main characters: Willow, Angel
disclaimer; Willow, Angel and all other recognizable names/characters belong to Joss Whedon & the writers of BtVS. I make no profit from this.
distribution: NHA, WLS, Bite Me Please, Wic - anyone else please ask first
notes: set in season 2, before Buffy's birthday. For Gabrielle.
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Willow walked up to her house, frowning as she realized the light was on in her parent's bedroom. They'd probably be upset about her being out so late, even if she'd been at the school library the whole time. She'd have to claim it as time spent studying, the stopping a demon from killing dozens of people explanation - while true - would probably just get her into trouble. She unlocked the door, letting herself into the house as quietly as possible.
She was just about to put down her backpack when she saw the shoe. It was a woman's high heel, dark red leather with a strap that went around the ankle, and fallen on the carpet in the hallway. The biggest problem was that it shouldn't be there. Her mother was in Atlanta for the rest of the week. Sheila Rosenberg swore that you'd have to kill her before she'd ever wear red shoes. Willow didn't leave her shoes in the hallway and furthermore, didn't even own any high heels. So, who did it belong to?
Willow's fingers clenched around the backpack, and for a moment, she debated walking back out the door. Buffy'd already been out on patrol, she might have a decent chance... Cowardice won over dismay, and she moved as quietly as possible to her bedroom. Leaving the light off, she put the backpack in front of her door, and settled onto the bed, preparing to cry into her pillow until she slept. He'd promised that it wouldn't happen again. He'd promised...
As the tears flowed, Willow wondered if he'd ever really stopped. Did her father know how to be faithful, to be honest? Could he keep a promise? Any promise? He'd certainly broken enough little ones to her - trips to the zoo forgotten, recitals and programs missed, family outings canceled. It hurt to know that he'd failed on such a big one.
There was a soft tapping at the other door.
Sitting up, Willow wiped at her tears while moving across the floor. She didn't want whoever was there to disturb her father and interrupt. Things would get very ugly if that happened. Raising her finger to her lips in the gesture for quiet, she moved the curtain, revealing Angel's face.
"May I?" His words were a bare whisper as he nodded at the door.
Opening the door, she tried to smile. "You have to be very quiet."
"Right." He agreed, and tilted his head. "We wouldn't want to interrupt your parents."
"That's not my mother in there." Willow felt the tears well up again. "She's not home until Friday."
Angel's eyes widened, and he sighed. "oh."
"So, what brings you here?" Willow wanted to think of normal things, maybe another demon, or another of Buffy's old crushes. Anything to keep herself from thinking about what her father was doing upstairs, with a woman that wasn't her mother.
Angel fidgeted, looking sheepish. "I was trying to think about what to get Buffy for her birthday."
"Something nice." Willow looked at him, thinking that Buffy was a lucky girl. Well, okay, the chosen to fight and probably die horribly part was bad, but she got Angel out of the deal. "Not something all practical and functional, but something pretty, something that says you were thinking about her and just her."
His hand moved slowly, hovering a moment before landing on her shoulder. "It's... you aren't alone, Willow. You don't have to be brave all the time."
She almost didn't think about it as she moved closer, her arms sliding around him. Leaning her head against his chest, she sighed, her breath leaving slowly. "He promised that it wouldn't happen again."
It should have been Oz who comforted her. Oz, the sweet guy that she'd just started maybe-dating. They'd had coffee, and talked about various things, and she'd wondered if maybe, just maybe, he saw her as more than a study-buddy.
But it was Angel's arms that wrapped around her. It was Angel's shirt that became salt-soaked with her tears, and Angel's scent that enveloped her. He was the one whose hand rubbed up and down her back in a soft, soothing caress. Angel was the one who finally tucked the exhausted Willow into her bed, pulling her shoes away as she watched through sleep-heavy eyelids.
"Thanks for listening, Angel." The words weren't even loud enough to be a whisper.
"Any time, Willow." He had his own small smile now, and his fingers brushed over her forehead gently, almost like a caress. "I'm always here for you."
Willow smiled as he slipped out of her room. Angel couldn't fix everything, but at least he could hold her while she cried. It was almost enough.
End .