Summary: Angel grieves for Willow and questions the motives of the PTB.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, Joss and Co. do. I make nothing from these stories.
Distribution: NHA, SoG, redsoulmates, willsangel, and anyone else I post to. Other's just ask.
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I mourn the loss of Willow, even as I sit here, cradling the shadow of her in my arms. She's cold now. No human warmth left in her. Although, some of the scent still lingers. I still remember the taste of her blood. Oh, but I am masochistic tonight. I gently push her away from me, laying a small kiss on her forehead. She looks up at me with those questioning eyes. I don't have the answers.
"I need to go...think," I say standing. Too much has happened in too short of time. I think I'm still in shock.
"Do you hate me, Angel?" Willow asks. What ever gave her that idea? She is still seated on the floor, looking up at me.
"Oh, Willow," I say, holding out my hand to help her stand. "I could never hate you. Never. If I hate anyone, it's myself."
"Yeah," she says with laughter in her voice, "you were always good at that."
I hold her at arms length for a minute, studying her. God, she looks the same. Her skin is barely a shade paler then what it had been in life. Her hair, I love her hair, those fiery tresses. And those emerald eyes, they are the hardest to look at. I remember looking into those eyes and seeing her soul, now I can almost imagine it's still there. Just wishful thinking on my part. I sigh. She's no longer the young girl I once knew. Her story alone was proof of that. I pull her close to me and kiss her temple, then let her go. I need to think, or brood, as everyone else calls it.
"It's almost dawn," I say, looking towards my drape-covered windows. "Get some rest. I'll be back later." I walk to the door, and turn around to say something else. She speaks before I have the chance.
"I know, Angel. Don't leave the room."
"Look, I'm sorry. It's just that--"
"It's ok. I understand," she says cutting me off. "Now go brood."
I nod and smile a 'thank you' leaving the room. I let out a breath of air I didn't know I'd been holding. Oh, but it's too easy to forget that Willow is a vampire now. She's just as perceptive, and caring. Why has this happened?
Oh God, what if...what if Cordelia had a vision and I missed it? I race down to my office to check my message pad. Nothing. I check the cell phone Cordelia insisted I keep on me. Nothing. Maybe she forgot to leave a message, or took Gunn and Wesley with her. No, she's in the room upstairs. Sleeping. Willow heard her earlier.
I walk, no, I ran up the stairs to her room. It is one floor above mine, and has an eastern exposure. I couldn't barge in, not without bursting into flames. I'm not that desperate...yet.
I knock a few times on the door. Not hard, but loud enough to echo in the hallway. I'm not getting an answer. Listening closely I can hear her heart beating the slow rhythm of sleep. I sigh. I really don't want to break the door down, but I am close to doing just that. I need answers. Answers only Cordelia has. I knock louder this time, harder, more persistent. Finally, I hear her stirring.
"Cordelia," I call.
"Angel? What is God's name are you doing pounding on my door at...six am?! This had better be good mister," Cordelia says walking towards the door. She flings it open and I have to jump to the side to avoid the sun's rays coming through her window. My hand gets singed, a little.
"Serves you right," she says smugly. "Now what is it you want that can't wait?"
"Did you have a vision in the past two days?" I ask hopefully. If she did, I failed, but it's better I screwed up, then...well I'm not going there right now.
"No, I've been blessed with a vision free week," she says smiling. Her smile falls when she sees my face.
"Angel? What is it? What's wrong?" she asks.
I can't stand here any longer. Too much rage, threatening to boil over. If I don't walk away from her now I might hurt her. Half- demon or not it would hurt. She isn't the target of my anger anyways, just the vessel they speak through. They, being the Powers That Be. How dare they not send a vision?!
I walk calmly down to the basement. See, controlled rage. Well, except for the hole I punched in the stairway wall. I only have so much control.
As soon as I hit the basement steps I let loose. I swing my fist down onto the banister. It breaks with a loud crack. I jump down from the stairs to the floor and grab the nearest object, a box. I toss it haphazardly into the wall causing the contents to spill out. I kick out at a post, the flat of my foot hitting it and making a dent in the metal. Ok, so destroying foundation support is probably not a good idea, but I really don't care right now.
I continue throwing and destroying things; containers, boxes, metal shelving. I even think I killed the old washing machine. I do everything I can to release my hurt and anger. I yell, scream, curse, in both English and Gaelic. I finally tire enough to let the tears come, and I cry. Although, wailing is probably more appropriate.
Why didn't the PTB send a vision? Willow is one of the people fighting on our side. Or she did until... Do they not care anymore? She always fought so hard, never giving up. Willow kept the group together. What will they do now without her? How could they let me kill her? Let her die?
I don't know if I can be her Sire. It's just been too long, and it would be coming close to letting that one part of me I keep hidden, come to the surface. I don't know if I could control it, or her.
Everything keeps piling up, one problem after another. I just finished dealing with Connor and his betrayal. Tossing him from the hotel. Do I ever get one day of true rest? I shake my head at the unfairness of it all. Over the years I've wanted to thrown in the towel, since getting my soul. Give myself up to the sun and admit defeat. I've come so far that it's pointless to give up now. I have Willow to protect.
The hotel is silent now that I've quieted down. I listen closely. Cordelia is back asleep. No surprise there. She will ask enough questions later. I can't hear Willow. Not always a good sign. She may be sleeping, hopefully, like I asked, or gone. I don't like the latter, so I go up to check on her. I get to my room and open the door slowly. I don't see her immediately from the doorway. I walk in a few steps and spot her sleeping in my bed. Then again, maybe I can control her. She's listened thus far. A little uncommon for a newborn to listen completely to their Sire's. Hmm.
I take one of my chairs from the sitting area and pull it to face the bed. She looks so peaceful laying there. Every now and then taking an unnecessary breath that the new ones can't seem to help. Reflexes from life still kicking in. Almost makes her seem alive. Almost.
I yawn. The impromptu workout along with the events of the past few days have drained me physically and mentally. I end up falling asleep facing the girl I've sworn to protect.