Author: Jinni (druscilla@cox.net)

Rated: R

Pairing: W/A eventually

Author’s Notes: This takes place after the events “Hell’s Bells” in BtVS canon and after the events of “Waiting in the Wings” in AtS canon. For the
sake of this fic we will all assume that Connor is just a baby and in no way connected to any sort of prophecy.

Summary: Willow pays a hard price to give Angel the ultimate present.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 

~Part: 1~

Things had been quiet at Angel Investigations – entirely too quiet for the tastes of one ex-watcher. Without Cordelia around there was no one to nag them, no one screaming from visions, and no one being overly bossy.

‘Come to think of it, that’s more like heaven.’ Wesley smirked to himself. He stood up from his desk, wandering to the doorway of his office. Gunn and Fred were off somewhere; no doubt doing things that would make his heart freeze. With Cordelia gone, as well, that left only himself and Angel in the building.

Wesley watched Angel from his position at the doorway, his heart going out to him. Out of every other employee at Angel Investigations, the ex-watcher was the one who could best understand what the vampire was feeling at that moment. Loss. Sadness. Loneliness. All of those things he himself had felt not too many days before when he had caught Fred and Gunn together. No matter how hard Angel had tried to keep his feelings a secret – it didn’t take a genius to put it all together. Anyone with half a clue should have noticed that Angel had feelings for Cordelia. Wesley sighed, pushing away from the doorway.

“Why didn’t you just tell her?”

Angel looked up at the words, startled. His eyes locked with those of the man standing before him and he attempted to look puzzled. “Tell who… what??”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Angel.” Wesley said, his voice little more than a whisper in the empty hotel lobby. He sank into a chair, his eyes never
departing from those of the vampire. Unlike himself, Angel needed to let his feelings out. A vampire with pent-up emotions just wouldn’t make for happy inter-office relations. Especially since said vampire tended to take dumb risks when he was depressed. “Why didn’t you tell Cordelia how you felt?”

The dark haired vampire raised his eyebrows, intending to disavow any knowledge of having feelings for Cordelia that went anything beyond
friendship. Instead, he found himself telling the truth. “What good would it have done? She loves Groo and he loves her. I could never have come between that. I wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“And now you’ll never know, either.” Wesley pointed out quietly. He didn’t for one moment believe that Angel would have had no chance with Cordelia. The two of them would have, in fact, made a lovely couple and there was no telling the happiness they would have shared.

“Let’s face it – things between her and I would never have worked out anyway. When you love someone you want to be with them…in the way her and Groo are probably being together right about now.” His normally stoic face was set in a look of utter sadness. “That’s the kind of happiness I can never have, Wes.” Without another word he was gone, the stairs creaking slightly as he made his way to his rooms.

Wesley nodded, understanding now the main reason Angel had held himself back – the curse. The vampire could never know true happiness or else
Angelus would be released upon the world again. In a none-too-rare act of self-sacrifice Angel had given up on a relationship with Cordelia. He had
stood back and let her move on to someone who would be able to share everything with her. It was totally selfless and just what the former
Watcher expected of the vampire. ‘He deserves happiness, though.’ Wesley thought bitterly. He looked around the now empty lobby. “He has atoned numerous times over.” Wesley whispered, his eyes glaring up at the ceiling – up to the heavens themselves. “Why can’t he have this one thing? Happiness?”

Standing suddenly, the former Watcher strode quickly to his office. He shut the door behind him. There was no good reason why Angel couldn’t have happiness. He wouldn’t stop being the Warrior of the PTBs. In fact, he would probably be even better at it than he was now. The ability to love and find happiness wasn’t a weakness. There was little chance for Wesley himself to ever find happiness – but maybe he could help Angel attain some of his own. Removing the happiness clause from the curse would no doubt enable the vampire to seek out happiness in any form he chose. Not to mention the safety it would give to those around Angel, including the vampire’s infant son, Connor. He sat down at his desk, fingers already moving to the keyboard of his computer. The former Watcher’s face was set in an expression of pure determination.

“Time to get to work, old boy.”
 

~Part: 2~

Cordelia knocked lightly on the door of Wesley’s office, ignoring the muffled, “Go away”, that came from within. Twisting the knob, she poked her
head into the office, smiling brightly. She rolled her eyes at the sight of Wesley, hunched over his desk. Papers were scattered everywhere. ‘Doesn’t he ever just take a break?’ She thought before speaking up, still smiling. “Hey, recluse-man!”

Wesley lifted his head from the book he had been looking at, favoring Cordelia with a broad smile. “Ah. You’re back. Did you have a nice vacation?”

“Oh yeah. Tons of fun. We went on a nice cruise and then just laid around my apartment for a week – just relaxing and having fun…And you aren’t paying a bit of attention to me, are you?” Her voice was sharp when she noticed that the dark haired man had returned to the book he had been reading.

“No…no – I’m paying attention.” Wesley assured her. His eyes were fixed firmly on the page in front of him. “I’m very happy to have you back.”

“Yeah – feeling it. I’d have better luck trying to have a conversation with Connor.” She rolled her eyes and left, shutting the door behind her.

The former Watcher never once looked up, his eyes darting from left to right across the page. His lips moved as he read over the translation he had
finished a mere five minutes before Cordelia interrupted. Only once he had started looking for a soul-anchoring spell had Wesley realized just how
impossible it would be to find a spell specifically to permanently bind a soul to a vampire. Apparently there weren’t too many people who cared enough to give demons their souls. In order to experience any sort of success he had been forced to expand his search to spells that anchored souls to ‘anything’.

The current spell he was looking over was to anchor a soul into a human body – a last ditch effort to protect against certain types of soul-trading
practices favored by tribes still in existence in the jungles of South America. It had been something he remembered reading about in journals
written by Watchers who had observed those peoples at one time or another. Getting his hands on a copy of the spell had been nothing but pure luck, he could admit. One of his contacts included a friend that was still a member of the Watchers. It had taken that friend almost an entire week to locate the spell Wesley remembered. The parcel containing the delicate parchment had arrived just that morning, shipped express from London.

But he wasn’t sure if it would work – the spell was meant to be used on humans, not wayward vampires. He knew, in his heart, that it was likely to
be the closest thing to what he was looking for. There just were not any spells to permanently anchor a vampire’s soul to their body. What point was there when most people just wanted vampires dead? He realized, as he finished looking over the translation, that he still had a problem.

He wasn’t capable of doing this spell.

In fact – he could think of only one person he had come into contact with since leaving the Watchers that *would* be able to do the spell. He had
tried to keep the group in Sunnydale out of this entirely – hadn’t even contacted them to help him find the spell. But, in the end, he was going to
need the help of one of them.

Willow Rosenberg.
 

~Part: 3~

Willow looked around the small magic supply shop, wondering at the sanity of her friends. How could they leave her, of all people, to watch the shop
while they went off? She could understand that they all needed to share the responsibility of the shop now that Anya was gone but didn’t they understand how much of a temptation it was to be here amongst all these artifacts and books? Her fingers itched with the desire to open one; to read up on new spells – research new techniques.

But she couldn’t risk it.

“It’s better to go cold turkey than have my friends end up *as* cold turkeys because of me.” She muttered to herself. Abstaining from magic was one of the hardest things she had ever done in her life. She knew that if she couldn’t kick the habit now she would never be able to do it. At least, at this point in her life, she had friends that would help her. She flipped idly through the magazine in front of her, trying to ignore where she was
entirely.

The red head looked up as the bells over the door of the Magic Box jingled. Her green eyes widened with surprise as the visitor came into view. She
licked her lips, trying to shake off her surprise. “Wesley?”

Blinking a few times to adjust to the dim light of the room, Wesley smiled warmly at the woman he had traveled to speak with. “Miss Rosenberg – just the person I wanted to speak to.”

Taken aback, Willow slid off of the stool and came around in front of the counter. “You wanted to talk to me?” She moved towards one of the small
reading tables, pulling out two chairs. Gesturing for him to sit, she did likewise.

The former Watcher took the proffered chair, placing his small briefcase on the ground next to him. “Yes…I need your help, Willow.”

Grinning, she shook her head. “Doubtful. You probably need Buffy’s help.”

“I am quite sure that you are the one I have come to ask for assistance from.” He corrected her. Reaching into the bag at his feet, the former
Watcher pulled out the translation he had looked over only one night previously. He placed the sheets in front of her, watching as her face
clouded over almost immediately.

“Oh…” She whispered. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “I…I can’t Wesley.” She shook her head, standing up and pacing away from the table. When she turned back, her arms were crossed. “I guess you guys didn’t hear what happened – I got addicted to dark magicks and almost got Dawn killed. I ’ve given it all up. No more magick for me. Not until I am sure of myself… If then.”

“Y-You did?” His eyes closed in horror. That had to have been an awful situation for her to be in – for everyone around her to be in, for that
matter. And Buffy’s sister had almost been killed? He shuddered at the thought. Stubbornly, though, he refused to let that stop his mission. He had
faith in the woman sitting next to him, even if she had none in herself. “You’re not even going to ask what the spell is for…?” He prompted gently,
opening his eyes to look at her with a soft smile. The back of his mind chided him that this wasn’t right – she was recovering from an addiction and
here he was, tempting her. Another part of him was angry that the self-centered brats that called themselves her friends hadn’t even sought
help from Angel and him. They would have been able to help Willow from the beginning, ease her through her tough times. He would make that offer to her, as well, before he left.

Willow sighed and resumed her place at the table. She would hear him out. He had driven all this way to see her – she owed him that much, at least – if only for the sake of courtesy. “Ok. What is the spell for?”

Wesley smiled reassuringly at her. “It will bind Angel’s soul to his body – permanently. No more happiness clause.”

The red head felt as if the world had dropped out from under her. A way to anchor Angel’s soul? No more chance of Angelus ever coming into the world? The thought itself was like the sweetest of dreams. She had searched for a spell like this off and on ever since Angel had first lost his soul and, at one time, she would have jumped at the chance to do this. But now…now it was different. Magick was dangerous for her. ‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop if I start down that path again…’ She thought sadly. Her eyes roamed over the piece of paper Wesley had placed before her. She could almost see herself setting up the ritual, speaking the words.

And Angel deserved it – of that there was no doubt. She had always had a soft spot in her heart for the dark haired vampire. He was a true champion of everything right in the world and was generous to a fault. There was no doubt in her mind that if anyone deserved happiness it was him. “I can’t make any promises to you, Wesley,” She began, slowly. “But I will at least think it over. I’ll let you know as soon as I make my decision.”

Wesley nodded. At least she would consider his request - that was more than he had hoped for after she had so quickly replied in the negative at the first glimpse of the spell. “I’ll just leave that copy with you for you to review, then.” He stood and gave her a smile. “You have the number for our offices?”

“Of course.” Willow whispered, still looking at the spell in front of her. It would be so simple to just do it – bind Angel’s soul forever. But could
she stop afterwards? Could she really risk going back to magick when it had been so hard to forsake it in the first place?

“Good, then – Angel doesn’t know anything about this, by the way. I didn’t want to get his hopes up if it all came to nothing.” He could see the
expressions as they flew across her face – sadness, fear, uncertainty – and a part of him hated to be the one who had brought them all to the surface. She was the only one he could trust with this, though. If she wouldn’t help…he didn’t know who else could. “Goodbye, Miss Rosenberg. Please visit us at the offices even if you decide not to help with the spell, perhaps we can help assist you with your recovery from magick?”

Willow hardly noticed as the dark haired man left the shop, barely heard the offer he made to her in regards to her addiction. Only in the back of her
mind did she even hear the bell over the door tinkle as a customer entered the shop. She sighed, folding up the paper and slipping it into her pocket. She stood and smiled at the middle-aged woman puttering around the shop. Pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind she began to help the woman find the herbs she needed, knowing she would have to make a difficult decision in the near future.
 

~Part: 4~

The cool breeze that came in through the open window was almost unnaturally cool, certainly too chilly for the time of year. Willow opened her eyes, sat up in her bed and reached out to close it. She pulled the thin blanket that was covering her up to her chin as she laid back down. Only two days had passed since Wesley had came to visit her. In those two days she had done a lot of soul searching.

On one hand – Angel deserved this more than anything in the world. The freedom to love and find happiness would make him stronger, better able to fight the darkness of the world.

“Not to mention the fact that you’ve always loved him like a brother…” Willow whispered to herself. That had been the hardest part to bear – the thought of loving someone other than Tara. She consoled herself with the fact that she thought of him like an older brother, though a part of her argued that that wasn’t the exact truth either. During high school he had always been there for her – to talk and hang around with. The others didn’t know about their friendship. They wouldn’t have been able to handle it. After he had left for Los Angeles they had drifted apart. The weekly emails had become monthly – until finally neither of them had spoken in almost a year.

But that had never stopped the feelings she had for him. No matter how hard she had tried to push them aside, he was her friend and always would be. The warm spot she had for him in her heart cried out for her to help him – to give him happiness.

But – on the other hand, she couldn’t guarantee that the one taste of magick wouldn’t spiral her out of control again. She craved it, every day, like a drug. Going cold turkey had worked once – but she knew in her heart that she didn’t have the strength to do it again. Her friends would abandon her if she ‘fell off the wagon’ – they had been very clear in that regard. They probably would berate her if they knew she was even considering doing this spell, if not kick her out of their lives entirely. She hadn’t mentioned Wesley’s visit to any of them for fear of just that.

“I’m like a paroled prisoner,” She murmured with half a smile. She rolled on her side, clutching a pillow to her chest. Her thoughts were consumed with Angel, her heart filled with a mixture of love and dread. Doing this for him would be the best thing she ever did, there was no doubt in her mind, but the risk of damning herself forever by going back to magick was too great.

“Goddess…what can I do?” Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, falling heavily to the pillow. She cried silently, wishing without hope that her small prayer would be answered.

And then it hit her.

Prayer.

Her eyes flew to the treatise she had been reading, written by a Wiccan around the turn of 19th century. It detailed the power of prayer and the miracles the Goddess had brought to life at the behest of her followers simply when they prayed to Her for help. There were no set rituals and it didn’t call for any use of magick. It was pure prayer and entreaty to the higher powers to help -something that had no chance of setting her back on the path of magick.

“That just might work…” Willow whispered. She grabbed the book from her nightstand, staring at the scrawling text in the dim light coming from her bedside light. In each of the stories of the Goddess stepping in to help there was one common theme – pure intent. “And I have that in abundance!” There was nothing for her to gain from this, in fact. It would be done with pure, self-less thought. She grinned, feeling lighter at heart than she had in days.

Her eyes roamed to the clock on her nightstand. The time read only a little past midnight. She would tell her friends in the morning that she was going away for a little while and then she would go somewhere where she could be alone and pray for Angel’s soul.
 

~Part: 5~

Willow turned the knob on the door and looked around the small motel room. It was the type of place her friends would never find her at – they would never even believe she knew about this type of place. They had been easily placated by the story she had contrived of visiting family out of town. The four hundred dollars she had placed on the rickety old counter in front of the motel manager had guaranteed that the room was hers for the next month.

She had that long to make this work.

The bed creaked with the weight of her duffel bag. It was a horrible noise, the type that would wake you up in the middle of the night just from rolling over. ‘I won’t be sleeping anyway – not if things go right.’ She sighed to herself, gently lowering her body into the sole chair in the room. Sinking into the worn red fabric, she closed her eyes – mentally steeling herself for what she was about to do. What she *had* to do.

Her green eyes opened slowly as an even deeper resolution set in to her. This could be dangerous, she knew. Not once in her entire experience with magick had she ever attempted to enter a trance this deep – to contact forces this powerful. She stood swiftly surveying the room. There was very little space, but it would have to do.

The sound of the bag’s zipper parting was like thunder in the quiet room. The silent red head lifted items from the canvas enclosure one by one, laying each on the bed. At the bottom was what she would need to begin – a small folding stool, the perfect size for an altar. Kneeling on the floor next to the bed she unfolded the item, remembering the one who had given it to her with fondness. No matter what had happened, Tara would always hold a special place in her heart.

The stool was quickly draped with a simple piece of white silk, the edges brushing the thin brown carpet of the room. Her fingers brushed over the material, savoring its crisp, cool softness. The simple act of setting up the altar became, in itself, a mystical experience – a holy journey through her memories – as she savored each item as if it would be the last time she touched them. The only item she didn’t place upon the altar, standard in all of her prior rituals, were the candles. With no idea how long she could be entranced it just wouldn’t be safe to leave them lit.

Standing, she stepped away from the altar and shed her clothes, tossing them into a corner. They would not be needed for this. The temperature of the room was warm enough to prevent a chill, though slightly warmer than she would have liked. “At least its not too cold,” She whispered to herself, making her way back to the altar, “I hate being skyclad in cold air.”

Bending to the altar, the young witch picked up her athame, the smooth wooden handle feeling unreal in her hand. Her eyes closed, then reopened - and the ritual began. Starting at the northern point, she slowly turned, envisioning a circle surrounding her and keeping her safe. If the room had been larger she would have walked the path – but it was not. When she reached the north again she laid the athame down, her mind now clear with purpose.

Turning slightly, so as to face the east, she intoned, “Attend me, oh Guardians of the East, bless me with the life stirring powers of air, hearken to my call.” She shifted, facing the south, “Attend me, oh Guardians of the South, bless me with the purifying heat of Fire, hearken to my call.” This time, to the west, she chanted, “Attend me, oh Guardians of the West, bless me with the holy waters of life.” Finally, in the direction of the north, and her temporary altar, she asked, “Attend me, oh Guardians of the North, give me the blessings of the Mother, of the Earth – hearken to my call.”

She felt, more than saw, the power snap into place, as her circle coalesced into a magickal reality – a barrier between herself and the outside world. Different from performing a spell, this was a simple consecration of space – something even the magickally ungifted could do. This was holy space, a place to perform rituals and to pray. And now was the time to pray. The red head sank to her knees slowly, folding her hands in the symbolic method of prayer. She closed her eyes, shaping her desire while clearing her mind of all stray thoughts.

‘Goddess, I stand before you, a humble servant, naked to the world….’ Her silent litany began, the words flowing in her mind like an endless river. Time itself ceased to have meaning to her, so deep was her trance. Though her muscles ached from the position, she did not move – her prayer never ceased.

The sun rose and set – rose and set again. And still she prayed. She prayed for the answer to one of the mysteries in her life. She prayed for a way to set things right – to prevent the demon she feared most from ever again walking the Earth. ‘Show me the way. Light my path as you light the world – whether in the brightness of the day or the ethereal glow of the night…’ Her heart, mind, and soul cried to the heavens in a plea so desperate, yet pure, that someone had to answer.

Yet another day passed before response came.
 

~Part: 6~

In the back of her mind Willow knew that she was harming herself. Not a single drop of food or water had she taken in nearly four days. Only in the deepest recess of her mind did she know the pain her body was in. None of that mattered, though.

And then she found herself outside of her body and the room was gone. It seemed that the heavens themselves were around her, the stars surrounding her in a sea of infinite blackness. She watched as a star directly ahead of her began to grow, glowing until the light was unbearable. When it had faded, and she could again see what was before her, she gasped in wonder. There was no doubt in her mind who and what stood before her – though she had never had a Visitation before. Tears of adoration sprang to her ghostly eyes and she blinked. The figure remained before her, though.

“My child.”

Even in her insubstantial form, Willow felt her knees give way. Her spirit self now mirrored her physical self in its kneeling position. “Goddess…”

The woman tilted her head, her eyes kind. “You have prayed many days now, my Willow. I have heard, listened, but I want to hear it from your own mouth. What is it that you seek so diligently? Why have you whispered your entreaties to the heavens for so long?”

The red head licked her lips, the gesture habit yet entirely unnecessary in her current form. “I need to know how to secure Angel’s soul. I want him to be happy.”

Willow’s Goddess nodded. “He is the Warrior for Us – for the mortals in the city He calls home. He has never asked Us for this, you know.” She gazed thoughtfully at the woman, little more than a child that still kneeled before her. “He does not know you ask this for Him. He would not wish you to do so – you are aware of this.”

The young witch nodded. “But he gives of himself. He does not ask for this and he would not ask me to do it, I know – but he deserves happiness. That can’t happen though – not unless his soul is secure. I would not ever want to see Angelus walk the Earth again, Mother.” She bowed her head in reverence.

“And what of his demon?” The Goddess murmured. “Why not simply have me remove that from him? Make him a mortal man – is that not the better means to this end?”

Willow pondered the question for a long moment, her eyes set firmly on her own clasped hands. Finally, she looked up. “No. Becoming human would end his chance for Redemption – the very thing he continues to fight for. He needs that. There’s no reason for him to spend the next however many years being alone and sad, though – is there?”

Time passed slowly as the red head waited for her Goddess to speak again. She felt a lump of fear rise in her throat. ‘Did I say something wrong? Did I misspeak?’

“Calm yourself, child.” The Goddess laughed softly, the unspoken questions in her worshipper’s thoughts clear as day to Her. “I can give you what you seek…but there is a price to be paid.”

“Really?” Willow brightened, her eyes lighting up with joy. “I’ll pay the price – gladly. Just tell me what to do.”

“You speak rashly.” All playing was gone from the Goddess’ eyes and she stood up straighter. “Do you know what you ask? Would you forsake all others, my child? Be bound to Him and to Him only? To hold this secret in your heart until the end of time – or until He realizes what you have sacrificed for him? To know no love unless He sees fit to love you. Would you truly give this of yourself?”

“Yes.” Willow breathed. There were worse things than giving up her own happiness to allow Angel to have his, she reasoned in her heart. The world needed him and his happiness would only allow him to be a better Warrior for the Powers that Be. Her own happiness was trivial.

“Then have your wish and know the costs of it – to be weighed out over however many lifetimes it takes the Warrior to find His Redemption. You will live as humans live yet know not the toils of age and pain. You will know His sorrows and His pain – though He may be oblivious to your own. You are His Companion, his Confidant, his Eternal Friend – and this may be all that comes to pass. You will not find true love unless He gives it to you. This part is up to the two of you, however. To speak of this night or to stray from any of these admonitions is to risk not only your immortal soul – but His as well. You may say only that His soul is bound – but not the when or the how.” Her eyes softened for a moment. “Are you sure this is what you wish? Life will be difficult. You may never know love again, Willow. Is His soul worth this price?”

Exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Willow met the eyes of her Goddess. “Yes.”

The Goddess raised her hand, one elegant finger pointing directly at Willow’ s heart. “You have chosen. May you never regret it.”
 

~Part: 7~

Willow came back to herself suddenly, the pain in her chest so intense that she opened her mouth to scream – and found she didn’t have the ability to. Aching muscles gave out, her body collapsing to one side as she sobbed in silent agony. Then, as quickly as it came, the pain was gone. She sat up slowly, gingerly, her cramped muscles screaming for a warm bath even as her stomach demanded food.

Standing hesitantly, the witch turned slowly, murmuring the words to thank the Guardians she had originally called. As she picked up her athame and quietly turned counter-clockwise, she felt the energies of the circle dissolve.

‘It worked.’ She thought; her excitement dampened only by the pain she was feeling. She knew Angel must have felt something, too – and only the realization that he needed to be told about his soul spurred her to keep moving.

“I’ve got to tell Angel…” She whispered. A sharp pain in her stomach reminded her how long it had been since she had eaten. “Right after I eat.”

~*~*~

Angel doubled over in pain, his chest burning from the inside, the pressure so great he thought he would burst. He screamed, falling to his knees in the center of the lobby, drawing worried exclamations from his staff. It was over in less than a minute, leaving the vampire shaking and scared. Whatever had happened had felt so keenly similar to the night he lost his soul that he was worried for a split second that he had somehow lost it again.

“No…still there.” He murmured to himself, slowly rising to his feet. Whatever had happened seemed to be over for the moment.

“A…Angel?” Cordelia asked hesitantly, taking small steps towards the vampire. “Are you okay?” She searched his face for any sign of what had happened to him – and found nothing.

“I think so…” He said hesitantly, giving her a small smile. Standing up straight, he dropped his hand from where it had been clutching his chest. “The pain’s gone now.” His brow wrinkled between his eyes; worry being replaced with curiosity.

“I wonder what could have caused it.” Wesley murmured.

“Prophecy?” Cordelia suggested.

“Heartburn from a bad pint of blood?” Gunn quipped, trying to cover his own worry with a joke.

Wesley rolled his eyes, the tolerance he had once felt for Gunn’s antics no longer quite as strong. “What did it feel like? I’ll do some research.”

Angel shrugged. “To be honest – it was the same pain I felt the night I lost my soul. Wait…wait!” He groaned, as all humans in the room scattered as far from him as possible. “C’mon guys! I haven’t lost it again – I just said it felt the same!”  He watched as they slowly began to regroup, still a few feet further away than they had been in the beginning. “It was like my chest was on fire and there was pressure – like I was about to explode.”

Nodding to himself, Wesley made notes quietly, his mind already a mile away and further ahead. Had Willow done the spell? Was Angel’s soul anchored? Would she really have done it without telling him first? He tapped the pen against the paper, unaware that all eyes in the room were on him. Finally he looked up, smiling to cover his own confusion. “Great. I’ll go look through some sources and see what I can find.”

With quick strides the ex-watcher wandered back into his office. He had his address book open before he had even sat down, his eyes scanning for the number he needed. Grabbing the phone, Wesley dialed the number for the Summers’ household. “Dawn? Is Willow there? Its Wesley.” He listened for a moment to the teenage girl ramble on about Willow’s whereabouts. “She’s not there?” He asked for clarity, unable to sort through the jumble of information she had spurted off in a matter of a few seconds. “Went to visit family? Ok. Thank you, Dawn. Goodbye.”

The dark haired man pressed the button to disconnect the line and waited for a dial tone. His eyes scanned the address book in front of him, finally finding the number he had gained on his recent trip to Sunnydale – Willow’s cell phone. “Hi! This is Willow’s cell phone – leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”

The sound of her voicemail picking up before the phone rang a single time troubled Wesley more than anything. Why would she turn off her cell phone? Why had she left, suddenly it seemed, to visit relations in another city when, as far as he knew, Willow couldn’t stand her family? It seemed too much of a coincidence that she was unreachable at the very same time Angel had experienced the pains.

Sighing, the ex-watcher picked up a copy of the spell he had given Willow, searching for any sign to give him certainty that his theory was correct - the mystery of what had happened to Angel slowly beginning to widen to include the apparent disappearance of one red haired witch from Sunnydale.
 

~Part: 8~

Angel stared down into the crib where his son was sleeping. He had seen so many wondrous things throughout his lifetime – but nothing as beautiful as the infant lying before him. It never seemed enough to thank God for Connor, yet he did so every night, offering up a myriad of thanks for the one good thing that had ever happened to him. The mysterious pains he had felt earlier this evening had worried him deeply. Was something wrong with him? Would he get to see his son grow up? Angel could tell that something had changed – but what exactly that was he couldn’t put his finger on.  He forced a sigh of air through his dead lungs, more out of habit than any real need to do so. His finger traced the outline of his son’s face, and Angel found himself smiling softly.

This was the largest reason he needed to figure out what had happened to him. He couldn’t bear the thought of something being wrong and leaving Connor all alone in the world. Higher reasoning gave him the small reassurance that he was sure Cordelia, Wesley and the others would take care of Connor if anything were to ever happen to him.

But he didn’t want them to ever be put in that role.

‘I sound like a real human parent.’ He laughed silently. ‘Worrying about the future of my child. Wondering if I will be there to see him grow up, get married, and start a family of his own.’ It was wondrous, the connection he felt with this small baby. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced in his entire existence. That worried him, though. The joy that Connor brought to him was pure heaven. Surely one of these days he was bound to have a ‘true moment of happiness’ and lose his soul again. What would happen then?

He brushed a strand of hair off of the baby’s forehead, mulling over the problem that had plagued him ever since he had learned about the true ‘curse ’ aspect of his curse. There had to be a way to make it so that his soul couldn’t take flight the first time he experienced true happiness. It was something he would have to have Wesley check into. He knew the former Watcher had looked for the right spell on and off for years, but there was no time like the present to step up the research.

‘In between trying to figure out what happened to me tonight,’ the vampire smirked, feeling lucky to have someone as devoted as Wesley working for him. Stepping quietly away from the crib, Angel made his way to his own bed. He shed his clothes, slipping on a pair of loose fitting sweats, and climbed under the thin blankets. His mind whirled at a thousand miles a minute, analyzing each and every sensation he had felt earlier that evening.

The pain had been nearly unbearable – a hot pressure that seemed to come from the outside and work its way into every fiber of his being. It had been as though something enormous had been shoved inside his skin and then compressed inside his heart. He hadn’t been lying when he said it was similar to the pain he had felt the night he lost his soul. The only difference was that this had felt like he was being given something, and the other had felt like something was being taken away. ‘I hope its not another Wolfram and Hart plot to make me lose my soul.’ He sighed mentally. ‘I’m getting sort of sick of that.’

He yawned, the events of the day finally too much. Tomorrow would be here soon enough and he could start working on figuring out what had happened.
 

~Part: 9~

Standing outside the doors of the Hyperion, Willow allowed herself a moment to think of what had occurred early that evening. She had bound herself to her friend, for all of eternity it seemed, to secure his soul. She had given up her own happiness, her own chance at love, in exchange for this one miracle. The happiness she felt at being the one to bring the news overshadowed any second thoughts or regrets she may have had. “Too late to regret it anyhow…” She murmured to herself, her hand reaching for the door.

Only to pull it back a moment later.

What was she going to say to Angel? “Oh, by the way Angel, I drove here in the middle of the night to tell you I secured your soul. No…I can’t tell you how. Just trust me that its permanent. By the way…can I stay here and be your moral support?” Her face wrinkled up as she realized how bad it was going to sound. There was so little she would be able to tell him. He was going to have to take her word on blind faith alone. Hopefully he wouldn’t ask too many uncomfortable questions. That would just make things harder. Her tired eyes clouded with tears as she raised her face towards the heavens. “Just let him accept it for now…please?” She realized she had little right to plea for something so petty when she had just been granted nothing short of a miracle from the Powers that Be.

But it was worth trying.

Pushing on the door handle, she walked quietly into the hotel lobby. Her eyes glanced around, curious, as she viewed the place her friends worked in for the first time. ‘This place must really have been something during its time.’ In her tired state she could almost see the illusions of days gone by, people walking through the lobby, talking and laughing. As the illusions walked through her mind she realized how tired and delusional she truly was and shook her head, hoping to be able to rest soon.

The red head looked towards one of the open doorways, pleasantly surprised to see Wesley sitting behind a desk, engrossed in the book in front of him. “Hey Wesley…” Her soft voice carried far in the empty lobby.

Wesley looked up, his eyes widening. Recognizing the voice at once and connecting it with the red head he could barely see through his open doorway. “Willow?” Standing, the dark haired man made his way out to the lobby, surprised and relieved to see the red head standing there. At least the mystery of where she had disappeared to was solved. That was one last thing to worry about. He took a long look at her, startled at what he saw. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked like she had been through Hell. “Are you alright?”

The young woman tilted her head to the side, as if considering the question. “I’m okay, I guess. Angel asleep?” Only once she had been dressed and had eaten something to settle her aching stomach had she decided that telling Angel about his soul over the phone might not be the best idea. This was the sort of news a friend should give in person. She had packed up her things at the hotel, checked out, and driven the hours it took to reach LA.

“Y-Yes…I would imagine so. Its rather late, you know.” He stammered out. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was holding something back. Something important to tell him maybe? Like the anchoring of Angel’s soul now and forever?

Her eyes looked around the lobby of the hotel, taking it all in for the first time. It was truly a beautiful building, though she was sure it had been even more so during the days the hotel had been open. She blinked, her focus on the world rapidly diminishing. She took an unconscious step forward; trying to steady the dizziness she was feeling. “Ah…I guess it is…” She murmured. Her mouth felt dry and the room was suddenly too hot. Maybe she should have taken some time to rest.

“Willow?” Wesley watched, worried, as the red head appeared to sway on her feet. “Would you like to sit do-?” His words were cut off as she stepped one last time, as if trying to center herself, before falling backwards. Without a thought he grabbed at her, catching her arm in time to stop her rapid decent to the floor. Her lower body still hit the hard floor but his grip on her arm kept her from hitting her head.

Letting her gently slide the rest of the way to the floor, the ex-Watcher felt for her pulse, his eyes watching the seconds tick by on his watch as the steady pulsing beneath his fingers continued along the normal lines. He nodded, satisfied by the strong, steady rhythm. Her light breathing filled the air, as though she had done nothing more than fallen asleep. He looked again at the tired lines of her face, the bags beneath her eyes, and decided that there was no reason to worry. She appeared to be nothing more than physically exhausted.

“So I shall just have to wake Angel up and have him help me get her to a bed…” He sighed. The mystery of what had happened to Willow had resurfaced and the only one with the key to it was laying on the floor sleeping.
 

~Part: 10~

Willow opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling above her with confusion. ‘Where am I… How did I get here… Why… ‘ Her thoughts raced on as she tried to recall how she had ended up in this odd room. Nothing came to her immediately. She shifted, feeling the smooth sheets beneath her body, and gasped. Satin sheets? And whose t-shirt was this? Her heart accelerated, feeling tight in her chest as she tried to remember what had happened. Had she relapsed and gone back to dark magick? Was she in some dealer’s bed? Tears sprang to her eyes, her mind too tired to provide even the smallest glimpse of what had happened to her. Nothing about the room looked familiar to her. The little she could see from position provided no clues to the room ’s owner.

“Willow?”

The young woman’s head jerked to the side, her green eyes widening with surprise at the man standing in the doorway of the room. She struggled to sit up, discovering after a brief moment that she didn’t have the strength. “Angel?” Relief fought with confusion. “Where…. How… ?” She sighed, unable to even phrase the questions she needed to ask.

“That’s what we’re wondering.” He gave her a smile, sitting down in a chair next to his bed. “You showed up late last night and practically fell into Wes’s arms. We put you to bed and you’ve slept ever since. Cordelia put one of my shirts on you when she got in this morning” He fought to keep his face from looking as worried as he felt. Wesley had told him, however briefly, of Willow’s addiction to dark magicks. It had come as a shock to find that the former watcher had maintained any type of contact with anyone in Sunnydale and it had come as even a bigger shock to learn that Willow had fallen prey to something so insidious. In his heart, the vampire was worried that Willow had collapsed because of a relapse.

The red head shut her eyes tight, her brow furrowed in concentration. Glimpses of the night before came then, like fragments. She was here to tell Angel…something.

And then it hit her.

His soul. Prayer. Goddess. Bond. Eternity. Forsake.

She gasped, finding enough strength in her urgency to sit up. “I came to… tell you something.”

“If you need help all you have to do is ask, Willow.” Angel implored her, believing he knew what was on her mind. Wesley had offered to help her get through the addiction and so she had come to them at her lowest moment.

“Huh?” Willow leaned back on the pillows, resting her head against the back of the bed. In the back of her mind she realized that this must be Angel’s bed – his satin sheets. She blushed inwardly, hoping the gesture didn’t make it to her face. “Wh—What are you talking about….?”

“Your addiction. Wesley told me.”

Willow groaned. “He did, did he?” She sighed, shutting her eyes again. Her body and mind were still exhausted, drained to the point that she couldn’t really function. She needed to get some more sleep. ‘But… somewhere other than in Angel’s bed…’

“Yes. He did. And I want you to know we’re here for you.” The vampire reached out to pat her hand in reassurance.

And then she laughed.

She knew in her heart that this wasn’t the time for laughter – but it was too much. Here she was to tell him that his soul was permanent and he thought she was here for a help. She shook her head at the confusion on his face, breaking into fresh laughter. “S…Sorry.” She gasped finally. “Its just – that’s not why I’m here at all.”

The dark haired vampire sat back, confused. “It’s not?”

“No, it’s not.” She took a deep breath, mentally bracing herself as best as she could for what was to come.

“It’s about your soul…”

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