Friendship

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

<Seabhaicín...> 

Willow awakened abruptly with the preternatural certainty that Angel was near.  After Buffy and Xander brought her home, Willow's parents had tucked her into bed just like when she was a little girl.  She had immediately succumbed to an exhausted, dreamless sleep.  Now, three hours later, her lover's proximity brought her from sound sleep to full wakefulness.  She rose from her bed and padded quietly through her pitch black room towards her balcony.  There, a shadowy figure lurked, patiently waiting for her.  Willow quickly unlocked her balcony door and pushed it open. <Come in...> 

Without words, her shadow lover stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.  He opened his arms to her and she came to him.  She wrapped her arms about his waist, sinking her face into the soft material of his shirt.  Willow turned her face to the side, resting her cheek against his chest.  A tear seeped down her cheek. 

Deep down, she could almost believe this to be nothing more than a dream.  She felt exhausted.  Her emotions were still raw with grief, shock, and anger over Giles' passing.  To top that off, she felt scared to death with what she was about to do to Angel, and herself.  Angel, who needed love so desperately...  <He won't understand...> 

"I already know," he whispered, his voice hoarse.  "I've known since you let go of my hand," he croaked, sounding close to tears.  Angel pulled her more tightly against him and Willow felt more tears seep free.  Despite her resolve, she began to cry.  Her slender body shook with muffled sobs while he held her.  "I do understand," he told her.  "And I don't like it.  But it's your right to choose.  I told you once before that you were always free to leave, that our love isn't a prison." 

"You still love her," Willow reminded him, nearly incoherent.  As if that was somehow an acceptable excuse for what she was doing to him, to herself.  Angel shook his head no; one had nothing to do with the other. 

"That has nothing to do with this," Angel said, his voice suddenly becoming firm.  Abruptly, he seized her by the shoulders and stepped back.  "You can't give me back to her," he hissed.  "I'm not a borrowed book.  I won't be used like that." 

Willow was shocked.  Her eyes and mouth widened and she stared up at him, speechless.  "I-I-I..." she stuttered.  "I never thought that," she whispered, aghast.  "I love you.  I respect and admire you.  How could you even think that...?" she whimpered. 

"Then what are you suggesting?" Angel practically snarled, leaning over her like an ominous black cloud.  "She and I barely know each other.  Even when we were 'together', we weren't." 

Willow hardened her soul to the raw pain in his voice.  He was only being vicious because she'd wounded him.  "I don't know what I'm suggesting," she managed weakly.  "But I do know this, she needs you and you need her.  She loves you and you love her." 

"What about us?" he demanded brusquely, obviously in pain.  "Don't we mean anything to you anymore?"  His words cut Willow deeply.  She whimpered again.  She'd never imagined anything could be this painful or this difficult. 

"You mean everything to me," Willow whispered.  She closed her eyes and drew upon every reserve of strength which she possessed.  "But I made a promise to put her needs first."  She opened her eyes and looked up at his shadowy figure looming over her.  "Besides, you know damn well that the guilt would destroy both of us if we left her alone and she died," she hissed. 

Angel gnashed his teeth together, his only reply.  There was no counter argument for that truth.  He turned away from her, not wanting to hear any more.  "My parents are taking me to Boston," Willow stated quietly, pursuing him.  Her hands found his back.  She pressed both of her palms to his sides.  "It will be ten years minimum before I complete my training.  I could probably override the Watcher rules and stay.  But it wouldn't be fair to Buffy to stick her with an inexperienced Watcher." 

When he made no further move to evade her touch, Willow drew closer to him.  Tenderly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her breasts against his back.  Her cheek came to rest against his shoulder blade.  "Go back to her, Angel.  Watch over her.  Love her.  She needs you."  Willow didn't want to, but she resorted to her most powerful weapon.  "You and I are going to live forever, beloved.  Buffy only has this lifetime." 

Angel exhaled harshly.  The labored sound spoke volumes, coming from one who did not breathe.  "It can't work," he denied, falling back on his simplest and oldest argument.  "She's the Slayer.  I'm a vampire."  His voice was flat and lacked conviction.  Willow found herself wondering if he was simply too tired to muster real passion or if he no longer truly believed that tired old excuse. 

"That's an excuse and you know it," Willow murmured.  "I'm the Immortal Watcher and you're a vampire.  What we are is irrelevant."  She shook her head slightly and reached around to touch a hand to his heart.  "It's who we are in here that counts." 

"And what exactly am I supposed to tell her?" Angel demanded sarcastically.  "Even presuming for a moment that I were willing, Buffy wouldn't have me back like this.  She'll think that you sent me to her out of pity or duty, and she'd be right." 

"That's not true!" she refuted sharply.  Then she stopped, forcing herself to be completely honest.  "I can't deny that duty plays some small part," she conceded.  "But it's not about pity!" she exclaimed, emotionally rejecting the ugly word.  "This is about friendship and love.  If you need something to tell her then say that we've decided to be just friends.  I can't give you any more than that during this lifetime anyway.  I have duties to perform, things to learn, commitments..." she trailed off, tears spilling freely down her cheeks.  The back of Angel's shirt was developing a huge wet spot. 

"That's a lie," Angel grated. 

Willow felt her temper snap.  "Then lie to her," she snarled, drawing back from him.  "It's what you're good at!" she snapped, losing control.  He whirled, growling softly, and she instantly regretted the mean words.  A tight, painful silence hung in the air, stretching the distance between them.  The hurt in the room was palpable and it tightened their link like an overstrained fishing line. 

Suddenly, Angel sighed.  "That was low," he muttered.  "But then, I suppose that I'm the one who taught you to fight dirty."  He forced a chuckle and the tone of his voice told her that he'd let it pass already.  Relief flooded through her, lifting a huge emotional burden off of her shoulders.  Willow had been scared senseless that he'd wind up hating her.  Angel grimaced dramatically.  "I guess I deserved it."  His attitude was both mocking and semi-sarcastic.  He was still deeply hurt, but in typical Angel fashion, he was dealing with it. 

"The truth is harsh,"  Willow teased.  She offered him a gentle smile to soften her words.  Now more than ever, they needed to hold onto their decency, humor, and good-will for one another.  She was certain that their friendship, and their love could survive this separation.  <We just need to keep our faith in one another and our commitment to what we share...> 

"I don't want to lose you," Angel whispered softly.  "A lifetime is a long time.  People change.  You might not want me back."  He shook his head sadly.  "And this isn't going to work.  You can send me away and I'll go because I respect your wishes, but you can't make Buffy and I love each other." 

Willow smiled faintly.  The moment was so bittersweet.  She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that no one needed to "make" Buffy and Angel love each other.  <They're both completely and utterly in love with each other.  Nothing will ever change that...  Angel needs to resolve his feelings for Buffy before he and I can be together without guilt.  He 
needs to be free to love only me before we can ever be together.  Otherwise, I'll always wonder...  I'll always feel guilty.  And I'll always feel like second best...> 

However, she didn't want him to suffer, which was what was happening.  Determined to offer reassurance, Willow stepped forward and took his hands.  "I'll always want you, husband," she vowed, offering him the only words she knew that he might believe.  Angel emitted a soft sound, akin to a whimper.  It was the first time she'd ever called him husband aloud, and now the word stung bitterly. 

Willow cringed.  She hadn't meant to hurt him further.  Deliberately, she dropped all of her shields, projecting all of the love she felt for him into his mind.  Her love was unconditional and infinite.  Against his will, Angel was drawn towards the promise of unqualified love and absolute acceptance.  It was the fulfillment of everything that he craved and desired. 

Unexpectedly, Angel seized Willow, dragging her into his arms.  His mouth took hers with bruising strength and a barely constrained passion which threatened to overwhelm him.  She moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck.  Her slim figure was supplicant to his strong one.  Her own body betrayed her, begging for his attention.  One kiss and she was willing to barter her soul for his favors.  Her hands touched the sides of his face and it was with horror that she realized that he was crying. 

Abruptly, Angel let her go.  Willow reeled back out of his arms, nearly losing her balance.  "Let me know when you come to your senses," he grated harshly.  He whirled and yanked open the balcony door, wanting nothing more than to escape.  Cold air blew into the warm room, billowing the curtain. 

Angel stopped, remembering something.  He reached into his back pocket and yanked out a small address book.  "Guillaume wanted you to have this," he said, tossing it casually onto her dresser.  "It contains his phone number and those of most of the Watcher Council in Boston and London."  With the library and all of the Watcher material it had contained burned to the ground, Willow would need this information.  Angel hesitated, listening to the silence pervading the room.  Only the sound of her labored breathing could be heard. 

Willow opened her mouth to speak.  In the moment it took her to orient her thoughts, Angel left.  Within a heartbeat he bounded off of her balcony, and jumped down to the ground.  Willow cried out much like a mother deprived of her child and rushed after him.  Her balcony was empty; Angel was nowhere in sight.  He was gone from her every sense, including the link. 

She stood outside for a long time until the chilly air drove her shivering, despondent form back into bed.  Willow curled up under the covers and cried herself back to sleep.  A week ago, she'd never thought she'd be choosing duty over Angel.  However, she'd taken a vow and made a promise.  Now duty and honor came first; Buffy's happiness and well-being came first.  Deep down, she knew that her decision was the right one.  She just needed to keep telling herself that, over and over.  <For me, for Buffy, and for Angel...> 

Wednesday, September 10, 1997 

Fall is a time of death, a changing of the seasons, and a prelude to winter.  Those who loved Giles buried him in the fall.  No friends or family stepped forward to claim his body, so Ms. Calendar saw to the funeral arrangements.  She chose a plot in the Sunnydale Cemetery where he and Buffy had patrolled so often. Services were held in the early evening, as a courtesy to Angel. 

Willow wore black and attended the church service in the company of her perplexed parents.  Two days before, they had received her announcement of her breakup with Angel with both shock and regret.  They'd both liked him a great deal and had been pleased to see Willow do so well for herself.  When pressed for an explanation, Willow had refused to speak on the subject with stubborn determination until they had relented. 

Naturally, Buffy and Xander also attended.  Buffy seemed withdrawn, almost numb with grief.  Xander was solemn, having the sense not to disturb the sanctity of Giles' funeral with ill-timed or forced humor.  Remarkably, even Cordelia saw fit to attend, muttering defensively that she'd 'liked' Giles when pressed by Xander.  Strangely, a mysterious man who'd introduced himself as 'Ethan Rayne' was also present for a very short time.  Willow had turned away from him for only a moment and he disappeared. 

During the church service, Ms. Calendar sat alone, looking grief stricken and shocked.  Jenny, of them all, had loved Giles the most.  This love was unrealized and had never reached its fullest potential,  but it was great nonetheless.  To Willow, Ms. Calendar seemed almost a  widow.  She found herself empathizing with the lovely computer teacher.  She too felt like a widow.  <Or maybe a nun...  I almost feel like I've  married Buffy in some bizarre spiritual sense...> 

That thought struck her as way too weird for consideration.  Willow  shook it off.  Hastily, she turned her thoughts back to Buffy and  Angel.   Buffy sat one row back, next to Xander.  Willow's preternatural  senses then strayed to Angel, who sat alone in the very last row.  <Damn...  I was hoping that he'd sit with Buffy...>  She shook her head  regretfully and returned her attention to the services. 

Willow made a point of riding over to the cemetery with Ms. Calendar.  Her parents accompanied them, but were mostly quiet.  They were courteous and tried to offer sympathy, but this was not their loss.  The  limo ride was short.  With a heavy heart, Willow stepped out first, and turned to assist Ms. Calendar.  When she turned back, she ran right into Angel.  She slammed into his chest hard, and his hands caught her  shoulders. 

Stricken, Willow felt her head yank upwards.  Their eyes met and her  heart stopped beating.  He stared down at her with dark, inscrutable  eyes.  She felt as if his gaze were probing her soul, even though the  link was dormant.  So many mental barriers were up between them that  Willow could not sense even the most basic of his emotions.  It felt  unnatural.  <No one to blame but myself...  I thought that I could give him up and then have him back and that's not the case...  There's no  guarantee that our love will survive the passage of time...  We both  might change too much...  So in giving him up, I'm probably giving him  up forever...> 

She swallowed and wet her lips with her tongue.  Behind her, Ms. Calendar waited patiently for Willow and Angel to move.  Angel stepped out of her way, breaking eye contact.  He looked past her to Ms. Calendar.  "I'm sorry for your loss," he murmured, trying to offer condolence.  Words were inadequate, but he tried anyway.  There was a 
degree of self-condemnation haunting his eyes.  "If I'd been faster--" 

"You almost died, Angel," Jenny cut him off.  "Don't apologize for something you couldn't help."  She took the hand Angel had extended unconsciously.  He looked shocked when she squeezed his hand briefly between both of hers, before letting go.  Jenny walked past him, and Willow hurried to follow.  She could feel Angel's eyes boring into her back as she retreated.  <I'm such a coward...> 

The service was gloomy and its participants seemed to lack hope.  Jenny and Buffy both spoke on Giles' behalf, speaking of personal loss, regrets, and memories.  Willow attended in a daze, barely able to focus on what was being said.  She felt as if she were in a dreamlike stupor. Suddenly, it was her turn to speak.  Disoriented, Willow jerked her mind back to reality and stepped forward.  Briefly, she skimmed the mourners, her gaze pausing on each of her friends in turn.  Angel refused to meet her eyes.  Ultimately, her eyes locked with Buffy's. 

Willow cleared her throat.  "While I was surfing the net, trying to find something appropriate to say, I came across a poem by Dylan Thomas."  Gingerly, she reached into her front pocket and extracted the folded printout.  "It seems to me that this embodies the essence of Giles," she stated, unfolding the piece of paper.  "It speaks to me of his great courage, his innate goodness, and his determination to make a difference in the world."  She cleared her throat again, and began to read. 

        Do Not Go Gentle Into That Goodnight 

        Do not go gentle into that goodnight. 
        Old age should burn and rave at close of day; 
        Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

        Wise men, who at their end know dark is right, 
        Because their words had forked no lightning they 
        Do not go gentle into that goodnight. 

        Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright 
        Their frail deeds might have danced in the fragile day 
        Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

        Wild men, who caught and sang the Sun in flight 
        And learned too late they grieved it on its way, 
        Do not go gentle into that goodnight. 
        Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight, 
        Blind eyes should blaze like meteors and be gay, 
        Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

        And you, my father, there on the sad height, 
        Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. 
        Do not go gentle into that goodnight. 
        Rage, rage against the dying of the light! 

Willow stopped speaking and gently folded the poem away, fighting for composure.  Jenny and Buffy were crying again, Xander looked misty eyed, and even her parents were sniffling.  Only Angel remained resolutely dry-eyed.  He was looking directly at her and Willow had to tear her gaze from his.  Those unsettling dark eyes saw deeper into her soul than she could bear. 

"Giles is only gone from us physically," Willow said, forcing herself to speak loud enough for her voice to carry.  "His soul is still with us and we can't let his death have been in vain."  Her voice deepened with conviction and an emotional maturity far beyond her years.  "We need to keep Giles with us in memory and through our deeds.  Like the words in this poem, I refuse to let Giles go gentle into that goodnight.  I'm going to rage, rage against the dying of the light!" 

Willow's voice had risen steadily in volume as she spoke.  The power in her voice had drawn every pair of eyes to her in an almost trance-like state of amazement.  Power radiated off of her in waves, drawing them in, lifting their spirits and renewing hope.  Willow was a blessed source of life, light, and love.  Unbeknownst to her, she glowed a faint, glimmering gold, if only for a moment.  In her heart, she made Giles a promise.  <I'm going to close the Hellmouths if it's the last thing that I ever do...  You fought for goodness and I swear that no matter where I go in life, or what I do, I'll take your fight with me...> 

Willow was the last scheduled speaker.  The service ended and Giles' dark brown wood coffin was slowly lowered into the ground.  Each of his friends took a turn dropping a shovel full of dirt into his grave.  Afterwards, the gathering dispersed.  People milled about, speaking quietly amongst themselves.  Willow exhaled, unable and unwilling to believe that it was finally over.  <Need to talk to Angel before he disappears...> 

She turned, rapidly scanning the crowd.  She finally spotted Angel, walking quietly off alone through the cemetery.  He was heading away from everyone else.  Willow broke into a run, sprinting after him.  She knew that she'd never catch him if decided to disappear.  "ANGEL!!" she cried, shouting his name.  He froze in his tracks.  His stance stiffened with uncertainty and for a moment she thought that he might bolt.  He didn't.  Instead, he turned and watched her approach warily.  They were back to the shy, elusive Angel of one week past. 

Willow slowed to a trot, and then a walk as she drew near.  He looked utterly gorgeous and uncharacteristically classy in an expensive, dark suit.  If she hadn't known better she would have sworn up and down that he was Sean.  "Yeah?" he demanded roughly.  His manner lacked familiarity, or even friendliness.  Willow knew him well enough to see the guarded hope in his eyes.  It broke her heart that she couldn't tell him what he wanted to hear. 

"Umm.  I was wondering if you'd be willing to write down a short account of what happened last week, from your perspective?  Like a journal.?" Willow rushed the words together, practically tripping over them.  She winced when the hope died in his dark eyes.  "I wouldn't ask but the Council asked to me to ask you."  she trailed off awkwardly.  Willow dropped her eyes, unable to watch the bleak despair filling his expression.  She shuffled her feet nervously on the grass, awaiting his response. 

"Fine," he replied shortly.  Then silence.  Willow glanced up quickly, but Angel was already gone. 

Willow and Buffy spent late Friday afternoon studying math.  Buffy was having difficulty passing geometry.  Willow deemed it entirely within the scope of her duties as Immortal Watcher--and as Buffy's friend--to tutor the Slayer.  <I just hope Buffy and Xander will be able to pass their classes once I'm gone...> 

Lately, Willow had found herself with far too much free time.  Ever since Principle Snyder had expelled her for being kidnapped, she'd had loads of it.  Of course, her expulsion could have been appealed.  Being kidnapped was not a legitimate excuse for expulsion.  Ironically, Sean had offered to send some of his boys down to have a 'talk' with Principal Snyder.  He'd wanted to make amends.  Willow hastily and politely declined. 

Willow's parents saw no reason to go to the trouble when they were arranging to leave town as quickly and as efficiently as possible.  They'd already arranged to buy a house, sight unseen, in the Boston metropolitan area.  Beth and Ira had also both accepted lucrative job offers arranged for them by Guillaume.  They were leaving their house in the capable hands of Sunnydale Realty, and the movers were due to arrive in less than two weeks.  Overall, the move and other changes were occurring far too rapidly for Willow's tastes. 

Willow was explaining an equation to Buffy when the phone rang around 5:00PM.  The girls were in Buffy's bedroom, so naturally Buffy answered the phone.  "Hello?" she said.  A surprised pause followed, during which the Slayer's eyes widened considerably.  Willow looked up and noticed Buffy's puzzled expression. 

"Who is it?" she mouthed.  Buffy shook her head no and held up a finger to wait. 

"Uh, yeah sure," Buffy mumbled.  "Let me ask."  She covered the phone's speaker with her left hand and sent Willow a wiggy look.  "It's Angel," she supplied.  "He wants to know if you prefer a straight factual account or one with his personal observations?" 

Willow blinked.  "Personal observations," she responded promptly, without taking the time to think.  Buffy relayed the message, while Willow floundered mentally.  <How did he know I was here.?!>  "Um, let me talk to him," she finally blurted out.  She reached for the phone, but Buffy was already hanging up. 

"Sorry," she apologized to Willow, shrugging slightly.  "He didn't want to talk."  She set the phone back down, silently taking in the fallen expression on Willow's face.  "He's in Cryptic Guy mode again," Buffy assessed, being extremely familiar with Angel's moods.  "What's up with you two?" she asked cautiously.  "I thought that you were together?"  Buffy tested the waters carefully, not wanting to step on any sore spots, but dying of curiosity.  She'd noticed Angel and Willow's separation over the last several days, but still didn't know exactly what was going on. 

Willow sighed softly.  Quickly, she decided that it was time to tell Buffy.  She couldn't keep her friend in the dark forever.  "Angel and I broke up," she said softly.  Buffy's expression was dismayed, and for a split second hopeful, before she quickly hid that unworthy emotion away from sight.  <Except that I know her far too well to believe that she doesn't care, even for a second.> 

"Angel doesn't know this, but the angels wouldn't let us stay together," Willow lied.  She'd thought about this long and hard and finally chosen this as the most acceptable excuse to give Buffy.  It left her friend free and clear of guilt to pursue a relationship with Angel.  "It was one of the conditions of my new duties.  I didn't tell him because I didn't want to make him feel bad, 'cause he's so sensitive about the vampire thing.  I told him instead that we couldn't be together because of you." 

Buffy's lips parted with shock.  "I'm sorry," Willow rushed to apologize.  She took her friend's hand.  "Please don't be mad.  I know that I shouldn't be using you as an excuse or lying to Angel, but you're a reason that he can understand and accept."  She noticed Buffy regarding her with thinly veiled suspicion.  Buffy had been present during Willow's ascension; she hadn't overheard any such condition. 

"If we're going to meet Xander at the Bronze tonight, we'd better start getting ready,"  Willow commented, suddenly changing the subject.  She hastily closed her text book, flipping it shut harder than circumstance warranted.  Buffy watched with sharp, observant eyes, but Willow refused to compound her deception with more lies.  She already felt guilty enough as it was.  <I just hope that she'll assume that the condition was told to me telepathically...  That's the only way that Angel wouldn't be aware of it either...> 

"Sure," Buffy replied, still watching Willow.  It was readily apparent from the Slayer's expression that she knew she was being lied to.  Willow winced.  Deep down, she knew that her attempt at deception was weak, almost transparent.  She lacked Angel's gift for twisting the truth to her own advantage, and Sean's talent for manipulation.  She could only pray that Buffy wouldn't comment or ask questions.  <That she'll accept this as a gift and not be angry with me...  That she won't reject Angel based on principle...> 

"Can I borrow that red velvet slip dress and some makeup?" Willow asked suddenly, deciding that clothes and makeup might be just the thing to distract Buffy.  Buffy's eyes widened considerably.  Her red dress was sexy and daring, to say the least.  Not the sort of attire Willow normally chose for herself.  <But that was pre-confident Willow...!!  Before I found that I'm sexy...!!  *smirk*> 

"I think that I'd like Xander to get a really good look at what he passed up," Willow elaborated, explaining her request.  Her grin was cocky, self-assured, and very un-Willowy.  Buffy was still blinking; she had not  fully absorbed the new and improved Willow yet.  Confident Willow still took her by surprise.  Willow stretched absently, luxuriating in the lazy pleasure of the motion.  <Ah, Buffy...  If only you knew...> 

Willow's secret little smile was just too funny.  Their eyes locked and both girls began to giggle.  "I think that can be arranged," Buffy replied, picturing Xander's face.  She bounced up off the bed, beginning to get into the spirit.  "I have the perfect shoes to go with it!" she exclaimed, yanking open the closet. 

Monday, September 22, 1997 

Willow sat at her laptop, working on-line.  Her room was filled with packed moving boxes.  She and her family were leaving for Boston in only three more days.  The entire packing process had been an ordeal for Willow.  As her worldly possessions disappeared into boxes, she'd felt like her childhood went with them.  Her computer, some Watcher related paperwork, and an open suitcase containing some clothes were all that remained unpacked.  <It's like I've put away my old life and started over...> 

A void filled her heart and her life where Angel had been.  A week ago, there'd been no such void.  Now, she struggled every minute of every day to set thoughts of him aside.  Their separation made it harder to let him go than his death would have.  Death was final, but Angel still lived.  Willow watched herself like a hawk, lest she 'accidentally' reached for him through the link.  <If I reach for him, he'll be there...  And I'll have failed my duty and Buffy...> 

Abruptly, a large sheaf of bound papers landed with a solid *thunk* on the desk beside Willow.  She jumped, startled.  Then, she spun to find Angel standing directly behind her.  She had not heard him enter her room or felt his presence nearby at all until he announced himself.  <?!> 

Angel was distant and withdrawn, looking for all the world like an utter stranger.  Willow sighed forlornly, with terrible regret.  She hated that it had come to this between them.  Her eyes turned back to the papers he had brought her, and comprehension dawned as she finally realized what this must be.  "Is it done?"  she asked softly, picking up the manuscript.  It was huge, close to a hundred pages.  <Geez, I was expecting maybe twenty or thirty pages, max.> 

"Nope," Angel replied with a nonchalant shrug.  "That's the first three chapters."  Willow glanced back at him, unsettled by his cavalier tone.  He offered her a cryptic smile, practically smirking.  Puzzled, Willow turned her attention back to the manuscript wondering why he was feeling so smug.  Absently, she flipped open the manuscript.  <He's acting like the cat that swallowed the--!!!> 

Abruptly, her eyes settled on the first page and she experienced an incredible surge of annoyance and dismay.  The entire document was hand-written in Gaelic.    "Angel!"  she exclaimed with aggravation.  "How is my computer supposed to interpret this.?!"  She'd been planning to scan his account, and then use optical character recognition software on it in order to enter it into the computer.  <That will never work now...!!> 

Angel shrugged philosophically, still smirking.  "Not my problem," he replied with a Cheshire Cat grin.  "Maybe you should have been more specific about what you wanted."  Shaking her head in disbelief, Willow continued to turn the pages.  <I CAN'T BELIEVE that he did this.  It's almost.  No, IT IS petty.> 

Petty was an understatement.  This would require months of translation time.  Plus, Willow didn't even know Gaelic.  She sighed arduously.  She also knew that being petty wasn't like Angel at all.  Willow could only take this as a glaring indication of how much he must be hurting and she really couldn't blame him for being vindictive.  <I've hurt him terribly...>  Willow looked up, intending to thank him.  Her bedroom was empty; Angel was already gone. 

Thursday, September 25, 1997  12:05AM 

That evening, Willow went vampire hunting alone.  She armed herself with a stake for security and a cell phone, in case an emergency developed.  Then she bundled herself up in warm clothes and put on Angel's leather jacket.  She crept out of the house just after midnight.  She opened the link and used it to track her prey.  It wasn't difficult, he did not try to evade her search at all.  Willow found Angel alone in  the graveyard, lurking near the pyramid tombstone.  <Hunting, no doubt...> 

Willow made no attempt to sneak up on him.  That probably wasn't even possible anyway.  Angel must have already been aware that she was coming to him.  He could not have missed the activation of the link.  She'd considered going by his apartment, but didn't feel right about invading his home uninvited.  She'd finally chosen this as the best option.  Here she could approach him on his own turf. 

Angel stepped out of the shadows to greet her.  He didn't speak.  "I need a favor," Willow stated bluntly, coming right to the point. 

"Name it," Angel replied brusquely.  "And it's done," he promised, adopting a short, business-like manner.  His concise efficiency made Willow feel like she was hiring an assassin or trying to buy drugs.  <Geez!!  You'd think that--!!  Hey!!  He just agreed without even asking why or what...!!!> 

"But--!!"  Willow blinked, stunned.  "Don't you even want to know what it is before you agree...?" she asked, her voice faint.  She trailed off awkwardly.  She'd been expecting resistance and had organized a huge number of logical and persuasive arguments to convince him.  He'd just thrown a major monkey wrench into her orderly thought patterns.  <This should have been more difficult!!  ESPECIALLY after the Gaelic Incident...> 

"There's nothing that I wouldn't do for you," Angel supplied defiantly, his chin tilting at a stubborn arrogant angle.  Then, his armor cracked briefly and his mask dropped.  For a moment his eyes held painful honesty and heart-rending vulnerability.  He met her gaze, his nonchalant facade suddenly gone.  "Anything, Willow.  Ask.  I owe you everything." 

The guilt which assailed her was terrible.  <He sacrifices for me and I hurt him.  He loves me and I'm about to use that against him...>  Willow squeezed her eyes shut tight, fighting back tears.  She hurt, he hurt.  <But there's no getting past this...>  So she opened her eyes and blurted it out, telling him exactly what she wanted.  Her request was impossible and crazy. 

Angel stared at her for what seemed forever.  She'd hit a rich vein of disbelief and astonishment.  "You're nuts," he finally stated, delivering his assessment of her mental state with aplomb.  "It would never work," he said, gesturing dismissively.  "For one thing, I'm a vampire," he enunciated each word carefully, as if telling her something that she didn't already know.  It was a classic case of overstating the obvious.  "For another, I'm not qual--" 

"You're qualified," Willow interrupted, cutting him off mid-sentence.  "Don't lie to me," she warned him sharply.  "I know the truth."  She didn't mean to sound harsh, but she did anyway.  Angel's eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together unhappily. 

"You've been poking around in my past," he guessed, staring at her accusingly. 

"No." Willow shook her head.  "Sean volunteered everything that I needed to know." 

"I'm going to wring his neck," Angel muttered darkly, silently cursing his brother's big mouth. 

"No," Willow denied.  "You're not," she told him.  Her eyes hardened and her voice turned to steel.  "I promised him amnesty for spilling the beans."  At his sullen silence, she continued.  "Guillaume's already agreed," she informed him bluntly.  Angel blinked, his head jerking forward inquisitively.  His eyebrows lifted over blinking eyes.  Willow felt herself beginning to smirk.  "He was rolling with laughter.  He consented before I was even done explaining," she informed him, feeling immensely pleased with herself. 

"But the Council," Angel protested, throwing out another objection. 

"Already dealt with," Willow stated, with grim satisfaction.  Her Watcher Council had put up a good fight but she'd overridden every objection.  She'd bulldozed every Watcher who'd dared stand in her way. The Immortal Watcher was on the warpath; dissenters had better watch out.  "I need you to agree and it's official," she added, deliberately softening her voice.  She subconsciously developed a pleading manner and tone that she knew her ex-lover couldn't resist.  <Please, please, say yes...> 

Angel practically snarled with frustration.  Willow was using her cutest munchkin eyes on him, twisting his heart strings.  She was fighting dirty and it wasn't fair.  He tore his eyes away from her and paced, his hands behind his back.  Then he whirled and paced back. Finally, he threw out his final and most serious objection.  "She'll never agree," he stated flatly, gesturing with adamant hands.  With the most level of looks, he challenged her to counter THAT. 

"Maybe not," she agreed.  "But that's my problem, not yours."  Willow cocked her head, meeting his challenge with confidence.  "Now are you going to do this for me or not?" she demanded.  <Fingers crossed...> 

Angel exhaled mightily with exasperation.  This was ridiculous, but he'd promised Willow anything.  Soon enough, she would find out for herself why this would never fly.   "Fine."  He threw his hands up in defeat.  "But don't say that I didn't warn you," he added, unable to resist an 'I told you so' in advance. 

"Good.  It's official."  Willow smiled smugly, barely able to contain her mirth.  She bounced gleefully on the balls of her feet, almost ready to dance for joy.  She'd just accomplished a major coup.  "Come with me," she ordered, turning to walk off.  "I'll tell you everything that you'll need to know."  She didn't look back to see if he would follow her.  Angel sighed, obediently falling into step behind her. 

Several tense hours later, Angel had everything he needed.  Willow watched him silently gather up the material that she'd given him, folding it into a neat little pile.  His efficiency reminded her of how he dealt with dark or unpleasant emotions.  Box and squish.  <Box love, squish love...  Good bye love...> 

Angel had been unfailingly, painstakingly polite to Willow for the last several hours.  He was driving her nuts.  He turned to leave, heading for the balcony door of her bedroom.  She swallowed past the lump in her throat and swallowed her pride.  <This is my last chance to say good bye.> 

"Angel," she croaked, his name coming out as a hoarse plea.  He froze in his tracks, his hand on the doorknob.  "I love you," Willow whispered.  "I hope someday that you'll forgive me." 

He turned back to her with tears in his eyes.  He opened his arms and she flew into them.  He bodily caught her out of the air.  "I love you too, Seabhaicín," he murmured.  The link flared open between them for the last time.  Angel wrapped his essence around hers for the last time.  For a moment, they were one again.  One heart, one mind, one soul.  <Forgiveness will never be an issue between us.> 

Willow gasped in shock at the difference she perceived in him.  His demon was subdued, freeing him from the rage and hatred which it continuously subjected him to.  The gulf he had bridged between humanity and evil was insurmountable, but somehow he had succeeded.  <Sean's rituals.?!> 

"Yep," Angel replied, feeling a small burst of smugness.  "What do you know?" he chuckled.  "His magic tricks finally accomplished something useful."  Underneath his studied casualness, Angel was still reeling from the shock of his sudden freedom.  He was like a bird with broken wings, healing slowly.  Caution and fear kept him from flight, even though his body was sound. 

Willow swallowed, her heart tightening.  She so much wanted to be with him through this, to experience his reawakening to freedom and joy.  He wanted her there with him.  Angel gave her an impudent grin.  "Are you sure that we couldn't just try and talk Buffy into a harem?" he suggested with comic hopefulness.  He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and supplied an image of one of his favorite fantasies. 

Willow blushed.  <Bad Angel.!!>  She nearly choked on sudden laughter at the inappropriateness of his suggestion and swatted him playfully. "Stop that!" she exclaimed.  "You're making this harder than it needs to be!"  Angel's smirk widened but he let the opening for another ribald comment pass. 

Underneath his laughter, his love for her was tangible.  His forgiveness for the pain she caused him was a given.  Graceful acceptance of her wishes was more difficult, something he still struggled for.  Sometimes he succeeded; more often he did not.  Angel still had to suppress moments of anger and rebelliousness over the unfairness of what she'd done to him.  Hence, the journal written entirely in Gaelic.  Angel chuckled, laughing at his own pettiness. "I'll write the rest in English," he promised, pressing his lips against her forehead.  The kiss and their parting felt bittersweet for both. 

"That's ok," Willow murmured tearfully.  "I'm teaching myself Gaelic. It's such a pretty language."  Angel squeezed her tight.  She was precious to him, and he was loathe to let go. For the sake of love and friendship, he knew that he would force himself to do so.  Reluctantly, Angel opened up his mind further, letting her see that he was beginning to give in.  He was finally coming to terms with her wishes.  The idea of staying behind and taking care of Buffy wasn't repugnant to him at all.  He still loved the Slayer dearly, even if they wound up being only friends. 

Willow whimpered.  <It's what I want but.  Oh God, it hurts.!!>  Angel shuddered, his entire body trembling.  "I thought you wanted this," he protested, confused beyond reason.  He was tired of hurting.  He wanted some sort of emotional closure now, more than anything.  He wanted to settle this somehow. 

"It is," Willow whispered.  "But it hurts."  He moved to comfort her, but Willow stopped him.  "I chose this for myself," she said.  One of yet another of the countless number of tears that she'd already cried 
leaked from her eye.  She was committed to this course; turning back was not an option.  Several times over the last couple of weeks, Buffy had tried to broach the subject of Willow and Angel.  Each time, Willow changed the subject, refusing to discuss it. 

"Promise me that you'll take care of her," Willow demanded.  "Even if you wind up only being friends."  In her heart, she knew that Angel's thoughts of platonic friendship with Buffy were his way of rationalizing his decision.  He needed to justify his decision to himself by putting it into such a context.  "But promise me also, that if you become more than that, you won't punish yourself with guilt," she demanded.  "I want both of you to be happy."  <We can't sit around acting like we're waiting for Buffy to die.  We both need to move on with our lives, or this is dishonorable...> 

Angel closed his eyes.  He hated this, and she baffled him.  "I promise," he finally grated roughly.  He shook his head, unable to fathom her motivations or thought processes.  "You have my word."  Then, Angel kissed Willow good-bye for the very last time.  He picked up the jacket and the other material that she'd given him and left, taking the other half of her soul with him.  <I'm going to miss you, my love...> 

Thursday, September 25, 1997  7:00AM 

Willow stood mournfully on the sidewalk in front of her now empty house.  Ms. Calendar, Xander, and Buffy stood with her.  They were saying good bye for the very last time.  The moving van had left already.  Her parents sat patiently in the car with the engine running, waiting for her. 

"Take care, Ms. Calendar," Willow murmured, hugging the computer teacher farewell.  Jenny returned her hug and the sentiments.  Next, Willow moved on to Xander.  "I'm going to miss you, Xander," Willow told her best friend.  "I love you," she said, opening her arms to him. 

Xander swooped down and scooped her up into a hug.  "Gonna miss you too," Xander replied hoarsely.  "Love you too, Will," he whispered in her ear.  His chest was unbearably tight and he was obviously struggling not to cry.  "Be careful," he warned.  "Watch out for all those Boston perverts." 

Willow nodded tearful consent, not quite sure who exactly the perverts were supposed to be.  She supposed that he might have meant her Family, or possibly, all Boston males in general.  After a long painful moment, she let go of Xander and moved on to Buffy. 

Buffy looked small and brave, like a little girl bravely confronting her greatest fear.  The girls didn't speak, they merely hugged.  Everything that could be said, had been said already.  "Keep an eye on Xander for me," Willow admonished her friend.  "And try to stay out of trouble," she added, waving a Watcher-like finger under the Slayer's nose. 

Buffy responded with a pouty, half smile and a 'Who Lil-Me.?  Trouble.?' expression.  "I'll try," she assured Willow, smiling brightly.  Buffy seemed determined to put up a brave front until Willow was safely out of sight. 

"Yes, you," Willow murmured with a slight frown.  Her expression and tone briefly mirrored Angel-like mannerisms that were disturbing to see.  "Your new Watcher will be in touch in a couple days," Willow added, finally sharing this last tidbit with Buffy.  She'd deliberately withheld this information until the very last minute, to avoid an argument.  <I don't want to fight with her over this...> 

Buffy scowled suddenly, not pleased at all.  Logically, she'd known that sooner or later Giles' replacement would arrive, but emotionally she wasn't ready.  Willow turned and hurriedly ducked into the back seat of her parents' car.  "Hey!" Buffy protested.  "Who--?!" 

Willow yanked the car door shut quickly, deliberately ignoring Buffy's question.  Without thought, her fingers sought and found the man's ring which still hung from a heavy silver chain around her neck.  She clutched it and waved to her friends as her parents' car pulled away from the curb.  Emotionally, she was sick with herself.  <I'm such a coward.> 

Her eyes remained glued to Buffy's receding figure.  Gradually, Willow came to take some small comfort in the realization that for all that she loved Angel, she loved the Slayer too.  Gently, she tucked the ring away under her blouse and turned her eyes and heart resolutely to the future.