Friendship

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

Early the next morning, Willow lay still on her back, "playing 'possum" while Angel suckled gently upon her nipple, trying to "wake" her.  His mouth was a warm, wet suction over her aureole and he held himself poised carefully over her prone form in a push-up position, supported by his elbows.  His lower body rested comfortably between her parted thighs.  She felt his erection pressing urgently against her inner thigh and a slight smile curved her lips.  <I wonder how long he'll spend trying to wake me up before he just goes ahead...?> 

He was growing impatient.  He pushed himself more aggressively against her femininity and the waterbed rocked them gently with his movement.  Still, she refused to respond to the persuasive lapping of his tongue over her nipple.  The very tip of his manhood rubbed suggestively against her clitoris and then penetrated past to the wet inner folds eagerly awaiting him.  He nudged her entrance; she was more than ready. 

"Willow," Angel pleaded in a soft whisper, desperately seeking some response.  Some small thread of conscience kept him from violating her outright without permission.  They hadn't been lovers long enough for him to feel comfortable taking her in her sleep.  Still... he knew she was faking.  At least, he strongly suspected.  Through the link, he tried to ascertain her state of alertness and Willow skillfully sent back the impression of deep sleep.  <ZZZZZZZZZ....> 

She overdid it.  "Two can play at this game," he muttered darkly, sounding like his game face might be sliding into place.  Instead, he slid his shaft forward and down. The full length of him massaged her clitoris, her inner and outer lips, the entrance of her vagina, and finally the tip of his shaft brushed her buttocks.  Repeatedly.  It was more than Willow could stand.  She came awake instantly, gasping and reaching desperately for his hips.  Her eyes popped open and she found herself staring straight up into Angel's smug and very sadistic smirk. 

He teased her again, denying her attempts to force him into her with the unholy strength of his kind.  He chuckled as she whimpered and slid past her again, creating enough friction to drive her wild, but skillfully denying her climax.  "Beg, Willow."  He ground out the words against her mouth, grinding himself against her again.  She cried out in frustration, digging her fingernails abusively into his buttocks and no doubt drawing blood.  Neither of them noticed or cared. 

Finally, she caved.  "Angel, please..." she begged, tossing away her pride and not caring.  The begging made it all that much more sweetly erotic when he finally thrust into her.  The waterbed roiled wildly under them; just as the up and coming young temptress went wild under her lover.  Willow climaxed immediately and he followed soon after.  Their mating was short, violent, and explosive. Afterwards, sated, they fell asleep again in each other's arms. 

The persistently over-pressed buzzing of Angel's door bell awakened them both at the ungodly hour of 9:00AM.  Angel rolled out of bed with an irritated snarl, wearing only his game face, his demeanor reminiscent of a newly risen vampire.  He looked ready to shred whomever dared commit the offense of awakening them at this hour of the morning.  Willow, a tad slower, got stuck trying to climb off the stormy mattress left in the wake of his passing.  She pried a red, bloodshot eyeball open to peer at the neon red digits of Angel's alarm clock.  <Yuck!  Who would be rude enough to come calling at this hour!!!> 

As Angel pulled open the closet searching for a pair of pants, Willow dragged herself off the bed.  "Who could that be?" she groaned.  The buzzer continued to blare in the background, as irritating and difficult to ignore as an air raid siren.  Willow dragged the sheet over her naked body, realizing that she had nothing to wear.  Angel's bathrobe was still somewhere in the living room and her frilly dress lay torn to shreds on the bedroom floor, victim of yet another one of their games.  He finished dressing and noticed her dilemma for the first time.  He dug out a pair of sweats and a large white tee-shirt from the dresser and tossed them to her.  She caught them reflexively.  <Gym clothes!  I wonder if Angel works out?!> 

"I'll give you three guesses," he muttered darkly.  "Buffy, Xander, or both..."  He still wore his demonic visage and Willow began to feel somewhat nervous as she stuffed herself into his clothes.  They were far too large, but serviceable.  Angel radiated hostility and a generally grumpy attitude that immediately alerted Willow to the suspicion that her lover <...husband...> might not be a morning person.  <Well, Duh!>  Fortunately, he waited for her to dress instead of rushing off alone to shred the obnoxious caller.  <That's probably a good thing...> 

The buzzer sounded shrilly again, as she finished pulling on his shirt.  Angel whirled, heading out the bedroom door.  "ANGEL, WAIT!!" Willow snapped, losing her already strained temper.  He ground instantly to a halt, glaring back at her with surprise and some resentment.  "I'll handle this!" she informed him tersely.  "Mind your manners!" she warned, returning his glare.  <This will go badly for everyone if he doesn't let me handle it...  Xander is almost guaranteed to say something to anger Angel or hurt Buffy...  It's almost a reflex for him...> 

For a moment, internal conflict shone in his eyes and indecision played across his countenance.  He almost looked ready to argue with her.  She tensed and met his stare evenly, daring him to try her.  Abruptly, his face shifted to human.  Calm remoteness descended upon his demeanor like a fresh blanket of snow.  Then he stepped aside, wordlessly conceding to her wisdom and committing to following her lead.  Willow tried to keep her relief from her face; she didn't want to be at odds with Angel.  His concession demonstrated a maturity which she found oddly pleasing.  <It's nice that his ego's not so swollen that he--!!  Damn!!  There goes that friggin' buzzer again!> 

Willow hurried past him, heading for the front door.  She felt his eyes on her back and his silent presence as he fell in behind her.  She sensed he'd remain remote and silent, letting her handle this matter so long as things did not get out of control.  She charged the com-panel on the living room wall, beginning to feel a rush of self-confidence.  <I faced down Sean and held my own with Guillaume...!!  Giles and Angel both respect me.  Xander and Buffy should be manageable also.> 

It took her only a moment to inspect and analyze the com-panel while the obnoxious buzzing continued.  <I suppose it's good that Angel has such a good security system or they'd probably have broken in by now!>  She punched the correct button to speak.  "Yes?" she demanded into the microphone.  She felt out of sorts and her voice betrayed her irritation.  The word was terse and emerged on a soft snarl.  Willow winced.  <I'm beginning to sound like a vampire myself.!!> 

The buzzing ceased immediately upon an astonished hiccup.  "Willow?!!" Xander exclaimed, clearly astonished to hear Angel's innocent and helpless prisoner answering the door.  "Are you ok?!!  Let me in!  Quick!!"  Willow clicked her tongue with exasperation and hit the buzzer, allowing Xander into the elevator.  <I only heard Xander.  I wonder if Buffy is with him or if he came alone...?> 

She glanced over at Angel, carefully evaluating his mood.  He'd taken up a seemingly casual stance near the center of the room with his arms at his sides, facing the elevator.  He'd left himself plenty of room to meet an attack and maneuver; he clearly expected trouble.  His subconscious body language said so, even though his manner was deceptively relaxed  "You really should have some sort of lobby connected to your elevator,"  Willow muttered, scurrying to step in front of him.  She deliberately placed herself directly in front of him, intending to cut off any potential conflict before it occurred.  Again, she wished for the buffer zone that a lobby would have provided.  <I wonder what his management could have been thinking when they designed this building?!> 

"I own the building," Angel replied concisely, in response to her unspoken question.  "I seldom have guests, especially uninvited ones, so it didn't seem necessary at the time."  He lapsed back into silence and together they waited tensely for the elevator door to open.  The relatively short wait seemed to take an eternity.  <A slow painful eternity...  Just remember, remain calm, cool and rational...  Explain that I'm fine, offer reassurance, apologize for hurt feelings and send them on their way quickly so that I can use the little girl's room...!!> 

Finally the elevator doors slid open to reveal Xander alone, wielding a cross in one hand and a stake in the other.  He looked tired, angry, and more than ready to pick a fight or slay some vampire butt.  He stepped out of the elevator, taking in Willow first, and then alertly noting Angel hovering not too far behind her.  His mouth opened but he did not speak as he digested their appearance.  Mr. Magoo could not have missed their rumpled state of dress, nor their bed-head hair.  Xander didn't either.  He leapt instantly to the logical conclusion; the one he'd actually already arrived at, long before seeing them together.  Obviously, Angel had taken advantage of poor, sweet, defenseless Willow. 

"YOU BASTARD!!" Xander exclaimed, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive.  Clearly furious that the much loathed and mistrusted Angel had slept with HIS Willow, he visibly gathered himself and advanced towards Angel, preparing to attack.  His reaction was worse than she'd expected.  His blatantly hostile reaction caught her unprepared, primarily because her own wistfully optimistic thinking had prevented her from expecting this.  Suddenly, Willow found herself wishing fervently for Buffy.  <Buffy would be a good calming influence...  And where is Buffy...?!  Why couldn't she have come too...?!> 

Xander charged towards Willow, intending to slay Angel.  Acting on impulse, Angel gave into the Change, moving forward with the clear and compelling image of Xander's lifeless corpse dominating his mind.  Before either Xander or Willow reacted, he'd already reined in the deadly impulse but it was too late.  Xander saw him change and moved to shove Willow aside, bracing himself to meet Angel's onslaught.  Angel also went for Willow, determined to remove her from harm's way before the lunatic with the stake accidentally stabbed the wrong person.  Willow, trapped in between them, found herself being rushed from in front by a furious teenage boy wielding a stake and from behind by a furious vampire ready to commit mayhem. 

Willow threw herself towards Xander, grabbing for his weapon.  "XANDER!!!"  She screamed, subconsciously grabbing hold of his arm with the same telepathic/telekinetic power she'd used against Mike.  "PUT THAT DOWN NOW!!!"  Xander's arm jerked, responding to her mental direction.  He hurled the stake to the ground with every ounce of strength in his body.  Unnoticed, Xander's cross dropped to the floor also.  She saw Angel reaching for his throat and blind terror set in like venom. Faster than thought, she slammed Angel hard, delivering a jarring mental blow that sent him staggering.  Xander's expression became horrified and he stared at his arm as if he'd suddenly sprouted an alien tentacle.  Abruptly, Willow ceased her assault on Angel and released control of Xander's arm. 

"What the hell...?!" Xander muttered, forgetting about the fight.  He stared blankly at his own arm as if it were an atrocity, still not comprehending.  He did not understand that moments before his limb had been Willow's puppet.  With sickening horror, Willow realized exactly what she'd just done and what could have happened.  <Xander could have been killed...> 

Deeply buried memories of the Mike's death welled back up.  She relived seizing Mike's arm, ruthlessly enslaving his mind, her hatred, and the ugly satisfaction she taken in his death. She began to cry as the memories broke over an emotional levy, releasing a flood of repressed grief, guilt, and self-disgust.  She'd not yet considered the meaning of her actions, of lost innocence and bloody hands.  She's not yet taken responsibility for murdering, nor accepted the satisfaction she'd derived from killing.  <I murdered and I enjoyed it...  And just now, I could have killed again, casually and without thought...  But this time it would have been my friend and not my enemy...> 

Angel swore harshly, shoving Xander aside with unnecessary force.  "Don't you ever think of anyone but yourself?" he viciously demanded of the boy.  Angel was still very much on edge and he barely constrained the desire to rip Xander's head from his shoulders.  Instead, he channeled the impulse into words, as he gathered the keening girl into his arms.  "You're crueler than a vampire," he hissed.  His words were calculated to cut and he threw a demon's fury into the insult.  Xander blanched and even Willow cringed at the harshness of the accusation.  She kicked open the link, sending him a curt warning, and began to ease out of his arms.  <ANGEL, LET ME HANDLE THIS!!  And start acting like an adult!!  You're two-hundred years old and he's a sixteen year old boy!!!> 

"Make it quick," he responded with equal curtness.  "Before I throttle him," Angel muttered under his non-existent breath, while maneuvering to keep himself between Willow and Xander. 

For a moment, baffled confusion played across Xander's pale face, before he registered exactly what Angel had said.  "Like Hell!" he muttered, drawing himself up with freshly renewed outrage.  "You stupid bastard!  I'm going to stake you for rap--" 

She felt Angel becoming rigid next to her; another word and Xander would be dead.  "SHUT UP!!!"  Willow shouted, cutting off Xander before he could complete the insult that WOULD get him killed.  She spun to face Xander  "BOTH OF YOU!!."  Nearly hysterical with fear, she silenced them both with a powerful mental slap that carried far more weight than any spoken command could.  <NO MORE!!!> 

The bizarre experience of hearing her voice in his head knocked Xander even further off-balance.  Angel snapped his mouth shut, his dark eyes flashing.  "I'm getting sick of this," she ground out at both of them, feeling like a lion tamer without a whip or a chair.  "Xander, we told Giles that we wanted to be left alone."  She hesitated, trying to force the accusation out of her tone.  "I knew that you wouldn't be able to respect my wishes, but now that you're here I want you to listen to me."  She drew herself up, meeting his gaze levelly.  "LEAVE.  I don't want you here.  I want to be alone with Angel."  She advanced, her eyes boring into his, driving him back with the force of her anger. 

Xander's eyes widened with further confusion.  "Will--??"  He floundered uncertainly, shocked at the depth of her rage.  Shocked herself, Willow gnashed her teeth and sent a prayer heavenward for patience...  <Someday he's going to push me too far and I'll go after him with an ax...> 

"I have an ax in the library," Angel muttered, his words emerging on a soft snarl.  The image of an enraged Willow wielding an ax vastly appealed to his dark and somewhat twisted sense of humor.  Through the link he made it quite clear that he'd love and adore her eternally, even if she became an ax murderer in her free time.  "Do you want me to go get it?" His hopeful offer was charged with eager enthusiasm. 

Willow was NOT amused.  Despite herself, her already fragile hold on her frayed temper began to slip.  Normally an incredibly patient and understanding person, Xander's unwarranted attack and Angel's immature taunts seriously tried her self-control.  She understood all to well that Xander's display of masculine hostility stemmed from his desire to protect her, but deep down she suspected that this was primarily about his bruised ego.  <It's times like these when I understand all too well how it is that nice people suddenly lose it...  The quiet guy next door...  The long suffering postal worker...> 

"Both of you just stop it!"  Willow commanded, tearing herself out of Angel's arms.  Her fist lashed out and ineffectually struck his arm, doing no damage but expressing some of her anger.  Angel remained silently hostile, exuding demonic rage and refusing to give ground or change back.  Knowing that there was little she could do to intimidate him, she turned her scorching wrath on Xander. <His attack may have been motivated by good intentions, but at this point I really didn't give a damn anymore...  He's uninvited here and it was unprovoked...> 

"What do you THINK you're doing here?" she demanded of Xander.  "Did Giles NOT make it clear to you that we wanted to be left ALONE?"  She asked primarily to distract him from Angel, not because she really needed to know.  In fact, she'd instinctively known deep down that Xander would not--could not--respect her wishes.  <But then, it's not really in his nature to respect other people...  Well, except maybe Buffy...> 

She winced, shoving the uncharacteristically uncharitable thought aside.  Unreasoning anger drove her harsh words and condemnatory thoughts.  Xander was utterly thoughtless and inconsiderate, but not wholly lacking in respect.  <He respects me as a person...  He just can't keep sight of that while he's blinded by distrust of Angel...> 

After a considerable pause, Xander yelled.  "CLEAR ENOUGH?!"  He was shouting at the top of his lungs; his voice rife with outrage and disbelief.  "Oh, Yeah!!" he replied sarcastically.  "Giles told us all right."  He glared at her, then his accusatory gaze shifted briefly to Angel.  "I just couldn't believe it, that's all," he sneered, looking back to her.  "I couldn't believe that YOU would willingly give yourself to HIM."  His eyes, voice, manner, even his mind held caustic reproach, that sweet, chaste Willow had sunk so low. 

Willow nearly bit off her tongue attempting to hold back a rebuke so scathing that even Angel might have blushed.  Beside her, she felt Angel fighting down the impulse to beat Xander into a bloody pulp.  She exhaled, forcing calm, reaching for the control.  Her palm itched to smack Xander silly for the insult he'd just delivered; he was practically calling her a whore.  Even Xander seemed to realize the blunder he'd just made, as he performed a double-take.  "That's none of your business," she hissed, dredging the depths of her soul for equilibrium.  <Just remember, he's your friend.  You love him.  He's jealous.  He doesn't trust Angel...> 

"No?  How so?"  Xander inquired sarcastically.  His manner became more defensive as he tired to cover for his insult and to justify his actions.  "Am I supposed to stand by while HE--"  Xander stabbed at Angel with an incensed, accusing finger.  "Uses and then kills you?"  His eyes dropped briefly to the fallen stake, subconsciously betraying his intention to retrieve and use it.  He intended to save Willow from both Angel and herself, in spite of herself.  She obviously did not know what was best for herself; her judgment being seriously clouded, possibly even impaired.  "Look at him, Willow."  Xander gestured at Angel.  "He's a demon.  No curse, no soul.  Remember?" he demanded, reminding her of Angel's lies.  "He's setting you up so that he can kill you," he insisted. 

Angel uttered the softest, deadliest growl she'd ever heard from him.  It began deep in the back of his throat like a cat's purr and rolled out of him on a vocal wave.  Panicked, Willow grabbed Angel's arm, as if she could physically restrain him if he chose to attack.  "Where's Buffy?"  she pleaded, ignoring Xander's accusations.  She still hoped to defuse this situation before it resulted in violence and someone actually got hurt.  Desperately, she found herself wishing for the Slayer's presence, knowing that Buffy's calm authority and direction could calm both Xander and Angel down.  Xander simply did not respect Willow enough, in the right ways, to obey her now.  His continued hostility acted as a catalyst upon Angel, provoking him again every time she began to get him calmed down..  <If this continues, I'm going to have to resort to telepathy again...> 

"Buffy is 'respecting' your wishes by staying away," Xander jeered derisively.  "Do you have any idea how much the two of you are hurting her?"  He slammed the question home with a tone that held censure and condemnation.  He held himself as her judge, jury and executioner, in a manner typical of his impulsive snap judgments about other people.  That he spoke to her so left Willow fairly stunned.  She'd seen him leap to unfair conclusions about other people before, she'd seen him act insulting and derisively towards other people, but she'd never imagined that he could do so to her.  <Not in a million years...  I've been his best friend since we were kids...  How can this be happening...?> 

Suddenly, the meaning of his words sank in.  "B-b-b-ut!" she sputtered, flailing helplessly.  "You and Buffy!" she protested, nearly speechless and mostly incoherent.    The very implication hurt, Willow as well as Angel.  She could feel pain and denial seeping though his being like a slow acid burn.  "You and Buffy are dating," she forced herself to say.  Her carefully arranged shields began to disintegrate as her mind continued to flounder.  <This CAN'T be happening...> 

"Like Hell!"  Xander snorted a denial.  "Buffy was using ME to make IT jealous!" He stabbed that same angry finger in Angel's general direction while broadcasting loudly.  His emotions practically screaming at her across the room.  Injured pride, chafing ego, anger at Buffy for using and rejecting him, anger at Willow for daring to behave in a manner that didn't match his expectations, hatred of Angel, terror for Willow's safety.  All those things flooded her mind uninvited.  Unwittingly and unwillingly, she suddenly understood his every motivation and emotion.  <Buffy broke up with him...  She still loves Angel and turned to Xander out of fear and confusion after their fight...  Oh My God!!  This is awful...!!> 

Beside her, she felt Angel reeling emotionally, scrambling desperately with denial and hurt.  He wanted to ream Xander for even suggesting such.  He despised Xander for inflicting this upon Willow and himself; they neither wanted or deserved any more pain.  "That's a lie," he murmured, barely speaking above a whisper.  He did not actually believe his own accusation, but instead desperately wished it to be so. Emotionally, he and Willow had accepted Buffy and Xander's relationship; had begun to heal and move on.  This threatened to reopen old wounds. 

Abruptly, a strange, almost icy calm descended over her.  Her world abruptly oriented itself like a suddenly stilled gyroscope and Willow found herself emotionally back in control.  She turned to Angel, capturing his gaze.  "Angel, go wait in the other room," she commanded crisply, making it clear by her tone that she expected her husband to obey.  He hesitated, looked uneasy and rebellious, like a small child being sent to his room.  "Please?" she pleaded gently.  "I need to talk to Xander alone," she clarified, keeping her gaze steady.  <I'll be safe.  I can handle him...>  At her mental assurance, Angel gave in.  He nodded, respecting her judgment.  Then, he turned and left the room, complying with her wishes. 

She turned back to Xander.  He still stood his ground courageously, looking hurt, angry, and confused.  Her heart softened with compassion she'd previously been too upset to feel.  Before, she'd been so angry with him that she'd not understood his motivations and his pain.  "Xander," she began compassionately.  "I'm sorry.  I know you don't like Angel, and believe it or not, we didn't plan this."  He began to reply but she held up two fingers to his lips to shush him.  "Let me finish, please."  Xander nodded consent and she removed her hand.  <Oh, God!  How to best say this?!> 

"I was in love with you for years," she stated bluntly, surprising herself and him.  Remarkably, it felt liberating to finally confess, to finally be free of unrequited love and the accompanying fear of rejection.  She no longer feared such rejection from him, nor held any secret fantasies for their future together as anything more than friends.  Xander looked stunned, as awkward and uncomfortable as he always looked when her love for him was alluded to.  "But I'm past that now," she rushed on, seeking to reassure him.  His emotions swirled crazily, like a muddy river flooding, and instead of relief she sensed an undefined sense of loss emanating from him.  It confused her until she remembered the moment last week when he'd almost kissed her, before the vampire interrupted.  She sighed.  <Why can't things ever be clean...?> 

"Will, I--" he began, clearly ill at ease with this entire discussion.  His eyes held fear that he'd lost her friendship completely and she rushed to cut him off and reassure him. 

"It's ok, Xander."  Willow smiled generously at him, offering him her love as his friend and nothing more.  Deliberately, she sent him the feeling, letting him briefly share her emotions with the intimacy she normally reserved for another.  "But YOU have to understand.  Angel loved Buffy and it hurt both of us a great deal when we thought you were together.  But we set that aside because we loved both of you enough to want happiness for you."  Xander's expression still resembled that of a Twilight Zone victim; his Willow had clearly been snatched and replaced by an alien clone.  <Which I would probably wonder myself, if I hadn't been there...> 

Willow ignored his disbelief and persisted, determined to make her point.  "I expect you to do the same for us.  You owe it to me as my friend.  Angel has proposed and I've accepted."  She paused again, realizing how ludicrous this must sound to him.  <That does sounds a little extreme, coming from a sixteen year old...> 

"Married?!"  Xander squawked, staring at the Willow clone bug-eyed.  "Do you have any idea what your parents are going to say?!" he demanded, unable and unwilling to believe this conversation was real.  Mentally, he chalked it up a bad dream, probably caused by one of the gastro-intestinal nightmares he frequently consumed before bed.  She winced; he did have a point.  <My parents are probably going to ground me forever...  I'm just glad that I won't need to hide the truth from them, the way Buffy does...> 

"We might have to wait for a couple years, till I'm of age," she agreed, trying to sound reasonable.  "But that will be ok.  Angel doesn't mind waiting."  She swiftly moved on, coming back to her desire to be left alone with Angel.  She found this next the hardest to address.  "There's still a good chance that Angel might die, which is why we want to spend our remaining time together alone."  She held up a silencing hand as he looked ready to protest.  "This isn't open to discussion.  I'm telling you, not asking.  Now go home and I'll see you tonight.  I promised to meet Giles at the library after sunset." 

Xander offered several more protests, which she dismissed.  He clearly didn't like the circumstance but Willow left him with no more choice than she'd given Giles.  Her manner was brisk and somewhat curt, as she was not yet wholly over being mad at him.  Swiftly and authoritatively, she hugged Xander good-bye and sent him on his way.   He departed still deeply disturbed; things were not yet ok between them.  To herself, she acknowledged that they might not be for a while.  Some things took time.  As the elevator doors closed, she turned back to the living room.  <Now I need to scold Angel...  But first, bathroom...!!> 

Willow finished off the last carton of Chinese food and dumped the garbage in the kitchen trash can.  It was almost 11:30AM and both she and Angel had eaten and showered.  Her hair was still damp and she wore only Angel's bathrobe again.  She'd called Giles at the appointed time and he'd been unable to report anything new other than that Sean had called to check in.  Giles, clearly deeply disturbed, had related a rather cordial conversation he'd engaged in with Angel's brother.  He'd conveyed Sean's assurance that Guillaume was still safe and sound in Monterey.  "Not a bad chap," Giles had observed dryly of Sean.  "For a vampire," he'd qualified, as an afterthought. 

She returned to the couch, reflecting with her own dry humor upon Giles comments.  She sat back down, being careful not to disturb the slumbering Cat curled on the back of the couch.  "Mew?" the feline squeaked sleepily.  Willow reached up to pat her, while she fingered the heavy, ornate silver ring dangling from a silver chain about her neck absently.  <Poor Giles, the very foundation of his faith is being challenged.  One thing's for sure though!  There are going to be changes in the Watcher organization once I'm in charge!  I'm going to computerize their entire information system!  Who knows how many countless hours have been wasted digging through dusty old books doing "research"...??!> 

Lost in thought, she paid only the vaguest attention to the large screen tv set.  'Prophecy' was on, but the sound was quite low.  Willow did not really need to pay more than marginal attention to the plot, as she'd seen the movie before.  She'd chosen the movie out of a strange sense of perversity; warring angels and prophecies seemed appropriate, considering.  To her endless amusement, she'd discovered that Angel didn't even know how to turn on, let alone operate, his own entertainment center.  When asked why he even owned one, he'd skillfully avoided answering.  "Unfulfilled fantasies," he'd replied cryptically and snuck off to call his lawyer.  <He's so cute.!!!  Fantasies about watching tv!  My very own technological virgin!!> 

As angels battled upon the tv screen, her own Angel was in the library, faxing paperwork back to his lawyer.  The paperwork legally made one Willow Rosenburg joint owner of Angel's entire estate.  She'd signed only at his request, and had deliberately avoided examining what she'd been signing too carefully.  For all she knew or cared, she'd just signed away her first born child.  <Not that I'll ever have one.> 

The act of signing the paperwork felt like an admission of defeat.  Angel had told her not to look upon it that way; he'd have done the same under normal circumstances also.  As his wife, she would be entitled to his property, especially in light of the fact that his previous beneficiary, Father Matthew, was now deceased.  Mournfully, she fingered the ring, silently grieving for loss of unborn child and husband.  The ring was far too large for her slender fingers so she wore it upon the chain instead.  Angel had promised her a ring that fit properly as soon as was reasonably possible.  A tear escaped, tracking down her cheek.  <My wedding ring.> 

She knew that Angel still loved Buffy deeply.  He hadn't tried to hide it from her or to make excuses, but he also did not shove it in her face.  It just was; a simple fact that in no way detracted from nor lessened the love that he shared with Willow.  He'd committed himself to her completely and utterly, leaving her with no doubts as to who he belonged to.  He seemed to accept and expect with the simple wisdom of an immortal that his feelings for Buffy would eventually lessen and fade. 

But things were different now.  Willow found herself suddenly plagued again with doubts about the rightness of what they were committing to.  Angel's love for Buffy was recast in a whole new light now that she knew that Buffy returned his feelings.  Before she'd not minded nor resented, understanding all too well his feelings because of her own unrequited love for Xander.  Now, however, she found herself doubting, resenting, and beginning to question.  <I love Buffy too.  Not the way Angel does, of course, but as my best friend.> 

She reddened slightly, remembering Angel's untoward suggestion regarding herself and the Slayer.  She'd deserved the jibe at the time; after all, he'd caught her trying to violate his privacy.  Hastily, she pushed aside the image, reflecting that nothing was completely pure or innocent anymore.  <The price one pays for knowledge.> 

Xander's revelation had upset the relative stability and security of their fledgling relationship.  Willow felt threatened by her friend's continued love for Angel and guilty about having effectively stolen her best friend's man.  She'd snatched Angel away from Buffy during a tumultuous week.  They'd been having relationship issues stemming from Buffy's 'mating ritual' with Xander, Angel's jealousy, Buffy's nightmares, and then The Fight.  <Last, but not least...!!  They almost killed each other.  And that's not even mentioning everything else that happened this week.> 

The Archangel Gabriel finished torturing the Angel Simon, finally letting his victim die.  Willow found the movie's portrayal of angels to be disturbing, no matter how many times she saw the movie.  It unsettled her to see celestial creatures acting so viciously.  Her internal woes continued to eat at her and she wished that Angel would hurry back.  <I'm a Jezebel.!!  Ok, maybe that's a little harsh.   But Buffy's feelings were obvious and right under my nose and I CHOSE not to see them.> 

As she pondered what to do next, she acknowledged that there was no going back.  Hindsight may be twenty-twenty, but Angel had proposed and she had accepted.  They shared a powerful love and a mutual commitment.  <So why am I having this conversation.?  I know why...  If I'm going to be the Immortal Watcher, then I should be putting the Slayer's needs before my own...  That's something I haven't really considered the implications of yet...  And how can I be with Angel and still fulfill my duty to Buffy...?> 

Unexpectedly, Angel's hand touched her shoulder, silently offering support and love.  "You've been hiding your feelings from me, Willow," he scolded softly, moving to sit down beside her.  Not waiting for a reply from the sniffling young woman, he pulled her into his arms, settling her onto his lap.  He pushed the link open, intruding upon her privacy in a manner very unlike him.  Normally, he let her choose their moments of joining and allowed her into his mind.  <You've helped me begin healing, let me help you.> 

His offer was insistent and backed by the full strength of his dominating personality.  She sensed unfailing strength and an ability to endure suffering far beyond her own limited capacity, one born of years of guilt and loneliness.  Willow, didn't possess the willpower to resist, even if she'd wanted to.  She'd reached her utmost limits and teetered upon the edge of breaking.  Letting him take away her fear, uncertainty and hurt was easy.  She made no effort to resist as he drew the pain into himself, relieving her of her emotional burden.  He made no judgments nor comments upon the content of her troubled thoughts.  He simply accepted and understood.  "Our love is voluntary, not a prison," he murmured.  "I'm here if you need me and you're always free to leave." 

Willow turned her face gratefully into his shoulder and his lips touched her forehead.  "Thank-you," she whispered, knowing that no thanks were necessary.  What he did for her, she'd done for him and would do again, if need be.  They were now one, husband and wife, sharing all of the burdens and joys that such entailed.  He held her still, his only acknowledgment the slight movement of his lips against her forehead as he smiled.  She sighed, feeling weak.  <My husband.  Angelus.???  Gee, I've agreed to marry the man and I don't even know his last name!!!> 

She snorted softly, appreciating the irony.  There was still so much that she didn't know about him and yet she knew him so well, better than most wives ever came to know their husbands.  She knew his heart, his mind and his soul; his fears, hopes, and dreams, but she didn't know over a hundred and sixty years of his past.  Years which he kept carefully locked away from her sight, even now.  And ironically, his last name was buried away somewhere in the depths of his mind.  His human identity was hidden beneath the years of carnage and violence he'd inflicted upon so many victims, beginning with his own family.  <Well, I intend to right this wrong immediately.!!> 

"Angel?"  Willow demanded, her voice regaining some of its strength.  Her tone made it clear that she would have what she wanted of him, no matter what.  Angel opened his eyes and peered down at her curiously, wondering what had provoked the suddenly determined set of her jaw and the combative light in her eyes.  "What's your last name?"  She glared, using nonverbal intimidation to make it clear he'd better give the information up willing, with no equivocating and no subterfuge. 

Angel smiled suddenly, looking immensely relieved.  For a moment he'd feared that something might be seriously wrong.  "Boyle," he supplied with a ready grin.  With no small amount of pride he recited his heritage.  "Earls of Cork and Shannon, descended from Richard Boyle, our first ancestor to arrive in Ireland in 1588.  Our family is primarily of Norman noble descent, although there was some breeding done with the Brits."  He added this last tidbit of information in a hushed whisper, managing to convey the impression of a dirty little secret, a family skeleton best kept hidden in the closet. 

Willow giggled, unable to contain her glee.  It was one of the most straightforward pieces of voluntary information he'd ever offered.  She was amazed and delighted, both with his uncharacteristic forthcomingness and his hereditary titles.  She didn't care if such titles were irrelevant in this day and age.  <An Earl!!  How romantic!!>  Willow laughed again, enchanted with the fantasy and Angel did nothing to curb her hyper burst of hysterical giggling.  Instead he smiled and watched, enchanted with her and absently wondering how long it would take her notice the effect her squirming was having on him. 

Willow burrowed happily into Angel and deliberately turned her head slightly, offering him the side of her throat.  He couldn't resist the tempting expanse of pale, tender flesh and within moments his mouth was glued to the sensitive spot right under her ear.  His mouth was a warm, moist pressure accompanied by the stroking touch of his talented tongue.  It took all of her willpower not to squirm wildly.  To her delight, she'd discovered that Angel's mouth was nearly always busy sucking and nibbling on one thing or another.  He was worse than a teething baby in some ways, none of which she minded.  His oral fixation was an endless source of pleasure and she'd begun to develop a heightened appreciation of his tongue.  It was fast, flexible and strong.  <Everything a tongue should be.> 

Still, for all the distraction he provided, certain things still made her wonder.  "Angel.?"  Willow sighed, turning her head even further to the side, so that the side of her face rested against his forearm.  Obligingly, his mouth drifted lower on her neck, kissing the side of her throat.  On the television screen, the little Indian girl who'd befriended an angel suffered horrible visions of carnage and death.  Willow's quick, analytical mind returned to her own very personal Prophecy.  For the countless time, she tore apart its possible meanings and interpretations.  <Hmmm.  "...In Heaven's glory, before a Host of Angels, shall Immortal Life be yours."> 

"Mmm.?"  Angel hummed a faint response, his mind not really upon conversation.  Another thing Willow had learned rather quickly, men did not seem to be very adept at talking or thinking while making love.  <Of course, I'm using Angel as my baseline.  And assuming, of course, that a guy who's over two hundred should be able to multi-task.!!> 

"Do you actually believe in angels?" she asked, pouncing upon her own hapless male with the unexpected question like a cat pouncing on a careless mouse.  She was actually disappointed when his mouth stopped its delightful nibbling.  Angel froze, poised over her neck in mid-nip, thrown completely off balance.  "Yes," he finally supplied, after a long, drawn out pause.  "Why?" 

"Because, I've been thinking."  she began tentatively, twisting around to see him better.  She'd subconsciously begun adopting some of his more thoughtful speech patterns, instead of simply blurting everything out.  Angel rolled his eyes, suggesting 'Oh, No!  Not that!' with his expression.  Willow grrd softly at him and pounded his solid chest once with her small fist.  "About the Prophecy's 'host of angels' and about some of the stuff Sean said about your mother seeing angels."  She shrugged demurely, to demonstrate uncertainty.  "I was sort of wondering if they are supposed to be figurative angels or literal ones." 

Angel pulled away from her neck, giving her implicit request for more information careful consideration.  He took her musings quite seriously.  "My mother was blessed and well loved by Heaven's angels," he finally supplied.  "Darla was jealous of her piety.  It was one of the reasons that she embraced Sean and I."  He shifted, restless, as unpleasant memories began to surface.  This clearly was not one of his favorite topics for casual conversation.  "Sean couldn't see them, so he never believed in them.  It was easier for him that way." 

"But you could.?"  Willow asked with an almost breathless awe.  Her eyes widened with wonder.  <I never suspected.!!!  How does he manage to keep so many secrets.?!> 

"When I was very young," Angel conceded, looking uneasy.  "Before I began to grow up," he explained.  "Angels are fierce, glorious creatures, full of fury and holy wrath.  Nothing like these post-card cherubs you see everywhere today."  His words were scoffing, mocking the modern, popular image of angels.  In his mind's eye she could see his memories of the ethereal creatures beginning to surface.  A brief and somewhat derogatory comparison of angels and demons crossed his mind, somewhere near the periphery of his conscious thoughts.  Willow frowned, chasing the intriguing thought through his mind, bouncing and skidding after it like a kitten chasing a butterfly.  Finally, she caught it.  <Demons are fallen angels.> 

"What does that mean?!" she demanded, sitting up straighter.    Angel grunted, unhappy with the seating arrangements now and shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position.  It took some position jockeying, but they finally settled down again. 

Angel stared at her sideways for a moment.  "Revelations 12.7-12.9," he supplied.  Seeing her lack of comprehension, he elaborated further, quoting from the New Testament. "Now war arose in heaven, Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon; and the dragon and his angels fought, but they were defeated and there was no longer any place for them in heaven.  And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole earth--he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him." 

"Basically, demons are fallen angels," he summarized off-handedly.  "It's a simplistic but practical way of interpreting the Scripture."  Willow said nothing, thinking.  "Matthew agreed with me on the theological interpretation," he added defensively, as if he needed to justify his explanation.  "The war in heaven arose because angels were jealous both of Man for replacing them as the most favored of god's creations and because Man possessed souls, which they lacked.  A third of the angels rebelled, lead by the Archangel Lucifer and were cast down out of heaven."  He paused patiently, allowing her time to respond.  She raised an eyebrow at him and cast out a mental prod for him to keep going.  <There is more, isn't there?> 

He nodded yes and continued his story with a steady story-telling tone that was a far cry from his faltering manner from the  early days <last Wednesday> of their relationship.  Angel was becoming quite an accomplished speaker.  "I've always been an accomplished speaker," he corrected her absently.  "I just fell out of practice.  Supposedly, according to the Watchers and various other scholarly authorities, including many vampires, the demon doesn't take your soul when you cross over.  Others, like Kindred, maintain that the vampire retains its soul and sovereignty over the demon.  But it's hard to prove one way or the other."  He hesitated briefly, still unaccustomed to opening himself up so completely.  His verbal hiccup told her they were entering dangerous territory.  She sighed.  <And the most sensitive of the Angels said...?!> 

Angel frowned faintly at her satirical humor.  She dropped her good-natured ribbing instantly.  "Go ahead," Willow urged gently, silently offering unconditional love, letting him know that she'd never reject or condemn him.  <I'd love you even if we found out that you don't have a soul...> 

Angel unconsciously drew in a deep, unneeded breath; it betrayed his uncertainty and fear.  "I have a theory," he stated bluntly.  "I think it's both.  The demon does take the soul and lends its power to create the vampire.  But because it lacks soul and that's what it craves, it adopts the personality and memories of the host, thus corrupting the soul with its taint."  Angel looked scared, as if he were speaking a blasphemy before his God.  "It would be so nice, so clean if it happened the way the Watchers claim, but it doesn't, Willow."  Their eyes caught and held, his tormented, hers compassionate.  "Your soul--the person you were--is there trapped inside the entire time as your body commits atrocities and all you can do is watch." 

"What happened to you, Angel?"   Willow asked gently, wondering how he had possessed the strength to overcome the demon.  <He did it without Sean's Magick, as an act of will.  I admire him so much for what he's accomplished.> 

He opened his mouth to explain but she cut him off, needing to say this now, before her courage failed.  "I need to know if becoming a vampire is a viable option for me or not," she blurted out, forcing herself to speak the ugly words.  "You could drain me and vamp me.  If I retain my soul and you and Sean could teach me to control the bloodlust, then we'd both live..."