E-MAIL: Ciderbreak@aol.com
SERIES: Path Less Traveled #12
DISCLAIMER: Joss, not I. No infringement implied. Not for profit.
DISTRIBUTION: Charity's site, FoF, my website.
THANKS TO: Nita and Danielle who prevented a very possible writer's block.
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Angel slept long and hard and dream-free for the first time in a month and when he awoke, a rush of grateful tears flooded his eyes and he wiped them away with one hand. He sat up in bed and looked expectantly over to Willow's bed, hoping she would be there to share in his elation. The dreams were gone. No more witnessing the Slayer's death in a fiery inferno every night was a call for celebration and Willow would celebrate at the drop of a hat. Not like Doyle, who went down to the pub on the slightest provocation, but truly celebrate whatever joy it was that he could eke out of his miserable penance.
Willow's bed was made, the coverlet pulled up over her sheets and the afghan neatly folded and stretched across the foot of the bed. Her pillows were plumped up and artfully arranged at the head with a worn brown teddy bear smack dab in the center. She must be at class, Angel reasoned and got out of bed and stripped off his silk boxers, content to be alone as he made his way into the kitchen for breakfast and then into the bathroom for a long, hot shower.
To his utter amazement, Willow stood slack-jawed and blurry-eyed in front of the only mirror in the apartment, a small 5 x 5 piece of mirrored glass in a brass frame that hung over the towel rack. A green towel was wrapped around her body but her hair was wet and wild, curls and waves uncombed and clumping around her face, dripping onto her neck and wetting the top of the towel as she looked into the mirror with wide and frightened eyes.
Angel yelped and grabbed a towel off the rack to cover himself but she hadn't even noticed his presence. He knotted the towel and waved a hand in front of her face, calling her name.
Willow dimly heard Angel call her name, barely aware of him shaking her shoulder. She was entranced in what she saw in the small mirror. Inside the glass she relived the Fear dream Karl had subjected to her all those months ago, the vision where she and Angel made love with a non-storybook ending. Angel pounded into her again and again, each time smiling cruelly and calling Buffy's name when he came. Then the dream would rewind and start to play again. Willow couldn't turn away, couldn't cry out for help. Was this Karl's doing or was it a prison of her own making? Was she awake or dreaming? No, she must be awake. She remembered making her bed, eating breakfast, and packing up her books to go on campus and study until her one o'clock class, remembered showering and then wiping fog away from the mirror and then the vision hit her.
Angel got a little scared. He felt himself vamping out in response to the loss of control and shook her harder but she remained fixed on whatever she saw in that tiny mirror. He looked in and saw nothing but her stricken reflection staring into oblivion. Finally, out of desperation since calling her name and shaking her wasn't working, Angel punched his fist through the mirror and drew it back cut and bloody, cursing himself for the drama. He probably could have just unhooked it from the wall or covered it with a towel, but if she was trapped in something supernatural she'd have to really be set free. So he swore and picked a shard of glass out of his hand, moving to the sink to wash the blood away. When he turned off the faucet, Willow wrapped a towel around his hand and looked up at him resentfully.
"You'll never do that to me, do you understand?" she said, a breath away from screaming. Her eyes were filled with a fury he had never seen, not even back in Sunnydale.
"Do what? Willow, do what?" Angel said, the cuts on his hand stinging in protest.
She brushed past him angrily, clutching the towel to her chest. He followed her, confused.
"Turn around," she commanded imperiously, clothes in hand.
Angel turned his back and wondered what was going on. Was it just some sort of girl hormonal thing? If so, how quickly could he leave?
"I heard that, you coward," Willow spat, yanking on her panties and reaching for her bra. Both were made of white cotton, practical and unadorned. She left the mindspeech highway wide open so he could feel her anger, unaware he didn't know its source. She figured he saw what she did in the mirror.
"Willow, what's wrong? What's going on?" Angel asked. He realized he was still in game face and calmed down, switched back to his human visage. If they were going to have a fight, there was no way he would press his advantage with vampiric strength or intimidation.
"Yeah, like you don't know."
"I don't."
"Oh, so you think that's okay? That's how it's gonna be? You rutting like an animal and screaming her name while I just lay back and take it? Well I don't think so! No! In fact, HELL no! Look at me when I'm yelling at you!"
Angel turned around, now more confused than ever. Willow seemed to forget she was only wearing underwear as she continued to rail at him.
"You're done running this show, do you understand me? I know you're still in love with her and frankly, I don't care. Get over it, Angel! She's not coming back. But the Powers have offered you companionship and love and even pleasure on a silver platter and you're treating it like its expendable. Well, it's not. I'm not. I feel really bad that you've been having nightmares and I can have patience and compassion, but if you think you can just stand there and take me for granted for the rest of eternity then you better get a new game plan. Because there is no way I will ever, ever go to bed with you knowing you're just going to use me and throw me away like I'm nothing."
"What did you see in that mirror?" Angel managed to ask. He'd never seen her so livid.
"You- you didn't see it?" she asked, turning pale.
"No. I just saw your reflection. You were completely entranced." Angel held up his towel-wrapped hand to remind her.
"I saw what Karl showed me that night. The vision he used to try and make me leave you. You didn't see it?"
"What exactly did you see?" Angel asked. Finally, he'd know what she refused to describe to him.
"We were- we were making love, and you didn't care about my pleasure at all. You treated me like a whore and then when you came you looked right in my eyes and called me Buffy."
"Willow, I would never-" Angel started, horrified.
"Damn straight. Look, Angel, I know there's some sort of attraction between us, and I don't know how much of it is the bond and how much is real. But I'm not going to give you the chance to treat me like chattel, do you hear me? Go do some soul-searching and get Buffy out of your system, because I can't take this anymore. I'm the one you're spending your life with, not Buffy. And until you get out of denial land, I don't want you touching me. In any way."
Angel dropped the hand that reached towards her and slowly nodded. Her words made sense but he still couldn't believe she was saying them. Her mind screamed the same words at him, only with a little more swearing and a little less diplomacy. He wondered if she was doing that on purpose or if she'd truly forgotten they were linked right now.
Willow continued dressing, throwing on a dress and slipping into socks and sneakers. Angel stood silently, a little stunned.
"You think I'm controlling?" he ventured. Willow laughed bitterly.
"Look around you. How much of this apartment looks like me? Who always calls the shots? Who decides what car I drive, where we go, what we do, when we celebrate, when we research, when we talk? If I didn't have college to focus on I'd go insane trying to live up to your impossible standards, Angel. The only place I can be myself is when I'm alone and you always intrude on me, if not physically then in my head. This bond didn't just happen to you, you know, it happened to me. And there are some days I'd stake you just to get you to shut up."
"Well, tell me how you really feel," Angel said with a devilish smile that infuriated her as much as it twisted her stomach into a pleasant knot.
"I hate that you assume I'm going to be attracted to you."
"You are."
"I know, but you don't have to be so arrogant about it. I just want to be your equal, Angel. But most of all, I hate being second best to Buffy. I love her, and I know what you two had was incredibly special, but it wasn't once in a lifetime. It can't be, not when you get to live several hundred lifetimes. You say you want me to confide in you, say you want to be friends, and let your guard down occasionally when we're tired, you've even kissed me."
"You kissed me right back," Angel reminded her.
"Yeah, but Angel…" Willow paused, took her book bag, and walked over to the stairs before having the last word. She looked right at him, her steely gaze matching any look he could give her. "I am no man's consolation prize."