angel winced simultaneously.

"I'm sorry--" They broke off, both feeling slightly guilty. This time, Angel recovered first. "Willow, I'm sorry for what Angelus did. For what *I* did."

The small woman offerred a weak smile. "It's not okay, Angel. I won't say that. It is so far from okay it isn't in the same multi-verse." Angel had the good sense to cringe at her words. Though spoken in a gentle tone, they were deadly serious. "But, you weren't in control. You were being used." She reached out to catch his hand. Surprisingly enough, she did.

Taking the large palm in her small one, she tried to comfort the man. "I forgive you. I always have. You are a good man who just happens to find himself in some *really* crappy circumstances." The small smile gained force and intesity as she spoke. For the first time in days, the smile reached her eyes.

Looking into those green irises, something shifted in the vampire/transparent guy. She was forgiving him. He had hurt her deeply, both physically and emotionally, and she was trying to comfort *him.* Raising the hand she wasn't holding, he brought it to cup the uninjured side of her face. "You know, everyone thinks that Buffy is the strong one." He shook his head slightly. "They're wrong. You are." Her vehement denial was silenced by his thumb. "Yes, you are. Buffy may be physically stronger, but she could never have gone through any of it with out you. I mean look, by way of proxy, you were seriously hurt because of me. What are you doing? You're comforting the guy who got you beat up and killed your fish."

"Well, I needed some new ones anyway." Willow tried to pull her face away from his hand and hide it in her shoulder.

"You always do that."

Willow's eyes jerked back to meet Angel's. "What?"

"You hide. Why do you do that?" His thumb, which had not left her face, started making circular soothing motions on her cheek. "You are a beautiful young woman who is way too shy. What's to gain in hiding?"

Willow's eyes misted and she jerked herself away from Angel completely, ducking her face back into her shoulder. <You- no. Not fair. I'm not beautiful. I'm Willow. Net girl. I'm maybe pretty-- and that's a *big* maybe-- but only to Oz.> "Yeah, that's me, Willow Rosenburg, supermodel," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

Angel's eyes shuttered with vampiric speed. A visage that had formerly been welcoming and relaxed was now closed and hard. His voice had the strength of a jack-hammer. "You are not to put yourself down ever again."

His commanding tone made her start.

"You are beautiful. Anyone who says any different is insane or completely stupid."

He gripped her chin firmly in translucent digets. His eyes hard and focused, he nailed the point home. "There are very few women I have ever known who could hold a candle to you. You don't just have a physical beauty, though that is apparent, you have something stronger. Inside you," he stroked her cheek. "Your spirit is bright and amazing. The love and peace you exhude wraps around anyone and everyone near you." Bringing up his other hand, he clasped her face in a tense hold. She was *not* going to turn away from him.

"When you first found out I was a vampire you didn't run. You didn't recoil. You looked at me calmly and smiled. You accepted me for who I was. You didn't condemn me. In fact," he chuckled, somber humor cracking his deadly concentration. "The only time you ever turned away from me was when I attacked you. Even then though, you tried to reach out, to find me." His hands suddenly gentled, eyes softening in tandem.

"You are the emotional pillar for this rag-tag collection of people. Your worlds may revolve around Buffy, but the sanity of the group rests in *your* hands." Letting her face free, certain she was suitably entranced, he finished his minor rant.

"You are the strong one Willow. For that, you have not only earned my friendship and loyalty, but also my respect."

Not for the first time in her life, Willow Ann Rosenburg had no idea what to say. Her mind was in a state of complete and total shock. Someone.. a MAN... ANGEL had taken her to task about her own self esteem. He'd cared enough to try and put a stop to her self torture.

Angel's smile deepened. "Oz is the brightest individual in this entire town."

"Yeah, he is pretty great." In spite of her self, Willow found herself smiling again. Angel was helping. Why was Angel here? It certainly wasn't to boost her esteem or approve of her taste in men.

"Angel? I asked this before, but why *are* you here?"

It was like watching a blind being pulled over a window. Angel's face closed down and grew infinately cold. Surprised, Willow's eyes widened. Seeing her distress, he twitched his lips reasurrance.

Pulling back, Willow braced herself for the news. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. Angel, well, Angel's body was in Hell. That couldn't be fun. Fun stuff just didn't happen in Hell. Well, that's what mortals were lead to believe. It could be a very nice place, but there was that whole evil demon population thing that would just level any nice scenrey.

"I told you. I'm here because I need your help."

"But what can I do?"

Angel shifted again. He was looking a bit... uncomfortable.

"Angel?"

He was still silent. The expression on his face, however left little to Willow's imagination. It was something embarassing. The normally pale man's face was bright red, quite an acomplishment for a body-less soul. Whatever he wanted her to do was something he didn't relish. Or knew *she* wouldn't.

"What? Angel." Willow's eyes narrowed dangerously. She meant business.

"Like I said, *you* banished the demon." He started, still the color of a boiled lobster.

"Yeah, you mentioned that."

"Well... You know there is a certain amount of... hmm. How to put this. Magic is a very personal thing to execute." He sighed and shifted again. "There is a little piece of you in every spell you cast, even the little ones like removing warts and stuff."

Willow crinkled her nose. "What does this have to do with the banishment spell?"

"Well..." he hesitated.

Willow was getting a tad annoyed at the vampire in front of her. His hedging was starting to get on her already frayed nerves. Yeah, she was normally calm as a rock, but COME ON. Her week had been a little taxing and THIS was getting a little annoying.

"Angel. Spit it out." Her tone garnered *no* argument.

"Your soul and mine are forever anchored."

Willow's face was suddenly bloodless. "Wh-what? Anchored? Forever?!" If she hadn't been resting against pillows, she'd have been swaying.

Angel squirmed.

"Well, like I said, magic is a very personal thing. The original caster that bound me got around the whole soul linking thing by *physically* binding the eldest daughter of the line. As long as the eldest daughter of the eldest daughter, etc. was alive and near me, we were fine. Unfortunately, you didn't have the training she did... and we got... bound."

As Angel's explanation progressed, Willow's eyes glazed. <Oh, do I need to think about this. Yeah, Angel's nice, cute, gentleman-ly and thinks I'm beautiful, but do I want to spend the rest of eternity with him!? Okay, breathe.> ::deep breath::

Suddenly her shoulder was shaking.

"What?" She refocused on Angel's face.

"I know this is a bit much to take in.." his mouth quirked. "But like I said before, I need your help."

"Heh. Heh. H-okay." The breathing thing was just not going well for Willow.

"Willow?"

<Oooh, time to shake this off, girl..> "What?" She shook her head, trying to dislodge the cobwebs. "How can I help you?"

Angel sighed heavily. With a quick movement, he was no longer perched on her bed. Instead, he was pacing like a caged animal. <Oh, ack. This doesn't bode well for me..>

"Angel?"

Jerking his head up to meet her wary gaze, he paused. His dark brown eyes reflected a deep inner turmoil. Fear, pain, resignation, anger, hope; each emotion was battling hard for dominance. It was in that moment that Willow knew he wouldn't be here if it weren't *vital*. What he needed her to do, whatever it was, didn't just affect him. The world was at stake. Again.

<Not, again!> Willow fell back on her pillows. She was getting that feeling again. The same one as when Buffy had told her she was going to be Angel's last hope. It was cold-fear-ladden-dread, laced with iron resolve. This was gonna be scary as Hell, but it was needed. *She* was needed.

"I'll do it."

Catching his chaotic gaze, she projected every ounce of conviction she had through her gaze. Confusion quickly won.

"What? You don't even know what I'm going to ask.." Angel's body relaxed into disbelief. "You have *no* idea what I'm going to be asking of you. You can't promise anything without all the information!"

Oddly enough, his tone was on the verge of pure hysteria.

"Angel." Calmly, she waited for him to stop moving. "Angel, you are my friend. I trust you and care for you. Part of friendship is taking things on faith. You need my help, and I will do anything to offer it to you." She punctuated her speech by the gentle up-turning of her mouth. "Now stop wasting time and tell me what I have to do."

Eyes glowing with appreciation and gratitude, Angel smiled back. "Right now, I'm in a purgatory-like place. Well, my soul is. I have two choices. Either I stay there indefinitely, or I get someone to speak on my behalf so I can get sent back, along with my body."

"Speak on your behalf?"

He started twitching again. <Lord, am *I* this bad? If I am, it's surprising no one has beaten me yet. Wait.. nevermind.>

"Speak on you behalf..?" She prompted again.

"Um, you remember those Greek myths about a council of Judges deciding your ultimate fate?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well, they weren't entirely based in myth."

"Uuuukay..."

Angel took a deep breath. Well, it *looked* like he took a deep breath. That was something that had always really bothered Willow. Angel's body could talk, Spike could smoke, and both had the ability to create the normal suction-vacuum thing in with their mouths. How could they, and all vampires in general, claim not to breathe? What was up with that? Just basic talking required oxygen (or some other gas) to vibrate the vocal chords, beginning sound waves. As for smoking, well that entire sport was *based* around the art of drawing breath...

"WILLOW!"

"Huh? What?" Jerking herself out of wherever she was, Willow brought her attention back to the rather concerned ghost staring down at her.

"You looked a little lost. Are you okay? Is the pain medication bothering you?" A very-real-feeling hand settled on her forehead, searching for signs of a fever.

"I'm fine. Just letting my thoughts wander." Willow brought her head down in a sheepish gesture. "Xander says I have too many thoughts."

"I beg to differ." Angel chuckled, waiting for Willow to bring her eyes level to his. Seeing that it wouldn't happen anytime soon, he tugged gently on the end of a long strand of hair. "Hey, you have just the right number of thoughts. You're Willow." Rewarded with the lifting of her head, and a tremulous smile, he continued.

"You're my friend."

It was said with so little guile and such sincerity, it was all Willow could do not to burst into tears. Here he was, a two-hundred and forty two year old man, opening his heart and giving her his trust. She knew what it cost him. Everything he had ever touched had died, or been caused tremendous pain. Buffy had once confided in her that he had killed his family. Disgusted as her friend had sounded at what the demon had done, at the time, Willow couldn't help but think about what it had done to Angel. He'd had to watch as that... thing, walking around in his body, had destroyed everything he'd held dear, destroying *him* in the process. Everything he loved... gone. Even then she'd wondered about his ability to make himself that veunerable again. How could he let Buffy in, knowing she could die, leaving him to grieve?

And here he was, doing it again. With her. Little Willow.

With a squeak and a dive, she landed heavily in his arms. Hands knotted behind his neck, nose against his throat, she burrowed mercilessly. Caught unaware, Angel desperately tried to keep his balance on the bed. Clutching him tightly, she whispered something into his shoulder.

"You're *my* friend. Thank you."

Mouth wide open, he did the only thing he could; hug back. The stayed there like that. Just hugging. Holding on tight, and not just in a physical sense. Time doesn't hold back for anyone though, and, all too soon, the moment was gone. With a sniffle and a hiccup, Willow loosed her hold on the man, drawing back to look into his eyes.

"So, Judges, huh? Shades of "The Canterville Ghost?""

Angel smiled again. It was strange. He'd smiled more in the past twenty minutes than Willow had seen him smile in the last two years. She was glad she could do that for him.

"Yeah, kind of. There's a problem though."

"Not *another* one." Willow groaned, settling herself back into her pillows. "What, I have to beat myself over the head with a rubber chicken and do the Mexican hat dance, backwards, in Norwegian? Cause if I just hit on it, I don't know Norwegian."

"Willow." Angel's eyes were serious. So much for humour. ::sigh:: <Time to get down to business.>

"Angel, stop beating around the bush and give the entire situation straight. Stop pausing for dramatic effect." She rubbed a hand over tired eyes. She really needed to take another pain pill. A headache had started around the time he'd told her about that whole soul-binding thing, and it *wasn't* going away.

Angel nodded once, acknowledging her wishes. "If you want to speak for me, all you have to say is "I wish to speak on behalf of Angelus before the Council of Judgements.""

"Is that all?" Willow shot him an annoyed look. "I wish to-"

A hand clamped over her mouth.

"Not yet. You haven't heard the problem."

"Wwwreytkkbbt?" Willow's green eyes were the picture of confusion.

"You and I have some choices to make before you can say anything. Can I trust you not to talk until I tell the whole story?" A dark eyebrow quirked in inquiry. "It's what you said you wanted..."

She bobbed her head.

Removing his hand from her mouth, he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Okay. The reason I need to involve you in my decision making process is simple. Our souls are forever tied. Therefore, if we decide I should move on, it won't be too long from now that you will die."

"WHAT?" <Oh, this is soooo not happening!> Willow's eyes bugged to almost comical proportions. She was going to *die*? "Why the H-"

The hand went back on.

"Our souls are bound, and for them to survive, they need to be in close time and physical proximity. If I "ascend" or whatever, you get to come. It's like a rubberba-OW!"

Angel snapped his hand back, pulling it close to his chest. Shooting Willow an irked glare, tried to inspect the damage. "You didn't have to bite me." If he'd been, well, real, there would have been a set of perfect teeth marks on Angel's middle finger.

Crossing her arms in front of her, Willow settled in to glare. His superior attitude was *not* gelling with her headache. "Let me get this straight. If I don't come and talk on your behalf, I *die!?*"

Angel nodded carefully. Willow's tone was bordering on hysteria, and he knew it wouldn't take much to push her over.

"Okay, so it's a given that I will go and talk. What happens then? If *I* die when you do, what happens to you when I die? I mean, am I suddenly going to become immortal? Do you turn into a cloud of dust? God, why is this happening?"

Willow slammed her fist into the comforter beside her, anger and fear waging a war within. Was it just twenty minutes ago, she was unhappy that she was worrying about her missing Slayer friend? Now, a life time later, she was staring at the *very* real possibility that she, and the vampiric soul across from her, were about to A. Die, or B. possibly live forever. When life decides to be difficult, it doesn't do it half way.

"Willow, this may seem like a lot to take in.."

"A lot to take in!?" Eyes wide, Willow stared at the vampire sitting on her feet. "YES! That's exactly what it is!!! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!? I just got beat up, I found out my friend is on a bus to Alaska, you are in Hell, Xander and Cordelia are *still* dating, and it's full moon, so I can't see my boyfriend for another two days!! What's more, that little worm, Snyder, can't find another computer teacher willing to risk life and limb to come to a town with a 23% homicide/suicide/death-rate!! So, not *only* do I have to contend with *graduating*, I have to come up with lesson plans, deal with faculty meetings, face Snyder about *paying* me, and somehow find my friend, but I'm also stuck with a vampire for a soul-mate, an idiot for an unrequited love, and a wonderful, sweet, werewolf boyfriend!! When, the *hell*, am I even going to have time to BREATHE!?"

Beat-red, and spitting like a wet kitten, Willow came to the end of her tirade. Nearly two years of pent-up frustration spent themselves, leaving her wrung-out and exhausted. With a thump and a bounce, Willow landed, heavily, on her pillows.

Angel merely sat, dumbfounded. He'd no idea that she'd felt this way. Willow had always been the happy one. The one that just accepted things and moved on. He should have suspected. Willow was the one everyone ran to. Like he'd said earlier, *she* was the strong one. He should have known that she'd had no one to go to. After all, her parents knew nothing of the triple life she was leading. All they knew was that they had a gifted daughter, who was occasionally late for curfew, and was extremely hard on clothes. Who could she talk to? Yell at? No one.

Eyes closed, body limp, Willow started to speak again. This time, though, it wasn't in a hard tone. It was one laced in despair and fatigue.

"Now you come to me, albeit hat in hand, asking me to make a decision that will either kill me, or you? I used to wish something exciting would happen to me. Before Buffy, I would pray every night to let something,- *anything*- change the monotony of my life. Be careful what you wish for.." A dry chuckle emerged from between stiff lips. "All I want is one week, *one* week, that nothing bad will happen. One week where I can be relaxed and sure that no unseen demon will pop out of the abyss and attack a friend or family member. ONE damn week, where I can go to the Bronze with Oz, giggle hysterically at a movie with Buffy, have a long conversation with Xander, trade insults with Cordelia, read happily in the library, ask Giles a non-occult-related question, and share a cup of tea with you. But I can't. And that is the greatest source of sadness in my life."

By the end of her speech, Willow's eyes were open, and shining. Moving instinctively, Angel leaned down and captured her in a tight hug. She needed comfort, and since he was the only one here, it would have to be him. At first, she didn't quite register what was going on. Sensing the feeling behind this desperate embrace, she accepted him, and clung even tighter.

She was so wrapped up in the hug, she almost missed his voice.

"I'm sorry."

Sniffling a bit, she pulled back to stare at him. Brown eyes, glittering, he looked on the verge of tears himself. She took the initiative and touched his face, trying to reassure him. He would have none of it.

"No, Willow." He shook his head, slowly. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. I didn't want to come to you with this, but you had a right to be involved in the decision making process. It's your life, as well as mine. I thank you, eternally, for getting me out of Hell, but I would gladly have stayed there, just to make sure you didn't have to go through this. It isn't fair to you. You tried to do something nice for me, and look where you ended up."

Angel hissed in frustration, quickly running his fingers through much-tousled hair.

"Life seems to get weirder and weirder, huh?"

It was the lack of heat that made Angel look down. In her eyes, he saw it. She'd do it. She'd help. It was the only thing she could do. Willow followed through with her obligations, and right now... This puppy ruled.

Small hands came up to replace the vacuum his larger ones had made in his hair. She gave a sharp tug, bringing his forehead in contact with hers. Bright green eyes locked with chocolate.

"I wish to speak on behalf of Angelus Kieren Boyle to the Council of Judges."

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