Then and Now

Author:  Kat (a.k.a. KallieRose)

Parts:  21 - 30

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~Part: 21~

"I do love you Willow, as much as I can," Angelus murmured softly, telling her the one thing in death that he never could have in life.  He gave her one last kiss on the lips before raining a trail of kisses down her neck.  His demon face slid smoothly into place and he slowly sank his teeth deep into the flesh of her neck.

Willow's sleepy eyes flew open as she felt the fangs pierce her skin.  This was it, she realized in a burst of clarity.  Tonight he had decided to kill her.  He had given her clues, she realized in hindsight.  His odd behavior this evening; his sense of distraction; even his tender lovemaking should have told her something.

And she had been so close to making it work too.  The thought taunted her.  Another day, maybe two, and the curse would have been re-cast and Angelus would have been no more.  'If only' crowded her head and her heart.

She felt the blood leaving her body through the twin pinpricks in her neck, and just as blessed unconsciousness descended upon her like a veil, something happened.  Angelus' body jerked forcefully, his fangs retracting from her neck as he was thrown back and away from her.  Her last thought as she lost consciousness was 'what?'

~~~*~~~

Angel's back slammed up against the wall of Willow's bedroom, and then he slid limply to the floor, pain and horror clouding his vision.  His soul was firmly in control again, but he was having a little trouble adjusting to that fact.  Waves of revulsion rocked his body as he remembered the redhead lying still on the bed.  He pulled himself unsteadily to his feet, grabbing his discarded pants and pulling them on quickly, before sitting down on the bed to look at the girl.

Not 'the girl,' Willow.  Oh god, Buffy's best friend.  Willow.  The shy little redhead who had fallen under Angelus' spell without much of a fight, and was even now at death's door. All thanks to him.  No, put the blame where it truly belonged:  all thanks to Angelus.

All that time that the demon had been in control, Angel had been locked in some sort of void, a formless limbo.  He had been unable to move, to make himself - his body, do anything.  The only thing he could do was watch with growing horror as Angelus had worked his charm on the girl, preying on her insecurities and driving a wedge further and further between her and her friends.

It had sickened him to watch it.

But what bothered him even more was that he knew there was an element of truth in what Angelus had done and said.  Willow definitely was unappreciated and treated poorly by her friends.  He, Angel, had watched it happen on more than one occasion, but had never really thought about it.  His thoughts had always been so focused on Buffy that things like that had seemed to fade into the background.  After all, it was Buffy who was the Slayer; Buffy who was his soulmate.  But Angelus had been watching, listening, and waiting.  During all the time that Angel had spent among them, Angelus had studied them carefully, and when he had gotten free, he had taken that knowledge and used it to attack the group where they were the most vulnerable:  he had gone after Willow, their heart and the glue that held them all together.  He had separated her from those that really had her best interests at heart easily, thrusting himself into that ill-fitting role with a smoothness that was hard to stomach.

A slight movement from the girl on the bed, merely a twitch, made the demon rail against his cage.  He had been so close, the demon screamed, so close to having everything.  'Drain her,' it whispered desperately.  'Drain my girl.  Turn her.  Taste the elixir once again.'  Nobody would ever know when he came to himself, it insisted.  Hell, he could leave here and they'd never even know he had been there.

Angel tamped down on the thoughts with some difficulty, hurling visions of purity and innocence at the demon, causing the creature to snarl and curse impotently.  'Mine,' he howled.  'She was mine.'

'You would have left her dead,' he shot back.  'You would have destroyed her and used her as a pawn in your sick game.'

The demon screamed angrily as it acknowledged the truth, the fatal error it had nearly made.  It slunk back into the shadows in shame, the silence in his mind a blessed relief to Angel.

What would she do when she woke?  Would she hate him?  Try to stake him?  She would have every right, he acknowledged sadly.  He had taken her innocence, her virginity, and had done things to her that she should never have had to bear.  She had been pure and sweet, and had done his best to corrupt her and turn her away from her friends and those who loved her.  And then he had tried to kill her.  And he would have, if it hadn't been for the sudden re-emergence of his soul.

He pondered that for a bit - how had the soul returned?  What had brought that about?  If he had to guess, he would guess that he'd been cursed again, but that magic was long gone.  Unless...he thought of the gypsy woman, the one who had masqueraded as a young teacher.  Maybe she had some knowledge that had allowed her to recurse him?  But if that was true, then why did she wait so long?  Allow Angelus to wreak so much havoc?

Questions crowded his mind, and he felt a sudden feeling of overwhelming hopelessness at everything.  He ought to stake himself right now, he thought.  Put himself out of this misery and make sure that Angelus never cursed this world with his presence again.  But he was weak; had always been weak, and knew that he could not follow through on his threat.

But maybe Willow would.  If he gave her the stake...

He looked at her sallow face, reaching down to smooth a lock of hair back behind her ear.  Her pulse and heartbeat were slow but strong.  She had lost a moderate amount of blood, but with proper care she should be fine.  But if he hadn't stopped when he did-

The sound of the ringing telephone penetrated his solemn thoughts, his eyes moving wildly to find the phone.  Should he answer?  Who would it be?  He was going to need someone to help Willow, but what if the person on the other end of the line was Buffy, or Xander?  Neither of them would ever forgive him.  Especially after they knew what he had done to her.

His eyes latched onto the handset sitting on the nightstand and he picked it up slowly, placing it next to his ear without saying a word.  He would like to know who was on the other end before he revealed his presence.

"Hello?  Willow?"

It took him a moment to recognize the voice, but he managed to place it.  It was the gypsy.  Jenny - no, Janna, he remembered.  She must have been working to re-cast the curse, and succeeded just in a nick of time.  One mystery solved, at least.

"Ms. Callendar?" he asked hesitantly.  How would he explain his presence here?  Should he even try?  She would probably figure it out given enough time.

Silence greeted him.  He could practically hear the wheels in her head turning as she tried to figure out what was going on.

"It worked.  The curse, I mean.  It's - I'm Angel."

More silence.  "What are you doing at Willow's house, Angel?" she finally asked, her voice suspicious and uneasy.

"It's a long story.  One that I think would be better explained in person."  He cringed as he spoke the words.  How could he explain what Angelus had done?  They would hate him, and rightly so.

"Fine," she said, her voice curt and distrustful.  "You and Willow meet me and Giles at the library.  If everything is as you claim, you can explain it to me there."

"Willow, well, she's not in any condition to travel."  He sighed.  How was he ever going to convince her to come to Willow's house alone?

"What do you mean?  What have you done to her?" she accused, her voice sharp and fearful.

Angel knew that this would be the first of many such conversations he had.  The thought made him weary beyond belief.  He ran a hand through his hair, his mind looking for ways to convince the teacher of his sincerity.

"He was draining Willow.  When the curse took hold.  She's okay, but she's lost some blood.  I think she needs someone to make sure that she's okay," and I'm definitely not the person she needs, he added to himself.

He looked down at the young woman on the bed, surprised to see her eyes following his movements as he talked on the phone.  She looked pale, confused and sleepy, but other than that she seemed to be okay.  Placing his hand over the phone's mouthpiece, he whispered to her.  "Willow, it's Ms. Callendar.  I think you need someone here, and she's probably the best person.  Will you talk to her?  Convince her that I'm not Angelus?"  He held the phone out to her, willing her to agree.

She eyed him uncertainly.  A look into his guilty, anguished eyes was enough to convince her that she was talking to Angel, but she still didn't quite understand everything that was going on.  She finally nodded slowly but was too weak to take the phone from him.  He laid it down on the pillow next to her ear, trying to keep his eyes off of the bloody wound on her neck.

"Hi Jenny," she said softly, her eyes drifting closed, as if even this was too much of an effort.

"Willow, are you okay?  What did he do to you?  Is he really Angel?"

"I'm okay," she answered slowly, eyes opening to gaze at the vampire curiously.  Soulful eyes, check.  Guilty expression, check.  Expressions of concern and self-loathing on his face, check.  "I think he really is.  You did the curse by yourself?"

"I didn't want to wait until tomorrow.  Once I had the orb, I just did it," her voice dropped to a whisper as she added, "I guess I was just in time."

"Yeah," she agreed soberly.  "I'm so tired, Jenny," she yawned, her eyes flitting back and forth between Angel and the phone.  He understood, reaching to retrieve the phone from her.

"Will you come?  I don't know what to do for her right now, and she'll need someone around for a little while.  Someone she can talk to," he added.

"I'll come," she agreed, after a moment's hesitation.  "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you," he murmured, but he was talking to a dead line; she had already hung up.

~Part: 22~

Angel laid the phone back into its cradle, his eyes shifting to look down at Willow.  Her eyes were closed, her face blank.  He could tell from her heartbeat that she was still awake, but she didn't seem to have any interest in talking to him.  He got up and headed for the bathroom, thinking that maybe a cold washcloth might help alleviate the headache that she was sure to have soon, if she didn't already.

He wondered what she was thinking, as he searched the bathroom for a clean washcloth.  After a few seconds of searching he noticed the cupboards underneath the sink, and started opening doors until he found the ones that housed the linens and towels.  He pulled a white fluffy hand towel out and turned on the water.

Did she hate him, he wondered?  Would she ever be able to look at his face again without seeing the man who took her virginity?  And what about Buffy?  The thought of hurting his love brought a white-hot stab of pain through his heart, but he knew that sooner or later the truth about Angelus' relationship with Willow would come out.  As much as he wanted to, he had no right to demand that Willow keep such information to herself.

~~~*~~~

Willow felt Angel's oppressive presence recede and breathed a soft sigh of relief.  Her thoughts were jumbled and she wasn't ready to face him just yet.

She had been so close to death that she could barely comprehend it.  A few minutes more and everything would have been over.  For a moment she wondered where she would have gone.  Was it the reward her Jewish faith promised her, or was the Christian heaven really what happened next?  Or had there been something else entirely in store for her?  No matter what, it would have been cold and lonely without Angelus.

Angelus...who had cared for her but was willing to kill her in spite of that.  She supposed that she shouldn't be surprised.  He *was* a vampire after all.  And like he had told her only a day ago, no matter what face he wore, he was still a vampire underneath it all.  Still a cruel killer.  And still the creature she had fallen in love with.

She could hear him in her head, laughing mockingly at the silly human who thought herself in love with a vampire.  The image of his face taunted her; made her want to crawl into a ball and hide somewhere nobody would ever find her.

Now Angelus was no more, replaced by Angel.  Buffy's Angel.  The Angel that looked at her now and only saw Angelus' actions and the effect they had on her.  The only emotions he would ever feel for her were guilt and sorrow.  And yet, despite everything Angelus had put her through, *she* refused to feel those emotions.  Her time with him had been difficult, she admitted, but she had learned things about herself and the way she acted and reacted towards those she thought were friends.  He had imbued her with a self-confidence and a sense of self-worth that she would hold with her always, regardless of what the future had in store for her.

She couldn't hate Angelus.  Not now, probably not ever.  He had done so much for her, even if he didn't realize it while he was doing it.

But what of Angel?  She would never see him as Angelus, or as a substitute for him.  They were too different for him ever to appeal to her in that way.  And she knew that his heart belonged to Buffy, regardless of what had happened between them lately.  Although the way the Slayer had been acting recently, she wondered if Buffy still harbored any feelings for him at all.  But that wasn't really the point.

Buffy's name stood like a huge 'Do Not Disturb' sign between them, and regardless of either of their feelings, that would never change.

~~~*~~~

The feeling of a cold, wet washcloth against her forehead alerted her to Angel's return.  The beginnings of her headache receded a bit, and she gave him a quick look of thanks.

She felt the bed beside her dip down, and looked up to see him facing her, a question on his lips just dying to be asked.

"Yeah, Angel?"  Might as well get this over with, she decided.

He was silent for a moment, as if he was trying to choose his next words carefully.  "What kind of game were you playing?  What were you doing with him?"

She looked at him, wondering which answer to give.  There were so very many.  She had been trying to buy them all time so that Jenny could curse him again; trying to keep her friends safe; trying to keep Angelus distracted; even trying to find out more about herself, through her time spent with him.

"I don't know, Angel," she finally replied.  "Those aren't simple questions."

"Was this just some bizarre way of committing suicide then?" he asked sharply, his voice beginning to rise in anger and frustration.  "I've become aware that things were bad with your friends, but don't you think your death would have been a little far to go for revenge?"

He thought she was doing this to get back at them?  Did he really think she would do something like that? "You were there, *Angelus*," she spit the name back at him wearily.  "What do you think he would have done if I had told him to go away?  You know what he's capable of.  Tell me!  Tell me what he would have done."  Her outrage cost her dearly and sapped her of what little strength she had.

"You don't know what he would have done.  Neither of us do."  He looked so far away, sitting so far above her and pronouncing his judgments.

"Get real," she said with what would have been snort of derision, had she not been so weak.  "He would have gone after the rest of them.  Xander, Giles, Jenny, Buffy," she ticked of their names on the checklist in her mind.  "He would have done far worse to any of them than what he did to me."

Angel closed his eyes in defeat, dropping his head down into his hands.  He silently acknowledged what they both knew to be true.  Angelus would have gone after each and every one of her friends, killing them slowly and painfully, glorying in his revenge against her.  She would have been left alone, desperate, afraid, possibly insane.  Thoughts of Drusilla filled his mind, and for just a moment he imagined she had red hair and haunted green eyes.

Shaking his head at his fanciful thoughts, he raised his head from his hands and looked Willow in the eye.  "What you did was reckless and foolhardy, Willow.  There were other ways--"

"Don't tell me what I should have done!" she hissed, her eyes sparkling with anger and contempt.  "I did the best that I could, and I won't have you telling me that I was being stupid or -- or reckless or whatever!"

Angel stared at her in surprise, never expecting to hear such a strong response from the young woman who was usually so calm and accepting.  He wondered if it was because of her association with Angelus.

"Willow--"

"Don't 'Willow' me, mister.  I'm through talking to you," she muttered, closing her eyes again and giving quite a good impression of being asleep.  If it wasn't for his vampire senses, he might have even believed it.

Confusion filtered through the guilt, and he wondered what he could do.  Everything he said to her seemed to provoke a violently negative response, and it was obvious that that was not what Willow needed at the moment.  Before he could think of anything else to do or say, he heard a knocking at the door, and breathed a sigh of relief.  The gypsy was here.  Maybe she would have a bit more luck talking sense into the redhead than he had.

"I'll go let Ms. Callendar in," he said quietly, leaving Willow to her thoughts.

~~~*~~~

Angel opened the door to a very nervous Jenny Callendar.  Motioning her inside, he gave her a wide berth, due in a large part to the wooden stake she held firmly in her hand.  She looked at him uncertainly, moving towards the stairway.  Since Willow didn't seem to be downstairs, chances were that she was in her room.

"I think we need to talk before you see her," he said softly, trying to move her towards the living room while at the same time staying as far away as possible from her newest 'fashion accessory.'

She acquiesced, moving into the living room and perching uncomfortably on the couch.  Her muscles were tense and ready for flight at the slightest suspicious movement by the vampire.  "What do we need to talk about?  And I'd like to know why you are here, if you don't mind my asking," she insisted grimly.

Angel settled on an uncomfortable chair on the other side of the room, keeping the woman's attitude towards him in mind as he sat down as slowly and unthreateningly as he could.  "Willow and Angelus were...involved," he finally told her.

The silence stretched uncomfortably between them as the young woman digested this information.  "Involved?  Would you care to elaborate on that statement?  Involved how?"

Angel sighed, staring down at the carpet as if he could wish his guest away.  "They were sleeping together.  Regularly.  They talked too. Sometimes.  They were...friends, maybe?"

Jenny stared at him in horror.  "You bastard," she muttered, her eyes narrowing to angry slits.  "I swear, if you've hurt her, I'll stake you myself," she vowed.

"I think--it was consensual."

"WHAT?"

~Part: 23~

Willow lay on the bed, drifting slowly into slumber, letting the murmur of Angel and Jenny's voices wash over her like a blanket of white noise.

A sudden, sharply shrieked "What?" broke her descent into sleep, rousing her mind again to wakefulness.  Her ears strained to hear more, but the voices again went quiet and it was all she could do to figure out whether the speaker was Angel or Jenny.

Finally, her mind began to wander, her body started to relax, and within minutes she was fast asleep.

~~~*~~~

"You're telling me that Willow was with him willingly?"

Angel twisted uncomfortably in his seat as she shot the accusation at him.  Her tone seemed to imply that no matter how he tried to explain it, in her eyes it would always be rape.  And maybe she was right.  Willow was so young and innocent, not even old enough to be considered an adult.  How could someone so young make an informed decision about something like that?  And thinking back to how Angelus had treated her those first couple of times they were together...

"I don't know," he confessed softly.  "There were times when she had a choice; when she could have said something to someone and put a stop to all of this.  But she never did.  Hell, sometimes I would swear she was happy to see him.  In the end I think she cared for him.  I know he felt something strong for her, in his own way."

Jenny looked across the room at him, staring him down angrily.  "Demons don't have feelings for humans, Angel.  They don't care about them.  Humans are food to them, nothing more."

He met her angry gaze with his own calm one, smiling sadly at her sharp words.  "Don't be an idiot," he said, watching her flinch slightly at the implied insult.  "You know that's not true.  The evidence is lying right upstairs in that bedroom.  If all she was to him was a meal, she would have been dead days ago."

She shook her head, trying to deny his words.  A thought crossed her mind.  "How long has this been going on?"

"About a week," he admitted softly.

Angel watched her through hooded eyes, wondering what she was thinking right now.  Was she blaming him?  Did she think he was trying to take the easy way out for his demon's actions?  Was she right?

"She was killing time, trying to distract you," she murmured, and he was surprised to see traces of guilt in her eyes.  "Waiting for me to re-curse you.  It would have been sooner, if only Xander hadn't broken the Orb."  She looked away, embarrassed, as if somehow this was all her fault.  "If I had only known what she was doing..."

Angel felt surprise, and something akin to respect, as he thought about the fragile girl upstairs.  When he had asked her earlier what her motivation was for her actions, she had never really answered the question.  Maybe now he had his reason why.  He had greatly underestimated her; her abilities and the lengths she was willing to go for her friends.

And she had done something that few others had ever been able to:  she had fooled Angelus too.  Not only had she managed to keep a secret from him, but she had also worked against him without ever showing the smallest hint of duplicity.  Angelus could sniff out betrayal better than anyone he had ever known.  Yet she managed to conceal something this important from him; he had to respect her for that.

"She knew?  She knew you were trying to give me back my soul?"  He wanted confirmation.

Jenny nodded absently, her thoughts drifting elsewhere.

The demon inside him raged at her betrayal.  He would tear her from limb to limb, make her plead for her life as he tortured her for hours, never letting her sink into the blessed relief of unconsciousness.

'She'll be nothing but dust by the time you're in control of this body again,' Angel told the demon resolutely.  'You'll never ever harm her or anyone else again.'

'She is mine!" it insisted.   'Mine to discipline, mine to fuck, mine to-'

'Kill?' Angel finished, his own anger rising slowly.  'You'll never be in a position to hurt her again.  Ever.'

"Angel?"

Jenny's soft voice brought him out of his thoughts and concentrated his attention back on her.  "Sorry," he apologized, ducking his head slightly.  "The demon-it's obsessed with her.  With her betrayal.  If he-if he ever got loose again, Willow would be in grave danger."

The brunette smiled sadly.  "I think we'd all be in grave danger, if it came to that."

Angel nodded his head slowly, his thoughts fractured as he tried to calm the demon while carrying on his conversation.  "Yes," he admitted sadly, "he'd kill you all.  But he'd make Willow hurt.  With her it's personal.  She bested him at his favorite game-betrayal.  That's not something he'll forget anytime soon."

They sat lost in their thoughts; when Angel stood up, Jenny moved back further onto the couch, changing her grip on the stake so that it again pointed towards Angel, ready to strike.

"I think I'd better leave now.  The sun will rise before too long, and I should really be elsewhere when it does."

"Yeah, facing the consequences of your actions would be no fun at all," Jenny snipped at him, her muscles tensing as she watched him move towards the door.

He stopped and turned towards her, his hand on the doorknob.  "Do you really think it's a good idea for me to be stuck here another day?  I don't think either of us want that."

She gave him a dour look before throwing out her arm in a 'fine, get out of here,' sort of gesture.

"You'll stay with her at least until she's awake?" he asked, wondering now whether she had been the best choice to stay with Willow.  Perhaps Giles would have been a bit better at comforting Willow?

"I'll be here for as long as she needs me," she retorted.  The words 'unlike you, you coward,' were left unsaid, but hung in the air between them.

"And the rest of them?" he asked.

"Her friends?" Jenny thought quickly and came up with the standard excuse.  "She's been sick a lot lately.  I'll just tell them she's had a bit of a relapse."  Her eyes darkened with anger as a realization hit her.  "It was you, wasn't it?  She wasn't sick at all.  It was just a cover because you had been fucking her, and feeding from her.  Gods, how could I have been so blind?"

"Yeah," he agreed sadly, his guilty eyes looking anywhere but at her.

"Get out of here," she demanded, angry at him for the demon's actions, but just as angry at herself for her blindness.

"Fine," he said quietly, opening the door and stepping out into the night.  The door clicked quietly closed behind him.

Just to be sure, Jenny walked quickly to the door and operated the security bolt, listening with satisfaction to the sound as the bolt slid home.

~~~*~~~

It was the light in her eyes that finally woke Willow up.  She had closed the curtains and covered them with something heavy so that Angelus would be okay.

"Angelus!" she cried anxiously, her eyes popping open as she looked fearfully around the room for a pile of dust.  Instead, she saw Jenny Callendar reading, sitting comfortably on the small chair that he often had used when he had come here to watch her sleep.

Her eyes widened as she the events of the previous evening fell down upon her like raindrops.  Angelus was gone; Angel was back.  He had tried to kill her-Angelus, that is.  Not Angel.

"Jenny?"  Willow whispered softly, watching as the sound brought the other woman's attention to her.  Ever the curious student, Willow's eyes sought the title of the book her friend had been reading.  The title, Ancient Romany Curses, made her even more curious.  She wondered if it was just reading for fun, or whether there had been a deeper purpose.  Maybe a way to permanently affix Angel's soul?

The thought bothered her, although logically she knew that it was for the best.  But the pain of his loss was still too new, too raw, for her to feel any sort of happiness at the thought of Angelus disappearing forever.

"Willow?" Jenny asked, pulling her chair closer to the bed so that she could look down at the pale redhead.  "How are you feeling?"

Willow did a quick check, then smiled wanly.  "I'm alive, I guess.  Thanks to you, that is."

The young teacher frowned as she tried to pick her words carefully.  When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and soothing.  "I'm not going to yell at you and tell you how what you did was foolhardy and dangerous.  I think you already know how close you came to death, and maybe that's enough to convince you of how serious this was.  But I do hope you'll tell me how you got to this place, okay?"

Willow began to nibble at her lower lip, eyeing the other woman uneasily.  "Jenny-"

As if Jenny could sense her thought, she added quickly, "I'm not going to judge you, or tell you that you screwed up, or anything like that.  I just think that you're going to need someone to talk to," she tried to convince the redhead.  She added softly, "Someone who knows the whole truth."

Jenny waited for the inevitable brush-off.  Willow looked so forlorn, so weak and pale laying there, but Jenny could see that the young woman wanted nothing more than to tell her to take a flying leap.  But as she watched, the hard quality left Willow's eyes and they grew softer, and then began to fill with tears.  The brunette reached out a hand, gently pushing the red hair away from the pallid face, waiting patiently for Willow's decision.

"You won't tell anyone?  I mean, not even Giles?  Nobody at all?" the hesitant words were quiet and shy.

"Just between the two of us.  Nobody else will ever know, I promise."

"I'm so tired of lying, Jenny.  There were so many, you know?  First they lied to me, and then I lied to them, and then, when he came to me, I lied to myself.  And it just got to be too much.  Now I think it would be nice to just tell the truth."

So she did.  She told Jenny about all of it.  The initial meeting, the seduction, the sex, the blood.  All of it.  Her voice was soft and low, but sometimes the emotion in it was so thick that Jenny wanted to cry for all the young woman had been through.  But she listened closely, never interrupting, and gave the girl all the silent support that she could.

And when Willow cried her eyes out for all that she had lost, Jenny held her and comforted her, and didn't try to feed her the meaningless platitude that 'things will be okay.'  She knew such words would be hollow and useless.

Later, after Willow was all cried out and sleeping peacefully, Jenny let her own silent tears fall, grieving for the loss of the innocent young girl she had once known.

~Part: 24~

Angel wandered the dark night streets, oblivious to the hard rain that pelted him, meandering without purpose or destination.  Thoughts of Willow filled his head.  Now that he knew the motivation for her actions, that she had entered into her liaison with Angelus in order to save her friends and buy them time, he couldn't stop thinking about her.

He wanted to cry for the young woman who had been seduced by the demon.  She was not insane; he had not turned her into another Drusilla, but she was now damaged nonetheless.  He doubted that she would ever be capable of a normal relationship with a man, not after the things that Angelus had done to her.  The things he had taught her to enjoy.

The sounds of her screams of passion echoed through his head, courtesy of the demon.  Feelings of hopelessness and self-loathing filled him, and he knew that it would be so easy to give in now.  To ignore the soul and go back and achieve another 'moment of happiness' in Willow's arms.  He could turn her and keep her by his side forever.  Never again would he have to feel shame or guilt for anything he did.  Sure, it was the easy way out.  But considering the alternatives, it sounded so very tempting.

And then he thought of Buffy.

His girl; she was sunshine and brightness and everything that was good in this world.  Even now, after everything that had happened between them, he wanted to see her so badly that it hurt.  He needed her forgiveness and understanding; needed her to know that even when the demon was taunting her, HE had been locked away inside, and he had never stopped loving her.

And how would Buffy feel about him after she knew about Angelus and Willow?

The thought made him stop and grab a lamppost for support.  She would be so hurt; he could imagine the look of pain and betrayal in her eyes.  And she *would* find out, he knew.  Girls talked.  It might not happen immediately, but someday Willow would let something slip, either by accident or in anger.  And then Buffy would know.

Would she stake him, her heart heavy with anger and sadness?  Or merely slay him with the anguished look in her soft hazel eyes?  Either way, he was sure to find out sooner or later.

But what should he do right now?  Should he go back to the mansion and face Drusilla and Spike?  Face their pitying looks and angry accusations?  Or should he hide from them, just like the coward that Jenny had accused him of being?

He was relatively sure he knew what their reactions would be.  Regardless of Spike's accusations of abandonment the last time this had happened, he knew that the blond would have no use for a souled sire.  They might tolerate him for a bit, but as soon as Drusilla realized that she could not tempt him into 'happiness' again, they would be gone for good.  Or perhaps they would just lock him out of the mansion and leave the rising sun to be his executioner.

As he sank deeper and deeper into despair and guilt, his feet guided him to the only place he could still call his own: the small apartment he had lived in prior to Angelus' re-emergence.  When he saw the door before him, it was as if he was awakening from a dream.  This home was perhaps the one thing that still existed from the days before Angelus had made such a nightmare of his life.  Somehow he felt that if he could just get into the apartment, it would be as if the nightmare was over, and those things had never happened.  He would be able to immerse himself in the comfort and illusion of that place and all would be right again.

The door swung open quietly at his touch, allowing him a glimpse into the past.  It looked exactly the way it had before.  Before his life had changed so drastically because of one blonde slayer.

He entered slowly, closing the door firmly behind him.  It just seemed wrong that this place had remained exactly the same, while everything else in his life had changed beyond comprehension.

Running his hand lightly over the bookshelves, he watched as dust fell slowly to the floor.  As he circled the room, he noted that all the flat surfaces were covered with a light coating of dust, and he wondered if he should do something about it.  Somehow he knew that if he decided to dust the room, he would be making a commitment to stay.  Otherwise, why bother?

He could still run; could still retreat from this place and leave behind all that had happened.  Europe would be beautiful right now; perhaps he could find a small village where nobody would bother him, or talk to him, or ask questions that he didn't want to answer.  The thought entranced him, and without even thinking about it he had taken a step back towards the door.

With a sigh that was almost a groan, he turned and grabbed an old sock that was lying on the floor and swiped it over the dusty surface of an end table, watching without interest as dust floated to the floor.

No, he couldn't run.  If only to prove the gypsy bitch wrong, he wouldn't run.

But he knew it was more than that.  There was such comfort in doing penance for his prior actions.  Helping Buffy, her friends, and even the Watcher, had become something so ingrained that it was almost a part of him; something that defined him.  And although he hated to admit and had fought hard against it, he felt like he belonged here.

He remembered when he had been with Willow - when *Angelus* had been with Willow, he quickly corrected himself.  She had said once that she felt sorry for Angel; that his life before he had met them must have been lonely and sad.  As much as he hated to admit it, she was right.  Going back to the existence he'd had before, where he touched nobody and nobody touched him, was almost as bad as being Angelus again.  That way of life had been empty and without merit.

Angel had no idea how long he stood there, staring at nothing and thinking about everything.  It could have been minutes, or it easily could have been hours.  In the back of his mind he felt that icy trickle down the back of his spine that told him that sunrise was coming, so it must have been early morning.

The sound of movement and a heartbeat, coming from outside the door, was what had finally pulled him from his reverie.  Who would be nosing around here at this hour?

His first thought was that it was another vampire, but the heartbeat scuttled that idea almost immediately.  Was it some punk out for a thrill?  A homeless person looking for shelter from the driving rain?  Or some sort of demon that *did* have a heartbeat?

Tired and confused, he decided to make himself scarce, ducking into the small closet that was almost unnoticeable because of the way it was set into the wall.  There were vents in the door at eye level, made to look like the grates of a forced air heating system, and as he secreted himself into the closet, he trained his eyes on the room, observing as much of it as he could through the vents.

He listened with curiosity as the door opened slowly, carefully, and then closed almost soundlessly.  Soft footfalls alerted him to the fact that the interloper was nearby.  Burning with frustration, he waited for the person to cross his field of vision, pushing his face up against the grate at an awkward angle, knowing that horizontal creases would be pressed into his face from the pressure.  A faint familiar scent reached him as the intruder finally crossed before him, and his heart leapt with dismay and excitement.

It was Buffy.

He hesitated for a moment, his hand already on the handle of the door.  Should he open it?  Reveal his presence and see what her reaction was?  Or should he stay silent and wait for her to leave, waiting for the right moment to reveal himself to her?  Maybe he should wait for Willow and Jenny to tell everyone that his soul was back before he made an appearance.

But then he thought about the young woman who had snuck into his old apartment, for some reason he couldn't even begin to figure out, and he knew that he couldn't wait any longer.  He had to get it over with.  Surely, after taking a look deep into his eyes, she would see the soul and know that it was Angel she saw and not Angelus.  So he took a deep, hopefully calming breath, and opened the door, looking out into the room cautiously.

There she was, sitting on the bed, staring out into space.  Somehow he had thought that there would be tears, or a sentimental clutching of his favorite shirt.  But instead, there was a strange, calculating light in her eyes when she finally saw him.

"Angelus," she said, giving the words no particular emotional emphasis.  She didn't even seem surprised to see him there, and he wondered at her lack of emotion.  "What do you want?  Decided to go slumming?  Take a look back down memory lane?"  The words came out angry and hostile; now that was more what he had expected.

His state of calm was shattered by her bitter words and the sharp daggers of her eyes as they flayed him.  He couldn't speak for a moment, just stood there swaying slightly.  Confusion, sadness, bitterness, and a little bit of anger rolled through him, leaving him unexpectedly weak and tired.

"Buffy," he groaned, putting all of his soul into the name, hoping that something in the sound of his voice or the sadness in his eyes would make her realize that he was no longer the demon.  But it didn't work.  She still stared at him with those same angry eyes.

"It's me, Angel," he tried again, his eyes meeting hers, showing her that the demon was no longer in control.

"No," she cried, anger coming to the surface, turning her voice rough.  "You bastard, I don't know what kind of a sick, stupid game you're playing, but you're NOT my Angel."

His heart sank at the angry words.  Maybe it was a stupid, romantic notion, but he had hoped that she would look into his eyes and see the soul there.  That somehow she would just *know* that he was back.  But that wasn't the way it was happening.

"Buffy, please.  Jenny found the original gypsy curse.  She, Giles and Willow managed to curse me with the soul again.  It really is me.  It's not a trick," he pleaded, coming to kneel before her as she sat on the bed, her head held in her hands.

She flinched and blanched when she saw how close to her he was, but he wasn't being at all threatening and finally she looked at him, taking in the lines of anguish and sadness etched in his face.  Maybe it really was true, she thought.  She knew that Giles, Willow and Jenny had been spending a lot of time together the last several days.  Perhaps that was why.  But why hadn't they told her about it?  They were afraid to get her hopes up, probably.

"Angel?" The words were tentative, questioning, seeking reassurance.

"Yes, Buffy," he whispered happily, knowing that she finally understood.

~Part: 25~

Angel watched as the door closed softly behind Buffy's retreating form, the blonde having left to spread the news of his return.  Yeah, that was something that Giles and Xander would be happy to know, he thought bitterly.  The two men had never been fans of his, although he had to admit that Giles had always given him a fair shake.  Xander, on the other hand...well, it didn't really matter now anyway, did it?

He sat down heavily on the bed, his head buried in his hands as he considered the events of the last couple of hours.

Seeing Buffy had been difficult.  No, more than difficult.  Almost impossible.  He had expected his emotions to come to the surface at the sight of her, and they had.  But other than that, nothing had gone as he had expected.

He had expected her to know that it was him, to see the soul in his eyes when he spoke to her.  The fact that she hadn't known it, had still seen him as a demon, even after the soul was back, changed things for him.  Made him think more seriously about his feelings for her, and about how deep her feelings were for him.

Willow had known.  The minute she had seen him with the soul, had looked into his eyes, she had known that he was Angel and not Angelus.  He knew it because he had seen the resignation and disappointment shining in her eyes.

But Buffy hadn't known, and the thought made him wonder if she would always see a bit of the demon inside him, whether it was there or not.

She knew he was a demon, had seen him with his face full of fangs and ridges, but had she ever really accepted that fact, and all that it meant?  He suspected now that the answer was no.  And as a result, their relationship would never be the same.

Then again, it couldn't have been the same anyway.  They could never make love.  He could never be 'truly happy' without the re-emergence of Angelus, and that was something he could never, EVER let happen.  Willow's life, and the lives of her friends, depended on it.

~~~*~~~

The sound of the phone ringing brought Willow back to consciousness once again.  The sound stopped, and she heard Jenny talking quietly to whoever was on the other end.  She opened her eyes, not surprised to see Jenny still sitting in the chair next to her bed, the phone held tightly to her ear.

"Yes, Buffy.  I know." Pause.  "I cursed him.  That's why he's back."

Silence.

"I know, yes, it's wonderful," Jenny agreed politely, rolling her eyes in annoyance.  Apparently Buffy was off on a round of 'My Boyfriend's Back' and Jenny seemed less than thrilled.  When she noticed that Willow was awake and watching her, she quickly stopped the eye rolling and merely sat still and listened as Buffy went off on another excited babble.

Jenny made a motion with the phone, pantomiming passing it to Willow, but Willow shook her head emphatically, even though it made the room do a weird, spinny thing.  Talking to Buffy was definitely not on her list of things to do right now.  She still harbored strong feelings of resentment towards the blonde for her behavior over the past couple of weeks, and there was no way she wanted to talk to her now, much less listen to her prattle on about her lost love, now returned to her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Willow's still asleep," Jenny said, forcing something that sounded like regret into her voice.  "She hasn't been feeling well, and she asked me to come and bring some books over so she could research."

Apparently Buffy wasted no time on false concern, merely saying a couple of words, and then a quick good-bye.  Jenny held the handset away from her and made an angry face at the phone before putting it back in the cradle to recharge.  "That is one incredibly self-absorbed girl," she stated coldly.  "I mean, I know she saves the world and is the chosen one and all that, but she can really be a selfish bitch too."

"What did she say?" Willow asked, her eyes wide with surprise at Jenny's strong words.

"Part of it was what she didn't say," Jenny admitted.  "I mean, I didn't expect a big tearful thanks or a parade in my honor or anything, but a simple 'thank you' wouldn't be too much to ask, do you think?  I mean, I restored her boyfriend's soul and kept him from killing anyone else.  Oh, and then there was the snide little comment she wanted me to pass on to you too.  Something along the lines of 'Have Willow call me when she's done playing the martyr.'  Yeah, that kind of pissed me off as well."

Willow's bitterness threatened to overwhelm her at her so-called-friend's decidedly unfriendly words, but she kept her temper under control.  She still felt a little weak, although she felt much improved from earlier.  But wasting time and energy on being angry at Buffy was something that she could not afford to do.  Besides, what was the point?  It certainly wasn't going to make Buffy change.

Her hand found its way to the gauze bandage on her neck, flickering idly over the pieces of plastic tape that kept it in place.  Turtlenecks were definitely the shirt du jour for a while.  She didn't want anyone putting two and two together and coming up with, well, four.

Jenny's thoughts mirrored her own.  "I'll get you some turtlenecks at the mall if you give me your size," she offered eagerly.  She just felt so useless right now that anything concrete she could do would be an improvement.  "You should wear more jewel tones," she confided.  "Dark green, navy blue, maybe even cobalt.  I'll pick some shirts up after school tomorrow and bring them by, okay?"

"Eep, school!" Willow exclaimed, realizing that this was probably Monday, and that not only had *she* missed class, but she had caused Jenny to miss it too.

"Relax, Willow," she insisted, pushing Willow back onto the bed easily when the redhead tried to get up.  "I called in sick and a substitute is taking my classes.  Then I called Giles and made him promise to give your homework to Xander, who will bring it by later today.  You're covered."

Willow relaxed a little, but it was obvious that something was still bothering her.

"What?" Jenny asked her, amazed that the young woman could even think about her schoolwork with everything else that was going on in her life.  She leaned forward a bit, trying to encourage Willow to explain what was bothering her.

"Giles.  Did you tell him..." the words drifted off uneasily as Willow tried and failed to find a way to ask what Giles knew.

"I had to tell him something, Willow," Jenny admitted, frowning when she saw the other woman's face begin to close down.  "I told him that I did the curse, that Angelus is no more, but that he was at your house when it happened.  That Angelus had tricked you into letting him in."

Willow considered the fantasy that Jenny had woven for Giles.  It wasn't perfect, but she thought it would probably do.  She knew that the older woman disliked lying, and had probably found it even more distasteful because she cared for Giles.  "Thank you," she said finally.  "Not just for that, but for everything.  For coming when I needed you, and for being my friend, and for covering for me with Giles, which I know wasn't easy.  Thank you."

"Any time," Jenny replied, her hand reaching down to brush away the hair from Willow's forehead.  She got up and leaned over the girl, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead, and then headed downstairs to grab some more juice from the refrigerator.

~~~*~~~

At long last night began to fall, and as the sun finally sank below the horizon, Angel reluctantly opened the door and left his apartment in search of his childer.  He felt them through the bond, even as he tried not to.  Drusilla was angry and upset, and if he was still and quiet, he could imagine her standing tall, her long, thin fingers pressed tightly against her cheeks as she swayed back and forth in agitation.  She knew something was wrong, even if she didn't quite know what it was.  Or maybe she did.  It was hard to say.

He knew Spike was nearby, although he could not feel any type of emotion radiating from the blond.  Spike had always been able to shield himself from Angelus, a skill that was quite unusual.  And something that Spike took advantage of to the fullest.

Angel's footsteps took him inevitably to the mansion, although he was surprised to see that the windows were dark and empty.  Maybe they had left of their own accord?  But no, he could sense Spike nearby, and before too long he saw the other vampire walking towards him, his long black coat billowing out behind him.

"Angel," Spike said to him, his tone emotionless.  Not Angelus, not sire.  Just Angel.  They knew.

"Spike."

"Not big on long good-byes," the blond muttered, looking deep into Angel's eyes, searching for a trace of the sire he knew lurked inside of him somewhere, but finding nothing.

"You leaving?"

"Yeah, Dru's in the car, all packed up.  She had some crazy idea of tying you down and screwing that soul back out of you, but I told her I didn't think it worked that way."

Angel hung his head uneasily, fighting hard to keep his demon under control.  A part of him wanted nothing more than to submit and let Dru do just that, but he couldn't do it, couldn't risk the health and happiness of all the humans he knew just because he was too weak to face those he had hurt.  "Nope," he confirmed, "Has to be true happiness.  Sex is something different entirely.  It just happened to be the catalyst this time."

Spike nodded solemnly, not surprised by what Angel told him.  If sex was all it had ever taken, Angelus would have been back a hell of a lot earlier.  Vampires had needs.  "See you next time you get happy," he promised, a melancholy smile on his lips as he said the words.

Angel smiled too, a sad, pained expression that had very little to do with happiness.  "Be careful," he told his childe.  "And take care of Dru."

Spike nodded again, gave Angel one last look, and then turned and walked away.

Angel watched until the darkness covered Spike like a cloak, and then turned and retraced his steps, finding himself back in his apartment again without really remembering how he got there.

~Part: 26~

Willow sat at the computer, attacking the keyboard with a ferocity that was one part speed and one part frustration.  She had been here, stuck in her house, for two days now and that same frustration showed itself in almost everything she did.  She felt much better today, which was both a positive and a negative.  On the positive side, she felt better.  On the negative side, that improvement in her health had made her restless and eager to rejoin everyone else in the 'real world.'  Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would go back to school.  No matter what.

Jenny had come back yesterday with the promised turtlenecks; some were sweaters and others were sleeveless t-shirts.  Willow had tried them on eagerly, surprised at the way the simple, elegant colors had made her look older and more sophisticated.  Not to mention the fact that they hid the bite mark *quite* handily.

Xander came by as well, dropping off homework and telling tales.  He mourned the return of Angel, and had advised Buffy to stake him anyway, since you just never knew when the vampire would get happy again.  Willow laughed and pretended to commiserate, but her heart really wasn't in it.  Xander had seen this as well, and after a half hour he left, promising to return the next morning to pick up her homework and make sure it got to Giles, who would pass it to the appropriate teachers.

The homework had been a godsend.  Complex math problems and essays on Global Warming quickly drew her mind down another path, a path not plagued with memories of Angelus and the look in Angel's eyes when he had gazed upon her.  She thanked Xander and the Sunnydale School District for giving her a way to distract herself.

A tentative knock at her french doors broke her concentration, and she turned quickly to see a large, dark figure at her door.  'Angelus!' her heart cried out.  But she knew the hunched figure on her balcony belonged to someone else.  Someone so close to the one her body craved, and yet so completely different.

It was Angel.

Moving slowly, unsure and uneasy, Willow crossed to the door, opening it and moving aside as he entered the room.  She had no idea why his presence was making her so uncomfortable.  Was it because of who he was, and conversely, who he wasn't?  Or was it something more complicated than that?  Maybe it had something to do with the fact that every so often she missed Angelus so badly that she briefly considered the notion that maybe Angel *was* close enough to the one she missed. Or maybe it was the lingering fear that she would lose control completely and do something really stupid, something that would unleash the demon again, and bring about all of their deaths.

She knew that the last fear was baseless.  No matter what he was going through right now as a result of Angelus' little evil spree, he still belonged to Buffy.  And nothing that Willow could do would change that fact.  Simply put, he could not achieve 'true happiness' with Willow.

Yeah, those kinds of thoughts were getting her nowhere, Willow acknowledged sadly.

She watched as Angel looked around the room nervously, obviously just as uncomfortable as she was.  Finally he made up his mind and settled on the edge of her desk.  Taking his cue, she sat back down at her computer, twisting in the swivel chair to face the frowning vampire.  Her hands found their way to her lap, twisting restlessly as she waited for him to tell her why he was here.

"I thought we should, uh, clear the air," he finally told her, waiting for her reaction.

Clear the air.  Such a vague phrase really.  Make sure our stories fit together was probably more to the point.  "Jenny told Giles that you were here when she cursed you.  That you had tricked me into letting you in, and that you bit me," she blurted out.  "The rest of them don't know anything, but Jenny had to tell Giles something."

He looked taken aback at the blunt statement, but considered the story.  "I see.  That should work," he allowed.  "What does Jenny know?"

"Everything," she said flatly, a myriad of emotions flowing swiftly behind her eyes.  He saw brief glimpses of regret there, mixed with sadness and grief and longing.  He wanted alternately to grab her and hold her, or retreat in the face of such raw emotion, but he stood his ground, merely gazing at her with impassive eyes.

"I needed someone to talk to," she added quietly, and he cursed himself for forgetting briefly that this was just as rough for her as it was for him.  Maybe more; when someone was as young as she was, every moment and every emotion was that much more intense.  She hadn't yet learned to deal with a love that could never be.  He'd had plenty of experience on that subject.

"Have you seen her yet?" Willow asked quietly, knowing from the look in his eyes where his thoughts had taken him.

"Yeah," he acknowledged.  "I saw her that first night back."

"Of course," Willow said bitterly.  "Of course you did."

Anger flashed in his eyes, quickly calmed.  "It wasn't like that!" he objected, feeling guilty even though he had no real reason to.  At least, not for that.  The guilt made him even more angry, and he allowed it to show in his eyes as he faced her bitterness head on.  "She was waiting for me in my apartment when I got back.  I thought about hiding, but I knew I'd have to face her."  Just like he knew he'd have to face Willow.  Neither of the confrontations were easy.

"Ah, a tearful reunion and good times for all?" she asked sarcastically, lashing out at him the only way she could.

"Willow," he groaned, bringing his hands up to run them slowly over his face, trying to calm his emotions with the gesture.  "I'm-I'm trying to make this better, but I don't know how.  We're going to have to see each other.  It's inevitable.  And-"

"And you don't want me to tell Buffy that I was your dirty little secret," she sneered, jumping up from her chair and running to the other side of the room, her forehead resting gently on the wall, hoping to mask the sight and scent of her tears from him.

"That's not what I meant!" he cried, quickly closing the space between them.  His hands clamped onto her shoulders, swinging her around to face him.  Eyes closed, face drawn, she looked every inch of the anguished lover, so very much more vulnerable than Buffy had been that first night back.  Twin tracks of tears lay wet on her cheeks.

The demon inside him reveled in the tears and the show of weakness, demanding that he pull her in close to kiss the tears from her face and taste her despair.  It was all Angel could do to retain control long enough to let go of her, his hands releasing her as if scalded by her warmth.  The demon sneered at him for his weakness, taunting him in an attempt to make him lose control again.

As she stared at him with those haunted green eyes, he retreated to the safety of the desk.  Distance and lack of contact made the demon easier to control, he was grateful to realize.  He would have to remember that.

"What do you want from me, Angel?" she said finally, the weight of her pain and despair showing once again in her soft voice.  "I won't tell Buffy, or anyone else, if that's what you're worrying about.  But I can't do this thing," she motioned between the two of them, "where we pretend like nothing ever happened.  It did.  It's going to take me a while to get used to it, and move past it."  She wandered to the bed, sitting down and resting her elbows on her knees as she gave him an intense stare.  "I know you're not him, but you look like him.  Something in me reacts to you, whether I want it to or not."  How ironic that she should suffer from the same fate as Buffy.  She could see the face of the man she loved, but knew without a doubt that it was not him.  Would never be him.

Only Buffy's lover had come back.  Certainly they would never be able to be lovers again physically, but she could still touch him, talk to him, just be with him.  Willow would never have that again.

"So what did Buffy say?" she asked quietly, a little part of her dying as she said the words.

Angel didn't want to discuss this.  His feelings for Buffy were confused enough as it was; discussing them with Willow wouldn't do anything except bring about another bitter outburst from her, and make him feel even more guilty.  "It was...awkward," he said finally, looking down at the floor.

She was surprised he had answered her.  His discomfort was obvious.  Apparently Buffy was a subject to be avoided.  "Did you see anyone else?"

A brief nod.  "I saw them all for a bit last night.  Figured they would want to know that Dru and Spike were gone."  The angry glares from Giles, Jenny and Xander had been difficult to bear.  Cordelia had merely been indifferent, which didn't surprise him much.  The cheerleader had always had one priority, and in her tunnel vision everyone else seemed to fade into the distance.  If it didn't affect her, she was hard put to show much enthusiasm.  Buffy, on the other hand, had been subdued but, well, affectionate.  She had taken any opportunity to touch him, as if worried that he would disappear if she didn't.  He understood her actions, and the psychology behind them, but the way that she flaunted her happiness in the faces of the others made him uncomfortable.  He had tried to put a little distance between them, for decorum's sake, but he seemed to be fighting a losing battle.

"Did anyone-did they mention me?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, you were missed," Angel told her, hoping to ease her fear about seeing her friends again.  "Cordelia even said she missed you," he added.  Okay, so maybe Cordelia's actual words had been, 'When is Willow back?  I'm tired of doing her crappy research,' but still, it couldn't hurt to stretch the truth just a little bit, could it?

Buffy's mood towards Willow fluctuated wildly between wanting to share her happiness and excitement with the redhead, to complaining about how she wasn't there helping them research.  There was one thing he and Angelus actually agreed upon:  Willow needed better friends.  But that was her problem; not his.

"Will you be there tomorrow night?" he asked.

"I think so," she confirmed, trying to hold down the panic she felt at seeing the others again.  Buffy's words the other night had cut deeply; the blonde had accused her of being a martyr, of all things.  If only Buffy knew.  Or maybe it was better that she didn't. Willow was just going to have to call upon that well of inner strength that Angelus had unwittingly brought to light.  She would walk in with her head held high, and ignore any and all barbs slung in her direction.  It might not be easy, but she *would* get through it.

"See you tomorrow night," she said calmly, effectively dismissing the vampire.

~Part: 27~

Willow took a deep breath, steeling herself before she entered the library.  She'd needed to meet with several of her teachers after class in order to catch up on what she'd missed, so as a result there had been almost no time to talk to her friends between classes or at lunch.  So for all intents and purposes, this was it.  The first meeting P.A.

There was a growing tendency in her mind to think of things B.A. (before Angelus) and P.A. (post Angelus).  Their time together had brought about such changes in her life that she tended to think of it as much more than just her sexual awakening or her first love.  It had centered her attention much more on who she really was, and how she was treated by those she considered friends.  A cool steel backbone had emerged, along with a calm deportment that she imagined would surprise the people she was about to see tonight.  They still thought of her as quiet, malleable, timid Willow; but that perception would change, starting now.

Willow pushed open the library's swinging door, entering and standing quietly to one side as her eyes took in the scene before her.  Jenny sat at the computer, while Giles stood over her, squinting untrustingly at whatever information was displayed on the screen.  A few feet away at the large round table that was the centerpiece of the room, Xander and Cordelia sat talking to Buffy.  Or rather, listening to Buffy, who seemed to be doing most of the talking.

She was sitting on Angel's lap, one tanned arm slung casually around his neck, as she chattered away at Cordelia about some outfit she had seen at the mall.  The fingers of her hand touched his neck in a casual caress, the blood red nails standing out shockingly against his pale skin.  They looked like the perfect picture of high school sweethearts.

As if he could sense her gaze, Angel's head turned to look at her, his eyes hooded, giving nothing away. She wondered what he was thinking right now; his expression certainly gave her no clue.

Buffy had noticed when Angel's gaze had wandered, and she turned around to see what or who had taken his attention away from her.  "Hey Willow," she greeted casually, motioning her friend over.  "Look who's back!" she enthused, planting a brief kiss on Angel's lips.

"Hi Buffy," she said, trying very hard not to be uncomfortable with the sexual display before her.  Buffy had never been particularly affectionate with Angel when others were around.  Willow knew that in private there had been lustful kissing and roving hands, but in public they had usually been fairly circumspect.  But tonight was different.  It was as if Buffy were trying to mark Angel as her property.  Was it just a natural reaction to all that had happened between them, or did she suspect that she had a rival for Angel's attentions?

"Willow," Angel nodded gravely.  He looked rather ridiculous, Willow thought, what with Buffy hanging all over him like a lovesick puppy.  She was big with the touching and kissing, but he seemed oddly subdued, almost distracted.

She nodded back at him, and then went around to Giles and Jenny, curious to see what had them so enthralled.

The familiar colors of her most trusted demon database webpage came into focus as she looked over Jenny's shoulder, uncomfortably conscious of the fact that Angel's eyes were still upon her.  Resisting the urge to return his stare, she concentrated on the conversation between the two adults.

"This computer may say that they're relatively harmless, but Buffy swears she saw one taking a chunk out of a homeless person last night," Giles muttered, automatically assuming that any information that came from a computer had to be somewhat suspect.

Willow stared at the page for a moment, noticing that there was something oddly familiar about the demon on the webpage before them.  A Grenlak demon, according to the text; a nasty looking green beast with tusks and beady yellow eyes.  An off-shoot of the Grenlee tribe, it was largely herbivorous.  However...

"Can I just click on something?" she asked eagerly, smiling apologetically at Jenny when she stood up and gave Willow the chair.  "Thanks," she offered.

A couple of keystrokes later and Willow was at the home page for the Grenlee tribe.  From there she clicked on the link for the Greglar demon's home page, featuring an animal that looked quite similar to the Grenlak demon, except that it sported a mouthful of sharp, flesh-tearing teeth.  Willow spun the computer screen around so that it faced Buffy.  "Was this it?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah, that's the nasty looking thing," Buffy confirmed, her eyes staring at the image with a burning anger.  "Not only did the stupid demon made me break a heel on my new shoes, but it pushed me down in the mud, and now I'm going to have to pay to have my new mini-skirt dry cleaned."  She shot a calculating glance in Giles' direction, "Doesn't the Council have some sort of Wardrobe Fund for Slayers?  I mean, I lose more clothes this way!"

Giles merely nodded placatingly, his attention back on the webpage.  "Thank you, Willow," he said quietly.  "That was a keen observation."

Xander, who had been engaged in a deep lip-lock with Cordelia, finally came up for air and gave Willow one of his goofy smiles.  "Hey, friend," he said happily.  "Glad to have you back."

Willow smiled back at him, basking in Giles' praise and Xander's greeting.  She ignored completely the calculating look that Cordelia was giving her.  "Nice shirt, I guess," the brunette allowed grudgingly.  Willow had worn one of the sleeveless turtleneck shirts that Jenny bought for her, the cobalt blue of the neck contrasting nicely with the bright orange-red of her hair as it brushed the collar.

Instead of shooting back an insult, or looking embarrassed at the left-handed compliment, Willow merely met Cordelia's cool gaze with one of her own, giving her a brief, "Thanks," before looking back down to study the webpage.

"Well, if we've got one of these bad boys in town, it should be pretty easy to kill," she told them.  "According to the webpage, a simple decapitation should do it."

"I came, I saw, I slayed," Buffy stated, popping up off of Angel's lap and heading into Giles' office to pick up her jacket.  "C'mon oh vampy one," she commanded, grabbing Angel's arm and pulling him to his feet.  "We've got a demony thing to behead.  Then we're gonna go Bronze, yes?"

"Meet ya there," Cordelia called out, pulling Xander to his feet and heading for the door.  Her eagerness to be out of the library was almost comical.  Xander threw Willow and the two adults an apologetic grin and then raced to catch up with his girlfriend.

"Wow, I can sure clear a room, can't I?" Willow groused.

Giles chuckled wryly.  "They're still children, while you, Willow, are an adult.  That's something to be proud of, even if it doesn't seem like it."

She considered the words for a moment before getting out of the computer chair and allowing Jenny to re-take her seat there.  "I guess you're right," she replied, although she didn't sound particularly sure of that.  "It's just that sometimes I'd like to be a silly kid again," she said wistfully.

As inwardly-focused as she was, she missed the knowing glance that passed between Giles and Jenny.  At a nod from the young teacher, Giles wandered off to his office, pretending to busy himself in a pile of paperwork.

"It's not always going to feel like that," Jenny promised, grabbing Willow's hand and squeezing lightly.  "Trust me.  In a couple of years from now, when you've already decided what you want to do with your life, the Buffys and Cordelias of this world will be completely lost.  You'll be the one who is in control."

Willow looked at Jenny and hoped that she would have that type of wisdom and kindness when she reached the other woman's age.  "I know you're right.  And I'm really grateful that you're in my life to tell me these things..."

"But right now it doesn't help you at all, does it?" Jenny asked sadly, a knowing smile on her lips.

"Not much," Willow agreed, putting her head on the table and closing her eyes.  "But thanks for trying."

She sat there for a moment, considering her options. "I think I'm gonna go home now, if there's nothing earth-shattering going on.  I still get tired really easily."

"That's fine.  I'll drive you, and we'll stop and get chocolate ice cream on the way.  I hear it cures all of life's problems," she said with a conspiratorial wink.

~Part: 28~

'Tired, so tired,' Willow thought as she locked the front door behind her.  She hadn't been exaggerating when she told Jenny she still got tired rather easily.  It was just that the lack of energy she felt had less to do with physical weariness and more to do with the effects of her emotional state.

She had been so nervous about coming face-to-face with her friends, in the same setting where she had felt so much pain and betrayal before.  And yet the actual meeting itself had been a bit of an anti-climax.  But in spite of the brevity, there had still been some unsettling realizations.

First, there was Xander and Cordelia.  Despite her recent heart-to-heart with Xander, she understood now that things would never be the same between the two of them.  He had Cordelia now, and even though her heart hurt at the thought of it, she acknowledged that he was almost a grown-up and as such, he had to be allowed to make his own decisions.  Maybe they sucked, but that was his problem.

And then there was punch in the face when she had seen Angel and Buffy together.

They looked the same as they ever had, wearing the crown of king and queen of the Scoobies, star-crossed lovers separated by years and by destiny.  It was as if the last two weeks had never happened.  Buffy was all smiles and touchy-feely, while Angel sat quietly, looking like he was just this side of a brood-fest.  And yet there were times when she could have sworn she felt his eyes on her, watching her, measuring and assessing her. Was it because he didn't trust her?  Or was it the demon attempting to make his presence felt in some unnoticed way?

Willow climbed the stairs to her room, her feet dragging behind her.  When she reached her room, she quickly undressed and pulled on an oversized t-shirt, then pulled back her covers and plunked down into bed, sinking gratefully into the comfortable mattress.  She pulled the covers tight around her, luxuriating in the feeling of warmth and softness.

As she lay quietly, her mind began to wander, and her thoughts drifted inevitably to Angelus.  She missed his nightly visits.  Willow had never minded sleeping in an empty house before, but tonight she felt not just alone, but lonely.  She missed the talking and teasing, the way that he said her name, like it was a caress. And god help her, she missed the other things he did to her; things that didn't involve words at all.

Without conscious thought, her right hand wormed its way under the covers, lightly stroking her breasts.  She thought of Angelus again. 'Lower,' she heard him say, and she hurried to obey.  Her hand moved lower, ghosting its way down her stomach.

When she reached the band of her underwear, her hand slipped underneath, teasing her curls with a light, circular motion, moving ever lower.  Her hand reached the lips of her sex, a finger sinking slowly into her depths, seeking that special spot.  Adding another finger, she moved them in and out slowly, languidly, letting her passion build higher and higher, until her body tingled with the excitement of impending release.  Then, just before she reached the edge of her orgasm, she backed off and waited, bringing her hand up to tease her breasts.

She repeated this delicate dance over and over, using her fingers to raise her body to the edge of release, but never allowing herself to fall into that blessed oblivion.  It was a punishment and a test, and she knew that the pent-up tension would explode when she finally allowed herself to come.

Sweat formed on her body, courtesy of the humid warmth of friction and sex, and she imagined that she could smell the scent of her own arousal.  It was cloying and sweet, and she wished she could know if this was what it had smelled like to him.

At long last she decided that this is it, this time she would allow herself to come, to explode, to find her release.  Her fingers sped up their thrusts, brushing against her g-spot with each and every movement. She whimpered quietly; she was so very close.  Her thumb circled her clit, squishing it down against her pelvis as her fingers continued their thrustings, moving faster and faster within her.  And at the very end, her other hand snuck to her breasts, grabbing and twisting a nipple, the pain and pure sensation sending her careening over the edge and into orgasm.

She saw his face as she came, dark hair framing the smirking face of a fallen angel.  Her legs clenched and released in time with her inner muscles, and her fingers continued to stroke her sex, prolonging the sensations of joy.

Now that she had come, her body relaxed and weariness consumed her once again.  Within minutes she was fast sleep, a smile on her lips, as she drifted into dreams of Angelus.

~~~*~~~

Angel could feel the walls closing in on him as he paced the floor of his tiny apartment.  He felt oddly on edge and was unable to figure out exactly what was to blame for his mood.  Stopping to grab a book from the bookshelf, he turned it idly in his hands, feeling absolutely no interest in reading the tome he held.

His mind drifted back to Buffy, as it often did.  They had patrolled tonight, just like they always had.  And they had talked.  Well, she had talked, mostly.  He had listened.

And as she had talked, prattling on about one insubstantial thing after another, his thoughts had wandered away from what she was saying, and had concentrated on a specific evening with Willow.

She and Angelus had spent hours talking.  Art, history, love and other emotions, all of them had been touched upon.  She was smart.  Not just book smart, but the kind of smart you got from living life, and paying attention while you did it.  And yet, when Angelus had poked holes in one of her pet theories, instead of closing up or fighting him, she had listened curiously, absorbing what he said.  When she agreed with him, she would reorder her thoughts into something new, incorporating his ideas into her own.  But just as often they would disagree, and her persuasive arguments would sometimes tempt him to change his mind on subjects and views he had held for decades.

Somehow Buffy's prattle seemed small and insignificant by comparison.

He wasn't being fair to Buffy, he acknowledged.  She hadn't known that it was a test.  If she had, maybe she could have come up with something better, more important, less trivial.  Or maybe not.  The demon chuckled in glee at the thought.  Even Angel had to agree that Buffy just didn't have the brainpower that Willow did.  They were opposite sides of the coin:  darkness and light; brain and brawn.

This whole line of thought was ridiculous and he knew it.  Pitting one girl against another in a mental decathlon was stupid, and insulting to both of them.  And besides, what did it really matter anyway?  He could never have either of them.

'Yes you can,' the demon tempted, filling his mind with images of Willow, naked, her legs open, her face flushed with passion.  Angel cursed the demon, but his cock twitched all the same, becoming hard quickly and pushing uncomfortably against the constriction of his trousers.

With a sigh of defeat, Angel went to his bed, quickly unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop to the floor.  He sat down, running his hand lightly over his now fully erect cock.  The organ jerked further to attention, and Angel knew he had no choice.  The pressure would continue to build, making concentration impossible.  He might as well give in to it now.

He circled the head slowly with his thumb, reveling in the feeling that emanated from the sensitive tip.  It wasn't the same as being enveloped in a warm, wet mouth, but it had its merits.

His grip became harder, more punishing, as he continued.  His hand became a blur as it moved faster and faster, bringing him closer and closer to the release he craved.  He thought of Buffy, sun glinting off her golden hair, as she looked eagerly up into his face.

But as he watched the image changed; now it was darker, shadows covering the face in his mind's eye.  It was a girl lying on a bed he realized, as the scene became clearer.  Glowing candles lit the room, which was dominated by a large, king-sized bed, covered with a black bedspread.  But it was the figure lying on the bed who drew his attention.

Red hair framed a face that was creased in pain and passion, the crowning glory of a pale, naked body marred by bites and scratches.  Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and Angel came hard, the pale fluid covering his hand and splashing onto his chest as his cock spasmed.

"Willow," he groaned, but the name wasn't said in passion.  Shame lashed at him as he sat, affording him no time to enjoy the aftermath of his release.  His soul waged battle once again with the demon.  And this time he feared that the demon was winning.

It was the sight of Willow that had allowed him to find his release, not the light, happy face of the Slayer.  He was a monster, and here in the quiet of his room, he could deny it no longer.  Only it wasn't the demon he was referring to, but the soul.  The soul had reaped enjoyment from the scene the demon had presented to it; had enjoyed seeing Willow like that.  That was the thing that made him sick with disgust.

'We're not so different after all,' the dark, hateful voice gloated, pushing him just a bit farther down a path paved with despair and self-loathing.

~Part: 29~

The next day had been a quiet one on the hellmouth, something for which Willow was eternally grateful.  She felt almost back to normal, the iron pills and rest both contributing to her improvement, but occasionally an odd lethargy would overtake her, and she would seek out the nearest chair for a brief rest.

Her friends didn't seem to notice, wrapped up as they were in their own lives.  Most of the time she was grateful for their preoccupation; there were too many awkward questions that she couldn't answer, so silence and avoidance were necessary.

But there was a small, selfish part of her that wished they *would* notice that she wasn't quite herself.  She longed for a strong pair of arms to hold her and comfort her, and while the arms her friends had weren't quite the arms she longed for, they would be better than nothing.  But nothing was all she had.

As afternoon passed into early evening, Willow headed home once again to an empty house.

Deciding she needed something more substantial than the soup she had planned on having, Willow called and ordered pizza from the new place in town.  When her order arrived it was actually rather good, much to her surprise, and she hoped that this place lasted a little longer than its predecessor.  Then again, it wasn't their fault that a Vengar demon with a sweet tooth had decided to raze the place to the ground in fury when told that they didn't have any more of their dessert pizzas.

Just business as usual in Sunnydale.

~~~*~~~

Willow went to bed early that evening, deciding to take full advantage of the lull in hellmouthy activity.  Chances were pretty good that within a day or two, some big new evil would be de-lurking, and much research would be needed.  Making a mental note to tell Xander to try the new pizza place, she put on a nightgown and settled in for a good night's sleep.

Of course, as with most of her plans, it didn't quite work out that way.

~~~*~~~

At first her dream-addled mind didn't even hear the knocking.  It had just inserted a woodpecker into the dream she was having, and that woodpecker had pecked in a way that sounded almost exactly like a person knocking on her french doors.

But for some reason the sound persisted, even after Willow had waved the strange bird away.  And in instead of fading away, the sound seemed to get louder, more frequent, and more insistent.  Dream-Willow frowned in confusion, then finally pushed herself through the gauze-like layers of consciousness until she was at least partially awake.

The person she saw on the other side of her french door jolted her the rest of the way to full consciousness.

"Buffy?"  Sure enough, it was Buffy who had been knocking so insistently on her doors.

Willow took in Buffy's appearance; tears coursed down her face, leaving shiny wet streaks in their wake.  Her face was a mask of grief, eyes scrunched closed, hands moving up to wipe the tears away, before going back down to clench and unclench in agitation at her sides.  Buffy opened her eyes and looked at Willow beseechingly, then looked down at her hand, grasping and turning the handle of the locked door until it rattled anxiously.  She looked back across the room at Willow, her eyes begging the other girl to get out of bed and let her in.

With an internal sigh that she hoped didn't show on her face, Willow reluctantly pulled aside the covers and got up, walking to the door and opening it.  Buffy slunk inside, and without a second's thought, threw herself into Willow's arms and began sobbing desperately.

'What the hell?' Willow thought, trying to gently move the blonde towards the bed.

They sat there for a moment, Buffy rubbing her eyes and trying to compose herself, while Willow merely looked on uncertainly.  Finally curiosity got the better of her, and she asked the question that had been on the tip of her tongue from the moment she saw Buffy.  "What's going on?"

Still in the grip of her misery, Buffy managed only a whisper of a reply, but the words shocked Willow nonetheless.  "It's Angel.  He dumped me."  Another long, loud wail followed her words, and Willow's thoughts turned inward, trying to figure out what Angel was doing.

"He dumped you?  What do you mean?  Aren't you two soulmates?  Forever?  How could he dump you?"

"Exactly!" Buffy cried, throwing herself into the redhead's arms again.  Willow held Buffy lightly, her hand going up to automatically stroke Buffy's blonde locks, while her mind considered the new developments.

"Did he give a reason?" she asked quietly, trying to piece together what had happened between the two of them.

Buffy stopped for a moment, looking up at Willow with her shattered eyes.  "He-he said that it was too dangerous.  That we were too dangerous.  He could-he could get happy again, and..." the words trailed off, ending with a small hiccup.  She seemed to be making an effort to pull herself together a bit, for which Willow was grateful.

Looking at her miserable friend, Willow squashed the temptation to be petty.  Buffy hadn't been there to help her when she had needed it, but the circumstances had been different then.  She was going to be a good friend to Buffy, whether she deserved it or not.  Or at least she'd try her best.

"So he did it for your own good," Willow said quietly, trying to remind Buffy about the big picture.  "He didn't want you to get hurt.  That's noble and good."  And very much like Angel, she thought.

"But-but, I need him!" Buffy replied sadly, her head dropping down to her chest.  "I can't survive without him, Willow.  I'd do anything to secure his soul so that we could be together.  Anything."

Willow sighed, sorrow for her friend fighting with the sadness she felt at the prospect of Angel having a permanent soul.  Certainly it would be best if he did, but the thought that Angelus would never be able to break free again filled her with both relief and misery.  She knew that it was silly, but as long as there was the slightest chance the soul wasn't permanent, she could always feel like Angelus was there inside Angel, watching her.  Willow knew the notion was fanciful at best, but it didn't stop her from feeling that way.

"Jenny is looking for a permanent soul spell for him," Buffy confided, her tears drying bit by bit.  "You could help her.  With the research, right?  It's not like you have anything else going on," she added tactlessly.  She watched as Willow winced a bit at her words.  "Sorry," she offered.

Even though what Buffy asked of her was something that made HER want to cry, Willow nodded slowly.  She reminded herself that her friend had no idea what losing Angelus for good would do to her.  She kept telling herself that, as Buffy began to talk animatedly about Angel, and how if they found a way to anchor his soul, they could be together again.  About how happy he'd be, and how clever she was for coming up with the idea.  Willow decided it would be best not to mention that the idea actually originated with Jenny.  Buffy certainly wouldn't welcome that brush with reality right now.

Buffy hugged her again, getting up and heading for the door.  "Thanks Willow," she said gratefully, a bit of the bounce returning to her step.  Apparently she had such faith in their finding a cure for Angel that his dumping was completely forgotten.

"Yeah, sure," she replied, once Buffy had left.  In all honesty, she had very mixed feelings about what Buffy had asked her to do.  Sure, logically she knew that it was for the best.  Regardless of what had happened between her and Angelus, he was still a killer.  And not just someone who killed to survive.  He lived for the kill, savored the taste of the fear as it spiced the blood of his victims.  She shivered involuntarily at the thought.

But underneath all of that, the possibility that he would never be with her again made her heart weep, and her eyes followed suit.

~~~*~~~

Angel wandered one of Sunnydale's numerous cemeteries, looking eagerly for something to kill.  He had been cooped up indoors during the long day, giving him lots of time to think.  It hadn't been easy or enjoyable, but he had needed to come to some decisions.

He didn't love Buffy.  He knew that now.  Maybe he never had.  Perhaps he had chased after her just like he chased after redemption:  something he never expected to achieve, but could not stop working towards.  But even so, being around her was dangerous.  There was just too much temptation there; too much of an urge to lose himself in her and the love and acceptance she offered.  The minute he allowed himself to become comfortable with all of that, allowed himself to feel it again, he would be happy, and the whole demented cycle would start all over again.

And Willow was just as dangerous, although for different reasons.

Angelus loved Willow.  Angel didn't understand it, but he believed it.  And as strange as it seemed, Willow loved Angelus right back.  Maybe she had reservations about her feelings, and maybe she didn't; he couldn't begin to guess.  But they had been happy together, as much as the circumstances had allowed.

And because of that, the demon would never stop trying to get to her, no matter what the cost.  Even if it cost Willow her life.  Especially if it cost her her life.

There was also a lot of anger behind his feelings.  Willow had bested him at his own game, had tricked the trickster.  He wanted to make her pay for her deceit.  But tightly threaded into that anger was also pride; he was proud that the woman he had chosen was so intelligent, so resourceful, so devious.

But what the demon would never understand was the motivation behind Willow's actions.  It wasn't her fear of death and the afterlife that had forced her to do the things she had; it was the devotion she had to her friends, even as they stepped on her, lied to her, and humiliated her.  Still her loyal heart refused to do anything less than everything she could, if it would keep them safe.  Even at the price of her own happiness.

If Angelus came back, he would claim her and punish her, and the young woman who was just beginning to know who she was would be gone forever, replaced by a demon.  He could never allow that to happen.

Yes, there were just too many opportunities for a fatal mistake if he stayed here in Sunnydale.  That was why he was going to have to leave.

~Part: 30~

Buffy looked to be in entirely brighter spirits the next day.  Her face held a happy, carefree smile.  The evidence of the tears that had fallen so copiously the previous night was long gone by the following afternoon, helped along by time, and by the careful application of a superior foundation.

Willow walked along beside her friend, listening without hearing as she rambled on about her newest plan to bring Angel back into her arms.  Willow made the appropriate noises of approval at what she hoped were the appropriate times, but her mind was miles away as the two friends made their way down the hall to the school library.

The late afternoon sun was drawing the day to a close as they entered the empty library.  Buffy quickly went in search of her Watcher, while Willow took her usual seat at the computer, performing the keystrokes to bring her online to check her email. As she suspected there wasn't a whole lot there, but since she never knew when someone would need to get in touch with her, she checked faithfully every afternoon.

"Willow."  The softly spoken word startled her, causing her to push her chair backwards and attempt to get to her feet, in order to face the vampire behind her.  In her haste her feet became tangled in the chair legs, and if it weren't for the strong hands that grasped her upper arms, she would have fallen to the ground.

She stilled instantly at his touch, looking up to see solemn brown eyes staring down at her.  In the depths of those eyes she saw the ever-present guilt and sorrow, along with amusement, quickly hidden.

"I'm sorry," he told her quietly, his thumbs brushing lightly over the bare skin of her upper arms.  She wore one of the sleeveless light cotton turtlenecks that Jenny had bought her, a dark purple one this time.  The design of the shirt bared the skin of her arms to his calming hands, and for just a moment she allowed herself to enjoy his touch.

"I didn't want to startle you," he whispered, "so I thought I'd just say something.  Guess it wasn't such a good plan, huh?"

She concentrated on his voice and the feel of his hands, closing her eyes and just reveling in the input to her senses.  "Umm," was all the reply she could manage.

Angel became aware of her preoccupation, and effect his touches were having on her.  He stepped away from her quickly, releasing her so suddenly that she had to grab for the chair to keep herself upright.  Her eyes flew to his, taking in the startled expression she saw there.

Flushing in mortification, Willow looked down again and took several steps back, her breath coming in rasping pants, as she tried to put some much-needed distance between them.  Obviously his actions had been unthinking, and she forced herself not to place any meaning on them that was not really there.  "Sorry," she offered, her voice thick with embarrassment. "Touching-not on the list of things we do now," she added in that same choked-up voice.

"Sorry.  I didn't think about..." his voice trailed off, just as embarrassed as she was.  The demon had tricked him again, subtlely manoeuvering to take control and touch her when she came close.

Willow moved to take a seat towards the middle of the long rectangular table, surprised when Angel came around to sit across from her.  He regarded her calmly for a moment, reaching out with his senses to make sure that nobody else was close by.  When satisfied that there was no chance they would be overheard, he leaned towards her, resting his elbows on the table.

"Have you talked to Buffy?" he asked uneasily.  At her quick nod, "And she told you..."

"That you broke up?"  Her voice was calm, but he could see the emotions in her eyes, and even in the way that she fidgeted in her chair, legs moving restlessly, fingers picking at a hangnail as her hands rested on top of the table.

"How is she?" He knew that Buffy was strong, a survivor both emotionally and physically.  But the soul needed confirmation.  Even if this was for all of their own good, the soul still hated to hurt the girl he had once thought he loved.

Willow shrugged, her eyes wandering aimlessly around the room, refusing to meet his.  They settled at last upon a book of ancient Rom faery tales.  How fitting, she thought.

"She's fine.  Already has a plan to win you back," she answered tonelessly.

Angel's sigh was weary, but unsurprised.  He knew the five stages of grief, just like anyone else who had read self-help books during the 70s.  She must still be stuck in the 'denial' phase.  "I was afraid she'd do something like that," he admitted.

"She loves you," Willow whispered sadly, forcing herself not to choke on a sob.  The conversation was hitting too close to home for her, and her sadness and discomfort were growing in leaps and bounds.

"I'm sorry, Willow," Angel said, wishing he could comfort her.  He had acted selfishly, not thinking about what his questions would do to her.  She just always seemed so strong and unemotional when she was around him.  Sometimes it was hard to remember that she was suffering too.

Angel moved around the table to her side, and when she stood he pulled her into his arms.  The gesture was unpracticed and most definitely unwise, but something in him needed to comfort her, to wipe away her pain.  She fought him for a moment, tiny hands raining ineffective blows on his chest, but misery overwhelmed her, and before long she had given up all pretense of proud independence.  Suddenly she was just a small, injured girl who cried in his arms, the salty tears staining his shirt and cutting at his heart.

"Sweet Willow," he groaned, the nickname that Angelus often called her slipping out by accident.  She stiffened in his arms.  "I wish I could be him for you," he whispered, his hand reaching out to run down her red hair, the movements soft and gentle.

'I wish you could too,' she thought.  Willow refused to say the words aloud though; it wasn't fair to Angel.  He was a good person, trying to make a difficult situation just a bit better, and for that she would always be grateful to him.  But she knew that he hated the things he did when he was Angelus, and as happy as it would make her, she could not wish that on him.

"Thank you, Angel," she said, her voice sounding a little clearer, a little more under control.  Her words made it clear that she saw him for who he was; Angel, and not the demon.  He was grateful that she could make the distinction.

He nodded to her, releasing her and returning to the chair he had occupied earlier.  Willow sat as well, feeling suddenly shy.  He had seen her at her best, and at her worst, and everywhere in between.  What did you say to someone who had seen so much, yet allowed you no glimpse into his own psyche?

"There's something else," Angel told her, his eyes meeting hers and holding them.  "Something I haven't told Buffy yet."

She cocked her head slightly, her curiosity burning in her eyes, coupled with wariness.  "What is it?"

"I'm leaving Sunnydale.  Moving, to L.A."

The words hit her like a slap in the face, her eyes closing quickly to hide the emotions that she knew they would betray.  Even as her heart broke just a little bit more, her intellect analyzed his decision and found it to be a good one.  Things were too complicated here.  Buffy would continue to pursue him, and he would be forced to come into contact with her time after time, whenever something new and evil slunk into town.  And then there was the confusion and uncertainty of their own relationship, or rather their non-relationship.  A friendship would be difficult to build after everything that had happened, and even if it were possible, there would always be that tension between them.  He would always see that longing in her eyes, would always know she was wishing he were somebody else.  And she would always look for little glimpses of Angelus in everything he did, waiting and hoping and fearing the day when his control would crack, and the demon would come out to play again.

"I understand," she told him, opening her eyes and showing him the acceptance and understanding that lie hidden in their depths.

"Thank you, Willow.  You've been-well, more than I deserved."  A far better person than he ever had a right to expect, Angel acknowledged.  He only wished that when he told Buffy, things would go half this well.  But deep down inside, he knew they wouldn't.

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