Friendship

Note: Text enclosed in < > represents thoughts or feelings. 

"Angel was out of his mind with jealousy over Xander.  And his best friend died last night.  He was vulnerable and I...,"  Willow hung her head in guilt and shame, leaving the rest unsaid.  <Snip the truth here, paste it there...> 

She stubbed her big toe into the carpet nervously, awaiting Buffy's reaction.  <It's more or less the truth...I've just rearranged the facts...a little.> 

Strangely, it felt good to finally have the truth out.  Letting Angel shoulder all of the blame, as he'd no doubt intended, just wasn't right.  Absently, she noted that Angel no longer wore just a towel.  <Which could have been rather incriminating.> 

The memory of that towel restored some of the pink to her cheeks.  He looked good in slacks, a white tank shirt, bare feet.  <I wonder if he owns any jeans?...If he does I'D BE WILLING TO BET THAT THEY'RE BLACK!> 

"That's not true!"  Angel hissed--sounding furious--from between clenched teeth. 

<Uh-Oh!>  Willow felt her heart thud heavily.  She hurriedly sucked in a deep breath to counter.  Buffy's head snapped toward Angel, her eyes widening... 

"Is Too!"  Willow burst out, determined to stop him. 

"I DON'T hide behind a woman's skirts!"  His words emerged as a low growl and he directed a baleful glare toward her.  Their eyes met and locked, the world narrowing to their personal conflict.  Buffy stood quietly, forgotten. 

"This is the 20th Century!"  Willow glared right back at him, not the least bit intimidated.  "I can protect my own honor!"  <Touche!> 

"This isn't just about your honor,"  Angel kept his tone low and even.  "This is about mine too."  His eyes hardened, flashing like dark gems.  Willow paused, momentarily taken aback by his seriousness.  <Oops!  Maybe I miscalculated!> 

Angel's dark eyes pierced hers.  "I was raised to respect women.  Honor means a lot to me."  He hesitated, carefully measuring his words.  "If this was another time, another place..." Grief and regret filled his eyes, softening his words, "If things were different.then right now I'd be asking you to marry me." 

Buffy gasped and Willow felt like she'd been flung off a cliff.  Suddenly, it was their turn to stare at him in astonishment.  <This is NOT what I was expecting!> 

"But!" Willow exclaimed, not knowing what to say, but feeling the need to protest SOMETHING. 

"Hush,"  the sterness of the soft command contrasted oddly with tenderness in his eyes.  "I know that this is the 20th Century, not the 18th.  But that doesn't change what happened." 

<Happened?!  We just made out!  Didn't we?!  Did I miss something?!>  Willow stared at him in bewilderment, trying to grasp the bizarre motivations of his 18th Century mind.  <If a gentleman ruined a lady's reputation, then he would...!> 

Angel met her eyes with quiet determination.  Abruptly, Willow understood.  <If Buffy's going to think we "did it" then Angel intends to react accordingly to protect my "honor"...And I can't!...I'll look like a liar!> 

"But we both wanted it...," Willow whispered bravely.  She hesitated, remembering...<Angel loves Buffy.>  Doubt assailed her again about his motives.  She felt her eyes widen, beginning to tear.  She blinked, desperate not to cry and bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. 

Her heart tightened with cold dread.  "Didn't we?"  she pleaded in a tiny voice, forcing the words past her constricted throat.  <Why would he impose such a strict penalty on himself if last night was really mutual and voluntary?> 

He crossed the room to be by her side in a heartbeat.  "Last night meant everything to me,"  he offered her a heartfelt smile, extending his hand.  Willow took it in her own;  it became a warm flowing connection between them, calming her, melting the snowcap of dread covering her heart. 

His eyes caught hers with tangible force, revealing far too much of his intermost feelings for his gaze to be coincidental, or accidental.  She saw him, felt him, letting every emotional defense down, letting her in.  "But I don't want you to feel trapped, or obligated, or used," he hesitated, looking vulnerable. 

Then he continued, with the same openness that wrung her heart, "If you don't want me around, tell me to get lost and I'm gone."  His eyes revealed the truth of his statement.  <He would do it.  It would wound him grievously, but he would...>  Tears flooded her eyes again, and emotion closed her throat. 

There it was again--Angel offered her an opportunity to trash his feelings, in order to bolster her ego against her own doubts.  Willow felt wretchedly small, ashamed of her own inability to believe in him and herself.  <Sooner or later, he's going to get sick of being the one who does all the giving... How can he be so strong, to risk this sort of rejection?  I wish I had his courage...> 

Willow tightened her grip on his hand, drawing strength from his faith in her.  <Time to grow, Girl!  Angel's hurting, just like me.  Together, we can help each other get through this...if I can overcome my fear.> 

She cast her fear aside, determined not to continue doing all of the taking, and none of the giving.  She smiled, offering the acceptance he needed so badly,  "I want you..."  She hesitated, about to leave it at that, but cowardice won out, "around." 

Angel smiled, understanding.  He turned his hand, crossing their wrists and pulling her hand to his heart.  Her body flowed smoothly forward into his.  Their lips met lightly for the sweetest moment in a fleeting kiss. 

Willow exhaled, enjoying freedom from a guilty conscience, and strangely, the foreign feel of self-confidence.  <An incredibly attractive man wants me!  Me!> 

For once, amazingly, She--Willow Rosenburg--had managed such a coup!  For once, it wasn't Buffy instead of Willow. 

<Buffy!>  Somehow, Willow had forgotten she was there.  She turned swiftly, glancing hurriedly at her friend.  Buffy stared at the ground, looking immensely uncomfortable. 

"Buffy?"  she called, feeling bad for having ignored her friend.  Buffy glanced up.  "Maybe we should leave," Willow suggested, deciding retreat was prudent. 

"That might be a good idea," Buffy agreed faintly.  She absently reached down to pick up her crossbow and cast one final hurt and confused look at Angel.  He met her gaze defensively. 

"I'm sorry about your friend," Buffy told him, looking sad and guilty.  "I'm sorry...about...a lot of things," she added hesitantly, as if expecting Angel to hurl the sympathy back in her face. 

Angel's expression softened, and Willow felt uneasy at witnessing the emotional intimacy they still shared.  "I'm sorry too," he accepted her condolences gracefully, sharing her sorrow for a moment. 

Uncomfortable, Buffy eased past him cautiously.  She clutched her crossbow like a teddy-bear and fled toward the elevator without a backward glance.  Willow followed, sending one last timid smile toward Angel.  She carefully concealed her pensive doubt.  <What was THAT all about?!> 

She passed Angel and stopped behind Buffy, who hit the open button to the elevator doors.  Angel's hand closed gently on Willow's upper arm, turning her to face him. 

"We need to talk later," he said, very serious again.  Behind her, Buffy turned, opening her mouth to speak.  When she saw that Angel spoke to Willow, her jaw snapped closed with an audible crack. 

"I'm going to Matthew's memorial service tonight.  I'll come looking for you afterwards," the implication in his words restored some of her previous tension.  <Here comes THE TALK...> 

Willow looked down, letting her hair swing forward into her face.  "When Xander and Giles ask--there's no one to blame for this but me,"  Angel quietly stated his demand, making it clear this wasn't a discussion.  He placed his finger lightly under her chin, lifting it up until their eyes met.  "Is that clear?"  He asked sternly, probing her eyes for compliance. 

Willow bobbed her head meekly in consent.  She liked his protective attitude--even if it reeked faintly of an outdated chauvinism.  <That, after all, can be managed...> 

"Good,"  Angel smiled, content in his masculinity. 

Willow hurriedly dropped her face into her chest, flipping forward a curtain of hair to conceal her smug amusement. 

The elevator doors opened behind them.  Buffy spun and stepped through, eager to escape.  Willow followed more sedately, feeling oddly pleased with the way the morning was turning out. 

"Willow?"  Angel's tone held more than a hint of smug amusement of its own.  Willow looked back at him curiously, her brow lifting in silent inquiry. 

"Shoes?"  Angel smirked at her, glancing meaningfully at her feet. 

Willow looked down--they were bare.  "Oh yeah, right," she mumbled, scurrying to retrieve her forgotten socks and shoes. 

His laughter carried her across the room and into the elevator. 

Once she was inside, Buffy stabbed the down button.  Hard. 

Outside, the morning was clear, dry, and rather cold.  The chill California air sucked unpleasantly down her parched throat.  Willow swallowed dryly, disliking the rough passage of cold air along her nasal 
passages; twitched her nose, disliking the sensation dry skin created as the bridge of her noise cracked under the movement. 

Her dry heavy tongue licked her lips, tracing the dry flesh threatening to chap.  Willow sighed.  <Time to get out the Chapstick and hand cream.> 

Willow glanced over at Buffy.  Her friend walked quietly beside her, looking completely wrapped up in her own thoughts. 

"So, I guess that Xander and Giles are probably pretty upset, huh?"  She tried to break the silence with a question.  It went unanswered. 

"Buffy?"  Willow touched her friend's shoulder lightly. 

"What?!"  Buffy's startled reply confirmed that she had not heard Willow the first time. 

"Xander and Giles?"  Willow reminded her.  "Freaked?"  she asked, even though she already knew the answer. 

"Oh, yeah, right,"  Buffy nodded absently, still not focusing.  "They're totally wigged," she elaborated, confirming Willow's suspicions. 

Willow groaned, feeling a headache coming on.  <Life is turning into one confrontation after another.> 

"According to Giles, you called last night--and said you were safe,"  Buffy glanced over at her friend.  "With Angel," she added deliberately, watchfully observing Willow flush at the implication. 

"Xander didn't believe it--he thinks Angel forced you to make the call," she continued, carefully keeping her tone void of emotion.  "But Giles wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt." 

Buffy hesitated, carefully weighing her words.  "Besides, Angel moved and didn't leave a forwarding address with Giles.  We went to his old apartment and spoke with the landlord.  Apparently, his apartment building was closed three week ago by the California Housing Authority for having dangerously high asbestos levels..."  she trailed off. 

"So, how did you find his new address?"  Willow asked the obvious question, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction.  She folded her arms.  <How on earth am I ever going to explain this?> 

"When you didn't show up for school this morning, Ms. Calendar hacked into Pacific Bell's database and extracted it,"  Buffy brought her hands together, wringing them.  She hesitated, looking at Willow... 

<Here it comes...Gee, I wonder if Angel has a last name...> 

"Willow?"  Buffy asked, curiosity tearing the question out of her.  "Who was telling the truth--you or Angel?"  She looked utterly torn with disbelief, ping-ponging back and forth between two equally farfetched possibilities. 

Willow sighed, feeling sorry for her friend.  <Willow the Wanton or Willow the Liar..  Poor Buffy...> 

"Angel wants to protect me, Buffy,"  Willow turned utterly sincere eyes to her friend.  Buffy did not look completely convinced.  "You yourself have said--he's a perfect gentleman!" she reminded her friend. 

She saw the truth finally hit home in Buffy's eyes.  Willow suppressed the desire to do a victory dance.  <Finally!!!> 

Buffy gaped, flabbergasted that Willow seduced Angel. 

Still, deep in Buffy's mind, a fragile thread of reason screamed out against it as ridiculous.  "But last night!"  Her voice sparked with disbelief.  "Xander says that he abducted you!" 

"Last night-,"  Willow hesitated, not wanting to go on, but...<Buffy needs to hear the truth to really understand.> 

"-on our way to The Bronze," Willow swallowed a painful lump in her throat. 

It was hard, but she continued, choking his name, "Xander-"  A sob escaped. 

Buffy's arms immediately enclosed her friend in a comforting hug.  Willow buried her face against her friend's shoulder, letting tears escape for several moments.  "He loves you, Buffy-" she whispered when she calmed down enough to speak. 

Buffy stroked her friend's hair soothingly.  "I'm sorry Xander keeps reminding you, Willow," she said wistfully, wishing she could make the pain go away.  "I wish Xander wasn't so dense..." 

<So do I...>  Willow pulled away from Buffy, getting a grip.  <This isn't fair to her.> 

Willow used the sleeve of Angel's shirt to scrub away her tears.  "Anyway, Angel's been following me around, protecting me from those stupid vampires," she continued. At the moment, those stupid vampires seemed almost surreal.  <I have too many other things to worry about!>" 

"He overheard us talking--I think maybe he heard me start crying,"  Willow giggled hysterically, "and the next thing I know I'm slung over his shoulder, heading up a fire escape."  Buffy managed a faintly queasy smile, valiantly attempting to seem amused. 

"I'm not sure if he was just jealous and wanting to get back at Xander or trying to stop me from getting hurt..."  Willow trailed off, wondering suddenly exactly what had prompted her abduction.  <I never stopped to ask...> 

"Once we were on the roof, he offered to let me go,"  Willow resumed her explanation, deciding to ask Angel later. 

"But after he kissed me..."  Willow shrugged slightly; leaving the rest unsaid.   "I went with him willingly,"  she finished.  Buffy continued to gaze at her, obviously disturbed by her friend's VERY strange behavior. 

Willow stared down at the sidewalk, unable to understand why Buffy remained so shocked.  <I mean...she's kissed him!  She KNOWS what it's like!> 

They resumed walking home in silence, each wrapped in personal thought. 

"Was he good?"  The question came out of nowhere, torn from Buffy against her will. 

Willow stared at her friend blankly, not comprehending. 

Buffy turned scarlet, stammering,  "In bed?"