~Part 7~

'Remember all the songs you sang for me
When we went sailing on an emerald bay
And like a boat out on the ocean
I'm rocking you to sleep
The water's dark and
deep inside this ancient heart
You'll always be a part of me.'

(Billy Joel - Lullabye)
 

Angharad found her standing by the window in the hallway, eyes fixed on the ever-moving seas, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

'Willow?' she asked softly, not wanting to startle her.

Willow turned, slowly. 'Hi.' her voice was subdued, beaten.

'I'm sorry. This can't be easy for you.'

The redhead sighed. 'I guess it's just strange, you know? It's always been Buffy - Buffy and Angel. The traumas and the angst, that's their department. The
most disastery stuff I've had going for me is boyfriend troubles. I'm just not used to this.'

Surprisingly, the dark-haired witch moved forwards and put her hands on Willow's shoulders. 'It's going to be okay. We'll look after you. I know for a fact that
Angel won't let anything touch you before this prophecy comes full circle. He cares about you.'

'And that makes it all *so* much easier,' Willow muttered under her breath.

Angharad chuckled, deep and throaty. 'I know. And at some point, I'm going to have to fill your head with more details regarding this prophecy nonsense.'

This time, Willow audibly groaned.

A sound on the stairs behind them made them both jump and turn, nerves taunt. But it was only Angel. As he moved forward to embrace Willow, Angharad subtly drifted off into the background, soundlessly gliding down the stairs, leaving them alone.

Willow leant back into Angel's arms, letting him kiss her hair. She ignored all the reasons that she shouldn't be doing exactly what she was doing, or
feeling what she was feeling, and decided, for once, to enjoy the moment.

Angel breathed out unnecessary hair against the top of her head. 'I'm so sorry, cariad,' he whispered, not wanting to break the moment.

Willow stared out at the dark sea again, thoughts approximately nowhere, mind as blank as the blackness outside the window. The wind was still high, blowing branches against the windows, whipping trees into a frenzy, and making the night howl.

'Is it really always like this here?' she asked, absently.

'Often enough,' he replied, smiling a little. 'Remind me to take you down to the beach one evening, once the wind stops.'

Willow nodded agreement. They stood in silence a little longer, allowing the peace to lull them into a sense of serenity. Angel was running his hands along
her silken hair, she suddenly realised. And she was stroking his hand, absently. And everything was safe and fine.

'Angel?' she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

'Yes, cariad?' he replied, his voice just as low and soft, as if he were hoping for something, but barely believing it to be possible.

'Will you stay with me tonight?'
 
 

~Part 8~

"I must go down to the sea again,
To the lonely sea and the sky"

John Masefield, 'Sea Fever'
 
 

Willow tossed a pebble into the water. It skipped twice and then sank.

Sighing, she pulled her knees up to her chest, and then began to laugh at herself.  <Look at me. I'm almost as broody as he is. >

She had spent last night with Angel. Really, what more was there to say.  She had asked him to stay, and he had obeyed.

Almost without wanting to, Willow felt herself drift back to the night before.

He had loved her.

<Willow, I love you>

<Angel.>

He had touched her.

<Sweet Jesus, Angel, please.>

He had kissed her, had wanted her, and had possessed her.

The feel of him inside her pervaded her consciousness and she stood up in the cold wind, desperately trying to will it away.

<What was I thinking? >

But then.

She couldn't deny that he cared about her. And she had to admit that she cared about him. So what was the problem?

<The prophecy. >

The wind cut her skin and the sand whirled up in her eyes.

She focussed solely on the water, watching the last of the sunlight sparkle and fade on the crests.

It would be dark soon.

<Hell. What am I doing?>

I love him.

He says he loves me.

This is crazy.

<And the prophecy says he has to be with me. Is that the only reason he wants me? >

Willow tugged the sand at her feet between her fingers and let it run through. It was getting cold. She should probably head home.

<Home? >

In a flash her head was filled with visions: Angel holding her, Angel kissing her, Angel touching her face.

In her mind, he stripped off her top once again and touched her pale skin.

In her wishes, he ran his fingers across her breasts and caught his breath.

Inside her eyes he loved her like he did last night.

Willow dropped to her knees and touched the sand for comfort.

What would he have thought when he had woken alone?
 
 

~Part 9~
 

Angel woke to an empty bed.

Under any other circumstances, this would have been perfectly normal, but he distinctly remembered Willow asking him to stay with her last night.

So where the hell was she?

<I knew this was a mistake.>

Well... not a mistake, as such.  Not really.

<A misjudgment? >

Not even that.

He loved her. And he knew damn well that she loved him. And he knew, beyond a doubt, that right now she was sitting staring at the sea contemplating all the problems, and whether it was just the prophecy or if it was real, and what about Buffy.

Well sod that.

He was just going to have to show her all the benefits of this relationship.

****

The last flecks of sunlight disappeared from the surf and Willow woke from a trance and looked around her.

<Damn. Sundown. >

With a sigh she got slowly to her feet and rubbed her eyes, preparing to head back to the house.

As hands touched her waist she jumped, and tried to turn but was held in place by the unknown person behind her.

<Oh God, Angel's going to kill me. He brings me all the way to Wales to keep me safe and.>

Hang on. She wasn't dead yet.
 

And then the hands started moving.  At first they just rubbed her arms and held her close. Then they started stroking her hair. Then they spun her around and she was facing Angel.

"Willow, this is stupid."

She blinked. "What is?"

"I know what you're thinking. You're having second thoughts about everything, aren't you?" he accused.

Willow had the good grace to look a little guilty. "Well."

"Well don't. I'm not having it. We're going home. We're going to bed. And we're not getting up again until I've convinced you that this is a good idea. That I love you."

Willow started to protest, but quickly realized that not only was it futile, but that she really didn't want to. "Okay," she whispered.

And with that, Angel swept her up in his arms, carried her home, and made terribly good on his promise.
 

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