E-MAIL: Ciderbreak@aol.com
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon and the WB own all Buffy stuff. No infringement implied.
SUMMARY: Sequel to Tailspin.
DISTRIBUTION: Charity's Site, Fever of Fate, anyone else who currently has my fic.
FEEDBACK: If you love me.
DEDICATION: To all the girls on Willangel who clamored, begged, and threatened bodily harm for the sequel. Hope you like!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Willow clutched the little potted plant in a white-knuckled grip as she and Angel approached Giles' front door. It was a beautiful California December day and they came bearing a plant to soften the blow, much like a death. The shoots looked like long, wicked teeth and felt like smooth cloves of garlic, but would quickly soak up sun and water and burst forth into hearty, fragile-looking white blooms with a sweet fragrance. She'd painted the terra-cotta pot white and drew bright red zig-zags all around the bottom edge for the festive look. Willow figured the plant would look nice in Buffy's dorm room.
Buffy's dorm room. No longer one they shared, lying awake long into the night whispering dreams and hope for the future. Since finals were over with and just Christmas awaited, Willow planned to completely move out of the dorm during the break and transfer to UCLA to finish college. It was the only choice, considering the steady and significant work Angel Investigations handled in the Los Angeles area. Sunnydale, being more than 20 miles away, was absolutely out of the question as a residence for Willow unless they could both survive constant, searing pain. Her father was ecstatic about that switch and prided himself on being the main cause, figuring that all his cajoling and pressure had finally made his daughter cave in and accept a place at a more respectable school. He'd even hinted at Stanford before she got off the phone.
Cordelia wisely held her tongue when Willow got off the phone in Angel's office. Her eyes were dry but her face was hardened, almost bitter and the would-be actress knew anything she said would be taken the wrong way. The bitter look settled permanently when Willow hung up with the Dean of admissions at UCLA. He was so ecstatic about "acquiring" such a fine mind that Willow had to hold the phone away from her ear, allowing Cordelia to hear every word.
"Acquiring me," Willow muttered morosely. "Makes me sound like a museum piece."
Angel looked down at his life-partner and scowled. She had her eyes closed and a half-smile on her face as she listened to the happy voices behind the wooden door.
"They're all in there making cookies," she said dreamily. "Anya wanted to learn and Buffy had all these great Christmas recipes, so… Xander didn't want me to miss it."
"You won't. We're here. Let's go in." Angel looked up at the sun, somehow not believing he was still alive and not burnt to a nice crispy pile of dust. Just another fringe benefit of being immortally bonded to Willow Rosenburg-aspects of humanity. Joy.
"You don't get it, Angel. The moment I step inside this apartment nothing will ever be the same. I don't know if I'll even have friends left and if I do, it will still be different. Forever."
"Your life's already been irrevocably changed. Suck it up and knock on the door or I will."
Willow poisoned him with a look of death and opened the door without knocking. The comforting, gallant vampire they all knew and -mostly-- loved tried his best to make her hate him. He was doing a pretty good job of it, actually. His words were often mono-syllabic, a trademark mystery component of his personality, but now they carried such contempt and rage. The one sentence he'd spoken to her on the ride from LA was, "Go to the bathroom now because we're not stopping along the way." That was the sole bit of conversation they'd had and it was a sight more than the day before, when he holed up in the basement apartment and ordered Cordelia, Doyle, and Willow upstairs for the day. At night, Doyle ventured down and hurried back up, assuring them all that Angel was fine. Sleeping. Willow thought there might be more to the story but the Irish half-demon was uncannily quiet.
"Willow!" Anya rushed over with a blue ceramic plate of shortbread cookies dipped in chocolate. "Have a cookie."
It was a command. Willow obediently took one of the narrow treats and had it half-way to her mouth when Anya spoke again.
"They're called chocolate fingers, but don't worry, no actual finger ingredients were used. Baking is very misleading."
"Oh, I think you're getting the hang of it," Buffy assured her, hugging Willow. She nodded at Angel and might have blushed, but her face was already flushed from being in the hot kitchen that it was hard to tell. There was an endearing smudge of flour on her chin that made Angel tear up and move to the living room area where Giles sat with an ancient text and a snifter of brandy. Seeing Buffy in that red apron, her hair slightly mussed, was too painful a reminder of the love he had for her, a love that did not seem to diminish despite his link with another woman.
Woman, or child. She seemed to be both. Sometimes the look in Willow's blue-green eyes held wisdom larger than anything the Oracles could bestow, and sometimes they held mischief and laughter. She got along famously with Doyle, often ganging up on Cordelia. He'd heard his erstwhile secretary's protests muffled through the floor several times the day he closeted himself in the basement apartment, holding a stake to his heart, considering the consequences of suicide.
"This is for you," Willow said, handing the paperwhites to Buffy, who cocked her head and looked up at Willow in concern.
"Are they supposed to look like big, nasty teeth?"
"They'll bloom in a couple days."
Willow couldn't find a smile to match her words and made her way to the living room, where she slumped dejectedly in a chair and glared at Anya, who proffered her another type of cookie.
"Okay, what's wrong!" Anya demanded. "Xander, you said Christmas cookies would bring tidings of comfort and joy."
Xander and Buffy exchanged a glance and immediately, Willow found herself flanked by her two best friends. Buffy took her cold hands in hers and squeezed comfortingly and Xander patted her shoulder, trying to ignore the sense of impending doom he felt.
"We have a problem," Angel stated the obvious.
He turned to Giles and told the entire story to the ex-Watcher in a cold, clipped voice that did not betray his inner rage at the injustice. Willow refused to look up, concentrating on the hem of her skirt.
"Willow and I managed to vanquish the Baylick monster without any problem, but when we tried to do a cleansing spell on the roof, the Powers that Be intervened," Angel started. He paused a little when Buffy let out a small cry of dismay and sat down on the floor. "They decided to reward me with aspects of humanity and give me a life partner to live out my immortality with. They made an obvious mistake in choosing Willow instead of Buffy, but I can't figure out a way to undo it. So now we're stuck with each other for eternity. We can't be further away from each other than twenty miles or it's physically painful. So, that's why Willow is late getting back here. We slept for a few days after the ordeal and then she got on the phone and transferred to UCLA so we can be near each other until you find a way to end this stupidity."
The buzzer on the stove broke the shocked silence and Anya murmured "jam pinwheels" as she stood up and went into the kitchen. No one spoke until she returned still wearing the red oven mitt.
"What?" Xander said. His voice cracked and he looked at Willow in fear, knowing that if it were all a cruel joke she wouldn't be hiding her face in her lap like this. And Angel… Angel wore a scowl that vied anything they'd ever seen on Angelus. "I mean, WHAT?!"
"It's true," Willow whispered. "Buffy, I'm sorry."
"Shh, Will, it's okay. We'll find a way to undo the spell, and anyway, it's hardly your fault. You didn't ask for this…. Did you?"
"No!" Willow's head shot up and Buffy saw tears in her best friend's eyes that convinced her of the truth. "Buffy, Angel loves you. He practically hates me. I don't want to be with him."
Willow's voice was so small and pitiful, like a child begging to be let out of being with a babysitter that scares her. Xander's knees were beginning to go numb from kneeling next to Willow but he couldn't move, could hardly speak, let alone get up and punch Angel's lights out for letting this happen.
"Yes, all right, let's start from the beginning. Angel, how-" Giles stuttered, only to be interrupted by Anya, who could outdo Cordelia any day with tactlessness.
"They got caught in a maelstorm of truth sent down by the Powers That Be," she explained matter-of-factly. "I once divined it as a punishment for a really hideous man in the thirteenth century and bonded him to a blacksmith with a really heavy hand."
"Wait, what? A maelstorm of truth?" Willow wanted to know. Her heart raced and a little buzzing in her head signified a massive headache, or panic attack, or worse.
"It's totally arbitrary," Anya assured her. "Lots of pain, and a freak thunderstorm, and what appeared to be silver shards of glass trapping you to the ground?"
"Exactly," Angel confessed.
"Pain?" Xander whispered to Willow, who could only nod. He leaned over and softly kissed her temple. He blanched when he saw the twin puncture wound scars and then began to notice all the other bruises and unhealed scrapes hidden by bandaids and pieces of gauze. What else had she endured?
"It's usually a gift from the Powers, meant to bring peace and harmony to human and supernatural folk alike. You're given powers, strengths, abilities you didn't previously have so you can better even the score between good and evil. I had to offer up a whole herd of goats in sacrifice to get them to use it as a punishment for this guy, who totally deserved it and even then I had no guarantee it would work. You should be grateful! It's a huge honor. Anyone want a jam pinwheel?"
The chorus of "No!" from the rest of the gang made Anya roll her eyes.
Time seemed to stop for Willow as Angel argued with Anya and Buffy and Giles kept jumping in and demanding answers faster than the ex-vengeance demon could get to them. She was aware of a little thread coming unraveled at the edge of her skirt, noticed a glob of cookie dough on the carpet, and counted three different colors in the carpet thread that comprised the unique green shag. The room smelled like vanilla and chocolate with a buttery smell around the edges, which should be a happy holiday smell and here she'd ruined it barging in on their fun with the horrific tale of her new future.
"For the seventh time," said Anya, who'd been counting, "there is no way to undo it! It is a gift, not a spell. I doubt Angel has been doing anything so bad lately as to warrant anyone trying to manipulate the Powers like that."
"Oh, come on, he spent most of his life as a bloodthirsty vampire!" Xander countered.
"I said, 'lately'," Anya stressed. Then she turned to Angel, all diplomacy gone. These mortals were too tied up in emotion to see things clearly. "Been raping the innocent? Stealing food from the poor because you like watching them starve? Maiming school kids 'cause they bleed faster?"
"No," Angel gritted out, his stomach churning at the mere thought of those despicable things.
"Those were the mild reasons I cursed that man. It cannot be undone, it's a gift, so you'll just have to live with it. End of story."
Giles opened his moth to speak and Anya shoved a cookie in it.
"I said, end of story."
Giles chewed and swallowed before trying again.
"I understand that, Anya. However, this is- is a rather large dilemma for us all, don't you agree?"
Chastened, Anya sat back on the couch and looked at Willow.
"Willow, I forgot you were there."
"Thanks," Willow muttered, feeling the buzzing in her head grow to a minor pain towards the back of her skull. She felt Xander's fingers come up to the base of her neck and start rubbing and she smiled weakly in thanks. He knew how her body reacted to extreme stress. The thought sobered her, though. She'd be leaving him, leaving Buffy and Giles and her parents and spending the rest of her life with Angel, who could care less about her except that she was Buffy's friend. That was no way to live.
"Willow, you have to live," Xander said, horrified.
Willow looked up in confusion, not aware she'd said that last thought out loud.
"Why?" she wondered. "Neither one of us wants this and the ramifications are huge."
"Perhaps," Giles countered, "but they do not warrant death."
"What, so that's it?" Buffy wanted to know. "Willow and Angel go off to LA and live happily ever after and I never get to see my best friend again? That's the way it's going to be?"
"I don't want to leave," Willow said hopelessly. Tears spilled down her pale cheeks as she tried to smile at Buffy and failed. "I don't want to leave."
As she began to sob in earnest, Buffy and Xander embraced her and let her cry, giving each other helpless looks, knowing that however blunt, Anya was correct. No recourse now except to say goodbye, get over the shock, and let life keep on spinning and twirling around them. Vastly unfair. Incredibly unjust. Words could not begin to describe the pain mixed with dread and despair that seemed to be the underlying emotion in the room.