Rating: PG
Summary: Explanation of something in an episode-- friendship only, sorry.
Spoilers: Revelations, something seen of Lovers Walk
Feedback: Heck yeah, though I'd understand if you didn't for this one
Disclaimer: This is totally compliant with the world of Joss Note: This has been plaguing my mind for a long time, so I found a slightly Willow/Angel explanation. Though I warn you, there isn't really much Angel. Just read, please?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I can't belive you," Cordy grated at her boyfriend. "One minute, you're all, 'Angel should die,' and the next, it's 'Oh Buffy, I trust you because I can't stay mad at you. Go play with your suddenly returned undead honey, it's fine with me.' You are unbelievable."
"But in the goofy yet lovable fashion you've grown to adore, right?" Xander pleaded.
Cordelia rolled her eyes at him. "Whatever. So, do our plans this weekend include something other than the gory deaths of hideous hellbeasts?"
Xander smiled at her. "Actually, I was thinking we could all go to the carnival on the pier this weekend. Cotton candy, ferris wheel, cotton candy, Tilt-A-Whirl, hamburgers, cotton candy..."
"Clowns," Cordelia interrupted smoothly, an evil smile on her pretty face.
"Nyagh," Xander shuddered. "I'm focusing on the cotton candy."
"I noticed," Cordelia dryly replied, though the smile had turned genuine. "Okay, carnival it is."
"That's my Cordy," Xander grinned. "And hey, we can bring a camera, commemorate the occasion. I know you're dying for pictures of me to swoon over."
"I'd make a caustic remark," Cordelia answered, her voice flat, "But I really think it would be a waste of my gift. Anyway, I have to get to practice." She kissed Xander quickly but sweetly, and the fact that they were in the middle of a busy hallway made him swell with pride. "You tell Willow about the plan, okay?"
As she walked away, Xander found that all his pride had disappeared in view of his suddenly remembered guilt. "Tell Willow. Yeah," he muttered, turning slowly.
He walked towards the exit, looking for the 'other woman'.
***********
As it turned out, Willow found him first. Grabbing him firmly by the arm, she steered him down the sidewalk towards town.
"Uh," Xander began, only to be silenced by Willow's glare.
"For once, you are going to do the right thing." She returned her gaze to their path, and Xander could only guess at her meaning. He decided that he was in no mood to try and discover the workings of the female mind, so he returned to his original purpose.
"Do you want to go to the carnival this weekend?" he asked.
Willow stopped, and 'incredulous' could not describe the look she gave him. "Are you crazy?!" she squeaked.
"Probably, but that's not the point. Cordelia told me to ask you."
Willow blinked, suddenly comprehending. "Oh, with Cordelia, and presumably Oz and Buffy. A group. Yes, that sounds fun. Okay." Shaking her head, she pulled Xander ahead with new determination.
"What did you think-" Xander began.
"Never mind." Her voice did not encourage further discussion, so he dropped it.
"Where are we going?" he asked nonchalantly.
"To the hardware store," she replied. Xander looked at her profile for a moment, then he shrugged. "Okay."
*************
"What?!" Xander hissed, causing another inhabitant of the aisle to look at him in irritation.
"It's your fault, Xander. You're the one who got Faith all riled up about Angel, which is why she almost killed him, which led directly to her fighting with Buffy, and that fight, if you remember, was the reason the doors were broken in the first place."
"Willow, I still don't see how you reached the conclusion that I have to fix Angel's stupid door. It's not like he needs it. He's a vampire, so he doesn't feel the cold, besides which, this is California, which means there is no cold."
"His door is not stupid, it is broken, and it is your fault. Furthermore, there are actually two doors. I don't want to hear your reasons explaining why Angel doesn't need a door. He has a freaking hole in his wall, and since you are responsible, you are going to fix it. You owe him that, after sending a pissed off slayer after him and verbally attacking his girlfriend."
"Ex-girlfriend."
"Xander! Shut-up! Buy the nails and the hammer, and hurry up!" He glared back at her, but he wouldn't be able to resist for much longer. Her will was much stronger, when it came right down to it.
With a sigh, Xander grabbed a box of nails. "Excuse me," he asked a store employee, his voice heavy with weariness, "But which aisle contains hammers?"
**************
Willow was trying to contain herself, but failing miserably. She burst into helpless giggles yet again.
Xander glowered at her. "Whath?" he asked, trying to speak around a mouthful of nails.
"Xander, your form of carpentry is somewhat...abstract," she managed, dissolving into laughter yet again.
"The doors were mostly glass," he said with the air of a martyr, "But I can't nail glass back together, besides which, it is all shattered. Therefore the only way to close this 'freaking hole', as you described it, is by forming a sort of lattice with the remaining wood. Since you refuse to help, I don't think you're in any position to criticize. The wood is all broken and splintered, and the fact that it is even holding up to the ministrations of a hammer is a miracle. What I'm saying is, shut-up!" He turned back to the two pieces of jagged wood he was attempting to nail together. As he lifted the hammer to hit the head of the nail he gingerly held between his thumb and forefinger, the top slab of wood slipped, and he quickly reached out his hand to grab it.
"OW!" he yelled, letting the wood clatter to the ground. "Damn!"
Willow was at his side instantly, her face worried. "What? What's wrong?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing, nothing. Your little fix-up project just sliced my hand in half, that's all," he growled.
"Let me see," Willow coaxed, uncurling his fingers. She gasped when she saw that the palm of his hand had been sliced down the middle by a sharp end of the board. "Oh, Xander, does it hurt a lot?"
"What do you think?" he replied sullenly.
Looking closer, Willow could see that his fingertips were full of splinters. She suddenly felt guilty, for some reason more guilty because he hadn't said anything.
Then she burst into tears.
"Hey, it's okay, I'll live," Xander murmured, not understanding her sudden need to weep. She shook her head and turned away. "No, I'm dragging you into something that is my problem, something you refuse to see..."
"What problem?"
She sighed. "I feel responsible for Angel, Xander."
"What on earth are you talking about?"
She looked through the gaping holes in Xander's construction, staring at the mansion fireplace. "I'm the one who should have restored his soul sooner, who should have been able to save him. He shouldn't have gone to Hell. He shouldn't be hated and feared. You remember when Mrs. Post almost killed me, and he saved my life? That is who Angel is. That is what he does. Angel doesn't kill, he doesn't terrorize. He is good and he is decent and he saved my life, even though I couldn't save him. All that I can do is make you cover up his broken door, because I don't know how to tell him I'm sorry. I don't know how to be his friend, how to let him know I'm grateful.
I missed him this summer, did you know that? I missed Buffy more, but I missed him too, because I knew he was either dead or something worse, and I knew that I could have saved him. But I missed his quiet presence, I missed his respect and his loneliness and his politeness and his incredibly rare smile. I can't tell him any of it, so instead, I dragged you here tonight and waited for him to leave so that we could make this incredibly futile gesture. He'll come home and he'll see this...monstrosity of a repair job, and he'll think that maybe, somewhere in Sunnydale, there is someone who doesn't hate him.
I can't hate him. I've felt loneliness, and he lives in loneliness, and I wish there was something I could do about it. As it is, I've really only made you bleed. Well, I might as well make a sacrifice as well." Moving jerkily, Willow scraped her hand along a broken nail.
"Willow!" Xander choked out, grabbing her hand. "What does that accomplish?"
"Nothing," she whispered, and they both looked at the blood welling up in the wound. She had cut her hand much deeper than Xander, but he knew her tears were not of physical pain.
"I'm sure he knows, Willow," Xander said quietly. "He couldn't help but know. Everyone who meets you and really knows who you are figures it out. He can surely tell that you wish him well, even if you can't figure out any better way of saying it than slicing your hand on his defunct door."
Willow laughed softly, watching her blood drip on the brittle wood.
"Shall we go share an exciting evening of hydrogen peroxide, tweezers, and bandages?" Xander asked suavely. Smiling up into his laughing eyes, Willow felt better. They were standing close, but there was no danger of a continuation of the fluke, at least not that night. They were closer than they had been when they kissed, because for a moment, they were in complete agreement and understanding.
Linking arms, the two friends and sometimes construction workers climbed the garden steps.
******************
Angel entered the mansion slowly, tired and wondering why he was back from Hell in the first place. No one wanted him in Sunnydale anyway...
The aroma of fresh blood was like a slap in the face. Looking wildly around, his gaze fell upon the most haphazard construction of broken wood he had ever seen. Walking over to what had once been the garden entrance, he realized the smell of blood was getting stronger. Closing his eyes, he sniffed delicately.
His eyes snapped open in surprise. There was the blood of two people, and he recognized their scents. He smelled Xander's blood, and surprisingly, its scent was one of resignation.
There was much more of Willow's blood, however, and the smell was much more complex. He smelled apology and disappointment.
And hope.
Shaking his head in amazement, Angel rubbed the back of his neck. They had both come to his house, nailed boards over his doorway and covered it in their blood?
"Willow?" he said out loud, almost as if she would appear from the overgrown
jasmine plants. Still the garden remained silent, save for the breath of
breeze that wafted into him, carrying the scents of night blooming flowers
and freely given blood.
The End