Author:  Cara Ellen

Parts 1-6

EMAIL: caraellen@home.com

DISTRIBUTION:  Go for it! Just let me know so I can brag to my friends.

SPOILER:  Anya's 'Gone'

RATING:  PG--for now, may bump up a bit later

CONTENT WARNING:    Adult topics, Possible main character death.

FEEDBACK:   I eat it for lunch, and BOY! I'm HUNGRY!!

SUMMARY:  A Willow/Angel based sequel to Anya's 'Gone'.

DISCLAIMER:  The characters here are property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.  I don't own them...I just like to play with them in my dollhouse of horrors. :-)  The words and story are my own, concept credit to Anya.

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

~Part: 1~

< Slowly,  > he thought. < Everything has to be perfect. >

Xander Harris never put too much effort into his looks.  A clean shirt and a comb through the hair were usually all it took.  However, today was different.  Today was special.  Today he took the time to carefully comb his shaggy brown hair off his forehead.  He had to look perfect.

Walking over to his closet, Xander stood before the rows of shirts and pants, but he already knew what to wear.  He plucked a blue polo shirt off a hanger, and pulled out nice slacks.  She'd given him this shirt, for his last birthday.  She said she liked the way he looked in it.  She said it made him look older.

But he didn't need the shirt to look older.  Xander had aged fast over the past few months.  Now ragged and battle-weary, he had matured more than any normal eighteen-year old boy.  But, then again, what about his life had ever been normal?  Fighting vampires, battling ancient prophecies, losing everything in his life that had ever meant something.  Xander Harris was not your average high school senior.

Carefully tucking his shirt into his pants, he looked quietly into the mirror.  He was pale and thin...too thin.  Dark shadows accentuated his lack of sleep.  Gray hairs defied his youth.  But, for what seemed like the first time in forever, his face was peaceful.  The constant grief and pain that always lurked in the shadows of his eyes was quieted.  His jaw was set and his forehead free of wrinkles.
 
Taking a deep breath, he hesitated before leaving his bedroom of the last eighteen years.  Memories flew through his head, too fast to analyze.  Years of laughter with his friends.  The good times and the bad.  There were all there. But Xander didn't dwell on the feelings. He'd spent too much time on that recently.  Blinking back tears he didn't have the strength to shed, Xander grabbed a bag off his bed and strode out of the room, not looking back.

The November air was crisp.  A breeze blew through his shirt, but he wouldn't shiver.  The leaves were changing color and Sunnydale looked beautiful.  Despite it's supernatural problems, it was truly a picturesque town.  Xander looked around with new eyes, the Norman Rockwell-setting adding to his calm.  He allowed his mind to wander. After all, he'd traveled this path countless times before.  His feet simply knew the way.

In the distance he heard a churchbell strike once. < One o'clock, > he thought. < Math class. >  The thought brought a smile to his face. Sheepishly shoving his hands in his pocket, Xander allowed the smile to spread and let loose a soft chuckle.

He closed his eyes, allowing the cool breeze to caress his cheek. Xander Harris was truly content.  He'd survived the worst year of his life, and he knew what he had to do.

Turning into the Sunnydale Cemetery, Xander slowed.  His heart began to beat faster within his chest, but he was undeterred.  He passed headstone after headstone, some new, some as old as Sunnydale itself. He passed the mausoleum, remembering that first night.  How different he had been then, how...innocent.

The smile faded from his face as he approached it, watching the lettering slowly come into view.  He'd been here before.  He'd been so stricken with grief the first time, he hadn't been able to bring himself to leave.  He stayed hours after the funeral.  Most passed it off as sadness for his loss.  But for Xander, it was fear that kept his feet in place and eyes plastered to the fresh grave.  Fear of facing the future alone.  Fear of losing everything so fast.  Fear of not knowing how to survive without her, not knowing how to move on.

He'd come back occasionally.  Sometimes to leave flowers, sometimes just to talk.  When he really thought about it, it was strange to him.  He spoke to her grave as if she was right there in front of him. Sometimes, if he closed his eyes, he could make himself believe she was.

Xander stood in front of the stone.  He'd memorized every edge and corner before, and now, it was almost calmingly familiar.  The grave was in a secluded corner under a large tree bright with autumn.  It was peaceful there, he imagined she would have liked the spot herself.

"Hello, Buffy."  He looked at the grave with a sad smile.  He was almost used to not receiving an answer or a snappy comment.  Kneeling slowly, he reached out his fingertips to touch the cool stone.  A cloud danced in front of the sun, casting a shadow over the engraving.

‘Buffy Summers, 1981-1998, Beloved Daughter and Friend.'

"I miss you," he continued, taking a deep breath.  "I guess you know that.  I saw you in my dream again last night.  You looked so beautiful, so happy.  You told me what to do, how to make it better.  You told me the hurt would go away, and I believed you.  I believe you," he corrected himself.  "You always knew what was best.  I'm happy, Buff.  I didn't think I could ever say that again, but I am.  I know what I have to do now, and I'm happy."

"I almost forgot what it felt like.  Ever since this summer my life's been nothing but pain and misery.  But--" He stopped himself.  "Let's not dwell on the past."

"Let's see," he shifted, making himself more comfortable.  "I got a letter from Giles the other day.  He's good, back in England.  He said they offered him another Watcher position, but he didn't take it.  I guess he knows no one can replace you."   He paused, pondering the thought.  "I think about that sometimes.  Who the new slayer is.  What she's like, where she lives...if she's pretty."  He laughed at himself, knowing that he would have received a hard smack from Buffy for that comment.  "Anyway, he's living in his old house, sipping tea and reading, I suppose.  I guess he's happy there."

"Cordelia is...well, Cordelia.  I saw her at the mall last week.  She looked good.  She smiled at me, but didn't say hello or anything.  I guess she didn't want to talk.  That's fine.  I mean, I guess she feels she did her duty, letting me cry on her shoulder.  But now, she wants to move on with her life.  I don't think she deals well with grief.  Too much pain and suffering for her.  She's not strong like you," he said, oblivious to his use of present tense, as if Buffy were still there.

"As for the others...well, I guess you know that.  I wish I could come here and tell you news, or read a letter from Willow.  But, I still haven't heard anything.  I've written her letters, telling her I miss her and I--I love her.  I wrote and told her about what happened to you.  She'd want to know that.  She'd be sad, that you died fighting the Annointed One for her.  But I bet she'd smile knowing you killed him in the process.  I just wish I had an address, or somewhere to send the letters.  I know it's silly, to write to someone when you know they'll never get to read them.  But I guess it's kinda like therapy for me." He thought for a moment, then shook his head to rid his mind of the sadness.

"I guess I don't need to tell you all this here.  I should be able to tell you in person soon.  I can't wait, Buffy.  I can't wait to hold you again, to be with you.  I miss you so much.  You were so happy in my dreams.  I want to be happy like that."  Xander reached around behind him for his bag.  Eyes not leaving her name, his hand rested on the object at the bottom.  He slowly pulled out his father's heavy revolver.  The metal was cold and foreign in his hand, but he did not falter.

He looked at it, sadness creeping into his dark eyes.  "One by one you all left me," he said, more to himself than anyone.  "First Willow and Angel, then you, then Cordelia, and then Giles.  You all left me here with broken pieces."  He drew in a ragged breath, looking back up at Buffy's grave.  "Now it's my turn to leave."

Xander re-adjusted the gun in his hand, taking a measured breath.  He'd expected resistance from the back of his mind.  But his head was clear, demons quieted.  He slowly brought it to his temple.  He licked his lips in anticipation, the action calming him.  His eyes read the words on Buffy's grave for the hundredth time.  "See you soon," he whispered softly, squeezing his eyes shut.  The shot rang out across Sunnydale, but Xander Harris didn't hear it.
 

~Part: 2~

"Xander!!" She tossed herself awake, shouting. Panting and sobbing, she looked out frantically into the darkness. Unable to clear her mind, she couldn't recognize where she was. The nightmare had been deathly real. Xander's face swam before her wet eyes and the gunshot still sang in her ears. She screamed again, half in terror, half in sad desperation.

Sitting up in bed, a sweat-soaked Willow Rosenberg struggled to focus on her surroundings. She finally realized it had only been a dream, and that normally would have been enough to calm her. But this was all-too real.

She looked around, roughly brushing damp red hair off her face. She realized for the first time that she was alone. "Angel?" She called out. She'd had nightmares before, and usually her dark companion was always there when she woke up screaming. "Angel?" Willow called again, choking back a sob. < Where is he? >

Feeling the darkness of the room begin to close in on her, Willow slid off the bed. Trembling, she had to wait a moment before feeling strong enough to walk across the floor. She padded to the doorway, passing a mirror. She was a mess. Her normally smooth hair was wild and matted. Her eyes were wide in an abnormally pale face. < Vampire, > she grimly reminded herself.

She stepped out into the carpeted hallway of the Venice apartment she shared with Angel. The far-away kitchen light was her only guide, but she didn't even need that. She could see perfectly in the darkness. Old habits and stubborn refusal of her new life made her turn on a light anyway.

"Angel?" She asked into the quiet. Her mind was working overtime, fearing the worst. She peeked into his room. "A-Angel?" Still no answer. Alone and petrified, Willow broke down and let her brimming eyes overflow. First she cried quietly, but soon she was sobbing in a childlike wail. The dream was still fresh in her mind. She kept seeing it, over and over in her head. Xander at Buffy's grave. Xander talking about Giles, Cordelia, and about her. Xander pulling out a gun. Xander--she could see it all. It was a loop, never ending. As soon as he pulled the trigger, he was back in his room, carefully combing his hair and getting dressed.

She stumbled into the living room, blinded by her tears, ears full with her own cries. < Where is he when I need him? > She leaned against the wall, crawling along the edge of the room. Reaching the corner, her body was so wracked with sobs, Willow simply crumbled to the floor.

She seemed to sit there forever, forced by her mind to watch the dream again and again. Each time it ended, her breath came harder, close to hyperventilating. Her fingers began to tingle and she could feel her feet going numb. The only thought that was her own, was focused on Angel. She wished she were psychic. Then she could reach out with her mind and find him.

But before she could even consider trying, her prayers were answered. She heard the lock of the door slide open, and saw Angel slip inside. At the sight of him, relief coursed through her body, causing her to cry out.

Angel immediately picked up on the noise, his head cocked to the side, searching for the sound. Unable to call out to him, Willow could only sob again.

"Willow!" Angel shouted. From the corner, she watched him drop his packages and dart across the room with vampiric speed. Halfway through the living room, Angel's demon made an appearance, causing his face to shift and a low growl to rumble in his throat. She could hear him tear into her room, ready to fight whatever had made her cry. "Willow?" Angel checked his own bedroom and the bathroom they shared. Coming back into the living room, his eyes scanned the darkness. When they fell upon the shaking form in the corner, he instantly morphed into the beautiful human she'd come to trust. "Oh God, Willow?"

He approached her slowly, checking to make sure she wasn't hurt. He reached his hand out, kneeling next to her. Her frightened eyes met his concerned ones, and fresh tears ran down her cheeks. "Angel," she choked, nearly jumping to wrap her slender arms around his waist. She clung to him like a child and continued to sob.

Heart breaking, he gently wrapped his arms around her warm body. His hand stroked the back of her head, as he soothed her with his velvet voice. Feeling her tremble beneath his fingers, Angel tightened his grip, beginning to rock back and forth. She leaned her head against his chest. She couldn't get close enough. She couldn't hide enough. Even Angel's embrace couldn't wash away the memory of the nightmare.

When he felt her calming down, Angel gathered her petite form in his arms, and lifted her out of the corner. Still sniffling, Willow clung to his neck and allowed herself to be carried. After a moment of debating, Angel turned from the hallway into his own room. With Willow, he climbed onto his bed. Somewhere in the recess of his mind, he remembered thinking about this, carrying Willow into bed with him. However, his version had been slightly more romantic. He guiltily pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand: calming the frightened child.

He sat, leaning against the head board, Willow cradled against his body. He could hear her breathing relax, and could feel her heartbeat even out. He wanted to talk to her, to ask her what had happened to cause this. But he waited with the patience of a man who's lived two centuries, until she spoke first.

Sniffling, Willow looked up into Angel's concerned face. Her eyes were red and weary. Angel thought he could detect a bit of embarrassment and self-consciousness at their current position. But all he could focus on was the dark terror he saw in her face. Reaching up with gentle fingers, Angel wiped the remnants of her tears from her cheeks, and brushed her hair out of her eyes. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her warm forehead.

"Angel?" She asked quietly.

"Shhhh..." he calmed her. "I'm right here."

"I had a nightmare."

Deep down he wanted to chuckle. < All this over a dream? > He thought. < Sheesh. > But obviously it had terrified her to the core, so he continued to stroke her face soothingly. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

She nodded, unable to tell if she could relay the dream without breaking down again. She pulled herself into a better sitting position, allowing his arms to fall softly around her. She looked down at her hands, not wanting to watch him as she spoke. "It was Xander." She started, choosing her words carefully. "He was getting dressed and brushing his hair. It was like I was right there, inside his room with him. I could smell his cologne. I could hear the birds outside."

She took a deep breath. "I watched him walk around town. He looked so happy, so peaceful. I mean, he looked awful. He was pale, a-and really thin, but he looked like he was happy. He was enjoying himself, walking along in the sun." Willow stopped, a sharp pang going through her. Normally that choice of words wouldn't have caused a second thought, but she knew it was different now. Though she could travel in the daylight, Angel could not. These days Willow didn't go anywhere without Angel, which meant she didn't go anywhere in the sun. But she swore, in the dream, she could feel the sunlight on her face and the breeze through her hair. Like she was right there alongside her childhood friend.

"I watched him go into the cemetery." Her voice wavered, but she continued. "He was at a grave. Angel, it was Buffy's." She felt his arms stiffen. "Buffy was dead. He said the Annointed One killed her." The more vivid the memory became, the faster Willow spoke. "He said that everyone was gone. She was gone, Giles was gone. He was alone. He-he was talking to her like she was right there. He looked calm, but I know he was so sad. It's like I can remember seeing him in my dreams, crying and grieving over the loss. I thought it was from me, but it was really from losing Buffy."

Angel's brow creased. She spoke of the dream as if it were a continuing story. Like her previous nightmares had all been leading up to this.

"And then," she whispered. "I watched him take out his father's gun. A-and he said that he was alone, and it was his turn to leave. And then...I watched him k-kill himself..." She broke off into another round of sobs.

Angel could feel her grief like a claw around his heart. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and leaned into her body. He wished he could take the pain from her, take it into himself. It pained him so much to see her like this. So terrified, so sad. He knew it'd been hard for her, leaving Sunnydale and all her friends. But he didn't know the full extent of her troubles. He didn't realize her mind was torturing her so much with these dreams.

"It was so real," she breathed into him. "I was there. I could feel and smell, and hear everything. I don't think it was a regular dream."

Angel pulled back, confused. "What do you think it was?"

"A vision of some sort. Some kind of prophecy of what's going to happen. Something trying to tell me that I'm going to lose...really lose everyone. It was too real to be anything else."

"A vision, Willow?" He was skeptical, but indulged her for the moment. "Are you sure? What do you think it means?"

"I think it was telling me something."

"Telling you what?" He asked, somewhat not wanting to hear her response.

"Telling me to go home. Telling me to go back to Sunnydale."
 

~Part: 3~

"Go back to Sunnydale?" If he could breathe, Angel would have sighed. "Oh, Willow... we've been through this before. You know we can't go back."

"No!" She insisted, not letting herself be deterred. "We have to! You don't understand. This dream--these dreams are telling me to go back! We have to help!"

"Help what, Willow? We don't know what this means, if anything." Angel gently brushed her cheek, trying to make her understand.

"It has to means something, Angel. I know it. I feel it."

"Okay," he indulged her. "Tell you what, why don't you go back to the dream. Think about what you saw, and tell me everything. Remember what you heard. Maybe we can find some meaning."

Willow let out a breath she didn't realize was trapped in her lungs. Angel was stubborn, perhaps more stubborn than she. She knew he was determined not to go back to Sunnydale for a lifetime or two. But she couldn't stop the knot twisting in her stomach telling her that she had to help her friends. Tucking a stray piece of red hair behind her ear, Willow returned to the nightmare she was trying desperately to forget. < I hope this helps, > she thought.

"Xander was in his room?" Angel asked, prompting her to start.

"He was, uh, getting ready. He combed his hair and got dressed. He looked really good in the shirt, and his hair was all--"

"Willow," Angel stopped her. As much as he wanted to hear about how wonderful the boy looked, he doubted it had much to do with any messages the dream was trying to send. "You said he went to the cemetery? To...Buffy's grave? What did he say?"

"He said that he missed her, but he was happy."

"What do you mean he was happy?" Angel asked, trying to piece the information together.

"He said that he'd been sad long enough. And he knew what to do, and he was happy." Willow shuddered, remembering what "he had to do" meant.

"Okay, what else did he talk about?" Angel coaxed. He knew the dream was painful for her, so he tried to keep her focused on what Xander had said, rather than what he'd done. He didn't think his heart could take another crying session from Willow.

"He said that Giles was gone. He went back to England, and they tried to give him another Watcher position, but he didn't want it. He said that no one could replace Buffy."

Angel chewed his lower lip thoughtfully, searching for meaning in her words.

"And then he was just telling her about how he and Cordelia broke up, and he barely saw her anymore. He talked about how sad he was when we left, and how much he missed me. And then he said it was his turn to leave." Willow broke off, not wanting to go any further in the memory.

Angel thought for a moment. "So the dream was basically about how everyone had left, and now he was going to leave. Maybe that's it. Maybe it's telling us that everyone's going to drift apart eventually."

Willow's heart collapsed. "Because of us." She'd been silently praying for Angel to realize that this was the work of a demon, or prophecy, or that it at least held some kind of direction. A guiding light to tell her how to help her friends. Instead she found what she knew all along. Because of her and Angel, nothing would ever be the same again.

"No," Angel said suddenly. "Not because of us. Because of Buffy."

Willow was confused. "Buffy? How is this Buffy's fault? We're the ones who left--"

"No, Willow, think about it." Angel was anxious to get the thought out before it escaped him. "Everyone was sad when we left, you saw that in your previous dreams. You said you saw Buffy and Xander, Giles and Cordelia all upset because we were gone. Then Buffy... That's when everyone started to leave. They were all there after we left, but when Buffy died, they all moved on soon after. Buffy was the catalyst, not us."

Willow was starting to understand Angel's idea. "Buffy," she said thoughtfully. "Buffy died fighting the Annointed One...in my dream."

Angel raised his eyebrows, and said simply: "That's it."

"So the vision is warning me that if Buffy fights the Annointed One, she'll die." Willow was suddenly excited and sprung off the bed. She jumped around the room, spinning and speaking quickly. "So, we go back to Sunnydale and help Buffy fight the little bastard. We can leave tomorrow. Oh, and we have to check to make sure we go at night. You should call that guy you know at the airport. And I can take a window seat, since it's no problem and I--"

"Willow," Angel cut her off gently. She stopped short and looked at him, surprised. Their eyes met. Willow could see pain in his eyes. She could see his apprehension. She could see what he was about to tell her.

The realization hit her and she opened her mouth to protest. But, knowing it was futile to argue with Angel, she quickly shut her lips. Her brow creased, and for a moment, Angel thought she was going to burst into tears. But Willow did the exact opposite. Instead of being upset, Willow was furious.

"Oh, no! Don't even tell me we can't go back, Angel! You know and I know that we have to! Buffy will die if we don't help! And Giles and Xander too!" She screamed at the stoic vampire.

Willow stepped towards him, arms flailing, face ablaze in a red-hot fury. "No! Don't just sit there and look at me! We are going. I'm not going to sit around doing nothing while my friends die one by one! I'm going back to Sunnydale. I'll even go without you," she changed tactics. "I'll fight the Annointed One myself! I'm strong. Stronger than him, and stronger than Buffy, a-and maybe even stronger than you. And I don't care if I get myself killed, because I'm not really alive anyway! I don't care. I don't want to be a half-breed vampire for the rest of eternity, and not be able to have a normal life, and a husband and kids and--." Willow's babbling became an incoherent mess of hiccups and sobs.

"Willow," Angel slid off the bed, approaching her. Her anger dissipated and she was once again a hysterical young woman. Angel carefully gathered her in his arms and cradled her against his body. He held her gently, trying to reassure her.

Tears welled up in the time-weary man. Angel was torn. He understood all too well her emotions, her feelings of helplessness and dispair. They were all part of the change. All part of the acceptance. That was the price paid for immortality. Physically live forever, but without any kind of a life.

For Willow it was twice as bitter. She hadn't asked for this. She didn't have the choice as he'd had. She's spent the past sixteen years playing house and wallowing in her crush on the boy next door. She never had to face a barren future. She never had to reorganize her entire being...her entire way of living... And all he could do was hold her and quiet her tears. He could provide no relief and no solution. He could not give her the life she wanted. No matter what he did, Angel was nothing but a constant reminder of the darkness.

Angel's self-inflicted guilt was brought to an abrupt halt when Willow suddenly dug her nails into his back. "It's not fair," she wailed like a child. Willow took in a ragged breath, muffled by Angel's shirt. "Angel, please." The words were so soft. So hopeless and so desperate. Angel swore he could hear his heart tearing apart.

"Shhh..." He stroked her head. "I'll see what I can do." He resigned. He couldn't take this anymore. He might be forced to watch Willow struggle with her new life, but Angel could not bear to see this girl destroyed by her nightmares and the knowledge that her friends would fight a losing battle with fate.

*****

"Okay," Angel said into the phone. He leaned back, peeking around the doorway. He could see Willow still asleep in his bed. She'd been up most of the night crying. He tried to take her into her own room to rest, but she was so weak from the night's events, her legs couldn't support her own weight.

He'd laid her back into his bed and drew up the covers. He knew what she needed, whether she liked it or not. He returned from the kitchen with two bags of blood. She'd feebly tried to protest, but he hadn't let her. He bit into one bag and tore off an end. He positioned himself on the bed behind her and sat her up, leaning on him heavily for support. He held the bag to her mouth, which she tentatively took. It wasn't the first time she drank blood from a bag, but Willow was still cautious.

Angel held her as she greedily began to suck on the plastic life. She could feel the blood coursing through her veins. It revived her. It relieved her. She felt better almost instantly. Pulling the bag from her lips, she gasped for air.

"Better?" He'd asked. She nodded, wiping the red droplets from her mouth. "One more?" Willow reached around and grabbed the second bag from his fingers. She tried to tear it open with her teeth, but only met with resistance. "Here, let me." Angel took the blood and easily tore open a corner. Willow frowned at her own inexperience.

After she finished off her second helping, Angel silently helped Willow slide down in the bed and get comfortable. He looked into her tired face as she quickly drifted off to sleep. Leaning over, Angel allowed his lips to graze her forehead, before quickly retreating into the hallway.

"Hmm?" Angel shook himself out of his reverie. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said I will be checking in with you every few days." The Englishman repeated impatiently. "For now, I'll--I'll tell Buffy something. She's talked about fighting the Annointed One, you know."

"I'm sure she has," Angel answered, smiling to himself. "But you have to hold her off, tell her anything but the truth, for now. I need time."

"Yes, of course." Giles sighed. He'd been surprised to get the call from Angel. He hadn't expected to hear from him again, especially not so soon. "Take the time you need to prepare."

"We'll be in touch," Angel said, ending the conversation.

"A-Angel?" Giles reached out, tentatively.

"Yes?"

"How is she?" He was curious, looking for reassurance. Angel had told him about the nightmares, but he'd left out anything regarding her condition.

"She's fine, Giles. She's beginning to accept her condition. I'll start training her tomorrow. She doesn't understand her powers, she doesn't know how to use them. But she will. She wants to help Buffy, and I know she'll do whatever she has to. But, understand I need time. If we're going to defeat the Annointed One, we must be ready."

"I understand. Please, be careful."

"We will. You know what you have to do. I'll be in touch." Angel quickly hung up the phone. The conversation had gotten too close. He didn't want to divulge that much information. All Giles needed to know was that he had to prevent Buffy from challenging the Annointed One before he and Willow were ready to return.

He'd sounded tired. Angel didn't envy him. Not only was he forced to witness what had happened to Willow, but he'd tried to keep it a secret from her closest friends. He's been dealing with hysterical teenagers for nearly two months. And now, he had the ultimate challenge of trying to stop a pig-headed slayer from fighting the creature that had destroyed her life. Angel knew he didn't have time to fool around. He needed to get Willow prepared, physically and mentally.

Absently rubbing his lips, Angel stared into his room at the quiet figure. < I hope you trust me. >
 

~Part: 4~

"You want me to do what?" Willow asked, incredulously. She stared at the man in front of her like he'd just lost his mind.

"Hit me." He braced himself.

"Angel, I'm not going to hit you."

Angel relaxed, tilting his head towards the reluctant hacker. "Willow," he warned. "We talked about this. If you want to go and fight the Annointed One you have to be prepared."

"I know, I know. But, I mean. Can't we just talk about fighting, or watch some good instructional videos?" The attempt was feeble, but Willow believed in her words. She stuck out her lower lip and turned her brown eyes towards the vampire. "Please?"

Angel walked towards her and gently grabbed her wrist. He closed her fingers into a fist, and lightly jabbed himself in the stomach. "Willow. Hit me."

Willow drew her hand back, cradling it like a wounded paw. Angel stopped, "Willow, what's wrong? What's really bothering you?"

"It's- I-," She didn't know how to tell him. "I'm afraid of what the demon will do." She blurted out. That being said, she added quietly: "I don't know how to control it like you do."

Angel's shoulders fell. He walked towards the scared girl and took her small face in his hands. "I should have known better, Willow. I'm sorry. I was hoping you'd follow my instructions and not question. I was hoping to get the demon out naturally, to show you what it's like. But I should have known you were too smart for that."

Stunned, Willow pulled back from his touch. "You what?"

"Listen to me, the only way you can learn to control the monster inside, is to understand what you're fighting. You need to feel what it's really like for the demon to surface, to take control. You need to see what happens inside when you change. I know it's hard, but that's the only way you can learn to keep control."

Willow got angry, and defensive. "You don't think I know that? You don't think I feel the demon inside every time I smell blood? Or get too close and hear someone's heartbeat? I can feel it, tearing me apart. But I'm afraid, Angel. Afraid of what it'll do if I let it go. I could kill someone. Lord knows, I almost did!"

Angel's concern rose. He had no idea she was so terrified. He also knew it was imperative that she go through the change, just once.

"Willow, you're here, with me and no one else. We're in a locked room. I'll protect you, you know that. I won't let you hurt yourself or anyone else."

"But, Angel, what about you?" She protested.

"Don't worry about me. I can handle myself. You need to trust me."

"No!" Willow was adamant, tears threatening to spill over.

Angel stepped forward. "Well, if that's the way you feel..."

Willow nodded enthusiastically. Inwardly she rewarded herself for being more stubborn than Angel. She also breathed an incredible sigh of relief at the knowledge that she wouldn't have to face her demon after all.

"Well then," Angel paused. He looked down, almost ashamed. "I'm sorry, Willow."

Before she could respond, Angel brought the back of his hand hard across her face. The slap echoed through their entire apartment. A stunned Willow flew a few feet and landed in a heap on the floor. Her hand cradled her wounded cheek. His ring had made a small slice on her cheekbone, causing a dribble of blood to emerge.

Willow looked at her hand, seeing the blood. Inside, she could feel something bubbling. Two wars waged themselves. The first battle was easily won. Her head was telling her that Angel was only trying to prove a point. However a stronger voice in her mind was angry as hell that he'd hit her.

The second battle was harder. It was the battle that Willow feared more than anything. It was the battle between two forces stronger than her entire being. It was the ancient battle between good and evil. Inside her mind and inside her heart, Willow's soul was battling Willow's demon.

Her pent up frustration served a more nutritious meal than fresh blood. The demon fed on her emotions. It relished in her desire to kick and scream and tell the world how angry she was at fate. Angel asking Willow to get angry and fight was like asking a baby to cry. It was natural. Willow's demon was ready to unleash her fury and tear into his ancient flesh with her newly acquired fangs. But Willow's soul had been holding it back. Her pureness and her innocence proved to be temporary holy water fending off her inner monster.

However, this was too much. Angel was yelling at her. She lay on the ground, staring with narrowing eyes at the blood he had drawn. His voice was drowned out by a distant pounding in her ears. A low growl rumbled in the back of her throat and her eyes began to glow. Her face didn't shift, but her lower lip began to bleed from the contact of her fangs.

"Come on, you baby!" Angel yelled, his own face a demonstration of the demon inside.

Willow's head snapped up, feral eyes meeting full vampiric ones. Inside, Angel smiled. This was exactly what he'd planned. Outside, he continued to goad her. Willow's breathing became erratic and her growl grew louder.

Angel took a threatening step towards her. His aggressive movement enough to spark Willow into motion. She sprung from the floor and tackled him with a flying leap. She landed on top and drew back her fist. Angel didn't try to stop her as her hand connected hard with his jaw.

The slapping sound of flesh-on-flesh fed Willow's demon. Her soul had been flung aside effortlessly, and was now cowering in the deep recess of her mind. Her monster was in complete control.

Angel admitted that the Annointed One had created a strong opponent. She was definitely stronger than Buffy, and even a bit stronger than himself. But what Angel lacked in strength, he made up in skill.

Willow's wild swings didn't make too much of an impact, as she lacked the training behind them. Angel allowed her to claw freely for a bit, then pushed her off until they were both standing. Willow circled him, the wild look in her eyes slightly unnerving the older man.

After a few rounds of full sparring, Willow began to realize that this foe wasn't going to lose easily. Restless and young, she began to look for different prey. She violently shoved Angel aside and stalked towards the door. Willow felt powerful, as if she could destroy half of Italy in a single night.

Seeing her plan, Angel rushed her from behind and tackled her. "Oh, no you don't!"

Beneath him Willow squirmed. She was determined not to let him spoil her first night out. She beat at his chest and face, but Angel quickly grabbed both her wrists and held them secure.

"Let go of me!" She screamed. Her soul was too scared and too numb to fight. Willow's demon had complete control. Angel again apologized and shifted her hands into his one fist. He grimaced and held onto her hair. Drawing her head towards him, Angel slammed the back of her head into the tile floor. Not enough to hurt her, he was careful of that, just enough to knock her unconscious.

Willow fell limp instantly, and Angel collapsed on top of her. After a moment, he rolled off her and moved away, not wanting to look at her. He was ashamed. He was guilty. He was afraid she'd never forgive him. Part of him rationalized what he'd done. True, it was necessary for her training. Even Giles' agreed.

< But she'd been so scared. > His conscience reminded. That was what hurt him most of all. Besides that fact that he'd hit her. Besides the fact that he knocked her unconscious in front of their door. The fact that he'd forced her to confront her fears and nightmares head on, without much warning, hurt him the most.

Angel's head was cloudy. He couldn't think straight. He'd been waging his own inner battle the entire time. But, as he was used to, he shoved his guilt and confusion aside and focused on a bigger problem.

Turning around, he crawled back to Willow. Her face was once again peaceful, and Angel knew her soul was back in command of her body. He gathered her limp form in his arms and headed for the bedroom.
 

~Part: 5~

Long before her eyes would open and her mouth would function, Willow's brain was working overtime.  Her initial feeling was that of confusion. However, after a few moments of paralyzed panic, she began to calm down.  Still unable to open her eyes, Willow did a quick body check.

< Nothing broken, > she thought. < Laying down...no sounds, so I'm not in a hospital.  Something cool on my head.  Oh, head hurts.  A lot! > Willow squeezed her eyelids tightly, willing herself to wake up.

< Wait! > She stopped. < I'm laying down, but where am I? > She did another body check.  It took a moment to realize that she was laying on bed, but that she was not alone. < Angel. >

Her mind spun in a panic. < Oh God! Did I–?  Did we–?  Ow! Head still hurts... Okay, calm down, Will.  What's the last thing you remember? > She asked herself. < Ok...um...I was with Angel, and we were talking. No...we were arguing.  Something about learning to fight.  And then he hit me.  And I– >

"Oh God!"  Willow found her voice as her confusion cleared and memories came flooding back.

She shot up in bed, ignoring the searing pain the movement sent to her brain.

"Willow?"  Angel reached out and tentatively touched her shoulder.  Unwilling to look at him, Willow gasped and jerked away.  She was mortified.  She remembered everything.  She remembered attacking Angel, and clawing at his face.  She remembered heading for the door, intent on draining the entire city.

She sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over and shaking fiercely.  Her memories terrified her.  Panic reigned once again.  In her mind, like a sick mantra, the voice of her soul echoed over and over: ‘What have I done?'

Cautiously, Angel slid himself across the bed towards her.  "Willow..." He lowered his voice in an attempt to soothe her, but she was too far gone.

"No!"  She screamed.  "Stay away from me!  Don't touch me, I'm a monster."  She covered her face with her hands, her hair falling forward.

Angel's shoulders slumped.  "Oh, Willow...you're not a monster.  I am, for putting you through this."

"No," she was adamant.  "You only showed me what was there all along."

"I know what you're going through.  Believe me, this will get easier." His intent was pure, but the words were not what Willow wanted to hear.

"Get easier?"  She screamed, turning to look at him through tear-blind eyes.  "It won't get easier, Angel.  This will never get any easier! I'm going to live my life like this.  A freak!  That's what we are, Angel.  Freaks!"  Her words were biting, and born of self-hatred.

Angel looked into her eyes and found a terrifying sight: himself.  The words Willow spoke were identical to the ones he'd said to himself so many times before.

They sat, perched on the edge of something greater than both of them. Emotions hummed in the air.  Guilt.  Grief.  Horror.  Sadness.

Angel watched as the emotions played themselves across Willow's delicate features.  He'd dealt with the same ones for over a hundred years, yet he couldn't find the words needed to calm her.  Chastising himself for not knowing what to do, he reached out to her.  "Willow..."

She jumped away, as if his hand held a deadly poison.  The sudden movement sparked something inside her.  Willow quickly jumped off the bed and stumbled out the door.

"It's not fair!"  She yelled, throwing herself down the hallway.  "I didn't ask for this! I didn't want this!  My life was stolen from me! And I want it back!"

Angel was a few steps behind when he realized where she was heading.

With an air of grim determination, Willow stalked into the living room and headed for the weaponry.  She flung the chest top open and reached blindly inside.

Willow didn't hesitate a second, eager to finish what she'd started so many weeks ago.  Gripping the smooth wood in her hand, she turned.

Coming into the room, Angel's world instantly switched to slow motion. Memories pounded through his brain.  She'd been so scared then, but he never believed she would have gone through with it.  He'd reached her before she had a chance to say her goodbyes.  He'd held her while she cried.  He'd assured her everything would be okay.  And she had believed him.

Now she was making the attempt again.  Only this time, Angel knew, she wouldn't falter.

A searing pain tore through his heart and a knot gripped his stomach when he saw her.  Angel knew the emotion.  Love.  He was just now understanding that his feelings for Willow went beyond that of protective friend.

It was in that instant, that flash of time, that Angel realized he couldn't lose her.  Solid visions refused to form, but distinct impressions of a future alone left a brand on his mind.  They'd gone through so much, in so little time.  But it had changed him forever. She had changed him forever.

And just as quickly, he faced losing her forever.

"Willow, no!"  He rushed forward with inhuman speed.

"Stay back!"  She ordered, turning away from him.

Wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace, Angel grasped the stake.  He attempted to pry it from her hands, but she was too strong. He was, however, able to stop her from impaling herself.

"Let me go." She struggled to break free.  "Let me go, God damnit!  I'm a monster.  I want to die."

"I want to die!"  She began to wail, and soon the struggling ceased. Her body stiffened with sobs too fierce to release.

Once she stopped struggling, Angel easily unwrapped her fingers from the stake, and flung it across the room.  He brought his arms back around her and held on for dear life.

Shaking, Willow slowly fell to her knees.  Maintaining his hold on her, Angel followed her to the floor.

He sat with her for the length of her cry, all the while murmuring soothing sounds in her ear.  He stroked her hair and rocked softly until she began to calm.

When it seemed like she could follow thoughts coherently, Angel began to speak:

"Willow, listen to me.  All these feelings.  All this emotion, it's normal.  It's understandable.  When I got my soul back, I went through the same thing.  You have to trust me.  I know it's unimaginable now, but this will get easier.  That I swear.  I don't know how else to tell you, and I know you don't want to believe me, but you can.  You know you can trust me, and I would never lie to you about something like this."

She said nothing.  Angel saw no indication that she would try to believe him.

However, through the haze of tumbled emotion, she clung to his every word.  Like an anchor to reality, her heart told her to trust him.  He would make it better.  He always did.  Her strong, steady Angel.

She always felt safer in his arms.  She always found comfort in his voice.  Willow truly believed, that if the entire world were to crumble at her feet, Angel would still be there to guide her out of the rubble.

"In a way, I'm a little envious of you."  His words brought her back to reality.  "See, Willow, you're lucky.  Yes, you're a vampire with a soul, but, before you were changed, you were pure.  You were good, honest Willow Rosenberg.  Your conscience is clear, and that, Willow, is what will save you."

She sniffled and shifted in his embrace.  "But, I'm so scared,"  She began quietly in a hoarse voice.  "I'm afraid that I'll go into a battle and lose control.  Like I did tonight.  Only...only no one will be able to stop me, and I'll kill someone.  I've had those thoughts before. Back in Sunnydale, before we left...I..."

"I know," he shushed her.

Willow continued.  "You haven't been able to find the Romany.  And now with this whole vision thing, we probably won't be able to.  What if, every time I have these cravings, I lose my soul a little more?"

Angel cleared his throat.  Her question was plain and pointed, and he didn't have a solid answer.  "I'm taking you, tomorrow, to see a man I know, a priest.  I know he's not a Rom, but he may be able to help us. A blessing, a prayer, something to help anchor your soul.  That, along with the training, should be enough to teach you to control your demon.Don't worry, Willow, I won't put you in a position where you might harm someone until you're able to maintain control."

She smiled, turning to look up at him.  Her eyes, for once, were full of hope.  "Do you really think it'll work?"

"I can't promise you anything.  But I hope so."

Willow reached her small hand up to his face; her gentle fingers sadly tracing his cheek.  Long claw marks swelled brightly, but showed signs of healing.  She covered the scars with her hand and absently added her own prayer to Angel's words.  "So do I."
 

~Part: 6~

Angel silently held the heavy, oak door open for her.  Bowing her head in thanks, Willow stepped into the church.  Though the lobby was dark, a warm glow spilled out of a nearby doorway.

Peering around the side of the opening, Willow's eyes widened in amazement.  She'd only been in a church once before, years ago, for Xander's cousin's wedding.  But what she thought was beautiful then, paled in comparison to this ancient Italian church.

What seemed like a thousand candles lit the spacious chapel.  Large stained glass windows depicted the plights of saintly figures.  Rows of pews lined up before a mighty cross hanging over the alter.  White flowers flanked every table and chair.

Willow had never seen anything quite like it.  She imagined this was what seeing the Sistine Chapel was like.   The exquisite beauty was staggering and overwhelming.  She hung in the doorway, half afraid to enter the holy space, half paralyzed by the wonder of such beauty.

Angel approached behind her.  "Go ahead.  You can walk in."

Willow turned her awe-struck eyes to him and smiled.  She stepped inside tentatively, afraid of disturbing the peacefulness.

"We're a bit early, so why don't you look around."  Angel gently prodded her inside.  "There's something I have to do first anyway."

Willow heard his words, but was unaware of his leaving her side.  Her shoes echoed around the great room and she made her way towards the pews.

Gazing at the walls, statues of angels and saints looked down at her sadly.  Willow was struck by their expressions.  She almost believed the marble figures knew her soul was troubled.

Approaching the front altar, Willow noticed the large pipes of an unseen organ.  She could almost hear the notes vibrating through the church.

Standing directly before the great cross, Willow gazed up into the face of Catholisisms' Lord.  The trip over from the apartment had been a quiet time.  Willow suspected that church was something very sacred to Angel, judging by his brooding mood.  However, she was thankful for the silence.

She wondered if she was doing the right thing.  Though not highly religious, Willow was born and raised under the Jewish faith.  She knew nothing of Jesus Christ and his teachings.  How could something she didn't believe in possibly help her?  And was this wrong to go against everything she had been taught?

But Angel had explained why a priest may help her more than a rabbi. He'd told her that vampires were the antithesis of everything good and holy.  Some believed they were the devil's servants.  Other's believed that the undead were fallen angels, damned to walk the earth forever in sin.  This unnaturalness conflicted with everything natural and holy about religion.

Willow understood that a priest's blessing and teaching could be the only weapon against her demon.  Yet she still felt a twinge of guilt from seemingly turning her back on her own religion.  Looking over the cross again, Willow sighed.  Seeing no sign of Angel or the priest, she took a seat in a front pew.

                        *    *     *

After guiding Willow into the chapel, Angel moved away into a separate section of the church.  Approaching a doorway, he pulled a heavy curtain aside and ducked into the small room.  The only light resonated from hundreds of small votive candles lined up against a wall.

Angel paused, staring at the wall of remembrance.  He came to church quite often; sometimes to speak with Father Benelli, other times simply to meditate and reflect.  However, Angel always made time for this.

Since the Romany cursed the vampire with a soul, he'd lived with the memory of every living thing he'd ever hurt.  All the humans he'd tasted and drained.  All the women he'd forced himself on...

Every cry, every plead, every final scream echoed in his head as a constant reminder.  Most faces swarm together, forming a hybrid of death, however some faces stood out clearly...faces of those he loved, faces of those who trusted him...  His parent's faces.  His sister's face...  Angel was careful never to allow the guilt to escape his mind and his heart.  He didn't deserve to sleep peacefully.  He needed to remember.  He needed to commemorate...

Standing before the sea of fire, Angel reached for a stick.  Gingerly igniting the tip, he brought the light to an empty candle.  "For those who have suffered, and those who have died at my own hands." Angel solemnly lit the candle and continued his silent prayer.  As always, tears of guilt and grief welled in his throat.

He finished his oath to remember and looked up.  His ritual was the same.  Light the candle, say the prayer and vow to remember.  He lifted his palm to the gold-covered cross hovering above the table.

Without flinching, Angel covered the cross with his hand.  He bit back the urge to hiss in pain.  After a moment, he removed his hand and looked at the red scar.  Running his fingers over the hot spot, Angel muttered to himself, "I must not forget."

                                *   *    *

Willow was only vaguely aware of Angel's presence at her side.  She was completely absorbed in watching the action before her.  Father Ronaldo Benelli had emerged from his chambers and now scuttled around the alter, preparing for the next day's services.

The aged priest glanced at the front pew and realized that Angel had joined his young companion. Making the sign of the cross, he backed away from the altar, then turned and smiled.

"Angel!"  He reached for the vampire.  "How long has it been?"

"Too long, Father,"  Angel greeted.  "How are you?"

"Doing well, thank you." Father Benelli responded.

Willow observed the two friends with wonder.  Yet again, Angel had amazed her.  He spoke with the priest in unflawed Italian and perfect respect.  He was able to address the priest comfortably as a friend, yet maintain the honored separation between congregant and spiritual leader.

The two men traded pleasantries for a moment before turning their attention to the quiet red-head.

"Willow?"  Angel reached out his hand.  Willow rose and faced the priest.  She was surpised, once she stood next to him, at how diminutive he was.  He carried himself so well, she'd almost expected to find him towering over her.  "I'd like you to meet Father Ronaldo Benelli. Father Benelli, may I introduce Miss Willow Rosenberg."

Unsure of how to greet the priest, Willow waited to follow his lead.Sensing her discomfort, Father Benelli smiled and offered her his hand. "It is a pleasure to finally meet.  Angel speaks so highly of you." Despite the thick accent, his English was impeccable.

"I've taken the liberty of filling Father Benelli in on your situation."  Angel said, gesturing to Willow.

She blinked.  Angel had told her that Father Benelli was a trusted friend who knew all about Angel's nocturnal existence.  But she wondered just how much he had told him.  Her last name was a bit of a give-away on her background, but she hoped Angel didn't share her reservations on talking to a priest.

Father Benelli gestured for them to sit and paused to contemplate his next words.  "Miss Rosenberg...Willow, I understand that this is not your born faith.  I imagine you may have some qualms about any kind of rituals or blessings.  Has Angel explained to you about vampires and Catholicism?"

Willow nodded.  For some reason, a knot of emotion had lodged itself in her throat.  She knew talking would be difficult, and hoped she didn't have to answer any questions.

"Good.  Then you understand about natural versus unnatural?"

Again, Willow nodded.

The priest sensed her discomfort, and turned in his seat to face her head on.  He reached out and gently took her tiny hands in his frail ones.

"Willow, I realize that you are afraid for your soul.   You fear that the farther you stray from the path of goodness, the more likely your soul is to leave you.  However, because you were not taken by choice, your soul has remained in your body.  Because your heart is pure, and because you believe in all that is good, your soul will never leave you."

Father Benelli paused, attempting to gauge Willow's understanding. "Does that make sense to you?"

Willow suddenly found interest in her fingers.  She understood what the priest was saying. However, his words were of little comfort.  Just being told she didn't have to worry wasn't enough.  The priest could talk all night, but Willow didn't feel it would make a difference.

Father Benelli collected himself and his thoughts.  He took his time, choosing his words carefully.

Staring intently at the slight woman, head bowed, before him, Father Benelli changed plans.  "I can see you don't believe me...or believe in yourself.  There is something that might set your heart at ease... Come, my children."  He extended his hand to Willow and motioned Angel to follow.

Leading them to the front alter, the priest instructed them to wait while he disappeared into the back.

"Angel?"  Willow asked tentatively.  She looked at him unsure.

He reached out and took her hand in his own, bringing it to his lips. His thumb attempted to rub away her fears, while his eyes assured her she would be okay.

Father Benelli appeared before them once more, this time carrying a book and a tall candelabra.  Three unlit candles stood before the pair.  The man recited a prayer in old Latin and lit the two outside candles.  He looked at Willow and Angel with his arms spread.

"Alone we cannot stand against the forces that aim to bring us down. Together we can conquer and survive.  Willow, may you find inspiration in the pureness of Angel's heart and soul. May you take comfort in his strength and trust that he will shield you from harm."

Willow smiled at this.  This is what she needed.  Something solid, something. . .concrete.

Father Benelli turned his attention to the old vampire before him. "Angel, may you use your experience and wisdom to ensure this soul's safety.  May you find courage in her strength and reason in her heart."

He turned his attention back to the candles and motioned for each to take one.  "There is an ancient ceremony. . . a candle lighting ceremony that binds two people. . . two souls into one."

Angel started for the center candle, as Willow suddenly understood the ritual.  She looked at her companion with question in her eyes.  Angel returned her gaze steadily and seriously, releasing all doubt she carried about his feelings.

The two candles met in the ancient marriage ritual, lighting the center one.  All stared in a blessed silence, watching the flame grow and flicker.  Returning her gaze to Angel, Willow effortlessly blew out her single light.  Smiling at her, Angel used an old trick to summon the breath to extinguish his candle.

They returned the unlit sticks to their places and turned their attention back to the smiling priest.  Sensing their readiness to continue and desire for closure, Father Benelli motioned for them to bow their heads.

He raised his palms over the two soulful creatures before him and closed his own eyes.  "May the Spirit guide you. May the Spirit follow you and lead you to the path of righteousness. May He bless your journey. May He strengthen your wills and your courage. May you find your way with with love, and may you arrive safely in His grace. We ask this..."

Angel spoke his "amen" aloud, while Willow whispered hers beneath her breath.  She stood, head bowed, absorbing the Father's words.  Her heart was full and her conscience eased.  The simple ceremony and prayer were enough for Willow to find the courage.  Her soul wouldn't abandon her. As long as she stayed pure in heart and mind, her soul would be constant.

< And if I do falter, > she thought. < I know someone will be there to catch me. > She looked up to find Angel watching her, waiting for her response.

Smiling, Willow reached for his hand and squeezed it firmly.  The two shared a silent moment of revelry, before turning to Father Benelli.

"Father, thank you for your guidance and blessings.  I only hope we can live up to your faith."  Angel spoke graciously.

"My children, the courage is in you.  You just needed a little light." The priest winked at his old friend and embraced him, saying goodbye.

"Willow."  Father Benelli opened his arms to the young woman, which she gladly walked into.  He leaned back, placing his palms on either side of her pale face.  "No matter what you say, or who you say it to. . . someone is always listening.  You should never doubt that."

She nodded solemly, accepting the priest's words.

"And take care of this guy," he added merrily, breaking the somber mood.

Willow accepted Angel's hand and turned to walk down the aisle.  She strained to suppress a giggle when the words "Morbid Wedding" danced through her mind.

Nearly skipping through the church, Willow looked back at the statues and figures that had appeared so sad to her.  The stone eyes now shone with understanding and love.  All the eyes in the church, glass, stone or real, told Willow that she truly would be okay.

Angel smiled inwardly, noticing the bounce in her step and smile on her face.  He'd asked Father Benelli to say something, or do something to ease her worries.  They both knew that nothing would prevent Willow's soul from leaving.  It was all up to her.  If she believed she could stay good and decent, then she would.  All she needed was something she could turn to in those moments of doubt.

Stepping outside into the cool night, Willow drew in a deep breath.  She closed her eyes and welcomed the breeze on her cheeks.  She was giddy and relaxed.  She wanted to run up and down the streets of Italy, shouting her happiness.  All thoughts of the Annointed One and the battle ahead momentarily disappeared.  She allowed pure emotion to take over.

A low, male chuckled interrupted her thoughts.  She whirled, beckoning Angel to join her happiness.  Running forward, Willow nearly leapt into his arms, wrapping herself around him in joy.

< What's wrong with you?  Why are you so happy? > Willow asked herself through the cloud of emotion.

< Because! > Her soul answered.

Willow smiled. < Good enough! >

Angel set her back on the pavement and looked into her face.  She was glowing.  She was happy and content for possibly the first time since the change.

Normally he would walk home in silence, analyzing the change in Willow. . . the acceptance of her new life.  However, his thoughts were clouded by something else.  Something he didn't think he'd feel again.

When Father Benelli performed the Wedding ritual, Angel felt an overwhelming sense of rightness.  It was natural.   Taking Willow as a companion for life made perfect sense to him.  He wondered if she'd felt the same. . .

Reaching their front steps, Willow pulled back and stopped Angel.  She turned him to face her and took in a breath.

"Thank you, Angel." She stated simply.  "Thank you for helping me and knowing exactly what I needed.  You've been more than a friend to me, and I don't know where I'd be without you.  No–that's not true.  I know where I'd be.  Gone.  Thank you for giving me something to live for."

She wasn't sure her point was being made.  She owed so much to this man.  A million thanks and a hundred explanations wouldn't assure her that he'd understand.

Instead of waiting for his reaction, Willow perched on her tiptoes and brought her mouth to his.  Outside, she couldn't believe she was being so bold.  Inside. . .she realized how much she'd been looking forward to kissing those lips.

Angel carefully kissed her back, straining to bind his passion.  He would love to wrap himself around her and cover her with kisses.  He'd be perfectly content lifting her in his arms and carrying her into their apartment.  But he understood how big of a step this was for the quiet hacker.  The simplicity of the kiss and the grandeur of the gesture was more than enough to satisfy Angel.

Reluctantly breaking off, they stared at each other for a moment, each trying to gauge the other's reaction.  Angel was the first to smile.  A movement which immediately eased Willow.

Letting out a breath, she slid her hand in his and allowed herself to be led inside.

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