E-mail: jjou@mail.med.cornell.edu
Summary: When last we left our heroes, Willow had been savagely transformed
into a vampire hybrid by the Anointed One. Angel rescued her, but it was
too late. She was changed forever. Faking her death in Sunnydale, the two
then left for Europe in search of the Romany clan that gave Angel back
his soul.
~Part: 1~
Transatlantia
Willow stared sullenly out of the window as the plane crossed the Atlantic. She had raised the shade as soon as the sun had set. Angel sat next to her, fighting his growing queasiness of flying.over water. It had been bad in the steam liner in which he had originally traversed the ocean many decades ago, but the added variable of height was also a nuisance. Any change in cabin pressure made his sensitive ears pop. He had tried to be in high spirits for the young girl sitting next to him, but she became increasingly irate the farther they got from Sunnydale.
Obtaining fake passports had proved relatively easy. Angel knew enough people who wouldn't ask questions and Giles had been helpful in taking care of some of the other details. Angel had to clear out his Sunnydale Bank and Trust account in order to pay for the tickets, but he knew where enough money was hidden around the world to ensure that they would be covered in most scrapes.
He leaned back in his seat and glanced at Willow's profile. Despite her fussiness, there was something enormously attractive about her, as if she were becoming more and more beautiful each second..."Stop it," he thought. "She's Buffy's friend and you love Buffy." He knew that it was just the vampiric glamour that made her curves look so appealing; her ripe mouth, so kissable: and the arch of her eyebrows, so provocative and inviting. "This is going to be trouble," he finally concluded.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
She looked at him tartly. "What are we going to do once we get there?"
"We're going to visit a friend."
"Is 'friend' a nice way of saying it's someone who's going to want to take your Quickening?"
Angel laughed, not quite understanding the reference, "No, this is someone I've known for a few years."
"Do you think she can help?" Willow asked, something of her old hopefulness peaking through.
"If not, *he'll* know where else we can go."
They arrived at Charles DeGaulle airport just before dawn, and managed to get a hotel room in Paris before it became too bright. Willow, being a vampire hybrid, was resistant to the sun, but Angel needed the shelter and, until such time as he had trained her in the requirements of her new life, was her only protection against things far worse than sunlight. Angel pushed the bed to the side and cleared a big space in the center of the room.
"I'm fairly good at savate," he said, taking a fighting stance, "So I'm going to teach you a few moves. They're not as fancy as some of the eastern disciplines, but combined with your new strength, they're a good start. Come at me."
Willow looked shocked. "I can't hit you!" she laughed nervously.
"Willow, you're going to be facing things that aren't going to want to be friends. If you're going to survive, you've got to learn at least a little hand-to-hand combat," he said, as gently as possible. But the girl remained horrified. Finally, to prove his point, he jumped at her, thinking just to frighten her. She screamed, but then grabbed him under the arm and, turning his momentum against him, flung him into the ground. As he lay on the floor, looking up at Willow, her mouth gaping in surprise, he realized that whatever had been done to her had made her stronger than him.
~Part: 2~
And Sometimes We Go Dancing
Willow Rosenberg flopped onto the ground, drenched in sweat. Angel sat down next to her; he looked unmussed as usual. There were distinct advantages to being unable either to sweat or breathe. She had mastered a variety of defensive and offensive moves by this point, and Angel felt that there was little more he could teach her in this regard.
"That was good," he said. Willow panted to catch her breath. "Are you thirsty?"
She paused before nodding her head. He reached over to one of his bags and pulled out two blood packs. He tossed one over to her. She held it delicately, as if it were about to explode and looked over at Angel, who now wore his "game" face. Without looking at her, he casually sank his teeth into the plastic and began to suck contentedly. Willow felt an ache in her canines as they elongated. Both fascinated and disgusted, Willow watched and finally spoke up. "Has Buffy ever seen you feed?"
Angel looked up from his meal and realizing what he must have looked like, wiped his mouth off on his forearm. "No," he said.
"Here." He took the blood pack from her. Using his teeth, he tore off the tip and returned it to her. "Until you feel comfortable with the fangs." He smiled that winning smile at her, and the oddity of the situation struck her. She brought the pack up to her mouth as the contents began to drip out. She had tasted blood before, her own blood, when she had bit her lip particularly hard or suffered from a nosebleed. She had not found the taste particularly appetizing then, but there was something sweet and filling in what slid down her throat now. She began to gulp it as if she were chugging a Dew, tilting her head back and squeezing the packet to get every last drop. Finally there was no more and as she licked the residue off the packaging, she noticed that Angel had finished his meal and was watching her with a mix of keen curiousity and something darker. She quickly looked away and put the empty bag down.
"Thank you," she said. He smiled.
After the sun set, he cracked open the window and stuck his head out into the Paris night air. He turned towards her and with a mischievous look said, "Come on." He reached for something above him and a second later had disappeared out the window.
"What are you doing?!" she gasped, running over to the window and looking out to see him rapidly scaling the side of building.
"Come on!" he shouted back. Sighing and looking at the ground five floors below, she reached and grabbed the gargoyle just above their window. She pulled herself out, praying that she didn't fall, but feeling oddly confident that she wouldn't. She slowly negotiated the climb and when she finally reached the roof, Angel was waiting, staring at the moon. Somewhere below, she could hear the sounds of street players assaying on accordion and violin what she thought was the love theme from "Lady and the Tramp." "The French," she thought to herself and rolled her eyes. Angel walked up to her and took her right hand with his left and wrapped his arm around her waist. Willow giggled at his familiarity as they began to move to the music.
"Ah! Stone Face smiles!" he teased. "How are you doing?" he asked, repeating the question she had left unanswered on the plane.
"Well, I think I'm past the stake phase, thank you," she joked, then shrugged. "It's very strange. Just a couple of days ago I was a nice surburban teen with an unhealthy interest in computers and an unfortunate tendency to choose men who were bad for me. Now I'm legally dead and climbing French hotels. It's like some really bad Jackie Collins romance. All I need to do is to inherit my father's company and lose it to unscrupulous underworld types, and then win it back through sheer pluck. Or maybe have a torrid affair with a recovering gambling addict." She had meant that as a joke, but when she looked up at Angel, she found the look in his eyes both discomfiting and warming. There was an awkward silence.
"You aren't wearing a cross or anything, are you?" he finally asked, grinning easily at her.
"No?" she began but was interrupted when he leaned forward and kissed her suddenly on the mouth. She was surprised, but her arms came up around his neck and she kissed him back. However, when they broke apart, she quietly breathed out one word: "Xander."
He nodded, eyes shut. "Buffy," he said in agreement. They stepped away from each other. "Sorry," he rambled, "Uh. Vampires give off a sexual aura. It...uh...makes attracting prey easier. Sorry."
"Let's just find your friend."
"Sorry. It's like...uh...fairy glamour. Things get confusing."
"It's alright."
"Pheromones, or something."
"Right," she said finally. "Pheromones." She began to descend from the gabled roof to the window below. Once Angel was alone, he slapped his palm against his forehead and repeated, "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid," before climbing down himself.
~Part: 3~
Online Villainy and Other Deeply Felt Emotions.
Brother Luca, a distinguished gentlemen of three score and four years with strands of silver in his otherwise jet-black hair, was dressed in a tank top and running shorts and roller-bladed through the open market, stopping now and then to examine the wares of some of the fruit and vegetable vendors. He had found a beautiful spaghetti squash that he planned to serve with a little butter and white wine this evening. The members of his brotherhood, Our Lady of Demonic Assassinations, were particularly lax in observing certain proscriptions recommended by Mother Rome and he felt no guilt in indulging in culinary excess. But Brother Luca had once been Lazlo Hunyadi and he knew his responsibilities.
He had been "on sabbatical" in France since the night the Hellmouth opened in Sunnydale, having escaped from the warriors sent to silence him. Now, he just wanted to relax. He found a nice seat in a sidewalk cafe and ordered a cappucino, while taking out his laptop computer. It was a specially modified PowerBook all the brothers of his order carried that shared the OLODAnet server out of Cortona (a very exclusive Internet Service Provider). He had new email from Colombine Baptista.
"I don't know where you are, old man," it read. "But I'm going to find you and when I do I'm going to snap your head back like a Pez dispenser."
He replied, "Baby, why don't you suck it out of my..." but was interrupted when the waiter arrived with his drink. He finished his thought and sent it, knowing that nothing from OLODAnet could be traced.
The neatest thing about this setup, of course, was the most comprehensive fingering function in the history of technopagan design. He opened the OLODA homepage and clicked on the search function, then inputted the name "Buffy Summers." The hourglass appeared briefly and a smaller window popped up. "Buffy Summers resides in Sunnydale, California. She is currently wearing an attractive spaghetti strap tank top in light blue with a pair of Guess? jeans. Her hair is tied in a ponytail. She is moping around her house, missing her friend Willow and her boyfriend Angel, but she will eventually leave to pick up a box of maxipads. The kind with wings. You are gregarious and well-liked. 1-15-27-28-9-34"
Next he fingered Colombine Baptista and got the following: "Colombine Baptista is currently pleasuring herself with a young toreador from Barcelona whom she will subsequently tear into small, easily digested pieces and feed to her cats. Sarcasm is the defense of the unimaginative. 4-29-16-6-23-24"
Next he fingered Georges Duchenne of Paris: "Georges Duchenne will soon receive visitors. Consequently, he will die. You will find a new love. 8-7-15-10-22-37"
Damn, he thought, switching to the AeroFrance homepage and digging out his credit card. But he knew that Georges would need his help, because once he had been Lazlo Hunyadi and he knew his responsibilities.
* * *
Angel and Willow walked up 7 flights of stairs because the elevator in the building they had gone to was out of order. As they went, Angel explained that the friend they were going to see was related to the gypsies who had cursed Angel and was well versed in the traditions of his people. They did not discuss what had happened on the rooftop, although Willow did catch him periodically throwing surreptitious glances in her direction. He was embarassed, she knew, and she herself was conflicted. The kiss had been chaste enough. "No," she thought defensively, "It wasn't chaste. It was hot." He had kissed her like a grown-up and she had kissed him back. Part of her was ecstatic, "I made him want me, even enough to forget Buffy. And if we had kissed long enough, maybe there would have even been *tongue*!!"
She hadn't had much experience kissing boys, although she had practiced for hours on a teddy bear whose secret name was Xander. Xander. She felt a rush of bitterness as she thought of all the joy and love she had poured into that boy, all of which he had blithely ignored. And where had he been when she needed him? Who had rescued her from the Anointed One's cruelty? Who had nursed her terrible wounds and held her when she woke screaming in the night? Who was now too mortified by his desire to even look at her? Her feelings for Xander were monochromatic compared with the feelings that stirred within her. Maybe now he'll appreciate what he's lost, she thought, a little more cruelly than she had intended. Angel had explained something of this in Sunnydale: because she was acutely sensitive to the world around her in her new state, things would seem bigger; emotions, more important. Angel touched her shoulder and startled her out of her haze.
"We're here," he said.
Angel knocked on the door and she heard a dog bark on the other side. A few seconds later, a muffled voice shouted, "Who's there?"
"It's me," Angel shouted back. There was a pause, then the sound of a latch being taken off its hook and a deadbolt being turned. The door opened and a man looked out into the hallway, saying hopefully, "How can it be you?"
"You're blind!" Willow blurted out.
~Part: 4~
Three Blind Men and an Elephant
The phone rang a few times before Xander Harris answered it. "Hello?" he said, sleepily. He had dreamt that Willow had come to him, terrible in her vampire beauty, and chastised him for ignoring her when she could have been his. He had been dressed as a carrot and said he would take what was behind door number 2. When Willow opened the door, his mother had made a strawberry shortcake out of paper clips. Dreams were like that.
There was a long pause on the other end. "Hello?" he repeated.
"Xander?"
He froze. "Willow?" he asked tentatively.
Then the line went dead. Xander slowly hung up the phone and fell back onto his bed. He thought he had run out of tears, but instead felt their angry sting beginning again.
* * *
It took Willow several minutes to stop shaking, her hand resting on the receiver. Angel had gone into the kitchen with George, and Max, the German Shepherd who had barked when they knocked, sat at her feet looking at her expectantly. "Hey, boy," she said, scratching his head.
In the kitchen, George poured three glasses of lemonade, listening to the sound of the liquid to gauge when each glass was filled. Angel leaned against the refrigerator. "She seems like a lovely girl," George said, "I think this is the first girlfriend I've ever met. How long have you been dating?"
"We aren't dating. We're just friends," Angel said.
"She sounds kind of young."
"She's 23," Angel lied. George threw him a quizzical look.
"She sounds younger," he replied, then shrugged. "Still 23 is pretty young to be dating a guy in his 50's."
Angel laughed, "You are relentless! We aren't dating."
"That's not what it looks like from here," George said teasingly.
"You can't see," Angel reminded him.
"You'd be surprised what I can see," George retorted, picking up the tray on which he had set the glasses and a plate of cookies and taking them into the living room.
"Did you make that call?" George asked Willow.
"They weren't home," Willow replied.
"Angel tells me you're 23," George said, resting the tray on the coffee table. Willow looked to Angel to cue her on the lie, but he had simply slumped into an overstuffed armchair and watched them distractedly.
"Uh, that would be correct," she answered.
"So what's a young girl like you doing with an old man like him?" George joked.
"He's keeping me alive," she said, which made the older man burst out with a loud laugh. "How old are you?"
"I'm 38," he said, still chuckling.
"You look younger," she said, noting that at first glance, George, with his linebacker frame and short, dark hair looked like a former All-American-turned-graduate-student.
He smiled at the compliment. "By the way, Angel..." He got up and headed towards a bookcase. Willow saw by the way he walked that he was counting steps. He took a package off one of the shelves and returned, holding it out in front of him. Angel took the package from him. "Sorry I missed your birthday," George continued, "But you didn't leave a forwarding address last time. Happy 57th, buddy."
Willow looked at Angel in surprise, and he raised a finger to his mouth and silently shushed her. "How do you know Angel?" Willow asked, in an innocent voice.
"Well, when I was young..." George began.
"I was his tutor," Angel finished. "I made a deal with his parents..."
"My mother," George corrected.
"His mother," Angel repeated and grimaced. "It was about 33 years ago."
"He practically raised me. My parents were very wealthy and very interested in other things besides me. Angel left when I was about 12; after that he would call or send letters, birthday presents. The last time we were actually in the same room together was...when?"
"DesMoines, 10 years ago," Angel smiled fondly.
"Have you always been blind?" Willow asked gently, intrigued by whatever game Angel was playing here.
George nodded, "I was born this way." He leaned towards her and whispered conspiratorially, "Tell me. Does he still look as good as he sounds?"
"He's remarkably well-preserved," was the only answer she could think of.
George laughed heartily, then got up and began to head towards the bedroom. Max got up from his spot next to Willow and trudged happily behind him. "I dug up my grandmother's books," he began disappearing through the doorway. "They were stored at my parent's house in Nice, but I had them expressed up here, just like you asked." He reappeared in the doorway with a box, "Unfortunately, they aren't in braille, so I can't tell you which one has what you're looking for. Did I tell you my Uncle Lazlo is coming to visit?"
Angel bristled at the sound of the name, but he took the box from George and answered with remarkable pleasantness, "Is he? Perhaps, I'll get a chance to see him?"
"Well, he told me to meet him tonight at a club called Saracen."
Angel set the box on the chair where he'd been sitting and looked at Willow, then said, "Then maybe a night out would be in order?"
"Whaddaya say, boy?" George said to Max. "Wanna go for walkies?"
Max barked happily and began to chase his tail.
~Part: 5~
There's a Lull in My Life.
"I don't want to ask why he has women's clothing and make-up in his closet," Willow said, stepping out of the bedroom, dressed in a dark suit over a white blouse with wide lapels. Max had been particularly fidgety, so George had taken him on a brief stroll around the block. They had decided to meet in the lobby and walk over to the club a few blocks away.
"I feel like Heidi Fleiss," she grumbled, but the blouse was silk and felt cool against her skin. She had also pinned her hair up in a way that reminded Angel of Buffy and suddenly he ached.
"Don't worry. You look fine," Angel said.
"Am I beautiful?" she asked coyly.
"You look like you won't get carded," he said, trying to ignore the small thrill he felt at the inadvertantly seductive glance she threw him.
"Am I as beautiful as Buffy?" she continued. She began to unbutton the top of the shirt slowly, exposing her cleavage. He walked over to her and stopped her hands from undoing the next button. The look she gave him was hardly inadvertant now. "Help me," she breathed, encouraging his fingers to unfasten the rest of the shirt. He pulled his hands away from hers and then buttoned the shirt up again, gently saying, "What are you doing?"
Willow suddenly felt disoriented and sick. What was she doing? The proximity of Angel's body to hers also disturbed her. What had she been doing?! Then she felt the first wave of nausea hit her and she pushed Angel away and rushed into the bathroom. She had eaten nothing and was wracked with dry heaves for several minutes. Angel sat next to the bathroom door, waiting for her to come out. He knew there was nothing he could say to her at the moment. He heard running water and a few seconds later the door opened. Her face had the ruddy glow of someone who had scrubbed off her tears. She did not look at him as she walked to the front door, and out.
* * *
"Did something happen?" George asked Angel as they walked towards Saracen. George held Max's leash in his left hand, his folded cane in his right. Angel had taken his right arm and was leading him towards the club. Willow followed about 10 steps behind, looking away quickly whenever Angel turned around to check on her. One to one, he thought, calculating the balance of embarassment so far this evening.
"I just forget how young she is sometimes," Angel explained. George nodded, understanding.
"Saracen is one of three safe houses in France," George began. "No one knows who owns it, but I assume it's someone with a great deal of power who can enforce the 'no blood spilled' rule."
Angel listened intently. Lazlo Hunyadi clearly wanted to meet on neutral ground, meaning he was probably being pursued. Meaning he was probably being pursued by Colombine Baptista. None of this reassured him, recalling his last encounter with Colombine. Even at his most savage, she had almost kill him.
"How much does she know?" George asked, meaning Willow. "About the magick? Does she know she's in danger just by being associated with us?"
"She's under my protection," Angel said, the tone in his voice brooking no argument. A neon sign flashing over a dingy orange door in the wall indicated that they had found the club. There was no line and a thickly built man stood guard.
"Good evening," the man said, in French, "You are lucky to come so very early. There is no crowd as yet, but we expect their prompt arrival a little after 2 am. 10 francs each, please, and the dog must remain on his leash. Your friend looks a little young."
"She's a model. The adolescent girl look is very hot now," Angel replied, also in French.
"Bonjour," Willow said, in her best high school French. The bouncer smiled at her warmly.
"Alright, but you must chaperone her and she is to have no alcohol," he said to Angel. He then opened the door and ushered them in.
The bouncer had not lied. The club was fairly empty and a mediocre cage dancer was thrashing about on the stage. Angel did not see Hunyadi anywhere, but offered to get the three drinks, surrepitiously indicating Willow to follow him to the bar.
"We should talk," he said.
"There's nothing to say," Willow said, looking down at her feet. "I made a complete and total fool of myself in the apartment."
"Just like I made a complete and total fool of myself on the roof?" Angel suggested.
"That's different."
"How?"
Willow shrugged, then after a pause, "I wanted you on the roof, but you didn't want me in the apartment."
"I explained why..." Angel began.
"Pheromones, I know, I know," Willow interrupted, "I thought maybe you wouldn't need pheromones to like me. And in the apartment, it seemed so right...I felt so beautiful...and then it was like I woke up...and you didn't want me...and I wasn't beautiful."
She was becoming agitated and Angel put a hand on her shoulder. "You are beautiful." This calmed her some. "When I was made, I had lived something of a life. I had known love and hardship and those things that make us adults. But when the Anointed One took you, you were still very much a young girl and suddenly you were thrown into a world filled with complicated adult emotions. It would have been easier if you had just let the demon take over, but you were strong and you fought. I didn't. In a way, I'm kind of jealous of you."
"Really?" she said, wiping away her tears. He smiled and nodded at her.
"Even when I was throwing up?" she said, with a small laugh. He chuckled and nodded again.
"God, why hast thou cast me into Seventh Heaven?" a voice from the stage said. "May I have a spot, please?" Suddenly, a bright white light blinded the two at the bar. Max began to growl, as did Angel. They could see the outline of the cage dancer striding confidently to the edge of the stage. "Hi, baby. Momma's missed her honey bunny."
"Colombine," Angel snarled.
~Part: 6~
Why Willow Will Not Be Returning to Saracen.
Willow knew by the distorted features of her face that the woman on stage was a vampire. This chick's got muscle tone, she thought, stunned by the 6 ft woman in the black lycra work out outfit, She's like an American Gladiator!
"Who's she?" Willow whispered.
"Don't say anything. Whatever she does, don't panic. She can't hurt us here," Angel instructed her tersely. Colombine did a round-off off the stage, then ran a long-fingered hand through her short spikey hair, the three silver hoops in her right ear jangling in the light. Five large men fell in behind her as she approached the bar. Willow assumed they were vampires as well.
"What's going on?" George asked, as he tried to calm Max, who was pulling at his leash.
"Go ahead," Colombine said to Angel, "Tell him what's going on."
Not taking his eyes off her, Angel said calmly, "It's okay, George. Just stay where you are. Remember, we're in the club." Angel stopped as two of the vampires stood over the blind man. Max began to bark viciously, staring at the two menacing figures. Angel knew they wouldn't hurt him as long as he was in the club, but nothing prevented the two demons from dragging George outside. The situation needed to be defused quickly. "We're not looking for trouble."
Colombine shrugged indifferently, "I might be."
"Who's this?" she continued, looking at Willow, but speaking to Angel. "Dennis the Menace has been faxing all the major sects to be on the look out for you. Is this his little Slayer-killer? Dennis wants you back, little Slayer-Killer. Is she a good lay? She looks like she knows a few tricks. She'd have to, to keep you satisfied." She slipped her hand under Willow's jaw and dragged her close. Willow was frozen as she felt the woman's hot breath on her face. "Little Slayer-Killer, are you a good lay?"
Angel forced his way between the two women, baring his fangs at Colombine. "That's enough."
She grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground. "How dare you show your temper to your betters!"
" 'No blood spilled,' " Angel croaked out, reminding her of the principal tenet of the safe house.
"I don't need to spill your damn blood to hurt you," she hissed at him, squeezing his throat hard enough to draw a grimace out of him.
"What's going on?" George repeated, the fear rising in his throat. Max's barking reached a fevered pitch and George struggled to hold on to the dog.
"Put him down!" Willow finally said, trying desperately to sound like Buffy.
Colombine sneered at her. "I'm playing with him. You can play with my Wolves. I'm sure they'd like to find out how good a lay you are." The other vampires leered and snickered sinisterly at the comment, and Willow struggled to remember Angel's training earlier that evening.
Suddenly, a great calmness settled over her. What happened next she would later remember in a vague, third-person way, but Willow felt her hand move with blinding speed. She saw Angel's eyes grow wide as her fingers closed around the three large earrings in Colombine's ear, and she heard the other woman scream as she yanked. Curiously, Willow felt nothing except amazement at how easily the flesh had yielded.
Colombine released her grip on Angel and he landed on his feet. Her hand flew up to cover the explosion of blood, although the wounds had already begun to heal over.
Suddenly, the bouncer at the door appeared and said in French, "It is regrettable that you have chosen to reject this house's protection. In the interest of courtesy, I must ask you to leave..." But he didn't finish his thought as Angel grabbed Willow and threw her in George's direction, "Run!" he shouted, throwing a right cross into the dazed Master Vampire's jaw.
"Kill that bitch!" Colombine screamed, shaking off Angel's punch, "Bring me her dust!"
Willow reached for George, but one of the two vampires watching him leapt at her. There was a thwock and it fell away. A voice from the door shouted, "Leave him there! He's still protected! GET OUT!"
Brother Luca, a.k.a. Lazlo Hunyadi, stood at the door, loading another bolt into his crossbow. The girl looked at him and then ran past him, throwing a glance back at Angel, who was suddenly obscured from view as Colombine and two other vampires threw themselves on top of him. Brother Luca raised to fire again but was pushed out of the way by two vampires giving chase to Willow. "Get her! Get her!" Colombine screamed, as she pounded her fists into the vampire struggling beneath her.
George was completely disoriented. He had heard his uncle's voice shouting and Angel's voice shouting and the sound of a struggle, but turned his head in multiple directions trying to locate the fight. Max, howling desperately, broke free from George's grip, dragging the leash behind him, and ran after the two vampires pursuing Willow.
She hadn't been paying attention and found herself trapped in a dead-end alley. "Oh, no!" she murmured, under her breath, but as the two moved against her, she whirled and planted a foot into the gut of one and followed up by catching another with a haymaker punch that sent him into a row of garbage cans. She marvelled at her strength and grace and wondered if Buffy would have been impressed. In her moment of distraction she felt the other vampire grab her and pin her arms behind her. The one who had landed in the garbage cans picked himself up and grabbed a broken piece of crate that he then broke into a pointed end. Willow struggled against her captor as the other approached her brandishing the improvised stake.
Suddenly Max rounded the corner and with a growl leapt at the armed vampire, biting fiercely at the demon's throat. Willow took the opportunity to plant her foot heavily into the shin of the vampire holding her. She heard the bone crunch under her kick and brought her elbow up into his nose with another satisfying crunch. As the vampire staggered away, howling in pain and blinded, she fell to the ground and rolled forwarded, grabbing the dropped stake and thrusting it upwards as the wounded vampire fell on top of her. There was a light scream and then a shower of dust fell on her. She turned to the other in time to see it grab the leash dangling from Max's neck.
"No!" she screamed running towards the struggling pair, but the vampire yanked Max off him by the leash and swung the dog around, knocking Willow unconscious. The dog howled in terror as the vampire grabbed the scruff of his neck and proceeded to beat him again and again against the opposite wall. Finally it dropped him and Max laid on the ground breathing sporadically and whimpering. The vampire started towards Willow, but the sound of the fighting had attracted people and it could hear the voices and sirens quickly approaching. Frightened, it leapt onto a fire escape above and scurried away over the rooftops.
Brother Luca had grabbed George under the arm and made ready to escape the club with him, but George asked, "What about Angel?"
"He can take care of himself!" Luca said, but George resisted, "No, he needs help!"
Brother Luca sighed and cursed Colombine in the name of the laughing gods. He then pushed George out the door. "Okay, I'll do what I can to keep them here and help him! Go! I'll catch up!" George heard the slam as Lazlo barred the club's door behind him. George heard fighting and shouting nearby and, tapping madly with his stick, headed towards it, calling for Max. He was one of the first to reach the alley, and he heard the animal's pained whimpering. "Max?" he said; the dog barked weakly. George felt his way to him, resting his hand on the dog's body, feeling the slowing rise and fall of his rib cage.
"Max!" he screamed. The dog whined. "It's okay, boy. It's okay," he continued, stroking the animal gently. "Someone, help!" he shouted, "Please! Someone, help!" But he knew it was too late: the dog's body was broken beyond repair and there was a warm stickiness under his fingers.
Willow stirred; she had heard the sound of someone shouting and opened her eyes slowly to see George hunched over something on the ground. Although she couldn't see the object, she knew what it was, and slowly dragged herself into an upright position, leaning back against the wall. She started to speak until she saw the image of three ghostly white wolves slowly materialize out of thin air. They were insubstantial, with bright red eyes, and circled the blind man cradling the dying dog, finally raising their heads in unison and howling silently before fading into nothing. George, sobbing uncontrollably, had been ignorant of their presence, but Willow, dazzled by the strange sight, spoke quietly, "George?"
He turned towards her voice. "Willow?" he said, suddenly sounding very tired, "He's dead."
~Part: 7~
The Sad Thing About Violence is that Someone Always gets Hurt
Angel woke with a dull throb in the back of his skull. He was tied to a wooden chair with heavy chains and he could feel the shackles on his wrists and feet. He tried to wiggle his fingers, but grimaced. Broken. He ran a tongue over his teeth and counted the number missing, but those were even now slowly growing back. He tested the strength of the chains.
"Don't bother. They're forged to resist your strength," Colombine said, emerging from the shadows. "The Norse Gods bound the wolf Fenris with something similar."
"Thanks for the history lesson," Angel replied. Colombine smacked him sharply across his face, cracking his cheekbone.
"Smart ass," she chided. "I'd forgotten how fun you were to torture. Won't scream. Won't cry. Won't tell me why you were looking for Luca." She leaned forward and gently took his ear in her mouth, then bit through it. Angel stifled a shout. "Won't tell me where that little bitch who hurt me would hide."
Then she tugged on his ear, the punctures already closed over, "But heals so fast and tastes as sweet as a ripe peach.
"Should I send my Wolves to the apartment of the blind boy? We've been watching him, you know. That's how we knew where you'd be tonight. Would she be there?"
"You wouldn't be able to get in without an invitation," Angel challenged.
"Maybe, but they can't stay there forever and I can wait. It's been awhile since I've tasted blind-boy."
"Leave him alone!" he exploded, "If you hurt either of them, you better be damned sure that you kill me!" He lunged at her, but, constrained by the chains, he instead toppled over in the chair.
She towered over him. "You have nothing with which to threaten me. You have nothing."
"Well, I've always got my pride," Angel said, weakly sarcastic.
Her expression changed to something almost tender and she shook her head as she lifted him back upright, "No, you've lost your pride. Your spirit is polluted. Once upon a time, you ran with the Three and were a man to be reckoned with. Now you're prematurely old and addled. It would almost be a kindness to put you out of your misery.
"But I need you. I need that girl. The Anointed wants her back and I intend to return her, as dust. Had he wanted a Slayer-Killer, he should have petitioned me for one of my Wolves," she said, indicating the large vampires flanking her. "Professional courtesy demanded it. I've a reputation to protect."
"As a raving lunatic?" Angel ventured. She punched him in the chest and he felt his sternum shatter.
"How sad you make me feel," she said, then turned to one of her bodyguards as she left the room, "Bring me something cute and furry to ease this pain."
* * *
The police had insisted on transporting George and Willow to the emergency room, the apparent victims of a failed mugging. The gendarme who had covered Max's body had praised the dog as a true hero. George had said nothing.
It had taken some subterfuge to convince the doctors to leave Willow alone, but eventually she realized that if she shrieked loudly whenever the stethoscope approached her, the doctor would back away and say something in French. Eventually it was decided that they would only clean some of the minor scrapes that seemed already to be healing. Now they sat in the waiting room, George in silence and Willow pondering their next move.
Finally, George spoke, "What happened tonight?"
"We were attacked in that club and Max died saving me."
"No, nothing should have happened in that club. We were protected so long as no one spilled blood."
Willow was flabbergasted. She now understood the impact of what she had done to the female vampire and the bouncer's words as she had fled. It had all been her fault. "Why didn't anyone tell me this?"
George was quiet. "I assumed Angel would have told you."
There was a pause. "What was he fighting in there?" George asked.
Willow considered it and decided that there had been enough secrecy. "Vampires," she answered.
George sat straight up. "Angel isn't strong enough to fight vampires!" he said, concern in his voice. "He's 57 years old!"
"You don't seem to be too shocked about the vampire thing," Willow offered, "And your uncle looked older and he seemed to be doing alright."
"That's different. Lazlo's been trained to fight them," George said harshly
"Well, Angel is strong enough to fight vampires. And he's a lot older than 57," Willow blurted out, immediately regretting her haste.
George was stunned. "How much older?" No answer. "Willow, how much older?"
She didn't speak.
"He isn't human, is he?" George asked slowly.
"Yes, he is!" she piped up, then quickly added, "In all the ways that matter, yes, he is." Then she explained Angel's history as she understood it. When she finished, George sat silently, processing this new information. She started to speak, when someone burst through the waiting room doors.
"There you are! Oh, my nephew, my niece! Thank God you're safe!" It was Lazlo Hunyadi, looking the worse for wear and speaking loudly so that the police officers who had lingered could hear him. He embraced the two and whispered to them, "Play along. I'm here to get you out. There is much we must plan."
~Part: 8~
The Truth about Willows and Angels
Upon arriving back at his apartment, George collapsed from exhaustion. Willow and Lazlo put him in bed then sat in the living room, speaking quietly.
"Do you think he'll be okay?" Willow asked.
"In time," Lazlo said, sipping delicately at the hot tea in his cup.
"What happened to Angel?" Willow asked, hoping that somehow he had managed to escape from the club or was still alive. How could she face Buffy again if he had died protecting her? Then she stopped herself: it was unlikely that she would ever see Buffy again. And if something had happened to Angel, then she would do the only thing left for her: she would destroy everyone who had hurt him. This last thought startled her. When had she wished anyone's destruction before? Well, maybe Cordelia's.
"They managed to escape with him. He didn't look very good, but he wasn't dust," Lazlo said, pulling his laptop out of his backpack. "A minor blessing, I guess, depending on what Colombine has planned for him."
"Who was that woman?" Willow said, "She was inhuman."
"She's the Master Vampire of a sect called Hecate's Wolves. Do you know who Hecate is?
"She's a Greek Witch Goddess. Something about crossroads?" Willow said, remembering her cousin Marvin's AD&D fixation, grades 7 to 12.
Lazlo shrugged. "Anyway, she began the Wolves when she lost the Three to a Master Vampire who was traveling to the New World."
"She knew the Three?" Willow said, remembering when Buffy had told her about her fight with them and how it had precipitated Buffy's finding out about Angel's vampireness.
"She trained the Three," Lazlo said, typing in his password. "She's ruthless and vicious. Her cruelty is mindless; she is a rabid dog who must be put down."
"I take it then you two don't get along," Willow suggested.
Lazlo looked at her intently, "No, we two don't get along. You know my blood is Rom?"
"Yes," Willow said, "Angel brought us here to find the Rom."
"Why?" Lazlo asked, suddenly suspicious.
Willow told him her story: how she had been taken by the Anointed One in Sunnydale, how he had tortured her, how he had turned her into something inhuman...how Angel had rescued her, and how he had brought her here to find some way to keep the evil in her blood from destroying her soul. She also told him about the dark feelings that had plagued her since their arrival in France.
Lazlo was incredulous. "So he thought we could return your soul to you?"
Willow shook her head, "No, he says I still have my soul, but that we have to find some way to anchor it or else I'll lose it."
Lazlo sighed heavily. "We cannot anchor your soul for you; we never restored Angel's soul."
Willow's jaw dropped. "But there was a curse...he killed a gypsy girl and the elders cursed him with his soul...he said so!"
"Yes, I know. My grandmother was one of the elders who cursed him. Little girl, if the Rom went about fulfilling every curse we cast upon people, most of Hungary would be populated by transmogrified toads, and most likely, so would half the Rom. The way my grandmother told me the story, a young vampire killed one of our girls; the people were upset so they decided to make him feel bad. Told him that the punishment for her life would be a stain on his soul. Then he started shaking about and ran off into the woods."
"But Angel is good! He's saved me and my friends many times!" Willow protested.
"He's good because deep down he chose to be good. I find it very admirable that given his circumstances, he decided to make such a dramatic life-change."
Lazlo suddenly waxed philosophical. "Where does it say you have to have a soul in order to be good? All humans have souls; look how hard we struggle to be good. Most times we do the best we can." He began to type furiously into his computer. "I blame those Watchers, with their nice little black and white world."
"Are you saying that Angel changed because the Gypsies laid a guilt trip on him?" Willow said, completely flummoxed by Lazlo's cavalier attitude.
"Having never met my grandmother, you wouldn't know how remarkably persuasive she could be," he said.
"So there's no magic?" Willow sputtered out. What would they do now? Where had all her dark feelings come from?
"No, there's magick," Lazlo said. "That boy in there," he continued, nodding towards the closed bedroom door, "That's magick. Bad juju if you mess with him."
"How does he fit in all of this?" Willow asked, realizing that the answer would probably only confuse the situation even more.
"That boy was dedicated to Hecate when he was born. We owed her a favor and she needed a human conduit to stay in the mortal realm. I assume you saw the wolves?"
Willow nodded, remembering the apparitions that appeared when Max died, "So he's her?"
"No, he's like a pool. She comes and takes a dip now and then, then goes gallivanting around. The clothes you were wearing earlier? Those were hers."
Another surprise. She had worn a goddess' clothes? "And Angel?"
"George's mother left the clan to marry some French man who went to the States. The clan followed them briefly and in that time, Angel found us, demanding to know what we had done to him. We told him what had really happened, but he was insistent and inconsolable. He told us we were lying to him. George was about 5 and nasty things started to sniff around him. We decided he needed a bodyguard and convinced Angel that if he did this for us, it would soothe his torment. And for a while, it did. You should have seen George light up whenever Angel would carry him around. He was always a very lonely little boy. He was born blind, you know."
"Why didn't you tell him that Angel was a vampire?"
"He was very young. We thought to tell him later, but as he got older, it became harder and harder. And we thought, 'Well, how's he going to know the difference?' So we let it go. Our mistake, I know."
Willow quickly thought about matters. None of this was going to help her get Angel back, if he was still alive. "What are you doing?" she asked looking over his shoulder at his desktop.
"Finding your friend," Lazlo replied, then read the window, "Angelus is currently being held in an abandoned hunting lodge outside of Paris." Lazlo quickly scribbled down the directions as well as the fortune attached to the message, "Necessity is the mother of invention. 12-34-40-29-18-2."
There was a sudden beep as Lazlo received new email.
"I have your friend. attached: angel.bmp"
Hesistantly, Lazlo double-clicked the attachment. Willow looked, then turned away quickly. Lazlo sighed, seeing the glass half-full, "Well, it certainly demonstrates a great deal of creativity with a razor blade."
~Part: 9~
Willow bending in the Wind
She bounded down the stairs of the hotel she and Angel were staying at, Angel's bag thrown over her shoulder. She had thrown on a pair of blue jeans and a leather jacket she had found in Angel's luggage. Apparently he had packed several. Lazlo had waited on with the street with the motor running, and as Willow got into the car, asked, "Did you get what you were looking for?"
"Yes," she said, placing her hand on the bag gently. If Colombine had hurt him as badly as she feared, Willow hoped that the blood packs Angel had brought would be enough. He had also had the foresight to pack a few necessities such as stakes in the eventuality they encountered trouble of the vampiric kind. She was concerned about the upcoming battle, but even if they failed at least Lazlo had lent Willow his PowerBook long enough to spam Colombine mercilessly and to empty out all of tha vampire's Swiss Bank Accounts on multiple copies of Zamfir's Greatest Hits and The Sounds of the '80's.
Lazlo pulled out of his space and headed towards the border of town.
"I don't get it," Willow began, "If George is dedicated to Hecate and Colombine runs Hecate's Wolves, shouldn't we all get along or something?"
"Wolves are Hecate's creatures. One of them, at any rate. In her mortal life, Colombine served Hecate, but when she was made, Colombine decided to serve herself. She chose the name to irritate the goddess, who didn't endorse Colombine's pretention."
"So what's the plan?" she asked, putting her hair up with a scrunchy.
"Well, we're going to go to this hunting lodge and get Angel."
"And?"
"That's it, I'm afraid," Lazlo said, "I'm making this up as we go along."
"They're probably waiting for us," Willow suggested, cracking her knuckles.
"True, but we've got little choice. I'm not sure what else she can do to him without killing him."
"Well, what do we have? Angel packed some blood and a couple of stakes," she offered helpfully.
"We'll need those. In my trunk, I've got a couple of swords of various lengths, stakes, a crossbow, longbow, a quarterstaff, bullwhip, a couple of vials of holy water, some napalm. Do you know how to use any of those?"
"The holy water, I guess," she said, remembering how she had saved Giles from Darla by throwing it on her face. Lazlo was unimpressed. "Angel taught me a little hand-to-hand?"
"When?" he queried.
"Today."
"Great," he said, sounding exasperated.
"He said I was really good!" Willow said, slightly hurt by Lazlo's doubt in her abilities.
"Little girl, if we survive this, the first thing we do is teach you how to use everything in that trunk. There's no excuse for this level of ignorance." Lazlo seemed visibly annoyed. "We have one other advantage."
"What?" Willow asked.
"You." Willow looked at him quizzically. He continued, "If what you say the Anointed tried to make you is correct, you're going to be tougher than any one of those vampires."
"Angel did tell me he thought I was stronger than he was!" Willow said, remembering the hip throw that had started off the day's training.
"Okay," Lazlo said, focused intently on the road before them. "Let's look at the other side: they have numbers and strength. But they also have a loon as their leader. You hurt her before because she underestimated you. Let's hope she does it again. She's arrogant enough to want a rematch. Do you think you can take her?"
"I don't know. She beat Angel," Willow said nervously.
"She beat him with the help of two large goons," Lazlo corrected. "Angel, Angel, Angel. Let me tell you something, contrary to popular opinion, Angel is hardly the apex of vampire ferocity. You stay in this world long enough, and you'll see things that'll make Angel look like Rainbow Brite."
"I had a Rainbow Brite doll!" Willow said, latching onto to something familiar.
"I'll take it to my grave," Lazlo replied. "I ask you again: if I get the goons off your back, can you take her?"
"I'll try," Willow finally said.
Lazlo gave her a measuring look. "There's a killer inside you, little girl," he said, his voice suddenly very deep and resonant. "When you were made a vampire, it was like giving that killer a gun. When the Anointed One tried to make you more powerful than a Slayer, it was like giving that killer the panic button. You and I may both die tonight. I would prefer not to, as I have engagements later in the month, but I cannot think of better company." He turned back to the road and floored the accelerator.
The rest of the trip was silent. Willow prayed quietly that if anything happened to her, that God or whoever would watch over Buffy and Xander, and Giles and Angel, and Ms. Calendar, and even Cordelia.
* * *
They hid the car a good mile from where they needed to go and took to the woods to approach the lodge as surreptitiously as possible. Lazlo had surprised her by pulling out a handful of large plastic syringes he had stolen from the hospital when he had picked them up. Filled with holy water now, they were conveniently hidden on her person for ready access. There had been some activity in the woods and the lake next to the lodge and Willow had found it remarkably simple to overcome the Wolves she encountered. Punch-flip-stake seemed to work very well against them and she wondered at the reputation they had acquired as fierce warriors. Lazlo had watched her kills with keen interest and complimented her form. From his point of view, she moved with the grace and speed of a cheetah. She may not win, but she would put up a hell of a fight.
The lodge turned out to be very large. "This lodge used to be a four star hotel," Lazlo explained, "Foreign dignataries. Movie stars. A rash of murders pretty much killed it. People were disappearing; they thought they were lost in the lake, but it's too deep and murky to be dragged. I'm not surprised Colombine would be here. They say it's haunted."
They reconnoitered the area carefully and noted that in the chapel, a tall, decrepit building separate from the rest of the lodge, they could see Angel through one of the clerestory windows, hanging from a rafter bound to a large crucifix with heavy chains. They counted only 12 vampires in all around the perimeter. Lazlo assured Willow that there wouldn't be anymore. Hecate's Wolves were known for being particularly unsociable. Slowly, they climbed their way onto the roof of the main hall
Lazlo took a grenade from his bag, "You ready?"
Willow nodded. Lazlo counted to three, then threw the grenade into a cluster of three vampires. It exploded, sending body parts in multiple directions that burst into fine dust as they flew through the air. The noise drew the attention of the nearby vampires, who ran towards the commotion. Scurrying across the roof, Lazlo positioned himself over the main entrance to the chapel and shot at the vampires with his crossbow.
Willow in the meanwhile, had grabbed the edge of the slanted roof, came up in the perfect handstand, then swung down through the clear glass of the window below. She found herself instinctively curling into a ball as she fell and uncurled in time to land on her feet. She spun around to look at Angel hanging 30 feet in midair. He moved weakly when he saw her land. She wondered how she would get him down: there were a couple of broken pews that she could propel herself off of and try to grab him, she guessed. She moved to implement her plan, but then she heard the low growling above. Looking up into the rafters she saw Colombine, terrible and fearsome, emerge from the shadows and stand confidently on the beam from which the crucified Angel dangled. "I was wondering when you would show up," Colombine smirked. "How do you like your boyfriend's new look?"
Willow could make out two large vampires lurking in the shadows of the rafters. "I think I could do without it," she said, trying to choke back her fear. "Give me a sec." She planted her foot on one end of a pew, raising the other end perpendicular to the ground. Willow then hopped onto a piece of bench of the ground and pushed off, landing on the raised edge of the first. She pushed off again, sending the pew crashing back into the ground as she spun up and landed on the same beam with Colombine.
"Very nice. Very acrobatic," the other woman said. Willow sensed a movement behind her, she reached into her sleeve and pulled out a syringe, yanking off the safety tip and stabbing it into the vampire that crept up on her. Pushing down the plunger, she could hear the creature bellow as she injected holy water into its stomach. She turned to face it and saw smoke billowing out of its mouth as it began to vomit ash. She kicked it in the face, knocking him off the rafter and to the ground, where it completely disintegrated. The other vampire leapt at her and she avoided it by jumping off the beam, grabbing it, yanking the chain that held up the cross, and swinging back onto the beam. She pulled another syringe out and plunged it forward into the vampire's skull. It shrieked as its brain disintegrated, ash falling out its ears, and fell off the rafter to join its brother below. Colombine watched it all with a mix of thrill and distraction.
"Don't bother trying to break the chains," Colombine said, ignoring the deaths of her two bodyguards. "Even I couldn't break those chains."
Colombine took a step forward and Willow heard the rafter creak. She knew what she had to do. "It's too bad you don't have any Mentos or something," Willow said, "Because if you ate enough of them maybe you could think of a way to beat me!"
"That made sense," Colombine responded sarcastically.
"Sorry, the tough repartee is new to me," Willow said.
"It's alright," Colombine shrugged. "I'm still going to rip your head off, but it's alright."
"Whatever," Willow shouted, again jumping off the beam but this time grabbing the cross and Angel. Angel's eyes flew wide in pain as she clung to him; Colombine screamed and slashed downward with her claws, but Willow spun the cross around and Colombine hit the other side, pulling her hand away quickly as the cross seared her flesh.
Up close Willow cringed to see Angel's face; one eye swollen shut, a ragged scar where Colombine has slashed his face open from the corner of his mouth to the top of his ear. He was whimpering softly through the gag, and Willow whispered gently into his ear, "Trust me."
Legs locked around his waist, she fell back, hearing her spine pop in a most indelicate way until she was looking at his manacled feet. The chains wouldn't break, but maybe the cuffs would, so she pulled at one cuff until she felt the metal give way under her strength. She continued to spin the cross as Colombine tried to figure out which side to strike at. Finally the woman on the rafter leapt off and hurled herself towards the wall, bouncing off and heading straight at Willow. By this point, Willow had broken open the other cuff and freed Angel's feet. She saw Colombine coming and swung the manacles out at her, smashing them into her face and knocking her to the ground below.
Willow pulled herself upright and reached for the chain holding the cross to the rafter, but instead of trying to break it, she grabbed it and pulled herself up, throwing quick punchs into the heavy wooden beam until it began to give way. With a groan, it collapsed and the two fell to the ground landing with a heavy thud. Angel had sensed what she had planned to do and adjusted himself, despite the pain, so that he would absorb the brunt of the impact. He felt his spine break as they hit the ground, then passed out.
Willow pulled herself up and looked at Angel. The fall had loosened the chains, maybe she would be able to unwrap them...Suddenly, a hand grabbed her by the hair and yanked a her head back.
"You're very good, little Slayer-Killer," Colombine snarled, a large gash on her face where Willow had struck her. "Your blood will make me strong."
Willow lifted up her jeans leg and yanked off the syringe taped to her calf, stabbing her hand back hoping to hit Colombine, but Colombine had anticipated the move and grabbed her wrist. The two struggled. "Nice try," Colombine whispered into Willow's ear. Willow screamed as the other woman's teeth tore into her throat. She could feel her life slipping out of her. How could she fail Angel like this? How could she fail herself? She struggled to strike Colombine with the syringe, but as she grew weaker, there was only one thing to do. She used the force of Colombine's pushing her wrist away to stab herself with the needle, forcing the contents into her own bloodstream.
It was like she had injected acid under skin. Willow shrieked in pain, but it was nothing like the sound that came out of the Master Vampire as she tasted the poisoned blood. Colombine felt her tongue burn away and her jaw begin to fall off. Willow focused on the pain and knocked Colombine away. Because she was not a full vampire, the holy water had not harmed her as powerfully. Colombine rolled on the floor, clawing at the burning in her throat. Willow stood up, her head feeling like it was about to burst, and struggled over to a tall candlelabra standing next the pulpit. She brought the heavy object over and smashed it into Colombine's face repeatedly, leaving a mess of bone and flesh, then stabbed it through the woman's stomach, planting it deeply into the earth.
"Don't go anywhere. I'm not done with you," she said, heading towards Angel's prostrate form.
* * *
It had taken some time to undo the chains and transfer them to Colombine. Thank God, he's unconscious, Willow had thought, imagining Angel's terrific agony. It had also taken her some time to locate heavy-duty security locks and a trunk in the main lodge large enough and sturdy enough to hold the bound vampire , but that having been done, she dragged it towards the little pier that extended out onto the adjacent lake. She saw Lazlo nowhere, and that was fine. She didn't need him to see what she was about to do. They got to the edge of the dock and Willow set about fastening the last few chains around the trunk. She pounded on the lid, waking the vampire within, who began to beat futilely against the trunk.
"I know you can hear me," Willow said. "Just one thing: I want you to imagine how long it's going to take the water to eat through your spine and kill you."
Then she pushed the trunk off the pier and into the water below.
* * *
She picked up her bag on her way back to the church and found Angel barely conscious on the ground where she had left him. She knelt beside him, gently brushing his hair away from his eyes.
"Is she gone?" Angel asked, weakly.
She nodded. He looked towards the ceiling. "Willow," he said in a voice very much like a wounded little boy, "It hurts."
~Part: 10~
Everytime we say Goodbye
Angel bit down on the empty blood pack in his mouth to keep from screaming as Willow broke his leg. It was necessary to reset it correctly, but nevertheless she regretted causing him more pain. She had meticulously gone through this process over his entire body, fixing things that had healed improperly.
There were empty blood packs strewn across the floor and Angel felt a little better. He had forgotten how adept Colombine was at torture. Had been, he corrected himself. She was dead now. Willow had killed her.
"It's alright," he said, his speech a little slurred as he slowly regained fine motor control of the jaw muscles Colombine had slashed through with her razor blade. He was stunned by the change in Willow. There was a worldiness about her now that he had not noticed before, and combined with her youthful beauty, he found himself wanting to stroke her cheek tenderly. Then he realized that that was what he was doing.
She smiled and took his hand into hers, massaging the inside of his palm with her thumbs. "Buffy," she reminded him.
"Yeah," he agreed, his eyes not leaving hers.
* * *
Lazlo had found them late the next morning inside the derelict church, in a little makeshift shelter Willow had constructed out of broken pews and some cloth to protect Angel from the light. He was sleeping on his side; she, curled against his body, her arm thrown protectively around him. Lazlo kicked her foot gently and she stirred. Her eyes grew wide with delighted surprise at seeing the old monk and she pulled away from Angel carefully so as not to wake him. She got up.
"Why don't you two get a room?" Lazlo smirked, looking at her disheveled appearance.
"What..." Willow began, then added quickly, "Oh, okay."
"So you beat her?" Lazlo said. Willow smiled shyly. Lazlo whooped, "Very good, little girl, very good!" He hugged her impulsively and lifted her off the ground. "And him?" he said, pointing at the sleeping vampire.
"He's going to be okay," Willow assessed, "But he can't be moved until nightfall. What happened to you?"
Lazlo waved his hand, "Nothing I couldn't outrun."
They walked out into the morning sun. There was a gentle breeze and Willow blinked at the brightness. Lazlo had driven the car up from its hiding place, and he popped open the trunk. As he had said, there was an assortment of weapons there. Willow picked up a small sword. "Are you going to show me how to use this?," she asked, swiping it through the air.
"Not now," Lazlo answered, taking the sword away from her and handing her a small cooler. She opened it up to reveal several packets of blood. Suddenly, she realized how thirsty she was. "Go ahead," Lazlo encouraged her, "But it's nothing I need to see, and save some for the boy." She smiled and went back into the church, closing the door behind her.
Angel woke up around 4 or 5 in the afternoon. By then the sun struck through the glass in odd patterns in the rafters and he could move around freely on the ground. After Willow fed him, she and Lazlo helped him up slowly. He almost stumbled, but they caught him, and after a few baby steps, he seemed to be able to walk fairly unimpeded save for a slight limp. Lazlo dug a handsome walking cane out of his back seat and presented it to him as a gift. When they were all situated, they waited for the sun to set.
"Is George okay?" Angel asked. Lazlo and Willow looked at each other.
Finally Willow spoke, "Yes, he's fine, but Max was killed protecting me."
Angel's face fell. "He loved that dog."
Lazlo joined in, "He knows about you."
There was a long silence. "I see," Angel said. "I need to see him."
Lazlo replied, "He wants to see you."
Angel nodded, then looked at Willow. Turning back to Lazlo, he said, "There was a reason we came here, Lazlo. At this point, I think you've figured out what Willow is. I have nothing to give in exchange, but I need your help. Do for her what your family did for me. Help her keep her soul. Please."
"Angel, it's o..." Willow began, about to explain what Lazlo had told her when Lazlo interrupted.
"Stop, child," he said, very importantly. Lazlo looked at Angel with a piercing gaze. "Angelus, it seems my family's curse has done you nothing but good. I am pleased. Willow destroyed Colombine's insanity, Hecate is pleased. Come, child, kneel before me." Lazlo said, gesturing for Willow.
The two shared a glance and Willow realized it was his "play along" look. She trepidatiously positioned herself at his feet and he laid his hands on her hair. Closing his eyes, he began to mutter what were arguably mystical words, rocking back and forth. His moaning grew in volume until finally he pushed her away from him shouting, "Go and sin no more!"
Willow struggled to keep a straight face as she fell back into Angel's arms. She blinked woozily, sighing, "Angel?"
"How do you feel?" he asked, smiling at her.
She smiled back, as if a whole new world had opened before her. "I feel good," she answered.
* * *
They arrived back at George's apartment later that evening. He was sitting out on the balcony looking out on the city.
"Excuse me," Angel said, hobbling towards the sliding glass door. He went onto the balcony and shut it behind him.
Willow turned to Lazlo, "I feel bad lying to him about the soul thing."
Lazlo snorted. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him. This is one of the lesser secrets; let it go. That boy, he likes the tortured bit just a little too much, if you catch my drift?" he said, twirling his finger near his temple. "Besides, we have other things to discuss..."
* * *
"Can I join you?" Angel asked. George started at the sound of his voice.
"Sure."
Angel sat down next to him. There was an awkward silence. "I heard about Max. I'm sorry."
George smiled sadly, "I miss him."
"He was a good friend."
"My advocacy-for-the-blind group is sending someone over to help me pick a new dog. It won't be the same."
"No, I guess not."
There was another long silence, then George spoke, "I don't know how to ask this...When I was 8, you let me touch your face, remember?"
Angel smiled, "Yes, I remember."
George raised his hands tentatively, "Can I...?"
Angel took his hands and placed them on his face.
George marvelled, remembering the softness of Angel's skin, the absence of wrinkles, the comfortable planes. "No, I want to touch your face," George whispered. He pulled his hands back. The flesh had shifted under his fingers! He reached forward again and felt this new thing: the pronounced brow, the deepened cheekbones. Angel opened his mouth slightly and George gingerly touched the sharp point of a tooth. Slowly, a small smile crept to his lips.
* * *
Willow, Angel, and Lazlo left George alone a few hours later, walking out of the building to Lazlo's car.
In a happy mood, Angel playfully punched Willow's arm, "So where to now?"
"To Cortona," Willow answered, rubbing her arm, "Lazlo's going to train me."
"Great!" Angel said, "I haven't been to Spain in decades!"
Willow shook her head, "No, I'm going to Cortona." She took a deep breath, "You're going to Sunnydale."
"What?" Angel sputtered.
"It's for the best. The Olodan brothers can train her to fight the things that will come after her in this life." Lazlo said.
Ignoring him, Angel grabbed Willow by the arm and lead her a few feet away. "I thought we were a team?" he asked.
"We are," she said, touching his face with her small hand, "But you love Buffy and you need to be with her."
"I can't leave you by yourself," Angel protested.
"I can't go back there," Willow said simply, and Angel knew it was true. "So one of us should get to be with someone they love, don't you think?" Angel was silent, eyes downcast.
"You know I'm right," Willow said.
Lazlo shouted, "Willow, we should get going."
"You know I'm right," she repeated, starting to turn away.
He grabbed her suddenly and kissed her. Honestly, passionately, tenderly. She kissed him back with equal intensity. Suddenly she realized how she felt. This was how she always imagined how a kiss from Xander would be. She stepped away from him, her eyes shiny with tears. Without another word, she ran over to the car, waved at him, and got in. Lazlo drove away.
Angel watched the car disappear around the corner, then slowly turned and headed down the street, back to the hotel, then back to Sunnydale and Buffy.
The End