Angel walked the dark London streets. Piccadilly was not his favorite
area of the city, too many lights, too many people. But the vampire
activity was usually in full swing there by midnight. It hadn't taken
long to piece together enough information to figure out the general
location of the lair.

Heavy footsteps fell behind him, and he turned. A young vampire reached
out for Angel, fangs bared. Angel grabbed hold of his arm and flung him
backwards. The attacker landed on the pavement, and Angel knelt over
him, curling a strong hand around the stunned vampire's throat and
squeezing hard.

"Lucky for me you came along," Angel growled. "I'm in the mood to snap
someone's head off their shoulders."

The young demon struggled in Angel's crushing grasp as fear filled his
eyes. Angel grinned cruelly and slid into game face. He pulled the
vampire up off the ground and held him in front of him.

"Spike ought to teach his bastards better," Angel snarled. "Where is my
old friend, anyway?"

The demon stared into Angel's amber eyes and quaked in mute terror.

"Never mind," Angel grinned. "I'll find him myself."

He pulled a stake from his pocket and plunged it into the would-be
assailant's heart.

"That's what happens when you assign a poodle to guard duty," Angel
shrugged as the ashes scattered about his feet.
***
Angel's dead heart nearly lurched as he rounded the mews and looked
across the small courtyard. Willow was sitting in a wrought iron chair.
The moonlight cast rich, bronze highlights on her hair. She seemed to
be lost in deep thought; she hadn't heard his cautious approach. He
watched for what could have been minutes or hours. One seemed to flow
into the other whenever he looked at her.

Willow stirred from her somber meditation and turned. She stood slowly
as a shadowy figure moved in the dim light that spilled out from the
grimy windows behind her.

"Angel," she whispered.

"Hello, Willow," he smiled.

She walked toward him, afraid he was merely a trick of the light or her
imagination. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her.

"You're really here," she said.

"I'm really here," he nodded.

"You shouldn't be," she tried to pull away, but his arms held her
firmly, refusing to let go.

"I had to. You know I had to," he told her.

"Did the slayer send you?" her eyes became hard.

"Willow, you don't need to ask that question, do you? This is the last
place Buffy would send me," he said.

She looked away from him, "I know. I'm sorry. It's just, after
everything that happened--"

"What you did was wrong, but I understand your motives," he told her.

"So, there's a bit of Angelus in you still," she grinned.

"Just as there's a piece of Willow still in you," he replied.

"Don't," she pulled out of his arms and turned away.

"You can't deny her," he said as he moved behind her and put his hands
on her shoulders. "You can pretend she isn't there, but she is, and we
both know it. I want to help you, Willow."

"You want to make me weak," she stated.

"Caring isn't a weakness. You care about Spike."

"That's different. He isn't human," she aruged.

"He was once. So were you. Look at me," he asked.

She turned to face him.

"Am I weak?" he asked.

"Sometimes. When you're with--them," she answered defiantly.

"Do you despise me for that?"

"No!" she cried. "I could never despise you!"

Then why do you despise it in yourself?" he questioned.

She shook her head, trying to untangle her thoughts, "I don't know.
It's just wrong for me, somehow. It hurts to care."

"It can," he agreed. "But not nearly as much as it hurts to hate all
the time. I know you love Spike. I know you care about me. Two lifeless
men. Is that enought to carry you through eternity? There has to be
more than that."

"What difference does it make? There's no one else now, anyway," she
told him.

"That isn't true. What about Giles and Oz? What about Xander and
Buffy?"

"You've got to be joking! They could never forgive me, even if I wanted
them to!" she said.

"They forgave me," he stated. "You think you've done anything worse
than Angelus ever did?"

"I killed the woman Xander loved," she reminded him.

"I killed the woman Giles loved," he countered.

She smiled sadly, "We're a pair, aren't we?"

"The point is, they forgave me. It wasn't easy, and it took time, but
they did. And what I did was worse. I was driven by pure, sadistic
hatred. You were provoked," he said.

"I don't know, Angel. I don't know if I want to change," she admitted.

"That's fear talking. You're afraid to give that small voice an
audience, but it'll never stop. It won't go away. It's you, Willow.
It's part of who you are. You can push it down, but you can't drive it
away," he said softly. "Let me help, please. We can go as slowly as you
want. When you feel afraid, we'll stop. Just try. Trust me, and try."
***
"Staked him?" the vampire asked.

Spike stopped along the Embankment as the question caught his interest.

"Like he'd been doing it all his unlife," the vampire's companion said.

"He was one of us?" the first asked in surprise.

"Big bastard, he was. Never seen him around here before. He's one of
the old ones, though."

"Maybe he's mates with that other bloke. The one who just arrived from
the States with that gorgeous redhead. He's a nasty piece of work, that
one is."

"Could be," the first one shrugged. "He was near their lair."

"Bloody hell," Spike hissed and took off in the opposite direction.

End.

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