Summary: Angel comforts Willow after her unexpected arrival at his office.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Joss and Fox and Mutant Enemy and WB and… You know, one day I will do it. I warn you, I will be the Bruce Macavaney of disclaimers…
Note: Set after Wild at Heart.
Note 1: Part One of the Series: Everything’s Changed
No Relevance Whatsoever: Go Sydney 2000! Shoutout to all the Aussie W/A shippers!
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Angel looked up from the messy array of paperwork that lay spread on his office table.
"Willow?" he murmured softly, concern driving his limbs from his seat as he sped to her slim frame.
She stood wearily at the opened door, eyes swollen and red. She sniffed hesitantly, brushing away an absent tear.
"I-I-I'm sorry, Angel, but I..." she croaked, her brittle words giving way to sobs.
He took her in his arms, slowly, a natural progression as he tried his best to comfort her. Her head rested snugly in his chest, her arms hanging limp by her sides as her body convulsed, crying.
His arm went around her back, pressing her against him reassuringly, hand entangled in her hair, stroking. Incoherant words and sounds slipped from his mouth, a primal instinct one has to soothe another. He massaged her back, hands working to relieve the tension he felt in her quivering body.
"Shush...shush", he murmured softly, holding her close.
Slowly, she responded, her body easing in his arms. Her sobs quietened, giving way to occassional hiccups. She pulled away from him slightly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.
He offered her his hankerchief; she nodded, taking it from him, eyes straying from his own thoughtful, worried gaze.
"I-I'm sorry...", she repeated, embarrassment clear in her voice.
"It's okay", he reassured her, eyes searching hers for some sort of explanation as to why she was in his Los Angeles office at 5 in the morning.
She pulled slightly; his arms let go, giving her the freedom. She looked down at the floor, biting her upper lip as she tried to collect herself.
Angel stood, waiting. A surge of impatience rushed through him; he put the feelings aside, more than a little worried at Willow's emotional outbreak. His eyes narrowed, thinking, the worst excuses coming to his mind...
"Willow, is something wrong? Buffy?" he began.
Something crossed between a sob and a laugh choked in her throat, confusing him even more. He took her hands gently; slowly, trying not to startle her.
"What's wrong", he urged.
Her head titled to meet his gaze, an apologetic look crossing her face.
"Nothing. It's okay. I-I-'m just overreacting" she paused, adding "Buffy's fine."
He couldn't control the relief that crossed his face, briefly.
"Are you sure?" he asked gently.
She nodded, a smile forced onto her lips as she tried to explain.
"I didn't mean to scare you. It's just...there was Oz, and then the werewolf, and her band- h-her band at the Bronze, and with Buffy and the guy. The guy, the time- she, she hasn't had time. It wasn't her fault; it's new and she had so much trouble, with the toenails, and the classes. Vampires a-and Faith, because she never... And Giles, he was, because it's all changed and Xander says so because he feels like..." her head had angled downwards as she had talked, but it rose to meet his as she breathed softly.
"It's all changed, Angel."
He nodded, more confused than he was before, desperately trying to understand her language.
"Look", he began gently, "Let's go downstairs. I'll make you a cup of coffee, whatever, and we can talk this over."
He looked into her eyes; the memory of her neck under his hands, Angelus' hands, springing painfully into his mind. He winced at the involuntary thought, but strengthened in his resolve that he must help the girl.
She nodded again, stangely quiet after the sudden outburst.
He took her hand lightly, leaving the paperwork forgotten on the table. Heading to the elevator, he pulled the manual doors open and shut as she walked docilely inside. Hitting the button, the only sound in the place was the whir of the machine taking them down.
He squeezed her hand reassuringly before the elevator landed with a jolt. Effortlessly, he pulled the door's back, leading her into his apartment.
"There's two floors", he informed her absently, "The top is for the office. This is my apartment."
She murmured her comprehension, allowing herself to be led to the couch. Sitting down, she looked up at him, realizing he had asked her how she took her coffee.
"Oh...I'll just have a glass of w-water, thanks".
She sighed, resting back onto the couch, pulling her legs up and curling them underneath her.
She smiled gratefully, genuinely, when he returned with her drink.
He sat down beside her, hands moving to clasp together in an restless gesture as her partched throat took a long, appreciative sip. The liquid was heaven to her dry, abused throat.
She finished, silent for a long moment before raising her eyes, finally, to meet his. She offered him a hesitant, self-conscious gaze as she gained control of her vocal cords.
"So… I guess you wanna know what I’m doing here?"
The End
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