Rating: R
Warning: References to aftermath of non-consensual sexual encounter.
Summary: Angel doesn't understand what he has done to Willow.
Feedback: Please! It's the only way I know whether anyone likes my stories!
Distribution: If you have permission to archive my previous fics, you may have this. Otherwise, please ask first.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.
Author's Notes: This is a belated birthday gift for Jennillu! I hope you like it, sweetie! And it is also for everyone who wanted a sequel to Home and to Detour! I am thrilled to death that you wanted more!
Author's Notes Two: I would like to thank Missy for beta-reading this on such short notice and giving me the confidence to post this today!
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She is his...his soulmate. He has tasted her blood and he has claimed her in the oldest way known between man and woman. Being inside of her has given him the only peace he has known in over a century and the greatest joy he has *ever* known, even before he was sent to Hell. He is certain of this. And now, sated and content, he gazes into the eyes of his mate, expecting to see the same sense of completion and fulfillment that must be shining from his.
But those emotions aren't there. He reaches out with his senses and they confirm what his sight is telling him. She is hurt, anguished, and afraid. Afraid of *him*. She is sobbing and he struggles to understand her words as she tries to move from beneath him, to get away from him.
"...gave you your soul..."
"...tried to help you..."
"...Buffy..."
"...hurt me...why?"
He is able to comprehend some of what she is saying, suppressing a growl when he hears the word 'Buffy', remembering that it is the name of the blonde woman who sent him to Hell, then chained him when he returned. And he realizes that his beautiful girl is in pain, that he has hurt her somehow. She doesn't know she is his, and this puzzles Angel.
How can she not know? How can she not feel this connection between them? This bond that Angel felt, even in Hell. This bond that was his only connection to his humanity, the only thing that kept him from giving in and becoming one of them... a demon, a fiend, a bringer of torture and agony to the other poor souls trapped in that realm of eternal torment.
He moves off of her, but pulls her into his arms as she tries to move away. He wishes he could speak so he could explain to her what he feels, so he could make her understand what happened between them. He is sure that if he could just find his words again, he could end her pain and confusion, make her see that she is his and that it is right and meant to be. A name comes to him through the fog that still shrouds his memories... Willow. His girl is called Willow. If only he could at least say her name.
He tries, but only a rasping growl emerges from his throat as he struggles in vain to speak. Willow keeps trying to escape his embrace. But he holds her tightly to him, trying to convey with his touch what he cannot with words. That he never meant to hurt her. That her soul is a part of him, linked forever with the soul she returned to him.
She keeps sobbing and he tries vainly to comfort her. She stops trying to get away. But she doesn't stop crying. Her cries grow more and more heartrending, in fact, cutting into him with the force of the whips and the knives in the realm he just escaped and he pulls her impossibly closer to him, stroking her hair and trying to soothe her.
Finally, with the greatest effort, he manages to speak. And his words cause Willow to look up at him in obvious confusion.
"Love," Angel says, his throat aching with the unfamiliar exercise .
"Mine."
The End.