Rated: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters of Buffy: The Vampire Slayer belong exclusively to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and Warner Brothers. I'm just borrowing.
Part three in the Friends... Lovers... Series.
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Xander was about to step through Willow's open door when he heard her laugh shyly into the telephone, "We are still talking about Xander, right Buffy?" He stepped out of the light and back into the darkness, silently watching the cute red head as she sat on her bed, smiling. "I'm sure he's on his way. Probably got held up by… Well… Something."
He watched as the expression on her face changed slightly, becoming more serious. Willow nodded to herself as she spoke, "It went okay, Buffy. I mean, he wasn't exactly being entirely co-operative for a start, but he came round. He still can't see it…" She broke off, listening intently. "I told him I forgive him. It was the only way I could get him to listen. He's stubborn," Willow smiled cheekily, "Like this Slayer I know." Willow rolled her eyes, "Not Faith, silly. You."
She listened again, running a hand through her hair, "Friends. Maybe not best buddies or anything, but…" She smiled, "Friends."
Xander leaned forward against the side of the house, a loud snap sounding as he stood on something beneath him. Willow's eyes shot toward the doorway and Xander cringed, trying to duck further into the darkness.
"Hang on a minute, Buffy…" She put the phone down and walked toward the doorway, warily glancing out into the gloom of night, "Angel?" She flicked on the switch by the door. Light drowned out the night at her door and she gasped, "Xander!"
"Er…" He looked like a guilty schoolboy, caught with his hand in the cookie jar right before dinner. He shrugged, "Hi Will."
She peered at him suspiciously, "What are you doing here?"
He ummed and ahhed for a moment, tumbling through his reply, "Well… I was… Out walking. To Buffy's. And I heard you… And…" He broke off, Why am I in explain mode? She should be! His face set sternly, "What's the deal with you and Angel?"
Willow's face flushed bright red as she fought for words to explain. "I… Well…" She could make out Buffy's voice coming from the phone, still on her bed where she'd left it. She turned back to the bed, picking up the phone. "Buffy?" She paused, "Xander's here." She listened again for a moment, nodding, "Uh-ah. Bye…" She hung up the phone, glancing at Xander, unsure of herself, and more than just a little unsure of him.
Xander stepped into her bedroom, hands on hips, his face a curious glare. "Wanna tell me why Angel was here?"
Her chest tightened and her breath began to come uneasily. This was a conversation she did *not* want to have with Xander. Ever. If he ever knew… She stumbled through a multitude of explanations all screaming to be spoken, but she didn't know which to use. She didn't *want* to lie to Xander, but if he ever found out, he'd move heaven and earth to keep Angel away from her.
"Will?" Xander's voice softened a little, "Tell me what's going on. Why were you and Deadboy so…" He shrugged, "You were crying, both of you, and, is it just me or is that a little too weird?" He stepped a little closer to her, "What's this thing you want to deal with, with him? Huh?"
Processing the questions solemnly, Willow's face sparked angrily for the briefest second, "Wait a minute…" She looked into Xander's eyes, "Were you eavesdropping and… And… Spying on us?"
"No!" Xander lowered his eyes, "Well… Kinda. But not intentionally."
Her voice was so close to silent Xander could barely make out what she was saying, "How… How could you… After what happened last time…"
Xander looked up at her sharply, "This is nothing like that, okay? Before I was…" His voice drifted off.
"Before you were… Well, I can't think of a bad enough word, but it was… Wrong and bad and…" She groaned, "Where Angel is concerned you don't know *how* to just… Butt out."
"You listen to me, Will. Angel is a killer. And no matter what kinda picture Buffy tries to paint of him, that's never gonna change." Xander's voice raised a few octaves, "I can't believe you've fallen for it too."
Willow marched toward her door, motioning Xander toward it, "Why don't you go, Xander? You want answers, but you can't handle them. Angel is not a killer. Angelus was."
"There's no difference…"
Cutting him off, Willow snapped, "Yes there is." Her sad face met his, "You just don't want to see it."
Xander moved toward her, gently taking her arm. "Willow, what was Angel doing here? Tell me."
Staring at her carpet, Willow murmured, "I wanted to talk to him."
"What about?" Xander leant a hand forward to tilt Willow's face up so he could see it, but she shrunk away from his hand, not wanting to look him in the eye while she lied to him.
Her mind racing, Willow stumbled through the next sentence. "About the night that he… When he changed…"
Xander asked gently, "When he tried to kill you?" Willow nodded. "Let me guess, you forgave him?" She nodded again. Xander groaned angrily, "You're just like Buffy. So willing to see him as *good.* Will, he's not good. And when he changes again, well, I get the pleasure of saying 'I told you so…' And I will, Willow, because he'll change again…"
"You're awful sure of yourself, Xan." Buffy's voice came to him, between puffs, from just outside Willow's door. She looked as though she'd run all the way from her house.
Surprised, Xander's eyes snapped up, meeting the Slayers. "Buff… Buffy… How long have you been… Er, there?"
"Long enough." She looked over at Willow and smiled gently, "Hey, Will." Willow returned her smile.
"Look, Buffy I…"
Buffy cut Xander off, a fierce glare on her face. "Just drop it, Xander."
Xander's face dropped sadly, "Look…" He whispered, "I just want to know what's going on. I mean, Will, I've never seen you upset like that… Not even with Oz and… Well, we don't need to get into that, but, anyway… Deadboy wasn't exactly a happy camper either, if you know what I mean."
The Slayer waited for a moment to see if Willow would respond, when she did not, Buffy told Xander quietly, "Angel's not exactly proud of the things that happened… Before. And for everything he did, he is really, really sorry, Xan. More sorry than any of us can ever know… Now I know you don't believe it, but it's true. And Will… She wanted things to be okay between them, right Will?" Willow nodded, "See? All very straight forward."
Xander reached out and rubbed Willow's arm lightly. When she looked up at him, he asked, "Are you sure that's all there is to it, Will?"
Hating herself for the words about to slip from her lips, Willow smiled gently, "Yeah, Xan. That's pretty much it."
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"Thank you. For coming to my rescue last night." Willow looked up from her science book and smiled at the Slayer. "I… I don't like lying… I mean, I *really* don't like lying, but… If Xander knew…"
"Yeah, I know, Will." Buffy returned the smile. "Things would be…"
"Awkward?" Willow offered.
Buffy grinned, "That's it exactly."
Both were silent for a few moments, lost in thought, until eventually Willow said seriously, "You think I'd learn… Secrets are bad. After what happened with Oz… But… This is so different. I don't want to bring it all up again… For Angel's sake."
Leaning across the coffee table in her lounge room, Buffy pat Willow's hand lightly. "You don't have to defend yourself to me. I understand." She added warmly, "Angel's really lucky to have a friend like you."
"Well, I don't know if *lucky* is the right word…"
"He is." Buffy gazed back down into her own science book, "I'm glad he has someone who cares." Despite herself, tears were coming to her eyes. The moment she spotted them, Willow rushed around the table to Buffy's side. She placed a soft hand on the Slayer's shoulder as she began to cry, "I miss him so much, Will…"
As Buffy leaned toward her, Willow wrapped her arms around her, hugging her tightly. She cooed softly as she held her, "It'll be okay, Buffy." This is my fault… Willow felt tears springing to her own eyes at seeing her best friend so upset. All this talk about Angel. She sighed to herself. From now on, no mentioning Angel unless Buffy asks.
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Angel rolled over in bed, glancing at the clock across the room. Still a couple of hours until sunset… He groaned restlessly. Since getting home the night before, he hadn't been able to sit still for more than a few minutes. His mind was busily sorting the events of the past few days, his soul trying to make some sense of them.
Willow. A gentle sigh escaped him as he thought of her. In fact, he'd done little else since seeing her the night before. After everything he'd done to her, she'd forgiven him. With such ease and trust. He almost couldn't get over the trust she'd put in him the moment he'd arrived at her house. The moment she'd opened the door, she was asking sweetly, "Wanna come in?" No hesitation, no doubt. Just friendly acceptance.
When he'd first come back, Buffy hadn't been quite as accepting. With good cause, he reasoned. But then, he had hurt Willow in ways he'd *never* hurt Buffy. He often wondered how two people, the best of friends, could be so different. While Buffy was always looking for some hidden agenda, while she found it much more difficult to trust, as with most Slayers, he assumed, Willow just took him as he was. I wonder if some of that has to do with the fact that *she* restored my soul. She had to have felt me go through her. She'd know, better than anyone, that I'm okay again… He added solemnly, well, as close to okay as I'll ever be.
Or could it be… He asked himself curiously, does Willow still love me?
That night… When they'd been together, the love he'd felt within the deepest boundaries of her soul… He'd *never* felt anything like that. It was easily as strong as the love he'd felt from Buffy over the time they'd been together, but it was incredibly different. Sweeter, gentler… There weren't words to describe it.
Angel shook his head, angry with himself. If she loved me once, I doubt she still loves me now. Not after everything I did.
When he'd spoken to her last night, there was such passion and need in her desire to be reconciled with him. But he couldn't believe it was love driving her own. Not now. He'd been away for a long time… She would have had time to… Adjust, he supposed. She would've let me go.
He thought suddenly, I wonder where she is right now. He sat up in bed, running a hand through his hair, Maybe I should call her. She said she wanted to *hang out.* Angel had to smile at the way she'd asked nervously, "Do you wanna, maybe, if it's okay, like, meet up sometime? We could just… You know… Hang out, like friends do."
And he'd told her, all honesty, "I'd like that."
And I would. He stood up and wandered from the bedroom, I haven't had any real company for a while. Buffy stops by but she never stays very long… He caught himself, I guess she won't even be doing that anymore. He made his way down the long, dark corridor, dodging the occasional stab of sunshine that had somehow infiltrated the blackened windows.
His stomach growled hungrily as he stepped into the kitchen, walking to the fridge and opening it. I wonder what Willow looks like in the sunlight? He grabbed a small container of blood from the top shelf, flicking the lid off it and putting it in the microwave beside the fridge. Her eyes are like sunshine, always sparkling… He entered 40 seconds into the microwave and pressed the start button, suddenly uncomfortably aware of his train of thought.
This wasn't the first time he'd thought of Willow like this… Many times, before he'd changed, he'd wondered about her. There was something… Some part of her that he was quite captivated by, and she was, even now, more pure of heart than most people could ever dream to be. She was kind and devoted and thoughtful. There weren't many people who could be all three of those things all at once and all the time.
When the Microwave beeped redundantly, he popped upon the door, scooping up the warm container, holding it for a few moments to let it warm his cold hands. I'm gonna call her tonight. He told himself. I'll walk to the phone booth down the road and call her.
Maybe they could see each other. He hoped so. Whenever he saw Willow, just the way she'd speak to him, or the way she'd smile… Sometimes she really has me believing that, some day, things will be all right.