Friendship

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

Willow sat up, the final fragments of her dream dissolving.  The exact details became vague as dreams tend to do when the mind awakens too suddenly.  She wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep and recapture the dream, but it was too late.  <Was it real...?  A dream...?  Am I nuts...?!> 

Thankfully, her headache was gone.  She still felt somewhat tired, but was able to move without blinding pain.  <Remarkable, really, considering what reading Mike's mind did to me.  It's as if the link with Angel doesn't take as much out of me...> 

Willow frowned, concentrating on her newly discovered "ability" as Mike helped her out of the car.  She sensed both her now dormant ability and her bond with Angel.  Their connection was reassuring--now that she recognized it for what it was.  <It's as if he's here, with me...> 

In contrast--and to her relief--she felt no such connection with Mike.  Willow's skin crawled at the thought of being tied to him.  Her experience with him cast a dark shadow over his bright charisma; even the idea of reestablishing a telepathic link now seemed repugnant. <He has an ugly soul.  He's not beautiful the way Angel is...> 

Oblivious, the object of her disparaging thoughts closed the limo door behind her.  "Sean is inside," he informed her.  "I'm certain he's looking forward to meeting you."  Willow nodded absently.  <I'm certain that the pleasure is ALL his...> 

Mike gestured towards an imposing house of palatial proportions.  It boasted a combination of Spanish Colonial and New England architectural features.  Peter stood patiently near the open front door, waiting for them. 

In the twilight, the mansion seemed majestic and lonely among the forest of Monterey cypress and pines dotting the rocky terrain.  Willow heard the ocean resounding in the distance.  <Let's see, they grabbed me around eleven-thirty and it's maybe five 'o'clock now.  We traveled north along the California coast... and the Monterey pines are really a dead give-away.> 

"Has Sean lived in Monterey his whole life?"  she asked Mike sweetly.  She batted her eyelashes vacuously at him as Vincent drove off in the limo.  <It looks like we're in the middle of nowhere.  If I manage to escape, I'll have A LOT of wilderness to hike through.  Unless I can steal the limo...> 

Mike chuckled good-naturedly in appreciation.  "Only for the last three years," he replied.  "Before that, we resided in Atlanta."  He gestured for her to head toward the house. Willow began to slowly walk that direction, taking in her surroundings.  Mike followed her from a circumspect distance.  Willow gnawed her lip as another negative thought occurred to her.  <Even if I DO manage to steal the limo, I don't know how to drive yet...> 

Willow paused upon reaching the entryway.  Two more intimidating guards dressed in dark suits stood in the foyer.  <More MiB's!>  Mike came to a halt beside her.  He nodded politely to the guards, who nodded back.  He then gently placed a hand upon Willow's back, urging her forward.  Willow nearly leapt through the front door in her hurry to escape from his touch.  She gaped in awe at the house's interior.  <OH, WOW!> 

The foyer was fabulous; its sheer grandeur and opulence took several moments to absorb.  Its white marble floor turned into a wide, gracefully curving stairway leading upwards.  Hallways were visible to both the right and the left of the stairway.  To the right of the foyer, Willow spied an enormous ballroom. 

Stained glass windows adorned the walls, each possessing an automated shutter which, upon being closed, blocked out all light.  The shutters were not closed and the final light of the evening sun breathed fire and life into the magnificent panes of glass.  Willow found herself wishing for direct sunlight.  <I'll bet that they're incredible!> 

An enormous natural stone fireplace sat in the far corner of the ballroom with a plush red velvet couch arranged in front of it.  Nearby, a grand piano dominated the room even in its silence; no doubt, it dominated the entire house when played.  A large crystal chandelier and mirrored walls in which revelers could indulge their vanities completed the luxury of the ballroom. 

Mike gave her a moment to drink it all in.  "This way," he said finally, indicating the stairs.  Willow headed up the stairs, absently noting that Peter and the two guards did not follow.  Mike escorted her up two long flights of stairs to the third story.  A spiral stairway extended upwards yet another floor to the mansion's bell tower attic. <Boy, Sean sure does like stairs.> 

They walked down a long hallway and paused outside of a closed door.  Mike paused to open the door for her and stood aside, indicating she should enter.  Willow walked in, peering curiously about the room.  The room was richly decorated in pastels with plenty of Victorian fandangle.  Dark mahogany furniture included a canopied bed draped with flowing frilly curtains and a colossal vanity.  <So where's Sean...?!  This is a girl's room...!!!> 

Mike entered behind her and switched on a lamp that illuminated the room better.  "These will be your accommodations while you're visiting with us," he explained.  Willow sighed.  <Ah, Mike.  Still continuing to pretend that I'm an honored guest instead of an unwilling prisoner?> 

"The bathroom is through here."  He indicated a room off to the right.  Willow turned slightly to peer in the direction he'd indicated.  Mike walked over to a large mahogany armoire and opened one of the doors.  "Clothing in your size has been provided."  A small smile tugged at Willow's lips.  <I see... So, I'm to make myself "presentable" for Lord Sean...> 

Mike closed the door and made to leave the bedroom.  Bemused, Willow still stood in the center of the room.  She turned to watch him leave.  "Please take an hour or so to freshen up.  I'll be back shortly after sundown to escort you to dinner."  He flashed her his now familiar smile.  Willow shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.  <Dinner?  For who?!  Me or Sean?!> 

"Dinner?" she asked cautiously, feeling like a succulent baby oyster being invited to dinner with a hungry walrus.  <And what or WHO exactly is on the menu?!> 

Mike's grin widened lasciviously.  "Sean is delighted to be having you for supper!" he assured her.  For the life of her, Willow couldn't tell whether or not he jested.  <Well, Sean's not going to find THIS oyster all that easy to open!  That's for sure!  Wait a second...!!  What am I thinking...?!!  I'm not a bivalve!!  And Sean's not a walrus!> 

Mike laughed heartily at the dismayed expression upon her face.  "Don't worry Willow," he assured her softly.  "Sean is a gentleman... He wouldn't dream of eating a guest for dinner, especially a lovely lady."  He paused for effect, watching relief replace the dismay on her face.  Then he added, "DESSERT, of course, is another matter entirely!" 

Willow stared after him with renewed distress.  He strolled out into the hall, closing the door behind him.  The door locked with a click.  His laughter echoed in the room long after he absented himself from it.  <He's kidding... I HOPE... OH GOD, PLEASE!!!  TELL ME HE'S KIDDING...!!!> 
 

It took Willow less than an hour to shower and change.  At first, she considered being stubborn and refusing to "pretty" herself up.  However, six hours in the limo left her feeling grungy and tired.  Finally, she decided to dress up to please herself, not him.  A hot shower helped immensely, leaving her feeling refreshed.  <Much Better!> 

All of the clothing in the mahogany armoire consisted of expensive dresses made of silk, cashmere, and other precious and delicate fabrics.  All in her size, just as Mike said.  An image of Mike and Peter pawing through her underwear drawer popped into Willow's head.  The very idea sent her temper and her temperature soaring.  <Ooohhh!  How DARE they?!>  Fuming, Willow grabbed a modest, old-fashioned ivory dress made of silk and lace and dressed in a hurry. 

She sat down in front of the vanity to brush out her towel-dried hair and discovered that the hot shower removed all traces of the makeup Buffy applied earlier to cover her "hickey".  <Wonderful, just wonderful...  Actually, this may work to my advantage!  If I play up the "consort" angle, this provides supporting evidence that I'm "taken"...> 

She checked the vanity for cosmetics and came up empty-handed.  Apparently, the someone--obviously a man, since a WOMAN wouldn't forget something this important--hadn't seen fit to provide makeup.  To top it off, her bookbag--and hence, her cosmetics--were still in the limo. 

Willow sighed longingly, her thoughts drifting to regrets as she dwelled on Angel.  <I wish now I'd taken advantage of that dream in order to discuss important things with Angel, instead of arguing with him.  Like, does he even KNOW that I've been snatched?  I mean, surely Giles would have told him after Principal Snyder... Unless!  What if that little toad didn't tell anyone?!> 

The prospect of truly being in this ALONE propelled Willow into motion.  She jumped up from the vanity and rushed over to the bedroom window.  Its metal shutters were securely closed; Willow could not force them open.  The door to her room would not open either and there were not any other entrances.  Willow panicked and began hyperventilating.  <THINK!  STOP REACTING AND CALM DOWN!!> 

She flopped down onto the bed, struggling for calm.  The goose down mattress sank under her weight, accommodating and cradling her like an infant.  <I'm not helpless... I can read minds now!>  Her stomach turned over at the unpleasant memory of being in Mike's mind.  <Sharing that level of intimacy is more personal than sex and invading a mind without permission seems akin to rape.> 

Willow tried to push her disgust aside and evaluate her telepathy analytically.  It would be a useful way of gathering information... but far too dangerous to risk.  She vividly recalled Angel's warning about leaving herself open.  <I was lucky that Mike possesses no telepathic ability.  He couldn't detect me or retaliate.  And I'm even luckier Angel--> 

A soft knock on the door interrupted her introspection. 
 

The uplifting strains of Strauss' Blue Danube waltz swelled up the stairway to greet them on their way down.  Willow felt herself being lifted and carried away by the spectacularly vivid music.  <It's too perfect to be anything but a recording...> 

Upon reaching the landing, Mike turned towards the ballroom.  He passed her and the guards, not waiting to see if Willow followed.  Willow caught her breath in pleasure as she caught sight of the waltzing couple who swept across the dance floor as if in flight. 

The woman wore a traditional flowing ballgown; the man an antique tuxedo.  Apart, both were regal.  Together, they were stunning.  <Like a storybook gentleman and his lady transported out of time...> 

In the dim light of the ballroom, dancing alone across the white marble floor, they were magical.  Only their reflection in the mirrored walls accompanied them in their flight.  <INTERESTING!  Vampires aren't supposed to reflect!> 

The waltz began to wind down, its final strains dying as gracefully as a swan.  The couple slowed with the music and landed as the music ended.  As they came to a graceful finale, the gentleman offered his lady a courtly bow.  She curtsied coquettishly and smiled flirtatiously while fanning herself. 

The couple turned to greet Mike as he entered.  As the lights brightened, Willow gasped in shock.  <Angel!>  She took several halting infant steps toward him.  Reason cried out against it even as her heart bounded with joy.  Her movement drew his attention and he turned to her.  <Not Angel!  Sean!> 

Willow was stunned.  She'd expected a family resemblance but NOT this.  This man's striking good looks floored her.  Other than minor differences, he looked exactly like Angel.  <If anything, he's MORE handsome, MORE perfect!  This *isn't* humanly possible...!!!> 

Sean, Willow surmised, offered her a warm smile of greeting and his dance partner his arm.  His partner--a lovely black woman--accepted and they sashayed across the room toward her.  Willow gathered her nerve and her courage, mentally gearing up for the coming confrontation.  Inwardly, she wanted to quail in terror and run.  Outwardly, she held her ground despite her timid nature.  <Just remember, show no fear... If they smell blood, they'll rip me to shreds...> 

"Willow, allow me to present Sean."  Mike executed a formal introduction.  Sean extended his hand, which Willow deliberately ignored.  Tension gathered between them with palpable force. 

"Willow?"  Sean peered at her curiously, tilting his head exactly like Angel.  Willow felt her world bottom out.  The last of her skepticism, her last doubt, her last subconscious denial died.  <He looks like Angel, sounds like him, and acts like him.  This IS Angel's brother!  Not an impostor, not an illusion, not a trick!> 

Her gaze sidled away from his very dark, very penetrating eyes to the stunning young black woman.  <Possibly Mike's sister...?>  Mike smoothed over Willow's pointed silence by moving on with the introductions.  He gestured toward the woman.  "And my mother, Tanya."  <Mother...?!  OH!  She's a vampire too...> 

"Hello," Tanya nodded curtly.  Her stare was icy, hostile, and derisive. 

Tanya's cold bitchiness provoked Willow beyond timid to mad.  Already tense and frightened to the point of snapping like a tightly drawn guitar string, Willow lost it.  <HAUGHTY, CONDESCENDING BITCH!> 

She directed her anger at both of them, widening her scalding glare to include Sean. "I'm_NOT_afraid of you and I_WON'T_bow down before you!"  Willow spat the words like venom through clenched teeth.  Sean's eyes widened and darkened; he looked faintly surprised.  <He's used to seeing bowing and scraping...> 

"My, doesn't *she* have lovely man--," Tanya began with sugar sweet sarcasm. 

"Enough," Sean cut her off with a word.  His manner changed from friendly to commanding.  He radiated casual power.  "Michael, take your mother upstairs," he dictated.  He held Willow in his gaze, inspecting and evaluating her carefully.  <...and doesn't know quite what to make of me...> 

Willow and Sean stood in icy silence while the room emptied faster than a flooded ant colony.  Mike took his mother's arm, gathered the guards with a glance, and rapidly departed from the room. Sean stepped closer to her, invading her personal space.  He carried himself like a god.  Willow glared up at him, unwilling to worship him.  <I'd rather die.> 

"So, you won't bow down before me?"  He asked the question with a bizarre blend of arrogance and mild curiosity.  To Willow's outrage, amusement gleamed in his eyes.  He leaned closer, his lips inches from hers. 

"NO."  The denial leapt from her with the force of a kick.  Willow stood her ground, refusing to yield to his intimidation.  She braced herself against the expected onslaught.  <Here it comes...> 

Sean smiled, his eyes warming with approval.  "You're magnificent," he complimented with sincere admiration.  He then retreated slightly, gracefully giving ground and conceding the battle.  "No wonder Angel has chosen you." 

Willow scowled.  Willow glared.  Willow fumed.  Willow felt silly.  <I'm getting SICK of the bad guys out maneuvering me!> 

"I'll confess," Sean confided softly, "I wasn't expecting this degree of hostility from my brother's consort."  He cocked his head again in an Angel-like expression of curiosity.  "Have I done something to offend you?"  His mild manner and polite phrasing somehow made Willow feel like offending party.  <I can't believe that a vampire is managing to guilt trip me!> 

"You kidnapped me!"  Willow cried in outraged disbelief.  <The NERVE!  As if I'VE done something wrong!> 

"I'm sorry," Sean apologized patiently.  "If there's something I can do to make it up to you." He trailed off with an expansively generous display. 

"You could let me go," Willow suggested sarcastically. 

"I assure you, I will." Sean sighed.  "As soon as I speak with my brother.  I don't suppose you know his phone number?" 

"Nope," Willow smirked.  For once, she felt happy not to know something about Angel.  "And I wouldn't tell you if I did," she added for affect.  <No need for him to start wondering why Angel's consort doesn't--> 

"I was hoping that someone as important to Angel as you obviously are would at least be privy to his phone number," Sean commented, watching her reaction to his words observantly.  Willow did not miss his meaningful glance at her neck.  She valiantly managed not to blush 

"Angel just moved."  The words popped out her mouth faster than thought.  "I haven't had time to memorize his new number yet."  Her lips curved smugly.  "Sorry," she apologized insincerely.  Sean regarded her in silence, obviously thinking. 

"What makes you think that I'm that important to Angel?"  Willow contested with false bravado.  She resented the smugness and efficiency of his neat trap too much not to challenge it.  <Even though it probably isn't the smartest thing in the world for me to do... If he begins to question my value as a hostage...> 

"I know my brother. This is a matter of the heart and of honor."  Sean shrugged philosophically.  "He'll come."  Sensual appraisal briefly flashed in his eyes.  He smiled slightly, making Willow feel like a prize.  "In his place, I would."  His backhanded compliment brought a soft flush of pleasure to her face.  Willow hastily smashed her unwanted and unwelcome feminine reaction underfoot like a disgusting bug. 

"What do you intend to do to him?"  Willow asked, somewhat fearfully.  Some of her bravery slipped at the prospect of Sean harming Angel.  <Acting brave is easy when it's only me at risk...> 

"To him?"  Sean looked surprised.  "Nothing.  It's been over eighty years since I last saw him... Since anyone has seen him."  He met her gaze with sad regret.  "I've missed him," he stated simply.  Despite herself, Willow believed him.  <No!  I can't!  He's a demon and this is trickery!> 

Willow frowned at Sean intently, determined to regard him as a demon, as a vampire.  As someone she definitively and sincerely DID NOT like.  <Despite the fact that he seems likeable enough!  But so did Mike and he wound up being a manipulative... jerk.  Angel is the only cuddly vampire I know!> 

"Eighty years.?"  Willow mumbled, automatically doing the math in her head.  <That's when he came to America and disappeared.  Twenty years after he was cursed.  If that was the last time Angel and Sean spoke, does Sean know about the curse?  Could they have some sort of brotherly relationship, despite it?> 

Sean tilted his head slightly as he gracefully shifted his position a couple feet closer to her.  "You seem distressed by something else also?"  He inquired into her feelings cautiously, but with readily apparent concern. 

Willow sent him an 'Of course, you fool' look and pointedly did not address his concern.  Her chin jutted out in a very Buffy-like expression of defiance.  In exasperation, Sean tried once more.  "Is there something in particular you find offensive about me?" 

Willow almost growled in frustration.  She almost wished that Sean would *do* something to make himself more dislikeable.  <That way, I wouldn't need to explain my hostility.  Here it comes again... The same trap I fell into with Mike in the limo.  'Why do I like Angel and not *them*?'> 

<What the heck!  It doesn't matter if he understands or not!  I don't care what he thinks!>  "YOU ARE A VAMPIRE!"  Willow spelled it out boldly for him, enunciating clearly and concisely.  "I DO NOT LIKE VAMPIRES!" 

Sean stared at her in silence.  He cocked his head slightly to the side, considering.  His eyebrow climbed and wicked amusement lit his eyes.  "Does Angel know?" he asked with polite and exaggerated concern.