The Unforgiven

Excuses and Rationalizations: This part is just plain strange.  So sue me!  :P 
 

 "What do you mean missing?" Willow asked as she pulled the door the rest of the way open.  Despite the disturbing nature of the message, she wasn't overly concerned.  This wasn't the first time that Andrea had slipped off alone for some unsupervised slaying.  The Slayer was young but tough.  Willow had brought her to the relative safety of Boston precisely because of Drea's rebellious tendencies. 

 Willow's hand automatically sought and found the light switch, flooding the dark room with bright light.  The sudden change left her blinking.  On the bed, Angel groaned.  She heard him move to bury his face in the pillow.  Willow blinked again, waiting for her retinas to adjust.  <Bet that hurt.  Angel's eyes are more sensitive than mine are.>

 Lucy, the Slayer's personal Watcher, stood nervously in the hallway.  The long-legged, classy brunette wore a cream-colored suit and matching pumps.  Her shoulder-length hair was perfectly groomed with not a strand out of place.  She looked more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed than any sane person had a right to be at such an abominable hour.  Willow felt like a disorganized frump in comparison.  Lucy's hazel eyes widened upon seeing Willow, confirming the Immortal Watcher's suspicion.  <*Groan.*  I must look awful.>

 "She's not in her bed," Lucy explained apologetically.  "I checked her room on my way to breakfast, just to look in on her, and her bed is empty," she babbled, stepping into the bedroom without an invitation.  The young Watcher didn't think twice about her lack of formality.  She and Willow were good friends.  "Andrea must have slipped out.  I'm terribly sorry.  I didn't want to disturb you at this hour but--"

 In mid-sentence, the attractive young Watcher nearly swallowed her tongue.  Her eyes widened to enormous proportions and her gaze fixed with helpless fascination at a point past Willow.  "OH, MY!" she gasped as her hand flew to cover her mouth.  Her lips parted slightly and she looked ready to faint dead away. 

 <Huh?>  Willow turned to see Angel halfway out of the bed.  He'd been caught in the act, red-handed, with cream on his whiskers.  Normally such a small thing wouldn't have been noteworthy, but for the fact that the vampire was totally, gloriously nude.  Lucy and Willow received more than just an eyeful before the vampire casually reached over and grabbed a sheet.  He yanked it off the bed and absently secured it about his hips, watching the gawking women with curious dark eyes.  Willow glanced at Lucy, then back at Angel, and back to Lucy again.  <Hmm.  Lucy looks like she's never seen a naked man before.>

 <Maybe she hasn't.>  Willow suppressed an insane giggle and finally turned back to her husband.  She regarded him with renewed interest, seeing him anew through the eyes of another woman.  She imagined how Lucy must feel coming upon such a sexy, drop-dead hunk without warning, and then memory took her back to being sixteen and her own heart-throbbing, dry-mouthed reaction.  It was illuminating.  <My god.he's gorgeous.  When did I get used to seeing him.?!>

 Angel regarded them both patiently, waiting for them to finish staring.  A quirky eyebrow cocked and Willow didn't miss the telltale ripple of muscle under his skin as he flexed for them.  Willow had to suppress laughter again as Angel boldly offered up a slow smile and a suggestive wink.  <What a ham!> 

 It didn't occur to Willow to be angry.  She was used to Angel's antics and found them both amusing and endearing.  She knew that she had nothing to fear regarding his fidelity, and hence, no reason to be jealous.  She moved to rescue Lucy from the shameless vampire, but wasn't in time.  Angel, apparently deciding that he didn't mind an audience, made a production out of dropping the sheet and reaching for his pants.  <.!!!.  Drat, too slow!!!>

 "EEEIIIIKKKK!!!!"  Without warning, Lucy bolted.  She fled from the room, disappearing faster than a bat out of hell.  Angel's smile widened deliciously, displaying the slightest hint of canines beneath his lips.  Pure masculinity radiated off of him in palpable waves. <He looks good enough to kill or die for.  Ohh.yummy.  Hmmm.should try and focus.  I should hurt him for doing this to poor Lucy.>

 "Angel!" Willow scolded.  "BAD!!"  She turned to pursue her fleeing subordinate and heard Angel snicker behind her. His sheet hadn't actually made it past his hips, but he'd gotten a huge kick out of his newfound career as a flasher.  <Ohhh!  He's too much!!>

 Willow hurried into the hall.  She barely managed to catch up with Lucy.  She grabbed the Watcher's arm and escorted her a decent distance from the doorway before stopping.  Lucy went without so much as a murmur of protest.  She seemed too intent upon casting nervous glances over her shoulder to notice their location.  Willow sighed.  <Poor Lucy!  She looks ready to die of embarrassment!> 

 "Umm.Lucy, Drea?" Willow managed, not entirely sure what to else to say.  There was no plausible way to explain, or excuse Angel's behavior as anything short of outrageous.  Lucy couldn't stop looking over her shoulder.  <It's like she expects Angel to come chasing us in the buff!>  Willow cleared her throat and found her own eyes straying involuntarily towards that damning doorway.  <Angel wouldn't do that!  I think.he's mostly predictable.some of the time.>

 <Yeah, right.  Angel the Shameless Tease is more like!!!>  Without further ado, she shoved Lucy around the corner and out of sight of potentially-naked-vampires-in-hot-pursuit.  "Umm.  You were saying.?" she prompted again.

 "Oh!  Oh, my," Lucy gasped behind her hand.  She promptly turned beet red and dropped her eyes to the ground.  "I'm sorry.so sorry!"  She looked ready to sink through the floorboards from embarrassment and Willow felt an instant rush of pity. 

 "Lucy.Lucy.it's OK," Willow assured her softly.  "I'll speak with him about securing his sheet in the future," she promised.  "I'm sorry.  I really don't know what gets into him sometimes."  She placed a soothing hand over the younger woman's.  "I had the exact same reaction when I was sixteen."

 Lucy's head sprang up.  "Oh, but I'm twenty-four!  And I'm being so silly.  You'd think that I'd never seen a man before!  Naked!  For Lord's sake!  And he's your husband and.  Oh my God!"  She stopped stammering and turned a deeper shade of scarlet.  "Err.  That was Angel, wasn't it?"

 Willow blinked.  <Who else does she think.?!>  "Yes, that was Angel," she hastily assured the brunette and decided to change the subject.  She wasn't managing to reassure Lucy at all and only seemed to be making the other woman uncomfortable.  "Lucy, I want you to wake everyone up and begin searching the grounds," she directed firmly.  "Check in the workout room in case Drea decided to train.  I'm going to put on some proper clothes and I'll be there in a minute.  Can you do that?" 

 "Lucy?" 

 Lucy raised startled, confused eyes to Willow's face.  She seemed very distracted.  <Like her mind is preoccupied!  *Snort!*  Gosh, what *could* she be thinking of?>  "Can you do that?" Willow repeated.  Lucy nodded numb assent, and turned to hurry off down the hall, eager to escape.  Willow watched her retreating form for a moment with sad sympathy and went back into her room. 

 Angel, shirtless and clad in trousers, sat on the bed.  His expression was one of beatific innocence.  "You can't possibly be angry with me," it seemed to say.  "I didn't know any better!  Those cookies just fell into my lap!"  Willow shook her head, trying to muster appropriate outrage and disapproval.  It was all she could do to keep from smiling.  <Focus.  Bad Angel.>

 He grinned at her cockily.  Her lips twitched and his smile widened.  She sighed and gave up, sitting down on the bed next to him. The link crackled to life between them, carrying emotions like an artery transporting blood.  <Bad Angel?> he asked.

 She nodded.  <Bad Angel.>

 <Forgive me?>  He offered her a unabashedly cheerful grin.  The devil may care about being in trouble, but Angel certainly didn't.  If anything, he reveled in it and seemed to delight in stirring up mischief.  His expression was one of a cat-covered-in-canary-feathers: guilty as all hell, but absolutely adorable nonetheless. 

 <My little reprobate.  Who am I kidding.?>  She extended her hands.  <All right.but just this once!  I'm not a big softy!>

 <Sure you're not.>  He took her hands in his own and peered into her eyes as the unspoken communication passed between them.  His eyes mirrored the strength, determination, and will of his soul.  They were tender and gentle, and held the purest love and faith, for her and in her.  Underneath that love he was weary and hurting but he set that aside in selfless denial.  She knew then that even if her faith in herself faltered, her faith in him never would.  Angel would stop at nothing to protect her and her child.  She believed in him; he would never fail.

 "Angel?" Willow whispered.

 "Yes?"

 "Keep your sheet securely fastened from now on."

 "Yes, ma'am."

Journal of Angelus Kieran Boyle 
Wednesday, May 8, 2019

 Willow held onto my hands like a lifeline.  She looked so lost and sad, so alone.  I felt my heart clench.  She carried much sorrow and worry in her heart.  In that short moment stolen from reality, I had enough time to offer a small amount of comfort, but not enough to heal her hurts.  She peered up at me and offered me a brave smile.  It aroused every protective instinct I possess.

 I have always admired both her gentle spirit and her staggering courage.  It is strange how the smile of a loved one can change things.  Willow wanted to apologize yet again, but words were not sufficient.  For me, knowing that she was sorry, and feeling it, was enough.  We connected over the link, and just for a moment everything righted between us.  This is not to say that our every problem was solved, but things felt better.  With a simple smile she conveyed love and devotion, apology and promise.  It was all I needed. 

 "I have to go," she whispered.  <I'll be back, I promise.>

 "I'll come with you," I volunteered.  There was not much that I could do with the sun rising, but I had to offer.  She needs me.

 "No."  Her lips curved more.  Willow's smile is so lovely that I easily lose myself in it.  "Please get some sleep.  Drea is probably fine, she just likes to sneak out.  She's rebelling.  Besides, there's nothing that you can do.  The sun is rising in a half hour."

 I nodded.  She was right and I was exhausted.  "Wake me when you find her?"

 "I will."  She walked over to the closet and pulled out some clothes.  I watched while she hurriedly dressed.  She came to me afterwards and kissed my lips lightly.  She reached past me to grab something off the bed.  I watched as she folded my tweed jacket over her arm.  It was rumpled and looking much the worse for wear.  "I'll have it dry-cleaned," she murmured.

 It was an apology rendered and a sincere attempt at restitution.  I nodded again and accepted her amends.  Tweed does not matter anymore, nor does principal.  Willow and I have so many more problems to face without holding trivial grudges.  We are not going to have the energy to spare on minor marital disputes or it might cost us the life of our child.

 Willow gave me another soft kiss and she was gone.

Watcher Headquarters 
Sunrise

 Drea restrained the panic-stricken vampire by the collar of her shirt.  The sun was rising behind them and the young girl was nearly hysterical with fear.  Despite the urgency, Drea refused to run for shelter.  She knew damn well what fatal threat the sun represented to the Kindred, but a part of her was hoping to see the vampire become a crispy-critter before they reached safety. 

 Oh well, not much hope of that now.  As they passed through the front gate and came up the main drive, Drea wasn't surprised to see a frumpy Willow and a frazzled Lucy waiting for her at the front door.  They stared with maternal disapproval as she sauntered up to the door.  "Andrea!" Lucy exclaimed.  "Where on earth have you been?!"

 "Hunting," Drea replied flippantly, letting go of the straining vampire's shirt without warning.  Smoke was beginning to rise off of her hair and arms.  The Kindred went barreling towards the front door only to bounce off the invisible barrier that kept her out.  The force of the impact knocked the girl silly and she slid to the ground with a pitiful whimper.

 "Look what I caught!"  Drea smirked at Willow, awaiting her response with eager anticipation.

Journal of Angelus Kieran Boyle 
Wednesday, May 8, 2019

 After Willow left, I lay staring up at the ceiling.  Sleep did not come like it should have with the sun so close.  My mind was full of thoughts, echoing like noisy cries in a darkened chamber.  Anger and frustration rose to haunt me like those restless spirits of Willow's dream.  I stirred and opened my eyes.  The only thing to look at from flat on your back is the ceiling.

 It was not stucco.

 I have no idea what that means, but Willow says that she will never look at a stucco (or non-stucco) ceiling again and not think of me.  The first time I asked her for an explanation, she actually blushed a lovely shade of rose.  Then she developed one of the silliest smiles that I have ever seen cross her face and looked away. 

 It has driven me nuts ever since. 

 I have asked.  Her lips curve with some sweet feminine secret and her skin flushes softly.  She looks away and will not meet my eyes.  I have wheedled and pleaded, spending countless hours trying to seduce an explanation from her.  She resists my every attempt and denies me at every turn.  She has endured hour upon hour of sweet torment rather than explain.  I cannot imagine what might be going through her mind to make it such a prized secret.

 I swear, sometimes, she baffles me.

 Stucco reflections are merely a distraction.  I am trying to keep my mind off the thoughts that drove me from bed and to this journal.  I think best while I write.  Perhaps seeing the words on paper flowing from my mind lends a sort of painful clarity.  I have become very adept at brooding with a pen in my hand.  To think that I never used to write down my thoughts.

 My mind keeps drifting back to my problems with Willow: her pregnancy, her silence, and the threat facing our child.  She lied to me; she deceived me.  Perhaps it was merely a sin of omission, but the intent to deceive was still present.  How could she have failed? How could she not have told me before now?  How could she have been so human?  Willow is perfect; I am the liar.  She is everything that I have ever idolized and admired.  Have I unfairly placed her on a pedestal? 

 I cannot imagine keeping such a secret from her and I am puzzled and unsettled that she could keep such from me.  This latest lapse in communication is disturbing, to say the least.  I do not know where we went wrong, when we stopped talking.  The more I think about it, the more agitated I become.  I feel like prowling about this confining prison of a room.

 My God, Willow abandoned me twenty-two years ago and I am still angry.  She callously rejected me and scarified our love without my consent.  I told Willow that forgiveness is not an issue between us.  What a crock!  I am lying to her and myself, and Willow knows that I am, even though I can barely admit this to myself. I have been denying that there is a problem for over two decades.  I have refused to acknowledge even to myself what Willow has known this entire time. Her sin is not absolved in my heart.  It is unforgiven and it gives me power over her: power to hurt and power to control.

 I am intimately familiar with relationships regulated by a balance of power.  I use power as naturally as a mortal heart beats or lungs breathe.  Power is the basis for vampire relationships.  It governs social interaction and hierarchy within covens.  Darla and I were joined for a hundred years in a constant battle for dominance that is nearly indistinguishable from many human marriages.  Spike contested alpha status with me from day one.  He went into the ground fighting like the devil and came right back out with a driving fury.  He rebelled at every turn.  Even the deceptively docile and dependent Drusilla used power to achieve her ends.  If anything, of all my children, she understood its use and nature the best. 

 Humans are not unlike vampires.  I've witnessed plenty of marriages where the participants are contestants in a battle of wills rather than partners in a cooperative union.  The contest for domination seems to end in one of three ways: divorce, death, or the subjugation of one to another.  Weakness dare not be shown without fear of retribution and the principle objective of either spouse seems to be the punishment of the other.  If one partner screws up, then the other makes them crawl. 

 Willow taught me love and forgiveness.  She showed me that you forgive those that you love when they are sincerely sorry.  Willow taught me the power of mercy and how to love gracefully.  Giving is so much more rewarding than grudging.  I am a stronger, better person for the countless times that she loved and forgave me without condition or constraint.

 Understanding and practicing are two different things.  I am not good at forgiving either others or myself.  I lack Willow's strength, her maturity, and her nobility.  I am selfish and petty and cling to wrongs rendered like a childish brat.  I hate myself and it impedes my ability to love whole-heartedly and without reservation.

 I have used my hurt like a shield to keep her out and I now feel a festering emotional wound inside of me that I had blocked.  I refused to acknowledge these feelings for so long because I know that I am not worthy of them.  I do not have a right to be angry with Willow, not after everything that she has done for me so I aspired to a false nobility that is not truly mine.  I pretended to be better than I am and now I have been shown a liar.

 Willow has ripped off the proverbial scab to reveal a festering mass of anger, hurt, and resentment.  Yes, it is true.  I want to hurt her back.  I want her to suffer for what she did to me and to our relationship so long ago.  I ask myself, how can I be so cruel to the woman who opened her heart to me, who loved and forgave me without reservation despite my ugly past?

 It is because I have a talent for cruelty.  I always have.  I am furious and I would not admit it until now.  The anger is there inside of me, rearing its ugly head.  This darkness within me, can I finally let it go?  God help me, because if I cannot learn to forgive and forget, this is going to tear us apart.  Or worse, it will cost us Moppet's life at a time when there is no room for division or distrust between us.

 I cannot let that happen and I will not.