Friendship

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

Willow blinked.  Mike smiled patiently, enjoying her bemused response and waiting for her to recover.  Mike's words shed even more light upon the complex mess she now found herself involved in.  <And creates more shadows too.  Angel's brother...  I wonder...?!> 

"In what sense?"  she asked.  "Brother by blood or brother by...?" Willow trailed off, trying to figure the best way to phrase this.  "Was Darla...?" 

"Yes." Mike replied.  "To both questions.  Sean is Angel's younger brother by blood and Darla was also his sire."  He kept smiling and settled back into his seat, prepared to answer any questions that might occur to her. 

The limo turned off of Sunnydale's Main St. into a Burger King parking lot.  Willow's stomach kicked in with a triumphant growl, cheering the prospect of food.  Willow tried to ignore it and focus on her more pressing concerns.  <Hmm, since I don't exactly have a global positioning satellite following my location, Buffy probably isn't going to be able to find me.  And I'm not exactly feeling Kosher about being used as bait to trap Angel.  I need to figure out what these goons want, so that I can figure out how to escape.> 

"So what exactly does Sean want with me?"  Willow asked, staring hard at him.  More than anything she wanted to know what he was really thinking.  <I wish that I could just reach inside of his skull...> 

"Sean wants nothing more than to locate his long-lost brother and to be reunited with him."  Mike smiled benignly; Willow suppressed a derisive snort.  <...and know what he's thinking.>  As Mike spoke Willow watched the play of expressions on his face intently, focused completely upon him.  His face revealed nothing more than his words.  "Sean is hoping that having you will be enough to--" 

Mike's words stumbled and he winced slightly.  Willow felt something between them, between their minds, flicker briefly.  Willow instinctively reached for the connection, straining intently on gaining access to his mind while the rest of her thoughts scattered like marbles.  <What..?!!> 

"--convince Angel..."  Mike tried to continue, then faltered again. "...to..."  He reached for his head with both hands, moaning softly in pain.  Willow felt his last mental defense break under her assault. <There!> 

Suddenly, her world flipped inside out.  Something inside of her head, a previously unused portion of her mind, switched on.  Willow gasped in shock, reeling under the impact of a tidal wave of foreign emotions flooding her mind.  She struggled to keep afloat of the tide ebbing into her mind.  The experience overwhelmed her so thoroughly that she was unable to even verbalize her own thoughts and impressions. 

Mike's nose began to bleed.  "Dammit!"  he exclaimed vehemently.  He reached for a wad of Kleenex from the limo's dispenser and pressed them against his nose, tilting his head back. 

Willow grappled with evaluating the impressions being fed to her... his emotions, his thoughts, his memories.  He seemed completely unaware of her presence in his head.  She sensed the terrible headache being caused by her telepathic assault, his keen intelligence and sharp reason, his unflappable good nature and excellent sense of humor, his incredible wile and honed predatorial instincts... <No wonder he's been chosen to become a vampire...!!  Every look, every gesture, every word was carefully crafted to manipulate me!> 

From Mike's foremost thoughts she received his impressions of her.  He thought her naive, gentle, and overly timid.  He respected her intelligence and was highly impressed with her computer talents.  She sensed his intense curiosity regarding her importance to his boss... He believed Sean wanted Willow for something more sinister than trapping Angel, but knew not why.  <He's telling the truth about Kindred being civil...  At least, they appear to be that way on the surface.  As far as he knows...> 

From his memories she concluded that Mike was neither mad nor brainwashed.  His vampires, his 'Kindred', treated their descendants well, protecting and caring for them.  His childhood memories were of a secure and generally happy childhood growing up in Atlanta.  In glaring contrast to the seeming normalcy of his upbringing were his memories of the man he called father.  <Sean again...  He was raised by a vampire...!!> 

The glass panel separating the front seat from the back suddenly began to roll down.  Startled, Willow let the telepathic link break.  Peter turned around with a Burger King bag in his hands.  Concern briefly replaced his perpetual scowl at the sight of Mike's bloody nose.  "Hey, Mike!  Are you al'right?" he asked. 

"I'm fine, thanks," Mike responded, not sounding his usual cheerful self.  Willow collapsed against her seat in sudden exhaustion.  Her head felt like a melon split open with an ice pick.  Her mind reeled with disbelief and shock as the ramifications of what had just occurred began to sink in.  <I'm going nuts!!  It isn't possible.!!  I CAN'T.!!  I'M NOT.!!!> 

"I have a terrible migraine," Mike groaned, reaching for the food. Willow winced in agreement as her head hit the seat.  <So do I...> 

Exhausted, Willow lay still trying not to move.  Moving hurt.  Motion of any kind meant exquisite and blinding pain.  Even thinking hurt.  On top of everything else, she felt nauseous.  She'd grown increasingly ill during the last several hours as the limo's route carried it along California's long and windy coastal Highway 5.  Luckily, she'd barely touched her Whopper value meal. 

Mike did not seem to be in much better shape.  He'd remained quiet and withdrawn since the limo left Sunnydale.  She drifted quietly with her eyes shut, her mind numbly receiving the sounds her ears captured.  She heard only the sounds of the road and the quiet hum of the limo's engine.  Occasionally, Mike shifted position in the seat across from her. 

The soft whir of the glass partition separating the front seat from the back being lowered again reached her ears.  Willow deliberately remained still, even as her ears perked up like a cat hearing the soft rustling of a mouse. 

"Is she asleep?" asked Peter's gruff voice. 

"Yeah," Mike replied softly.  "I think the trauma of being kidnapped wore her out." 

"Poor kid," Peter commented.  "She reminds me of my sister's kid, Amy. All that pretty red hair--Sean is going to love her." 

"Yeah, well, you know the boss," Mike chuckled softly, mindful not to disturb the sleeping girl.  "He loves the lovely ladies." 

"What do you think he wants her for?" Peter asked. 

"Don't know," Mike commented noncommittally.  Despite Peter's obvious desire to gossip, loyalty kept his lips sealed.  "Not my place to question.  So what's up?" 

"Vincent found these..."  The soft crackle of papers changing hands accompanied his words, "...in that piece of junk car that he snatched from the faculty parking lot." 

"Hey!" Vincent's spoke at slightly above normal conversational tones, making his words sound like a shout next to their whispers. 

"Shhh," Peter shushed him.  "The kid's trying to sleep." 

Vincent dropped his voice to a dramatic whisper.  "It was convenient, all right?  'Sides, we're supposed to be body guards, not kidnappers... It's not MY fault someone forgot to arrange for an unmarked car." 

Peter began to reply, but Mike cut him off.  "Knock it off," he commanded.  The sound of papers being riffled accompanied his next words.  "So what are these?" he questioned. 

"Looks like research notes about dreams, and nightmares, or some such," Peter replied.  "It's pretty jumbled and some of that handwriting is hard to decipher.  But that's not what's important."  Papers were shuffled.  "Here," Peter rapped on something hard with a loud tap, "this is a Watcher's Journal by the looks of it." 

Mike ummed agreeably.  The creak of a relatively new binding being opened accompanied his acknowledgment. 

"And get this--" Peter continued, "you're not going to believe this--it looks like we've stumbled across the Slayer's identity..."  He trailed off, theatrically allowing the suspense to build, "One Buffy Summers." 

There was no response.  The sound of pages turning filled the silence. 

"Mike?"  Peter queried, sounding somewhat uncertain.  "This is good, right?  The boss is gonna be happy, right?" 

Willow could hear the smile in Mike's voice, "Yeah, Peter, Sean is gonna be thrilled."  She shuddered softly and turned further away from them toward the door.  The slight movement caused another torturous spasm of pain in her head.  A tear trickled past her closed eyelid and down her cheek as she drifted further into healing sleep.  <Angel what have you gotten us into...?> 

Willow blinked in confusion, turning her head to stare at the familiar interior of The Bronze.  She wandered towards the dance floor, absently noting the soulful throb of "Sugar Water" by Cibo Matto pulsing in the background.  <How'd I get here?  The limo...?!  Mike...?!> 

Faceless people pulsed through the club, each a cell flowing through a beating heart.  Motion ruled the night; music dictated to the hearts of those who danced in it.  Willow lost herself in the surreal imagery, letting dream become her reality.  She stopped at the edge of the dance floor, fascinated by the swaying bodies.  Abruptly, her mind froze, becoming devoid of any thought; her body stilled, lacking direction and motion.  Her soul cried out in horror at the cruelty of the music. 

Her eyes fastened on the entwined figures of a man and a woman.  They moved rhythmically together, surging, pulsing, dancing with the beat of the music.  Her heart collided solidly with her throat, every beat echoing hollowly through her soul as she watched her love, her heart, her hope draining away.  Again. 

She turned and fled, plowing through the throngs, heedless of the bodies she collided with.  Tears spilled down her cheeks obscuring her vision and she tripped, stumbling painfully into an exit.  Behind her, he shouted her name. 

The sound of his voice inspired panic.  <Oh, God!  Just run!  Got to get away, before he sees me crying.  He can't find out how much I feel for him!> 

She threw herself bodily against the door, using her weight and momentum to carry it open and fling herself forward into the street. She turned randomly down an alleyway and fled, pouring her anguish and pain into speed, letting the physical exertion carry her from the pain. 

Her hand brushed the brick facing on the northwest corner of The Bronze's building when she heard the door slam open again with a tremendous boom.  He shouted her name again, demanding she stop.  She rounded the corner, running as hard and fast as she could, running for her life.  She could hear his footsteps behind her on the pavement. 

He stopped calling her name and abandoned himself to the chase; they became hunter and hunted.  The night rang with silence save for the steady pounding of his feet and her feet on cement.  She outpaced him for almost two blocks before the strain of physical exertion began to dull her desperate speed.  The hunter's superior stamina prevailed and he closed on his prey, overtaking her. 

His arm fastened securely around her waist from behind, yanking her off her feet.  Her breath was forced from her lungs as his arm tightened like a noose and her forward momentum carried her stomach into a solid collision with the arm.  His chest pressed intimately against her back, his hips against her bottom as she dangled on his arm. 

"LET--" she gasped, slamming her elbow into his ribs with all of her strength.  At the same time she stepped down hard on his foot, grinding her heel into his instep.  Angel growled in anger and released his hold. 

"--ME GO!"  Willow spun, swinging her fist wildly.  Her fist connected with the side of his head dealing a glancing blow.  Angel's head turned slightly at the blow, more in surprise than in pain. 

"WILLOW!!"  The word erupted from Angel with a snarl.  He seized the wrist of her offending hand, capturing it securely in his own.  "Stop it!"  Willow swung again with her free fist, wanting nothing more than to hurt him for hurting her.  Her off-handed fist whizzed harmlessly by his face.  His other hand snatched it out of the air like a pop-fly baseball. 

"You don't understand--" he began, desperate to explain. 

"I DO UNDERSTAND!"  Willow shouted into his face, furious that he would lie.  She struggled against his hold on her wrists and only succeeded in hurting herself.  Angry tears streamed down her cheeks.  "I'M NOT STUPID!!" 

"I only just found out," his eyes pleaded with hers for understanding, for patience.  Her tear-filled eyes could not see.  "I know this looks bad.  I wanted to tell you but--"  The image of HIM with HER flashed through her mind again. 

"YOU WANTED TO TELL ME BUT WHAT?!" she screamed.  She would have slapped him but her hands were bound by his.  So she reached out mentally and attacked his mind instead. 

<YOU BETRAYED ME!!>  She expressed her pain and anguish at his betrayal with a powerful telepathic assault on his mind.  Angel staggered under the impact, nearly pulling her down with him.  He howled in agony as his face transformed; his eyes burned with killing rage.  He snarled into her face, showing teeth. 

Willow's brief attack faltered abruptly in intensity.  She lacked the strength and the discipline to sustain a prolonged and powerful onslaught.  She felt the demonic fury of a provoked vampire rising within Angel and instinctively knew that he could not protect himself from her and maintain control at the same time. 

Confusion and sheer fright drove the final remnants of her anger away. The final vestiges of her attack subsided.  However the mental link between them remained open, allowing him easy access to her mind.  She cowered away from him in stark terror, trying futility to yank her arms and mind free from his grip. 

His grip on her slender wrists tightened like steel jaw traps on the delicate limbs of some soft creature.  The inhumanly beautiful darkness of his mind wrapped itself around hers like a velvet blanket, smothering her light.  <I never betrayed you!>  His furious denial hissed through her mind.  <But you invaded my mind and attacked me!>  Bitterness accompanied the accusation. 

Willow froze, numb with shock.  She heard his thoughts inside of her head with the clarity of sound; she sensed his emotions with the vividness of color.  "Angel, please?"  Willow pleaded, staring up at him.  She stopped trying to free herself, submitting docilely to his hold on her.  "What's happening?" she questioned in a small, frightened whisper. 

He stared at her coldly for a moment, his mind still operating with the cruel analytical efficiency of a killer.  His hold on her hands gentled; however, his imprisoning hold on her mind did not.  "You're some sort of latent psychic," Angel supplied brusquely.  "You attacked me psionically." 

Willow stared at him silent wonder.  The unsettling memory of her unpleasant and disturbing conflict with him this morning returned to haunt her.  At the time she buried it deeply in her subconscious, unwilling and unable to examine it more closely.  Now, at last, she understood what happened in those few brief moments as their minds brushed.  Willow felt her ability to disbelieve slipping away, almost deadened under the impact of what her senses told her.  <This can't be for real...> 

"It is," he asserted with that harsh bluntness again.  His unwavering certainty did more to convince her of the truth than any words could have.  That and the callous deathgrip he retained on her mind.  <It's true.  I did attack him.>  Willow tried to eradicate the sick fear growing in her stomach.  <Angel won't hurt me...> 

Abruptly, sanity returned to his dark eyes.  Then, as suddenly, Angel's will clamped down on his own dark nature, bringing it under control. His eyes softened with sympathy; humanity restoring his face.  She felt his heart warm with affection for her.  His remorse and regret for having frightened her were overwhelming.  Angel released her wrists and uncoiled his mind from around hers, withdrawing swiftly like a shadow retreating before direct light. 

"I won't hurt you," he confirmed gently.  Willow could see the truth in his eyes; eyes she trusted. Willow felt his mental defenses reassert themselves and the link binding their minds together subsided into silence.  The link was dormant, but not gone.  She frowned as she sensed him straining against it, trying to snap in completely.  <?!> 

Angel stepped back, physically and emotionally distancing himself from her.  Willow could feel the emotional gulf between them widening with his withdrawal.  She stared after him with endless longing, her heart crying out against its loss.  <I've earned his distrust... and destroyed our closeness...  Everything we've been through together can't be for nothing!  I WONT allow it!> 

"How can this be?"  Willow edged forward, drawing closer to him.  She swallowed, gathering her nerve to risk his rejection and reached for his hand.  He stared down at her proffered hand but didn't take it.  Willow cringed but kept her hand extended a moment longer in the most courageous act of her life. 

Angel hesitated, carefully measuring his words, before speaking.  "I'm not sure.  Mind reading is not my forte," he finally supplied.  Willow began to withdraw her hand, fighting back tears.  <It all was for nothing...> 

Angel suddenly grasped her retreating hand.  Her fingers were cold and numb within his, but at least they were being held.  Relief lifted her being.  <We're still friends...>  She tightened her grasp on his hand and he returned the pressure. 

"You're... strong but you lack the strength necessary to sustain an attack and the training necessary to close the link after you weaken. The attack was powerful but brief.  And you left yourself wide-open when you faltered.  I reacted and almost..."  Sorrow lined his forehead and tightened his voice.  "I could have..." 

She shivered as their eyes met.  She knew Angel well enough to recognize the distance in his eyes and the reason for it.  <He'll hold himself apart from me if he even suspects that he might harm me for any reason.  And now he's thinking that...> 

"What link?"  Willow interrupted, hoping to distract him.  She could still feel the connection between them.  Experimentally, Willow reached out and touched it.  It flared briefly to life under her touch and she suspected that with some practice she could learn to manipulate it. Resentment replaced the sorrow on Angel's face as he felt it.  The link acted as an unpleasant reminder of her intrusion and attack. Immediately she let it die again, but the damage was already done. 

"Our minds are bound together.  MINE to YOURS."  He ground the words out at her.  His stare sliced open her soul.  "The first time I felt it was after I woke up.  You must have reached into my mind while my defenses were down."  The accusation in his eyes nearly reduced her to tears again.  Angel felt betrayed and violated by her intrusion into his mind.  "It's the same kind of thing that a vampire would do to someone they're trying to control." 

"I couldn't!"  Willow shook her head sharply in denial. "I wouldn't! Not on purpose!"  Her eyes pleaded with his expressively, begging for him to believe her.  <Angel, please...> 

"You did,"  Angel ground his teeth together in suppressed frustration. He let go of her hand and turned away, pacing like a caged animal. Willow shifted uneasily.  His aggressive movements bespoke buried frustration and suppressed violence.   "I feel like I've been leashed. I swore long ago I'd never submit to another master."  He turned back to her, his eyes lighting dangerously.  "If it was anyone but you..." 

Willow stared at him, understanding his unspoken words all too well. "You'd kill them."  Horror crept over her face and she cringed.  <I shouldn't have said that!>  Angel stepped closer to her, reaching for her.  She backed up, retreating from him in fear. 

"Don't look like that!" Angel lunged suddenly and swept her up into his arms.  He hugged her tightly and buried his face in her hair.  Willow sighed and settled happily into his embrace.  His hand rubbed the back of her neck sending an unspoken message of reassurance. 

"I know this was an accident.  I trust you not to control me against my will..."  Angel trailed off thoughtfully.  He kissed the top of her head.  "Psionically, you're not strong enough to dominate anyone... Yet."  Willow felt a burst of apprehension.  <Yet?!> 

Angel didn't seem to notice what he'd implied.  "I don't think that you could have forged this link if I hadn't let you in."  His hands cradled the sides of her head and he turned her face upwards in order to peer into her eyes.  "You must try to help me break this link Willow."  The underlying urgency in his words and his eyes reinforced the importance of his request. 

"I'll try but I don't know how,"  Willow frowned in helpless frustration.  Her hurt that he found this level of intimacy with her so repugnant showed in her eyes.  <I'm being silly... Of course he doesn't want me in his head!> 

"It's not that," Angel said softly, smoothing away her pout with his fingers.  "My head is NOT a safe place for you to be."  For the briefest moment, he let her feel fully how much this threatened his control over the suppressed rage and the maliciousness inherent in his own dark nature. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling numb and very, very lucky.  "I didn't mean to."  <He's afraid that I'll reopen the link and provoke him over...>  Willow frowned, grappling with his jargon for things of a vampiric nature.  <..."the edge"...> 

"It's ok," Angel dismissed her apology.  He pulled her back into a hug.  Wry humor crept into his next words.  "You owed me one after the way I behaved."  Willow frowned, suddenly concerned.  <What's THAT supposed to mean?!  The way he behaved.?> 

Her hurt and jealousy abruptly returned with a vengeance.  Willow stiffened in his arms as she remembered EXACTLY why she had run from him.  "This has got to be a dream," he murmured softly, mostly to himself. 

Noticing her rigid posture, Angel drew back slightly.  His gaze was both curious and cautious.  "I *was* awake.  You must have pulled me in somehow," he speculated, eyeballing her scowl with trepidation.  Willow noticed him tensing; apparently, Angel now regarded her with some wariness. 

Willow blinked and her scowl cleared as the implication of what he'd said sank in.  A smile brightened her face like sunshine.  "You mean that you and Buffy weren't.?!"  As suddenly, her mouth rounded and her face turned beet red.  <BIG MOUTH!> 

Angel blinked, and tilted his head slightly, taking in her expressions.  He smiled faintly.  "Is that what you meant by betrayal?" he asked tenderly.  Mortified, Willow looked down.  Angel gently placed his fingers under her chin and drew her face back up.  Willow winced in embarrassment.   He regarded her for a painfully long moment, considering his words.  "Willow, I wouldn't do that to you." 

Willow stared into his eyes; they held commitment and maybe something deeper.  She believed him.  Throat too tight for speech, Willow wrapped her arms around him in a hug.  They clung together for a long time, rocking.  Angel clutched her to his chest like a life preserver in an ocean of despair.  Willow heard his whisper flutter softly in her hair. "Don't ever run from me again, Willow." 

"I won't," she promised.  <Not ever.  From now on I run to you.> 

He drew back slightly from her.  "Willow--" 

 "Willow."  Willow shifted groggily. 

"Willow."  Mike's melted-butter drawl infringed kindly on her sleep again.  Willow opened her eyes and blinked up at him in disoriented confusion.  <What...?!  Where...?!> 

"Time to wake up, honey."  Mike smiled gently.  "We're here."