E-MAIL: Ciderbreak@aol.com
SERIES: Path Less Traveled #13.
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon and the WB own all BTVS characters. No infringement implied.
DISTRIBUTION: Charity, FoF, My website.
THANKS: To everyone who is still reading this series and still liking it. I am having an absolute blast writing it!
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Angel had news to share.
His shoes made a loud clicking sound as he walked the narrow corridor towards the main library at UCLA. The campus was huge, but Willow could usually be found either in one of the biology labs or in "her" corner of the library, a dusty place up in the stacks that had a little window and some squishy armchairs. No one knew about it and Angel had often located her in the "nook" reading or just staring out the window, daydreaming.
The library was beautiful, lots of windows and plenty of lighting. Artwork adorned the walls and the floors were carpeted in different colors depending on the category of books in the stacks. Willow enjoyed going to a place so large she could get lost and no one would notice. Besides, it was great for catnaps.
The smell of books soothed his electric nerves. Everything felt edgy, from his black and purple outfit to the full moon, to the implications of his news.
He rounded the corner and felt his feet meet industrial carpeting. The nook was a few steps up and around a bookcase, and Angel burst in on the scene quietly but urgently. He needed her attention.
Someone else had Willow's attention at that moment.
She was sitting on the lap of some boy her age, her arms wound around his neck and her legs draped over the arm of the chair. They were making out and had been for some time, Angel realized, as the boy's hand was hidden underneath her sweater, moving lightly over her chest.
Willow stopped kissing the boy on the mouth and moved down his neck, sucking and nibbling lightly as his hand roved down her side, down her leg, and under her flowing skirt. They both looked like they knew what they were doing and Angel's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. Seeing Willow attached to the guy's neck was too much and he growled possessively.
The couple in the chair stopped making out and looked at him.
"Friend of yours?" the boy asked, kissing Willow's nose.
"That's Angel," she told him. "Hi, Angel."
"I guess I'll see you later then," the boy said reluctantly, shifting Willow off his lap and hastily pulling his backpack over his groin to hide the evidence of his desire. "Bye, Will." Angel growled louder as he scurried away.
All Angel wanted to do was drain the boy. Would that be too much to ask?
"That's Jason," Willow said a little dreamily. "We met in biology lab. He's really nice."
Angel was truly at a loss for words. He'd never been this jealous! There'd been a brief moment when Buffy was being chummy with Xander, but he was quickly reassured because he knew Buffy loved him. He had no such assurance from Willow. Yeah, she'd said the words, but then spent the entire month of April on his case about one thing or another, making him mad on a daily basis until he didn't know whether to strangle her or kiss her senseless. Evidently, someone else had been doing a pretty good job of the latter, judging by her flushed face.
Okay, so drain Jason, and then come back and show Willow what a real man kissed like.
As Angel contemplated this rational course of action, Willow had straightened her clothing and gathered up her books.
"Are we home bound?" she asked, as though he hadn't just barged in on her romantic encounter. "Is that why you're here?"
"No, I have news. Sit back down, it's about Doyle."
Willow plopped back down in the chair and as she did so, Angel picked up on the new scents attached to her. He smelled something that could only be her desire, as well as the light raspberry body lotion he'd sniffed in the bathroom that morning. The new, renovated, large bathroom with a huge mirror and a sunken tub with little jets.
"Are you dating him?" Angel had to ask. He knew he sounded jealous and Willow knew it too, but mercifully didn't rub it in.
"No, we're just friends."
"Oh."
"You and I are just friends and we've kissed," Willow reasoned.
[ Yeah, but I didn't get to feel you up ] Angel thought rapidly at her. The mindspeech was locked down, though, so she didn't catch the thought. Damn. Now he was really put out.
"So…?" she said.
"Right. There's been another death by a guy who looked like the men who killed Doyle and Grayson. Witnesses to the attack saw him talking to a very tall woman right before it happened, but she was nowhere to be seen when the event went down. I've talked with Kate, and she's agreed to give me as much information as she can. They think it's some sort of ritualistic cult."
"What do you think?" Willow asked excitedly. Finally, some new information!
"I think they've got the ritual part right. And I agree with Amanda that there is some sort of possession going on. We know what the killer looks like right before he kills, and there have been two instances of very tall women being involved, and then there's missing Aunt Linda."
"You think she's behind it?"
"No. I've seen pictures of her and she's not that tall. Besides, Grayson was her favorite nephew. I doubt she'd put him in the line of fire. She may be involved but she's not the amazon woman Doyle talked about."
"So what do we do now?"
"We research. Anything about Amazons, ritualistic cults, possession for murderous means, cross referenced with the visual descriptions. I called Giles and he's agreed to send us any texts we need that I don't have."
Willow nodded in agreement and stretched, preparing to leave. Angel looked as mad as a wet cat in heat and she almost smiled, catching herself just in time. Wouldn't kill him to suffer a little of the green monster. She just wouldn't tell him that she wished it had been him kissing her in the chair, feeling her body and enjoying it.
Yeah.
End Part 1
"Diannca, Diaspora, Dien, Dierdren, Difstinway… aHA! Dirklin."
"You found it?" Angel asked incredulously. Finding Scott Dirklin was not as easy as letting their fingers do the walking. The man-at least they assumed he was human, but maybe not-surfed through the different dimensions in a totally careless beach bum way. He was a drifter and a skank, but the upside was he knew just about everyone in the LA Underground, mythical creatures, demons, monsters, evil or benevolent. Willow had to steal Frank Winter's address book to get the last known phone number for the dimensional surfer dude and pray it was listed.
"Well, he might not be at this number anymore," Willow pointed out. "You said he was a drifter."
"Just give it a try," Angel prodded. They were in the beginning stages of research, taking the people route before holing up with the books. Willow still wore her flowing skirt and fitted sweater, but Angel had changed into a black button down shirt and sweatpants, hoping to work in a little relaxing tai chi if things got too tense or frustrating.
No one picked up the phone at the other end of the line, but Willow left a very polite message on the answering machine and hoped he'd call back. If anyone knew a giant Amazon woman hiding in any world, dimension, plateau or sewer, it would be Scott Dirklin.
"He's a good lead," Angel said encouragingly when Willow hung up the phone. "I'm sure we can convince him to talk if he knows anything."
"Oh, he knows a hell of a lot more than you two," came a mocking voice from the bottom of the stairs. Angel had a knife in his hand before the sentence was finished and Willow just screamed in fright. "Relax, I'm unarmed."
Scott Dirklin sauntered over to Angel and stuck out his hand. He wore tight cut off jeans and a sleeveless white t-shirt under a plaid button down. He wore his Abercrombie and Fitch hat backwards and pulled a few tufts of bleached blond hair through the hole. He was tanned, muscled, gorgeous to look at, and knew it.
"Scott Dirklin. You called?"
"Angel. You're a space bender?"
"Space, time, dimensions, plateaus, history, you name it, I can surf it."
"Internet?" Willow goaded him. She instantly and vehemently disliked him. He was like all the cocky jerks in high school who thought they were God's gift to the female race, only Scott was worse because his prowess wasn't limited to the one race.
"Heh. Sassy girl you got there, Angel. Yeah, I'm good online. Wanna cyber?" he leered, receiving a punch to the gut for his troubles.
"Watch yourself," Angel said in a low, warning voice, his eyes glinting yellow but his face staying impassive and cool. Scott's eyebrows raised but he did not appear threatened. He appeared vastly offended, but not threatened. Winking at Willow, he casually leaned against a support beam and spoke to her directly.
"So, you need my help. Looking for a good counselor to manage a domestic trouble? I suggest Frank Winter. He'll totally excuse the fact that you're fucking a vampire."
This time Scott found his ears pounding with a roar so loud he thought a plane crashed into the building and his body flew across the room with one sweep of Angel's hand.
"Holy shit!" he swore. "Come on, I was kidding! Everyone knows you two aren't going at it."
Angel was after him in a flash, closing his hand around the boy's throat and pressing him down to the linoleum. Now he was in full vamp face, mean and snarling and showing lots of teeth.
"You will speak respectfully to Willow or I'll kill you with my bare hands, do you understand me?"
Scott nodded, gurgling a little, and Angel released him. They walked back over to Willow and Scott took off his hat.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I like to tease."
"That's better, "Angel conceded. "Now, drop the rude boy act and I think we can come to a deal of sorts. We need information."
"Okay, I can do that," Scott said warily. "It'll cost you." He surreptitiously looked around the apartment, judging what the couple could afford for his trouble. It was a dingy place, but the kitchen looked new and there were expensive weapons, books, and art scattered here and there. Also, two beds. So, the rumors were true, then. Angel and his life-partner really were simply platonic. Then again, judging by the bruises he would have on his throat in the morning, maybe there was a little more than friendship bubbling in that pot.
"We need to know if you know of any very tall women in the LA area with the power to lure and possess men," Willow said succinctly. "Unnaturally tall, and big. Like a mythical Amazon."
Angel knew Scott had the information by the smug gleam in his frosty blue eyes. Now it was time for the ageless haggling game.
"Maybe," Scott said evenly. It was on the tip of his tongue to offer Angel all his information for an hour alone with Willow in the closet, but he thought better of that proposition. The damn chit wasn't even looking at him, she was entirely focused on her demon not-lover. Angel perched on the back of the couch Willow sat on and protectively rested his hands on her shoulders.
"What do you charge?" Willow asked, as though he was selling fine jewelry.
"Depends on how much you want to know."
"We want to know everything."
"All right. Three thousand for the first bit, and if you like it, five hundred more for the rest of it. And I want that in jewels or art, not cash. Cash is useless to me."
That amount of money was a drop in the bucket to their bank account, but Willow played the part and looked worriedly up at Angel, as if asking his permission.
"Start talking," Angel said ruefully, thinking about which precious items he'd have to part with.
Scott settled in a chair and rested his feet up on the couch next to Willow.
"Get your feet off the couch," she reprimanded him sternly.
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry. Okay, there is a huge woman like the one you describe. Her name is Carol Flox and she works for a television network out here in Glitterland. She's part of an ancient Amazon tribe that used to be peaceful but greedy, and now most of them disguise themselves with amazing glamours and work for high powered executives. Very lucrative."
Angel got up off the couch and took two paintings off the wall. Scott grinned and tucked them into his knapsack before continuing.
"Carol has the power to make men do her will. Lately her will has been murder."
"Murder for malice?" Willow wanted to know. Doyle did have a lot of enemies, after all.
"No. Murder for ritual. The way the victims die is this horrible, asphyxiating death and they get all blue like a Fringe demon before choking to death on their own air. It's easy that way, they can't stand trial. I don't know why she's doing it, but I know she's been successful for a long time."
"Why don't you stop her?" Willow asked.
"That's your boyfriend's job, not mine. I'm just a drifter."
"You're a slacker."
"Yeah, and now I'm a rich one."
"Wait, we're not done." Angel opened a case of raw cut emeralds and selected five, then snapped his palm shut right in front of Scott's nose. "Where can we find her?"
"Same way you found me. Phone book. She lives her life among humans and it's only when she's working her mojo that she loses the glamour. She shouldn't be too hard to find. And remember, she'll do anything for money."
"Like you?" Willow insulted him. Now that they didn't have to be nice to him anymore…
"There are some things I would never do for money," Scott said. "Break up a couple bonded by a maelstrom of truth, for example. Though I bet if you gave me a chance, sweetheart, I could have you screaming my name in less than ten minutes--- okay! Okay, I'm leaving. Thanks for the goods. And hey, if you need my ample services again, you have my number. Later!"
Scott vanished into thin air and Willow let out a small cry of frustration. She unlocked the mindspeech to try and convey her emotion. It had been a long day, first with a biology exam and then this late-breaking news. She wanted Angel to understand her, to make her laugh about this rude visitor. However, his thoughts were unguarded when she unlocked the line of communication, and what she heard had her speak the lock-down spell immediately, blush, and then burst out laughing from sheer exhaustion and nervousness.
"The only man to make you scream will be me," Angel thought possessively as he looked at her.
He didn't understand why she was laughing, but immediately relaxed and joined in. Scott Dirklin. What a character.
End Part 2
Willow's red hair spilled over the russet pillow and gleamed under the lamp light. Angel just stared at her sleeping form, marveling at all the red and golds combined. Her face was pale from stress and lack of sleep but she still looked beautiful to him in an entirely romantic way. Wanting to possess her, body and soul, was a new desire and for the first time Angel did not feel like he was betraying Buffy. He reached out and softly brushed a stray wisp away from her mouth, delighting in her steady, deep breathing and the way she curled her hands up near her face like a child.
Without the benefit of the entire Scooby gang, outlining a plan of attack took a prolonged time. They first inscribed all their clues on poster board and then drew connecting lines between the facts, which weren't plentiful. Then they wrote out things they needed to do, such as investigate Carol Flox and her co-workers, the Amazon cult, the victims and their relationship to Carol, if any, and learn how to stop the plot, once they ascertained what the plot was. The work was arduous and tense and Willow finally called a study break and curled up on the couch.
Angel watched her sleep and realized a revelation. Somewhere between watching her kiss Jason and endure Scott's slimy comments, Angel's heart woke up and he recognized Willow for who she was: a gift of grace from the Powers That Be.
No, it couldn't have been just today. He must have started loving her long before today. But when? When he railed against her presence and tried to make her cry? When he ignored her pain and nearly drove her to suicide? When he begrudgingly offered her friendship? When he wished her out of his life a thousand times?
Doyle was right. He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve any of this and there was no way he could earn it.
"Love you anyway," Willow murmured sleepily. Angel stiffened, guilty for waking her. "Supposed to lock down when I sleep, Angel," she gently reminded him in her sweet-sleepy voice. "I can hear you."
Angel closed his eyes and listened to the whirr of the refrigerator, the hum of the few electric lamps, the distant sound of cars driving past outside their four walls, the ticking of the clock on the bookcase. So many sounds. So many different things to hear.
"What do you hear?" he whispered, sliding onto the leather couch next to her and drawing her head into his lap so he could stroke her hair and watch peace settle over her features. She felt warm and drowsy to him, almost feverish, but that was probably due to the down comforter she'd dragged over herself for the "brief" research break. Willow burrowed into his thigh until she found a soft spot, then curled a hand around his knee.
"I hear you think you don't deserve my love."
"I don't."
"I know you don't. No one deserves this kind of love, Angel, you don't earn it. That's why they call it grace."
For several minutes they both sat in silence, letting the subtle sounds of their home flood their ears alongside a whirlwind of other thoughts. It was confusing and often traumatic to sift through two brains worth of thoughts and ideas, of images and feelings. They usually locked down the mindspeech so they wouldn't divulge too much or hurt each other. Raw thoughts weren't always the best things to convey out loud. But in the quiet of their own home, in the company of books and each other, they let the feelings spin and weave a tapestry of friendship to outshine any work of art.
"Say it," Willow whispered finally.
The words were said in quiet desperation. Angel's heart began to beat in excitement. What began with a tailspin would end with a rush of everything he could no longer deny, no longer lock down or explain away or plain ignore. Willow deserved all of his heart, not just the crumbs he chose to give her.
Willow, who was lying on her side, flipped over onto her back and looked into his dark eyes. One hand came up to lovingly caress his face.
"Say it, Angel."
Now she was anticipatory, breathless, expectant. She knew. She knew everything. Her eyes alighted with the truth, beamed with love and something a little more sultry.
"I love you, Willow." Angel let out a huge breath after he said that, and then repeated the words, smiling like an idiot. Someone had opened a floodgate and let the truth of his heart spill out like so many marbles. "I love you. God, Willow, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love-"
His litany was cut off when Willow pulled his head down and shoved herself up to meet her lips with his in a kiss. He seized her desperately, both to cradle her close and keep her from falling off his lap, as she was precariously balanced. Willow's hands scrabbled to find purchase on his body, the couch, anything to steady herself while his mouth devoured hers in a series of voracious, frantic kisses that made her dizzy and faint from lack of oxygen. He truly was kissing her breathless, Willow realized, right before she fell off onto the floor with a soft thud.
Her laughter intoxicated him as he joined her on the hard wood floor. He didn't want to waste any time between kisses. She'd only barely let his tongue enter in before she fell and now she lay on the floor, convulsing with laughter.
"Not like the movies," she said ruefully, rubbing her sore bottom. Angel wanted to pull her down but she got to her knees and launched herself back onto the couch and then changed her mind again, standing so he'd have to kiss her and press his whole length against her. She wasn't aware she was beckoning with her hands for him to hurry up until he grabbed hold of them and wound them around his neck.
"In the movies, all the love scenes are choreographed," Angel said before his lips descended on hers again. Willow whimpered in the back of her throat. She was impatient. And then his lips parted and their tongues collided as each of them wanted to be first into the exploration of uncharted territory. It was awkward at first until Angel pulled her tightly against him and Willow melted into his embrace, molding her body against his so her hips cradled his groin. Then the kiss exploded with hot fireworks of feelings that buoyed them up and held them aloft on the mindspeech highway. Angel broke away, panting for the first time in his life, and ravished her neck with his mouth.
"What was it… Anya wrote…" Willow gasped out as her hands roved over his back.
"What does Anya have to do with me kissing you?" Angel said between smootches. His words were garbled as his lips refused to leave her skin. He sucked in on her carotid artery and Willow cried out.
"Anya said that when the bond is at full power, it's supposed to be amazing."
"What's supposed to be amazing?" Angel goaded her. Her turn to say it.
"What?" Willow said, completely distracted. Angel chuckled low in his throat and nibbled her earlobe, tickling the soft spot under her ear with his fingers to make her whimper again.
"Nothing, never mind," he whispered, moving back to her mouth. He was a man ravenous for a banquet.
Carefully, Angel's fingers deftly stole underneath her sweater and danced up her back. Willow thrust her shoulder blades out and pulled back a little. She was breathing just as hard as he was, and her lips were swollen and her eyes glazed over with wanting him. Yet, she didn't know how far she wanted to go, didn't know where her point of no return was.
Angel forced himself to slow down and get into the listening mode for it was obvious Willow had something she needed to get off her chest and unfortunately for him, it was not her sweater.
"Angel, I don't know if I can… this is all new and I…"
Angel stepped away and ran his fingers through his hair. Women were the same all through the centuries. Took them a while to heat up, like a crock pot, and in the meantime they possessed the wherewithal to actually think about things like consequences and implications and rightness and morality? Angel's world was a little simpler at this point, when he was all male. He just wanted her. Hard. Fast. As soon as humanly possible.
Willow knew he would stop if she wanted him to. Then they could take the physicality slowly, exploring each other carefully over months and weeks of also building their emotional relationship. The levels would perfectly correspond, she would always feel safe and right and guard her heart against any pain. He, in turn, would be sensitive and gentle and the consummate gentleman.
Then she looked at him, saw the unkempt and vulnerable desire burning in his gaze and knew that this relationship was anything but safe.
"Willow?"
Her heart would feel volumes of pain.
"Listen, we can stop…"
She would not always be in control.
"I love you."
"Love casts out fear," she murmured, quoting Doyle's last words, and closed the gap between them, raising her face to his and smiling with a radiance that was all her own.
Angel mouthed 'thank you' to her and covered her mouth with his own, leaving the mindspeech road open but instinctively knowing that there would be a distinct lack of rational thought for the rest of the evening.
End Part 3
Willow came awake slowly, the last vestiges of a dream evaporating like fog once the sun hits the ground, becoming aware of someone tickling cool fingers up and down her bare back. She smiled, opened her eyes, and hugged the pillow a little closer. Angel smiled back at her, delighted to see her awake, and it struck her again how different his eyes looked without pain, without anguish, and without guilt.
"G'morning," she mumbled groggily. The inside of her mouth tasted like a dragon's foot.
"Good morning," Angel replied, loving her static hair, her sleepy eyes and her warm skin next to his. He'd been awake for an hour, had already gotten up, eaten, brushed his teeth, and climbed back in bed and she didn't move a muscle. Willow squeaked as she stretched and tried to peer over him to see the alarm clock but it was not in its usual place on the trunk next to Angel's bed.
"Time is it?" she asked, preparing to jump out of bed and hustle to school.
"Ten-thirty."
"I have to go to class," Willow said apologetically. She climbed over him, blushing a little as she remembered the night they'd spent together. It took a lot of courage for her to walk naked from the bed to the bathroom because she could feel his eyes roving over her appreciatively. But when she exited the bathroom, ready to get dressed and face the new day, Angel was still watching her. One of his muscled legs draped over the mattress with his foot resting on the floor, and the other was bent at the knee and raised. She stopped with one hand on a brick supporting wall and wordlessly watched him stroke himself. It was erotically charged. To hell with magnetic north, her soul was welded to him now and forever and the bond between them crackled with a kind of love and passion that had never been there before.
"Thought you had to go to class," Angel reminded her even as he held back the blanket so she could climb back into bed with him.
"You can teach me just fine," she said in her fluttery Willow cadence.
Angel chuckled as she fervently kissed him and they sunk down into a vortex of pleasure that was a balm to every bit of wounded heartache either of them possessed.