Friendship

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

Willow padded barefoot into the family room, searching for Angel.  She could sense him through the link, well enough to locate him, if need be.  She almost did need the link to find him.  The room was well lit, both by overhead track lighting and the fire, but Angel seemed to have almost disappeared from plain sight.  It took her a moment, but finally, her sharp eyes found him seated upon the couch. 

Willow tried to quell the ghost of nervousness haunting her, by focusing wholly upon him.  Her mood's lightning swift transformation from panic and despair to renewed hope and grim determination was as sudden and absolute as every other unsettling change she'd experienced this week.  Mentally and emotionally, she was still reeling in shock, but she ruthlessly shoved those feelings aside.  <To be dealt with later..  For now, just remember, Carpe Diem...  Seize the day...  Before it's gone...  Before he's gone...> 

Angel was lurking, deliberately blending with his surroundings and being purposely unobtrusive.  He could have been a lump on the couch for all the attention he drew to himself.  Willow shook her head appreciatively at the irony.  <A vampiric lump...>  She sighed softly.  <If he were Buffy, Iíd say he was sulking...  But sulking just isn't Angel... Brooding or Lurking IS...  Hmmm...  This is the first time I've ever seen him lurk in plain sight.  I'm going to have to ask him to show me how he does that.> 

She sighed again; she suspected that this might not to be so easy.  Angel was tired and depressed, closing himself up and cutting himself off from her. The clock in the bedroom had read 3:30pm, making this an hour when good little vampires <...and all others...> should be in bed.  <But then, he hasn't been sleeping much for the last several days...>  In so many ways, she understood how he felt.  It was difficult not to succumb completely to despair and fatalistic acceptance of his seemingly inevitable demise.  But she refused to give up on hope, to give up on him.  Willow was a fighter at heart and her heart held stubborn, illogical hope.  <I'm not going to let him go without a fight...> 

Her hair was still damp and her slight form was engulfed in an enormous dark blue terry cloth bathrobe that she'd stolen from his closet.  Silently, she evaluated Angel's solitary form slouched on the far right end of the couch, gauging his disposition.  Shadows seemed to coalesce about him as if drawn by his mood, by the darkness engulfing his heart.  Willow sensed Angel trying desperately to distance himself from her and the pain.  Sympathy and love made her heart ache.  <He probably thinks that our friendship can't survive this because of the way I reacted...> 

Feeling guilty, Willow quietly approached him from behind.  Angel shifted slightly as she drew nearer, turning his head to watch her with dark, fathomless eyes.  From her perspective, she could see the neon red glow emanating from the Phoenix tattoo, even through the material of his shirt.  <It's getting brighter...  Must be some relation to my proximity.  Or maybe it gets brighter as the transformation progresses...> 

Slowly, she extended her left hand to touch his shoulder, sliding it under his unbuttoned shirt.  She pushed the material aside, in order to better examine the tattoo.  He tensed, but made no move to escape.  Thoughtfully, she pressed her palm to the tattoo, feeling it warming up under her touch.  Gradually, it grew hotter and brighter, confirming her suspicions that its brightness was in some way related to her proximity.  Angel endured her inspection passively, obviously uncertain of how to react.  She circled the couch, coming to stand beside him.  With her other hand, she reached out to stroke his hair lovingly.  <He's like an abused child.  He just doesn't seem to understand or accept that I love him...> 

Angel jerked his head and his shoulder away from her touch, as if it hurt too much to endure.  Hell was in his eyes again.  Willow felt her heart tighten in response.  Her breathing accelerated and, unexpectedly, the link flared to life between them.  She actively absorbed his misery, his pain, his self-hatred.  She willingly accepted the emotions, trying to take them into herself and heal him.  A moment later, Angel violently clamped down on the link, cutting her off again. 

Sorry," he apologized brusquely, angry with himself for dumping on her. "It's still daylight out.  I'll call Giles to come get you.  He'll be able to give you the guidance you'll need..."  His words were succinct and to the point.  "Giles can help you get through this," he added, starting to rise.  He intended to retreat.  She leapt to stop him.  <Oh No, You Don't!>  Willow quickly stepped in front of him, cutting off his escape.  Her hands landed on his shoulders, forcefully shoving him back down.  She landed on his lap, straddling him on bent knees, using her weight to hold him in place.  She tightened her grip on him possessively, claiming what was rightfully hers; Angel.  <Mine...!> 

Angel's face registered blank surprise.  He could easily have pushed her off; however, he docilely settled back onto the couch, submitting to her will.  "Don't apologize," Willow commanded.  "And I'm not leaving you.  Not like this."  His jaw clenched as she settled her arms upon his shoulders, shoving the intrusive shirt down off his shoulders and arms.  He didn't question her right to remove his clothing, to his body, nor to any part of his being; he belonged to her, body, heart, and soul.  Willow laced her fingers behind his neck and wiggled around on his lap--under the pretext of 'settling in'--enough to make him squirm. Their eyes met, his searching hers for an explanation.  What he saw there brought a relieved smile to his lips, alleviating his emotional burden and lightening his spirits. 

"We're ok?"  he asked, to be sure he was right. 

"We're more than ok."  Her voice was husky and warm, her smile a sexy invitation.  His eyes widened with surprise and wariness. 

"Willow," he began, awkwardly searching for some way to explain that things had changed.  That fooling around wouldn't be an advisable thing for them to do anymore.  That caution and prudence in the face of their respective roles as assassin and target made this an unwise path to follow.  Angel, ever cautious, would never consider putting her safety at risk for any reason.  At least, not deliberately, and Willow loved him all the more for it.  He tried again," This--"  Silently chanting her battle cry, she leaned in closer to him.  <Carpe Diem...  Carpe Angelus!> 

"Hush," she shushed him, silencing his words gently with her lips.  Deliberately, she shoved her chest suggestively forward, undulating so that the robe parted slightly.  The pale, smooth flesh of her chest and the curve of her tender young breasts were visible through the parted "V" of material.  Then she pulled his head forward and down, making certain that he got a good, long look.  He stared for a long moment before emitting a soft moan.  She wasn't wearing underwear and her soft red pubic hair was clearly visible.  The only thing separating them was the material of his trousers. 

"Willow, what--"  Angel exclaimed, jerking his head back up.  Willow used her mouth to cut him off and to shut him up.  She forced his mouth open and thrust her tongue in.  The kiss was hot and hungry.  She plundered him ruthlessly, taking him for all he was worth.  Their lower bodies ground together desperately and Willow mewled weakly into his mouth.  Struggling for control, she slowed the rhythm of the kiss.  Then, at a more leisurely pace, she explored his tongue and his teeth.  Finally, her tongue withdrew teasingly, to taste his lips.  "--are you doing?" he gasped. 

"Taking what I want," she purred.  Her manner was possessive, and capriciously dominating in a wholly feminine manner.  Subconsciously, his pupils dilated completely and his lips parted slightly in passionate response.  She seized the opening.  With a final flicker of her tongue against his lip cleft, she coerced his mouth open again.  Her questing tongue sought his teeth again, the tip seeking for one of his canines.  She found the fang and he willingly widened his mouth further for her.  Under her coaxing, stroking touch, the fang elongated, becoming considerably sharper. 

Willow deliberately nicked her flesh on the sharp tip, cutting a tiny incision.  Then she fed him her tongue, letting him taste the blood.  He sucked her tongue into his mouth eagerly and greedily suckled, stanching the blood flow.  She let him nurse for a moment, drinking the trickle from her mouth.  His eyes were closed; hers were open.  He seemed happily contented, like an infant at its mother's breast.  After a moment, she withdrew her offering, settling back to survey her conquest. 

He was sprawled languidly under her.  Hers for the taking.  His eyes opened, slowly blinking through a drugged haze of lust and hunger.  Willow felt her own loins tighten and warm in response, aching for him.  Her fingers trailed over his flesh, and her palms came to rest over the firm flesh of his pecs.  Willow dug her fingertips appreciatively into the solid wall of muscle.  "And, Angel..." she challenged.  Some small degree of sanity returned to his eyes as he looked up.  Her smile was teasingly triumphant, as she sadistically scraped her fingernails over his nipples.  "I will use force." 

His answering grin was a sudden, spontaneous acknowledgment that she'd managed to turn the tables on him.  She'd turned his own words on him and upstaged him completely, finally coming into her own with the self-assurance and daring of a confident woman.  Willow tilted her head to the side to regard him through veiled eyes.  She dragged her long red locks teasingly across his chest while he indulged in a sexy chuckle, loving the attention.  She was tempestuous, daring and sexy; every inch a woman. 

"If you think you can."  he challenged, deliberately offering non-verbal, passive resistance.  He'd play her game, for the time being.  His smile was drawn out like warm taffy, charged with a competitive and mildly feral energy that answered her challenge with his own.  He lowered his arms to his sides, forcing his hands to remain still, daring her to do her damnedest and take what she wanted, because he wasn't giving it up willingly.  Willow grinned in response.  <I should have known that he'd be contrary and take me up on this.  Lord Oh Lord!!  This is going to be fun.!!> 

<Carpe Angelus!>  Grinning madly and chuckling over the silliness of her own battle cry, she took a moment to survey her willing victim.  She recalled every time he'd looked at her like a meal and finally understood why.  <Better than chocolate.>  Willow ran an explorative, possessive hand over his fine body, her fingers loving every bulge and curve of his physique.  If he'd breathed, he'd have been panting.  As it was, his lips parted involuntarily as her hand passed over his face, tracing over his lips and then down his throat.  Willow grinned again; she'd learned from a master that waiting was the most exquisite torture of all. 

Under her touch, his skin was cool, almost too much so.  Willow frowned, remembering his ability to manipulate his own body temperature from the night he'd nabbed her.  "Angel can you." she hesitated, recalling his terminology.  "Burn blood?"  His eyes narrowed slightly, his lips still parted in a feral grimace.  Complying would be a tacit acknowledgment that she could and would take anything she wanted from him, but he gave in anyway.  After a moment, she felt his body temperature begin to increase as he upped the rate at which he metabolized blood.  Gradually, he warmed to human temperature, but not the feverish hot burning of that evening. 

Willow leaned forward, her lips grazing his throat as her palm settled over his nipple.  Gently, she massaged his pec while her other hand massaged his bicep.  He threw back his head, silently offering her his throat. She felt her abdomen tighten and soften with liquid heat in response.  Willow carefully looked him over.  <Lord, he's so perfect... and mine... all mine.>  She leaned forward and tasted his exposed flesh.  He swallowed at the erotic pressure of her lips on his Adam's apple and Willow knew she'd found a soft spot.  She chuckled wickedly, tasting his flesh indulgently, reveling in the power inherent in the very vampiric position, in her power over him.  <He did say he has a throat fetish!> 

She placed a hand on each shoulder and began gradually massaging her way down the solid wall of muscle, exploring every nuance of his skin.  Angel groaned softly as her hungry mouth licked and nibbled its way over his throat.  She took her own sweet time exploring the smooth, tender flesh; enjoying the anticipation of what was to come.  On impulse, she turned her head slightly and bit down hard into his jugular.  Her dull teeth didn't draw blood, or even break skin, but it had to hurt.  Angel dug his fingernails desperately into the couch and pushed his throat up hard against her mouth. It took all of his self control not to react beyond those slight movements; Willow smiled with pleasure.  <His "resistance" is crumbling.!!> 

She finally let go of his throat, releasing her stranglehold on his flesh.  She leaned back slightly to admire her handiwork; a beaut of a bruise was left where her teeth had been.  A wicked smile surfaced on  her lips, while her fingertips continued their exploration of his rib cage.  <Call it evening the score...>  An occasional, tell-tale tremor ran through his body as he struggled not to respond.  Angel's nostrils flared slightly, dragging in her ripe scent, and he suppressed a moan. 

She touched the hard flesh of his stomach with fluttering fingertips, lightly flirting with the material of his slacks.  Angel stiffened under her touch, turning his head swiftly to eyeball her nervously; she was straying into dangerous territory.  What he saw in her eyes assured him he had good cause to be nervous.  They were wild and feral, those of a woman who'd been pushed too far, too fast by harsh circumstance.  She was strong in spirit, body and heart; her indomitable will had risen in defiance, refusing to be crushed.  She was on edge, and feeling ready, willing, and able to push back.  She was flirting with danger, living for revenge, frustrated beyond belief, and she intended to take it out on him. 

"Willow--" Angel managed hoarsely, uncertain of what to say.  He'd thought they were playing but he was beginning to wonder if she *really* would use force, if need be.  She just might possess the telepathic strength necessary to do so.  <Let him wonder!>  Willow grinned evilly, grabbing for his pants.  Like a striking serpent her fingers closed on the top button of his trousers.  She tugged the material around it hard and it snapped open.  To her surprise, a whole row of buttons popped free.  Her eyes widened with understanding.  <God bless button flies!!!> 

Her hand delved into his crotch, finding him instantly.  His manhood sprang eagerly into her hand, almost of its own accord.  She grinned at finding he wasn't wearing underwear either.  Angel growled softly as her fingers closed cautiously around his rigid shaft, his hips urging it up into her hand, begging for her touch.   To her surprise, his flesh was smooth and remarkably sensitive for something so hot, hard and fundamentally male. 

Angel snarled, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth.  His fingernails tore into the leather of the couch with a rending tear while his hips thrust helplessly towards her.  Willow snorted softly.  <Like force would ever be necessary!  Men are so easy!!>  Still, she petted him lovingly, pleased to pleasure him for a change and thrilled with how much he wanted her, with her relative power over him.   Feeling bolder, she experimented.  <It moves!>  His eyes popped open at the same moment she licked her lips absently, fondling him experimentally again. 

A moment later, she was lying on her back on the black leather couch.  One second, the world spun disorientingly as Angel seized her and flipped over; the next he stood over her, tearing out of his pants.  It frightened her witless to see him so suddenly out of control, to realize that she'd finally pushed him too far.  Her heart nearly stopped as he landed on top of her, taking all of his weight on his arms.  Her robe had fallen open, the edges caught under her, leaving her naked, vulnerable and helpless beneath him.  He rubbed against her suggestively, their sexes briefly touching and she saw the intent, predatory light in his eyes.  She shuddered, almost ready to beg. 

He snarled again softly, intently surveying his prey, hovering over her like a panther on its kill.  Willow began to feel like a meal again.  The fear was thrilling, causing her heart to race, her breath to come in gasps and her womb to contract and ache.  He dropped to an elbow and seized a handful of hair, immobilizing her head.  With a soft purr of contentment, he buried his face in her throat, fangs distended, the Change almost, but not quite, overtaking him.  Willow felt his lips, then razor sharp teeth graze longingly over her jugular, then close on her lightly.  It was scary and titillating.  She was too terrified, and too excited to move or to scream.  Only her hands moved, without conscious direction, burying themselves in his hair. 

"Seabhaicín," he uttered the Gaelic endearment against her throat, and slowly his face began to slide lower, their naked bodies rubbing together as he moved.  An image of a falcon in flight passed between them and with it, all of the awe, admiration, and love he held for her.  She exhaled, in relief, confusion and amusement.  <He does so enjoy scaring me...> 

A soft smile curved her lips as his hungry mouth, no longer full of sharp teeth, closed on her breast.  She gasped with pleasure and arched her back, offering up her tender young breasts like a sacrifice.  Gently, he savored  them, tasting, suckling, nibbling.  He only stopped short of mauling her with his tongue.  By the time he was finished, her nipples were rock-hard and erect and her legs were wrapped around his thigh, as she rubbed desperately against him, enjoying the friction of his coarse leg hair against her softness. 

Willow moaned with frustration, tugging sharply on his hair with her fingers.  They were still snarled in his hair, tying knots as her frustration mounted.  Angel slid lower still, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses down her stomach.  Willow found herself straining her reach to keep her hands in his hair while puzzling with innocent wonder.  <What does he think he's going to do down there...?> 

A moment later, as his hands parted her thighs, she had her answer.  She leapt, startled, trying to escape, but he held her down with overpowering strength, opening her easily like a piece of ripe fruit.  The first experimental touch of his tongue was heaven.  Willow stilled, no longer wanting to get away as she realized what he intended to do.  He licked her again, tasting her juices as if they were nectar.  She was literally dripping as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss over her clitoris.  He repeated the motion and continued his exploration with a casual thoroughness that left her a whimpering mass of nerve endings, begging for release.  <He's too slow...!!  Not enough pressure...!!  Is he trying to drive me nuts...?!> 

When her tormentor finally withdrew, he still hadn't applied the proper pressure to grant her release.  He'd teased her to the point of climax repeatedly, each time easing up before she reached fulfillment.  Willow was practically crying by the time he stopped and began to, slide back up her body.  Angel's large form looming over her abruptly seemed strange and threatening as Willow's vacationing virginal fear suddenly returned with a vengeance.  He shifted his weight carefully above her, his shaft seeking her softness and Willow quivered with newly sprung anxiety.  "Angel.?"  He voice quavered, expressing her uncertainty and doubts.  <He's too large.!!  I'm not ready.!!  What if this hurts.?!  What if it doesn't fit.?!> 

Angel stilled, hypersensitive to every nuance of her responses.  This hyper-awareness exaggerated his perception of reservations.  He stubbornly denied his body's impulse to take her, instead withdrawing, beginning to move away from her.  Willow growled with frustration as cold air passed between their bodies, rushing to fill the space he'd vacated.  "ANGEL!"  she cried out in disappointment, shocked that he would actually stop.  <That wasn't what I wanted.!!!  What--!!> 

Her thought was abruptly cut short as he slipped his hands under her shoulders, scooping up her limp form and  drawing her with him.  He settled her onto his lap, so they were both sitting, facing one another.  "Better.?"  He ground out between clenched teeth, as their gazes met and locked.  Willow wrapped her arms around his neck and nodded, her eyes rounding hugely.  <What is he doing.?"  She gasped in delighted surprise as his hands gently grasped her derriere and began to lift.  <OH--!!!>  Her lips parted eagerly and his tongue found the opening, thrusting ardently into her mouth.  She could taste herself on his lips, and in his mouth; the flavor was decidedly odd, but not necessarily unpleasant. 

He positioned her carefully, maneuvering their bodies until they fit together perfectly.  With soft, short little explorative thrusts he began to inch in and out, testing her fit and readiness.  Then, with one smooth, clean thrust he took her, breaking her maidenhead and burying himself deeply within her.  Willow tore her mouth from his to cry out with equal parts pain and pleasure, as he sank to the hilt within her soft folds.  She shifted uncomfortably on him, trying to adjust to his trespass.  She felt. penetrated.  Impaled.  It was intrusive, yet intimate. 

He trembled, trying to control the impulse to move, drawing her attention to him and away from herself.  Their eyes met and she realized that they were sharing, joining, and he was no longer an intruder but her friend.  Their mouths met of their own accord, in a gentle, open-mouthed kiss.  "I love you," he whispered, giving himself over to her the way she'd surrendered to him.    <Seabhaicín...  Little falcon...>  Their link opened and they came together.  Their love was complete; bringing their exchange of sharing and trust full circle. 

"I love you too," she whispered.  <My Angel...>  He moved, thrusting experimentally, his hands guiding her hips with skilled expertise.  Willow cried out again, vocally expressing her feelings, unable to contain the impulse to moan and whimper.  She went wild on him, unable to learn the controlled motion his hands were trying to teach her for the newness of the experience.  Only his carefully focused strength, his discipline kept them under control, drawing out the torment and allowing the tension to build. 

"Angel!"  Willow wailed, urging him onward with her hands and her mind.  Their link burned brightly as she tried to express her desperate suffering and her need.  Gradually, his incredible control restored a small edge of her sanity.  He feared abandoning himself completely and she understood why. If he lost control and bit he might not be able to stop before he'd drained her.  Or even if he did stop in time, the spell might rob her of some of precious magical energy she would need to complete her transformation to immortality. <Too dangerous.> 

Sensations spilled over and merged till she could no longer distinguish his from hers.  His hard to her soft, his penetration to her tightness, hot and wet, and utterly devastating.  He thrust steadily under her while his hands taught her hips the rhythm.  The sexual tension was incredible. As was the lure of her pulse and his hunger.  As if his sensations were her own, Willow heard the amplified, magnified beating of her own heart and the beckoning rush of blood in her veins.  She experienced the thrill of temptation and the glory of denial as he battled for control. 

<It seems so unfair...!!>  Desiring to set him free, so that he could indulge and abandon himself to the pleasure as she did, Willow reached out to him, seeking to help.  She deliberately merged her mind further with his, adding her will to his own, bringing the darkest aspects of his nature under their combined control.  As before, he accepted her assistance with some surprise and quiet gratitude.  The almost pained expression upon Angel's face eased, as the lines of stressed tension faded. 

Triumphantly, and almost gleefully, Willow snatched the rhythm from him with a hard downward thrust of her hips.  Angel growled with mindless pleasure, as she lifted and lowered herself upon him like a dancer performing to the primitive, demanding beat of drums.  He became the focus of her entire body and being.  His shaft and his essence filled her completely; they ground together with such erotic and primal sensualism that multiple orgasms suddenly seized her.  Angel slammed upwards into her one final time, following her over the edge. 

Willow climaxed again, noisily and violently expressing her pleasure as she surrendered to the exhalation of ecstasy.  Multiple waves of exquisite pleasure wracked her helpless body before she slowly collapsed against his chest like a rag doll.  Some distant part of her mind managed to observe with a hint of annoyance that while she had screamed at the top of her lungs, he had done little more than moan.  Afterwards, as she lay limply against him, her exhausted, sweat soaked form supported solely by his strength, he chuckled slightly.  "What's so funny?"  Willow demanded weakly. 

Angel pulled her face from his shoulder and kissed her lips tenderly.  <I knew that you'd be a screamer.>  The thought was smug and satisfied in a wholly masculine manner. 

"Willow,"  Angel whispered into her hair as her eyes drifted closed.  His hand touched her hair, smoothing as he stoked downwards.  Willow made a soft, nonsensical noise of acknowledgment.  Angel sighed, reluctant to disturb her but ever mindful of duty and responsibility.  "The sun is setting.  I should take you to Giles," he observed, sounding extremely unenthusiastic about parting with her.  Willow yawned, forcing herself awake.  <I'd better deal with this now before he dresses and carries me back.> 

"I'm not going anywhere,"  Willow mumbled, yawning groggily again.  "I'm happy right here."  She kneaded his stomach with her hand for emphasis and pressed a tender kiss to the underside of his throat. 

"Willow."  Angel exhaled her name, sounding awkward.  "We really can't ignore." he trailed off, loath to remind her the unpleasant reality that they'd forgotten about for a few brief hours.  The tattoo, his coming demise, her transformation, Guillaume. 

"Oh, yes, we can."  Willow hushed him, not wanting to hear him stating the reasons that they couldn't and shouldn't be together.  <Not when he might die...  Or will...>  She raised herself up to look into his eyes, meeting his gaze with heart-breaking desperation.  "Twenty-four hours, Angel."  she pleaded.  He looked confused and it hurt her to have to explain; that he didn't automatically understand.  "Twenty-four hours for just you and me.  No outside world, no family, friends, or enemies 
interfering with our lives.  I want one perfect day of memories of you and me making love together."  Her eyes filled with tears.  "Please." 

His throat tightened.  He wanted it too, she could see it in his eyes.  One day of intimacy and loving, a time of healing and sharing.  Willow grabbed his hands.  "Please, Angel," she begged.  "I know it's selfish, and maybe it's even wrong, but we might never get another chance."  She began crying, weeping softly, and his resistance crumpled like a piece of paper.  He pulled her roughly into his arms, crushing her slight form against him. 

"One day," he conceded, agreeing to her request.  Her couldn't have refused her anything, especially not that.  Willow cried from her soul, expressing her longing and her loneliness, her grief for a loss she'd not yet suffered but might.  She cried for the threatened loss of friend, lover and mate.  Angel held her through it all, a rock steady presence throughout, her wailing wall.  When she finally wound down, he went for some tissues.  He returned swiftly and she gratefully accepted the box from him. 

"Am I being too selfish?"  Willow asked, blowing her nose.  He kneeled beside her on the floor, his arms sliding around her.  "Should we be spending the day in the library doing research instead?"  She wondered, feeling guilt stricken and miserable all at once.  <What if I'm denying him his chance to live...?> 

"Why waste another day doing more research?"  Angel asked simply. He gently wrapped the comforter around her slight form and picked her up.  Willow made no move to resist, going willing into his arms; he cradled her like a baby.   "It took Sean close to a hundred years to find a solution and I've been searching for almost as long with no luck."  His voice tightened as his lips brushed her forehead and he began to stand up.  "If we both get through this, it will be because we're together."  He paused, before speaking the  true feelings of his heart aloud.  "Willow, Iíd gladly trade the last two hundred years for one day with you." 

His words chased away the last of her doubt.  She shoved the last of her grief aside, to be dealt with later.  Stubbornly, she refused to give up hope; to give up on him or on life.  Together, they'd get through this somehow.  <We're doing the right thing...  Live and love now...  And if it comes to it, grieve later...  Carpe diem...> 

Willow glanced curiously over at the silent Angel beside her, trying to gauge his mood.  He widened his eyes at her with his cutest, most charming affectation of innocence and smiled.  The smile was disarmingly warm, adding to her further puzzlement.  <He seems almost too lighthearted.  What's he up too.?!> 

"Watch-ya thinking?"  Willow sing-songed the question, happily trotting along beside Angel like a skittish colt beside its mother.  She was practically bouncing and skipping along beside him as his quick, ground eating pace consumed block after block of sidewalk.  She wore one of the frothy, impractical, but pretty, fairytale dresses Sean had so thoughtfully provided.  Willow was riding an explosion of inexplicable energy Angel had sarcastically attributed to "growing pains".  Willow came close to grinning.  <I wonder if he meant *my* pain or *his*.?!> 

It was close to 9:00pm and Angel had finally agreed to take her out for a walk after hours of listening to her hyper, incessant chatter.  "Maybe it will wear you out," he'd said, with a cryptic half-smile, telling her that he really didn't believe that it would.  Willow eyeballed him curiously again; he'd been unusually quiet for the last hour or so.  He simply smiled frequently and watched her exuberant displays of boundless energy with loving indulgence and the patience of Job.  It was driving Willow nuts.  <Maybe he's up to something...?!  Maybe, I'm just being paranoid.?  Or maybe too noisy...? But I can't help it!!  I'm so happy and excited that I'm practically running up walls.!!> 

"Nothing," Angel replied softly, offering her his hand.  She accepted it, allowing her meandering to be tethered by his arm.  They were walking a circuit through downtown Sunnydale and passing the Bronze at the moment.  Angel sent a fugitive glance ahead of them, searching the crowd for signs of Buffy, Xander or other familiar faces that they wished to avoid. Subconsciously, he began manipulating the shadows around himself, blending in with his surroundings.  Fascinated, Willow watched how he manipulated shadow, while trying to suppress a twinge of guilt.  <They're probably worried sick about us.>  Determinedly, she squished it and reminded herself of why her friends and family could wait.  <One day.  We're entitled.> 

Trying to focus upon something more cheerful, she glanced over at Angel again, trying to decipher his quiet, broody mood.  Her curiosity was nearly unbearable.  <I'll bet he's not really thinking of nothing.>  His presumed guilt of practicing another deception, however minor the infraction, provided her with an excuse to snoop.  Feeling somewhat fugitive herself, she shamelessly opened a wide-band telepathic channel that would allow her to scan the general vicinity for thought patterns.  <Angel doesn't have shields up against me and IF I just HAPPEN to pick something up on accident, then th--!!!> 

Willow nearly fell over, choking upon her embarrassment at the image that rolled out of his mind at her as clearly and vividly as a satellite broadcast.  <BUFFY AND ME.???!!!>  She cooked to a deep red and whirled on him in outrage, yanking her hand from his.  "ANGEL!!!  YOU'RE A PERVERT!!!" she exclaimed, puffing up like a porcupine as she prepared to berate him.  His smile was knowing and his gaze expectant.  Too late, Willow realized that she'd walked right into a trap.  <Damn!!  He tricked me!!> 

"OH!!! YOU!!!" She exclaimed, sufficiently outraged to do little more than posture and steam at him.  He chuckled, causing her to turn a deeper shade of red.  She deflated, her thunder stolen, upstaged by a sneaky vampire who'd grown somewhat more adept in telepathy than she'd suspected.  She stared at him with mildly hostile outrage, fueled by ill-graced defeat.  His laughter was rich, warm, happy.  Willow turned to stalk off, her outrage breaking upon a special kind of pleased wonder.  <He's happy!!  *I'VE* made him happy!!> 

He caught her wrist in his hand and pulled her back to him.  With one smooth step he advanced upon her, making her personal space his own.  Theirs.  Startled, Willow flailed, nearly thrown off balance but his arms caught her, pulling her into a tempting embrace.  As her arms lifted to his neck of their own accord, his hands found her delicate waist.  His fingers splayed, spanning the width of her slight form easily and he lifted. 

Willow found herself dangling in his powerful grasp.  It felt so right that he should support her and hold her so.  He was still smiling, grinning really, as their eyes and then their lips caught.  Willow closed her eyes and let herself drift with the passion.  It was lazy and sensual, the urgency and mystery of the more recent past more subdued now that they were lovers.  Now they had an opportunity to explore and savor, to truly discover one another on the most elemental and primal level. 

Willow unexpectedly felt her back collide lightly with a concrete wall.  She'd been unaware of his movement and was taken slightly off-guard.  She found herself riding his thigh, her skirt slowly being hiked by his persistent fingers as they made out in an alleyway.  Their passion deepened, becoming relentless and wild before Angel finally managed to tear his mouth from hers with a low growl of denial. 

Willow met his eyes, understanding and agreement passing between them.  Her breath came in pants, her heart raced, and perspiration gathered in beads upon her brow and upper lip despite the chill night air.  "Race you back!" she called, turning to sprint back towards his apartment.  Angel watched her fly for a moment, long red hair streaming behind her through the night air like a wild thing, before he eagerly gave chase. 

".honesty is always the best policy."  Willow paused, mid-lecture, desperately trying to focus upon what she had been saying.  She lay on her stomach, her head turned to the side while Angel hovered over her.  He was busily nibbling and sucking upon the back of her neck and shoulder, as happy as a puppy with a new chew toy.  <I should be thankful that at least he doesn't slobber!!>  His unusual blending of teeth, tongue, suction and fang were distracting, to say the least.  <Easy girl!  Focus!  This is important.!  Now, where was I.?!> 

"Angel, are you listening to me?!"  she demanded, breaking off into an appreciative moan as his mouth found and massaged a particularly sore muscle over her shoulder blade.  He made her feel like a very special, very beloved toy.  And she loved being played with.  His hips pressed suggestively against her buttocks, his rigid manhood rubbing briefly against her.  Willow's thoughts scattered like marbles again.  <!!!> 

"Umm, hmm," he hummed in acknowledgment, moving to rest his weight upon his side, in order to free up a hand.  "Honesty, best," he agreed happily, his fangs scraping along the back of her neck again.  His freed hand slid down her back and over her derriere, rubbing in a most friendly fashion.  His hand then delved between her parted thighs, his fingers seeking. 

"Angel this is impor--TANT!!"  Willow squealed, desperately trying to burrow down into the waterbed mattress as his fingers found...!!  Her hips bucked wildly for a moment before she subsided on a contented moan.  Angel chuckled wickedly and pressed another kiss to the side of her face.  Willow whimpered again as his skilled fingers went to work.  <So unfair.  He's cheating.> 

"Don't worry, Willow," Angel assured her gently, his voice a throaty purr.  "No more lies.  I've learned my lesson."  Over the link, she heard him qualify his promise.  <I prefer subtle misdirection to blatant lies anyway.>  The thought was shameless and incorrigible.  He was laughing silently against her back. 

Willow made a feeble attempt to rally enough disapproval for a weak reprimand and failed as she hit a climax.  Pleasure washed through her in soft, slow waves, her body undulating through each one and the bed mirrored her movements like a living entity.  A moment later Angel gripped her hips, raising her buttocks enough to grant him easy access from behind.  Willow remained passive, allowing her body to be manipulated in any way he chose.  As his shaft slid home, impaling her from behind, she sighed and reflected.  <Sometimes it's best just to let a man have his way.!>