Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, I do not own the franchise, I just own the plot.
Distribution: WackyWitch , Bite Me Please?, Near Her Always, Willow's Lil' Secret, Leslie Ketchum's site; Batpack2 Archive, My site; anyone else please ask for permission.
Summary: Angel was sired by Darla coming out of a pub. Why was he there in the first place?
Author's Note: This fic is based on the Celtic poem by Aldred Noyes, "The Highway Man". The song by Loreena McKennitt inspired the fic.
Author's Thanks: Amanda, as always for the fantastic encouragment and Beta. Also to Ash, for getting me back into Willow/Angel. Now, more Angelus!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
**** The Highway Man****
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty
trees
the moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy
seas
the road was ribbon of moonlight over the purple
moor
and the highwayman came riding,riding,riding
the highwayman came riding, up to the old-inn
door
He'd a french cocked hat on his forehead,
a bunch of lace at his chin,
a coat of claret velvet and breeches of brown
doe-skin
they fitted with never a wrinkle ; his boots
were up to the thigh
and he rode with a jewelled twinkle
his pistol butts a-twinkle, his rapier hilt a-twinkle,
under the jeweled sky
over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in
the dark inn-yard
and he tapped with his whip on the shutters,
but all was locked and barred
he whistled a tune to the window and who should
be waiting there
but the landlord's blackeyed daughter, Bess,
the landlord's daughter
plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black
hair
"One Kiss my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize
tonight,
but I shall be back with the yellow gold before
the morning light.
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through
the day,
then look for me by the moonlight,
watch for me by the moonlight,
I'll come to thee by the moonlight,
Though hell shall bar the way"
He rose uprigt in the stirrups; he scarce could
reach her hand
but she loosened her hair i' the casement
his face burnt like a brand as the black cascade
of perfume came
tumbling over his breast; and he kissed its waves
in the moonlight
then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight
and galloped away to the west
He did not come at the dawning; he did not come
at noon, and out o'the tawny sunset
before the rise o' the moon
when the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the
purple moor
a red-coat troop came marching, marching, marching
King George's men came marching up to the old
inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord, they drank
his ale instead
but they gagged his daughter and bound her to
the foot of her narrow bed
two of them knelt at the casement, with muskets
at their side
there was death at every window
and hell at one dark windo; for Bess could see,
through the casement
the road that he would ride
They had tied her up to attention, with many
a sniggering jest,
they had bound a musket beside her, with the
barrell beneath her breast
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her
She heard the dead man say, "look for me by the
moonlight; watch for me
by the moonlight; I'll come to thee by the moonlight,
though hell should bar the way!"
She twisted her hands behind her, but all the
knots held good,
she writhed her hands till her fingers were wet
with sweat or blood
they stretched and strained in the dakness and
the hours crawled by like years
till now, on the stroke of midnight,
cold on the stroke of midnight
the tip of one finger touched it
the trigger at least was hers!
Tlot-Tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs
were ringing clear
Tlot-Tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that
they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight
over the brow of the hill,
the highwayman came riding, riding, riding
The redcoats looked to their priming, she stood
up straight and still
Tlot in the frosty silence! Tlot in the echoing
night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like
a light
Her eyes grew wide for a moment! She drew one
last deep breath
then her finger moved in the moonlight
her musket shattered the moonlight, shattered
her breast in the moonlight
and warned him with her death
He turned; he spurred to the west; he did not
know she stood
bowed with her head o'er the musket, drenched
with her own red blood!
Not till dawn he heard it; his face grew gray
to hear,
how Bess the landlord's daughter, the landlord's
blackeyed daughter,
had watched for her love in the moonlight, and
died in the darkness there
Back he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse
to the sky
with the white road smoking behind him, and his
rapier brandished high
blood-red were the spurs l' the golden noon,
wine-red was his velvet coat
when they shot him down on the highway, down
like a dog on the highway
and he lay in his blood on the highway with the
bunch of lace at his throat
Still of a winter's night, they say, when the
wind is in the trees,
when the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon
the cloudy seas
when the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the
purple moor,
a highwayman comes riding, riding,riding,
a highwayman comes riding, up to the old-inn
door.
****
~Part: 1~
Galway 1753
Liam O'Connor looked up, squinting his eyes at the bunch of redcoats in the corner of the pub. They were drunk, and bragging about their latest exploits in the 'dirty country of the Irish'. They didn't seem to notice that after each comment, there was silence by the rest of the patrons.The Irish patrons.
He tipped his pint to his lips again, motioning to the barkeep. "How long they been 'ere Roy?"
The keep glanced over at the soldiers, wiping the counter nonchalantly. "Why ye be askin' Liam? Yer aren't thinkin' about..."
"Never ye mind what I be thinkin'," Liam snapped.
"They been 'ere quarter of a hour," Roy reluctantly supplied.
Liam nodded, his deep eyes belying an excitment that his body posture did not betray. He dug into his work breeches, removing two gold coins. "Keep 'em well watered Roy, tell 'em that their patronage...is well appreciated." He slid the coins across the counter to the barkeep.
Roy sighed quietly, pocketing the money. He paused, looking up at the man that had been sitting on his stools since he was a lad. "Yer bein' careful Liam? I know ye love 'er..."
"I dunna wan' ta hear it, Roy," Liam quietly cut him off, standing.
"They'll punish ya both if they find ya out after dark. I dunna wan ' ta see that happen."
Liam turned, "I know," he threw over his shoulder, escaping into the night.
****
It had always been well known in Galway what type of cad Liam was considered. Perhaps it was the bad boy reputation that Willow was most attracted to, or perhaps it was because she saw more inside of him than even he knew.
A cascade of stones clattered against the wood of her shutters, and she giggled gently. The moon shone through the shutters into her bedroom before she grasped them and pulled them open.
There he was, his bright face upturned to her bedroom window, his dark eyes shining even in the darkness.
"Are ye ready?" he called.
"Yes. I'm comin." She shut the wooden shutters silently, tying her cloak around her shoulders, sneaking from the quiet cottage. Willow jumped slightly when she felt arms encircle her waist, before she relaxed into their touch.
"Liam," Willow sighed.
"Willow," he breathed against her neck.
"The officers away?" She turned in his arms, stroking his cheek.
"Roy gave a lil' bit o' appreciation," he grinned.
Willow smiled softly, entwining her fingers with his. "Then let's not waste all the time we have."
They took off toward the moor, disappearing among the heather and moonlight.
****
"How much?!" the officer barked.
Roy groaned, as another blow hit his stomach, "Two gold pieces."
The Captain of the British Command in Galway growled, glaring at his passed-out infantry, who were supposed to be keeping an eye on his woman. He turned on his heel, his personal guard following close. There was only one good thing about Ireland, and that was Willow. He had come to this God-forsaken country to make a fortune with the army, but he had found it in her. Yet the redhead was stubborn, and had refused him at every turn, preferring her own Irish beau. The Captain had taken all possible measures to ensure that they did not see each other. Yet every now and then, his soldiers ended up passed-out drunk, and the coincidence was becoming too much to ignore.
He motioned to the men following him, and they hoisted their weapons to their shoulders.
****
Liam stroked the soft skin of Willow's back, as lay against him, and remembered the first time he had seen her; dancing at a All Saints Festival. Her dress was still about her ankles, unlike the other women, whose inhibitions had been dulled by drink, had their skirts hiked to their knees.
He circled the area for a while, just watching her. She had many partners, but never seemed to gravitate to a single one. When a gentleman seemed too familiar, she managed to 'accidentally' step upon his toes.
It was that spark of fire that cemented Liam's intention. He had to know who this woman was.
Finally, she sat down, sipping delicately at...water, of all things.
"I been askin' everyone I know, who is this lovely lass?" Liam slid onto the bench beside her, smiling widely.
The redhead gave him a level look. "Someone who be knowin' better than ta engage ya in anythin' Liam O'Connor."
"Oh, you wound me. 'Tis a good thin' I found out ye name for meself, Willow Tibbott," Liam winked at her.
"Me name 'tis not a carte blanche to me person," she replied smoothly.
"No?" Liam attempted to look shocked, rewarded by a slight sparkle in her deep green eyes.
"No."
"Would ye be refusin' ta dance with me then?" Liam leaned away from her, challenging her.
"If ya be askin'."
"On All Saints Day?" Liam asked incredulously.
"I shouldn't be talkin' ta ya even," Willow glanced around.
"Surely no one could object ta me talkin' ta ya," Liam grinned, reaching for her hand.
"'Tis the talkin' that leads to the objectin'," Willow again parried.
"Then we should stop talkin'," Liam pulled her up into his arms and onto the dance floor.
She had danced with him, talked with him, and further agreed to meet. It took months for him to even kiss or embrace her, but his lil bit o' Irish fire was worth every minute of waiting. When she had finally told him about Captain Welford pursuing her, it took everything in him not to spirit her away from the clutches of the English.
Willow sighed, turning in the Irishman's arms, causing him to focus on the present rather than the past.
"I love ye Willow," he murmured against her hair.
****
"Why dunna ye wan' ta leave?" Liam asked, reluctantly lacing up the back of Willow's dress.
Willow giggled, as his fingers caressed her flesh,'innocently', yet again.
"Liam. I canna. Ma bein' so sick, an' I'm afraid...," she bit her lip slightly turning to face him, tears rimming the green depths of her eyes.
"He will never harm ye," Liam vowed, pulling her into his arms.
"'Tis not me I worry about Liam."
"Ye think I'm gonna leave ye?" he asked softly.
"No," Willow answered immediately.
"I canna leave ye, I l-" Liam's sentence was interrupted by a rough hand pushing him back and away from Willow.
She leapt to her feet, clutching her chemise to her chest, stumbling backwards to Liam, letting his strong arms assure her.
"Step back away from Miss Tibbot, sir," a burly red-coated British officer barked, thrusting his bayonet forward.
The rest of the guard fanned out around the two lovers, their weapons lowered, their faces set in stone. They parted slightly, as Captain Welford stared the pair down, his emotions unreadable in his steel-like blue eyes. Eyes that calmly took in Willow's state of undress. Only the slight clenching of his jaw belying his true feelings.
"Taking of advantage of a woman is a punishable crime Liam O'Connor," Welford ground out.
Liam puffed out his chest, sliding an arm around Willow. "Tis only punishable if she dunna want it," he returned.
Willow whimpered, she had been afraid of this moment since she had first met Liam O'Connor. She was always afraid that the British captain would take her away from everything she loved. She bit her lip; she would not let him take her freedom, or her will to love. Her eyes sought out Liam's. She would not let the British take this love from her.
Captain Welford frowned. He was used to being obeyed. "Step away from the lady," he ordered.
"Only if she wish it," Liam argued.
"Liam," Willow whimpered, grasping him close.
Welford drew his weapon, showing his instability for the first time. How dare she cuckold him, the man was a rake, a drunkard, and a womanizer; but she would take that into her bed before him?
"Last warning," he snarled.
Liam stood there, tightening his grip on Willow. "Never."
Welford smiled, snapping his fingers. His men came forward grabbing Liam's strong arms in their firm grasp. The Irishman had given him all the excuse he needed.
"No!" Willow screamed, clawing at their arms.
Welford grabbed her by the wrist, handing her off to his Lieutenant. He clenched his jaw shaking his head, rubbing his gloved fist.
"You Irish never seem to learn the concept that you are beneath the British."
THUD. A solid blow landed just below Liam's ribcage, knocking the wind from his lungs.
"You do not seem to understand what 'do not touch' means. Or that you will only have what we say you may have."
CRACK. Liam's nose split open, staining the white of Welford's glove.
"STOP! Please! Captain...John! Stop hurtin' him, please!" Willow cried out, the tears streaming down her face as she fought against her captors.
Welford examined his love with the same eyes that betrayed no emotion. "I told you Willow. I told you what would happen if you gave yourself to someone else."
"Please...I'll do anythin', let him go, please," she sobbed, begging him.
The British Captain grasped her chin firmly in his hand, wrenching her face to his. "I told you," he hissed, "I told you, and you knew. Now his blood is upon your head, his death will be on your soul for eternity!" he planted his lips firmly on her unwilling mouth, earning a scream from Liam.
The Irishman, enraged at Welford, began throwing the infantrymen left and right, fighting to get to Willow. Welford snapped around, a snarl set on his astute face. He raised his weapon, training the pistol on the bare chest of Liam O'Connor.
"His blood is now yours," he hissed, firing.
"NO!" Willow screamed, shoving herself away from the lieutenant, tackling Liam to the ground.
"Willow?!" Liam cried out, feeling her body go slack against him. He rolled her in his arms, tears stinging his eyes at the sight of the red staining her chemise.
"Yer safe," she sighed, reaching with red fingers to touch his cheek.
"Willow," Liam cried, clutching her close to his chest.
"Couldn't risk yer soul, ye had to be safe, ye have things to do Liam," Willow breathed.
"I love ya," her lover whispered against her lips.
"I ye," she returned, staring into his eyes until she saw no more.
"Willow," Liam clutched her lifeless body to him, sobbing into her silken tresses.
"Take him, leave the body," Welford choked, his pistol falling from his fingers, as he fell to one knee.
"YOU BASTARD! YE KILLED 'ER!!!" Liam looked up, rage in his eyes and leapt at the Captain.
He easily tossed aside the British soldiers, his intent upon only one thing, the death of Captain John Welford. He was deaf to the shouts and screams as he grasped his fingers around the slim white neck, the strangled look in the British officer's blue eyes bringing one-tenth the satisfaction of his vengeance. He heard the bones break beneath his muscular hands before Liam heard the last breath.
The soldiers stared at him, his chest heaving and bloody, his eyes wild, as he stood over the prone body of Captain Welford, roaring his victory to the heavens. Liam turned his crazed eyes to them, and they crashed through the forest, afraid for their lives.
****
Roy looked anxiously out of his one good eye at Liam. He had been in every night since he had been released for killing the English Captain. He would have been in jail longer than six months if his father had not bribed the governor. Of course, his father had to also bribe the governor from hanging him, so Liam was banished from the house indefinitely.
Willow had been buried in the place she had died, and her mother had soon followed her. Liam had not been the same since. He refused the wenches that sought to comfort him, did nothing but drink, and never said a word.
"Liam...have ya been t' see the grave?" Roy asked softly.
Liam head snapped up, and Roy stepped back at the pure rage and hurt that was contained in his eyes. "I-I'm just sayin' t' might make ye feel better."
"Nothin' canna make me feel better than her," Liam rasped out, throwing money on the counter and leaving the pub.
A glint of light caused Liam to pause outside the bar. A woman stood in the alleyway, the torches lining the streets glinting off her hair and features. It couldn't be. The intoxicated Irishman lumbered down the alley, only to be disappointed, it would never again be Willow. He had been so long without a woman. It would be so good to forget, just for a moment, how much it all hurt. He peered into her eyes. There was no trace of green. Only blue eyes and blonde hair.
"So, I'd ask meself...what's a lady of your station doin' alone in an alley with the reputation that this one has?" he asked, somewhat seductively.
"Maybe she's lonely," the woman replied.
"In that case, I'd offer meself as escort to protect you from harm and to while away the dull hours. 'Tis never good ta be alone."
"You're very gracious," she smiled up at him knowingly. "Yet are you certain you're up to the challenge?"
"Milady, you'll find that with the exception of an honest day's work, there's no challenge I'm not prepared to face. Oh, but you're a pretty 'ting. Where are you from? Not from around here," he just wanted to sink inside her softness, to remember, and to forget at the same moment.
"Around. Everywhere."
"I never been anywhere meself. Always wanted ta see the world, 'tis nothing here for me now ta stay for," he refused to tear up, refused to think.
"I could show you," she pushed herself forward, so unlike the shy love he had known.
"Could ye, then? I've never been shown anythin' by a woman."
"Things you've never seen, never even heard of," her sultry voice was piercing the intoxication that had addled Liam's brain.
"Sounds excitin'," he whispered, reaching up to touch her.
"It is. And frightening."
"I'm not afraid. Show me. Show me your world," show me one without pain, Liam thought.
"Close your eyes, and I will show you everything, for you have many things to do my boy," Darla whispered, her fangs poised over his neck.
****
Los Angeles
2003
"And...ta dah! We have a demon database!" Willow whirrled around in the chair, grinning at Angel and associates like a loon.
"Amazing," Gunn murmured, turning his attention back to his axe.
"Don't worry Willow, if it doesn't have a sharp edge, or ten tentacles Gunn won't think its anything special," Cordelia quipped, thumbing through a file.
Willow's luminous eyes sought out Angel's. "What do you think?" she asked softly.
Angel, who had been drowning in a memory, jumped slightly. "I uh, it's great," he responded somewhat gruffly. He glanced at his watch, and escaped up the steps.
"Whats with him?" Willow asked, watching him retreat.
"Angel has issues with certain times of the year."
"Ohh...like Christmas, cause he killed all of his family, and they can't be there to celebrate?"
Cordelia laughed, stretching her long legs, pointed a well-manicured nail at the calendar. A red circle was prominent on the day's date. "Not really, but there are certain times of the year he just wants to be left alone. I'm suprised he even wanted you here. Normally, we're all banished from the castle," the former cheerleader snorted.
"The man has his reasons," Wesley stepped from the office, a dusty book secure in his grasp.
"What's the occasion today?" Willow asked, peering at the red-circled day.
"We don't know, and I for one do not wish to pry," Wesley replied, accepting a cup of coffee from Cordy.
Willow nodded, her eyes roaming until they fixed on the stairs leading up to Angel's room. Her mind wondered for a moment, and ghostly fingers trailed up her spine. She shivered, turning her attention back to the computer.
****
Angel loved the darkness that the setting sun brought. He had always loved nighttime; day was too a harsh a reality, even for him. Cordelia had left for the day, no visions prompting her overtime, and even Wesley seemed to take the night off, probably to immerse himself in some dusty tome. Gunn, being Gunn, had high-tailed it off to some Gun & Knife show like a little boy at Christmas. The hotel was all his.
The vampire settled into his favorite chair, holding paging through his favorite book, content to settle into a long night of solitude. A small haunting piano tune snaked its way into his room, forcing him to investigate the music.
Willow. Angel narrowed his eyes at the witch/hacker, stretching in the center of lobby, the hotel's sound system apparently hooked up to her laptop's media player.
She had her eyes closed, moving in a conglomeration of Yoga, and Tai-Boxing movements. Slow, controlled, methodical movements that belied her innocent nature, it betrayed that the redhead was actually someone far more dangerous. Buffy had told him that since her battle with magic, Willow had taken to studying forms of martial arts. She wanted to rely on herself more; to learn control, so she could continue to use the magic that was now apart of her.
Angel's eyes studied her form, her movement, a smile stretching across his face. Perhaps she needed a partner?
Willow stepped up her movements, anticipating the music's shift, she began to mouth the words, a nameless need inspired by the lyrics spurring her on.
how can you see into my eyes like open doors
leading you down into my core
where i've become so numb without a soul
my spirit sleeping somewhere cold
until you find it there and lead it back home
The redhead snapped up, spinning rapidly, jabbing, kicking using the energy that the music built in her to pummel an invisible opponent. Angel watched, intrigued, as her method became more passionate.
wake me up inside
wake me up inside
call my name and save me from the dark
bid my blood to run
before i come undone
save me from the nothing i've become
Angel slid down the steps, removing his heavy sweater to reveal his black tank top underneath. He moved behind the woman, using gentle movements to spar with her.
Willow opened her eyes slightly, faltering in her concentration enough to hit the ground. She flipped back to her feet. She knew that her partner would not be harmed by her exercises, so she intensified her efforts.
now that i know what i'm without
you can't just leave me
breathe into me and make me real
bring me to life
wake me up inside
wake me up inside
call my name and save me from the dark
bid my blood to run
before i come undone
save me from the nothing i've become
bring me to life
They exchanged blows, striking the other with the intent to bruise, not harm. They moved with fluid grace across the floor, their fight becoming a dance, and Angel became entranced by the way Willow mouthed the lyrics. His lack of concentration landed him on his back, her heel pinned at his throat.
frozen inside without your touch without your love darling only you are the life among the dead
"Ready to admit defeat?" Willow asked breathlessly, amazed by the vampire's perfection and grace.
"Never," Angel set his features in a hard mask, grasping her foot, flipping her to her back. "Ye may get strong Willow, but I'm gonna be here to protect ya," he purred.
all this time i can't believe i couldn't see
kept in the dark but you were there in front
of me
i've been sleeping a thousand years it seems
got to open my eyes to everything
without a thought without a voice without
a soul
don't let me die here
there must be something more
bring me to life
*"I'll always protect ya."* Angel froze. He had spoken those words, before now. To a woman, but when?
"Angel?" Willow's voice broke through his reverie.
"I'm sorry, I, I just remembered something," Angel mumbled, climbing off the floor.
"It's okay. Do you want to talk about it?" Willow asked, grasping his arm.
"No." Angel murmured.
"Ya can't shut me out Liam O'Connor."
Angel whipped around. "What?" he asked, his eyes wide.
Willow took a step back. "I told you that you don't have to shut me out, I'm here for you," she whispered.Everything had been fine, and suddenly his entire demeanor had changed.
The vampire glanced around the lobby, the pounding of the rythmic bass not betraying anything.
"Just like that?" he asked, looking back at the redhead.
Willow wrinkled her brow. "How else would I say it?" she asked.
"I don't know, for a moment there...nevermind."
"Lets get something to drink, it must've been my punches that got you all muddled," Willow joked, steering the vampire towards the kitchen.
now that i know what i'm without
you can't just leave me
breathe into me and make me real
bring me to life
wake me up inside
wake me up inside
call my name and save me from the dark
bid my blood to run
before i come undone
save me from the nothing i've become
bring me to life
A ghostly apparition stepped from behind a marble column, smiling gently. "Ye have things to do Liam," she sighed, her green eyes examining her surroundings.
~Part: 2~
"Are you sure you're okay?" Willow asked as she paused at the doorway to her room. They had talked briefly in the kitchen before she had noticed the early hour.
Angel wanted to shake his head and tell her that he was fine. He wanted to sink into his chair with Dostoevsky and brood. It was her eyes that convinced him to tell her the truth; liquid pools of truth serum that forced his lies to die on his lips.
"I don't know, it's strange," he paused, considering his own words.
"What's strange?" Willow inquired, leaning against the door frame.
Angel sighed in frustration, tracing a water mark on the wallpaper with the tip of his finger; in an effort to sort his emotions into words. "Our conversation, it just brought on a feeling of deja vu."
"You have lived over two hundred years Angel, that has to have happened to you more than once."
"But I should remember," the vampire protested. His growing age didn't bring senility.
Willow bit her lip slightly, contemplating asking a question. She took a small breath and looked into Angel's eyes confident that her words would not bring harm. "Angel, could this have anything to do with your red-letter day?" she asked softly.
Angel thought for a moment. He had circled the calendar in red today. He had forgotten about that. No wonder Cordelia had been looking at him strangely all day. "I'm not sure," he murmured.
"What was today?" his companion inquired, in an even softer tone than before.
He sighed, his fingers running through his well-gelled hair. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure. I have all the memories of Angelus, but sometimes, they are, distorted by the demon. I just know that whatever happened on this date was not a happy memory."
"You haven't ever tried to probe deeper into this; maybe there is a lot that you could find out about yourself." Willow suggested, thinking of numerous meditations and incantations that could be of assistance.
Angel smiled slightly. Willow was always trying to be of help; even now her skin was flushed with a multitude of thoughts, and her eyes shone with a child-like eagerness. His thoughts became somber; a prick of conscience, as he also considered the mortality of his young friend. She, too, would leave him one day, alone. The thought angered him; he did not want Willow to be taken away like…
"Angel?" Willow's frightened voice startled him out of his reverie.
He had been advancing on her, in full vamp-face. Her fear and tempo of her heartbeat assaulted his ears, and he immediately retreated. "God, I'm sorry Willow, I didn't mean; God!" Angel turned away, repulsed by his own actions.
"W-what happened?" the witch tried to keep the tremble from her voice. She knew that her friend would never hurt her, but his entire demeanor had changed in an instant.
"I don't know, one moment I'm thinking about, well, uh, I'm just not sure," he answered.
Willow reached forward, touching his shoulder. She still smelled of fear, but she was trying to comfort him.
Angel closed his eyes, guilt and need warring within him. He gave up and pulled her into a tight hug, burying his face in her crimson hair.
Willow stiffened, never being hugged by Angel in this manner before. Her arms went around him; she forced herself to relax, and not to feel the hard form pressed against her body.
"I suddenly just feel lost, and for a master vampire, that is an unusual feeling."
The words were whispered, and if his head had not been bent towards her ear, Willow would've probably not heard them.
"Oh, Angel. You're not lost; you are right here," Willow whispered, caressing his back in a soothing gesture.
Angel had to smile; her words held the just right amount of Willow-y goodness to them. "I'm being what Spike would call a ponce, "he leaned back releasing her from his embrace.
"Most likely Spike would have a few other choice phrases to add to it, but he'd probably be calling you a ponce right now," Willow agreed; her tone light and teasing.
Angel laughed, catching her yawn. "I should let you get to sleep," he said apologetically.
"That would be nice," Willow agreed, turning into her room, "Angel?"
"Yes Willow?" her host turned back to her.
"Let's talk about this tomorrow, we can't have the Champion for the PTB feeling lost."
"I doubt it's anything," Angel replied reluctantly.
"I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel something around you," Willow quietly intoned. Her eyes flicked from his gaze to the carpet.
"What do you mean?" the vampire took a step closer to the girl he had known for years.
"Something feels different, and I want to find out what it is," she explained.
"Is it the soul?" Angel asked, frankly. "'Cause I have chains in my room for that."
Willow's gaze clouded for a moment, and to the vampire, it almost looked like lust. "Uh, no, I don't believe so." she stammered.
Angel smiled. "Good night Willow." he turned and walked down the hallway to his bedroom, the smile still on his face.
~Part: 3~
"No, it's been fine, really," Willow giggled into the phone. "No Xand, I haven't been deprived of Twinkies or anything; Angel's been the perfect gentle-vamp."
Cordelia raised her eyebrow, neatly shutting the file drawer with a slam.
"Cordy says hi, by the way."
"I do not," the brunette sniffed disdainfully.
"Well, I don't want to run up Angel's phone bill, but if you could have Giles Fed-Ex me the book. Thanks Xander, I owe you a million," Willow paused, listening to a comment from her friend, "not dollars, Drakes Cakes maybe, but definitely not dollars."
Angel started at the sound of laughter from the downstairs lobby. He peeked his head around the corner, watching as Willow attempted to hang up the telephone in a fit of giggles.
"I don't see why you still think he is so funny," Cordelia commented, a bit of her old Queen C attitude coming out.
"Because Xander is the only one who completely understands that his humor is often necessary; especially when you least expect that you'll need it," Willow said with a grin.
"Gee, averted a few too many apocalypses lately?" Cordy raised her eyebrow slightly, a grin on her face. "What is he sending?" she murmured, changing the subject.
"A book on vampire families," Willow commented, ignoring the end of
the world reference, and logged onto the Internet.
"What for?"
Willow glanced at her friend over her laptop. "A private interest project," she said levelly, with a slight smirk.
"Oh. Okay," Cordelia turned back to her files, making notes here and there.
Angel chuckled to himself. Willow was the only one he knew that could deal with Cordelia in such an adult manner. Wesley just sputtered and turned red, Gunn just ignored her. He sighed, preparing himself for the day ahead, and walked down the steps.
****
She watched him move around his home, noting in the many ways that he had changed. Liam wasn't himself anymore. He had pain in his eyes, but a strength that shone with a luminous light in his aura.
Willow looked behind her; she was sitting on Angel's desk, watching him read through his case files. "I dinna expect him to be the same," she assured herself; a small part of her sad. It had been more than a hundred years since she had visited him last. The changes scared her.
"He's been through more tha' I ever expected," she leaned down, brushing ghostly fingertips over his temple. The vampire looked up straight at her, and shivered.
"Willow?" he called.
"Right here," the ghost replied, her eyes shining a brilliant green for a moment.
A shadow clouded the doorway. "Yes Angel?" the living, breathing, fleshly woman asked. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling.
The ghost frowned at her human counterpart, turning from her position in front of Angel to watch the interaction between the two.
"I, uh, felt weird again," he could think of no better way to put it. Great job soul-boy, next, hold your hand to your brow and faint.
The witch frowned. "How weird? Like, I'm gonna loose my soul weird, or there was another strange feeling-type-weird?" she babbled.
Angel thought for a moment. "Like, well, excuse the expression, someone-had-walked-over-my-grave-weird."
"Do you have a grave?" Willow thought out loud, waving her hand dismissing the thought, "not that it's important, but it's an interesting thought, do all vampires keep their graves? Are they all born in them or can they wake up somewhere else? I mean, wouldn't that just be a remnant of wh-,"
Willow's chatter was silenced by Angel's hand fitting firmly over her mouth.
"Mmmph," the witch protested.
"Shhh," Angel lifted a finger to his mouth, showing the female that he wanted quiet. He carefully removed his hand when she nodded in affirmation. Angel crept around the room, his vampiric senses on edge. He scented the air, trying to find out what exactly was bothering him.
"Angel, maybe there isn't anything here a-,"
Ghost Willow shrieked suddenly at the appearance of Angel's demonic visage, the lights in the hotel flickering wildly, before blowing out in quick succession.
"Willow! Get down!" Angel bellowed; tackling his friend beneath his desk, as the multiple bulbs in his office blew in a shattering chorus of glass.
The ghostly Willow stopped screaming suddenly, looking around. "Wha is that? What happened ta his face? 'Tis not his real face, oh Liam, what did she do ta ya?" she whispered, melting away.
"Angel, mph. As nice it is to have you on top of me, I really would like to breathe about now," Willow complained, not at all minding the vampire being where he was. She blushed suddenly at her statement. Sure, let the vampire know that you want his sexy body.
The vampire looked at the woman he had cradled beneath his body and resisted the urge to rock his hips forward. He didn't however, resist the urge to purr.
Willow's eyes went wide. Angel was purring as he was lying on top of her; it was hard enough resisting his sexy, I'm-in-need-of-redemption, and, by-the-way-aren't-I-an-extremely-sexy-once-bad-good-guy, personality. Damn, she was getting horny. A sudden realization that vampires could smell arousal caused Willow to start shoving at the muscular shoulders of the body still lying on top of her.
"Angel! I need to breathe!" she protested, squirming from beneath him, trying to avoid cutting herself on the glass that was littering the office.
Angel reluctantly moved off of her, helping her to stand.
Willow huffed slightly, unable to look into those chocolate eyes, unable to see his disgust.
The Irishman tilted his head as Willow successfully escaped him into the main lobby. He grinned, scenting the air lightly. He had turned the redhead on, it seemed. Angel gloated over the fact that he still had the power to influence women with his presence. The grin faded when he felt, Spike. The souled vampire darted out into the lobby, just in time to see Willow being snatched into the blonde's arms.
"Get your hands off of her!" Angel snarled, sweeping across the floor to land a punch on Spike's left temple.
"Angel, no!" Willow cried, getting in between sire and childe.
"What the hell are you doing here Spike?" Angel demanded. He ignored the fact that Willow had rushed to his fallen childe's side. He chose to keep his face blank, just a hint of yellowing eyes betraying his emotions.
"Oi Peaches, great to see you too," Spike climbed to his feet with Willow's assistance. He rubbed his head dejectedly, smirking at the Poof as he slid his arm around Willow's waist.
"What are you doing here?" Angel repeated gruffly. He took a step forward, his forehead becoming slightly ridged.
Willow narrowed her eyes. "Spike brought me the book I asked Giles for," she stated, imitating Spike's gesture by putting her arm around his waist.
Spike held up his hand and waved, with said book in hand. "Red needed it, and bloody Fed-Ex could never be as fast as the Big Bad, right luv?" Spike tickled her side, rejoicing in the murderous look on the Poof's face.
Willow grinned. "Never."
Angel growled despite himself. It went unsaid that he didn't like the apparent camaraderie between his childe and Willow. He didn't like it one bit.
~Part: 4~
Willow resisted the urge to smirk 'a la Spike' when Angel pouted all the way to his suite. It was interesting to see a two hundred-plus year old man acting like a disciplined three year old.
He didn't have to hit Spike. Willow thought, turning her attention back to the cartoon that she and Spike were watching.
Angel snuck one last look at the couple in Willow's rooms, reclining comfortably on her bed, watching Power Puff Girls. He had asked the redhead to join him in the downstairs dojo for a workout, but the redhead refused, stating that she wanted to spend some time with Spike. Angel growled. Whatever happened to people sitting stiffly in parlors? Nooo, women have to lie on beds with men, watching...cartoons!!
Spike raised his eyes from the TV to the vampire almost standing out of sight. He grinned. It seemed the Poof had some feelings for the redhead. He started to rub Willow's back, almost chuckling as he heard Angel's growls get louder, and then diminish as he slammed the door to his bedroom.
"You didn't have to do that," Willow murmured, never taking her eyes off the show.
Spike did chuckle then. "Couldn't help it luv," he nuzzled her neck, enjoying her slight sigh.
"You aren't going to use me to piss him off Spike," she stated in the same even voice as before.
"Who said I'd be usin' you?" Spike replied.
Willow rolled away from him, raising her eyebrow and pursing her lips slightly in a decidedly pointed expression.
"Oh hell, Red," Spike complained, "you never will accept the fact that maybe a bloke would want you for you, eh?"
Green eyes regarded him. "That's not it, and you know it."
Spike shook his head. "When are you going to tell him?"
"I'm not sure I should," Willow sighed, picking up the remote.
"Why not?"
"How do I tell him? Hey Angel, I might have the big-deal, almost-naughty, maybe-you-might-loose-your-soul, type of feelings. Oh, and just ignore the fact that I am Buffy's best friend?" Willow babbled in exasperation, wagging her head.
Spike chuckled. "So you call Giles for a book on him instead? Sorry luv, its not that type of book, but if you have a need," the vampire waggled his eyebrows lasciviously.
"Spike!" Willow rolled her eyes. "Where is the book?"
The blonde vampire slid off the bed to his small duffel bag, he rooted around for a moment,and then extracted two tomes. "One is the book you requested, the other, I thought might help ya."
Willow took the volumes eagerly, pouring over the titles, skimming her fingers over the contents. "Spike, one of these is from Angelus' home town. It's the town record! How did you get this?!" the witch demanded.
Spike grinned. "Drusilla wasn't the only hand-off I got from Angelus; he left a great deal of memorabilia behind. Some of it has proved quite useful over the years." Spike said with an odd grin.
Willow paused, shrugging her shoulders. She opened the town registry, beginning to read intently.
Spike smiled slightly, settling down next to her, snatching the remote as her attention waned.
****
"Spike! Spike!"
"Wot? Wot the 'ell?!" Spike roused himself from a sound sleep, only flailing slightly.
"Look!" Willow shoved the book into Spike's face.
Spike blinked his eyes blearily, trying to clear them. He seized the book, reading slowly aloud. "April 20, 1753. Death: Miss. Willow Elaine Tibbot. Shot in the back by Captain John Welford. Death: Captain John Welford. Murdered by strangulation," he looked up, "so?"
"Read on," Willow motioned.
"April 21, 1753. Incarceration: Liam O'Connor, for the murder of Captain John Welford," Spike looked at the redhead with wide eyes, "Peaches killed someone before he was turned?"
"Apparently. The interesting thing is Spike, the dates."
"What about 'em?" the vampire asked.
Willow sighed patiently."What is today?" she urged.
Spike thought for a moment. "The twenty-first of April."
"Right, yesterday, was his 'day'. He had it circled in red. When I asked him what happened on that day, he said he couldn't remember, he just knew that it wasn't a good day," Willow jumped up, pacing wildly.
"Again, luv, so?"
"Today was the day that Liam killed the captain, but it was yesterday was the day that was circled."
Spike stared back at the book. "Doesn't make sense, why have it yesterday, when he killed the captain today?"
"Look in the back, sometimes the record-keepers would keep their own notes with more details," Willow anxiously motioned, picking up the other book that Giles had sent, rifling through it.
Spike turned the pages, almost eager to find out why the Poof was, well, acting poofy.
The two researchers spent the next two hours in silence. Spike read patiently, sitting still for the first time in ages. He sat up quietly, reading over a passage in the back of the town history. "Red," he whispered urgently.
"Mm?" Willow roused herself where she had been sleeping on Spike's shoulder.
"Look what I found," he pointed to a paragraph.
Willow rubbed her eyes, taking the book into her hands. "April 20, 1753. Willow Elaine Tibbot shot by Capt. Welford. The English Captain had been wooing the red-haired girl for some time, and she always refused his advances. Roy, the barkeep, testified at the inquest. He stated that Willow Tibbot and Liam O'Connor had been involved since the All Saints Festival, 9 months prior. They had kept their relationship a secret, because Willow was afraid of Captain Welford. When he discovered them together, he went mad with rage and tried to hurt Liam. When Welford drew his pistol, Willow lept in front of her lover; taking the bullet herself. Liam then killed Captain Welford with his bare hands, according to the foot soldiers that had accompanied their Captain," Willow looked up, tears in her eyes, "Spike," she whispered.
"Go on Red," the vampire encouraged.
Willow turned back, and began reading again. "April 21, 1753. Liam O'Connor was arrested, tried and sentenced to hanging. His father pleaded with the Governor, who acquiesced to a six months sentence, as well as the loss of some O'Connor lands and monies. Master O'Connor was all too willing to agree, though Liam was banished from the house. Note: After his release, Liam did nothing but drink, yet would refuse any female company. He then disapeared; a short time after, his entire family was murdered in a gruesome fashion."
"Oh Goddess," Willow whispered, shutting the book slowly, silently, as if the slam of the book would awaken the past.
"Never knew the ponce had a girl," Spike grumbled. Especially a girl named Willow.
"That's how Darla found him, alone, missing his love," Willow shook her head.
"Wonder why he can't remember though," Spike mused. "Red, isn't it strange about the girl?"
Willow thought for a moment, standing. "Whats so strange?" she asked, reaching for her messenger bag, and fishing out her spell book.
"Her name was Willow," Spike hesitated, wondering how to put his feelings into words.
"Uh huh," Willow commented, flipping through her spell book's pages eagerly.
"Red hair? Anything that seems familiar?" the vampire sighed in exasperation.
"Spike, a lot of Irish women had red hair, and as to the name, its a pretty common name," Willow explained reasonably, her finger alighting apon the correct incantation.
Not in the Poof's time Red. Willows were trees, not pretty young girls. "What are you lookin' for?" Spike dismissed the earlier conversation, he wouldn't push the subject now. He yawned; dawn was approaching soon.
"A spell."
"Naw, thought you were lookin' on how to seduce me, but a spell makes sense in a bloody spell book," Spike rolled his eyes.
"Angel said that he could feel a presence, and earlier today, when he was trying to figure out what exactly it was, he shifted into demon face. Exactly at that moment, all the lights surged and blew. Why would they do that?"
"The Poof is cheap on wiring?" Spike yawned again. He really just wanted to sleep.
"What if yesterday wasn't only an important day for him? What if it was important for someone else?"
"The bint he was shaggin'?" Spike looked up as Willow began unbuttoning her blouse, "whatcha doin' luv? Not that I'm complainin'."
"Skyclad," Willow blushed, "if you'll step out, I can cast this spell quickly, and then,"
"No way, Red," Spike grinned, looking like the proverbial wolf about to eat little Red Riding Hood, "yer spells have a tendency to go bang rather than poof, I'll stay right here, just to make sure yer all safe."
Willow contemplated the comment for a moment, her reddening cheeks spreading throughout her body. He did have a point, but this was Spike, nice sexy Spike. The redhead paused, her self-commentary freaking her out for a moment. Just when did I start thinking that Spike was sexy? She sighed, redirecting her attention to the conversation.
"You will be able to control yourself right LUV?" She attempted to mutter in her most sarcastic voice possible.
Spike growled; he hoped so.
Willow stripped naked, invoking her circle quickly. She offered a prayer to her goddess of pure intent, and then settled down into a meditative position, the incantations flowing from her lips. She needed no herbs or candles, just to search for the right spirit.
"Ya dinna need to go through all of that," a Irish Brogue slid over, and into the room as Ghost Willow appeared.
Spike jumped up, immediately defensive. "Oh bloody hell!"
Willow closed her circle, offering the appropriate thanks. "What is it?" she gasped, hauling her clothes back on as fast as possible.
"Can't you see?" Spike's eyes were wide.
"I haven't let 'er see meself."
"She's here, isn't she?" Willow asked.
The blonde vampire just nodded numbly.
"Why can't I see her?" Willow turned slowly, looking.
" 'Cause I be wantin' to know, what do ya want wit' me Liam," Ghost Willow appeared, her hands on her hips.
Willow yelped, her eyes wide. "H-h-how?" she asked.
"How wot?"
"How come you look like me?" Willow trembled.
The ghost grinned. "Will love, I am ye! Yer just a different reincarnation of me. Yer you, I'm me, just different times," she explained reasonably.
"Uh, right," Willow straighened her clothes nervously.
"Yer in love wit' him? Is that why ya want me?"
"Am I ever that blunt?" Willow asked Spike. The vampire, which still hadn't spoken, shook his head.
"Look, bein' dead will do that to ya. I just want to know da truth."
"I really like Angel, so..."
"Angel? Why does he call hisself that? What t'was wrong wit' his face?" the ghost demanded, hands on her hips.
Willow sighed. "Let me explain."
~Part: 5~
"If ye be in love with Liam, whatcha doin' in 'ere wit 'im?" the ghost inclined her head towards the blonde vampire.
Willow sighed. "It's a long story, but Spike is..."
"Spike? Angel? Ya have strange names in this cent'ry."
"Look, Willow, I mean, uh Ghost Willow, er," Willow paused, looking to her companion in consternation. He just shrugged a lit another cigarette, one of many.
"Call me Wisp," the ghost settled down finally, after peering at Spike with interest.
"Okay, Wisp. Spike is Angel's childe. He made him into a vampire.
Spike is here with me because..."
"The chit won't tell me she's in love with me, so I stay around until she finally admits it," the blonde vampire leered suggestively.
"Spike! No,no, that's not true, I mean, yeah, I love Spike, but uh, oh goddess, help me!" Willow prayed, burying her face into her blankets.
Wisp eyed the human skeptically. "Ye be wantin' two men?"
"No! I, uh," Willow blushed, as the mental imagery at Wisp's suggestion popped into her brain.
"So?" Wisp pressed.
Willow looked her double dead in the eye. "I want your help with
Angel, Spike is another matter entirely," she stated simply.
Spike raised his eyebrow slightly. He had always teased the witch about her feelings for him, but never thought that she'd realize that his teasing was just a cover. He actually liked the chit. If she felt the same way. He mentally shook himself. Women always went for his Sire; Willow was no different.
Wisp eyed her surroundings, sighing. "I canna possibly tell ye all ye want ta know. How do ye even know 'tis gonna help ye? Liam is not who yer Angel is."
Willow bit her lip slightly. "No, Liam is not who Angel is, but Liam is a large part of what makes up Angel's humanity. I know and understand his demon, but his human self is still a mystery to me."
"Ever think of askin' the poof yourself?" Spike murmured, finishing the last of his Lucky Strike.
"Tha' would make the most sense," Wisp agreed.
"Yes, but," Willow blew a piece of hair from her eyes, "Angel doesn't remember! He is unwilling to let himself remember; he doesn't even remember you! The great love of his life, who he killed for! How will he remember who he was, if he doesn't remember that he loved?"
The room was silent for a moment, the redhead's words clearly affecting the ghost in the room. "He dunna remember me?" she whispered, silvery tears adorning her cheeks.
Spike shook his head. The poof didn't deserve these women pining over him. What was it with the tortured soul routine? Was it the hair gel? Did it have some mystical properties that Spike just didn't get? He growled, leaving the room, intent on buying one, or four more, packs of cigarettes.
Willow watched him go, sighing sadly. Wisp watched the newest version of her self, marveling at the human spirit and its ability to love blindly.
"Do ye really love 'im?" she asked softly.
"Spike?"
"Li-, er, Angel."
Willow smiled slowly, almost shyly. She had admitted to Spike that she had fuzzy, naughty feelings for Angel, but had never been so courageous to state her emotions for the vampire into words that were irrevocable.
"I think I do. I don't know, it's very strange. One could look at us and wonder what we could give the other, and how could he be with me?"
Willow paused, thinking. She had run these reasons over and over in her mind more than once. Often, she could just picture her friends in her mind, arguing, crying, and asking why.
"Why do ya question it?" Wisp inquired. This girl had so many doubts left inside her; she would not be prepared to take any action until she had resolved them.
"I have to, they *will*," Willow argued. Buffy will scream and cry.
She will accuse the witch of betraying her, accuse her of stealing her soulmate. Xander will feel that she was abandoning him, siding with the man he hated more than anything else. Giles will be crushed, the monster that she loved had killed his lover without remorse.
"Yet are ye prepared to stand up to 'em? To prove to yer friends, that 'e is what ye want, what ye need?" Wisp paused for a moment, "Are ye prepared ta give yer life for 'im Willow?"
"I risked my soul to restore his. I would die to save him. Yes Wisp,
I would," Willow stated without stutter. She looked up into eyes that were so like her own, her conviction clear.
A gunshot echoed through Wisp's mind, and she could remember the words that Liam whispered as she died. Would she risk herself for this human?
Would she risk her immortal existence so that...she did not even have to question it. Willow Tibbot had given her life for Liam, and she would give her immortality so that he might live, with love.
"Wisp?" Willow broke through the ghost's thoughts.
"I have an idea of what we be needin' to do," she whispered.
"Let's do it."
~Part: 6~
Angel leaned against the door to the basement dojo, clearing his throat to gain Willow's attention.
Willow looked up at the sudden sound, a bright smile adorning her face at the shape in the doorway. "Hey," she unfolded her legs from beneath her, interrupting her meditations.
"Hey, uh, I wanted to tell you that we got a case, and Gunn, Wes, and I are going out to take care of it."
"Anything you need help with?" Please say no.
"Not really; a little old lady called and said that she had some scaly things in her basement. It should be pretty easy to dispatch," Angel disliked leaving her alone. Despite her abilities, LA was still a dangerous place to live in. Besides, Spike was here. For once, Angel missed the cage that had been in the basement; it would've been useful to contain his annoying childe.
"Well then, guess I'll be seeing you later," Willow commented, walking over to the stereo system, selecting a CD to workout to.
"Yeah, uh, you haven't seen Spike, have you?" Angel tried to comment somewhat casually.
"He stormed out earlier in a tizzy. He'll probably be back just before dawn," Willow smirked, noting the somewhat jealous inflection of her friend's voice.
"Oh, well, if you happen to see him, tell him there is blood in the fridge," Angel grinned, leaving the redhead to her workout.
"Bye, Angel," Willow called. She stared off into space, a strange smile on her face.
Wisp had told Willow that she could possess her for a short period of time, three days, to be precise. This would give Willow enough time to search through Ghost Willow's memories, to learn exactly who Liam had been. It was the best solution, short of time travel. Willow slipped the CD into the player, her fingers dancing over the controls as she selected a track that she could train to. Spike hadn't returned since his temper tantrum, and Wisp had disapeared two hours ago.
Willow was determined to use this short time alone, to center herself for what she was going to do tonight. She just hoped that it worked.
You don't remember me, but I remember you
I lie awake and try so hard not to think of
you
But who can decide what they dream?
And I dream I do...
Willow started her workout simply, stretching, lengthening her muscles till they were warm, ready for action. She let the lyrics, as they always did, propel her motions.
She attacked the punching bag, settling into a routine of jabs, hooks, and undercuts. She began to add kicks, making the bag swing.
I believe in you
I'll give up everything just to find you
I have to be with you, to live, to breathe
You're taking over me
Wisp watched the human, unseen. This reincarnation of herself had passion and fire. That was an inherent trait, much like the red hair and green eyes. There was something different about this girl that Wisp did not see in herself. A darkness, a determination to fight. Wisp, while alive, had been impassioned, had been determined. Willow though, almost had a perceptible hardness that could be seen as she concentrated, especially in her workouts.
Have you forgotten all I know
All we had?
You saw me mourning my love for you
And touched my hand
I knew you loved me then
Willow tucked and rolled beneath the bag, coming up to land a round-house kick against the side of the bag. She rolled to the side again, moving across the floor, turning, kicking till she was almost dizzy. She had to push herself as far as she could go, because only then could she be truly tested. She had found out in Sunnydale, that once one is broken, one must be the strongest, or the darkness would take over. Willow would be strong, and she would conquer her darkness. She would show Angel his past, and hopefully find his love in return.
I believe in you
I'll give up everything just to find you
I have to be with you, to live, to breathe
You're taking over me
Wisp took a deep breath, even though she didn't have to. Now was the time to seep into Willow's consciousness, to become one with her, and share herself with the mortal. Wisp knew that once she did this, she risked never being able to visit the Earth-plane again. It was worth the risk, if Angel was able to love again. There was one more danger that the ghost refused to think about; she might weaken the bonds between this world and the spirit world. Welford's death was linked so closely with Wisp's, that when she possessed Willow, there was a chance that his spirit could break free as well. Wisp bit her bottom lip. She knew the odds, and she did not have to question her decision.
Willow felt a cold breath upon her neck, unseen fingers climbing up her spine. She froze for a moment, her hair standing on end, and she could not breathe. Willow choked, holding her throat, falling to her knees. She clutched at herself, black spots spreading across her line of vision. Suddenly, she fell forward, air flow restored, and she sucked oxygen into her body greedily.
I look in the mirror and see your face
If I look deep enough
So many things inside that are
Just like you are taking over
She breathed evenly, her mind confused for a moment. It felt cluttered, as if someone was trying to shove something into her head. Willow climbed to her feet, though she had not told her body to do so. Willow began to scream in her mind as she realized she was no longer in control of her own body. Her feet stopped in front of a mirror in the basement bathroom, and then Willow understood.
Like a mist around her, was Wisp's aura.
Willow relaxed, and regained her control. She smiled slightly, re-entered the padded floor area of the basement, and sat cross-legged on the floor. She took a breath, and closed her eyes.
~Part: 7~
Spike made his way through the crowded Downtown LA district, moving in and out of the late night clubbing patrons like the predator that he was. He slipped into a party of young college students as they made their way into a trendy hotspot. He wanted blood and violence, and if he couldn't get that, he might as well drink.
I'm so tired of being here
Supressed by all my childish fears
If you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
Because your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
He sat down at the bar, deep enough in the dark to discourage pick up lines and random posturing from pricks and gays alike. The bartender took one look at him and slid a bottle of Jack his way, nodding in understanding.
Spike took the first shot, his lips settling into a firm line as he felt the liquid burn his esophagus with the promise of intoxication. It was always women that drove the vampire to drink. Love's bitch, her whore, her fucking, whipped, little nancy-boy puppy dog. He wasn't like Angel, he couldn't just swear to a life of celibacy, or a life without romance. Still, Spike mused, as he gulped the second draught of liquor down, that wanker managed to have more love, or opportunities to love, thrown at his feet, than Spike ever had.
These wounds don't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There is just too much that time cannot erase
After a couple of centuries of living in his Sire's shadow, one would've thought that the younger vampire could've found a way to deal with his insecurities.
"Truth is, no matter who we fuckin' are, we all have problems," Spike murmured into the glass. "We could be picture perfect, and there would be problems. Always whinin', the human race is. If everythin' seems all good n' dandy, then perfection is a *burden*. If we're bleedin' and abused, then we got mental issues. No one on this damn planet can go a fuckin' day without lamentin' about how fuckin' bad their fuckin' life *is*."
A few patrons that were brave enough to sit in close proximity to the vampire nodded in agreement. He raised his glass to them, after pouring himself another shot of the amber liquid. He always drank because of women.
When you cry I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your
fears
And I've held your hand through all of these
years
But you still have all me
Willow. That was a woman he never thought to drink about, or even to. She snuck into his existence. The redhead didn't blaze and burn the way the Slayer did. She didn't seduce with dark grace and candlelight like his Princess. She stood open armed, accepting. Once a timid, bookish, insecure girl, she had blossomed into darkness, and withstood the harsh light of day. She had become balanced; a fighter, yet she knew that she had been stripped bare for everyone to see, and she welcomed the scrutiny.
You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away all the sanity in
me
And she loved his Sire.
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There is just too much that time cannot erase
For once, Spike didn't fight. He didn't bully, and he hadn't attempted to shake the girl into love with him. He had stood by her, and suddenly, he was becoming aware of her own...affection for him? The vampire snorted, tipping the now empty bottle of Jack Daniels over. He wanted it to be possible. That somehow, just somehow, he had stolen into her heart the way she had invaded his. That although she craved Angel; she still needed Spike as well.
When you cry I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your
fears
And I've held your hand through all of these
years
But you still have all me
Spike stood up, rejoicing in the stamina that vampire's received with death. He wasn't quite drunk yet, but that would change before the sun rose. Though, he knew that once he sobered up, it would all still be the same.
I'd tried so hard to tell myself that you're
gone
But though your still with me, I've been alone
all along
He didn't want it to be the same. He wanted to love, and to be loved in return.
When you cry I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I've held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all me
A figure watched the vampire place some money on the bar and leave, his coat billowing behind him.
"Once you have been denied too many times, it becomes hard to ignore the anger. Once you have the anger, you have the strength to kill." it whispered, the flickering lights of the club illuminating a blood stained red and white uniform.
~Part: 8~
Willow felt the mirth bubble over into her consciousness, the tickling of air escaping her lips to form a giggle causing her to fight for focus.
"Did he really trip, or was that just a ploy to get you in his arms?" she asked Wisp within her mind.
"Hem. Haven't really ever figured tha' one out. Liam, 'e always was sneaky lad. Though, 'e did accomplish somthin' either way."
"True, Angel is always determined to win, no matter what. I admire his determination. Wisp, does it bother you?"
"What Willow?"
The human could tell that her spirit inhabitant was apprehensive. "Does it bother you that I love him?"
Wisp paused. "Ta tell ye the truth, yes. It hurts tha' I canna be the one to love 'im now, but ye have 'im, and 'e shall be loved by the both of us, in our own way."
"Thank you."
****
Angel didn't sense his childe as he entered the building. Wes, Gunn and he had dispatched the demons with a sprinkling of herbs and a few Latin phrases, almost making the vampire dissapointed. He really wanted to use his axe.
Angel allowed himself the shadow of a smile. Oh, too bad, guess that makes Spike an excellent target instead. He sighed, instead stowing the weapon in the large cabinet reserved for sharp and pointy things. Since Spike could be unaccounted for, the vampire wondered briefly where his red haired companion was. He could detect a faint heartbeat in the hotel, but she could be anywhere.
"Willow?" he called.
He climbed the stairs, realizing how tired he was. "Will?" he called again.
"Here," was the answering call.
The dark haired Irishman paused at the entrance to his rooms. No one usually entered his suite without invitation, and the fact that Willow, his Willow, was curled on his couch with a book sprawled on her lap, was an astonishingly bold move.
"I didn't expect to find you here," he stated, unsure at the tension he felt in the air.
Willow raised her chin from the book, her eyes a unusually luminescent green. They almost seemed to shimmer for a moment. She stared at him almost reverentially, the book sliding from her grasp.
"Angel," she whispered. She rose off the couch, her simple long blue dress swirling around her ankles. She approached him, the unabashed awe never leaving her eyes.
"Willow?" Angel asked; he felt the need to back away from the woman that he trusted with his life.
"Wisp, what are you doing?" Willow shrieked inside her head, fighting to gain control over her own body.
"I need ta, I need ta touch 'im Willow. Ta feel 'is skin, I need ta..."
"No!"
Willow stopped short of Angel, her hand extended towards his face. She shivered, dropping her arm, curling her slender fingers into fists and closing her eyes.
"Willow?" Angel inquired, his body was tensed; to run, or to comfort, he hadn't decided yet.
The redhead opened her eyes, giving him a wan smile. "I'm sorry Angel, I, I must've been having a waking dream. Do you ever have dreams that feel so real, and you never quite seem to wake from them?" she asked softly.
"Yes," the vampire answered simply. His guilt was a nightmare that chased him continually and never left.
"You were almost killed."
"In your dream?" Angel moved forward, taking her hand to pull her back to the couch.
Willow sat down comfortably, not relinquishing her grip upon his hand. She stroked his palm idly. "Yes."
"I'm not dying anytime soon, Wills," Angel attempted to lighten the mood, wondering what could be going through her head to give her eyes such a haunted look.
The witch paused, wondering how to convey her thoughts, her feelings. She wanted to tell him everything she had learned from Wisp, how she knew him. "You almost died when you were human, didn't you?"
"Probably, a lot of men didn't like me then," Angel chuckled.
Willow took a breath. She focused her glance away from the vampire she loved, seeing far-away, almost into the past. Her voice softened, taking on an almost dream-like qualitity to it.
"No, in my dream, you were almost killed by a man. A British officer, and I saved you," Willow got up, leaving him with her words. Perhaps…maybe, just maybe, he would find out what she meant on her own, and she wouldn't have to tell him what she had done to love him.
~Part: 9~
Angel stared after Willow, her words echoing and re-echoing. He sat numbly on the couch, only to leap to his feet again when he sat upon the hard corner of the book the redhead had been reading.
He picked up the tome, turning it so he could stare at the cover; a feeble attempt at distraction.
"Galway: Transactions, Deaths, Marriage, and Births," Angel read slowly, for the dates and some of the type had worn away with time. He was startled somewhat by the actual book, and even more alarmed that it was in the witch's possession. What would Willow be doing with a book about his home town?
He thumbed through a few pages,eyes scanning the words. Some of the ledger had been visciously dog-eared, causing the vampire to skip towards the back. He meticulously unfolded the abused corner, and began to read.That's when he saw it. His name. Startled, he read the passage, reading of a time he could not remember.
Realization dawned in the chocolate-brown eyes as Angel absorbed the information recorded, and dropped the book to the floor. He looked to the heavens, blame and accusation written in his features. "No," he choked, "it can't be true. It can't."
Angel's eyes rested once again at the book at his feet, and the pages that seem to beat in tune with the blood that he had spilled, even with a soul.
"No," the vampire moaned; his hands taking the position of prayer that he once believed would bring him salvation.
The fear, pain, and guilt coiled around the vampire, constricting him like a snake. Whispering into his mind his misdeeds, his own mumblings for release silent in his ears; no benediction would come from this dark descent down memory lane. He could remember everything but what he had read. The sights, the sounds, the people.
"How, how did I? Blessed Mary, Mother of God, how did I do this? Why canna I remember?" Angel prayed to the religion of his past to bring his memories into the future.
*****
Spike hated the feeling that something was looming over his shoulder. He had gotten enough of that as a fledge beneath Angelus. The Master Vampire had always been looming over his shoulder, patronizing him, questioning him. The shadow of that emotion was enough to make Spike feel very, very, cranky.
Long lost words whisper slowly to me
still can't find what keeps me here
When all this time I've been so hollow inside
I know you're still there
The ghost resisted an evil cackle. The vampire was on edge, forcing himself to keep from checking over his shoulder. Not that it would do the demon any good. Welford smirked, noting everything about the vampire, evaluating him like he would a battlefield. In the final war for Willow, it would not do to have a vessel that was weak. From what the Captain had observed, this William the Bloody, was in every way a match for his 'Sire', Angel. They both had the strength, super-healing, and agility of being a supernatural being. Yet, Spike had two advantages. One, he was tired of being second choice when it came to the women he loved. Second, he didn't have a soul.
Watching me, wanting me
I can feel you pull me down
fearing you, loving you
I won't let you pull me down
Something screamed inside Spike to run, to get away from whatever was behind him. To curl beside Willow, place his head in her lap, and beg her to love him. The demon in him smacked the love bitch down, and snarled. He was the Big Bad, and he was not intimidated by a mere *presence*. He turned, his face set in a deep scowl, his blue eyes tinged with gold.
Hunting you I can smell you - alive
your heart pounding in my head
"I know you're there, so why don't we dispense with the poofy cloak n' dagger routine, and get to the fightin'?" he growled.
The air shimmered, and Welford adjusted his uniform habitually. "I've been here for quite awhile vampire, and you are only now aware of my presence. Quite dissapointing," Welford tisked.
Watching me, wanting me
I can feel you pull me down
fearing you, loving you
I won't let you pull me down
Spike smirked at his fellow countryman. "I haven't ever exactly been the impressin' type, mate. Torture, killin', now those are the tricks o' my trade."
"That's what I've been hoping."
"Eh? Need to be tortured? Killed? That I'll gladly volunteer to do," Spike grinned, with more than a little fang showing.
"Volunteer or not, you'll do what I want," Welford hissed, loosing his corporeal form, and surging forward, enveloping the vampire in his ghostly essence.
Spike writhed against the misty force, fighting within him for control. He growled and cursed, as slowly he began to loose the battle for his own body. Finally, inert upon the pavement, his body stiffened, and stood. The patented smirk was firmly in place.
"Thank you much, *mate*," he said; the normal slovenly, Covent Garden speech polished to an appropriate Her Majesty's Naval shine.
"Oh, Willow?" he called out, a cackle not at all Spike's, sounding against the brick buildings of Los Angeles.
watching me, wanting me
I can feel you pull me down
saving me, raping me
watching me
****
Willow sat up, her heart pounding, Wisp screaming in her mind. "Goddess, what has happened?" she cried out.
~Part: 10~
"Please, please, talk to me," Willow pleaded, hoping. Still, Wisp was silent, paralyzed with fear of something she couldn't convey. The redhead had no idea of what to do. Time was running short, Wisp would be gone in less than 12 hours, and if there was a danger to being possessed by the spirit...the witch paused. She hadn't even thought of any potential drawbacks of a willing possession! Willow resisted the urge to slap her forehead; instead, she scrambled off her bed in search of her computer.
"It will be on my laptop, it has to be," she gasped, as she barreled down the hallway, leapt down the carpeted steps, and then slid on the waxed marble floor of the hotel lobby. She slammed into the chair, and booted up the computer. "Please, please, please," she chanted.
****
"Willow?" Angel called, his head aching. He lay inert on the carpet of his suite, a flood of memories, finally flowing through his consciousness. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, where it had hit the floor. He remembered everything. He remembered killing Welford; he remembered what it had been like to kill him, and he remembered Willow. Liam's Willow. The Willow of the twentieth century was identical to her Galway double. Yet, how did his Willow know about the officer? What had possessed her to ask Giles for the book?
"Possessed?" he asked himself slowly.
Didn't think of it, did ya Angel? Didn't think that maybe your sweet, innocent mortal could betray you? Could fabricate your memories so that she could...what? Wield power over you? Force ya to feel the knife of guilt twist for even more deeds that ya committed?
"No, Willow would never do that," Angel denied to his demon, forcing away the sibilant voice that threatened him.
So why don't ya ask her Angel? Ask her why.
Angel climbed to his feet, his jaw set, opened the door to his suite. He sniffed delicately, before following the scent of the red-headed witch down the stairs.
Willow looked up slightly as the dark haired vampire ambled towards her. "Heya, Angel, just doing some research," she chirped, hoping her hands didn't shake as she scanned her computer for information.
He stopped just before her, his arms clasped. He just stared; a soulful, dark look in those deep eyes. Slowly, Willow raised her eyes to his. He knew. She didn't know how he did, but he knew. She licked her lips nervously.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in a dangerous low tone.
"Angel, I," Willow began.
"You what? Didn't think I'd like you mucking around in my memories, knowing things about *me* that I didn't even know? Keeping the fact that you, your reincarnated self,and I were intimate? You, what? Didn't think it would effect me??"
"I..."Willow stammered, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She felt the familiar force of her spirit inhabitant surge forward, and she bent forward at the waist, relaxed asb she let Wisp take over. "She dinna do it ta hurt ya," the ghost replied, standing up.
Angel narrowed his eyes, he could tell, just by the accent, that this wasn't his Willow. "She hurt me anyway."
Wisp sighed. "Angel, we dinna have time for this," she began, looking at him, her heart melting as she did so, "I've missed ya, my Liam."
Angel closed his eyes, his memories plaguing him. She died so long ago; died saving him. "Willow, don't do that. You, you are not alive."
"I'm not, but she is. She loves ya just as much as I ever did," Wisp stared at him with a hard long look, her neck prickling again. She groaned.
"I...didn't know," Angel stammered.
"Pish, no consequence, we dinna have time! Listen, when I crossed over, I weakened tha' boundaries enough so tha' someone could pass wi' me, I knew there was a chance of tha', but I had ta do it. She wanted you ta love her so much, and...well, Welford crossed over too, I can feel him," the ghost babbled, feeling the creeping fingers of hysteria threatening to take her over again.
"He's just a ghost though, isn't he?" Angel questioned, immediately ready for battle.
"Could be, I doubt it. He'd have ta take someone, which could be difficult, you'd either have ta kill tha' person, or exorcise him," Wisp explained.
"I can get Wes and Cordy over here right away, we'll set it up. How do we get Welford here?"
Wisp looked at him with sad, green eyes. "He's already coming. He wants me," she said softly.