E-MAIL: Ciderbreak@aol.com
SERIES: Path Less Traveled Story #8
DISCLAIMER: Joss, not I. No infringement implied.
DISTRIBUTION: Charity, FoF, my website.
SUMMARY: the plot thickens....
THANKS TO: Everyone who's given me feedback on this series! I hope you're all still with me. I mean, there hasn't even been sex yet. *snerk*
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"Goodbye," Angel called after Cordelia's retreating back and was rewarded with a wave and one last, irrepressible grin. The closed door seemed so final, like closing the lid on a coffin after the wake. He felt deflated, suddenly aware of the dingy office with its poor lighting and dull floors. Cordelia, however annoying at times, had at least added color just sitting behind the desk. Her "big break" was upon them all, a small part in a film that forced her to relocate to New York. Rallied by the attention, Cordelia managed to find a place to stay and even a side job as a secretary. Her new life in the big apple. It came on as suddenly as one phone call and a quick background check, done discreetly by Angel Investigations. The film was respectable and might even achieve moderate success on screen.
Willow now sat at Cordelia's desk, clicking away on the keyboard, sending email to Xander. That's all it took for life to change: one closed door, someone else sitting in the chair. Angel's sense of time was radically different, having lived for over two hundred years NOT counting the time spent in hell, but he still couldn't get used to the way people in America could pack up their life on a whim. Dream chasers. He hoped Cordelia's dream wouldn't elude her for too long. But, if it did, there was always a place for her as his secretary. Sort of.
Willow wore what Doyle used to call her "witchy" outfit, a beautiful clingy dress with a patterned design on the bodice. The color was deep pink, almost orange in some lighting. Angel remembered it from a past long gone, when she and Buffy and he went to steal the box of Gavroc and Willow had done the spell to remove any wards covering the box. She looked radiant in it, but today she looked pale and a little thin. The dress, which usually clung to her modest curves, drooped instead. It worried Angel, who knew that her mortal form would not age and that she needed to remain healthy.
"You're not going to leave, too, are you?" Willow asked, not looking up from the keyboard. Her fingers slowed but did not cease typing. Angel skirted direct sunlight out of habit and leaned against the side of the desk. He took a long slug of blood and waited for her to continue, but she didn't. In fact, she hardly noticed he was there until he waved a hand in front of her face.
Willow jerked her head back.
"What?" she demanded, a little harshly.
"I'm not going to leave," Angel assured her, mesmerized by the look of horror that came over her face. Mistaking the look for indignation, he continued on. "I understand how you might think that, considering the last three months of your life, but I promise you I will not abandon you or reject you or leave you. We're friends."
"You read my mind," Willow told him quietly.
"No I didn't." Angel looked perplexed. "I heard you clear as day. You tried to sound joking but there was a little hint of that vulnerable thing you let me see now, and-"
"I didn't say anything, Angel, I swear," Willow backpedaled. "I thought the words but didn't say them. I know you can't go anywhere."
"Won't go anywhere," Angel insisted. It was far too early for him to decipher Willow-speak, especially when she looked to be on the verge of a large babble. He studied her face, seeing the dark circles under her eyes and how gaunt her cheeks looked. Maybe she needed to talk to her counselor about her weight. It worried him.
"I'm not skinny!" Willow suddenly shouted, backing away from him. "Just because you have a solid diet doesn't mean the rest of us don't struggle with food, okay? My metabolism is all screwed up 'cause I'm not growing or aging, and then there's the whole grief thing, and if you were fully human you'd look like hell too!"
Angel blinked. He had most definitely NOT told Willow he worried about her health. Those were private thoughts while he thought of a way to casually mention the issue in a calmer context. Cordelia would have blurted it out this past week if she wasn't completely preoccupied with her "inevitable superstardom."
"Okay, wait-"
"No! Marilyn says my weight is a little low, but that it's normal under the circumstances. I'm fine. And I can take care of myself!"
Marilyn Smith was her physician at the UCLA health center, whom she checked in with occasionally as part of the release agreement with the hospital. She also talked with a counselor on a weekly basis, a friend of Doyle's from the underground. His name was Frank Winter, a kind, gentle creature with a heart of gold, a master's degree in counseling, and a pair of yellow horns that kept him from having a normal practice. Sometimes her hour of time with Frank was the glue that held her week together and for that reason, Willow agreed with Angel's mandate that she remain getting "assistance." He didn't call it help, even though that's what it was. And she was adjusting well to things in LA until Doyle's gruesome death on the lawn.
"Willow, shh," Angel pleaded. He knew he hadn't said his thoughts out loud. Which meant that she heard him, somehow, in his brain. And maybe he could hear her thoughts as well?
That disturbing thought took a backseat to the knock on the door.
Willow gave him one last dark look and went to greet the visitor.
Angel Investigations newest client was fourteen years old, a girl who tried for all the world to emulate Britney Spears. She wore tight, revealing clothing, makeup so skillfully applied it looked professional, and spoke like an adult. Willow wasn't shocked, knowing that there was probably a large amount of little girl underneath all the attitude, but Angel didn't know how to treat her. Once he heard her age, he cast her into the "kid" category and left her there.
Her name was Amanda James, and she was in crisis.
"Don't you think your parents should be involved in this?" Angel asked once she'd told them the entire story. Her boyfriend, a seemingly Gap-clad nice boy named Grayson, had shot a store clerk and then turned the gun on himself over a month ago. There was no note, no history of past insanity, nothing. The case was cut and dried and Amanda saw the whole thing on a CNN videotape.
"They are involved. I have like ten shrinks and everyone's still walking on eggshells. Look, I wouldn't be here if I had anywhere else to go. I think there was something strange about the whole thing. Something maybe… not human. Every time I tell my mom I think Gray was possessed, she gets me another shrink." Amanda fluffed up her bangs and crossed her legs, waiting expectantly to be kicked out.
"How did you hear of us?" Willow asked. That was Cordelia's favorite line, since she was the promotions department. Amanda flashed the business card with the doodled angel on it.
"In my locker at school. You don't think I'm crazy, do you?"
There it was. The scared, little-girl look Willow wanted to see. This kid wasn't psycho, not out to get anyone. She just needed answers. And who better to solve the case than Angel, non-caped crusader of the innocent.
"No," Willow said gently. Amanda grinned.
"I can pay you anything. Just look at this tape I made of the CNN broadcast and tell me if you see anything strange. Then I'll tell you what's wrong with the picture and if our observations match I'll know you're not bullshitting me and we'll talk some more." Amanda stood up, her bare midriff showing off her belly-button ring. She placed an unlabeled videotape on the desk.
"I'll be in touch," Angel said.
"Oh, you're not partners? Like, Mulder and Scully?" Amanda looked at Willow and then back at Angel, confused. Belatedly, Angel realized the girl might be a little intimidated by him and resolved to keep Willow involved.
"Stay," he thought at her.
Willow shot him an incredulous look and turned back to Amanda, who was waiting to go.
"I'm Angel's-"
Willow was about to say research assistant, but Angel interrupted.
"She's my life partner. Anything you say in front of either one of us will remain completely confidential."
"Cool," Amanda grinned. "Life partner. Like, soulmate forever and all that? I like that non-trad stuff too. Look, I gotta get back to school. They don't punish me for skipping, 'cause I've been through a Big Deal, but if they catch me…"
"More shrinks," Willow nodded. She knew the drill. "I'm heading out, do you want a ride? It's better than the bus."
Amanda hesitated for a split second. 'Don't take rides from strangers' popped into her head, but the lesson was moot since she'd trekked across town to share her darkest secret with a couple of strangers. One little ride wasn't gonna kill her.
"Yeah, sure."
Willow led the way down to the garage, feeling very old. She was only four years older than Amanda but felt so much older. And wiser. However, it didn't stop her from admiring the girl's belly-button piercing and that's when she received Amanda James' full admiration.
"You're cool," the blonde girl decided, unimpressed by Angel's black convertible. She buckled up and retrieved a bored expression for the ride back to her house as Willow reveled in the first compliment she'd had in quite a while.
End Part 1
"So, 'life partner', what's on the tape?" Willow said as she flounced down the stairs. She slung her book bag onto her bed where it dislodged a pile of homework that slid to the floor in an unorganized heap. Angel tossed her an apple, her favorite after-school treat, and beckoned her over to the 27" TV in the corner. Willow sat down on the brown leather couch, bit into the apple, and glued her eyes to the TV.
Angel ignored the 'life partner' crack. He didn't want to lie to Amanda and call Willow his wife. First of all, he wasn't in love with her. Second of all, that girl could sniff out deception like a bloodhound on the trail of a killer.
"I had to call you something," he muttered and then hit 'play.'
Willow watched the news brief once in horror and then made Angel rewind it. The second time, she crawled up to the screen and scrutinized Grayson's face, which appeared blue, asphyxiated, nearly dead.
"He looks like the guy who killed Doyle!" Willow shouted. "Angel!"
Angel was already on the phone to Amanda.
"Amanda, this is Angel. I watched the tape, so any time you want to come down and talk, we're here…. Sure. That's fine."
Willow waited til he hung up the phone before pouncing on the topic.
"Angel, we've had no luck tracing the guy who killed Doyle and all of a sudden Amanda James falls in our lap. Is this a trap? I mean, her boyfriend did look like that random guy, right? I'm not just seeing things?"
"No, you're not." Angel hated that. He wanted her to be wrong, but they saw the same thing. Grayson looked possessed. "Amanda's clean. I did a little trace on our spice girl. She goes to Beverly Hills High and is the daughter of a prominent investment banker. I wonder if he's interested in investing in Microsoft? I hear they acquired a brilliant new software program."
"Ha ha. And thank you."
"Anyway, she's an average student, only child, active in social clubs at school and was a cheerleader in the fall. I think she's telling us the truth. I don't know how our business card got into her locker, but I'm guessing the Powers That Be had something to do with it. We're not getting the benefit of Doyle's visions anymore but I'm not off the atonement hook yet. I think They sent her to us."
"Agreed," Willow said, patting his hand. "Good work, detective."
"She's coming to have a sleepover, whatever that means. I'm guessing it's easier for her to get away overnight than for a few random hours in the evening."
"Yeah, she'll probably lie and say she's going to a friends house and spend the night here. Big lie, but Buffy and Xander and I did it all the time to spend our nights in the library with Giles. At least we were rebelling on the side of good."
"Except for that one time your vampire self rebelled on the side of evil," Angel teased, remembering Willow's doppelganger. Then he remembered exactly what the doppelganger looked like and was surprised when a wave of plain, old-fashioned lust shot through his body. The thin red-head that sat cross-legged eating an apple was a far cry from the leather-clad vampire who almost made the Bronze into a feeding ground. However, Angel could never forget how Willow poured herself into the leather corset and pants or the look on her face when she realized the bustier enhanced her assets. Innocent, yeah, technically, but she knew exactly what was going on. Knowing her sense of humor a little better, Angel wondered if her seemingly innocuous "look at those" comment was purposeful. Witch.
"Yeah, but don't worry. I had the outfit reproduced in case I need to rebel again. I'm thinking of getting a belly-ring like Amanda's. What do you think?"
"I'd rather you get a tattoo," Angel said absentmindedly, wondering if she was serious about the outfit. Probably not. But then again, you never know. Maybe Oz had a thing for leather.
"Really?" Willow said, then grinned. Angel's tattoo had a story attached to it that he revealed one Saturday night when he and Doyle had a few too many tequila shots. Willow, who was sober at the time, remembered the story very vividly. She'd always wanted a tattoo.
Angel nodded slowly, now fully engaged in a lovely thought of Willow's smooth lower back covered in a beautiful, ropy celtic vine with a knot in the center. Maybe the one representing eternity. That would be appropriate.
Amanda James arrived one hour later, bag and baggage.
"I don't have to be back until lunchtime tomorrow," she revealed. The smile that accompanied that statement told Angel her alibi was solid steel and he relaxed a little. At least Willow would be here to smooth over his brusque manner.
"Welcome to the batcave," Willow welcomed her, taking her bag and putting it on the end of her own twin bed. "You can have the, uh, guest room bed. Bathroom is through there and our fridge is your fridge."
"It's really neat," Amanda said, looking around curiously. She was dressed a little more casually this time in hip hugging pants and a looser shirt with a blue tank top underneath that matched her eyes. Her perfume was expensive and smelled like raspberries. "Who collects weapons?" she wondered, looking at the ornate swords mounted on the wall over the stereo system.
"Me," Angel said. "All kinds of art."
"My dad collects art but not swords and stuff. Do you know how to use them?"
"Yes." Angel immediately thought of his last showdown as Angelus, where he'd tried to kill Buffy with the top sword on the wall. He flinched a little and gestured towards the TV. "Shall we get down to business?"
They watched the tape together, silently. Angel turned off the TV immediately once the reel was finished and turned to Amanda. She looked pale and her lipsticked lips were pressed in a thin line.
"Are you okay?" Willow asked solicitously.
"Just tell me what you saw."
"Grayson was blue in the face as though someone had choked him nearly to death. He appeared to be dead, maybe in the end stages of a seizure, drooling and barely focused."
"Yeah," Amanda said, and let out the breath she'd been holding. Tears welled up in her big blue eyes and she reminded Angel of Buffy for a brief moment. Had Buffy ever been that young?
"What did the police say about it?" Willow asked gently.
"They said it was just the tape quality!" Amanda raged. "But he looks scary! Okay, look, Grayson hated horror movies, he would never even know how to put on makeup like that, and he would never, ever kill anyone! He was a normal guy. Sweet and nice and he always remembered our anniversary and left cute notes in my locker and everything. There is no way he would have done this on his own."
"We believe you," Angel assured her.
"You do?" she said, sniffling a little.
"We saw the same thing happen, a little closer to home, about a month ago. We've been trying to investigate it but haven't had any leads until now. Did Grayson have any friends you didn't like? Anyone who might dabble in the witchcraft or anything?"
"Not that witchcraft is always used for evil," Willow added quickly.
"No, we've had the same friends since kindergarten. The only time he ever went out of the hills was with his Dad for karate lessons. We're not even old enough to drive, how would we get around LA and meet witches?"
"Well," Willow shrugged, "you got here tonight. That's impressive. You sure he didn't hang around with anyone strange?"
"No. Just karate lessons. And sometimes he'd go visit his aunt Linda in Lynwood, but not regularly. She's kind of the black sheep in the family but Grayson was really nice to her."
"Do you know her last name? An address?"
"I can get it," Amanda said. "I have all his stuff, his diary, his favorite clothes."
"How long did you two date?" Willow wanted to know.
"Since we were eleven," Amanda said. "We were gonna go to Stanford together. Please, you have to find who did this to him."
"We will," Angel promised. He couldn't think of any other questions the boy's diary wouldn't answer and helplessly looked at Willow. That took all of five minutes and now they had the entire night left to entertain an energetic teenager. God help him. "I'm gonna go out and poke around, ask questions. I'll be back later, okay?"
"Be careful," Willow said, and grabbed his arm as he got up off the couch.
"Kiss me," she said into his head.
They hadn't discussed the mindspeaking thing, but it certainly was a reality and a help. Amanda thought they were lovers and Willow wasn't going to dissuade her from that fact at this point, considering the girl needed to believe they were trustworthy.
Angel obeyed without argument, bending down and placing a quick but firm kiss on her lips.
He was unprepared for the jolt of electricity that shocked him from feet to the top of his head and the apparent singing in his heart which immediately began thumping wildly. It felt like someone let off a firecracker in the part of his brain where lust resided because he wanted to do it again and again, never letting up until that electricity lessened and he could think straight again. Half of him wanted to punish himself for betraying Buffy and the other half told him to shut up, that she'd moved on, that she would always live in his heart but that he needed to stop looking backwards or he'd trip over his own feet on the new path, the new journey he was on.
Willow kept a tight grip on his arm and pulled him down for a longer, more passionate kiss, unable to think past the fact that her friend was kissing her and that she liked it… a lot. What the fuck was that about?!
Amanda giggled and cleared her throat dramatically, making Angel lift his head and growl a little in the back of his throat, annoyed because Willow had *just* parted her lips and he was *just* about to explore the sweetness of her mouth with his tongue and try to discover why she burned in his blood with a passion he never knew existed.
"How long have you two been together?" Amanda immediately asked Willow when Angel was out of sight. Willow tugged the skirt of her dress, still starry-eyed from the kiss.
"I've known him for four years, just about."
"And it's still good between you in bed? 'Cause I hear it sort of tapers off after awhile. You now, gets old."
Willow laughed, realizing they were about to embark on a very interesting conversation that Angel wouldn't miss, since he was sitting out of sight on the stairs, pleasantly eavesdropping on the girl talk.
"Well, I suppose it can. Sex isn't an easy way to communicate and it takes just as much work as any other part of the relationship."
"What was your first time like?" Amanda asked bluntly. "Gray and I were gonna wait til we were seniors. I mean, a lot of our friends do it, but we wanted it to be special. I just don't think groping around in someone's bedroom at a party is a great way to lose it. Does it hurt?"
"Yeah, it does," Willow said honestly. "But my first time was really nice, very sweet, and with a boy I loved. I have no regrets and I'm proud of that, so keep to your conviction. You can't be sorry."
"Does it hurt a lot? My friend Sabrina was complaining about it and I want to know if she's all talk."
"Depends on a few things. How prepared your body is, how careful the guy is, if he knows what he's doing or not, how relaxed you are. And it gets better from the first time. Don't expect perfection. Okay?"
"I won't. But… is it perfect with you and Angel?"
Willow smiled, whispered "hang on" in her head, and then said aloud to Amanda's inquisitive face,
"It will be."
End Part 2
Willow waited up for Angel in his queen-sized bed. Amanda fell asleep around eleven in Willow's twin bed next to the bookcase after a few more hours of girl talk and giving each other a manicure, something Willow hadn't actually ever done. Oz was the one who wore nail polish in the relationship, not her. She held her hands up for inspection again, actually liking the dark red shine coating her nails. Her new friend insisted she was "cool." Willow tried to dissuade the girl with the facts: "I'm 19, I'm a college student, I live in a basement without windows. I love candles. I'm a former high school geek." But Amanda wisely reasoned that labels were shit and that who Willow was now was all that mattered.
< Who am I now? > Willow wondered, turning over onto her side and admiring the brick supports in the walls. Excellent craftsmanship. Just like the rest of Angel's apartment with what Cordelia referred to as his "man furniture." Brass-bound trunks and leather chairs, soft brown and maroon and green upholstery, hundreds of well-kept books, weapons for show and for use, art picked up through the ages from Egypt to France, a workout area for tai-chi and light boxing, an antique phonograph, creaky wooden floors, a big armoire with well-cut clothing and a few period pieces shoved in the back.
Where did she fit in?
Her bed and the bookcase that cornered "Willowspace" held few personal effects; photographs of the gang, her and Xander at their kindergarten graduation, her trunk, one small dresser, and a clothes pole for her dresses. She didn't have a real closet or a desk and her posters refused to stick to the walls. Certainly the apartment saw a few changes since she'd moved in, namely cleanliness and some plants, a bigger TV and a cordless phone, but before Cordelia got a change to help redecorate she'd dashed off to New York. School and research kept her busy and she did spend a fair amount of time in counseling or in the library keeping her grades up.
"Get used to loneliness," Angel had cursed her the first night she stayed over, shivering on the cold floor in her sleeping bag while he settled into this amazingly comfortable bed. She wasn't used to it yet. Even with Angel not ignoring her or being mean to her, she still felt a little bit of apprehension around him. Not entirely trustworthy. And then there was Karl the Fear Demon's pledge that eternity with Angel would only bring forth more hurt, especially if they ever got intimate. For Angel would never banish Buffy from her heart until she was dead. Maybe not even then. So there it was. Friends with Angel, no more, despite that electric first kiss they'd shared earlier.
When the silence welled up in the empty spaces in her heart and cried out for justice, Willow thought of Xander. She missed his blind adoration of her, his championing her, his misplaced humor and penchant for snack food, his loyalty.
Xander would know what to say. Xander always knew what to say, and if he didn't, he would say the wrong thing but at least he'd try. Angel never tried.
"Hello?" Xander said, his voice alert even after midnight when he picked up the phone.
"Xander, it's Willow. How are you?"
"Not asleep. Visions of naked girlfriends dancing in my head. You?"
"Thanks for sharing. Xander, who am I?" Willow asked without preamble. He could take that, he knew her style. The less she babbled, the more dire the situation.
"What's wrong? Will?"
"I hate it here," she whispered, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. "I want to come home."
"Oh, Willow," Xander said. His heart ached for her and she heard it in his voice, pictured him sitting on the edge of the fold out couch, tense and ready to get up and drive to LA in the middle of the night if she asked him to. His brown hair was probably all messed up and he would smell like sawdust and sleep.
"We have a new case to solve, there's a girl involved who looks so young, Xander, but she's only five years younger than I am. I'm only 19. A birthday celebrated with two cards, neither one of them from my parents, by the way. I liked yours. Shoebox greetings."
"Don't change the subject," Xander warned. At least she got the card. He probably should have put Buffy in the car and driven to LA, at least take their best friend out for lunch but Willow called and refused, claiming she was too busy. That was the truth. She'd been in the hospital at the time and they only found out because her mother mentioned it to Buffy's mother at a plant sale.
"Angel is desperately in love with Buffy, that much hasn't changed. He's nicer to me now, but still so distant. And now Cordelia's gone and Doyle's dead and I don't have time or energy to start over with new friends. What would I say? Hi, I'm a witch and I live with a vampire? I'm not normal."
"Well, there's a start," Xander said cheerfully. "You're not normal."
"Thanks a lot."
"Will, that's a good thing! You were never normal. I never wanted you to be normal. You were always above the norm, smarter than everyone, way sweeter, way more charming. And you can kiss like it's nobody's business."
"Xander," she said warningly, blushing. At least the tears stopped.
"Sorry," he said, grinning sheepishly. "You're beautiful-"
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are. Boys don't lie about that and why is it that girls never believe them? Look in a mirror and see yourself the way I see you, not the way you see yourself. You're far too critical."
"I know. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm lost here without you and Buffy. Things are finally settling into a routine, if you can call grief and homework routine, and I'm starting to face the fact that I'm going to live eternally with a man who doesn't even know my middle name, much less think I'm beautiful."
"Will, give him time. He's used to having a long time to process things, decades, lifetimes. You've been in LA for three months. It's a whole new life for both of you."
Willow shook her head. It wasn't a new life, it was a tortured existence. But she didn't say that to Xander, who would only worry.
"But Xander," she said truthfully, "I don't know how to live life without you in it."
Angel stepped out of the shadows, startling her. She had not sensed his presence and could not hear him in her head for once, no intangible connection to buzz in the back of her head. His gaze was somber, definitely hurt, telling her he'd heard the entire conversation.
"Willow, I love you," Xander said quietly. "Say the word and I'll come to LA and hug you until you can't breathe. We'll eat cheese fries until dawn and you can cry all you want and I won't even tease you once. Do you want me to come?"
< Yes! > Willow wanted to scream into the phone. But Angel stood beside the bed, pulling his clothes off, his face now masking his emotions.
"Will?"
"No," she sighed. "I'm just in a mood. I needed to hear your voice, have someone who loves me tell me I'm pretty and that I'm not insane and that everything will be okay."
"Are you sure? I can steal Giles' car."
"No! God, no, I don't want you breaking down in that thing. Scary. No, just go to sleep. I'll be fine. Angel will come home and grunt goodnight and I'll sleep til morning and then head off for another day at my fine secondary institution."
"That scenario would taste better with cheese fries."
"Goodnight, Xander. I love you too."
"Doesn't everybody?" he joked, before saying a serious goodbye and hanging up the phone. Willow clicked off the cordless and tossed it into a chair, shifting over to the wall to let Angel under the covers with her. Anger interrupted his pensive mood when he put a hand under her chin, feeling the wetness of tears there, and made her look at him.
"We should talk," he stated the obvious. He hated the glimmer of fear in Willow's eyes, knowing he was the one who put it there in the first place. Heaven help him.
"Angel, I'm sorry. I just missed Xander and needed-"
"I know, I heard."
Angel lay on his back and folded his arms over his head. He was bare-chested, sleeping in his boxer shorts as usual. Willow would normally admire his physique but she was too tired and too annoyed to appreciate his beauty tonight. Tonight she wished he had scales and boils.
"I can't hear what you're thinking," he said. "Little lock-down spell will keep us out of each others heads whenever we want to be private. I looked into it when I was out. Oracles."
"Hey thanks."
"It's called mindspeak and it comes with the territory. Evidently it's going to get a lot stronger the tighter our bond becomes."
Willow digested that bit of information carefully, because there was something he held back on purpose and she knew it had to be a doozy. Plus, he wasn't searing her with that dark chocolate gaze that made her forget her lines.
"Mindspeak will eventually get so strong that those who know about it will be able to break through in times of emergency. That's what Doyle meant when he said 'the bond wasn't strong enough to mindcall.' If I hadn't been a profligate bastard to you in the beginning, we would have been right on schedule with the Powers That Be to have Doyle warn me about that gunshot. He'd still be alive."
"Oh, God," Willow whispered, placing a trembling hand to her mouth. What an unbelievable burden to bear! He must be hating himself, racked with guilt, incredibly humiliated. Add that to the years of Angelus's exploits and Angel must be in hell again.
Good.
Willow didn't feel uncharitable; he never did pay the price for being such a jerk and ignoring the "gift" from the PTB. Anya would see it as mercy, another chance to atone. Willow saw it as justice. At least someone was looking out for her, bringing her enemies low and laying waste to all who hurt her!
However, she still had to live with him. Drat.
"I know I deserve this pain," Angel said softly. "I know you're glad. That's fine, I can take it. What I can't take is the fact that when you're lonely you go crying to Xander."
"I don't have a choice, Angel, he's my best friend. Besides Buffy, but she's out patrolling at this hour."
"You could come to me," he suggested after a long pause. Willow blinked. Confide in Angel? Pour her heart out like water to the expressionless vampire? Share her innermost secrets with the man in love with her best friend? "I know I'm your last choice, but I am available and I do care, no matter how much evidence I've given to the contrary. And in return I will confide in you."
"What else happened tonight?" Willow questioned. He sounded less surly than usual. Almost resigned, if that could be believed.
"I will never have a life with Buffy," Angel said sadly.
Willow, at this point, wanted to scream out, 'well, duh!' but that would be rude. It would also wake up their houseguest.
"It's sinking in slowly, like quicksand. I hate it, but I need to put her behind me. Hell, she's in love with someone else and she's celestially happy. The Powers That Be gave me a rare gift connected to a beautiful, talented, giving young woman of whom I am so not worthy. I realized tonight that I only have one lifetime to make myself the man you need me to be. Not to mention only one lifetime to make amends, curb the demon in me, beg forgiveness, learn what it is that makes even Fear demons fall all over themselves trying to possess you."
"I can't be possessed," Willow murmured, a little shocked.
"I beg to differ," Angel said, a wry smile on his face.
"What are you saying, exactly? That you're over Buffy and you want to sweep me off my feet?" Willow said sarcastically. That sounded fairly arrogant to her; then again, Angel *was* partly human.
"You're already off your feet," Angel pointed out. "I just want a second chance."
"I could say no," Willow informed him. Let him sweat it out. He deserved nothing from her at this point. Well, maybe a little something. But she could avoid him for a few more decades, let him suffer in interminable silence while she pursued a career and maybe a few new relationships. Or, she could give in to the PTB now and avoid any future calamities. Free will and predestination got mixed up like darks and lights in the same wash.
"You could say no."
Angel still looked up at the ceiling and didn't see the compassion in her eyes as she moved closer to him. But he felt the gentleness in the kiss she placed on his lips. It was a light moth-wing touch, so brief he almost imagined it, but he didn't imagine the truce it displayed. She smelled like her lemon soap, as usual, but the hand brushing his jaw smelled like ammonia for some reason and he captured it in his hand.
"Nail polish?"
"We had a girls' night," Willow said sheepishly, trying to tug her hand away. Angel kept it, turning it around to see the dark color. It looked good on her skin, not too purple, rather sexy. He tried not to think of what her nails would feel like running down his back.
"Do you have anything to match this?" he asked. It was too dark to see her clothes pole from here, and the number of garments thrown over it wouldn't really be of much help anyway.
"I have a red velvet dress," she admitted. "Not appropriate for English lit." Not appropriate for trying to seduce a boy, either, as she'd so painfully learned with Oz over a year ago. Damn chivalry.
"Appropriate for dinner out, though. Are you free tomorrow night?"
"Is this a date?" Willow teased, finally getting her hand back.
"Yes."
"I accept."
"Thank you," Angel said, sounding so relieved that Willow couldn't help giggling.
They bid each other goodnight and turned away, each of them hugging one side of the bed to avoid touching in the middle. Sleep came swiftly to the mended heart.