E-MAIL: Ciderbreak@aol.com
SEQUENCE: Path Less Traveled series, story #6
DISCLAIMER: Joss, not I. No infringement implied.
DISTRIBUTION: Charity, FoF, my website.
DEDICATION: To all who wrote wanting to smack Angel upside the head. *g*
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Willow bounded through the door with a happy look on her face Angel hadn't seen since she moved to LA. Proudly, she thrust an exam at him, holding it out with both hands and bouncing slightly on her toes. The shadows lengthened in the office, telling Angel sunset was on its way, and he wanted to see it with Willow tonight. He could never get enough of sunsets. Sunrises were another story. He was always too sleepy.
"Congratulations," he said honestly, knowing that "A+" was a very good thing no matter the class.
Willow rushed over to the miniature fridge they kept in the office and secured her stellar grade to the door with a magnet that said, "I Climbed Mt. Washington." She had no idea whose magnet it was and worried that it may have been a leftover souvenir from Angelus's day. Who else knows what he did on that mountain.
"I was so relived," Willow confided. "After missing so much school I wondered if it would affect my grades. But it didn't! At least not in Anatomy and Physiology. My Latin grade won't be fridge material, that's for sure."
"What are you going to be when you grow up?" Angel asked, keenly interested. She could be anything with her intelligence and stamina. He'd love to see her be a doctor specializing in healing the supernatural. An uncharted field she could be the master of and then…
Wait. He'd said something wrong. He didn't know what, but Willow's face crumpled and she slouched into a chair, pulling her backpack on top of her and lowering her eyes to the ground. Damn.
"Willow, what's wrong?" He asked, truly not knowing. When she raised teary eyes to his, he knew instantly, and closed his eyes in defeat. Things had been going so well between them since the Fear demon incident. They'd agreed to be friends, nothing more, and refused to talk about romance even though Doyle kept bringing it up.
"I'm not going to grow up," she said dully. Angel nodded and waited for her to continue. When she remained silent, he came around the desk and crouched beside her, placing a comforting hand on her arm.
"I'm sorry, Willow. I didn't mean to make you upset. Please forgive me."
Well, that was a vast improvement, Willow thought. Usually there was a clause in there, the "I only meant" clause, where he'd try and rationalize how he'd hurt her. Finally, the man was taking some responsibility.
About bloody time, as Spike would say.
"What? Why are you smiling? Is this-" Angel lowered his voice. "Is this a mood swing?"
"No," Willow sighed, letting him off the hook. Cordelia had the men trained very well to be sensitive to women "during that time" but she couldn't take advantage of it. The mystery would only last so long. "No, I was just thinking of Spike. 'Cause I had lunch with Buffy today." Angel smiled at her logic. He never knew why some things made her associate with other things. It was part of the charm he was beginning to really love about her.
"You know, because Spike is helping Buffy and the others… it's a long story. Anyway, Buffy came and had lunch with me and gave me a letter from Giles. It's a sealed letter, so I think it's pretty important. She looks really beautiful. I think loving Riley is agreeing with her."
To Angel's credit, he did not flinch, but stood up and walked to the window. The traffic sounded louder than usual, which meant it was definitely rush hour. He still wanted to see the sunset.
"Let's go up to the roof and read the letter," he suggested. "You can tell me all about your day."
"And you can tell me all about yours. Did you ever get in contact with the woman who owned that poodle?"
"Yeah, she came in and paid cash. Cordelia nearly passed out."
***************************************
There was no wind that evening, just a smog-filled scent of traffic rising with the moon. The sunset was a cloudless strip of yellow and orange, nothing spectacular, but to Angel it was another day of grace he would not take for granted. He was listening to Willow's account of her day, but it was hard for him to concentrate. He felt like a traitor for slipping into a comfortable routine with Willow. Buffy was moving on with this Riley character, who sounded for all the world like a good guy. Even Xander approved, according to Willow, and Xander was notoriously vocal about Buffy's choice of boyfriends, as he well knew. It sounded as though Buffy was finally doing what he wanted for her- a normal guy, happy life, maybe someone to settle down with, do the children thing. If she lived to see graduation. The oldest slayer in history was 24 when she died and that was a huge anomaly. Most girls never saw their twenty-first year. And if Riley could give her the happiness that he couldn't-well, she deserved no less. Mourning his lost love was not easy when he lived with her best friend, a constant reminder of the time in Sunnydale.
"…so I said, Buffy, exotic dancing is not a good after school job."
"What?!" Angel exclaimed, whipping his gaze away from the dwindling sunset to glower at Willow, who grinned.
"Knew you weren't listening," she said, poking him in the side. "Why don't you read Giles' letter. Maybe that will cheer you up."
"Doubt it." Angel opened the envelope and unfolded the handwritten letter. Giles' penmanship was easy to read and his style was not as formal as Angel would have expected. Willow swung one leg over the edge of the building so she was on a level with him as he stood and read the missive.
"Dear Angel and Willow," the letter began, "Xander, Anya and I spent considerable time researching the effects of that fateful rainstorm on the rooftop a month past. I am confident that the silver cage, the pressure, the pain, and the animal instincts you described were indeed what Anya called a "maelstorm of truth." That phrase, it seems, is a nickname for the very ancient and revered rite. As Anya first suggested, your eternal connection is a gift. When properly nurtured, the bond will strengthen and imbue each partner with supernatural side effects. Angel, you experience aspects of humanity. Willow, you mentioned unexplained strength. These physical manifestations can, if controlled, be used to your advantage in battle.
"That is one new, exciting discovery! This bonding definitely holds some purpose for the greater good. It is not arbitrary nor a form of punishment. As far as we know, you are now partners in this war we so valiantly wage against the forces of darkness. As your friendship grows, so will your abilities. Be watchful for the ability to speak using thought instead of speech!
"Xander encourages me to remind Willow that Angel is not Angelus, so don't be afraid. I will add that Xander made that comment wholly devoid of malice or sarcasm; love for you, his friend, has changed his heretofore immature attitude concerning Angel and matters therein. He still harbors an unholy affection for something called Ring Dings, however, that is most disturbing. Anya bids me mention, somewhat less delicately, that when your bond is at its full capacity the sex is purported to be amazing. Whether this is myth or fact, I never want to know.
"I am sending this sealed letter via Buffy, who chose to be left out of our investigations. She is so happy with Riley-her life in the sunshine is everything you ever wished for her, Angel, and your sacrifice equaled her happiness, for however long she has to live on this earth. I only hope your immortality with Willow may someday be lived out with similar joy. Fondest regards, Rupert Giles."
Angel tucked the letter back into the envelope and looked at Willow. Her red hair fell across her face and he brushed it back to see her expression filled with grief. Had she been hoping for a reprieve, some way out of this life she seemed to be accepting?
"I miss them so much," she whispered, struggling to control tears. Angel stepped forward and put his arms around her, helpless to know what to do. He'd spent so many years adjusting to friendlessness, learning to love solitude and the lonely quiet nights that he could not remember what it was like to miss friends. Perhaps it was like missing Buffy, that big, aching, gnawing hole in the pit of his stomach that kept winding up and down, around his heart, squeezing his lungs, blinding him with the pain when he least expected.
Willow put her arms around Angel and cried on his shoulder. He possessed such a bigger shoulder than Xander or Oz or any of her other friends. And even for all that he intimidated her, he *did* have moments when he could be very comforting. Like now, rubbing small circles on her back which relaxed her completely. It was so much nicer being friends with the vampire than being at odds with him. He was still laconic and brooding, that hadn't changed, but ever since she rejected the Fear demon he hadn't said one unkind word to her. Doyle told her he wailed extra hard on the bad guys, but at least he did not attack her anymore. It wasn't truly in his nature anyway, but she still harbored a little grudge against him and refused to tell him what the Fear demon had showed her that night. Wisely, Angel only asked once.
"Things are better for you, now, right?" Angel wanted to know. Willow sniffled indelicately and went to wipe her eyes but his hands were there first, smoothing away tears and tucking her hair behind her ears.
"Yes."
"But you're not happy."
"I have little pockets of happiness and so do you. But mostly I'm stuck in a sad patch," Willow confessed. "I guess this is the way it has to be."
Angel embraced her again, struck to the core of his soul at how much her hopeless words affected him. She accepted him, the bond, and resigned herself to a very loveless existence. No wonder a letter from home distressed her so. And he didn't make it any easier, mooning over Buffy every waking minute and barely listening to her long, babbling conversations.
Willow excused herself and went inside, leaving Angel alone on the roof with his thoughts.
The apartment was spectacularly clean. Willow missed the casual clutter of her bedroom in Sunnydale, which she could no longer refer to as "home." Angel was very particular (Cordelia referred to it as 'anal') about cleanliness and order. So after a dinner of a bagel with cream cheese, Willow washed, dried, and put away the dishes and wiped the crumbs off the table. Again, a surreal feeling overwhelmed her. Here she was, doing something as common as eating after learning that her fate was permanently sealed with Angel, no way out. Life continued to go on around her as she mourned her losses. She completed her homework, studied her Latin until her eyes blurred, and then climbed into bed, emotionally exhausted. Angel still hadn't come down from the roof but she was used to his odd hours. She did hear him briefly in the middle of the night, familiar sounds that lulled her. He puttered around in the bathroom, then she heard the whisp of cloth as it was pulled from his body, leaving him bare to sleep.
Willow snuggled into her pillow and prayed for sweet dreams.