Friendship

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

Like a child enchanted with a pretty toy, Willow stared up into Guillaume's eyes with innocent wonder.  He had such beautiful pale blue eyes.  They were cold and distant, like light sapphire gems, only to Willow, they seemed colder than gemstones.  She marveled at how pale his alabaster skin seemed and absently noted his fine, aristocratic features.  Ultimately, her attention returned to his eyes, the supposed mirrors of the soul.  <Does he have one or not...?  He's Kindred, like Angel and Sean...  Am I a fool to even wonder...?> 

The mind of an alert, observant predator lurked behind those eyes.  Few young women were lucky enough to boast a grandfather who was at once both so delicious and so dangerous.  For Willow, so much pure power and pure sexuality in one place was mind boggling.  She licked her lips, shifting slightly.  There was absolutely no point to panicking and running; physically she was no match for him. 

"How have you been?"  Guillaume asked, his strange accent making the innocuous question seem diabolic.  His words permitted Willow to focus upon more than his eyes.  Briefly, she inspected her grandfather, taking in his physical proximity and appearance.  He wore a flowing white Renaissance shirt, open at the throat, soft brown suede pants, and knee high leather boots.  He looked like he'd fallen out of another century.  <I guess in a way he has...> 

"Quite well, thank-you," Willow replied politely, still ogling grandpa.  Guillaume was lean and fit, but not overly tall or massive.  He stood far closer to her than was socially appropriate, given their familial relationship.  Vaguely, Willow found herself recalling something about Europeans possessing a smaller personal space than Americans.  <I'll bet that's especially true six hundred years ago...> 

"Are you going to kill me now...?" she heard herself ask inanely.  Willow blinked, not believing what she'd just said.  Meanwhile, she was quelling an urge to run her fingers through his long, pale blond hair.  His hair was lustrous and exceedingly fine, and begged to be touched.  Willow sighed, once again reminding herself that a) this was her grandfather, b) he intended to kill her.  <And c) my brain seems to be malfunctioning...!!> 

Guillaume also blinked.  "Why, no," he replied mildly.  Slowly, his hand drifted out to tenderly stroke her cheek.  He traced the curve of her jaw, absently admiring the pretty gold glow emanating from his granddaughter.  He leaned forward, studying her carefully.  His hand reversed direction, the back gently rubbing lightly over her cheek again.  His lips curved into a soft smile, both at once charming and predatorial.  "That's Angel's job." 

She flinched as if he'd slapped her.  Abruptly, Willow came to her senses.  Anger surged to the forefront of her emotions and she drew herself up with immense pride.  Her eyes lit with defiance, and her jaw set in an unhappy, immobile grimace.  Deliberately, she torched Guillaume's hand.  Gold fire leapt off of her, swatting at his hand like a pesky insect.    Hurriedly, he yanked his singed hand away.  Willow sparked again in warning, sending energy wavering up and down her pattern like an electrical storm.  She sent him a level, defiant look, making it clear that he was in for a fight. 

Quietly, the old one took in the hard edge in the young woman's eyes.  She bore the look of one recently awakened to true evil, still feeling the pain of innocence lost.  Willow's telepathic contact with the Hellmouth had aged her emotionally, if not physically.  Her eyes were older, with the wisdom of one who has gazed upon pure evil and known it intimately.  Inwardly, Willow shuddered at the memory. <The Hellmouth is my true enemy.  I must never lose sight of that.> 

Guillaume grinned suddenly, in acknowledgment and admiration.  Still, he looked unabashedly unafraid of her little light display.  "Where is Beth, Willow?" he murmured, glancing about curiously.  "For that matter, where is Angelus?"  He chuckled, with great amusement.  "I would have expected your protector to be hovering...?" 

Willow stared into those cold, pale blue eyes, somewhat taken aback. In all possible scenarios, she'd never imagined having this conversation with Guillaume.  Indeed, she'd never imagined engaging him in conversation at all.  Abruptly, his questions brought her awareness of those trapped inside the burning building back into sharp focus.  <OH GOD!!  MY PARENTS & GILES, BUFFY & ANGEL...> 

She tore her attention away from Guillaume and back towards the library, trying to find her family and friends.  She found Giles and her parents in a hallway, trapped behind a collapsed section of the building.  Giles was swinging an emergency fire hatchet trying to dig their way out.  Her parents were assisting to the best of their ability by hand.  All three were choking wretchedly on smoke, slowly suffocating.  They were beginning to succumb to the heat rising from the flames.  On the other side of the collapsed debris, Buffy and Angel were digging desperately. 

Willow's shields weakened considerably as she cast her mind outward, dividing her focus.  Guillaume instantly took advantage of the weakness.  He began to push past her shields, intruding on her thoughts.  Luckily for Willow, his intrusion wasn't a brutal attack.  He began as a dark presence infringing unobtrusively at the very edge of her awareness.  In order to make contact with her, he had to lower his own shields and expose his own mind.  For the first time, she was seeing all of him.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, Willow found herself comparing Guillaume to Angel, to Sean, to the Hellmouth.  <He's not pure evil, after all...  Tainted evil... .  Capacity for kindness, affection, honor, even love...> 

Abruptly, Guillaume saw something in her mind he didn't like at all.  His eyes widened and his mouth pulled open in a silent snarl, displaying teeth  "Tell me," he demanded, leaning forward to peer directly into her eyes.  "Where are they?" he grated, his face changing to its demonic form.  He seized her arms roughly, trying to force her to volunteer the information. 

<He cares.  Maybe he'll help.>  Willow didn't answer verbally; she couldn't.  She seemed to lack the mental facilities necessary for speech.  Throwing caution to the winds, she dropped her shields entirely and let him in.  Guillaume didn't hesitate.  Immediately, he reached into Willow's mind, scanning her memories and thoughts deeply.  She passively permitted the deep, penetrating probe.  The probe wasn't painful, but it was excruciatingly personal.  It was a rapid and mutual exchange of information. 

Their minds met with a focused clarity Willow had never imagined possible.  It made all of her past telepathic contacts seem fuzzy and slow in comparison.  Within seconds, she and the elder vampire had exchanged histories, memories, thoughts, feelings.  His mind was ancient beyond her comprehension, highly methodical and analytical, intelligent beyond human capacity, and evil.  Evil not in a pure or entropic way like the Hellmouth, but evil in a selfish, deliberate, and expedient fashion.  Guillaume had complex schemes and machinations going which spanned centuries.  His plans were interwoven like threads in a tapestry and his goals stacked upon one another like dominos.  His was a mind of such intrigue and craftiness that it made Angel and Sean's manipulations look like child's play in comparison. 

Guillaume broke off telepathic contact almost as soon as it began.  He'd found what he was looking for, the location of Beth and Angelus.  Willow reeled with the shock, both from information overload and from the abrupt termination of contact.  Muttering a curse in Old French, Guillaume turned and bounded off towards the burning building.  Willow was left alone again, unable to contribute or assist in any useful fashion.  All she could do was watch, wait, and pray. 

Inside the burning building, Buffy and Angel finally broke through the debris.  Hurriedly, they began clearing away rubble, trying to enlarge the opening.  Willow's parents backed up, to allow Giles the freedom to swing his ax.  Above them, the fire-gutted ceiling began to creak and groan, showing signs of imminent collapse.  Guillaume appeared at the end of the hallway, as the opening became big enough for a person to squeeze through.  Nobly, Giles backed up and indicated for Willow's parents to go first. 

Beth pushed through the small opening first.  Angel and Buffy instantly grasped her arms and lifted her though.  Following on her heels came Willow's father.  The ceiling cracked again.  In fear and panic, Ira threw himself forward, not caring where he landed.  He hit the floor as the ceiling began to give way over Giles.  "GILES!!" Angel screamed, throwing himself into the breech.  In full vampiric mode, he tackled Giles, throwing himself over the librarian.  They hit the ground as the ceiling collapsed, burying them both under a huge pile of debris. 

Buffy became hysterical upon seeing those closest to her buried alive.  She began to scream their names and advanced, intending to dig them out with her bare hands.  Guillaume grabbed her shoulder roughly and spun her around.  "Take them to safety," he commanded, indicating Willow's parents.  In her shaken state of mind, Buffy succumbed to the hypnotic force of his domination when otherwise she would not have.  Glassy eyed, Buffy turned to obey.  She swiftly and efficiently took charge, escorting Beth and Ira to safety. 

Guillaume turned back to the rubble.  Through the link, Willow could sense Angel still alive, somewhere underneath the cement and mortar.  She could barely detect Giles.  Guillaume began to speak, chanting the words to a magickal spell.  Power erupted from him and around him.  The flames in his immediate vicinity began to die down, and then finally out.  Gradually, the debris began to roll itself away from the pile of rubble.  At his command, the spell began to clear the collapsed section of building away. 

Distantly, Willow became aware of the shrill shriek of sirens.  Fire engines and ambulances began to arrive.  Emergency workers piled off of the vehicles and began to take charge.  They located Willow's parents, collapsed from exhaustion, but mostly uninjured.  Paramedics hurried to apply medical attention to them and rushed them off to an ambulance.  Buffy had gone back into the burning building the moment she'd gotten them to safety.  Willow, standing quietly under a tree on the far side  of the building, went unnoticed. 

Buffy managed to fight her way through the flames yet again.  Her lungs were starved for air and her hair, skin, and clothes were blackened with soot.  By the time she managed to reach Guillaume, Angel and Giles' bodies were almost entirely exposed.  For the time being, she seemed content to ignore the fact that she was working with, instead of fighting against, a vampire.  Nimbly, she leapt onto the pile of rubble.  She turned Angel over, pulling him off of Giles.  Guillaume bent and lifted Angel into his arms like a child.  Guillaume's strength was such that Angel's greater mass and weight meant nothing to him.  Buffy hauled Giles over her shoulder, in a fireman's carry, and the unlikely pair began to make their way from the building. 

Infinitely relieved and eager to go to them, Willow began to make her way around the building.  She was heading for the point where she knew that they would exit, near the emergency vehicles.  Unexpectedly, a burning figure appeared out of the flaming inferno.  He stepped forth, cutting off Willow's path.  This winged seraph stood three meters tall and had six wings.  He possessed a horrid and terrible visage and his body seemed to be composed of elemental fire.  At once magnificent and repulsive, Nathanael, Angel of Fire, extended his hands wide in greeting.  "FEAR ME NOT, FOR I AM HERE TO HELP YOU," he boomed. 

"Get in line," Willow muttered under her breath.  <Geez, he's big!!  Gonna have to go around him!!> 

"EXCUSE ME?!" exclaimed the Angel of Fire.  He stepped forward authoritatively.  Behind him, other angels appeared, materializing out of nothingness.  These angels surrounded Willow.  They comprised the heavenly host, which had assembled to bear witness to her worth and witness the final stage of her transformation. 

"I SAID," Willow exclaimed, dodging around Nathanael.  "YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO WAIT."  With this, the Chosen, Immortal Watcher of the Slayer, Guardian of the Ways, and Keeper of the Light, darted past the seraph.  A dismayed murmur rose up from among the angels.  This sort of behavior was unprecedented in all of angelic history. 

"Perhaps she doesn't understand, Liege," one angel suggested to the flabbergasted and indignant Nathanael as they watched Willow run off. 

"Perhaps she has a strange sense of humor," suggested another. 

"After her!" cried the youngest and least mature of the angels.  "Quickly, she's getting away!"  This undignified exclamation earned the exclaimer looks of rebuke and derision, which immediately shamed him into silence.  Nonetheless, the angelic assemblage trailed Willow at a dignified and sedate pace, watching her sprint across the campus towards Guillaume and Angel. 

Guillaume carried Angel past the ambulances, fire trucks and assorted emergency rescue personnel.  No one questioned his passage through their ranks, but rather made way for the elder vampire.  Buffy immediately carried Giles over to one of the ambulances and lowered him to the ground.  Briefly, she turned away from Guillaume to assist the paramedics with lifting the mortally wounded Giles onto a gurney.  When she turned back, Guillaume and Angel were already lost from her sight. 

As Willow approached the vampires, several angels moved forward to intercept them, intending to protect her.  "NO," commanded Nathanael.  "WE MUST NOT INTERFERE.  WHAT EVER HAPPENS TO HER MUST BE OF HER OWN CHOOSING.  IF IT IS HER CHOICE TO RISK HERSELF FOR A DEMON, THEN SO BE IT.  HUMANS POSSESS FREE WILL." 

His words inspired a burst of hostility in Willow that surprised her with its depth and magnitude.  <What a jerk!!  I'm their 'Chosen' and they won't even lift a finger to protect me!!  Angel would die for me and even Guillaume was willing to risk death for the sake of those under his protection...!!> 

Murmuring consent and understanding, Willow's would be defenders stopped.  The youngest and most foolish of the angels, however, took some umbrage at his elder's command.  "What right do you have to be here, Demon?" he demanded, glaring with open hostility at Guillaume. 

Guillaume blinked, momentarily distracted from attending to his charge.  "You dare stand on the Hellmouth and ask me that.?" he asked, absolutely amazed.  Guillaume snickered, very much amused at the angel's foolishness and the wonderful irony of his words. 

Willow bit back angry words.  She had no time or energy to waste on such.  Instead, she thrust the anger to the back of her mind, focusing on more important things for the time being.  As Willow approached them, Guillaume lowered Angel gently to the ground.  She felt her heart sinking as she got her first good look at her lover.  <Angel looks bad...>  She sank to her knees on the ground beside him. 

Instead of providing protection from the 'demons', Nathanael gestured for his angels to form a circle.  They complied, forming a wheel with Willow, Angel and Guillaume at the hub.  Nathanael stepped into the circle, about halfway between the edge and the center.  He spoke the words to activate the circle of protection about them.  The ground glowed white as the holy enchantment took hold, forming an impassable barrier to demon, human, and angel alike. 

Angel was dying.  His body was scorched with second and third degree burns from head to toe.  Psychically, Willow could see the last of his life force ebbing from his pattern.  Without a miracle,  Angel would be gone within minutes.  "Angel..." Willow whispered, trying to call him back to her.  She extended a seeking hand and pressed small, cold fingers to his still, burnt face. His hair, eyebrows, and even his eyelashes were scorched.  <He's burned so bad that I barely recognize him...> 

"Your blood can save him."  Guillaume's words were soft, innocuous.  His voice was eerie, almost an echo of a small voice crying out from the depths of her soul.  Tears streaming down her face, Willow looked up into cold, pale blue eyes.  He held a dagger by the blade, offering her the handle.  The knife was small, utilitarian, and deadly sharp.  It was a knife Willow had seen before.  <Buffy's vision...> 

"WILLOW!!" Buffy screamed, charging the circle.  She'd seen Guillaume offer Willow the knife and was racing to stop her.  Willow looked up upon hearing Buffy shouting her name.  The Slayer ran headfirst into the invisible barrier the angels had erected around Willow.  Buffy nearly brained herself from the impact, almost knocking herself out.  Stunned, she leaned against the barrier and slid to the ground.  Willow was concerned, but also relieved to see Buffy stopped.  <She can't interfere.> 

Willow turned back to Guillaume, reaching for the knife.  "IS HIS LIFE WORTH RISKING YOUR IMMORTALITY FOR?" Nathanael demanded.  Willow understood the implicit meaning of the seraph's question.  If she gave away too much of her blood, she might not have enough power left to complete the transition to immortality.  Her hand closed on the knife, snatching it swiftly away from Guillaume.  She acted out of reflex, as if afraid he might change his mind and withdraw the offer.  Willow yanked the knife from Guillaume's hand so quickly that she sliced his palm open. Blood trickled down his hand, out of his upheld palm and fell to the ground in a tiny river of ebbing life.  <This is it...  Buffy's vision...  This is what it meant...> 

"Yes," Willow replied absently, holding the knife level with her face.  Blood glistened on the blade.  <Blood is the source of life...  For them...>  Swiftly, she reached for Angel, pulling his limp form into her arms.  She settled his back against her chest and his head between her breasts.  Then, she raised her left hand level with her eyes, and the knife blade up with her right.  "He means everything to me," she replied in a stronger voice, with great resolution. 

As Guillaume and Nathanael looked on, before angel and demon alike, Willow drew the blade across her upraised wrist with a quick, efficient stroke.  The knife opened her flesh up like a razor.  Blood poured forth in a stream, eagerly escaping from her wrist.  Her blood pulsed and glowed with the power and magic of immortality.  Swiftly, before any more was wasted than was necessary, Willow lowered her wrist to Angel's mouth.  She pressed the cut to his lips, forcing them open. 

The second blood touched his tongue, instinct took over.  Angel changed and bit, sinking his fangs deep into the delicate flesh of her wrist. The cut, which her remarkable metabolism was already beginning to heal, continued to close.  His protruding fangs opened new, deeper puncture wounds.  Willow gasped in pain and then resolutely cast it aside.  <Nothing matters beyond Angel...  Need to keep him alive or Guillaume's plan will fail...> 

So, she gritted her teeth and forced the link open as Angel began to suck with mindless enthusiasm on her wrist.  His thinking mind was still unconscious; instead, he reacted on blind instinct.  Angel's life pattern was the exact opposite of hers.  Where Willow was a blazing source of energy radiating brightly outward, Angel was a dark vortex that sucked energy in.  His pattern subsisted on other patterns for survival.  It was not his choice, but the way of things. 

Now, Willow recognized that it was not so much the blood that he needed as the life energy.  Blood was merely the vessel of transference. Deliberately, she began channeling her own energy into him through the link, and through the blood he was drinking from her.  Being in mental contact with him hurt far worse than the pain from her own shallow cut had.  Angel suffered from injuries so deep and so severe that he could not remain conscious. 

His hunger was everything, ruling every aspect of his being as he reverted to the basest level of instinct, survival.  Willow sank deeper, joining with him in his singular, determined quest to live.  He stubbornly clung to life with diehard will and sheer cussed obstinacy.  He clung to her wrist and drank, recognizing instinctively that blood meant survival.  Willow held him close and nursed him like a baby. 

She discovered that if she concentrated, she could control the flow of blood from her veins and the rate at which her body healed.  Through some experimentation, she learned to how to replace the blood flowing through her veins at the exact same rate at which he drew it.  <Neatness.!!> 

As Angel began to heal, his body began to glow with gold fire from the magic running through his veins.  Burns disappeared miraculously.  Within minutes, he'd visibly transformed from a severely injured casualty into handsome, healthy Angel again.  Willow sighed with relief as the pain began to lessen.  <That wasn't so bad.  Hurt worse after Tanya attacked me.> 

With the recession of pain came pleasure.  For Angel, her blood was pure glory.  He was experiencing the single most orgasmic experience of his long life.  Her blood was richer than dark chocolate, more addictive than morphine.  Willow sighed and hugged him closer.  A shudder of shared pleasure passed through her body and she let her eyes flutter shut.  Together they drifted, riding a rich, ruby and gold current of ecstasy.  <Oh, purr...  I could get addicted to this...> 

Angel stirred slightly and Willow sensed that he was beginning to wake up.  Mentally, she reached for that shred of consciousness, gently prodding him to wakefulness.  <Time to wake up lazybones...> 

Angel moved again.  <Willow...? Seabhaicín...?>  Confusion was laced through his groggy thoughts.  Gradually, he began to wake up.  With self-awareness came recognition, the return of memory, and the terrible realization that Willow was feeding him.  His eyes popped open and he tore his mouth from her wrist.  "Willow, what the Hell have you done?!"  Angel cried, anguish and fear destroying his clarity.  With brutal strength he seized her wrist above the puncture wounds, cutting off the flow of blood so that no more of the precious vitae could slip away from her. 

"She did what was necessary," Guillaume replied brusquely.  "You should be grateful."  He reached out and wound a white linen handkerchief around Willow's wrist.  The wound was already beginning to heal, but the bandage helped staunch the flow of blood.  With a solid yank, he freed her arm from Angel's punishing grasp.  Angel spun, hissing, and came face to face with Guillaume. 

"You," he snarled, beginning to posture aggressively.  Still somewhat weak and disoriented, Angel more closely resembled a hissing kitten than a great cat.  "Take your goddamn hands off of her.  She's mine!"  He moved to place himself protectively between his elder and his woman.  With a faint smile and a chuckle, Guillaume took in Angel's display with vast amusement.  However, he released Willow's wrist and retreated slightly.  The angels looked on with interest as the little drama of family conflict played itself out. 

"Angelus, mind your manners," Guillaume snapped, not being one to tolerate rudeness for any reason or length of time.  His glare was hard, and had the intended affect.  Angel shut up and began to regain control.  Guillaume carefully kept his distance and seemed content to watch them. 

Angel watched Guillaume intently for a moment.  Briefly, he assessed the angels, and then dismissed them.  Since he didn't perceive them as threats, they were irrelevant.  Once again, the heavenly creatures were reduced in importance to mere witnesses.  Convinced that Guillaume was not moving to interfere and content that the angels did not pose a danger, he turned back to Willow in confusion and fear.  "Why?" he pleaded softly, despair in his voice and tears in his eyes.  Angel looked ready to cry.  His hands caught and cradled the sides of her face, pulling her close.  "I'm going to die anyway once this is over.  Why risk yourself on me?  Why waste your chance to live forever?"  His voice broke. 

"Because I love you, silly," she replied tenderly.  Willow smiled deep into his eyes and reached up to cradle his beloved face in turn.  "You're not going to die,"  she soothed.  "And if I need more power, I can always reverse the flow over the link and take what I need from the tattoo."  Seeing his utter confusion, Willow pressed a light, quick kiss to his brow.  "Your grandfather is sneaky, manipulative, and deceptive."  She chuckled and sent an irate glance towards Guillaume.   Guillaume acknowledged her words with a ready grin and slight bow of his head. 

"What?"  Angel demanded, looking somewhat baffled.  "You're going to be ok?" he murmured, seeking reassurance.  He lovingly pushed her hair back and ran his hands down her back.  Their bodies were plastered together again, as always seemed to the case when they were together.  Willow sighed contentedly and hummed soft reassurance at him again.  The rest of what she'd said hadn't quite sunk into Angel's brain yet.  Gradually though, her words began to make sense.  Abruptly, he turned a suspicious glare towards Guillaume. 

His elder smirked at him.  "I lied," he informed Angel with pure, unadulterated self-satisfaction.  As the truth dawned on him, Angel's jaw dropped.  He sat back down with a thump, looking incredulous.  Guillaume snickered again, enjoying the moment immensely.  He'd waited for a hundred years for this day, in anticipation of this look on Angel's face.  "You had it coming, boy," Guillaume told him smugly.  "Every other word out of your mouth was a lie.  You were practically a pathological liar, and I was getting sick of it.  This was the best way I could think of to straighten you out without destroying you." 

"But what about the Hellmouths?" Angel asked, almost at an utter loss for coherency.  "And I disobeyed you with Juliana." he trailed off,  still seeking clarification before he'd accept what he was being told. 

Guillaume snorted.  "I EXPECTED you to disobey me with that Slayer girl."  His expression made it perfectly clear that he hadn't expected Angel to obey his command at all.  "You NEVER did what you were told," Guillaume informed him with mock sadness.  "Disobedient and contrary to the core."  He shook his head.  "Besides, the last thing I wanted was another Kindred-Slayer to deal with."  His lips sneered.  "They're treacherous and more trouble than they're worth." 

Angel fervently nodded agreement.  He agreed wholeheartedly with his elder's assessment.  Willow blinked, surprised and intrigued. <Another.?!  OOOHHH!!!  Story...!!!  Dratski!  Pesky angels remember...?!  My bad...  Later, no time right now.> 

"If you'd drained me, that would have given him the power that he'll need to close the Hellmouths," Willow interrupted.  "That would have worked for him.  But he'd rather have my assistance when the time comes.  I can act as a power supply and help with the spell.  And he likes the idea of a member of the Family being the Immortal Watcher." 

From Guillaume's mind, she'd seen the coming time when he would attempt to close the Hellmouths, but it was still fifty years off.  He considered the prospect of having the Immortal Watcher and her order helping, instead of hindering, to be highly attractive.  Plus, the potential and innate value of the Immortal Watcher being Family appealed to him even more.  He'd been planning this for centuries.  Waiting another fifty years to close the Hellmouths was inconsequential to him. What seemed a lifetime to Willow was but a moment to Guillaume. 

Angel was still having a hard time buying into this.  "If he wants you alive, then why go along with a plan to kill you?"  Angel demanded, still speaking as if his elder were not present.  Guillaume sighed with mild exasperation and some annoyance. 

"Because," he interrupted, stealing the conversation back.  "I was hoping that eighty years of isolation might straighten you out." Angel's gaze shifted back to Guillaume with speculative skepticism. "Angelus, you were incorrigible.  Your time with Darla had left you callous, cruel, and wholly lacking in compassion."  Guillaume narrowed his eyes for emphasis, his words almost coming in a hiss.  "I had a damn near impossible task of trying to manage you while justifying your continued existence to the Clan elders." 

"He wanted you to suffer," Willow interjected, putting the truth into blunt terms that she knew Angel would accept.  Also, she wanted to head off the possibility of Angel saying something brash and sparking hostility from his elder.  "He knew exactly what not killing humans, and feeding on vampires instead, would do to you when he suggested it.  He also knew what eighty years of isolation while trying to develop a human 'facade' would do to you.  And, he thought it was a great practical joke and excellent revenge for all of the grief you caused him," she finished.  Then, she slapped a hand over her mouth.  <Oops!  I didn't want to say THAT!  Big Mouth!!!> 

Angel's inscrutable gaze shifted from Guillaume to Willow, then back. Willow's explanation made sense to him now that she'd translated Guillaume's 'lesson' into 'punishment'.  Both awaited his reaction with great anticipation.  Willow watched him anxiously; Guillaume with studied casualness.  A moment later, Angel doubled over, roaring with laughter.  Willow nearly collapsed with relief, silently thanking God for Angel's self-deprecating sense of humor.  <If he couldn't laugh at himself, this could have gotten ugly!> 

Guillaume smiled faintly with restrained, but amused humor.  To Willow's surprise, Angel suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up.  She started laughing with him, unable to contain her joy any longer.  Together they spun, celebrating life with youthful zest and a renewed commitment to their love.  <We're BOTH going to live.!!  Oh, Thank You, God...!!!> 

Angel was spinning her in slow circles, preparing to set her down again when Willow experienced a sudden mental shock.  In her mind's eye, she saw the interior of the ambulance transporting Giles to the hospital. Giles was flat lining, his heart stopped dead.  She stopped laughing abruptly and Angel stopped also.  He set her down heavily, aware of the tragedy occurring because of the link.  Willow felt her own heart stop. <Live Giles...!!  Live!!  Fight!  Oh, Dear God, NOT HIM, please...!!> 

Desperately, paramedics applied shock treatment, trying to restart Giles' failing heart.  Once, twice, three times.  Each time, it failed. Willow was aware of the exact moment when Giles' soul left his body, departing.  She began sobbing as the ambulance pulled into the emergency entrance.  Willow keened, wailing her grief, as his gurney was lifted and carried to an ER doctor.   Giles was pronounced dead on arrival. Shocked to the soul, Willow came back into her body.  <NO NO NO NO NO...!!!> 

"GILES!!" she screamed.  His name emerged on an incoherent howl of rage and grief.  Angel wrapped his arms around Willow, confining her movements as he tried to offer comfort.  She fought him desperately, going wild in his arms.  She pounded his chest with her fists, trying to break free.  She wanted to hurt him the way she was hurting.  In a terrible moment of senseless grief, Willow wasn't thinking, merely reacting.  She was raging against life, and Angel provided a convenient outlet.  <NOT FAIR!!  NOT...!!  He was my friend...  He was my mentor...> 

Angel held on, refusing to let her go.  Finally, Willow's strength failed and she collapsed against him.  She cried uncontrollably in Angel's arms while he held and supported her.  The angel assembly looked on with sympathy and pity.  Buffy and Guillaume watched with confusion, not understanding.  Willow shook her head in denial, bashing her forehead Angel's chest.  <Giles is dead, Angel.  Dead...  Gone Forever...>  His hand caught and held the back of her head, immobilizing it.  Weakly, Willow hiccuped against his shoulder. 

"Yes, I know," he confirmed, nearly choking on the words.  His voice was thick with grief.  A single blood red tear spilled over, trickling down his cheek.  "I'm sorry, baby.  He was a good man."   Mentally, Angel reached for her through the link, providing support and protection. It wasn't enough, but it was the best he could offer.    For the time being, it would have to do.  Together they grieved, drawing strength and comfort from one another.  For Willow, it was worse.  Giles had been her mentor and friend.  Angel had respected Giles immensely, but he lacked Willow's emotional attachment to the librarian. 

Willow closed her eyes, letting Angel wrap her in his embrace. She couldn't allow herself the full expression of grief yet, but for a long time she permitted herself the comfort of just being held.  Too soon, Angel was pulling away.  "Someone's waiting for you," he reminded gently.  Willow frowned, confused.  Her mind was clouded with a confusing mixture of distant joy and acute grief.  She'd found out Angel would live, only to have Giles perish on immediately afterwards.  For a moment, her thoughts were muddled.  Then abruptly, reality dawned.  Her eyes widened and her mouth oohed in silent embarrassment and a sense of dread.  <I'm keeping the angels waiting...!!  In fact, I forgot about them completely!!> 

She pulled away from Angel, still flushing.  The angels were milling about, looking extremely bored.  Most of them had strayed somewhat from their assigned post on the protective ring they'd formed around Willow, and most were not even paying much attention to her anymore.  Many were caught up in conversation with their neighbor.  Only Nathanael was still intent and he looked none too pleased.  Cautiously, Willow approached him.  The seraph cleared his throat loudly, recalling the milling heavenly bodies to attention. 

"AH!!  FINALLY!!" he exclaimed.  "PERHAPS YOU HAVE TIME FOR US NOW...?"  It could have been said that perhaps his tone contained veiled sarcasm and that his august dignity was more than mildly offended.  If one could accuse an angel of such.  "IF NOT, WE CAN COME BACK AT A BETTER TIME...?" 

Willow bit her tongue.  She was very tempted to tell this overgrown featherbrain EXACTLY what she thought of him and his brethren.  She was emotionally exhausted, and very much on edge.  It wouldn't take very much to set her off.  Having the seraph mouthing off to her didn't help her temper any.  <After all, it's not like I ASKED for this cursed duty they've decided to dump on me.  To have to live forever in a sixteen year old body, to never have children, to "watch" everyone I know and ever will know age and die...> 

"No, that's quite ok," Willow replied, waving her hand dismissively. "Now is just fine."  Through an act of supreme self-control, Willow kept most of the sarcasm she was feeling out of her voice.  Most, but not all.  Indeed, Willow found that she was feeling uncharacteristically cagey and difficult.  <I'm NOT going to bow down to these birdbrains.  I DON'T  care who they think they are...  They've basically decided to play god and screw with my life and I'm just not too happy right now.  I mean, I'M the one doing them the favor...> 

"I DON'T THINK THAT I LIKE YOUR TONE," the haughty seraph replied. Willow felt her control begin to slip.  Desperately, she tried to shove the impulse to tell off this presumptuous seraph.  <I'm not going to sink to their level...  I have more self-control than that...> 

"And I don't think I like your attitude," Willow replied quietly, steel in her tone.  <Oops!  Well, maybe not!> 

Willow felt her anger mounting like a volcano about to erupt.  Inside, she was boiling with grief and rage.  Berating Nathanael provided a convenient outlet.  Willow pointed an accusing finger at the seraph. "You come down here acting all high and mighty, talking about free will and choices, but what choice was *I* given?  You've messed with my mind, my body, my emotions.  You've stolen my right to choose for myself, a right God granted to all MEN, and dumped upon me a horrendous duty that I didn't ask for or want."  Her voice never rose above speaking tone, but it carried clear and far through the night.  Transfixed the angels stared and listened, in disbelief and mixed emotions ranging from outrage to shame. 

"I wasn't ASKED," Willow continued determinedly.  "And for that matter, neither was SHE."  With a determined thrust of her finger, Willow pointed to the forgotten Buffy.  The Slayer stood quietly at the edge of the circle, still blocked from entry.  Buffy met her eyes and Willow felt tears begin to well up in her throat.  <It's my job to champion Buffy now, to protect her...  I have to carry the torch for Giles...> 

Willow was speaking with such conviction and anger that her voice quavered.  Her eyes filled with tears and a tremor began deep in her chest.  "You've stolen my childhood, just as you've stolen hers!" she declared.  "I can't imagine many sins greater than the theft of innocence, of HOPE.  And what you've done to Buffy is far worse than what you've done to me.  At least, I'll live forever.  How many years does the average Slayer live?" 

By the time she was finished, almost all angelic heads were drooping in shame.  Standing off to the side, Guillaume looked like he was having the time of his life.  Even Angel seemed to be enjoying the show; his enjoyment was still muted by grief.  Through the link, Willow sensed the immense pride he took in her.  His approval and respect were tangible and very real. 

"WHAT SHE DOES IS HER DUTY," Nathanael boomed defensively.  Only the seraph managed to look non-contrite, among all the angels. 

"That doesn't make it right," Willow replied softly.  She turned and walked over to her friend.  Angels parted, stepping hurriedly out of the Chosen's way.  Willow extended a hand to Buffy, inviting her into the circle.  Mentally, she broke down the magical barrier keeping the Slayer out.  Buffy accepted her invitation, looking nervous and out of place, but she allowed Willow to draw her into the center of the circle. Willow turned back to Nathanael.  "Have you ever thanked her?" she demanded.  "She DIED for her duty.  She's ENTITLED to acknowledgment." 

Buffy cleared her throat anxiously.  "Will, really that's all right--" 

"NO," the Archangel of Fire interrupted.  "IT IS NOT 'ALL RIGHT'.  IT SHAMES ME TO ADMIT THIS BUT THE CHILD IS RIGHT."  Slowly, he sank to one knee before Buffy.  The other angels followed suit until all kneeled before her.  "UPON YOU WE BESTOW OUT ETERNAL GRATITUDE AND HUMBLE THANKS FOR NOBLY FULFILLING THE DUTY WHICH HAS BEEN THRUST UPON YOU.  KNOW THIS, YOUR SACRIFICES HAVE NOT BEEN IN VAIN AND HAVE NOT GONE UNNOTICED.  YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE..." 

So the angels offered the Slayer homage, as was just and right.  Long ago, God placed Man above Angel.  Too easily, these creatures forgot that it was Buffy they served, and not the reverse.  Buffy was silent for a moment, obviously taken aback and embarrassed.  "Thanks," she finally managed, sending Willow an 'I'm way-wigged' look.  "Umm, arise," she gestured with her hands.  "Or whatever it is that you angels do." 

The angelic assemblage arose.  For a moment there was an almost awkward silence, before Nathanael finally spoke, addressing Willow.  "WE HAVE COME TO BEAR WITNESS TO YOUR FINAL TRANSFORMATION TO IMMORTALITY, TO YOUR ASSUMPTION OF THE DUTIES OF THE IMMORTAL WATCHER.  SPEAK NOW IF YOU DO NOT WISH THIS RESPONSIBILITY AND I WILL RESTORE YOUR MORTALITY.  THIS IS YOUR CHOICE.  KNOW THIS, HOWEVER,  IF YOU REFUSE, THE SLAYER WILL BE WITHOUT GUIDANCE FOR A MILLENNIUM." 

Willow was momentarily nonplused.  <Talk about a guilt trip.!!  This wasn't exactly what I was expecting.>   She bit her lip and the silence dragged out while she waffled.  For some reason, now that she was suddenly faced with an actual choice in the matter, Willow was at an absolute loss.  "Um, exactly what are the duties again?" she asked hesitantly, trying to buy time.  "And what's the sacrifice required of me?" 

"THEY ARE VERY MUCH ONE AND THE SAME," the seraph replied.  "YOU MUST PROMISE TO ALWAYS MAKE THE SLAYER'S WELL-BEING YOUR UTMOST PRIORITY. HER NEEDS MUST COME BEFORE YOUR OWN.  YOU MUST WATCH OVER HER AND ALWAYS ACT IN HER BEST INTERESTS.  LASTLY, YOU MUST DO THE SAME FOR THE WATCHER ORGANIZATION, FOR THEY WHO WATCH AND SHE WHO SLAYS ARE ALL THAT STANDS BETWEEN LIGHT AND DARKNESS.  DO YOU ACCEPT?  YOU, WILLOW, HAVE ALREADY PROVEN BY YOUR WORDS AND YOUR DEEDS THAT YOU ARE MORE THAN WORTHY." 

Willow turned away debating.  Her questing gaze fell upon Buffy, Angel, and Guillaume.  The threesome had, strangely enough, clustered together, apart from the angels.  Willow harumped, mildly amused that the Slayer apparently preferred the company of vampires to angels.  Her eyes locked with Buffy's.  <Or at least the company of one particular 'angel'.  I'm not sure that she'd be standing over there if it was just her and Guillaume.  In fact, I *know* that she wouldn't be.> 

Willow stopped, surprised to find herself standing before Buffy.  She didn't remember walking over to her.  Buffy smiled at her.  "Do what you want, Will," she told her friend.  "I'll get by with Giles.  He's not so bad for a stuffy old guy."  Horrified, Willow bit her lip.  <Buffy doesn't know.  Giles is dead.  She's alone.  I don't want this...  But how can I say no...?> 

A grief stricken Willow turned to Angel, seeking support.  He smiled slightly and caught her hand in his own.  His eyes were dark, fathomless pools; she could see herself reflected in them, and in his mind.  She was a bright, beloved, mischievous minx.  His lover, his little falcon, and his best friend.  "Angel," Willow whined, pleading with him to tell her what to do. 

Angel chuckled.  "Don't 'Angel' me, Seabhaicín," he told her with good-natured sternness.  "You know what's right."  Willow sighed with exasperation.  <Good ol' Angel.  Always such an adult.> 

For a moment longer, she mulled over her decision carefully.  <I can't refuse...  I owe it to Buffy...  I owe it to Giles...  He would have wanted me to take care of her for him...>  Decision made, Willow turned back to the Seraph.  <Time to do what's right.  Time to grow up...> 

"I accept," Willow informed him.  "I vow to fulfill the Watcher's duties to the very best of my ability."  She swallowed slightly and reached out to catch Buffy's hand with her free one.  Holding Angel's hand with her right, and Buffy's with her left, she drew herself up to her full diminutive height.  The young woman seemed much greater than the physical limitations of stature.  Indeed, she possessed a great soul.  "I'll always put her needs first."  Willow squeezed Buffy's hand and let go of Angel's.  She turned to her friend.  Green eyes met blue. "I promise," she said softly, for Buffy's ears only. 

Buffy's eyes widened, her lips parting slightly.  She looked slightly shocked at the depth of love shining in Willow's eyes for her. Unbidden, Buffy wrapped her arms around Willow.  Over Willow's shoulder, she met Angel's dark, accepting gaze.  Slowly, he began to back up, giving them room.  Willow returned the Slayer's hug and within her embrace felt the last stage of Transformation begin. 

"YOUR PLEDGE IS WITNESSED AND ACCEPTED," the angelic host chorused in unison. 

Willow cried out, feeling her soul quicken.  Gold fire enveloped her, arching down from Heaven and into her soul.  Her form burned until she was naught but an electric form, enveloped in energy.  Buffy supported her when her strength failed.  Willow screamed, crying out against glory too great for human comprehension.  True immortality was bestowed upon her soul, transcending the limitations of the flesh.  She knew infinity, and then she knew blackness. 

The Immortal Watcher collapsed unconscious into her Slayer's arms. Buffy lowered Willow slowly to the ground.  Briefly, she glanced about, surveying her surroundings.  The angels were gone, as if they had never been.  Angel began to go to them, anxious to reach Willow. 

Guillaume grabbed his shoulder roughly, stopping him.  Angel swung back on him, almost snarling.  "Come with me," Guillaume commanded softly. "We need to talk."  When Angel looked ready to refuse, he shook his head warningly.  "This isn't a choice." 

Buffy's head jerked up, fire sparking in her eyes.  "You don't HAVE to go anywhere with him," she drawled, standing up.  "No one's going to make you," she informed both Angel and Guillaume.  Angel looked startled, and Guillaume's eyes widened with both amusement and amazement.  A Slayer defending a vampire ranked right up there with Willow berating an angelic assemblage on his list of incredible events witnessed in one lifetime. 

"I've been real nice and haven't dusted you yet, Pretty Boy," Buffy informed Guillaume.  She settled naturally into a fighting stance.  "But NO ONE messes with my friends."  Buffy's eyes narrowed to aggressive slits and she stepped forward again, carefully assessing her enemy.  She carried herself with pride, defiance, and confidence.  She was at once both magnificent and daunting as an opponent. 

Guillaume raised his eyebrows mockingly and began to smile.  "So, Angelus here is your friend, is he?" he inquired sardonically.  His stance also became innately aggressive, as he prepared to meet Buffy's attack.  Angel finally overcame his surprise.  Hurriedly, he stepped between them, facing Buffy. 

"It's ok," Angel grated, waving her off.  "I'll go with him.  This is something that I need to deal with."  His eyes softened, silently thanking her for her support.  His concern for both Willow and Buffy's safety was such that he'd rather talk to his elder than engage in a fight.  Buffy hesitated a moment longer, before acceding to his wishes and backing down.  Angel turned back to Guillaume.  "Let's go talk," he grated.  Before Angel walked off with his elder, he sent one last wistful look towards his lover. 

Guillaume noticed.  "Your woman will be fine," he said, his voice softening slightly with compassion.  Across the school yard, someone shouted.  Buffy looked away briefly.  When she looked back, Guillaume and Angel had done 'that thing', whereby they disappeared from plain sight.  In the distance, observers huddled in small groups, still in awe of what they had witnessed. 

Out of these crowds, a lone figure emerged, running towards them. Buffy watched quietly, while Xander ran up to her and Willow.  "How can I help?" he asked, dropping to his knees beside them.  "Is she ok?" he asked, touching the face of his childhood friend tenderly. 

"She's ok," Buffy mumbled, still shell-shocked.  "Help me get her home," she told him.  Together, they lifted Willow's limp form and started for home.  Three friends, together once again. 

"That was one heck of a light show," Xander could be heard to comment as they passed by the observers.  Willow began to stir slightly, finally recovering consciousness. 

"Tell me about it," mumbled the weary Slayer, leaning over to check her friend. 

"The tadpoles are coming!" the groggy and disoriented Immortal Watcher informed her Slayer.  Sadly, her dire warning proved a source of grand amusement for her friends.  They laughed and humored Willow, offering platitudes.  Some warnings simply aren't heeded until it's too late.