Author: Katie
E-Mail: katie@katie24.new.labour.org.uk
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the WB et al.

Rating: PG - British system.

Feedback: Yes please!  It helps the fic get better (hopefully!).

Distribution: Just ask - I'll say yes.

Dedication: To Krys for betaing.

Authors Notes: Takes place in season three - meaning Angel is still in Sunnydale.  It's a sort of W/A pairing, but not really a romantic pairing.  That explanation doesn't make much sense, so just read it and see.  Please?
 
 

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Willow opened her mouth, desperate to scream, but she couldn't find her voice. The vampire had come out of nowhere, his fangs protruding as he smiled at her. As they pierced her skin, the pain had been unbearable, an agony unparalleled by anything she had ever felt before. Now, though, it was nothing more than a dull ache, coupled with a sense of helplessness and betrayal as her blood flowed from the wound of its own accord. The vampire may have made the wound, but it was her own heart that was pumping the blood
to her neck and into the vampire. Her eyes fluttered shut as she said a last silent goodbye to the world, and then as she felt the vampire's fangs torn from her neck, oblivion came and she disappeared into the darkness.

Angel pulled the vampire away from the girl, fearing that he was too late to save her. As he swung the vampire around, he caught a glimpse of red hair, and his unbeating heart lurched. Ignoring all pretence of a fight, he thrust his stake into the vampire's heart, finding a modicum of satisfaction in the shocked expression on the vampire's face before it exploded, showering him with dust. Without stopping to shake out the dust, he threw himself to his knees by the unconscious girl, and saw to his horror that it was indeed as he had feared: Willow was sprawled on the ground, blood pooling and running from the twin-puncture holes in her neck.

Her heart was still beating. It was extremely faint, but it was still beating. Clinging to that slight hope, he tore a strip off his shirt and pressed it to Willow's neck, hoping that it would be enough to stop the bleeding until he could get her to hospital. He looked up, debating whether or not to find a phone and call an ambulance or to just steal a car and race her there himself. It had been a while, but he was nearly certain hat he could remember how. His decision made, he scooped her up into his arms and searched the area for a suitable vehicle. Finding none, he cursed and made his way down the street. Spotting a likely candidate, he shifted Willow slightly and drew back his arm, ready to smash the glass, when he heard something behind him. Turning slowly so as not to jolt Willow, he cursed aloud when he found himself face to face with five vampires.

"Well, well, if it isn't Angelus," the lead vampire announced. His four followers snickered obviously knowing about the return of his soul. "You having a takeaway?" The vampires continued to laugh.

"Just feeding," Angel slipped into 'game face'.

"One of the slayer's friends?" The vampire reached out to Willow, and Angel pulled her closer to his chest. "It's only polite to share," the vampire admonished.

"Polite? You're a demon," Angel reminded him. This seemed to throw the vampire for a second, as he considered what retort to make. A second was all Angel needed. Abandoning the car, he took off down the street, holding Willow tightly as he pounded the pavement. The vampires gave chase, gaining on Angel as they ran unhindered by bleeding teenage girls.

Angel rounded a corner, delighted to see the mansion up ahead. He hadn't been paying much attention as to where he was going, his only thought being flight. Now, though, he picked up the pace slightly, all the while thanking a God he knew he had no right to believe in that Buffy had performed the 'uninvited' ritual on the mansion, claiming it as her own before inviting him in once more. Now he had only ten feet to go, five, and then there he was, sailing through the doors and snapping them shut behind him. The vampires ran into the doors, and found themselves repulsed by the invisible barrier. Angel gave a grim smile, glad it had held. Now all he needed to do was get Willow to a hospital.

Willow. Who was currently bleeding all over his jacket and shirt. As Angel watched the vampires circle angrily, he absently stroked Willow's hair. Deciding that he wasn't going to get out of the mansion for the time being, he carried her through to the bedroom and laid her gently on his bed. Retreating to the bathroom, he emerged with his first aid kit, and pressed a bandage to her neck, securing it with tape. As he worked, he noted that the bleeding had slowed, and that the blood covering him and Willow was mainly dry. It wasn't enough, though. She had still lost an awful lot, perhaps too much to survive without a transfusion. With a last uneasy glance at her still form, he made his way back into the main room, cursing loud and long when he saw the vampire's still camped outside. They were either waiting for Angel and Willow to come outside, or the sunrise. Angel thought the former was the most probable.

Angel reached for the phone, grateful once again for Buffy's interference. Without it, he doubted he'd have had one installed. He punched in her number, surprised to find that he'd really had to think to remember it. He guessed it was a symptom of their relationship, which was now in its vaguest phase. They were friends who never saw, or indeed called, each other. The phone rang, and rang, but neither Buffy or Joyce picked it up. He left a message on the answering machine, begging her to get in touch, telling her it was a matter of life or death. Angel wasn't prone to exaggeration, and he hoped she knew him well enough to know that. Angel ran a hand over his face as he thought about what to do now. He was surprised to find that he was still in his vampire face, but in a way it made sense to him. The demon within was responding to the scent of Willow's blood as it clung to him, and no doubt to the thrill of the chase. Cutting off his internal musings, he searched the desk for the slip of paper that contained Giles' number. He called, and once again got no answer, so after leaving another message that he prayed wasn't ignored, he phoned the library. No-one answered there, either, and Angel grew increasingly agitated. He threw a vase across the room, the violent act enabling him to gain a bit more control over himself. As he went back to Willow, he realised that Buffy and the others were probably out looking for her, and just as worried as he was.

Willow was still unconscious, and a lot paler than usual. Her hair seemed even more vibrant in contrast to the whiteness of her skin. Angel knelt by the bed, stroking her hair and willing her to wake up. He stayed like that for a long time, just stroking her hair and whispering to her. As dawn came, and the vampires outside ran for cover, Angel was still kneeling at the side of the bed, his head resting on Willow's hand as he dozed fitfully, plagued by nightmares of Willow dying in his arms, or worse, by his hand. The scene replayed a thousand times. He saved Willow from the vampire, only to stand by and watch her bleed, constantly, until she had no blood left. Then it changed, to Buffy pointing a stake at him, accusing him, gesturing to the blood covering him. Then Willow, rising from the grave as a vampire and mocking him, calling him her sire. He awoke with a start just as the dream Buffy pierced him with her stake. Focussing his eyes, he saw that Willow's were open.

"Willow?" He said her name quietly, terrified that this was just another dream.

"Oz? Oz? Is that you?" Angel's heart tore as he heard her calling for her dead boyfriend. Oz had died at the hands of Cain, the werewolf hunter, six months previously, and Cain had died later the same night after Buffy had found him parading his new werewolf skin.

"Willow, it's Angel." He looked directly into her eyes, shocked that they seemed to have no focus. "Can you see me?"

"Angel? Where am I? Why can't I see you?" Willow tried to move her hands, to clutch at him, but she didn't have the strength to raise them from the bed.

"You're at the mansion, Willow," Angel took hold of her hand in his, hoping that she gained some comfort from his touch. "Do you remember what happened?"

"No." She spoke firmly, and then began to shake her head. "Did I...did I get bit?" She asked, tremulously.

"Yes," Angel held her hand tightly as he saw her struggling to keep a grip on consciousness. "You lost a lot of blood."

"Am I...am I a...a...vampire?" She whispered the last word, unable to say it louder, as if that somehow made it true.

"No, Willow, he didn't turn you," Angel reassured her.

"And you?" She asked. "Did you turn me?"

"No, I didn't," Angel dropped her hand, her words hitting him like a splash of holy water. "You're still human," he whispered quietly.

"Angel, I didn't mean it like that," Willow protested, groggily attempting to sit up, and failing.

"There's only one way to take it," Angel brushed off her protests.

"I meant that if I'd lost too much blood, you might have had to turn me,"
Willow clarified.

"I couldn't turn you, Willow. Never," Angel said adamantly.

"Good, 'cause I've seen the vampire me, and it's not pretty," Willow shuddered at the memory, before adding, "Puppy."

"Sounds like someone's feeling better." Angel felt her pulse again. It was better, but still not as strong as it should be. "I'm going to get you something to eat," he headed for the kitchen.

"Angel!" Willow called after him, the effort nearly sending her back into unconsciousness. When he turned, she smiled as best she could. "Not blood," she instructed him.

"Not blood," he repeated, chuckling slightly as he made his way back out of the bedroom.
 

Angel returned within ten minutes, clutching a glass of orange juice and a plate full of biscuits. The orange juice was one of his own purchases, and the biscuits something Buffy had kept at the mansion for after-training snacks. Willow was dozing when he entered the bedroom, and for a moment he feared the worse. Then he detected her heartbeat, and sighed in relief, before depositing Willow's food and drink on the bedside table and gently waking her up.

"Willow?" The touch of his cool hand on his cheek jolted her awake, and her eyes flew open. She looked at him for a moment, then seemed to remember here she was. "Here." Angel brought the glass to her lips, before deciding hat it was impossible for her to drink lying down. He set the glass back down, and moved behind her on the bed, propping her up with his hard body. With her head resting against his chest, he brought the glass to her lips once again, and smiled in satisfaction when she took a gulp. The biscuit proved more difficult, however, Willow refusing to eat it.

"Please, Willow?" Angel held the biscuit in front of her. "You need to eat something. Like when you donate blood."

"And you know this how?" Willow asked.

"I've visited a few places where blood was the order of the day," Angel refused to elaborate. "Now, eat," he ordered.

"I'll try," Willow raised her hand for a biscuit, and silently brought it to her lips.

I suppose you should get some sleep?" Angel asked, looking to Willow for guidance. "Or maybe you should stay awake, or is that just for a concussion?"

"I'm not sure," Willow confessed, looking equally as confused as Angel.

"Perhaps you should stay awake, then. Just to be sure?" Angel felt awkward. Unless Giles or Buffy got around to calling him back, Willow was stuck with him until sunset. He was pretty sure that the mansion was not a good place to recuperate, and he was certain that a vampire, soul or not, did not make the best nurse.

"Talk to me then," Willow almost pleaded. Her head felt heavy, and she wanted to sleep, but Angel was probably right.

"Talk?" If it was possible for a vampire to pale, then Angel did.

"Tell me something about yourself," Willow coaxed.

"Something about myself?" Angel was struggling with the concept of talking, let alone about himself. After all, Willow had restored his soul, and he had saved her life, but he couldn't think of a single meaningful conversation they had had. He didn't count the time he had come to her room. He had been obsessed with Buffy, and asking for Willow's help to protect her.

"You must have lots of stories," Willow persisted. "Not about blood, though," she added as an afterthought.

"You want a vampire to tell you stories that don't involve blood?" Angel let a hint of amusement show in his voice.

"What about before you were a vampire? What were you like then?"

"Willow..." Angel sounded pained. Willow looked up at him and saw the strain on his face.

"Oh, Angel, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you...I'll just shut up now..." Willow babbled miserably. She was spared her trademark blush because of her earlier blood loss.

"No, it's okay," Angel reassured her. "I've just never talked about being human."

"Not even to Buffy?" Willow sounded surprised. When Angel's features clouded over with pain once more, she wanted to kick herself. Two sore spots in Angel's life, or rather unlife, and she had managed to hit them both.

"Buffy and I had...a...strange relationship," Angel began, staring at the sheets on the bed. "She pretended I wasn't a vampire, and I pretended that didn't matter."

"Buffy can be a bit...blinkered, at times," Willow told him. Angel looked shocked, and she started to apologise.

"No, Willow. You're right," Angel stopped her with a hand to her lips. "It's just that I didn't think you thought about Buffy that way."

"I do notice things," Willow said, sharply.

"You're one of the most observant people I know," Angel confirmed. "Not that I know that many people, but still..."

"Thanks," Willow smothered a laugh as the action threatened to bring tears of pain to her eyes.

"Are you in pain?" Angel's sharp eyes had seen the slight tensing of her muscles.

"Just a bit," Willow shifted slightly, and sighed in relief as her new position eased the pain.

"It's still a long time until sunset." Angel looked worried. "Perhaps I can ring Buffy again, or Giles?" Angel started towards the living room.

"What time is it?" Willows shouted after him.

"Just after ten," Angel came back into the room, the cordless phone tucked into his neck.

"Giles should be at the library," Willow suggested.

"There's no answer," Angel frowned.

"Oh," Willow looked down at the bed.

"They might be looking for you?" Angel suggested.

"Could be," Willow continued to look down. "I think I'll just sleep." She closed her eyes and tried to even out her breathing. After a few minutes, she was asleep, her hair fanned out on the pillow. Angel looked at her pale skin and remembered that he was supposed to be keeping her awake. As he started towards the bed to rouse her, Willow sighed in her sleep, and a smile found its way to her face. Angel stopped by the bed, and watched her. After a few moments he decided to let her sleep, and walked quietly from the room.

Willow was in a dark place. Evil hummed around the space, and her eyes stared into nothing but darkness. She blinked, trying to focus, to force her eyes to reveal something other that blackness. It didn't work. Then there were teeth. In front of her, snapping at her, and in her neck, draining her. Willow opened her mouth, and this time the scream emerged, loud and clear.

"Willow?" Angel rushed into the room, a book clutched tightly in his hand.

"Oh God, Angel," Willow panted, looking around the room with wide eyes.

"A nightmare?" Angel asked, smoothing the hair away from her forehead.

"It was horrible," Willow's breathing slowed as she calmed, and leaned into
Angel's touch.

"Want to talk about it?" Angel asked.

"Not really." Willow felt dizzy, her head pounding. She slowly eased back into the pillows.

"It won't be long now, Willow," Angel tried to comfort her. "It's already after two, and the sun sets just after five." Angel pulled the covers back up over Willow. "Shall I tell you a story?" He remembered her earlier request for him to talk about his life before Angelus.

"Sure," Willow closed her eyes once more, intending to let his words soothe her to back to sleep. Angel's words, however, had her smiling and waiting for more as he told her about his younger sisters and the things they used to get up to.

"You were worse than Xander," Willow scolded as he told her about teasing his sisters with spiders.

"Now that's an insult," Angel protested.

"Sorry," Willow smiled, letting him know that she wasn't sorry at all.

"What about you?" Angel probed. "What did you get up to when you were younger?"

"Xander, Jesse and I used to be together all the time," Willow began, a fond look on her face as she remembered a simpler life.

"You didn't have any girl friends?"

"Girls didn't like me," Willow answered, a little defensively. "I mean, there was Amy in Junior High, but that was about it."

"You were too much of a threat," Angel smiled, nodding his head even as Willow began to shake hers. "Were you happy then?" Angel asked.

"Looking back, probably yes. But then?" Willow looked him in the eye. "Probably not."

"I felt the same," Angel confessed. "All I ever wanted to do was leave Galway, to get away." He smiled ruefully. "But now I realise what I had. Sometimes I want it back," he confessed.

"Just sometimes?" Willow asked.

"I wasn't a very good person, Willow." Angel's voice was strained. "I was drunk most of the time, spending money I didn't have on gambling and women."

"Oh," was all Willow could say to that. Scrunching up her face, she spoke quietly. "I try to be good."

"You are good, Willow." Angel assured her, surprised that she could doubt it.

"When it happened," Willow began, not needing to explain what 'it' was. Oz's death had haunted her for the past six months, and was never out of her thoughts. "I remember thinking that it was his fault."

"Cain?" Angel questioned.

"No, Oz," Willow whispered, as if afraid that admitting her feelings would make them more real. "If he hadn't got bitten, if he hadn't escaped that night..." Willow trailed off as she brushed a tear from her cheek. "I know it's not his fault, but that was the first thing I thought. I blamed him for his own death."

"You were angry that he left you," Angel reasoned. "It's a normal reaction."

"But I feel so guilty," Willow insisted. "Like I've tarnished his memory or something."

"You've got to let it go," Angel told her quietly. Seeing her shocked face, he clarified. "The guilt, not the memory of him. Oz was your first big love. You never forget that, whatever the circumstances."

"No?"

"No," he affirmed.

"I don't want to forget him," Willow continued. "I love him, I always will, but I want the pain to go away."

"It will fade," Angel promised. "It will always be there, but it will lessen over time."

"You think?"

"I know," Angel smoothed her hair away from her face again, and saw her eyes glistening with tears she had yet to shed. "You need to let it go, though Willow. You can't keep it around you like a shield. It might keep people away, but it doesn't stop you getting hurt again."

"How'd you get so wise?" Willow asked, smiling despite her tears.

"It's the age thing," Angel explained. "There has to be some advantages to being over 200."

"What are the others?" Willow asked as the tears continued to stream unchecked down her cheeks.

"I haven't really worked that out yet," Angel confessed. Willow laughed. It hurt, but at the same time it felt good. She laughed loudly again, and then the sobs came, long and hard. Her breathing was ragged, and the sobs were painful. Angel placed a tentative arm around her and gently pulled her towards him. They stayed like that, Angel providing and Willow receiving comfort, until Willow's breathing slowed and her sobs changed to sniffles.

"Better?" Angel questioned, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief.

"A little." Willow took the handkerchief, momentarily surprised that it was silk. Then again, vampires seemed to be tactile creatures, fond of the finer things in life. Why should handkerchiefs be any different?

"Angel?" Buffy's voice sounded loud inside the mansion. Angel sprung from the bed and headed for the door. Willow rubbed at her eyes, attempting to obliterate the evidence of her crying session.

"Angel, I just got your message," Buffy sounded worried. "Where is she, is she okay?"

"She needs to go to the hospital, but I'm sure she'll be okay," Angel's voice was calmer. "Come on, she's in my bedroom."

"Your bedroom?" Buffy heard the note of jealousy in her voice and pushed it down, annoyed at herself. Angel didn't bother to answer, instead leading the way to his room, and to Willow.

"Buffy," Willow managed a smile.

"Oh God, Will." Buffy dropped to her knees by the bed. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be here sooner. We've been looking for you, and then I fell asleep without checking my messages."

"It's okay," Willow flinched as Buffy pulled her up.

"Can you walk?" Buffy frowned at her friend.

"Not very well," Willow felt dizzy just sitting up.

"I'll carry you then," Buffy lifted Willow into her arms. "Hey, you weigh more than you'd think," she teased as she carried her from the bedroom.

"Shouldn't you call an ambulance?" Angel asked, wondering if Buffy intended to carry Willow all the way to the hospital. One teenage girl carrying another. That would be sure to get more than a few strange looks.

"Giles is waiting outside," Buffy informed him. There was no need to tell her why he hadn't come in. The mansion wasn't his favourite place, and who could blame him? Certainly not Angel.

"Angel?" Willow called from her place in Buffy's arms. When he came up beside them, she reached out with her hand and placed it tentatively on his arm. "Thank you. For everything."

"You're welcome, Willow." Angel watched as they disappeared into the sunlight. Leaning against the wall, he stared at she had gone through, and wept. Finally letting go of some of his pain. Not forgetting, but moving on. As he had told Willow, it was something that needed to be done.

It was his salvation. She was his salvation. Just as she had to face her future, he had to face his. For just a brief moment, he allowed himself to hope that perhaps they could face it together.
 
 

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