Friendship

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

The formerly pristine ballroom was a battle ground of broken glass.  Mike, Tanya, and two guards turned to them, as Angel strode into the room.  His movements both aggressive and regal; Willow flanked him on one side and Sean on the other.  Guillaume came behind them, traveling at a much more sedate pace than the youngsters.  His dignified passage resembled that of a parent trailing along behind a pack of hyper children.  "Guillaume, what is the meaning of this?"  Tanya demanded imperiously, forgetting her place and her manners.  Willow's instant response was hostile and derisive.  <Not that she had any to begin with...!!> 

"Release Sean's people," Guillaume snapped, his temper hanging on a hair trigger.  Unexpectedly, his self-control fractured and his imperious cool began to slip.  "Before I rip you in half myself..." he threatened softly.  His eyes flashed angrily at being spoken to in such a disrespectful manner.  Instinctively, Tanya leapt to obey, releasing her mental hold upon the minds of Sean's servants.  The dark telepathic web disintegrated and the two guards present reeled as they regained control of their own facilities.  Mike shifted nervously, looking ready to run. 

"I don't understand--" Tanya began, having the sense to be confused and frightened.  Angel, Sean and Willow ground to a halt, maintaining a careful distance from mother and son.  To Willow's surprise, Angel reached for her hand and opened the link in order to question her privately.  <Can you keep Tanya out of my mind for a couple seconds?  I'm going to challenge her and she'll try to take over my mind before I can kill her...>  The thought was cunning, contemplative and calculating. 

"You wouldn't," Guillaume sneered, still moving at a leisurely stroll.  "Your kind never does..."  Willow hesitated, momentarily losing track of the conversation as her focus turned inward.  She shuddered with fear at the memory of what Tanya had tried to do to her the last time. But...  <Angel needs me...>  She gathered her courage and replied.  <I can try...>  Her response was weak, betraying her apprehension and dread.  Drawing upon all of her strength and discipline, she gathered their shields and prepared for combat.  <I'll hold out for as long as I can...> 

<That's all I can ask...  And more than I should....>  Angel's grim self-recrimination echoed through her mind.  He hated dragging her into this.  Their mental link deepened as she drew them closer together.  Willow abruptly became aware of the conflict ensuing within Angel's being.  He was barely maintaining a precarious hold upon his demon.  The demon hovered ominously close to the surface of his mind; its proximity and belligerent hostility hit Willow in a wave.  She deliberately tried to keep her mind blank.  <Careful...!  Don't draw its attention and don't interfere with Angel's control...!!> 

"...a traitor!!!"  Tanya declared.  Willow shifted uneasily, her attention briefly returning to the conversation.  Still, Angel and his demon worried her far more.  <This is bad...  He's barely in control...>  Indeed, he was skidding like a clown car on an icy track.  Still, he wasn't completely out of control yet.  Just mostly.  Through the link she perceived his struggle for dominance over the demon. They were rolling like a tumbleweed in a tornado, exchanging a malevolent series of blows.  <He let it out of its cage and now he's having trouble putting it back...> 

Another fragment of the conversation flashed by.  "...my favorite grandchildren..."  Guillaume's tone was harsh and hard; it could have cut diamonds.  Silently rooting for Angel, Willow baffled over what could have sent him so far over the edge.  <I wonder if it was that display downstairs...?  He was calling up his vampiric side, which he normally surpresses.  If he's not accustomed to dealing with it anymore, than that might account for this...>  The thought frightened her senseless.  <I've seen more than enough of "Angelus" for one lifetime...  AND we're about to engage in an absolutely deadly fight.> 

"...my own wife!"  Sean snarled, sounding furious.  Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore.  <I hope this doesn't make him mad.>  Willow extended her hand to touch his bare shoulder and silently added her will to his own.  She squeezed his hand reassuringly, cementing their bond of friendship.  With newborn skill, acquired during her recent multitude of gruesome real-life "training" experiences, she launched a powerful mental attack.  Her unexpected blow clobbered the demon from "behind", and momentarily stunned it.  Angel didn't hesitate, as he emerged from the scuffle on top again, to seize the opening and lock the beast back down under iron chains of control.  Willow nearly cheered.  <Yeah!!!  I could get to be good at this!!> 

She kept her hand glued reassuringly to his shoulder, while he gained his orientation.  Within seconds, her soothing touch helped Angel calm down and regain his focus.  His reason returned and Willow grinned to herself.  <Not bad for Telepathy On The Fly!!  AND I've got the Zen touch!>  He turned, glancing at her with surprise and gratitude.  "Thanks," he said softly.  Willow smiled in reply.  <We make a good team. Not that he's off the hook yet!  But I can worry about that later.> 

"Angelus!"  Guillaume's exclamation interrupted their private reverie rudely.  Angel whirled towards the others, relinquishing his hold upon Willow.  He was a lithe, beautiful predator again.  Despite the circumstance, Willow experienced a stab of admiration and pride.  <He's so perfect...  And so mine...> 

Angel snarled softly, his fists clenching as he advanced upon Tanya with quick, deadly strides.  "For insult to my honor and injury to my consort, I challenge you to a duel to the death."  He flung the formal challenge out like a gauntlet and then lunged, charging Tanya and not waiting for her acceptance.  With the fury of a creature hell-spawned, Angel let go and went over the edge.  The Change over took him so swiftly that only Guillaume was not taken off-guard.  Guillaume shook his head with silent disapproval over Angel's display of bad form.  The guards scurried to get out of Angel's path. 

As Angel predicted, Tanya tried to seize control of his mind.  In utter fear and desperation, she slammed into their combined shield with her full, and terrible strength.  Willow took the brunt of the blow into herself; it was agony.  She collapsed, losing touch with her body, as she focused solely and wholly upon defending Angel.  Sean lurched with surprise as she fell.  He instinctively leapt to catch her limp form  in his arms, lest she fall upon the broken glass scattered everywhere.  Mike still had not reacted and the guards retreated even further from the dueling vampires.  Once a duel was initiated, interference in such a contest was unacceptable, according to Tradition. 

Angel reached Tanya in a heartbeat.  He viciously punched her full in the face, throwing all of his strength into the blow.  Tanya flew back, slamming into the wall of broken glass.  Sharp edges sliced open gashes across her bare back and blood oozed from her nose and mouth into her cleavage, staining the bodice of her elegant white gown.  She looked up and snarled, her face a demonic visage as she tried to reach Angel's mind again.  Willow blocked her attempt, gritting her teeth against the searing pain as her nose began to bleed profusely. 

Angel charged full into Tanya, tackling her like a line backer.  She was crushed against the wall, pinned helplessly as Angel pummeled her ribcage.  Tanya shrieked in frustrated anger and pain, still unable to reach Angel's mind.  Abruptly, the spider switched tactics and focused all of her energy into destroying Willow.  Willow felt her very essence, her mind being ripped apart and shredded.  She screamed in utter agony, no longer in control.  One of her ear drums broke and blood gushed forth in a fountain. 

Finally, she saw only red as vessels in her eyeballs popped, flooding them with blood.  Unable to protect herself or Angel anymore, she was about to let go and die.  Then, suddenly, another foreign, friendly presence invaded her mind.  Sean took the last of his wife's assault into himself, saving Willow's life as Angel grabbed the beautiful vampiress, lifting her bodily above his head.  He then dropped to one knee, slamming her down and snapping her spine across his bent knee like a twig. 

Tanya howled, in pain beyond death, from an injury so lethal that it should have killed instantly.  For a vampire, however, the agony endured as her immortal body would not die so easily.  So she suffered mightily before succumbing to unconsciousness.  With a triumphant snarl that boasted of his victory and dominance, Angel ripped Tanya's throat out with his fangs.  Sean gathered Willow close, cradling her slight form protectively, while cursing himself for not having helped sooner. 

Through Sean's eyes, Willow witnessed Angel latch onto Tanya's jugular and begin draining her limp form.  Through Sean's eyes, she saw Mike swiftly and unexpectedly step up behind Angel, swinging a stake widely and wildly at his heart.  Sean, already weak and injured, his arms filled with Willow could do nothing but shout a warning to his brother. 

<Too late...>  With a desperation and fury born of love, Willow reached out with her last ounce of strength and seized control of Mike's arm.  She altered his swing so that Mike drove the stake deeply and messily into his own abdomen.  The stake inflicted a gaping gut wound that would bring a lingering, horrible death to the only man whom she'd ever truly hated. 

Willow felt a slow surge of satisfaction before she collapsed into blessed oblivion.  Angel was safe, so she could rest.  She welcomed death like a lover, seeking release from her pain. 
 

<I'm not dead...>  The groggy realization brought Willow abruptly awake.  She lay on Angel's black leather couch, buried beneath a fluffy down comforter, with her head resting on a pile of outrageously fluffy pillows.  She had a damp compress resting upon her forehead.  "Purrrrrrrrr... Purrrrrrrrr... Purrrrrrrrr..."  Cat, Angel's small fuzzy feline, rested contentedly in a warm ball on her stomach.  Angel's hand rested contentedly atop the happy cat, absently rubbing her upper neck, behind her ears.  Willow turned her head slightly to follow the length of his arm to its source and her head sank deeper into the pillow.  <Geez!  I feel sorry for the geese that contributed!!> 

Angel sat on the floor next to the couch, holding a paperback novel with his other hand.  His knees were folded under him and he wore only pants and an unbuttoned shirt.  In his typically casual manner, he almost managed to make clothes seem an evil, but necessary burden.  His hair was tousled from being towel-dried.  A fire burned, crackling enthusiastically in the fireplace behind him.  She blinked, slowing gaining her orientation.  <We're in Angel's apartment...  How'd we get here...?!  And I feel great but I was really hurt...  Just how long have I been out...?!> 

Abruptly, a flood of memories returned...  Guillaume, Angel's treachery, the fight, the terrible pain...  With them came doubt and fear, anxiety and anguish.  She shifted restlessly, wanting to escape to some place safe where she could curl up and lick her wounds. At her slight movement, Angel glanced up.  She caught a brief glance at the title, Susan Kay's Legacy, before he set the book down.  Their eyes met; the silence that ensued was long, tense and awkward, as each sought desperately for something to say. 

Into the void, Angel extended his hand, reaching slowing for her forehead to see if her fever had abated.  Willow flinched away from his touch moments before his hand made contact and his hand in turn flinched as if burned.  His hand withdrew hastily and his lips thinned, the light in his eyes dimming, then dying.  "Willow, we need to talk," he said softly with an air of grim resignation that usually accompanies an announcement of death or bad tidings.  "I owe you an apology and I have a lot of explaining to do." 

Suppressed anger, fear and hurt instantly rushed to her, emotions she had not yet dealt with, but had instead shoved aside to be dealt with later.  <Well, later is now...>  She bit her lip, trembling, wanting to deny him this conversation, not wanting to hear what he had to say.  He watched her abusing her poor, chapped lips with quiet sadness.  Willow's injured heart automatically rejected his sadness, automatically rejected anything he would do or say, as just another lie.  <He's just acting again...!!  I don't want to talk or to listen to him anymore!> 

"I don't want to hear any more of your lies--" Willow stated harshly, refusing to show any weakness.  Her voice cracked painfully on the last, and her chest trembled as tears welled up.  Her throat was excruciatingly dry from the fever and disuse.  She sat up, ruthlessly dislodging the cat from her chest.  The rumpled feline landed and stalked away, disgruntled.   The compress fell aside.  <I won't feel for him again!  It's just something else for him to take advantage of and to prey on...> 

He sat for a moment looking hurt.  Then his jaw set in a stubborn tilt.  "We're going to talk," he informed her, looking ready to put up a fight if she tried to disagree with him again.  "There are no acceptable excuses I can give for hurting you.  I should have told the truth sooner, long before things got so bad."  He met her accusing stare levelly and his tongue grazed his lips.  "I'm sorry...  But I did what I thought necessary to protect you...  To protect--"  He hesitated, torn by something and her temper skyrocketed.  <He's trying to use me as an excuse!!>  Senseless anger overwhelmed her.  "Willow, you're th--" 

Enraged, Willow backhanded him hard across the cheek.  His face turned with the blow.  "HOW DARE YOU?!!!!"  She slapped him again, venting her anger and frustration; he made no move to get out of her way, instead accepting the blows.  "YOU BASTARD!!!"  Her hand balled into a fist and she came up off the couch, socking him hard in the face one last time.  It cracked against the side of his jaw and his face rocked slightly with the blow again.  His jaw was rock hard; her hand howled in protest.  The pain broke through her angry outburst.  She whimpered pitifully, and gathered her injured member protectively against her body, sheltering it.  Tears welled up and she sank to the couch clutching her hand.  <Ouch, ouch, ouch.> 

Angel sighed and took her hand away from her gently.  "Don't abuse your hands like that," he scolded mildly.  He held her hand tenderly between his own and inspected it thoroughly for broken bones.  Finding none, he pressed a kiss against her knuckles and began massaging away the pain.  "If you want to hurt me then use a weapon." 

"You're mean.!"  She snapped, snatching up words as her weapon.  Willow sniffed, searching frantically for the right words.  She was too upset to think of any really good insults, but that was normal, for her.  Unthinkingly, she left her hand to his tender ministrations.  "And manipulative." she croaked.  He sighed and reached behind her for a glass of water sitting on the end table.  As he held the glass to her lips, his other hand still held her own.  He rubbed the back of her hand gently with his thumb while she gulped down the water.  "And deceitful."  He set the glass down.  "And you're deeply disturbed.!" she finished. 

"I know," Angel agreed readily.  He scooted closer to her on the couch and settled an arm across her shoulders.  "But at least I have my priorities in order."  He pulled the fragile young woman into his arms and held her.  Willow refused to ask what he meant, subconsciously preferring to believe that she was his highest priority.  She lacked the strength to resist his comforting touch.  Indeed, she deeply wanted to simply melt against him and forget about everything that had transpired. 

"I hate you," she hiccuped against his shoulder, making one final attempt at defiance. 

"I love you," he replied with fervent conviction.  "Come here," he commanded, gently urging her onto his lap.  She moved to obey after only a momentary hesitation.  <Why am I doing this...?> 

"Do you expect me to forgive you again?"  Willow whispered, mentally recounting all the times she'd already done so.  <Let's see...  One, his feeding habits deception...  Two, The "Vampiric Foreplay" Incident...  Three, "forgetting" to mention he's Kindred...  Four, the "gypsy curse" story...> 

Angel stared at her with his heart in his eyes.  "I never expected or deserved your forgiveness at all," he said gently, making no attempt to hide his pain or his sorrow.  "I was grateful when it was given and--" his voice cracked awkwardly and he swallowed convulsively before continuing.  "--amazed that I could be so lucky." 

While he waited for her response, Willow settled herself onto his lap and curled up like a little cat.  Tired, she rested her head contentedly against his shoulder.  His arms came around her immediately, holding her safe and snug in what suddenly became a very compromising situation.  Too late, she realized that she wore only panties and a large white tee-shirt that hung to her knees.  <He undressed me!> 

She warmed to a shade of scarlet best found in cartoons and sunsets. She couldn't decide whether to feel annoyed or incredibly turned on...   Feeling exposed, she hastily snatched up the comforter to provide more cover.  <Why is it that I'm not afraid of him at all...?!  I *should* be...> 

"You've destroyed our trust Angel," Willow informed him bluntly, with brutal honesty.  She witnessed bitter acknowledgment in his eyes.  She was oblivious to the contradiction inherent in her own body language, in the way she curled trustingly against him.  "Some of the things you said were... horrible.  I can't just cast that aside."  Her doubts were visible in her eyes and her manner.  <After what he said about Buffy and Giles and the Watchers.  Giles!  I need to warn him!!> 

"I know," he acknowledged.  "I don't expect you to.  And I called Giles from Sean's place this morning and told him to warn his people." Angel's response to her unspoken thought caused Willow to wince.  <Damn!  I'm broadcasting again!  And why would he do that.?!>  Before she could ask, he explained further.  "Willow, I didn't know what Guillaume had in mind for the Watchers.  I swear.  That was never part of the original plan and I hadn't spoken with Guillaume in over eighty years." 

"Are they ok?!  Giles, Buffy, Xander -- they are ok, aren't they?!"  She demanded, remembering their supposed "disappearance".  <Of course, that might be another fabrication...  Maybe he just didn't want them along for some reason...>  She exhaled, inwardly struggling with her fear and distrust.  He'd hurt her badly, but she wasn't being fair.  <This is ridiculous...!!  I'm acting paranoid...> 

"They're fine," he replied carefully, not unaware of her suspicion.  He sighed, rubbing her shoulders reassuringly.  "Giles can verify what I've said."  He sounded hopelessly tired and resigned.  Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment.  Willow opened her mouth to apologize but he continued.  "Giles knows that you're ok.  Sean is notifying your mother that you're safe and with 'family', but everyone thinks that we're still out of town..."  He gave her a slightly defensive glance, refusing to look apologetic.  "I get sick of being interrupted every time we try to talk..." 

Willow nodded in fervent agreement; she knew PRECISELY what he meant and she really didn't mind.  <He's right...  We're entitled to some time alone...!!>  Curious about a great many things, she blurted her first couple questions out.  "How did we get back?  And where were our friends?" 

"Sean brought us back in his 'sun-proof' limo and let us out in the basement."  Angel shook his head wearily, obviously unaccustomed to the privileges and advantages of flagrant wealth, and to safe daylight travel.  "Apparently, our friends--"  Angel paused, cautiously trying the words out.  They sounded strange to his own ears.  Strange, but good.  "Ran into some trouble with the Annoited One." 

"What happened?!"  Willow asked, her eyes widening with concern.  <Omigod!!  And we weren't there to help!  Who did the research...?!> 

"In brief, the Annoited One attempted to sacrifice those who were in closest physical proximity to the Master when he died, in order to raise him.  He kidnapped Cordelia, Ms. Calendar, and Giles."  His lips twisted into an ironic smile, as he apparently found some weird humor in the situation.  "Buffy and Xander rescued them and Buffy took a sledgehammer to the Master's skeleton." 

"I was there when he died!"  Willow exclaimed, horrified realization dawning upon her face.  Angel was still smiling faintly.  "What's so funny?"  She demanded in the small, injured voice of a little girl.  Her lower lip trembled.  <It's almost as if he's pleased...> 

"Shhsssh," he hushed her, pressing a light kiss to her lips.  His kiss was loving not sensual, utterly sweet and undemanding.  "Apparently the ritual was doomed to failure because *you* weren't there to sacrifice.  I find that immensely satisfying for some twisted reason."  Willow sighed with relief, briefly returning the kiss.  Despite herself, she couldn't seem to turn off her feelings for him like a light switch, despite the doubts plaguing her.  <What if he's just acting again.?> 

Willow ruthlessly cut her cynical thoughts off.  <I'm not being fair...!  To him or to me...  We were in a bad situation and he did what he thought was necessary...  But why did he refuse to go with us...?!  We could have run and avoided Guillaume entirely, but Angel insisted on staying...>  Hurt clenched her heart again.  <I'm so weak...  I'm letting my insecurities ruin what we have together.> 

"I'm such a fool..." she muttered, turning her face away from his and breaking off the kiss.  Tears streamed down her cheeks as the side of her face came to rest against his.  Abruptly, Angel pulled back and seized her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. 

"DO NOT EVER put yourself down," he growled fiercely, the determination in his gaze driving his words home.  "Hate me if it pleases you, but *do not* speak poorly of my friend.  Willow Rosenburg is among the finest people I've ever known..."  The fury in his tone lessened but the conviction did not.  She stared at him, emotionally beginning to calm.  He was offering her what she needed finally, reassurance and praise. 

The hand clutching her chin suddenly gentled, as he became aware of the bruising force his fingers were exerting.  His hand grazed softly along her check, traveling towards her hair.  "Willow, you're generous to a fault, intelligent, funny, and have shown me more compassion than I've ever known or deserved..."  He trailed off, swallowing.  "And I took advantage of that--" 

"Why wouldn't you run with us?"  She demanded, cutting him off.  <I want explanations and to know that he really does love me...  I *don't* care to listen to him putting himself down...> 

His hand stroking her hair stilled.  His whole manner stilled.  "My time for running is over Willow.  If I'd fled from Guillaume, he'd have known something was up and we couldn't have run far enough or fast enough."  His expression became grim, unsettling her emotional stability again.  Expecting the worst, she tightened her hold on his body. 

To her utter surprise, she felt him nudging the link open.  They'd both carefully shunned intimate mental contact since that scene in the jail cell, when Angel hit her with his "revelations".  Now, he was tearing down his shields, opening himself up to her completely.  He trustingly offered her complete and utter access to his mind.  His voice was gentle.  "Take what you need to restore your faith in me, Willow.  We're not going to make it through the next thirty-four hours on blind faith." 

She hesitated, chewing her lip.  <Is this really necessary.?>  Carefully, she took a good hard look at her deepest emotions; still rooted deeply among them were cancerous doubts and fears about his true intentions.  <He's right, it's necessary.>  She closed her eyes and surrendered, allowing herself to be drawn into the closeness that they both craved so intensely.  Willow leaned against him, wrapping her arms about his chest and resting her head on his shoulder.  She fell a short distance, mentally, before he caught her.  As their minds and bodies drifted together, first feelings, then thoughts merged.  Finally, Willow sank past his surface thoughts, going further into his mind than she'd ever been before. 

She perceived the link joining them as far more than simply a telepathic one.  It was spiritual as well and extended far deeper than she'd ever suspected, binding their souls together with a unbreakable bond.  <It's like we're soul mates or something.>  This knowledge thrilled and pleased her in an utterly romantic nonsensical fashion.  As medium for expressing their love, it was unbeatable.  <It's better than poetry, or flowers and candlelight, or even a love song.!>  She giggled and Angel shifted silently, patiently waiting for her to overcome the "newness". 

Becoming more serious, she focused on his essence, which unobtrusively surrounded her.  <Or maybe not so unobtrusively.  It's just that I've become so used to his presence, it's as if he's a part of me.  Even the parts of him that I don't particularly care for.>  "Gee, thanks," Angel muttered, without any real rancor.  "I'm kind of getting used to you too." 

It was much like standing in the landscape of an alien world.  His thoughts, memories, emotions...  They were part human, part demon, part Angel...  Inhuman and human...  And utterly beautiful or hideously ugly...  With no plan, or direction she wandered aimlessly for a moment.  He shoved her gently in the right direction, as one parent casts a stumbling toddler towards its other.  And she stumbled right into a huge sore spot, a gaping emotional injury that was festering and oozing under a crusty scab of self-discipline.  Buffy... 

She experienced his love for Buffy, his pain, and his loss.  His admiration of her wit, her great fashion sense, her humor and her round house kick.  His respect for her courage, her optimism and her dedication to duty.  Not to mention her hair, her eyes, her thighs, her lips, her hips, her--  <All right!  Enough!  I get the point!!>  Willow cut off the memories abruptly.  <You love Buffy and didn't have any ulterior motivations for helping her...  Can we move on now?!>  Strangely, she didn't really feel resentful, simply uncomfortable.  <Like a Peeping Tom...!!> 

<If you want to get even later, we can go over Xander's merits...>  Angel's thought was not resentful, but rather ironic, containing multiple layers of his dark and self-deprecating humor.  He knew his own soft spots better than anyone and didn't pull punches with himself.  Willow snuggled against him, enjoying their intimacy. 

<Let's not and say that we did...!!!>  She sent the cheeky challenge bouncing at him with her own special blend of humor and spirit.  He chuckled and wrapped around her tighter still, his essence like a warm, fuzzy blanket over her own.  <My very own cuddle-pire!!> 

Angel sighed with exasperation.  <How about showing a little more respect, Woman?>  The loving thought was tenderly sarcastic and contained more than a telling hint of an old-fashioned chauvinism that did not belong in this century.  Mindful of the business at hand, he began to draw her attention towards his memories of the past eighty years. 

<Respect...?!  Oh, yes, M'Lord!!  Respect you much, I do...!!>  Under the pretext of humor, out of fear and uncertainty, Willow stubbornly resisted the memories he was pulling up.  He chuckled again and gently gathered her up with his mind.  Then he dumped her smack dab into the middle of his memories; it was like hitting a pool of ice water.  He followed after her. 

Together, like speed readers, they skimmed eighty years.  Years during which he'd watched over various Slayers, occasionally helping out, preventing an ambush, or relaying a cryptic warning.  Willow came to know each girl by name, by face, and saw their brief lives flash by through his timeless eyes.  She knew his stubborn self-control, his aching loneliness, and his quest for humanity, in what gradually became a quest for redemption. 

Angel interrupted.  <I began living my own lie...>  Again, that marvelously self-mocking humor surfaced.  <Hoist by my own petard, so to speak...  I never dreamed when I began this that it would become real for me.  I never imagined that I could come to hate myself so much...> 

<Hush...>  Willow shushed the hatred away.  She understood him better now than ever before.  Abruptly, so many inconsistencies made sense.  His name for instance...  Before she'd assumed that he'd changed it to Angel in an attempt to differentiate himself from his past.  Now, she knew better.  <"Angel is Angelus"...  Angel is a familiarization of your given name...?  What your friends and family have always called you, isn't it?  Not an attempt to change your identity?> 

<Of course.>  He felt surprise at the question, as he didn't think about such things.  <Changing my name would be like denying responsibility for what I've done.>  He didn't elaborate.  Willow sensed that he was still carefully keeping over a hundred years of memories hidden from her.  She didn't mind, as they were things that she did not particularly want to feel or experience. 

<There are some things that I'd rather not know...>  Absently, her hands slid under his open shirt, caressing the firm muscles of his chest.  He shifted restlessly, absently rechecking his control over the demon the way a computer might run an automated virus scan.  The quiet moment stretched out as each sought a private retreat within their own mind to reflect. 

Their link remained open but their minds distanced slightly, offering each a brief respite from the draining and intensely personal experience.  Willow felt her emotionally equilibrium restoring.  <Which is good, cause I get the feeling that the Phoenix Contract is going to be the hard part...  Angel's still hiding something...  I can feel it!  But what?!  And why?!  Maybe I should just trust him and leave well enough alone...> 

Still... she had to know.  "Are you going to kill Xander?" she demanded bluntly, her words sounding loud and harsh in the quiet room after their silent exchange.  He hesitated for a moment, carefully weighing his words.  Through the link, she began to receive his memories and thoughts.  Briefly, she glimpsed a mental "scale" he maintained for the Phoenix Contract.  Upon one side, he kept the inherent good brought about from closing the Hellmouths.  Upon the other side, he kept the  evil of murdering an innocent.  The good far out outweighed the evil. 

He took too long debating about which words to choose.  Willow leapt to  a conclusion and her heart fell.  <In some twisted fashion, it's more  evil not to murder the innocent...  The good of the many outweighs the  good of the one...  Or some sort of Star Trek crap...>  "I see," she  uttered, turning away.  Her disappointment, anger, and fear for Xander  snapped the link closed, cutting their minds off completely from one  another's.  Willow slammed up her shields and began climbing off his  lap, needing to escape. 

Angel caught her arm.  "You don't see," he asserted calmly.  She  glanced down, staring hard at her knees, unable to meet his eyes and  expose her deepest fears.  "Murdering an innocent is wrong.  I *know*  that," Angel asserted softly.  He kindly soothed away her apprehension,  still trying to heal the damage he'd caused to her spirit.  "Frankly,  I  don't have the stomach for it anymore."  Willow simultaneously  experienced relief, guilt and the beginnings of dread.  <He's not going  to hurt anyone...  I should have known better...!  But this means...> 

He let go of her arm, now that he had her attention, not wanting her to  feel tethered or trapped.  "Besides, I don't even consider that to be a  viable option anymore.  This is about individuals as much as it is about  the safety of the world."  His words tone was grave and accepting.  Fearfully, her eyes flew to his.  <He's decided to die...>  He was  smiling gently and seemed completely at peace with himself for the first  time in over a hundred years.  "This is about you and me." 

He spoke carefully, as if his next words might trigger a hysterical  reaction in her.  "Xander's not the Chosen, Willow."  Love and  protective tenderness lit his eyes.  "You are.  And I'd rather watch the  world burn in hell, than harm you." 

She blinked, stunned.  Carefully, he extended his hand, expecting her  to need support and reassurance. Willow snapped, her world coming  undone.  "NO!!!"  she shouted, denying him.  She held up a hand to halt  him and began backing away, shaking uncontrollably, convulsively.  <NO,  NO, NO.!!!  It can't be true!!!  I don't want it to be!!!>  Angel froze,  horrified that she might fear him now; he could not have known she felt  only horrified denial. 

"You're wrong..."  Willow breathed the denial, barely capable of  whispering.  <Oh, God!!  Please, not me!!!  I CAN'T be the reason he  dies...> 

"I'm not."  His words held great conviction.  Certainty.  Truth.  He settled back on the couch, unwilling to risk frightening her further with movement.  "The link is actually the spell tying me to you, not something you did.  Your telepathic abilities awakening at the same time is coincidental and a result of the change." 

She shook her head, desperately wanting him to stop, but he continued on with his relentless litany.  "Already, your stamina and recuperative powers are increasing...  It's been only nine hours since the fight but you're already healed."  By way of physical proof, he indicated her ankle with a slight gesture.  She glanced down, following his finger.  The nasty cut inflicted last night in her scuffle with Sean was gone, already healed.  "This fever was another transition phase.  I can feel the power coming off you in waves." 

Willow wrapped her arms around her torso, cradling herself like a small child.  She had no choice but to believe him.  He spoke the truth; she could feel such for herself if she tried.  She began crying pitifully, while he watched, frustrated.  "I need to think," Willow mumbled.  She glanced up at him.  <He looks so lost...  Almost as lost as I feel.  Poor Angel...  Poor Willow...  Why can't things work out for us...?  If I live, he dies and...  If I die, he lives.  And the Hellmouths close forever...> 

"I'm going to take a shower,"  Willow stated quite clearly, enunciating each word carefully.  Tears spilled down her cheeks in crystalline reams.  She turned and staggered away with faltering steps.  Angel watched his fledgling falcon hopping away, dragging her broken wings, with infinite sadness and an aching despair.  He attempted to reopen their mental link and she cut him off ruthlessly, with skill and ability that far exceeded his own.  Involuntarily, he came to his feet, prepared to go after her and she broke into a panicked run down the hall.  Instead of pursuing, he stared after her grimly. 

"Damn," he cursed softly, to an empty room.