It's About Time
by Carrie
 
 

~Chapter One~

It was the pain that eventually pulled Willow out of unconsciousness as all the nerve endings in her left hand screamed for recognition.

"Yikes!" Willow yelped, bolting upright to blow on her burning finger. When that did little to ease the caustic pain, she resorted to violently shaking her hand instead, but it was all in vain. Soon she was throwing back the covers and vaulting out of bed. It was as she was hopping up and down barefooted on the soft carpet, cursing softly and shaking her hand until her arm hurt from the strain, that she suddenly realized where she was.

She stopped jumping, the pain forgotten.

"Bloody hell..." she murmured under her breath, slowly spinning in place to finally take note of her surroundings. "It worked! I'm...home! In my own room...and--and I remember!"

Willow paused as a moment of panic set in. She took a deep breath and began to recite the little speech that she'd come up with back in Romania. "My name is Willow Rosenberg," she began aloud to herself. "I'm 17 years old, give or take a century, my parents are Ira and Sheila Rosenberg, and I've lived in Sunnydale, on the hellmouth, all my normal life...I've spent the last 100-plus years back in time with Spike..." Willow stopped herself there and let out a sigh of relief. She did remember.

Willow moved to flip on the light so she could take a better look at her old, familiar room. Narrowing her watering eyes at the sudden brightness, Willow took it all in. From what she could tell, her bedroom was pretty much as she remembered it. Stuffed animals were piled neatly next to her white wicker bed, familiar posters and pictures adorned the walls along side her Sunnydale High banners, fish tank, books, and of course her faithful computer, which sat waiting for her upon her desk. Willow was definitely home.

Just as she was beginning to form several sarcastic comments regarding Spike's prediction that they wouldn't remember their little journey back in time, Willow happened to notice what she was wearing--her old pajamas, the midnight blue ones with the bright gold stars and moons. They certainly weren't the Rom clothes that she'd been wearing when they'd cast the spell, nor did they even remotely resemble the Victorian nightgown that she'd smuggled back. Doubt began to creep its way across her consciousness, drawing questions in its wake. The redhead soon realized that not only did she have no idea how she'd gotten into her pajamas, but she couldn't even recall getting back to her room or, for that matter, anything after they'd completed the spell in Romania.

Growing ill at ease, Willow felt a niggling sensation in the back of her mind, telling her that something else was wrong. Not only was something missing, but she just didn't feel quite right. The redhead took a few moments to compose herself, picturing her calming place and taking a few deep breaths, until she had little problem divining what was wrong. The silver ring of Angelus's that she had worn for more than a century was missing from her finger. Her left hand felt incredibly light but extremely naked without it. Glancing between her bare hand and her childish fire-resistant pajamas, Willow flopped back down on her bed to ponder these new implications.

Just as she was beginning to think that 'no ring plus no gypsy clothes equaled a trip to the funny farm', Willow became aware once again of the pain in her left hand. Inspecting her ring finger more closely, she was relieved to see the very faint band of swollen pink flesh surrounding the digit, precisely where the ring would have been. She brought the area to her mouth, alternately blowing and sucking on the injury. That's when she realized something else strange. The area around her finger wasn't hot to the touch, as it had been when Spike had originally done the spell that pulled them back through time. In fact, it was just the opposite. Her finger was freezing cold.

But at that moment, Willow could care less if would hurt every day for the rest of her life, because the pain meant that she hadn't imagined everything after all. On a hunch, Willow threw open the door to her closet and after rifling through clothes that she hadn't worn in decades, Willow found them. The Rom skirt and blouse and her favorite Victorian nightgown were hanging in the very back of her closet, just behind her winter jacket.

Before Willow knew it, a tear of relief slid down her cheek. "It *is* real, which means once again, Willow Rosenberg, you have managed to thwart insanity!" she informed herself with a smug nod of her head.

Wiping away the tear, Willow had an urgent need to see her parents again. She ran down the hall to her parent's room, only to find their bed empty. That's when she remembered that Sheila and Ira had been out of town all those years ago when Spike had kidnapped her. If Spike was right, then she and the blonde vamp had returned to the exact same time and place that they'd left. So it made sense that her parents were still gone. In fact, she took their absence as a sign that perhaps nothing had really changed as a result of her and Spike's interference.

Despite this knowledge, she sighed at having to wait yet another few days to see her parents, and trudged back to her room.
Willow's disappointment abated a bit as she realized that soon she'd be with all of her old friends again. She couldn't wait to see Xander and Oz, and if everything had worked they way she hoped, Buffy would also be in Sunnydale...and Angel..."

Before Willow's mind could completely wrap around the idea of seeing Angel and Buffy again, let alone together, something on the dresser caught her eye, distracting the redhead. Drawing closer, Willow quickly realized what it was. It was the ring, Angelus's silver band, sitting on top of her dresser as if it had been placed there. Ecstatic--not only for finding the ring but because it was another confirmation that the whole trip back in time hadn't been a figment of her overactive imagination--Willow happily picked the ring up and slid it experimentally back onto her injured finger.

The band was too big, just as it had been that first time she'd put it on--before the spell had magically shrunk it and melded it to her dainty finger. Not wanting to lose the ring, Willow set it back on top of the dresser. She tried to put the ring out of her thoughts, making herself study her room for changes instead, but her eyes kept darting back to it. Berating herself for being a 'ring junkie,' Willow soon gave in and snatched up the small circlet of silver.

Willow quickly padded down the hall to the bathroom and rifled around in the medicine cabinet until she found the Band-Aids. As she fumbled for the tiny red string to unwrap one, Willow couldn't help thinking of all the times the modern bandages would have come in handy during her trip. On Spike alone she could have gone through a few cases of the handy first-aid item. She placed one around her sore finger, and then after choosing another tiny bandage, she wrapped it around the band of the silver ring itself. When she slipped the tiny hoop back on, Willow felt a sense of relief, not only that it felt snug and secure but because it was back where it belonged. After wearing the silver band for more than 100 years, it was a part of her now. Willow didn't want to imagine ever having to give the ring up.

Pushing that thought to the back of her mind, Willow made quick work of getting herself cleaned up. She indulged in an extended brushing of her teeth, having missed modern tubed toothpaste more than she'd ever thought possible. However, the long shower that she'd been dreaming of for so long was going to have to wait. Willow needed to make sure Spike was okay and hopefully get some of her other questions answered at the same time.

Back in her room, Willow surveyed the contents of her closet and dresser drawers. Like a child on Christmas morning, she was practically giddy as she gazed at all of her 'new' and comfortable wardrobe choices.

"Jeans! I can wear jeans! And t-shirts...and sweaters...and...." Willow trailed off as her eyes raked across the bottom of her closet, noting her choice of shoes. The redhead fell to her knees, barely suppressing the urge to kiss her old footwear.

"Oh, thank goodness we didn't accidentally kill the inventor of sneakers...in a roundabout sort of way!" she giggled.

After a short trip down memory lane ala her high school wardrobe, Willow decided on a pair of familiar baggy overalls, a striped T-shirt, and red sneakers. Stripping out of her pajamas, Willow sighed with pleasure as she slipped on a pair of soft, cotton panties and a simple bra. Compared to the multiple layers of clothing she'd had to wear before, Willow was in apparel heaven. Quickly putting on the rest of the old Willow ensemble, she checked herself in the mirror. Her enthusiastic smile waned a bit.

"How come the comfortable clothes make me look like such a...nerd?" she asked her reflection. "Oh well," she added with a shrug, before grabbing a hairbrush to smooth out her long hair. "I'm sure I can find something in between Victoriana and this!"

Resigned to a large shopping trip in her near future, Willow finally headed out the door. In the back of her over-active mind, Willow knew there were other things she should be doing...questions she should be asking...but at the moment only one thing mattered. She had to make sure Spike was okay first. Then, and only then, could she look forward to seeing all of her old friends again.

***

Willow made it through two different cemeteries and was halfway through one of Sunnydale's gloomier parks before she realized that she was in her 'stalker mode'. It was instinct now. Neither her final months with the Rom nor the ten years that she'd traveled with Spike had dampened her wariness. Maybe she didn't have the Slayer's innate ability to sense vampires when they were near, but the redhead had a century's worth of hard-earned experience to fall back on. After all, Willow had spent the better part of a century avoiding vampires, stalking them, or actually living with one, and as a result she felt like she knew as much about vampires as any human could, without actually becoming one, that is.

As Willow continued on toward the mansion, a rustling in the bushes made the redhead quickly take cover behind a large tree. She peeked around the trunk just in time to see a vampire--a fledgling, she assumed, since he was still in 'game face' and making more noise than a vampire should--burst out from the bushes near where she'd been walking only a moment before. The vampire rushed by, seemingly in a hurry. That happened to be fine with Willow, especially since she wasn't too happy about her haphazard hiding place, nor did she have time to fend off a hungry vampire at that moment. When the redhead could no longer hear the vampire's footsteps running away in the opposite direction, Willow resumed her cautious trek to the mansion. She hadn't taken more than three steps before she heard another noise. This time it sounded like a scuffle.

Willow dropped to the ground before proceeding to crawl toward the noise. With a practiced hand, Willow parted the bushes as quietly as possible, but she couldn't contain the slight yelp of surprise that slipped from her lips. From her awkward angle, Willow couldn't see his face. She didn't need to. There was no mistaking him, even from the back--the leather pants, wine-colored, velvety shirt. The fact that he was holding a bleeding teen-aged girl in his grasp only cemented it. Angelus.

<Oh god...something went wrong with the curse!> Willow silently concluded. And with that realization, Willow broke her own rules of stalking. She squeaked and began scrambling backward through the underbrush noisily enough to wake the dead. Even in her panic, she couldn't keep from glancing back up...just in time to see the dark vampire turn and look her way.

Willow finally managed to get to her feet, running as fast as she could toward the mansion. After only a few strides, she decided that the mansion was probably the last place she wanted to be now that she was aware that Angelus was back. As she paused just long enough to change directions, strong hands grabbed her by the forearms.

"And where do you think you're going?" the dark vampire drawled with a smile.

"No..." she gasped, shaking her head in disbelief. After all she and Spike had been through, this could not be happening.

When he smiled at her behavior, it was all too familiar to Willow. Her heart leapt into her throat, stealing her words.

"I've been waiting here forever for you," he reminded her, his voice as deep and dark as she remembered it to be. "You think you can just sneak by me?"

Willow shoved him with all of her strength, twisting out of his grip at the same time and somehow managing to catch him by surprise. She ran as fast as she could, not thinking, not remembering all that she had learned, but in a desperate gait.

Soon she could hear him behind her, closing in. Willow picked up the pace, darting between the trees and the park benches, fitting though spaces that she knew his larger frame wouldn't...anything to put some distance between them. Sparing a glance behind to see if her pursuer was gaining, Willow ran squarely into another body.

She fell back, landing upon her backside on the damp earth. Startled, Willow looked up to find Xander standing above her, rubbing his shoulder and grimacing.

"Whoa there, Wills. What's with all the rushing and slamming into people?"

Willow's jaw dropped open. Although she'd known that she would see her childhood friend eventually, it was still a surprise after all this time.

"Xander!" Willow leapt to her feet, ignoring the hand that he held out to help her. "Xander...it's you! You're here! You're...you!" Willow said in a rush.
The surprised redhead pulled him into a crushing hug, momentarily forgetting the vampire that was stalking her.

Xander laughed. "Yeah, well, I was going to come as Cordelia, but none of her sweaters matched my pants."

"Cordelia?" Willow asked the dark-haired boy, just as the beautiful brunette walked up.

"That is *so* not funny, Xander," Cordelia informed them both. "If you want to explore your feminine side, you'll just have to find someone else's cashmere tops to stretch out."

"Talk about your scary mental images," joked the blonde Slayer as she joined the group.

Willow slid out of Xander's embrace at the sound of her friend's voice. "Buffy?"

"The one and only."

Willow threw herself into her friend's arms, tears of joy spilling down the redhead's cheeks. "It's been so long. Sometimes I thought I'd never see you again!"

Buffy awkwardly returned her friend's hug and traded a puzzled look with Xander, who just shrugged in return.

"Why, Wills? You planning on playing hooky again tomorrow? Giles said you have a fever, but you don't look that sick to me." The blonde grinned knowingly. "Willow...don't tell me you finally sacrificed your perfect attendance record in order to let your bad side out to play?" Buffy teased good-naturedly as her friend pulled away.

"Bad side?" Willow blinked at her friend, not understanding what she was talking about. Luckily it triggered her awareness of the unsafe situation that they were all in. "Oh bloody hell...I was so happy to see you that I forgot! We've got to go and go now. He's right behind me!"

Buffy had a stake in her hand in an instant, ready to do business. "What's the sitch? Vamp? Demon?"

"Angelus," Willow said in a low whisper.

The gang exchanged questioning glances over Willow's head.

"Angelus?" Buffy repeated. She then shoved the stake into Willow's hand. "You're on your own. You two are not going to pull me into your sick little games."

Willow was horrified at the blonde's attitude but grasped the stake with a practiced hand. Willow took a few paces toward the sound of the quickly approaching footsteps before turning around to face her friends. Then the redhead took a deep breath and waited. Seconds later, a cool hand clutched her shoulder. Willow grabbed hold of his arm and, once again using the vampire's weight to her own advantage, flipped him over her shoulder. The instant the Irish vampire landed on the ground at her feet, she was in motion. Without looking at his face, Willow straddled his waist, holding the stake high over her head.

The stake was halfway to the startled vampire's chest, when its forward momentum was halted by a firm grip on Willow's wrist.

"What are you doing, Willow?" Buffy huffed, wrenching it from her friend's hand. "I know you two like to play your little cat and mouse games, but don't you think you were getting a little carried away? You might have actually hurt Angel!"

"No!" Willow exclaimed adamantly, her eyes darting from the Slayer to the vampire beneath her. "You don't understand! This is..."

Her voice trailed off as she finally allowed her eyes to meet his. The soft sable eyes regarding her held no malice, no glint of mocking superiority or trickery, just a touch of mirth.

"...Angel?" Willow finished.

"Looks like my self-defense lessons are finally paying off. You almost had me that time, Willow. For a second there I thought you were really going to stake me."

Willow shook her head. "B-but the pants...the shirt..."

"They're too much, aren't they?" Angel asked, furrowing his brow. "I knew they were too much," he added under his breath. "That's the *last* time I go shopping on an empty stomach. Those salesgirls can talk me into almost anything when I'm hungry..." he joked, receiving chuckles from the others for his efforts. All except for Willow.

"You're not...you know...evil?" she squeaked, much to her own embarrassment.

Angel tilted his head a bit, his lips twitching in barely contained amusement. "Suppose that depends on your definition of the word evil."

"Oh, he's evil alright," Xander cut in. "You should see how red-pen happy he went all over my history paper on the Irish Famine. All I asked was for a little help from the guy--you know, since he'd *been* there--and now he's making me write the whole thing all over again before I turn it in on Monday." The dark-haired boy shook his head. "And you ask me if he's evil," he scoffed.

"You want to talk evil?" Buffy added. "How about Giles making us reorganize all his Watcher books at the library last week. Suddenly the Dewey Decimal System isn't good enough? That's down-right sinister!"

"And the salesgirl who talked Angel into wearing that belt must have been working some seriously dark mojo," said Cordy, adding her two cents to the light-hearted banter.

Everyone looked at the pretty, dark-haired girl.

"What?" Cordy questioned her friends with a tinge of impatience. "Can't I play too?"

Angel laughed, jostling the redhead on top of him. Realizing she was still straddling the vampire, Willow struggled to her feet and backed away. She glanced around at her friends, who were regarding her with concern but didn't seem at all worried about the vampire that was now getting to his feet.

Brushing himself off, the brown-eyed vampire took a step closer. Willow backed up a step. Cocking his head to the side, Angel took another step closer, and Willow once again took an equal step away. Willow's thoughts flashed back to their deadly dance in the woods outside the Rom camp, which felt like only yesterday to the girl.

"Cute dance, Fred and Ginger," chirped Xander. "You kids really oughta take that show on the road."

"I don't dance," the vampire said quite seriously, even as a small smile crept onto his face at their little two-step.

"An--Angelus?" Willow whispered to herself, but from the change in his expression, she knew that the vampire had heard her.

The amusement was gone, his eyes growing wider. "Rose?" he asked almost sheepishly.

Cordelia and Buffy, who'd been watching the strange display, mouthed the word 'Rose' to each other questioningly.

Willow's hands flew to cover her gaping mouth. It was Angel. The spell had worked, and Angel had never relost his soul! Relief flooded through her as she realized the vampire's bad wardrobe choices had just been a fluke.

"Angel...it worked?"

"Yes, it worked," came a feminine voice from behind her. Willow turned to find a beautiful dark-haired woman regarding her with no small measure of relief, Giles at her side.

Willow's new world began to spin out of control. When combined with all of the excitement of the last few days with the Rom, this was too much. Strong hands tried to steady the redhead just as her vision began to grow dark.

"Ms. Calendar..." Willow managed to mumble before unconsciousness stole her voice. For the first time in her unnaturally long life, Willow fainted from something other than blood loss.
 

~Chapter Two~

Angel's eyes never strayed from Willow's sleeping face as he silently paced in front of the sofa where she was lying.  He had thought that this day would never arrive and had sometimes hoped that it never would.  The girl lying before him wasn't simply Willow anymore--the girl he'd befriended upon his arrival in Sunnydale two years earlier.  The woman lying before him was Rose--the woman that had changed the course of his life for eternity.

Finding no solace in his nearly frantic movements, Angel finally came to a standstill at the head of the couch.  With deliberate slowness, Angel lowered himself to his knees, clasping his hands next to Willow's face.  Still watching closely for any sign that she was coming around, Angel rested his chin on his hands.  Although the vampire took great comfort in being able to feel her warm, even breath on his own cool cheek, after waiting for more than a century to be face-to-face with Rose again, he was impatient for the redhead to wake up.  Not only did he have an endless stream of questions flowing through his mind, including the usual How's and Why's, but he also wanted--no *needed*--to know the whole the truth behind the spell that had brought her to the 18th century in the first place, not to mention Spike and the curse.  What Angel needed to know the most, however, was where the truth stopped and the lies began.

Oh yeah, he had a lot of questions, but he also had much that he needed to say to her as well.

But for now, the vampire with a soul had to be content simply with the knowledge that everything had actually happened after all.  Rose hadn't been a figment of his guilt-ridden imagination nor was Willow's resemblance to Rose simply a fluke of nature or an ironic punishment by the powers that be.  Willow and Rose were one in the same.

As he waited, Angel studied her, looking for any evidence that he might be wrong by visually tracing every familiar line and curve of her delicate features.  As hard as he tried, he couldn't find any notable differences between this Willow and the Willow that he'd watched try to hack into the Sunnydale Police Department's record system a few days earlier.  Everything was the same...the hair, the skin, even the clothes.  There was only one difference he could detect.  This Willow--the one that he'd known as Rose--wore the nearly invisible scars of his bite marks, and Spike's, on her throat.  Tempted as he was to brush her long hair aside to look for any other scars, Angel somehow managed to keep his restless hands to himself.

As Angel waited, he had a flashback to an all-too-familiar scene.  He saw himself kneeling by the unconscious Rose as she lay on his bed more than a century ago.  That night he'd also been impatient for her to wake up so she could answer a myriad of questions, centering around how she appeared unchanged more than 50 years after he'd been made a vampire.  Even now, Angel had little trouble recalling the emotions he'd experienced at the sight of her all those years ago.  The anger, excitement, and confusion had surged together, causing him to uncharacteristically lose his self-control, culminating in a savage bite.

The memories drove Angel to his feet and backing away from the sleeping redhead.  "Guess this just goes to prove that history does repeat itself," the vampire mumbled, running a shaky hand through his already-disheveled hair.

Angry that he hadn't been better prepared for this day--a day for which he'd been preparing for decades--he turned to focus his ire on the only other person in the room.

"You should have told me," Angel said hotly.

Jenny Calendar stuck her head around a short row of bookcases that served to divide one small section of the large room.  "I couldn't, Angel.  I couldn't do anything that might jeopardize the spell being completed."

He shot the dark-haired teacher a withering look.  "And how could confirming that Willow and Rose were the same person jeopardize the spell?  How could telling me that the spell was to end today put it in jeopardy?"

"It's more complicated than that, Angel."

Angel slowly shook his head as he advanced on the table where she was sitting, studying The Writings.  "All this time, Jenny.  All this time you've known that on this day the Willow that had gone back in time would return, and you said nothing to me. You never even told me you knew about it until tonight!  But you knew it from the moment you came to Sunnydale, didn't you?"

Jenny carefully closed the book and turned to face the angry vampire.  "Yes, I did.  That's why I'm here, Angel.  My people sent me to insure that the spell was completed and to be the keeper of The Writings."

Glancing back at the unconscious redhead, Angel dismissed Jenny's excuses with a wave of his hand.  He was in no mood to listen to some Rom rhetoric, yet the teacher continued anyway.

"I was not allowed to discuss it, Angel.  Especially not with you."

At her words, Angel's head came sharply around.  He glared at the woman whom he felt had betrayed him.  Not only hadn't she told him about what was going on with Willow, she'd never let on that she was Rom either.  She hadn't admitted to being a Gypsy until he'd confronted her about it on the way back from the park earlier that night.  What else didn't he know?

Angel closed his eyes momentarily, swallowing his anger and mistrust for the time being.  It wasn't going to get him the answers he craved.  When he felt back in control and more himself again, he opened his eyes and took the seat across from Jenny.  However, he couldn't bring himself to look at her as he spoke.

"You must have known how confused I was when I came to Sunnydale to help the Slayer only to find Rose...or a girl that looked like her," he began in a carefully measured voice.  "But she didn't remember me.  I told myself that Willow was my Rose and that I'd just have to be patient, that suddenly one day she'd remember.  So I waited, always hoping and trying to jar her memory simply with my presence, but there was never even a flicker of recognition in her eyes.  Do you have *any* idea how hard that was?"  He didn't expect the woman to answer nor did he give her a chance to.  "After two years, I'd started to give up.  I told myself that it had never happened."  He finally looked Jenny in the face.  "I had even begun to hope that none of it had happened so that Willow might never remember the horrible things I'd done..."  Angel sighed, the forced expulsion of breath only slightly reducing his simmering anger.  "The least you could have done was warn me that tonight the spell was to be complete, but I guess that was breaking some Gypsy code of secrecy, wasn't it?"

Jenny flinched, having never been on the receiving end of Angel's anger before, let alone ever seeing this much bitterness in him at all; it left her feeling chilled to the bone.  She regretted never being able to tell him the truth, not only about Willow and the spell, but also about her own reasons for coming to Sunnydale.  The teacher was surprised, to say the least, when he'd figured out that she was Rom earlier that night simply from her comment to Willow in the park.  Yet, there was so much more he didn't know, and not only about her, but about Willow as well.

"Angel, try to understand," Jenny said in soothing tones.  "The Writings only said that today was the day that the spell would be completed and she'd arrive back in her own time.  I had no way of knowing what state of mind she'd be in.  Even The Writings were unclear as to whether she would remember everything that had happened to her in the past.  Remember, she's been through a lot, and--"

"Don't you think I know that?" Angel growled.  "I'm the one who put her through hell for a century, as you very well know."

"I don't think you can take all the blame for that, Angel.  Don't forget about Spike."

Jenny didn't think it would have been possible for the vampire's face to become any darker and tighter, but it did at the mention of his childe's name.

Angel's gaze fell to his clasped hands, settling on the silver ring he still wore.  He twisted it a few times before speaking.  "He's back, too."  It was more a statement than a question.

"Yes."

When he was again in control of his baser emotions, Angel looked up and met the Gypsy's dark eyes.  "Tell me how it happened...how this Willow came back.  Tell me everything you saw, Jenny."

Jenny glanced back down at the old book before pushing back from the table.  Her hands still gripping its smooth wooden edge, she took a deep breath as she considered just how to put the night's strange events into words.

"The Writings said that they'd arrive back tonight, sometime after midnight, at the mansion on Crawford Street.  Willow, Giles, and I went--"

"Wait," Angel interrupted, sitting up straighter.  "You took Willow to the mansion?  And Giles knew about this too?"

She climbed wearily to her feet, moving closer to the couch where the girl was sleeping.  "No," Jenny said, emphatically shaking her head.  "He knew nothing until last night.  But I needed his help, so I told him just enough to do what we had to do.  Trust me, Rupert isn't happy with me either.  I'll be answering a million questions in the morning..."

"What about Willow...*our* Willow?"  Angel groaned in frustration.  "What about the Willow we've known for the past two years?"

Jenny rubbed her throbbing temples as she turned to look at the girl sleeping on the couch.  How was she to explain something that she didn't understand herself?

"Willow knew nothing about the spell until yesterday.  Yesterday I told her as much as I dared to because I thought it would be better if she came to the mansion with me.  As you can imagine, Willow was shocked, to say the least.  But yet she seemed to understand...somehow."

Angel's eyes closed as he leaned his head back.  Headaches were a rarity for the souled vampire but he could feel a doozy of one kicking in.

Jenny continued.  "The three of us went to the mansion around midnight, which was uncharacteristically deserted, I might add.  You would have been very proud of Willow.  She was very brave."

Angel made no comment.  No one had to tell him how brave Willow could be, but he was upset for not being given the opportunity to be there to help the 17-year-girl through what must have been a terrifying ordeal.

"We stood there in the main room of the mansion, waiting for something to happen, although none of us were quite sure what.  All of the sudden the air started to crackle.  You could feel it on your skin.  Then there was this...*wave* of energy that flowed outward from one spot in the room.  For a moment it was as if everything moved in slow motion, almost liquid like.  Then there was a spectacular flash and..."  Jenny trailed off, unable to put into words exactly what had happened.  "One moment Willow was standing next to me, holding my hand, and the next moment she and Spike were lying together on the floor in the same spot where the wave phenomenon had started.  But she was wearing traditional Rom clothes and Spike was in period clothing as well.  I can't explain exactly what happened because I don't understand it myself.  Remember, as it is, this goes against science.  I can't explain it any better."

At the completion of her story, Jenny anxiously waited for Angel to say something--anything.  But he didn't.  The vampire remained not only silent but motionless as well, simply staring at one spot on the table.  She was actually relieved when he suddenly stood up, yet his line of vision remained firmly glued to the table where his fingernails began tapping on the polished wood in no particular rhythm.

"Together?" he finally asked, his eyes darting to meet Jenny's for only a split second before they settled back on the table.

"Um, Spike and Willow were holding hands, if that's what you mean.  But from what I can tell from The Writings, it was necessary for them to be touching for the spell to work," she quickly added.

Angel simply grunted, unwilling to share his true thoughts on the subject of Willow and Spike at the moment.  "Then what happened?" he asked, finally ending his impromptu percussion performance by jamming his hands in his pockets.

"Rupert and I got her out of there.  We had no idea if Drusilla was around waiting for Spike, and we really thought that Willow wasn't going to remember what had happened, as The Writings suggested.  We didn't want Willow to be shocked or confused so we rushed her home where I got her out of her Rom clothes and tucked her into bed.  As far as I knew, she'd wake up in the morning the same old Willow that we've both known for two years, but perhaps talking about the whole experience as if it were an odd dream."

Cautiously, Angel left the table and went to stand by Jenny.  Together, they peered over the back of the sofa at the motionless girl.  She looked so serene and at peace now, but Angel's stomach wrenched at the thought of the same sweet face being twisted in fear only hours earlier.

<I should have been there.>

The dark vampire's fingers dug into the brown leather sofa, leaving tiny crescent moon indentations behind as he imagined what she'd gone through.  "You should have told me, Jenny.  Willow must have been terrified.  I could have helped her understand.  I could have told her what--"

"Told her what, Angel?"  Jenny demanded curtly.  "Told her all about things that happened to Rose, yet not to her, and all about memories she'd never have?"

"But she does remember, Jenny!  You heard what she said to me in the park tonight.  She thought I was Angelus without a soul.  She remembered!"

"You don't know how much she remembers.  Who knows, when she wakes up, she might not remember anything.  After all, The Writings were very clear.  She wasn't supposed to recall anything at all."

Angel clenched his jaw, trying unsuccessfully to swallow his words.  "You were wrong and so were The Writings.  I'm starting to think that they weren't worth the paper they were written on."

Jenny took a deep breath to calm herself.  There was still so much they didn't know, and she was as anxious for Willow to wake up as Angel was.

She put her hand on the vampire's arm, hoping to console him.  "Prophecies are never infallible, no matter where they come from, Angel."

"I don't give a damn!" Angel hissed, wrenching his arm away from the Gypsy.  "You should have at least told me once you knew that *she* was back.  Did you see the look on her face in the cemetery tonight?  I thought she was just becoming a good actress, but she was really afraid of me.  Damn it, Jenny!  Do you have any idea the things I'd promised to do to her--to Rose--before I was cursed?"

Jenny didn't know but she could imagine from what she'd heard about Angelus, the Scourge of Europe.  "It will be okay, Angel.  Everything will work out the way it should."

"Did your precious Writings tell you that?"  Angel retorted acridly.

Jenny sighed.  "Think I'll go make a pot of tea.  Looks like you could use it, Angel."

"I don't want tea," he growled.

"Well, you better do something to calm down," Jenny informed the vampire in the most motherly tone she could manage.  "If Willow wakes up and does remember everything, and then she sees you this upset, you might have a little trouble convincing her that you're still cursed."

Angel ran a tired hand down his face, as if hoping to wipe away some of the bitterness he was feeling.  He forced himself to take a few deep breaths before speaking.

"What did you tell the others?" Angel asked in a calmer voice.

"I simply told Buffy and the other kids that Willow'd been ill.  I chalked it up to fever-induced hallucinations.  They were worried about her but I think they bought that.  Rupert, on the other hand, expects a full explanation tomorrow."  Her face fell.  "I don't know if he's going to forgive me for keeping this from him all this time."

"He really knew nothing about the spell?"

Jenny shook her head.  "He only knows what I told him tonight.  That something important was happening, according to The Writings, and it concerned Willow.  Of course, he wasn't very happy that I wouldn't explain further, but he trusted me.  And then when our Willow disappeared, only to be replaced with this one along with Spike, you can imagine he was a little curious.  He is The Watcher, after all.  He thinks nothing supernatural should take place in Sunnydale without his stamp of approval."

"But why is she still unconscious?" Angel asked, resuming his expectant father-like pacing.

Jenny shrugged.  "She's been through a lot.  I'm surprised she woke up so soon in the first place.  I half-expected her to sleep for a few days."

"You know, considering what you are, you don't have many answers, do you?" There was still a coldness to his voice, but the anger had dissipated.

With a shake of her head, Jenny headed for the hallway at the back of the room.

"Jenny..." Angel called after her in a softer tone.  "I--I'm...it's the waiting.  It's getting to me."

"Penance is never easy, Angel," she said without turning around.  "You should know that by now."

Angel looked around the room before responding.  "Yeah, you'd think I would," Angel chuckled wryly.

Jenny stopped in the doorway and looked back at the vampire.  "And you may want to consider changing out of those clothes before she wakes up, Angel.  They seemed to bother her quite a bit."

Angel glanced down at his leather pants then nodded in agreement.

"Besides..." Jenny added over her shoulder as the vampire began to follow her down the hallway.  "That belt is really, really hideous."
 

~Chapter Three~

When she could no longer hear their voices or their footsteps, Willow finally opened her eyes.

She'd come to wakefulness slowly, for a change.  The voices had come to her first, interrupting the quiet dreamless sleep that blanketed her.  Before she could manage to open her eyes, the sound of Angel's raised voice permeated the drowsy fog, and she automatically began to regulate her breathing.  She wasn't really sure of where or even when she was, but she was sure that the conversation going on around her was one she wanted to hear.  Keeping her eyes closed and her breathing and pulse even, Willow listened with sickly fascination to Jenny and Angel's discussion.  While some of it was confusing to the redhead, the conversation was a wealth of information.  Angel--if that's who he really was, she reminded herself--had apparently never revealed their shared past to anyone.  Even to the 'other Willow'.  And the redhead was barely able to keep from groaning aloud in confusion at the thought of the Willow that had taken her place in this new timeline.

Time travel was certainly more perplexing than she'd ever imagined, and as she finally sat up and took a look at her surroundings, the confusion magnified.

The room she found herself in wasn't at all familiar to her.  At first she thought it was a library and that perhaps Sunnydale High had finally invested some money back into the school in an area other than sports.  After all, the only thing she could see from where she sat was a large, full book case, a comfortable looking, leather winged-back chair, and a couple of library-like tables, surrounded by library-like chairs.

Yep, it was definitely a library, she'd decided.  At least until she stood up and had a look around.  That's when her mouth fell open.  If it actually were a library, it would have to be a private one.

The room was even larger than she'd thought, several times larger than the high school's library, and the high, sloped wood and beam ceilings did nothing to reduce the openness of the room.  Huge sturdy bookcases dotted the worn wooden floor, interspersed with groupings of more comfortable chairs, sofas and the occasional table.  Lamps rested upon each table, no two alike.  In one far corner, a good-sized TV and stereo occupied some space, surrounded yet again by plenty of seating choices.  Against a different wall, several computers, complete with scanners and printers, awaited instructions.

To Willow it was heaven, or at least it would have been about 140 years earlier.  But at this particular moment, she found it terrifying.

She took a few shaky steps away from the sofa to peer around the book case that was partially blocking her view of the other side of the room, and that's when she realized where she was, or at least the significance of the building itself.  A streetlight outside illuminated one of the many tall windows that wrapped around both long sides of the building, bringing the colored glass to life.

They were stained-glass windows.  Her eyes darted to what she assumed was the front of the building, and there it was.  A small raised area, a dais, which now hosted another seating arrangement.  At the other end of the room, large double doors sat open, revealing the lobby-like narthex and another pair of closed doors which, she assumed, led to the outside.

There was no doubt about it now.  She was in a church...or at least it had been a church in its former life.  Now it more resembled a place of learning than a place of worship, albeit a comfortable place of learning.  Chairs and sofas replaced the pews, reference books were substituted for the hymnals, and tables took the place of altars.

With a trembling hand, Willow silently slid a book off of the nearest shelf and glanced at its title--'Dictionary of Gods and Goddesses, Devils and Demons,' by M. Jurker.  She frowned, remembering the book from Giles' collection at the school library and wondered why it was in this place.  She reshelved that one before grabbing another, more expensive looking volume--'Aetia, Iambi, Hecale and other Fragments,' by Callimachus.  Translated by C.A. Trypanis.  Her frown deepened with the unfamiliar title.

Willow was still perusing the odd collection of books when she actually 'felt' Angel enter the room.  She turned around in time to see him ambling in her general direction.  Much to her relief, the vampire was now wearing dark pants--non-leather--and buttoning an equally dark shirt.  <He looks like Angel,> Willow thought to herself.  Angel was so focused on the sofa that she'd just been lying on that he didn't notice her standing by the bookshelf across from it.  Willow thought she detected a hint of panic in his eyes when he saw the empty couch, but an instant later, he noticed her.  When their eyes met, he stopped where he was, hands frozen, his shirt still only half-buttoned.  They stared at each other, neither quite sure what to say.

"You're awake?" Angel finally said.  He was aware that he was stating the obvious, but someone had to talk first, no matter how ludicrous the words.

Willow guiltily looked down at the book in her hands and quickly returned it to its rightful place.  "Um, I think I'll just have to trust you on that or pinch myself a few hundred times."

There was a long pause again and Willow found herself doing a few deep-breathing exercises just to keep from fidgeting like a child in church.  At the same time, she tried her best to look the vampire in the eye.  From the look on Willow's face, Angel had no doubt that she remembered everything that had happened during her trip back in time.

Angel shoved his hands in his pockets and tried again.  "You must have a lot of questions."

Willow nodded sheepishly.  "You probably have a few yourself."

With a soft grunt, Angel forced himself to move forward a few steps, even though his feet felt like lead.  He was relieved when Willow didn't back away from him this time, but the way her eyes widened, he knew her first thoughts were to flee.  He didn't blame her.

"One or two...hundred," he admitted with a slight smile, hoping to allay her fears somewhat.  "But ladies first."

Willow was concentrating so hard on not looking away from Angel, trying to ignore the persistent voice within her that insisted that running away would be a good thing, that it took her a moment to realize what the vampire had actually said.

"Oh!  Um, well, you and Ms. Calendar answered some of them already."

"You were awake?  You heard what we were saying?"

Willow could only nod again, but Angel noted that she at least had the courtesy to look a little guilty for eavesdropping on them.

"Some of it, anyway," she admitted.  "When I woke up you were kinda yelling at Ms. Calendar for not telling you what was going on...I heard about how I got here...and Ms. Calendar's opinion of your fashion sense."

"I kind of liked the belt, myself.  I thought it made me look..."  Angel's words trailed off as he stopped his forced lightness, much to both their relief.  He glanced at his shoes for a moment, wondering where his ability to make conversation had disappeared to, before looking the redhead in the eye once again.  "We should talk."

"And sit," she agreed.  "Sitting is good when you talk."  Willow took a seat in the leather chair and curled her legs up beneath her.  Angel sat on the sofa across from her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his fingers and thumbs forming a familiar triangle.

They sat there in silence, both glancing from their twiddling fingers to the other's face every now and then.  Angel cursed himself silently.  After all, he'd only thought about this meeting a million times over the last century, yet now he was at a complete loss for words.  All of his perfectly prepared eloquent speeches had fled him earlier that night when she'd called him 'Angelus'.

"So..." he started.

"So, you're Angel now?" Willow interrupted, cutting to the chase.

The vampire sat up a little straighter.  Maybe he couldn't remember his witty monologues, but he was quite capable of answering questions.  "I've gone by Angel for a while now."

Willow nodded yet again, and the uncomfortable silence continued for a few more minutes.

"And you have your soul?"

"I've had my soul ever since that night in Romania when I was cursed with it."

Willow shifted in her seat until she was sitting quite straight and proper, her feet on the floor. "You, um, never got happy, lost your soul again, and went on a people-and-fish-killing spree?"

Angel's lips curled slightly at the question.  "I've killed a few fish in my time but I wouldn't exactly call it a spree.  There was a parakeet too.  I don't seem to do well with pets."  Angel's uneasy grin faded when Willow didn't smile at his attempted humor.

Willow rose from the wide chair that suddenly felt too confining.  As she looked about the unfamiliar room, she thought it all seemed a little too easy.  She turned back and wagged an accusatory finger at the vampire.

"But...you chased me through the park...and that girl!  She'd been bitten and was bleeding, and..."  Willow stopped.  Before she could finish her allegation she already knew the answer.  It had been obvious even then but she'd been too panicked to see it.  "It was that other vampire, the one who ran by me, that was the one who hurt her, wasn't it?  You were just helping her."

Angel nodded, thankful that she'd figured out the truth on her own.  "She was just a little disoriented.  He'd hardly bitten her when I came across them but she felt the need to thank me..."

"It all makes perfect sense," she admitted almost reluctantly.  "I don't think I can remember the last time something made perfect sense."  Her eyes widened.  "But-but you said that you'd been waiting there *forever* for me.  Ah ha!  Explain that one!"

Angel's expression darkened slightly and he rose slowly to his feet.  "You were late, Willow.  We were all supposed to meet there."

Willow cocked her head to the side and watched him through narrowed eyes as she considered his words.  It was fairly believable that they'd all meet there.  After all, Buffy had been there too, and the others as well.  Not to mention the fact that they'd all basically said he was Angel and hadn't appeared even slightly afraid of him.  Yet, there'd been too many games played at her expense over Willow's long lifetime, and the redhead wasn't quite ready to celebrate her victory.

Aware that Angelus would have an answer for anything and everything, Willow knew there was only one way to be sure.  She approached him cautiously, studying him from head to toe as she drew nearer.

At first Angel nearly smiled as he found himself being sized up by the petite redhead, but as her intense scrutiny continued, the vampire became uncomfortable.  He didn't know how to give her the assurance that she so obviously needed.  By the time Willow came to a stop before him, the vampire felt like he should drop down on both knees and beg for her forgiveness and understanding, but he didn't.  Angel simply returned her burning gaze, inviting her to do whatever she felt necessary to be sure of who he was.

Willow peered as deeply into his sable eyes as she could, the whole time fighting a nearly overwhelming urge to get as far away from him as she could.  Yet she remained mere inches away from the looming vampire, ignoring the tremors that his nearness sent coursing through her body.

She knew it was silly.  She knew it was doubtful that she could really tell if he had his soul simply by looking into his eyes, but she had to try.  Willow was almost disappointed when she didn't see a neon sign somewhere in their depths, flashing 'Soul in Use'.  She frowned, ready to give up that particular line of silent questioning, when she finally saw him--Angel.  Angelus's coldness was gone, as was the usual mocking superiority.  For the first time ever, his fathomless eyes hid nothing from her.  It was all laid out for Willow to see and with such clarity that her own eyes stung in response.  Pain, guilt, shame--emotions she'd never seen in Angelus's eyes--and still there was more.  She found anger, relief, doubt, even gladness at her presence and at least a dozen other emotions she couldn't quite put her finger on, all swirling about in his dark orbs.  He was obviously as confused as she was, torn between being happy to see her and an intense hunger for answers.  Willow had never seen such a myriad of emotions in the soulless Angelus, even when he'd tried to fake it.  Her last shreds of doubt drifted away.

"It is you, Angel..." she whispered.  Before Angel could express his relief, Willow launched herself at him.  The redhead unabashedly hugged the vampire, and when Angel's arms immediately returned her embrace, her tears began to fall.

"Yes, Willow.  It's me...soul and all."

As caught off guard as he was by Willow's embrace, Angel's response was still immediate.  He pulled her even closer, cradling her head against his chest, savoring the moment that he'd waited for, for so long.  All he could think about was that Rose was back, and while it was early days yet, she wasn't afraid of him.  One of his nagging fears had always been that she'd forever be repulsed by him once her memories returned and she truly knew what he was capable of.  But at that moment, all his fears began to drift away as he held her once again.

Willow's eyes fluttered shut and a sigh escaped her lips at the feeling of Angel's fingers running through her hair.  She was flooded with a warming sense of relief at his cool, gentle touch.

But the moment of contentment was short lived.  Without meaning to, Willow recalled how Angelus had held her like this only once before when he was still alive.  In spite of all the turmoil at that time, Willow had felt strangely safe and at home in his arms.  As the familiar feelings began to well up within her, thoughts of Buffy and Oz quickly followed, and the moment was shattered.  As a wave of guilt washed away the warm happy feeling, she stiffened and pulled out of his arms.

"Sorry, Angel," she sniffled as he reluctantly let her go.  "It's just a relief to know that you're really what you say you are and not Angelus.  I just wasn't sure, and after everything that has happened...."

Angel took a step back as well.  Already missing the feeling of her heart beating against his chest, he finally thought to finish buttoning his shirt.

"No need to be sorry, Willow.  It's understandable, and I should be the one to apologize."

Willow wiped her remaining tears away with the back of her hand.  "For what?"

"Everything."

Willow watched as Angel's grin rapidly melted into a more familiar dour look.  "No, you don't have to do that."

Angel tilted his head to the side, wondering if he'd heard her right.  "You don't think I need to apologize for what I did to you--for what I promised to do to you the next time we met?"

Willow hesitated in answering.  A tiny voice inside of her was demanding that the vampire be made to beg for her mercy and to suffer at least some small portion of the anguish that she'd had to endure at his hands.  But it was a very small part, easily drowned out by the larger, louder portion that was caterwauling for Willow to move on with her life and pretend the whole thing never happened.

Giving in to the nearly overwhelming need for normalcy in her life, Willow threw her arms out at her sides.  "I don't know, Angel.  On the one hand, you did terrify me, gave me years of nightmares that I still can't forget, and not to mention all the cruel words...and well, you know...the biting..."

Angel winced but didn't look away.

"But on the other hand," Willow added, "considering who and what you were, I think you were probably on your best behavior with me.  I mean, as bad as it was, it could have been so much worse, right?"  Willow realized she probably sounded a bit trite, but she was trying to keep the mood lighthearted, having decided that it would be best for all parties concerned if they both simply put it all behind them once all the explanations were over.  After all, if Angel started to act weird and even more broody than usual every time they were near each other, it would make things difficult, not to mention uncomfortable.  She also didn't want it to affect her relationship with Buffy.

"Much, much worse," Angel replied somberly.  "But that doesn't mean that you don't deserve an apology."

"Maybe we should save the apologies for after we get everything out in the open.  I still have a lot of questions, Angel," .she informed him as she looked about their surroundings again.  "And I know you do as well.  Maybe when we're done spilling our guts, figuratively speaking, we can take turns apologizing to each other."

"You're going to apologize to me?"

"Maybe for some things..." she said softly, and then added more forcefully, "But I won't apologize for what happened to you, Angelus--I mean, Angel," she corrected herself with an embarrassed rolling of her eyes.  "I'm not sorry you have your soul, even if the idea to give it back to you wasn't originally ours in the first place."

"I don't expect you to apologize, Willow."

"Good.  Because I won't."

Angel smiled at her familiar stubbornness just as Jenny walked in, holding a tray laden with the usual tea supplies.  She stopped at the sight of the Willow and Angel talking.

"You're awake, Willow."

Willow turned to look at Jenny and wished she hadn't.  The redhead was positive that she had an odd look on her face as she stared at her supposed-to-be-dead computer teacher.

"So Angel tells me," the redhead said, more than a little awkwardly as Jenny set the tea service on the nearest table.  "But I'm still waiting for a camel to walk by and Luke Skywalker to break down the door, light saber at the ready."

Angel chuckled.  "No doubt about it.  She's Willow."

Smiling, Jenny gave her student a hug.  "How do you feel, Willow?"

"Confused...tired...embarrassed for fainting like that...but I'm thinking confusion is pretty much the emotion of the day."

"That's understandable, considering everything Spike put you through," Jenny reminded her.

Ignoring the Spike gibe, Willow glanced around the converted church.  "I guess I never thought this day would come and now that it has, I'm a little...lost."

"Things are different then?" Angel blurted out, unable to bridle his curiosity any longer.

Unconsciously, Willow's eyes darted to Jenny.  Then, trying to cover up what she figured was probably a huge time travel faux pas, Willow forced herself to look about the room again.

"You could say that...in fact, you could say that a hundred times, and I don't think it would quite cover it."

Jenny quickly poured the chamomile tea, handing both Angel and Willow a steaming cupful.  "What do you remember, Willow?"

"I remember everything.  I remember the whole 'back in time' episode, and everything that happened before that.

"What about the last couple of years?" Angel questioned, trying unsuccessfully to keep the anxiousness out of his voice.

Willow was confused by the question.  "Sure," she said after a gulp of the warm brew, "the last two years I was with Spike and the Rom--"

"No, Willow," Jenny interrupted.  "What about the last two years here with us in Sunnydale?"

"Of course I remem..."  Willow stopped, finally realizing that everything she recalled of her last two years in Sunnydale was obviously no longer accurate.  After all, Jenny had died and Angel...well, he hadn't been the souled Angel, had he?  She set the teacup down with shaking hands.  "I--I guess I don't remember everything because not only do I not have the slightest idea where I am, but neither of you would be here..."  She looked at her teacher and had to quickly look away again.  How do you tell someone that they are supposed to be dead or burning in hell?

Seeing the young woman's distress, the teacher tried to ease her discomfort.  "It's alright Willow.  Your reaction to me in the park confirmed something I had suspected for sometime now.  In your past, I'd died, hadn't I?"

Willow bit her lip as she nodded her head.

Jenny squeezed her hand reassuringly.  "It's okay, Willow.  We can talk about that later if you want.  But I would imagine that you must have a million questions.  I know I do, but I think it's only fair that you go first."

She led Willow to the couch and sat beside her.  Angel took a seat on the arm of the chair across from them.

"So, Willow, where do you want to start?" the dark-haired woman asked.

Willow was acutely aware that Jenny and Angel were scrutinizing her, trying to figure out how she'd changed, and if she was still Willow.  <That's a good question.> Jenny was right, a million questions were bouncing around in Willow's head, screaming for resolution, but she knew that until she told them what they needed to know they would continue to stare at her like she was some sort of science experiment gone awry.

"It's okay.  You two go first.  Fire away."  Willow hoped that she sounded excited, but in truth she was terrified.

Jenny and Angel looked at each other in mild surprise.

"Alright, Willow," Jenny began.  "Why don't I just tell you what I know first, then you can fill in the blanks, okay?"  Willow nodded and the Gypsy continued.  "This is going to be confusing no matter how we do it..."  She took a deep breath.  "What I know, Willow, is that Spike found a spell that took you both back in time.  The spell had a side-effect that made you temporarily immortal, and--"

"Wait, "Willow interrupted.  "How do you even know that much?"

Jenny rose and walked to the table where she'd been sitting before.  She grabbed the large, leather-bound book that she and Angel had argued about and handed it to Willow.  "I have your journals, Willow, or as they are now called, 'The Writings'.  The entries that you made throughout your travels have been passed down from generation to generation of Rom.  It's very obvious, though, that they aren't complete.  It had been decided long ago that no one should know too much about the future, so the Elders edited it heavily, leaving only hints and sketches as to the events of both your travels in the past as well as your life in Sunnydale before Spike kidnapped you.  From the way The Writings were edited, as well as a few other statements, I had even suspected that Angelus had killed me, even though that too must have been deleted from your writings long ago."

With shaking hands, Willow lifted the well-worn cover.  She knew instantly that the book she held wasn't one of the many tomes that she'd actually written in for all those years.  When she reverently studied the yellowing pages, she was surprised to find that it was not in her handwriting, nor was it even in English.  Although she had learned to read, speak, and write the language of the Rom during her many years with them, she had always written in English for the privacy that it afforded her.  Willow looked at Jenny questioningly.

"Your original and complete journals are kept in our people's safe place, guarded by many wards and spells of protection.  This is just one of the translations.  I should probably explain that I am its Keeper.  It is, or was, my responsibility to see to it that the prophecies therein were heeded."

"Prophecies?  You used my journals, the pages and pages I wrote about my life here in Sunnydale, as prophecies?"

Before Jenny could respond, Angel spoke up.  "The Writings are by Willow?  The prophecies that have helped us to defeat the Master, destroy Acathla, and everything else were written by Willow?  She was the mysterious, all-knowing prophet?"

"Yes," Jenny said in answer to both of their questions.  "Because she traveled back in time, Willow was able to prophesize her own future, in a sense."

Angel was speechless.  All this time, The Writings were nothing more that Willow's diary.  Yet, they had become invaluable in their fight against the darker forces that existed in abundance in Sunnydale.  Now it all made a perfect twisted kind of sense, and he was ashamed that he hadn't figured it all out earlier.

Willow shook her head in amazement, not trying to stop the tears of relief that were trickling down her cheeks.  "It worked," she smiled at the others.  "It actually worked.  I mean, everything happened so...so fast in the end that I hadn't prepared the way I should have.  I--I had written everything down once and had given it to the Watchers Council in London.  I had hoped that they would use it to help Buffy in case things didn't work out right...."

She closed her eyes and hugged the book tightly to her chest.  "I never thought of leaving the responsibility to the Rom instead of the Council.  Tekla is...was...an amazing woman."

"Yes, she was."

Willow took a deep breath, readying herself to go on, when an embarrassing thought occurred to her.  She looked at Jenny, hoping she could keep from blushing.

"Jenny, who else has read my journals...the original ones?"

Sensing the source of Willow's discomfort, Jenny squeezed her hand.  "Don't worry, Willow.  Even *I* haven't read your journals.  No one has in more than a century, as far as I know.  They are forbidden.  And The Writings are *completely* lacking in the personal thoughts department.  All of your secrets, if you had any, that is, are still secret."

Willow let out a long sigh of relief.  She didn't know how she'd be able to face her friends, let alone Angel, if they were to have read her most private thoughts and the more intimate details of her time in the past.  The mere idea of the possibility made it nearly impossible for her to look at Angel for the next few minutes.

"Can I go on, Willow?" Jenny asked, gesturing to the book.

Willow handed it to her with a nod.

"Let's see...as I was saying," the teacher said, skimming quickly through its pages.  "Spike took you back in time to seek revenge on Angel for the death-suicide of his lover Drusilla.  Like I said, the details are sketchy, but I do know that you arrived in Galway around the time that Angelus was sired by Darla.  *But* if I understand this correctly, Spike had wanted to arrive closer to the time that Drusilla was actually sired in the mid-1800s so he could kill Angelus afterwards, but you somehow affected the spell, causing it to take you back to when Angel was human instead, correct?"

Willow simply nodded before sneaking a peek at Angel.  From the pained expression he was wearing, Willow had no doubt that the vampire was hearing it all for the first time.  Now the redhead felt the need to go into details--not for the Gypsy, but for Angel's sake.

"I just couldn't let Spike kill him because I knew we needed him here.  I was worried about Buffy...and so when he told me to concentrate on a date close to Drusilla's being vamped, I...well, I kinda cheated.  I didn't know if it would work.  We were lucky, I guess."

To Willow's surprise, Jenny jotted down a few notes in the margins of the book.  Then, oblivious to the effect her words were having on the vampire, Jenny continued.

"Now, in Galway, you and Spike reached a compromise of sorts, yes?"

Willow took a deep breath.  "Yes.  I agreed to stay in the past for another 50 or so years until the time of Spike's own turning *if* Spike would let Angelus live.  The plan was for me to keep Angelus busy so that when Darla came to town they would never meet.  Then, when she was gone, Spike and I would lay low for a while and he'd either sire himself or get Darla to do it, or something."  Willow shrugged a little sheepishly.  "We hadn't really figured that part out yet."

Willow quickly glanced at Angel and found him watching her, but his face was expressionless.  She gave him a small smile, trying to somehow reassure the vampire.  Without acknowledging her attempt, Angel got to his feet and moved to stare out the window.

"And he agreed to this?" Jenny asked.

Willow sighed, her eyes now fixed on the back of the dark vampire.  "Yes...but he lied to me.  He never had any intention of letting the human Angelus live.  By the time I figured it out, it was too late."

Angel let out a soft half-grunt, half-laugh.  "He betrayed you too, then?"

"Yes, but that was a long time ago, Angel.  He didn't know any other way to get back the Drusilla he loved without you siring her.  Spike was consumed by his need to be with Drusilla again."

Angel made no comment as Willow tried to explain his childe's actions.  He continued to stare unseeing through the colored glass.

"What did you do then?" Jenny questioned the redhead.  "The journals say that you traveled on your own for a while."

"I ran away from Spike.  He tried to explain to me why he'd done it, but I wouldn't listen.  For almost fifty years I traveled throughout Britain, avoiding Angelus and Spike, and trying to find a way to fix the mess I had created.  I felt...responsible for Angelus's death.  I felt like I had let everyone down.  For fifty years I searched everywhere, either for a way to end the spell or for the Rom curse so I could recurse Angelus myself, but I failed at that too..."  Remembering that painful time brought Willow to her feet.  She hugged her arms about herself and took a few aimless steps toward the center of the room, away from Jenny and Angel.

Choosing to ignore the increased tension in the room, Jenny pressed on.  "From now on, the details get even fewer and farther between, Willow.  It says you eventually ended up back in London, where you accidentally ran into Spike again."

"Yes..."

"Then what happened?"

Having heard enough, Angel turned on the teacher.  "Don't you think you've put her through enough for one night?" he demanded.

"It's okay, Angel," Willow said without turning around.  "Yes, Spike and I ran into each other.  It wasn't pleasant at first...I was so bitter...but in the end it all worked itself out.  Spike became injured and I helped him.  That same night, I stupidly walked through the park and was attacked by a couple of vampires..."  Willow turned and looked squarely at Angel.  "I was bitten, very badly...but somehow I managed to escape and make it back to where Spike was staying.  He...helped me."

"You trusted him?"

"I had to, Jenny," Willow answered, but her words were more for Angel now.  "In a manner of speaking, Spike *saved* me in more ways than one.  After that, we were friends.  I trusted him completely."

"You were...friends?" Jenny repeated, not quite sure she'd heard Willow right.

Willow tore her eyes away from Angel long enough to answer Jenny.  "Yes, Spike and I were friends.  And although we've had our ups and downs, we still are."

For just a moment, Jenny's mouth fell open, but she quickly composed herself.  Angel managed to resist the urge to put his fist through the window, but he was far from composed when Jenny insisted on extending their torture.

"The Writings simply state at some point in the early 1800s that you stayed with the Rom for a considerable length of time.  And while there are pages and pages about your stay with them, once you leave, the information is even sparser than before.  All I'm sure of is that somehow, Angelus managed to trace you back to the Rom decades later, and that's when Spike had them curse Angelus with his soul, and just in the knick of time, apparently."

"That's all it says?"  Willow asked a little suspiciously.

"Basically."

Willow hoped her enormous relief wasn't too apparent on her face.  After all, Jenny hadn't mentioned anything about how close she and Spike had actually became, or how Rose and Angelus had run into each other again playing poker, or about her little stay with him and William and the subsequent deal she and Spike had made with Angelus.  The more she thought about it, the more thankful she was for the abridged version of her personal journals.

"Good, because that pretty much covers it," Willow stated in a matter of fact tone.  "After all, here were are."

Jenny gripped her pen, the tip hovering over the margins in the journal as she readied herself to make more additions.

"But what about all those years in between?  What about you and Spike?  Did you meet Angelus again?  How did he find you?  What were the circumstances and events that had lead to Angelus being cursed with his soul the first time around?"

Thankfully, Willow's stomach chose that precise moment to let out a ravenous growl.

"Ooh, sorry.  I haven't eaten in--"

"A century and then some," Angel filled in, also thankful for the interruption.

"Anything in particular you've been craving, Willow?" Jenny asked, momentarily putting aside her note taking.

"Pizza and a coke," Willow responded immediately with a hungry grin.

"Considering the time, is frozen okay?  I'm sure we have your favorite kind in the freezer."

"Ooh!  And can I have *lots* of ice?  I missed ice in my drinks."

"I'm sure I can manage that," Jenny laughed as she left Angel and Willow alone, disappearing down the same hallway that Angel had made his entrance from earlier.  It wasn't until she was gone that Willow thought to wonder why they had her favorite kind of pizza on hand, but she doubted this was the best time to ask Angel any questions.  He seemed far from happy about what he'd just heard.

"Somehow I always thought playing 'This is Your Life" would be more fun than that," Willow mumbled to herself.

"You ready to hear that apology yet?"

"For what, Angel?"

Angel went to stand in front of Willow.  He wanted to pull her into his arms again, but resisted the urge.  "I never knew you spent all of that time alone, Willow.  That must have been horrible for you...all alone in a strange country, strange time...."

Willow shrugged it away and stepped back from the vampire.  "It wasn't fun but I survived.  Besides, that was hardly your fault.  I'm just sorry you had to find out this way about Spike.  This must be hard for you to hear.  I saw how close you and William were."

"Spike is not my William, never was," Angel said in a near growl.  "William would never betray me like that...not for Drusilla, not for anyone."

Willow opened her mouth to try to explain Spike's actions but thought the better of it.  Perhaps when everything wasn't so fresh, she could make Angel understand Spike's motivations...at least as much as she understood them.  Trying to change the subject and hopefully ease some of the tension, Willow glanced around the room again.

"Nice place Jenny has here."

Angel looked up from the spot on the floor that he'd been boring holes in with his eyes.  "Hmm?  Oh, this is my place, not Jenny's."  He paused.  "You don't recognize it?"

Willow gnawed on her lip as she reluctantly shook her head.  "No."

Angel frowned at the new revelation but decided to worry about its possible significance later.  At that moment, he was more concerned with how uncomfortable Willow looked in his home.  He wanted to put her at ease.

"As you can probably tell," Angel began casually, taking a seat on the windowsill, "it used to be a church."

"It's beautiful," Willow responded truthfully.

Jenny joined them, handing Willow a pint glass nearly overflowing with ice and cola.  "This place has been a godsend, really," she added.  "The basement is perfect for Buffy's training.  Lots of room for her to work out.  Rupert keeps the majority of his reference materials here now instead of at the school.  Makes it easier when we're up all night researching this and that.  Now we don't have to worry about being caught at the library after hours or Snyder questioning the sort of reading material he has on public display at the library.  We have everything we need here.  It's become like our second home."

Willow didn't know what to say, other than the sudden need to shout "But this is all wrong!"  Willow held her tongue by taking a huge gulp of the fizzy drink instead.  As delicious as it was, Willow couldn't enjoy it.  Her uneasiness was growing exponentially.

"So, if you've never been here before, where did Buffy train?" Jenny asked, noting her darkening disposition.  "Where did we research in your...time?"

Willow tucked a section of hair behind her ears and licked her dry lips.  "At the school library, actually.  Believe it or not, no one ever questioned our presence there at 2 AM on a Wednesday or on a Sunday afternoon during the summer.  Actually, no one ever commented about the occult section being ten times larger than natural science section, either.  Doesn't really bode well for the American public school system, does it?"

"Would you like a tour while you wait for the pizza?"  Angel asked.

"Why not," she said with a forced smile.  "Maybe it will jar my memory."

Angel looked about the room with a quiet smile on his pale face.  "This was the Church of St. Odilo, and that's actually him in that window there," he said, pointing to a particularly ornate stained-glass window near the front of the church which depicted a benevolent appearing man surrounded by many despondent souls.  "It was left vacant in the 50s when its congregation was absorbed by a larger catholic church in town.  Since then, it's been a homeless shelter, among other things, and most recently several failed antique shops."

With Willow at his side, Angel slowly walked down the row of windows, turning on a light now and then so she could see the beautiful handmade windows and fine millwork.

"I found it one of my first days here in Sunnydale.  It had two huge 'For Sale' signs in the front windows that you could barely see through the over-grown lawn, but somehow when I saw the name of the church, I knew."

"What do you mean?" Willow asked before taking another sip of her soda.

"St. Odilo is the patron saint of souls in purgatory.  Seemed a fittin' home fer a vampire with a soul, seekin' redemption," Angel commented, slipping into the brogue without realizing it.  Willow, however, noticed it.  As her hand clutched the glass even more tightly, she reminded herself that Angel was as Irish as Angelus was, as obvious as that may have seemed, and he had every right to speak his native tongue.  Still, it unnerved her more than she cared to admit.  She blamed the chill that kept running along her spine on the icy glass she was holding.

Willow continued to numbly follow Angel around.  She listened as best she could but the more he went on about what all he, Giles, Jenny, Buffy and the Scooby Gang did in the converted church, the more uneasy she grew.  On one hand, it sounded great.  They had their own place to hang out, research, do the Slayer and Wicca thing, without having to worry about outside interference.  Better yet, Angel seemed interested in helping them as much as he could and in many different ways.  He'd even purchased many of the library's rarer volumes himself.  Heck, it sounded like a great little club that they'd created for themselves.

<And everyone knows the secret handshake but me,> she mused silently.

Angel led her down the long hallway in the front of the sanctuary.  It had once led to the Sunday school rooms and offices in the back, but they now served as storage rooms and, oddly enough, spare bedrooms.  There were actually three spare bedrooms, and apparently she and the rest of the Scooby Gang used them quite frequently when their researching kept them there at all hours.  Angel gestured to a door at the end of a smaller side hallway.  He informed her that it led to what was once a smaller, more private chapel.

"Now it's my bedroom," Angel said, causing Willow to choke on her Coke.

"Sorry...not used to the ice cubes...went down the wrong way," she sputtered, her face flushing.

Trying not to smile, Angel continued the tour.  He showed Willow where the bathrooms were and the small but well-equipped kitchenette near the end of the hallway.  Willow's stomach growled again at the delicious aroma wafting from the oven.

Next to the tiny kitchen, a staircase led down into the basement.  As they stood at the top of the stairway, Willow listened to Angel explain that the basement held a rarely used industrial-sized kitchen, another room almost as large as the upstairs of the church itself that Buffy used for workout and training space, plus more rooms for storage and so on.  Apparently, there was also a handy access to the sewer system, making it only a quick hop-skip-jump to the school.

Just as the tour was to actually continue down into the basement, the buzzer went off, indicating that Willow's long-dreamt about pizza was ready.  Promising he'd show it all to her later, Angel went back into the kitchenette and donned a pair of red and black checked oven mitts before sliding the pizza out of the oven.

Willow shook her head as she walked back up the hallway to join Jenny.  It was wrong--all very, very wrong in a 'didn't everything turn out great?' kind of way.

Willow was too lost in her thoughts as she devoured three slices of pizza to even savor the flavor.  As she ate, Willow avoided their eyes.  There was so much more to talk about tonight and somehow she knew it was only going to get worse.

"Willow," Jenny finally said as she brought her another Coke, "why don't you tell us what your life was like before you left?  Who your friends were, what you did in your spare time, our lives?  Anything you can think of that may have possibly changed."

"Were all those details deleted out of the, er, Writings?"

"Yes.  After you get a chance to look at them you'll see that very little personal information remains.  Of course, now that you are back, we can see about getting the originals from Romania for you."

"I'd like that."

"So, Willow," Jenny continued, resuming her seat next to the redhead, "Tell us about yourself before Spike decided to play God."

Willow suddenly felt very cold.  She finally met her teacher's eyes, and Willow could easily see that the woman sensed there were more differences between the two timelines.  She put the rest of her pizza down.  Her appetite had vanished.

"Okay, well here it goes..." she began after a deep breath.

Willow quickly detailed her childhood, her lifelong friendship with Xander and Jesse and continued on to the day that she met Buffy.  So far, Angel and Jenny hadn't exchanged any knowing glances, so Willow felt comfortable that there were no monumental changes in her life as she knew it.  Willow took a deep breath and continued, realizing that if things were going to be different in her life, the changes would probably have occurred after Buffy's arrival.  She told of the friendship that had quickly developed between Buffy, Xander, and herself after they learned the Slayer's secret.  Willow quickly skimmed over Angel's introduction to the 'Scooby Gang' and how he began to help them.  She told them how Jesse died, the problems they experienced with the Master and the Anointed One, and while Jenny indicated that things had happened a little differently because of The Writings, the end results were the same.

Willow took a deep breath when she came to the point in her story were Angel became Angelus.

"One night, on Buffy's birthday, Angel...um...lost his soul."

"How?"

"It was when we were trying to stop Spike from assembling The Judge.  Things looked really bad, and....Wait.  Did that happen?  Did William, I mean Spike, try to assemble The Judge as a gift for Drusilla?"

Jenny shook her head.  "We never gave him the chance.  Because of The Writings, the Watchers Council had been collecting pieces of him over the years and destroying them."

"How did I lose my soul, Willow?" Angel prodded anxiously.

"Oh...well...you had a moment of, um, true happiness...I--I explained it all in my journals."

Jenny squeezed the girl's trembling hand.  "I'm sorry, Willow.  I know this is hard for you, but again, many of the events that I'm sure you went into great detail about are not in The Writings.  The Elders kept everything vague and, well, quite prophesy-like.  Even the parts that discussed Angel, the vampire with a soul, were rather oblique."

Willow couldn't help scowling at Jenny's words.  As thankful as she was for Angel never having lost his soul, she couldn't understand why the prophetic parts of her journals weren't more straightforward and accurate.  It could have made everything so much simpler.

"So," Jenny went on, noting the pensive look on the girl's face.  "I understand that there used to be a--I guess you called it a happiness clause--but exactly how did Angel lose his soul in your old timeline?  How did he achieve a moment of true happiness?"

<This is *so* not fun anymore,> Willow silently fumed.  Willow rose to her feet and walked to the nearest window.  She couldn't see much out of the stained glass, but she wasn't really trying to look outside.

"It happened after he had sex...I mean, made love..." Willow said, tracing one of the lines of leaded glass with a shaky finger, vaguely wondering who the person was depicted in the glass.

"You and Angel made love and he lost his soul?" Jenny asked as delicately as possible.

"Me?  No, not me," she laughed nervously.  "Angel and Buffy, of course."

"Buffy?" Jenny and Angel exclaimed in unison.

It was the incredulous tone in both their voices that started the warning bells chiming in Willow's head.  She turned to face them, finding that their surprise was just as evident on their faces.

"Of course, Buffy.  You two were--*are*--in love."  The amazement was gone from the vampire's face, only to be replaced with something darker.

"Buffy and I slept together?"

Just the once, Angel, because after that you weren't exactly lovey-dovey anymore.  Not the kind of boyfriend one invites to the prom," she added a little more softly, remembering a conversation she'd had with Spike about that same topic.

Angel ran his hand down his face wearily, and then he slowly moved to stand at the redhead's side.

"Willow, Buffy and I are not sleeping together at all.  We're not--

"Oh, I see," Willow interrupted.  She turned away from him to study the books on the shelf next to her.  "You two haven't slept together yet because you were worried about losing your soul, right?  Jenny wasn't kidding when she said they edited my journals.  Would have been nice if they'd left that part in," Willow barely stopped to breathe before continuing with her embarrassed and uncomfortable babble.  "To make you two wait like that isn't very nice, and I think I know something about waiting.  Of course, in my case it was a little different, but--"

Angel took the book out of her hand and reshelved it, trying to get the redhead's full attention.  But she was undaunted and grabbed another book before walking away, pretending to study its pages.

Angel followed.  "No, Willow, you don't understand..."

Feeling the unmistakable urge to flee, Willow began to head for the exit.  She wanted nothing more than to get out of earshot before he said something that she'd rather not hear.

"I mean, you've waited a long time, Angel."  She dropped the book on the nearest table as she rushed for the doors.  "So maybe I should head home and you can call Buffy and tell her to come over and--"

Angel was on the redhead's heels.  He stopped her retreat, grabbing the babbling girl by the upper arms and turning her to face him.  As Angel gently made her look at him, all the air seemed to leave the room, and Willow found her breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Willow, Buffy and I aren't...close."

Willow already knew were the conversation was heading, and she didn't need any prophetic writings to figure it out, but she was refusing to believe that it was possible.  Could she really have messed up things that badly?  Could she have inadvertently come between the two soul mates?

She flashed Angel a fake smile as she tried to wriggle out of his hold.  "Well, you're taking your time, then?  That's good.  Very, um, romantic, and I'm sure Buf--"

"Buffy and I aren't dating.  We aren't a couple, romantic or otherwise.  Buffy and I are friends, and that's all, Willow.  All it has ever been, all it will ever be."

Angel let her go then, and Willow backed away, shaking her head.

"Please tell me you're joking.  Tell me anything but that, Angel.  Tell me that Ronald Reagan was elected for three more terms or that...that Canada invaded and we all have to learn how to play hockey now, but not this.... Please, Angel, tell me that you and Buffy are...."

The look on Angel's face said it all.  With her back against the wall, Willow sank to the floor only a few feet from the exit.  She pulled her knees against her chest, wrapping her arms about her legs.

"Oh God...what have I done?" she repeated over and over again with her forehead on her knees.

Angel was at a complete loss as to how to help Willow.  He was still too stunned at Willow's announcement to be much use in soothing her.  Before he could come up with any kind of comforting thought, Willow's head jerked up.

"What else is different?" she demanded, not bothering to wipe the new tears away.  "What else have I ruined?  Is Buffy okay?  What about Giles?  Are Xander and Cordelia still together?"

"Xander and Cordelia are still the happy couple, strangely enough," Jenny answered.  "Rupert is...Rupert, as far as I know.  Although, I *have* managed to get him into a pair of jeans once or twice.  Lord knows that nearly took a magik spell in itself."

Willow focused on Angel.  "What about Buffy?"

"Buffy is fine, Willow.  She's a normal teen-aged girl, or at least as normal as the Slayer can be.  She dates, she goes to school, she even asked my opinion once on what to wear on a date.  She didn't listen, but she did ask."

Willow didn't even blink before she uttered the next word.  "Oz."

It was when Angel and Jenny exchanged a 'look' that Willow felt the bile begin to burn its way up her throat.  Her stomach clenched, preparing for the next blow.

Jenny knelt in front of the distressed redhead.  "Willow, about Oz, we have some...bad news."

"Just say it."

Jenny glanced at Angel and then back to Willow before continuing.  "Willow, Oz is...well, he's a werewolf."

Willow finally blinked.  "And?"

Jenny looked to Angel for help.

"For three nights every month, we have to lock him in the old walk-in refrigerator in the basement, Willow.  He becomes a werewolf...a killer..."

Willow used the wall to push herself into a standing position.  She looked back and forth between the vampire and the Gypsy, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Is that all?" she asked disbelievingly.  Jenny stood up and confirmed it with a nod of her head.

Willow allowed herself to feel the slightest bit of relief.  "I know that," Willow told them.  "He was a werewolf when we were together, too.  Although, I wish the Elders had left that part in because then maybe we could have warned him to avoid his cousin Jordy with the biting tendency..."

As Willow babbled on, she didn't notice the other 'look' that Jenny and Angel exchanged.

Jenny elbowed Angel, who in turn shook his head, elbowed Jenny right back, and then quickly backed away.

Jenny mouthed 'chicken' to Angel, before clearing her throat and stopping Willow in mid-babble.  "When you say 'together' Willow, how exactly do you mean?"

With the tiny smile of relief still fresh on her face, Willow quickly turned away from them both.  The hint of a grin quickly melted away as she easily deciphered the meaning behind Jenny's question.

"Um, I think I'm going to go now," Willow said distractedly, glancing about the room one last time as if looking for a coat.  "I'm, um, really tired and would like to sleep in my own bed for a change."  Willow turned to face them, flashing a brave but obviously fake smile.  "I'll see you...um... tomorrow and we can talk more...."

Willow's feet were taking the last final steps toward the door before she'd even finished speaking.

Jenny moved to stop her.  "Willow, wait.  There's more you need to know."

Willow threw upon the door with one hand, holding the other up to stop Jenny.  "No, I don't think I can take anymore good news tonight.

Jenny stopped and sent Angel a pleading look.

"Willow, it's almost four in the morning," Angel reminded her.  "Just stay here tonight.  We don't have to talk if you don't want to.  You can go straight to bed and we'll leave you alone."

Jenny sent the girl an apologetic look.  "Angel's right.  Maybe we shouldn't have sprung all of this on you at once, but stay here tonight.  You'll feel better in the morning when everyone comes over."

Willow turned around, her hand firm on the brass handle of the door, the cool night air blowing her hair into her face.  She couldn't bring herself to look at either Jenny or Angel, afraid of what answers she might be able to see in their eyes.  She instead kept them on the oriental throw rug beneath her feet.

"You know, I always thought seeing Buffy and Xander again would make me happy.  Now I'm not so sure."  She glanced about the beautifully renovated church, yet it meant nothing to her.  "You all have lots of memories of this place, your little pizza and research slumber parties, and I'm not a part of that."

"Yes you are, Willow.  You just don't remember it!" Angel insisted.

Willow turned back and stepped through the door, out onto the stoop.  She stopped and looked over her shoulder.  "How can I have memories of something I never did, Angel?  It *wasn't* me!  And you don't know me any better than I know you.  None of you do anymore."

Angel watched as Willow practically slammed the door behind her, his eyes closing at the hollow sound.

"Angel, she just needs some time, and we should give her that.  But perhaps you should follow her, just to make sure she makes it home safely," Jenny softly suggested.

Angel's eyes flew open.  "She's not going home," he informed her as he headed for the door to follow the redhead.  "She's going to see *him*."

"Oz?"

Angel couldn't keep the venom from his voice.  "No, she's going to see my traitorous childe.  She's going to see Spike."
 

~Chapter Four~

Willow ran into the humid night air, not caring at first where she was headed.  The irony was not lost on the redhead, even in her distressed state.  She'd been here before, maybe not in the same location, but in a similar state of mind and fleeing from the same vampire.  The difference was this time instead of running away from Angelus in fear for her life, she was running away from Angel and a life she knew little about.  And so Willow tore down the empty street until the stabbing stitch in her side caused her to slow her frantic pace and catch her breath.

She was tired, and not just from her mad dash through Sunnydale.  She was tired of running away from things...people...feelings.  She'd thought she was through with that after Spike's odd-but-effective therapy some years ago that had resulted in a chair leg being jammed deep within his chest.  She'd felt so much better after that and had been able for the first time to really enjoy her trip back in time.  Willow couldn't help smiling as she remembered her final years with Spike.  God, they'd had some fun during their more 'brotherly' travels.  Sure, it was a no-sex kind of fun, but looking back on it now, she knew she wouldn't change a thing.

As she thought about Spike and their most recent post-Angelus misadventures, Willow was able to get a good grip on her seesawing emotions.  Now she had to find Spike and make sure he really was okay, because in this matter, she couldn't simply take Jenny's word for it.  Willow needed to see with her own green eyes that he was alive, relatively speaking, and well.  And maybe if she could just talk to him for a little while, then everything would be better.  After all, that's what friends were for.

Resolved to speak with Spike as soon as possible, Willow glanced about, trying to figure out exactly where she was.  When she'd heard the name of the church earlier, it hadn't sounded familiar, but then again, Willow was hardly an authority on the Catholic churches of Sunnydale.  It took a moment but soon Willow realized where she was.

The church wasn't in a bad location, considering its new purpose.  It was convenient to the school, several of the more active cemeteries, and even The Bronze.  From what she could tell, The Church of St. Odilo was nestled smack dab in the middle of Sunnydale's version of the Bermuda Triangle.  Maybe it wasn't the ideal spot for a church, but for a bunch of high school students trying to save a small town from the forces of evil, it was the ideal headquarters.

Feeling a stab of resentment, Willow sighed before taking another deep breath and very slowly releasing it in an effort to cleanse herself of the darker emotion.  She knew she needed to be reasonable and try to look at the situation from a new perspective.  So as she continued her early morning journey to seek out Spike, she made herself picture her calming place and practice her deep breathing until, after a block or so, she was feeling more like herself.

Objectively, Willow had to admit that things really did look somewhat better for the Scooby Gang in this timeline.  Of course, she didn't know everything yet.  There could have been some horrible side effect that she didn't know about, like Twinkies and rootbeer never having been invented.  That would be bad.  Still, it was obvious that, this time around, they had more resources at their immediate disposal than ever before.  After all, they had hundreds of more books, their own computers, and a fully equipped training area for Buffy.  Plus, Angel seemed so much more....

Willow ended that train of thought quickly as a fresh stab of guilt ripped through her.  She forcibly pushed the familiar ill feeling away, deciding to see if she could go a whole hour in this new timeline guilt-free.  She continued her journey while focusing on more positive thoughts.

On the other hand, maybe something wonderful had happened, perhaps even on a global scale.  Maybe she and Spike had unknowingly advanced the cause of science, resulting in the ability for man to travel past the speed of light, or build a space station on the moon, or develop a cure for cancer.  The possibilities were endless.

The more positive thoughts nearly made Willow smile, and there was just a tad bit more spring to her step.  Although she sincerely doubted that anything miraculous had come from their little jaunt through time, she also doubted deep down that anything horrific had resulted from it either.  If they affected anything of historical value, it would have been the origins of poker at the most.  Willow made a mental note to do some quiet research into the history of gambling and see if anything seemed different.  After all, Spike had brought poker to Ireland a good century before it was even supposed to have been invented.

Now, as Willow cautiously made her way through the streets and parks of Sunnydale, she really did smile at the notion of their names being whispered reverently in gambling establishments around the world.  Perhaps even having a specific poker hand named after them!  And wouldn't she have fun explaining that one to Giles, not that she was in any hurry to share the past one-hundred-plus years with the librarian or any of her other friends.  She had too many of her own questions that still needed to be answered before she'd be ready to handle the endless amount of inane queries that Xander alone would probably generate.  For now, Willow was going to do her best to be the same old Willow they'd always known.

The closer she came to the mansion, the more careful Willow became, until she was practically crawling from bush to bush the last fifty yards or so.  Then she was there, standing behind a thick tree and some overgrown bushes in the empty lot across from the mansion.  From her position some 15 feet above the street, atop the sloping parcel of land, she could look down and spy on the front of the dark house.

<Now what?> Willow thought to herself.  She was too smart just to waltz in.  Like Jenny had told Angel earlier, Drusilla could be around.  And while the redhead had no desire whatsoever to see Drusilla, she could only imagine how Drusilla felt about her.  If the vampiress knew even a fraction of what had happened between she and Spike, let alone everything else that had happened while they were in the past, chances were that Willow was probably quite high on the dark-haired beauty's persona nongrata list.

Coming to the conclusion that it would be almost impossible to talk to Spike, Willow sighed.  She wasn't foolish enough to go breezing into the mansion like she had a written invitation.  Now that Drusilla was back in Spike's life, things would be different.  She could only hope that Spike would seek her out, and soon.

Willow shivered, drawing her arms about herself, trying to find some comfort in her own shaking limbs.  Just as her thoughts had taken an even more morose turn, she saw them.  Drusilla and Spike were walking down the street, holding hands, laughing, and whispering into each other's ears like newlyweds.  Willow moved further behind the tree as she watched.

She was conflicted.

On the one hand, she was happy for Spike.  In spite of everything that had happened and the mess that he'd actually created in her life, she wanted him to be happy.  It still tickled her romantic fancy that he'd gone to such lengths just to be with the love of his life again.  Watching them now as they leaned against the stone wall, kissing deeply as their hands wandered each other's bodies, she let loose a soft, girlish sigh.

On the other hand, it didn't quite seem right that he appeared so blissfully happy when her world--no matter how pitiful Spike had always said it was--was falling apart.  Willow sighed again.  This time it was filled with loneliness and longing.  And yet she couldn't make herself stop watching them.

*****

Angel's own pace toward the mansion was less desperate, initially.  In the beginning, he had no intention of stopping Willow, although his gut reaction had been to do whatever necessary to insure that Spike never laid eyes on his Willow again.

Spike.  Not his Spike.  Not the William he sired, trained...not the one with his blood pumping in his veins.  No, not the William that had been his constant companion for decades, but the *other* one.  Willow was running to the vampire that had done nothing but lie to him from the moment the bleached-blonde Englishman had insinuated himself into Angel's life.  She wasn't safe with Spike, no matter what kind of relationship she thought they had.  If Spike could have fooled him, using him as a means to an end, Spike could undoubtedly play Willow in the same way.  And now that it was over, now that the self-centered vampire no longer had a use for her, she could be in danger.

As Angel's thoughts dwelled on the vampire who'd betrayed him, his long strides quickened until he was running at full speed.  He would not allow his Willow to be hurt again by Spike.

Angel made his way as quickly as he could to the mansion, cutting through the park where he'd run into Willow earlier that night.  On the way, he discovered the vampire that had escaped him then.  Angel made quick work of dispatching the fledgling, before hurrying on his way.

Then he saw her up ahead, partially leaning against and partially hiding behind a large, twisted old tree.  She was staring down the weedy bank at the Crawford Mansion.  Angel stopped where he was, wanting to observe her for a moment in hopes that he could understand what was going on in her head as she stood looking down at the house.  Unfortunately, he couldn't be a silent witness for long.  After only a moment, Willow stiffened, becoming aware of his presence.

She'd hoped that he wouldn't follow her, but she also knew that he would.  He always had before.  But knowing it didn't help the tired redhead prepare.  Willow wasn't ready for an all-out confrontation with Angel.  She knew she was still teetering delicately between guilt, anger, resentment, and relief, and that it wouldn't take much for her to fall completely towards her darker emotions.  <After all,> she reminded herself, recalling Yoda's warning to his apprentice.  <The darker side was quicker, easier...more seductive.>

"You said you'd leave me alone," Willow reminded him in a gruff voice barely loud enough to be heard over the rustling leaves.

"And you said you were going home to sleep in your own bed," he countered, drawing a shrug from the redhead.

"I lied."

"I know.  It wasn't one of your better bluffs, Willow."

Even the poker reference couldn't make Willow look away from the couple below her.  She did, however, inwardly groan at the unwelcome memories his words induced.

"I wasn't try to win anything.  I just wanted to get away," she said truthfully, hoping the vampire could take a hint.

Angel somehow managed not to flinch at the remark.  "From me," he stated, already steeling himself for her answer.

"From both of you, actually.  Not to mention your 'oh by the way, forget everything you ever thought you knew about yourself' speeches."

Angel's eyes fluttered shut, but they couldn't keep out the coldness of her words.  He hadn't heard that tone in her voice for so long...not since his pre-curse mistreatment of her in London.  Since he'd arrived in Sunnydale two years earlier, she'd never used that tone with him...never been so cold.  <But this isn't the same Willow,> he reminded himself.

Angel ran a troubled hand down his face, eyes still closed, wishing he knew the right way to behave in a situation like this.  Unfortunately, as far as he knew, there were no self-help books for vampires with souls, fully illustrated and explaining in detail how he should act around the woman that he'd been obsessed with for more years than he could recall.  Even though his obsession had changed since the years he'd been cursed with his soul, blossoming into something quieter, purer, but no less passionate, when he was near this Willow, he found it hard to know how to behave.  Her seemingly flip-flopping emotions didn't help matters any.

He didn't blame her for being angry.  After all, it wasn't long ago that he'd been belittling Jenny for similar reasons.  And maybe he, like Jenny, didn't fully deserve such harsh treatment, but Angel did understand where Willow's bitterness was coming from.  Finding some solace in this, Angel opened his eyes, fixing the back of her head with a determined gaze.  He wished Willow would look at him, even it was only long enough for him to see if that same iciness was echoed on her face.  But she remained with her back to him, fingers digging into the bark of the gnarled tree, gazing down at the old manor.

"I'm sorry, Willow," he told her honestly.  "We weren't prepared for how different everything would be for you.  I know we didn't handle it very well, and maybe it was all too much for you to hear at one time."

"Maybe?" Willow softly snorted.

"Okay, tonight we made Cordelia look like the queen of tact," he said lightly, hoping to bridge the chasm that was rapidly widening between them.  Willow, however, didn't acknowledge his effort or budge from her voyeuristic spot.

Although reluctant to actually see the old mansion, Angel silently moved to stand beside her and peer down at the sight that was keeping her enraptured.  He was surprised to find that it was actually Spike and Drusilla that had the redhead so transfixed, and that she wasn't just staring down at the mansion in some bout of adolescent-like longing.  And as much as he wanted to see her face, try to read her thoughts about Spike and Drusilla by peering into the sea-green depths of her eyes, Angel instead jumped back a few feet.  He had no desire to see Spike or let Spike see him.

"You shouldn't be here, Willow," he hissed.  "It's too dangerous."

"I'm down wind," Willow informed him matter-of-factly.  "And if you'd keep your voice down, they won't even know I'm here."

"They aren't the only two vampires in Sunnydale," he reminded the stubborn redhead, but she wouldn't budge.

"I know.  I managed to sneak by one on my way here.  But he was young...I would hear him coming in plenty of time to make myself scarce."

For the briefest of moments, Angel felt pride at her ability to avoid the fledgling.  That was until he remembered that this wasn't the Willow that he'd been training.  Everything she'd learned was without his aid, and in spite of it.

"You don't have to worry about that vampire anymore, unless you're allergic to dust.  He was the same one from earlier tonight, so I took care of him," Angel assured her, but Willow quickly brought him back to her reality.

She finally turned and looked him straight in the eye, sharp green piercing fathomless brown.

"I wasn't worried," Willow said coolly.  "And I want to be alone, Angel."

"Why?  So you can go see Spike?" Angel bristled at the thought.  "You *can't* do that."

Willow's eyes narrowed at his dictatorial tone, remembering that in some ways, she belonged to the vampire in front of her.  She drew herself up to her full height, threw her shoulders back, and jutted out her chin.  Maybe he felt like he could boss her around just because of some little blood ritual that he and Spike had forced her to participate in decades earlier, but as far as she was now concerned, soul or no soul, she didn't belong to anyone.  Furthermore, the redhead wasn't about to let him tell her how to lead her life.  She wasn't 17 again, no matter how old she looked.  And if he *dared* to pull any of that vampiric 'you are mine and you'll do what I say' crap, she'd be very tempted to slug him and walk away laughing.  She was just in that kind of mood.

"And why not?" she challenged, daring him with everything from her eyes, to the tightness of her lips and her resolute stance to tell her what she could do.

Angel took a lazy step closer, something deep within him responding as she transformed before his eyes into the incredibly obstinate woman that he knew from his dark past.

"Because," he drawled, calmly this time, "it wouldn't be safe for you to go down there now.  Drusilla--"

"I realize that," she interrupted caustically.  <How stupid do you think I am?> she wanted to shout, but restrained herself.  She just couldn't be sure if he was trying to tell her what to do or simply worried about her.

The silence between them grew as Willow's 'leave me alone, I'm a big girl' vibes clashed bitterly with Angel's 'I'm still older than you, young lady, and I know what's best' attitude.  Eventually, Angel relented.  This wasn't the time or the place for this sort of battle, and guessing from Willow's dour look, he doubted if she'd back down anytime soon.

"Willow, I'm just trying to help.  It's the least I can do, if you'll let me."

The unmistakable sincerity in his voice soothed some of Willow's fears.  It didn't seem as if he was telling her what to do or demanding her acquiescence.  He appeared to merely be concerned for her safety and the pain that he'd caused her.  Unfortunately, while it made her feel somewhat better to know that he cared more about her well being than her obedience, it also set off a few new twinges of guilt, because she knew that he *shouldn't* care.  The old Angel wouldn't have.

"I know you mean well," she sighed, much of her anger escaping with that one breath. "But right now the last thing I want is your help, Angel."  Willow looked away from him before she could see his reaction.  "I don't expect you to understand..." she added, once again turning her attention to Spike and Dru.  "I barely understand it myself."

Neither spoke for a while.  Willow continued to watch the two vampires across the street behaving like teenagers, while Angel watched her, watching them.

"This is where you were heading when we ran into each other in the park earlier tonight, wasn't it?" Angel asked abruptly, breaking the peacefulness that had settled about them.  "You were going to see *him*."

Willow nodded, her eyes still glued to the vampiric couple.  "I just needed to make sure he was okay."

Angel crossed his arms as if trying to hold something in, then glided forward just enough to make out the tops of Spike's and Drusilla's heads.  The soulful vampire just didn't get it.  How could Willow forgive Spike for everything he'd put her through?  Why wasn't she, at this very moment, begging the Slayer to stake his selfish ass?

"He looks fine to me," Angel pointed out in an annoyed tone.  "Yet, I have to wonder why he's not out looking for you, concerned about whether or not you're okay."

The moment the words tripped across his lips, Angel wanted to take them back.  They sounded catty and childish, below a man who'd seen the turn of two centuries, but if Willow had noticed his adolescent slip, she didn't let it show.

"Spike knows I can take care of myself.  Besides, looks like he kinda has his hands full at the moment," she added with a wistful smile.

Still bewildered by her behavior, Angel could only grunt in response.  After a short time, they watched as Spike stopped kissing Drusilla long enough to scoop her into his arms and carry her to the front door of the mansion.  For a moment, the blonde vampire stopped in the doorway and turned to glance up over his shoulder in their general direction.  Without stopping to think, Willow darted back behind the cover of the broad tree trunk.  She didn't like the thought of Spike knowing that she'd been spying on him with Drusilla.  When the amorous vampires were gone from view and the door closed behind them, Willow finally turned to leave.

"Where are you going now?" Angel asked, following the redhead as she easily picked her way back through the overgrown weeds and bushes of the undeveloped lot, away from the mansion.

"Home to my own bed...and hopefully a very long shower."

"You shouldn't be alone, Willow.  Come back to my place."

Willow tried not to snort as the phrase '...said the spider to the fly' came to mind.  "I don't think that would be a good idea."

Angel caught up with her as they finally broke through to the sidewalk, a block away from Crawford Street.  "Why not?" he asked.  Angel figured he already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it.

Willow rolled her eyes, not that the vampire beside her could see it.  "I already told you, Angel.  I--I don't belong there."

"But you belong at home all alone?"  Angel chuckled darkly, not because it was funny but because she'd answered precisely as he'd guessed that she would.  Her anger was gone because she'd already let guilt takes its place, something else to which he could easily relate.

When Willow wouldn't stop to talk to him, Angel spun on his heel to walk backwards a few feet in front of her, forcing her to look at him.  "So is this how you're going to punish yourself?  Cut yourself off from all your friends, spend your days alone, wondering what you could have done differently?  Doesn't sound like much of a life, if you ask me."

"Well, I didn't ask you, did I?  Besides, you don't understand..." Willow muttered grimly, pushing past the dark vampire, but he latched on to her tiny hand and tugged her back around to face him.

"Don't I?"

As Willow looked up into his pale face, now almost luminous beneath the light of the half-moon, Willow knew that Angel understood all about guilt.  His sable eyes were warm, almost pleading with her to let him in, share her fears, but she couldn't.  While their guilty consciences may be able to find momentary solace with one another, she doubted that he truly understood where her guilt was rooted.

"Leave me alone, Angelus," she tried to demand, but it came out more as a plea.

Sensing that maybe he'd gotten through to her, the vampire loosened his grip on her petite hand, allowing her to easily free herself.  But before she could completely escape, Angel stepped back in front of her with predatorial ease, momentarily blocking her retreat.

"I prefer *Angel* now," he reminded her firmly, before stepping out of her way with a quick, playful bow.  "And if you insist on going home, then I'm going to make sure you get there in one piece," he added as she marched past him.  "You're distracted.  Distraction tends to get you dead in Sunnydale."

"Nice to know *some* things don't change," Willow muttered as she stalked off in the general direction of her home, Angel at her heels.

As she walked, Willow tried to ignore the fact that the dark vampire was just behind her, but it was impossible.  Even though he made no sound as he followed, she was, as always, super-aware of his presence.  Doubting he'd leave her be no matter what she said, Willow gave up trying to get rid of him for now and focused instead on quickening her already harried pace towards home.

Unfortunately for Willow, walking meant thinking...the kind of thinking that lead to questions, and soon her desire to be alone was overshadowed by her need for answers.  As she entered a tiny park, the redhead's steps slowed.  Angel moved up, understanding her silent permission for him to walk beside her.

"Oz and I aren't together...we're not a couple or even dating, are we?" she finally asked without looking at him, her unwavering steps not revealing how unsettling the question actually was to her.

"No, Willow," he answered, eyes cemented to the path in front of them so that he wouldn't see the hurt he was causing her.  "You aren't."

"Do we even know each other?" she asked in a quivering voice.  "Are we friends?  I mean, we have to be, don't we?  He saved me from the Order of Taraka...he took a bullet and everything.  That's not something you just ignore, even on the hellmouth, you know?"

Angel lightly grasped Willow's elbow to gently bring them both to a halt.  He slowly turned the redhead to face him, relieved that for once she didn't fight him.  It wasn't until she finally tilted her face up to look at him, her eyes glistening brightly with unshed tears in the soft moonlight, that he spoke.

"You and Oz *are* friends, Willow.  You even take a turn watching him in the basement during full moons.  Anytime we've needed his help we could count on him.  But no...you two aren't...romantically involved," Angel informed her as delicately as he knew how.  Willow listened, or at least she allowed her ears to do their job, but the rest of her was resisting.  "The Writings gave us a heads up on the Order of Taraka," Angel continued, "And we were able to put a stop to it before any shootings occurred."

When he was done, she slid back out of his reach, needing to absorb the new information.  Willow toed at the damp grass, morosely tracing abstract patterns in the dew with her slightly soggy Converse high-tops.  She was beginning to rue the day that she'd begun keeping a journal in the first place.

"No shooting is a good thing, but..." Willow mumbled half-heartedly, "But there was more to our relationship than the fact that he saved my life.  I know there was."

"I'm sure there was, Willow," Angel said sincerely.

Willow didn't wipe away the tears as they swelled.  Instead they trailed down the curve of her lower lashes where Angel watched them cling, momentarily defying the laws of gravity, before finally succumbing to its pull.  The salty drops fell at her feet, adding their wetness to the already glistening grass, only to be swept away as her shoe continued its aimless pursuit of modern art.

"I should have known that I couldn't have it all," Willow finally spoke in a dull tone.  "We saved your soul, countless lives, Spike has Drusilla, Ms. Calendar's alive...everyone seems happy, even you, but...."  Willow stopped herself.  It wasn't that she begrudged any of them their happiness, but it just wasn't enough.  She'd put her own life on hold for more than one lifetime with expectations that one day everything would be just as it had before.  Buffy and Angel were supposed to be together now, as were she and Oz.  But especially, Buffy and Angel....

"So I guess this is my punishment...losing Oz," she sniffed.

"Punishment for what, Willow?"

Willow looked him straight in the eye.  "For messing with things that should have been left alone.  For trying to play God."  <And for allowing myself to come between you and Buffy,> she finally admitted to herself.

At any other time, Angel would have found Willow's over-developed sense of guilt--one that she shared with the previous Willow--endearing, but not now.  He knew this wasn't simply a display of your average, everyday teenage guilt.  This was the kind of guilt that could drag her down with it if she didn't try to resist its weighty pull.

"Aren't you being a little hard on yourself, Willow?  After all, you weren't given much of a choice."

A small, albeit wry, smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.  "Now you sound like him."

"Who?"

"Spike," she informed Angel, adding a quick glance over her shoulder in the general direction of the mansion.  "He used to tell me the same thing...that it wasn't my fault and not to take the weight of the world on my shoulders, etc., etc., etc."  Willow refocused on Angel but was oblivious to how his features had stiffened at the mere mention of Spike's name.  "It was easier to agree with him in the end," she went on to explain.  "It made coping with everything that had happened easier, but now...."  Willow trailed off, wrapping her arms about herself, trying unsuccessfully to ward off her growing guilt.  "I'm so sorry, Angel."

Sensing the even darker turn in her mood, the dark vampire tried a different tactic.  "I thought you weren't going to apologize," he teased, his eyebrows lifting roguishly.

"I'm not apologizing for your soul, Angel," Willow stated in no uncertain terms.  "I just regret that I cost you Buffy."

Angel shook his head lightly as the cause of her current guilt became more obvious.  "I'm not in love with Buffy.  I never have been."

"Yes, you have," she continued, defiant.  "You just don't remember it."

"That wasn't me, remember?  Look, Willow, I like Buffy--"

"You *love* Buffy," she persisted.

"I like Buffy.  She's a nice girl."

"She's beautiful."

"Yes--"

"And she's strong!"

"Yes, Willow."

"And she's smart!"

"She's very...resourceful, but--"

"And she's...er...punctual."

The vampire's only response was a raised eyebrow.

Willow chewed on her lip for a moment as she thought.  "Ooh!  She's blonde!" the redhead eventually exclaimed, prying a groan of disbelief from Angel's lips.

"What?"  Angel found it humorous for about 10 seconds to listen as Willow tried to convince him why he should fall for the Slayer, but his good humor was fading fast.  Buffy was a lot of great things, including undoubtedly being the best Slayer that he'd ever come across.  Yet, it was because of what the blonde girl *wasn't* and never could be that Angel was unable to picture himself ever falling in love with Buffy.

She wasn't Willow.

"You like blondes!" Willow urged, interrupting his thoughts as she grasped at straws.  "Um, Darla was a blonde, remember?"

All traces of the Irish vampire's smile vanished at the mention of his sire.  "I remember."

"And you killed her to save Buffy so you must love her," Willow said with a hint of triumph to her voice.

Angel turned away from the redhead as the memories of Darla's death swarmed back.  "It didn't happen that way, Willow."

"Darla isn't dead?"

"She's dead."

"But if you didn't kill her to save Buffy, how did it happen?"

Not liking the turn in the conversation, Angel spun on her, catching the redhead slightly off guard.

"Why are you changing the subject?"

"I didn't," Willow retorted indignantly.  "The subject was you and Buffy and why you belong together, which was then going to lead to where I thought you should go on your first date, her favorite flowers, and the lost art of serenading...."

"Look, Willow," he began impatiently, ignoring her 'resolve face'.  "I'm not dating Buffy and I don't want to!"

"Yes you do, you're just a little behind--"

"Willow..." Angel interrupted with a disgruntled sigh, but he was at a loss for how to continue.  As nice as it was to see a little of the 'old' Willow back with a certain spark in her eyes, he sorely wished they were talking about anything else.  At least he thought he did, until Willow changed to an even more painful subject.

"How did Darla die?"  Willow suddenly asked without thinking.

Shoving his hands into his pants' pockets, Angel took a step back.  In the blink of an eye, he was reliving the moment again, the very second of his sire's death.  Darla hadn't given him a choice...she was going to kill Willow, and so he'd staked her.  He didn't regret his decision, only that he'd had to decide in the first place.

"I killed her myself," Angel finally answered, unable to keep all traces of anguish from his voice.  "My own sire..."

"If you didn't have to stake her to save Buffy, then why, Angel?" Willow asked softly, sensing his regret.  "I think I know you, or at least parts of you, well enough to know that you wouldn't have killed your sire without a good reason."

"Spike didn't seem to need one."  Angel's lips twisted into a bitter smile as his guilt and resentment threatened to get the better of him.

"We aren't talking about Spike," Willow reminded the dark vampire curtly.

"No, we aren't, are we?" he said with a familiarly dark chuckle that set Willow on edge.  "Which is rather strange since he's the reason this all happened in the first place.  In fact, I think if there is one subject that we should be analyzing to death right now, it *is* Spike," Angel insisted even more loudly, "And why you felt such a desperate need to see him in the middle of the night."

Willow found herself stepping away, his flashes of anger making her increasingly uneasy.

"There's nothing to discuss," she rebuked with a slight tremor to her voice.  "My relationship with Spike is none of your--"

"Don't even think of telling me that it's none of my business, Willow," Angel growled, moving in on the retreating girl.  "When I think of everything you've gone through, all because of his deceit...."

"Angel, I--"

"If this is anyone's business, Willow, it's mine," he snapped, too caught up in his own bitterness to notice Willow's increasing alarm as she backed away from him.  "It's *my* life that Spike decided to toy with..." Angel continued angrily, mirroring her steps.  "He told me nothing but lies...forced you to lie to me as well...."

With each word that Angel spat out, Willow continued her shaky retreat.  Even though she didn't doubt that he had his soul, there seemed to be more Angelus than Angel in him at the moment, and she just wasn't ready to revisit that side of him yet.

"...when I think of how much danger you were in...."

As Willow's need to distance herself from Angel escalated, she turned to run but tripped over an exposed tree root and stumbled ungracefully, but relatively unscathed, to the ground.  Angel stopped his rant.  Only now, as Willow lay sprawled on the damp ground, her breath coming in shallow gasps, did he realize what he'd done.

Immediately his anger at Spike was forgotten and he held out a strong, pale hand to help her up.

"I-I'm sorry, Willow," Angel stammered, upset with himself for letting his baser emotions take control at such a delicate time.  "I didn't mean to frighten you.  I'd never hurt you again, Willow."

Willow looked warily from Angel's outstretched hand to his pained face.  The eyes that were narrowed in blazing anger only seconds before were now wide, softened with regret and caressing her heated face apologetically.

Noting her hesitation, Angel tried to make light of the uncomfortable moment.

"You know, if I were still Angelus, I wouldn't even bother to help you up."

Smirking, Willow ignored Angel's outstretched hand, easily getting to her feet on her own.

"Angelus *would* help me up," she countered grimly, brushing herself off.  "But only after he made me plead for his help or admit that the only reason I had fallen down in the first place was so that I could hold his hand."

Angel lowered his eyes and studied the ground with some interest.  He was both impressed and disgusted at Willow's disclosure.  Impressed because she was right, he probably would have helped her up but only after a concession or two; and disgusted with himself because...well, because she was right.

"You think you understood how Angelus--how I--thought?" Angel asked, only slightly lifting his head to peer sidewise at her in a way that reminded Willow of a 10-year-old boy having been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Understood?  No," Willow replied with an emphatic shaking of her head.  "I only began to know what to expect from him.  I never said I understood him...you...."  After a pointed look at the vampire, Willow started walking toward home again.  Angel soon caught up.

"I keep forgetting that for you it was only a few hours ago that I was chasing you through the woods in Romania with less than noble intentions in mind.  I guess I should be thankful that you haven't staked me on the spot or run away, screaming."

Willow managed a small smile, momentarily easing some of Angel's remorse at how he'd unintentionally terrified her only moments before.

"Well, as far as the staking goes...been there, done that," she said lightly, remembering how she'd staked Spike, thinking he were Angelus.  At the same moment, Angel was recalling how he'd goaded Rose into attempting to stake him while on their carriage ride to London.  "But running away screaming isn't quite my style," she went on to tell him, neither realizing the turn the other's thoughts had taken.  "I tend to either run away quietly or just sit on the floor and cry.  It's my style, and I think I'm quite good at it.  After all, practice makes perfect."

Angel felt her glib words like icy knives slicing through his soul, again the difference between the Willow of the previous two years and this one becoming painfully obvious.  He couldn't recall the other one ever speaking of her own feelings in such a detached manner.  It worried him.  He feared that he'd done some irreparable damage to the redhead, the kind that left no visible scars but rarely healed.

Becoming overwhelmed by his thoughts and desperate to begin mending the impossible situation, Angel stopped.  After a couple more steps, Willow became aware that he was no longer at her side and came to a halt as well.  She turned back to find the vampire regarding her with deep concern.  She could see worry and regret etched on every line of his face, more so than ever before, and for one moment, all she wanted to do was take his pain away.

She took a step toward him and he toward her at the same time.

"I'm not that Angelus anymore, Willow," Angel said in a low, pleading whisper, bringing a lump to Willow's throat.

Seeing no fear in her eyes, only confusion, Angel tentatively reached out to gently brush the back of his hand across the swell of her cheek, longing to feel her silky skin beneath his fingers once again, but Willow somehow found the strength to shy away from his touch.

"Maybe not," she said delicately, not wanting to add to the pain she could already see clouding his eyes.  "But you're not Angel either."  <And it's all my fault...> she added silently, forcing herself to turn and walk away from him, yet again.

In silence, they continued side-by-side along the quiet Sunnydale streets towards Willow's home.  The same thoughts kept eating away at the vampire--what had Willow meant?  How was he different, other than the fact that he wasn't in love with The Slayer?  At the same time, Willow's musings took a more proactive turn--how was she going to get Angel and Buffy together...make things right again?  They were both so caught up in their own deliberations, neither noticed the large vehicle pass on the other side of the road, make a U-turn, and then pull up right along side them.

"Hey," the driver called out to the oblivious pair.

Willow's head jerked up at the familiar voice.  Oz was leaning over the passenger seat of his van and looking out the open window at them.  Her mouth opened but she couldn't seem to speak.

"You two okay?" Oz asked.  "Unless a lot has changed in Sunnydale while I was gone, I expect the sun to come up in about 30 minutes.  I'm thinkin' in the East," he added, straight-faced.

"Hey Oz," Angel responded with a grim twitch of lips that could almost be mistaken for a smile.  "Back from your summer vacation a couple of days early?"

"There's a gig Monday and the guys needed the van, so...."  Oz looked at Willow.  "Hey, Willow."

Willow was aware that she probably looked ridiculous as she gawked at him like some teen-aged groupie, unable to speak.  She finally managed to salvage a small amount of her dignity with a weak nod.

"O--Oz...it's good to see you again," she stammered, fully aware of Angel's eyes upon her, taking in every quiver of her lips as she spoke with her former love.

He smiled in return, and it was the same sweet smile that she'd seen many times before.  She tried to smile back, but it was as if her mouth had forgotten how.  By the time Willow thought she could at least manage to lift the corner of one lip, the boy had turned his attention back to Angel.

"Need a lift?"

Angel glanced at the already-lightening horizon.  They didn't have much farther to go to Willow's home, but considering how distracted they both were, it was probably the safest option.  Besides, Willow looked as if she were about to fall apart at any moment.

"Yeah, a ride would be good.  Thanks."

Angel guided the nearly-catatonic Willow to the passenger side and opened the door for her.  When Willow's ability to move of her own accord seemed to escape her, Angel hesitated for only a moment before nudging her toward the seat next to Oz.  When the skittish girl was finally settled, Angel softly closed her door.  He then opened the back door and climbed in.

"You okay, Willow?" Oz asked after they'd driven a block or so without a word being spoken.  He took his eyes off the road long enough to send the redhead a reassuring smile.  "Hope this doesn't come across as too grandmotherly, but you look as if you've lost your best friend.  Was someone hurt?"

Taking a deep breath, she latched on to her years of 'acting' to get her through the painful moment.  "I'm just tired, Oz.  That's all.  It's been a rough night," she said honestly, again trying her best to flash Oz a friendly smile.

"Must be something pretty hairy.  You both look rattled."

"Just the usual demons," Willow managed in an almost normal voice, drawing a nod of understanding from the driver.  She then added under her breath, "both personal and the other kind."

The three rode on in silence and Willow struggled for something to say.  Unfortunately, anything she could possibly say to him sounded too intimate now.  And after years of learning how to play the guitar so she'd have something else in common with the young musician, Willow's musical knowledge completely escaped her.  Wanting to say something, anything, the redhead voiced the first thing that came to mind that seemed even remotely 'friend-like'.

"You're hair is red.  I always liked it best when it was red."

Oz smiled at her again, and Willow's heart skipped a beat.  This was the smile she'd dreamt about and looked forward to for so long.  Oz's smiles had always seemed to Willow to start in his eyes before working their way down to his quirky lips.  The smile was warm and bright and yet, like everything else Oz did, understated.  This soft grin was more reminiscent of those personal smiles that he'd once seemed to reserve just for her.  Unfortunately, instead of making her feel like the most special girl in the world the way it used to, now his grin only reminded her of how alone she truly was.

"Decided to go low maintenance for the summer," Oz replied in a casual tone, unaware of her anguish.  "This way I didn't have to deal with my parents, my roots, and finding somewhere in Tahoe to chain myself up for three nights all at the same time."

"That was, er, good thinking, Oz," she responded softly, her confidence quickly fading.

Oz glanced at her again, but she'd turned away from him to stare out her window, hoping to avoid any more unhappy reminders of her once-simple life.  Aware that he was missing something, Oz glimpsed questioningly at Angel in the rear view mirror, momentarily forgetting that vampires had no reflection.  After checking the road, he shot a quick glance over his shoulder at Angel.  Not surprisingly, the vampire was completely focused on the redhead, looking much more somber than usual.

Oz refocused on the road, taking the final turn.  It wasn't until the van came to a stop that Willow actually noticed where Oz had taken them.

"This is Angel's place," said Willow in mild surprise.

Oz shrugged.  "I figured for you to be walking around Sunnydale at 5 in the morning your parents must be out of town again.  You usually stay at Buffy's or Angel's place then, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Willow huffed, irritated at everyone's eagerness to take care of her.  "I'm far too weak and helpless to stay on my own for a few nights, right?"

"I didn't mean that--"

"I know, Oz," Willow moaned, regretting her outburst already.  "I'm sorry...Like I said, I'm just tired."  With a last long look at her old boyfriend, Willow opened the door, not waiting for Angel to do it for her, and climbed out.  Angel got out through the side door, closing it behind him.

"Thanks, Oz," Angel said through the open window of the passenger door.

"She okay?"

Angel glanced back at the redhead who was now standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the church.

"I honestly don't know.  It's...."

"One of those weird Hellmouth things that you'll explain to me when I need to know, right?"

"Right," the vampire said, relieved.  "Night," he added, then stepped back onto the curb.  Angel watched the van drive out of sight before he followed Willow up the path.  She hadn't moved from her spot and now seemed to be studying the old steeple of the church.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Angel asked, but Willow wasn't in the mood to discuss architecture.  She was finally gathering the courage to ask what had been on her mind since Jenny and Angel had turned her life upside down.

She fixed the vampire with what she hoped was a determined look, void of the self-pity that her moments with Oz had renewed.

"What kind of relationship did you have with the other me, Angel?"

"Relationship?" he repeated with a mischievous grin, as if he'd never heard the word before.  He'd been wondering when she would get around to asking that particular question.

"Angel...please..." Willow implored, her voice quivering with emotion as she followed him up the steps.

"We're just good friends," he replied genuinely, regretting his momentary teasing of the overwrought woman as he opened the door to let her enter.

Willow stopped just inside the door and turned to face the vampire.

"We're *just* good friends?" Willow repeated bitterly.  "Is that what you said?"

"Yes, Willow.  So you can relax."  Angel was pleasantly surprised to detect a note of disappointment in her voice.  Perhaps she'd actually been hoping for more?  But then a jaded laugh escaped her, echoing brightly in the former church vestibule.

"'We're just friends', he says.  'Relax' he says," Willow muttered to herself as she meandered into the main room.

Angel shut the inner doors behind them.

"Willow, what's wrong?"

She spun on him, weariness making tact a nonexistent trait.  "You and I were *never* friends, Angel.  I wasn't lying when I told Angelus that you barely knew I existed.  In fact, I think I can count on my fingers the amount of times you and I actually spoke.  And it was *always* about Buffy or--or the demon of the week."

Angel shook his head, knowing now that it hadn't been disappointment that he'd heard in Willow's voice moments before, but another dose of bitterness instead.

"You must be exaggerating--"

"No, I'm not!  We weren't friends...we weren't *close*...there were no pizza parties or sleepovers at your place, you and Xander were hardly friends...all he did was call you 'Deadboy' and resent you for being with Buffy.  And as for Cordelia or Giles...."  Willow left the sentence unfinished and plopped down in the nearest chair to rest her head in her hands.  "Angel, everything is wrong here, and you don't even realize it...."

Gradually, the vampire knelt on the floor at her feet, but he didn't dare try to physically comfort her, no matter how badly he wanted to.

"Willow, maybe everything is *different*, but that doesn't mean it's wrong," he said in a gentle but firm voice.

Willow look up at him, her hands falling to her lap, fingers beginning to nervously twisting about each other.

"Maybe," she agreed unconvincingly.  "But I have so many questions...so much I don't know yet.  And, well, I don't know if I want to know, you know?" she asked sheepishly.

"I know," Angel smiled.  For a moment, he was looking at the 17-year-old Willow again.

Willow cocked her head at him, shaking it in wry disbelief.  "I'm glad one of us knows."

"You need to rest," Angel told the weary girl as he stood up.  "Everyone will be here around 10:30 this morning, like usual, so you might want to try to get some sleep."

"Everyone?" Willow repeated, also climbing to her feet.

"Buffy, Xander, Cordelia, Giles, Jenny...the usual.  We train, we research...Xander usually brings the donuts...."

"At least that didn't change."

"And if it helps any, he still calls me Deadboy," he added with a wink, his dark eyes sparkling even in the dimmed library lights.

Before Willow's over-taxed brain could decipher the way he was looking at her, Angel walked to a nearby table and picked up a piece of paper.

"Jenny's gone for the evening.  She'll be back in the morning with Giles," he said aloud after reading the note.  "Which means you can have your pick of rooms to sleep in."

Willow's eyebrows knitted together, her eyes darting nervously to the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

"Angel, I don't want to tell them yet.  I'm not ready.  I can't...."

"I understand," Angel said reassuringly.  "And I'll make sure Jenny knows that's how you feel in the morning.  You can tell Buffy and Xander in your own time.  But Giles...he already has questions."

"I know, and I'll answer them as best I can right now.  I remember at times how much he hated not knowing...exactly what was going on," Willow said, stifling a yawn and glancing again toward the bedrooms.

"Just stay," Angel insisted, noting she was still hesitant.  "You've done it before, Willow.  Even have a favorite room...you helped decorate it."

Willow perked up a little.  "Really?"  She was curious as to how she'd decorate a bedroom when it was in an old church currently owned by a vampire.  She doubted even Martha Stewart would quite know how to handle that decorating dilemma.

She followed Angel down the hall where he opened the second door on the left and reached around to flip on the light switch.

"This is your room, Willow," he said, stepping back.

Willow peeked into the room, first noting the two double beds, dresser, desk...the usual bedroom fare.

"My room?"

"Well, this is the one that you always stay in.  Buffy too, and sometimes Cordelia.  I was thinking of getting bunk beds...or finding a bigger church," he added dryly.

"I don't think that'll be necessary," Willow said softly, taking another look around at the décor.

The walls were painted a pale pink, and the beds dressed with matching pillows and comforters in pink and white checks.  The wooden floors supported a pair of braided rugs, also in shades of pink, with a bit of baby blue and yellow thrown in.  Various pastel throw pillows were scattered about as well.  Even the heavy curtains sported delicate little rosebuds.

"It's so...*pink*," Willow finally commented aloud.

Angel nodded, hiding a smile.  "That's why you like it.  You love pink...at least you used to."

Sensing amusement in his voice, Willow glanced up at him only to find it mirrored in his eyes.  If it weren't for the short hair and paler complexion, Willow would have sworn that he was the living Angelus that she'd met in Galway.  That scoundrel of a man had always been smiling and laughing about the oddest little things, too.

"I-I don't think I can sleep in that," she informed him, thrown off guard by her own mental comparison.  "Um, do you have anything less 'Hello Kitty-ish'?  I mean, it's nice, but I think it will give me nightmares."

Now stifling a chuckle, Angel moved on to the next door down the hall.  When he opened it, all Willow could see was a large, comfortable looking-bed draped in rich, jewel-toned satin.

She glanced at Angel, a blush rising to her cheeks.

"Um...do Giles and, er, Ms. Calendar sleep in this room?"

"They have," Angel replied, guiltily enjoying her embarrassment.

"I'll pass then, thanks...I shouldn't...I mean, I wouldn't...that's their room.  They deserve to have some privacy, something just theirs when they are here.  They're both consenting adults, after all."

Without another word, Angel showed Willow the next room down the hall.  It was decorated in neutral colors, and the beds sported plaid comforters in varying hues of taupe, but Willow figured by the Pamela Anderson posters on the walls, that Xander tended to sleep in this particular room.  Willow sighed.  She wasn't ready to sleep in a room where Pamela Anderson's eyes seemed to watch her every move.

"Don't you have anything in red?" she mumbled without thinking.  But at the sound of Angel's rumbling laughter, Willow's cheeks blushed a bright crimson as it occurred to her exactly what she'd said.

Angel knew he shouldn't laugh, that it would only remind her of their sordid past, but he couldn't seem to help himself. After all, Angelus had said those exact same words to her, once upon a time, but in reference to a dress instead.

Embarrassed and growing more indignant by the second, Willow turned a disgruntled face to the vampire.

"Why are you laughing?" she demanded haughtily.  "Shouldn't you be moping about, slouching in the shadows and brooding?"

"You're allowed to laugh, Willow, even in a church," Angel told her, but did try to wipe the smirk off of his face as best he could.

Willow shook her head in exasperation.  He just didn't get it.

"It's not that," she sighed.  "It's just that Angel...the other Angel...well, he...."

Willow groaned, tuning away from the vampire to stare unseeingly at the Baywatch beauty instead.  How was she supposed to tell him to quit being so damn happy?

"He what, Willow?" Angel gently prodded, all traces of laughter gone now as he took a curious step towards her.

She sighed again, more heavily this time, and turned back to face the vampire only to find him closer now...too close.  She had to step away, finding his nearness made it hard for her to concentrate.

"Y--you aren't the Angel I knew, that's all," she managed with only a slight tremor to her voice.

Angel felt like echoing her sigh but he controlled himself.  He also felt like demanding a detailed description of this 'other Angel', but decided it would have to wait until she was rested.

"No, I guess I'm not," the vampire with a soul conceded.  "Although, you said you barely knew me, er, him, so maybe I was more...like me...than you realize," he suggested rather awkwardly.

Willow shook her head adamantly as she leaned wearily back against the hall wall, closing her eyes in hopes that it would help get her thoughts in order.

"You don't understand.  I can barely remember ever seeing him smile, let alone laugh.  I mean, I'm sure Buffy got to see that side of him, but I never did.  I guess you did though, laugh, with her...or he did, anyway..."  Willow groaned yet again.  She was tired of tripping over pronouns.

Angel frowned.  That didn't sound like him at all.  Granted, he was far from happy-go-lucky, but he thought he did a good job of just...well, just being *himself* when he was around the others.  The behavior she was describing didn't make any sense, and he could only surmise that her discomfort with all of the changes in her life was causing her to exaggerate.

"Look, Willow, you can barely keep your eyes open, let alone think straight.  Get some sleep."

Willow relented.  She doubted she'd be able to muster the energy to walk home at that moment anyway, let alone argue with Angel about her decision.

"Okay," she said, prying open her heavy lids and slowly pushing herself away from the wall.  "I'll sleep in the 'pink' room, but only for tonight," she stressed.  "Tomorrow I'm sleeping at my own house, in my own room."

"One fight at a time, Willow," Angel grinned, leading her back to the pink room.  "If you want to take a shower, you have some overnight things you keep in there," he informed her, gesturing down the hall towards the bathrooms.

"Overnight things?" Willow squeaked, as her thoughts took a more questionable path.  <I showered here...naked...in Angel's house...which was once a church.  Oh yeah...I am so going to hell....>

Seeing the shocked look on her face, Angel hastily added.  "All of you do.  Even Giles.  But not at the same time, of course."

"Oh," she said, relieved.  "That's okay then, I guess..."

Unable to resist trying one last time to make her smile, Angel pointed to the dresser on the far wall, saying, "You'll find your pajamas in the top drawer."  Before Willow could react, he added, "They're *pink*."

Willow groaned and threw herself down on the nearest bed.  She screwed her eyes shut, covering them with her hands.  Maybe it was all just a dream.  A long, confusing, and very pink dream.  Opening her fingers just enough to peek through with one eye, she shut them again tightly when all she could see was the rosy wall beside her bed.

With a melancholy smile, Angel offered a soft "Good night, Willow," before closing the door behind him and leaving her alone.

At the same time the door closed, Willow suddenly bolted upright in bed, the heat rising to her face instantaneously.

"Oh God...he's seen me in my pajamas!"
 

~Chapter Five~

Surprisingly enough, Willow slept very well in the once-Sunday-school room of the converted church.  After having indulged in a quick shower the night before--deciding that the long one she'd been fantasizing about would have to wait until she was in her own home--she'd donned the hot-pink pajamas that she remembered getting for her 17th birthday, still embarrassed at the thought of Angel seeing her in them, and slipped between the soft sheets.  Her last thoughts before drifting off were that there was no way she was going to get any sleep.  Not only had she already been unconscious twice in the previous 24 hours, but the situation was just too odd to allow a good night's rest.  Before she could debate the differences between fainting and actual sleep, she already was.

Willow woke to the sounds of muffled laughter echoing down the hallway.  For a few minutes, she simply stayed snuggled beneath the pile of pink bedclothes that smelled faintly of perfumed fabric softener, listening to their happy tones.  She could easily pick out everyone's voices.  Xander's laughter practically bounded down the hall to her, warm and easy, like a faithful puppy.  Cordelia's came next.  It was impossible not to hear the brunette's voice.  As always, it seemed to be a few decibels louder than the other's, but it was a sound for sore ears, and Willow soon realized she'd actually missed her old grade school nemesis.  And of course there was Buffy's voice.  It bubbled along, squeezing its way under the door as well, melodious and light in its own way, and today incredibly chipper.  Yep, the gang was all there and apparently in quite jaunty moods.

Realizing she couldn't put it off forever and drawing some nerve from her friends' evident happiness, Willow glanced at the alarm clock on the white, wicker bedside table.  It was nearly 11 o'clock.  She was already late.  Reluctantly, the redhead climbed out of the warm bed, grabbed a few toiletries, and--after checking that the coast was clear, no one was in the hallway--sprinted for the bathroom.

Feeling a tad more perky after getting cleaned up, Willow was back in her room.  She'd come across some extra clothes of hers and Buffy's in the dresser, which was good news considering the overalls she'd been wearing the night before now had a big grass stain on the seat.  As her hand fell across one of her old favorites, a downy-feeling fleece set with drawstring shorts and a lightweight sweatshirt, Willow couldn't wait to get into them.  She hadn't worn anything that soft in decades, and the fact that they were a deep wine color as opposed to cutesy pink was a bonus.  After another moment's search she also found a pair of socks.  The final item was her red sneakers, and while they didn't match the rest of her ensemble, she didn't care.

Willow took one last look at herself in the mirror, pausing to tuck a long section of auburn hair behind each ear.  Satisfied that she still looked the same as she had before Spike's forced vacation, Willow finally left the sanctuary of the bedroom.

She practically tiptoed up the hall, hoping to listen to what everyone was talking about first so she could be more prepared.  Unfortunately, the sound of Angel's, Giles', and Jenny's slightly raised voices, along with the familiar scent of fresh-brewed coffee coming from the kitchen behind her, made Willow take a deep breath and stroll into the main room.  The lesser of two evils.

Buffy was sitting on one of the highly polished round tables in the middle of the room, swinging her legs as she spoke with Xander.  He and Cordelia were seated at the table across from Buffy, and a familiar giant-sized box of donuts sat half-empty before them.  Both girls were dressed in workout clothes, sweatpants, thin-strapped tanks and bright white sneakers, while Xander was dressed as...well, as Xander.  Jeans and a T-shirt, partially covered by a particularly loud Hawaiian-print shirt, unbuttoned.  As far as Willow could tell by their attire, everything was business as usual.

Willow remained motionless where she was, just watching her old friends.  She'd waited such a very long time for a scene like this that she simply wanted to savor it, commit the image to memory.  If she had a camera, she'd be snapping picture after picture.  All too soon, however, she was noticed.

"Hey, Willow.  Feeling better?" Buffy called out to her in a bright voice.

After deep breath, Willow took a few more steps into the room.  She tried to come up with something very Willow-like to say, the one phrase that would prove she was still Willow--not that her friends had cause to doubt--but all she could seem to manage was, "Uh-huh."

"You were kinda freaky last night Wills," Xander added, his warm brown eyes quickly exploring her face.  "That must have been some fever you had to make you almost stake Deadboy like that."

"Oh yes, it was high...very, very high..." Willow fibbed, squirming a bit as all eyes in the room focused on her.  She needed to sit, but she wasn't sure where the right place would be in this new situation.  Did the other Willow usually sit at the table or the computer or in one of the reading chairs?

"Maybe you should see a doctor just in case," Buffy said as she scrutinized the fidgety redhead.  "You still look kinda pale."

Realizing she couldn't stand in the middle of the room all day, Willow walked quickly to the wing-backed chair nearest to the group and plopped herself down, opting for comfort.

"No, I'm okay, Buffy.  Really.  Just one of those 24-hour viruses I bet.  I'm fine today.  Really.  I'm hunky-dory, happy as a clam, fit as a fiddle, and all that other stuff..." she trailed off, then ended with a big, bright, and--what she hoped was a still--Willowy smile.

"Well, you almost sound like yourself again, which is a good thing," the Slayer said with only a hint of skepticism to her voice.  She slid off the table to grab the box of donuts away from Xander, who responded with a fake pout. "But when you're sick, it's very important that you have proper nutrition.  So, even though you slept late, we saved you the last jelly."

"Oh, thanks, Buffy," Willow beamed, taking the offered donut.  "That's so sweet...."

"Jelly does fulfill some sort of food group requirement, doesn't it?" Buffy went on to ask with a playful frown.

"The all important sweet and jiggly portion of the food pyramid, I do believe," Xander added, jumping up to snatch the last two chocolate-frosted donuts out of the now almost-empty box.  He handed one to Cordelia with a grin and retook his seat.

"Right...and that's the part that keeps the rest of the pyramid all stuck together..." Buffy concluded with a knowledgeable nod.  "Without it, the food pyramid would probably collapse into a...um..." Buffy's baby blues looked at Willow for help.

"Oh...er...um...rhombus?" Willow offered hopefully.

"Exactly," Buffy said, sliding back onto the table.  "Which, of course, means the end of civilization as we know it...not enough carbs."

Willow found herself genuinely smiling at her friends' antics.  This is what she'd missed--just being with them, talking about nothing and everything all at the same time.  While she and Spike had their own odd-but-fun chemistry when they were together, it wasn't like this.  She needed this.  Fighting back tears of relief at the possibility of having normalcy in her life again, Willow finally took a bite of the sweet breakfast treat.  It was delicious.  Even better than the pizza she'd had the night before...although that may have had something to do with the dinner topic of conversation as well, she concluded.

Buffy watched the redhead closely, who was now intently munching away at the jelly donut.

"You sure you're okay, Willow?" she asked.  "You still seem...well, sort of out of it.  Like you're in another world."

At Buffy's innocent words, Willow panicked, dropping the gooey pastry.  It fell on the floor, jelly side down, with a sticky thud.

"Oooh...I can't believe I did that.  I'm so sorry, Buffy," Willow lamented, stooping down to pick up the ruined donut.  "And after you saved it for me and everything.  What kind of friend am I?"

Buffy kneeled down and wiped up the jam with a napkin, watching her friend's distraught face the whole time.

"Are you sure you're okay?  Because this is hardly the betrayal of the century, Wills."  They stood up, and Buffy squeezed her friend's arm reassuringly before relieving the redhead of the squished donut at which she was now mournfully staring.  "Don't you think you're taking the death of a pastry pretty hard?"

No matter how silly she knew she was being, Willow was barely able to keep the tears from falling.  "I just seem to mess up everything I touch.  I'm a one-woman wrecking crew...that's what I am."

"Jeez, Willow.  Over-dramatic much?" Cordelia interrupted, lifting her eyes heavenward.

Before anyone could respond, Angel strolled in, sipping a mug of warmed cow's blood.  Upon noticing Willow, he stopped before joining the group.  After accidentally frightening her the night before, Angel was going to try to be extra careful today, take things even slower.

"You're awake," he said, purposely repeating his greeting from the previous night.

Willow gulped, hard, as she took in his appearance, positive that everyone in the room must have heard her.  Apparently, Angel was planning on working out as well.  He, too, was wearing blank sweatpants, athletic shoes, and a tank--a tight white tank that clung softly to the hard contours of the vampire's chest, she couldn't help noticing.  Tempted to look away and afraid she'd actually blush, Willow had to force herself to meet his chocolate-brown eyes instead.

"I think I'm still going to have to trust you on that one..." she said, her voice firm.

"How did you sleep?" he asked genuinely, taking a couple of very cautious steps toward the redhead.

"Fine," Willow replied stiffly, causing Buffy to glance suspiciously back and forth between the vampire and her friend.

"No nightmares about being attacked by a large anime kitten then?" Angel teased, the beginnings of a half-smile forming on his lips.

Willow returned his grin.  She just couldn't seem to help it.

"Not that I remember, but you never know.  I've always had peculiar dreams," she joked in return, but the smile quickly faded as details of some of her more colorful dreams about Angelus came to mind.

Angel noticed the rapidly fading sparkle in her eyes and inwardly berated himself for even mentioning nightmares.  After everything she'd been through, he was amazed she could sleep at all.

"We all slept great, too, Deadboy...thanks for asking," Xander piped in but was quickly elbowed in the ribs by Cordelia and on the receiving end of Buffy's patented 'look of death'.

"What?" he mouthed soundlessly to the other girls.

A stifling silence blanketed the room, and Willow began to fidget as Angel's appraisal of her continued.  When she noticed him casually take in what she was wearing, Willow felt the heat rise to her face.

"I-I think I better get dressed," she stammered, stepping behind Buffy and heading for the hall.

"Um, Willow, you *are* dressed," Buffy pointed out.

She looked down at the shorts and sweatshirt she was wearing but continued to make a beeline for the hallway that would take her back to the pink room, being careful to give Angel a wide berth.

"I suddenly feel very underdressed," she muttered, still feeling Angel's eyes on her bare skin.

Not quite aware of what he'd done this time to scare her away, Angel turned to follow.  Jenny, who had witnessed the scene as she came down the hallway, tugged at Angel's arm to stop him.

"Remember," she whispered," Willow's been in Victorian England as well as with the Rom for a very long time...she probably hasn't shown that much leg to a man in decades."

Angel couldn't resist a soft snort.  "But the Rom hardly dressed like nuns, Jenny."  <And I think I know a thing or two about nuns...>

"Rom women may not have been shy about showing off a little cleavage, but legs were a different matter," she hissed reproachfully.  It's going to take some time for her to adjust to *everything*, Angel.  *You* need to give her that time...we all do."

Not paying attention to the private interaction between Angel and the computer science teacher, Buffy followed Willow back to the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

"Okay, Wills," Buffy said firmly, taking a seat cross-legged on the bed across from her.  "What's up?  And I want to hear the truth this time."

Willow sat on the edge of the bed, glancing at her defiant blonde friend through lowered lashes.  She wanted to tell Buffy the truth, just let the whole extraordinary story gush out in one cathartic outpouring of emotion, but Willow just couldn't make herself do it.  Her mouth opened, and just like when she'd tried to talk to Oz, nothing came out.  Not even a nonsensical babble.  It wasn't only the guilt about her sordid relationship with Angelus that was stopping the redhead from revealing her altered past.  That would almost be the easy part.  She simply wasn't ready for all the questions, not from her friends.  She didn't mind it from Giles...that was his job, after all.  Asking questions was like breathing to the librarian--both necessary and involuntary.  But Buffy and Xander?  They were different.  They were her friends...her anchor...her touchstone.  Nevertheless, if she told them everything, first there would be the concern for her safety, then the questions, and then--saving the worst for last--the uncomfortable moments.  She knew they would come--the odd looks when the teenagers thought she didn't notice, whispering behind her back as they tried to decide if she was still the Willow that they'd called their friend.  Willow didn't think she could bear that, not now.  What she needed was stability in her life until she had enough time to come to terms with everything, not to mention make a few changes while she was at it.  One day they would all know, Willow would tell them everything--well, almost everything--but not now.

Resolute in her decision to keep the secret, at least for the time being, Willow could only shrug at her friend's concern and then continue the web of lies.  "Thanks for worrying, Buffy.  I'm okay...just a little out of it still."

"You sure that's it?"

"Yes, why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, you and Angel...you look *uncomfortable* around each other.  Something happen?"

"Happen?" Willow gulped, feeling every inch the 17-year-old virgin.

"You know..." Buffy said knowingly, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow.  "Smoochies?"

"Smoochies?"  Willow paled, jumping off the bed as if it were full of snakes.  "No!  No smoochies!  There was no kissing last night...nope, none at all.  Because what sort of friend would that make me?" she asked, now pacing between the two beds.

"Willow..." Buffy sing-songed, watching curiously as the redhead muttered to herself, "Did you drink a lot of coffee last night?  You're in superbabble mode and making some sense that is not."

"I am?"  Willow stopped her pacing, turning an embarrassed face to her friend.  "Oh, yeah...sorry, Buffy."  Willow flopped back down on the bed, wishing she could pull herself together.  She wasn't sure she'd behaved this immaturely even when she was this immature.  Willow took a deep breath, gathering herself, before sitting back up.  "I'll be fine, Buffy.  I probably just need to eat something more than half a jelly donut."

Buffy fixed her friend with a slightly disappointed look. "So nothing happened last night after you fainted?"

Sensing that The Slayer wasn't going to drop the subject, Willow slipped on her poker face.  Instantaneously, her facial muscles relaxed--the tightness in her lips, the wrinkles of consternation on her forehead, even the 'deer caught in the headlights' look faded, leaving behind a much more relaxed and casual-looking Willow.  Just wearing the familiar mask made Willow feel somewhat better--it was familiar to her, having gotten the cardsharp through some rather sticky moments in her long past.

"No, not really," she responded in a much calmer manner. "They just brought me back here, the three of us talked a little, I ate some pizza...I think they just didn't want me to be alone."

"Huh," Buffy commented, a little deflated.  Then the blonde's face broke into a sly grin.  "But if you could have seen Angel's face last night when you passed out.  He was in full-on worry mode.  Oh, and when Xander rushed to help you, Angel *growled* at him!  I'm sure of it!  And the way he picked you up and cradled you in his arms..."  Buffy said dreamily, "It was so romantic."  Buffy sighed, and Willow began guiltily gnawing on her bottom lip in earnest.

<This is *so* not good.  How could I do this to Buffy?>  Feeling the guilt threatening to mount again and dissolve her poker face, Willow made a vow to herself.  She'd fix it.  She didn't know how, but somehow she'd right every wrong that she'd caused.

"Oh, well.  Sorry, Wills," she said, giving Willow's knee a couple of gentle pats.  "Guess you had to be there...or, um, at least be awake...to appreciate it."

"I guess so," Willow smiled, bringing Buffy to her feet.  "But I'm sure you were mistaken.  Angel and I are...just friends...*good* friends," she stressed, the words sticking in her throat as she repeated Angel's description of their relationship from the night before.

"I guess I could have imagined the whole thing," Buffy said with a feminine shrug.  "After all, I have seen 'Titanic' three times in the past two weeks...that's bound to warp me a little, isn't it?"  Not waiting for Willow to respond, Buffy headed for the door.  "Now come on out and join the researching fun, Willow.  There's a donut out there with your name on it.  Of course, since it landed on the floor it probably also has other things on it that I'd rather not think about..."  Buffy wrinkled her nose.  "We'll get you a new donut."

Grinning from ear-to-ear at her friend's familiar exuberance for the simple things, Willow followed Buffy back into the main room, trying to forget what she was wearing.  After all, it was summer.  Summer in California required shorts.  If she could get accustomed to wearing a corset and multi-layers of clothing in the middle of a European summer, she could readjust to shorts.

Everyone was now gathered in the main room, including Giles and Jenny, who were pouring over Jenny's copy of The Writings.  Xander had an old book opened before him as well, but Willow could have sworn it was upside down.  <Good old Xander> Willow thought.  Out of the corner of her eye, Willow noticed Angel, sitting on the edge of the large mahogany desk, arms crossed over his chest and watching her closely.  Yet again, she couldn't bring herself to look directly at him.  She told herself that in order to successfully get Buffy and Angel together, she'd have to distance herself from the dark vampire.  The thought didn't give her the warm fuzzies she'd expected it to.

Seeing her, Giles set his coffee cup down and met Willow half way.

"Willow...are you all right?" he asked solemnly.

Willow smiled up at that man that had been like a second father to her.  Seeing him now, in all his librarian glory, Willow realized just how much she'd missed him.

"I'm fine, Gi--"

Before she could finish, Giles had pulled her into a fierce hug.  Willow returned his embrace, until she became aware of the odd looks they were receiving from Buffy, Xander and Cordelia.  Sensing his faux pas, Giles quickly ended the hug.

"I'm just glad you're feeling better, Willow.  You...you had us all quite worried last night," he stammered before taking off his glasses to clean the lenses.

"Okay, that's it.  What's going on?" Buffy demanded, looking from Giles, to Willow, to Angel and back again.

Giles slipped his glasses back on, and Willow immediately began to nonchalantly study the tops of her shoes, while Angel just met Buffy's stare, blank-faced.

"Whatever do you mean, Buffy?" Giles asked awkwardly.

"She means the Giles' bear hug," Xander added, getting to his feet.  "Something is most definitely up, because the only time you've ever hugged one of us was after we narrowly averted death."

"Th-that's not true!" Giles defended himself.  "Why, just last week I remember giving you quite a hearty embrace, Xander Harris."

"That's only because some hulk of a vampire threw me across the room and into you," Xander pointed out.  "By the way, did I ever thank you for coming between me and what appeared to be a very hard wall?"

"No, as a matter of fact, you didn't."

"Well then...thanks, G-man."

Giles' smile was awkward but genuine.  "You're quite welcome."

"But Xander's right," Buffy chimed in, ruining the moment.  "You aren't telling us something about Willow.  And we aren't doing a speck of research or lifting a stake until we know what it is!"

Willow felt butterflies take flight in her stomach, although they felt more like a small heard of stampeding buffalo.  Knowing that no amount of staring at her shoes was going to help, Willow abandoned her poker face.  She shot Giles and Jenny pleading looks, willing them with her eyes to keep her secret a little longer.

"It's true," Jenny said, after gifting Willow with a supportive smile.  The raven-haired teacher rose from her seat.  "There's more to Willow's recent illness than we let on."

"No, Ms. Calendar...please...." Willow said softly, drawing serious looks of concern now from all of the teenagers in the room, but Jenny continued.

"Willow was much sicker than we told you.  You see, Willow and I were trying out a new and very powerful protection spell the other night, and it backfired on her."

"My god, Willow.  Are you okay?" Buffy demanded, turning to inspect her friend from top to bottom for any obvious injuries.

"I-I'm fine, Buffy.  Really..." Willow said, thankful for the lie, but also a little embarrassed as all those who didn't know the truth seemed to be scanning her for signs of damage.

"Naturally, we didn't want to worry you until we knew exactly what there was to worry about," Giles added in a rush, continuing Jenny's lie.  "But it appears now that Willow is going to be fine.  She, um, asked us not to tell you because...well, frankly, her spells do have a tendency to go awry, and she was understandably embarrassed."

"Oh, that explains why you were so angry with Ms. Calendar this morning," Cordelia concluded aloud.  "Because she and Willow could have been seriously hurt."

Buffy grinned.  "Old people in love.  It's so cute."

"I--I have no idea what you girls are going on about, Giles stammered.  "Ms. Calendar and I are not fighting."

"Oh, and that's why you yanked your arm away when she tried to touch it a few minutes ago?" Cordy asked in disbelief.

"And why you two have been cooped up in the kitchen, discussing something you didn't want us kiddies to hear about?" Xander teased good-naturedly.  "You know what they say...it could scar us little ones for life to hear the adult influences in our lives arguing like that."

"Exactly.  If you two don't kiss and make up," Buffy chimed in, drawing blushes of embarrassment from both Jenny and Giles, "Xander and I may never be able to have a long-lasting and meaningful relationship...oh, um, with other people, that is," she hastened to add.

"That's right," Xander said, then he lowered his voice a bit and looked around as if he were about to pass on a mysterious bit of information.  "Oh, but do you think you could do the kiss and make up part elsewhere?  Frankly, old people kissing still tends to give me the wiggins."

"That's quite enough on that particular subject, thank you very much," Giles announced, glaring at them all.

"So Willow's going to be fine then?  No sprouting horns, invisibility, or new odd twitches?" Cordelia asked.

"Willow should be fine," the dark-haired Gypsy replied.  "But she did absorb quite a bit of energy, so she may be a little...*off* for a while."

"Off how?" Xander asked after rising from his seat to look more closely at his childhood friend.

"I-I just feel like my brain is all full of cotton or something," Willow said, off the cuff.  "Things are just a little hazy, that's all."

"Well, that explains it," Xander said in a relieved tone.  "Wills, on a weirdness scale of 1 to 10, last night you were Bo Derek."  Willow nodded a little sheepishly.  "Seriously, though, you should have told us the truth.  We wouldn't have given you a hard time about botching another spell."

"*Yes* we would have," Cordelia countered, drawing glares from everyone.  "What?  She needs to be more careful or one of these days she's going to mess up something that can't be fixed!"

"Cordelia..." Buffy started angrily, turning on the cheerleader, but Willow stopped her.

"No, Cordelia's right.  Magick is not something to toy with.  Horrible things can happen...horrible, confusing things that...that can change lives forever, tear friends and lovers apart, and make people behave in ways that they regret...."  Willow stopped herself as she was once again getting some odd looks.  "Oh, but um, mostly just your average horrible things."

She shrugged and added a quirky smile, hoping to cover up her revealing babble.  Daring for the first time to look at Angel since she'd become the hot topic of conversation, Willow found his sable eyes still watching her, as she knew they would be, his pale face devoid of any telling expression.

"Are we done then?" Cordelia asked, once again grabbing everyone's attention.  "I have a cheerleading meeting in a little while.  We're planning a bake sale for the first week of school because we are in desperate need of new pom-poms.  The only ones we have are two years old, and you have *no* idea how hard it is to raise school spirit with limp pom-poms."

"Yes, well, besides the impending doom created by a lack of school spirit," Giles said rather glibly, "I'm just hoping to gather a bit more information on that demon Buffy killed last week by the hospital, but--"

"Well, now that research girl is back in full health, I guess you won't be needing me," Cordelia said happily, jumping up and grabbing her things.  She gave Xander a quick kiss on the cheek and headed for the door.  "Oh, do we Bronze tonight?" she stopped to ask, much to Giles' apparent annoyance.

"I don't see why not," Buffy said, glancing at Xander and Willow for confirmation.  "It's Saturday night, and it's been all quiet on the supernatural front lately.  Besides, I want to celebrate.  I got a B+ on my history test yesterday!  And, even as truly evil as we all know summer school to be, that's a major cause for celebration in my book."

"And we should also celebrate that fact that Willow managed, yet again, not to completely fry her brain," Xander said cheekily, but with such a genuine look of relief on his face that Willow wanted to hug him senseless.  Instead, she smiled at her friend as the familiar group dynamic warmed her right down to her soul, even lulling the herds of buffalo to sleep.

"Great.  Xander, pick me up at 8," Cordelia instructed before sashaying out the door, ponytail bouncing behind her.

"So, are we all excused then?" Xander asked hopefully.

"Do you think you could make a trip to the magick shop first, Xander?" Jenny asked, handing a list to the dark-haired youth.  "We need a few supplies."

Xander grimaced, skimming the odd ingredients written on the paper.  "But that place gives me the willies.  Every time I go in there, I swear all those jars of eyes are staring at me."

"I know that Willow usually handles these things, but she still seems a bit tired to me.  I figured she'd probably like to go home and rest today," Jenny explained, causing Willow to smile in appreciation.  "Just have them put it on my account, as usual."

"Okay, since it's for Wills," Xander agreed with a wink.  He shoved the list into his pocket, another donut into his mouth, and left.

"So, I guess that means I should get to training already," Buffy said, leaving Willow's side to jog over to Angel.  "You ready old man?" she asked the vampire, the familiar phrase setting off a new twinge of guilt in the red-headed time traveler.

Angel smiled at the Slayer's challenge, but his eyes darted to Willow.  He could tell Giles was eager to get Willow alone and barrage her with questions, and he felt he should be there to help.

"Maybe you could start without me, Buffy," Angel suggested.  "I thought I might be able to lend a hand researching today.  I remember reading something--"

"We'll be quite all right, Angel," Giles told him pointedly.  "You go help Buffy train."

"If you're sure..." the vampire hedged, looking at the redhead.

"You belong with Buffy," Willow said matter of factly, voicing her inner turmoil.

Shaking his head and wearing a wry smile for Willow's continued stubbornness, Angel followed the Slayer down the hall and into the basement.  He could stand to release some pent-up frustration anyway.

When they were alone, Giles motioned for Willow to take a seat at the nearest table before sitting directly across from her.  Jenny planted herself at a neighboring table, once again prepared to make notes in her copy of 'The Writings'.

"Willow..." Giles began earnestly.  "I must admit I'm at a loss for words right now."

"Trust me, I know how you feel, Giles," she said, trying to set the librarian at ease.

Giles opened his mouth a few times, unsuccessfully attempting to voice a myriad of things all at one time.  Shaking his head, he once again took off his glasses.  This time he didn't clean them, just gently tapped them on the table in a nervous gesture instead.

"I hope you don't mind, Willow," Jenny intervened, "But I told him pretty much everything you said last night...what we discussed.  I thought that it would be easier on you than having to repeat the whole story over again.  I also told him everything I know about 'The Writings', how they came to be, and my role as their keeper," Jenny added, casting a hopeful look Giles' way, but the Watcher barely looked at her.

"If it were anyone other you and Ms. Calendar relaying this story to me, Willow, I'm not sure I'd believe it.  Time travel has always been thought to be impossible, even in supernatural terms.  Mind you, there have been stories here and there, legends mostly, but no actual proof."  He took a deep breath, regrouping his thoughts.  "As I'm sure you realize, what you appear to have done defies the laws of physics as we know them.  Even with an element of magick to it, you can't ignore the fact that it truly should be impossible."

"I do know that, Giles.  I've given the topic a bit of thought myself over the decades."

"Well, of course you have, Willow.  I didn't mean to imply that you haven't had this same argument with yourself many times, being the intelligent girl...er, *woman*...that you are," Giles sputtered.  "But surely, Willow, you see how dangerous it could be.  The damage you could have done--"

"*Did* do, Giles.  The damage I *did* do.  Remember, this is all new to me," she corrected him, gesturing to the room around her.  "I'm sure Ms. Calendar told you about some of the small differences already."

"Yes, she did mention a few.  This church, for instance.  And, well, I'm very sorry to hear about you and Oz."

Willow could only offer a small smile of appreciation for his awkward sympathy.

"But as for Angel and Buffy being in love," Giles continued, "Well, I must say that I'm quite relieved to find that that has changed.  Such a pairing can only result in heartache all around, Willow.  A relationship between a vampire and a human is impossible at best, but make one of them the Slayer, and well...surely no good can come of it.  Even though Angel does have his soul, I just can't see it working out on a long-term basis.  I'd imagine that Buffy would have found such a difficult relationship quite distracting, and, to be frank, I'm surprised she managed to survive under such strenuous circumstances."

"She did though, Giles," Willow said, trying to stay calm despite a growing desire to tell the librarian off.  "It wasn't always easy for her, but the Buffy in my time was also very strong.  Her relationship with Angel was an important part of that...she found strength in it, and in Angel."

"I realize you haven't had a chance to, well, fully reacquaint yourself with the Buffy in this time line, but I assure you she is a remarkably strong young woman, physically and emotionally."

"I'm sure she is, Giles," Willow conceded.  "And from what I can tell so far, she seems happy...like the Buffy I knew, but that doesn't mean that she wouldn't be happier with Angel."

Giles' eyes narrowed as he carefully considered her words.  "Nevertheless," he said at some length, "considering the life span of even your average human when compared to that of a vampire, I can't see why anyone would put themselves through such obvious torment...let alone a slayer."

"Maybe some people can be satisfied with being happy in the present and not worry about the future?" Willow suggested a bit sadly.  Giles' opinion hadn't really changed much from her own timeline.  Her old Giles had also struggled with many of the same worries about his charge's relationship with Angel, but this version's familiar doom-and-gloom tone hardly helped to cheer up the redhead.  It looked like she couldn't rely on the Watcher's help to reunite the two soulmates.

"Willow, I'm sorry," Giles told the crestfallen girl.  "This is hardly what I had intended to talk to you about, at least not for a while.  As I'm sure you can imagine, I'm a bit flummoxed by it all."  His face brightened, taking on a child-like look of wonder.  "To think that you lived in a different time, and that you were, for all intents and purposes, immortal for over a century!  Oh, the questions I have, Willow.  The questions I have...."

*****

Angel ended up flat on his ass, having been caught in the chest by one of Buffy's flying kicks.

"Ooh, Angel!" Buffy uncharacteristically squeaked in surprise, covering her mouth with her hands.  "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Buffy."  Angel quickly got back onto his feet, embarrassed that he'd been taken down so easily.  "That was a good kick...very well timed."  Angel looked down at his bare chest and thought he could make out the faint imprint of a very dainty Nike.

"It was just a lucky kick, Angel," Buffy stated, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet to keep her muscles warmed up.  "You were distracted and you know it."

"Distracted?  No, you're just stronger than me, Buffy...as a Slayer should be," he added.  He didn't want to feed the Slayer's ego any more at the moment.

Buffy shrugged casually.  "What can I say? Schwarzenegger asked me what my secret was, but I lied...told him that I owe it all to Richard Simmons and 'Sweating *with* the Oldies,'" she joked, waiting for the vampire to get his act together.

Angel held up his hands, palms forward, signaling for Buffy to start again.

"You were thinking about Willow, weren't you?" Buffy asked coyly, jabbing at Angel's face with her left, only to be blocked by a strong forearm.

"Willow?" Angel repeated, now playing the coy one.  "No, I wasn't thinking about Willow," he lied, ducking a left cross to his chin this time.  His mind had wandered, quite a bit, in fact, but he wasn't going to admit it to Willow's best friend...especially since Buffy truly had no idea what had been going on in her friend's life recently...and *not* so recently.

"Why not?  She's cute, don't you think?"  Another left, this time to his gut, again blocked.

Angel smirked.  The conversation sounded oddly familiar.

"Yes, Buffy," he said, trying not to laugh as he aimed his own left at Buffy's jaw, which she sidestepped.  "Willow is cute."

"And smart!"  Left foot to the face, ducked.

"Goes without saying," Angel panted, dodging another kick to his face, then thrusting his right fist at her stomach, only to be blocked again.

"And I saw the way...you held her...last night," the Slayer commented between a series of turning kicks, none of which made significant contact with her sparring partner.

Angel lifted an eyebrow but made no comment, too busy concentrating on Buffy's offensive moves.  And when Buffy executed another flying kick, her leg sailing towards Angel's stomach, he deftly jumped aside, latching on to her ankle as he went.  Buffy became off balance and fell hard on her side.

"Oomph..." she groaned.

"Who was distracted this time, Buffy?" Angel asked, barely able to keep a boasting tone out of his voice.

The Slayer slowly got to her feet, rubbing her throbbing hip, and casting a dark look at the vampire.

"Yeah, yeah...I got the hint, Angel."

"Buffy, you were so busy talking about Willow that you weren't paying attention," Angel lectured, resuming his mentor role.  "And when a slayer gets distracted...."

"...a slayer gets dead.  I know the drill Angel," she sighed, rolling her eyes at the familiar speech.  "You really need a new tagline, Angel.  Maybe it worked for the other slayers you ruled with an iron fist, but it's getting old around here..." she kidded the vampire, tossing him a clean towel.

Angel grabbed the towel in midair.

"As you very well know," he began, wiping the moisture from his face and neck, "You are the only slayer that I've ruled, with an iron fist or otherwise, Buffy.  I kept a low profile around the other slayers before coming to Sunnydale."

"So you've said before," she commented after a few gulps from her water bottle, "But I've never understood why.  You've helped us so much, why didn't you help those that came before me?"

Angel didn't answer right away, instead focusing on an invisible point on the far wall of the basement.  There was no way he could be completely honest with Buffy.  The soulful vampire sincerely doubted that telling her he'd been too afraid to change the timeline and possibly never get the chance to find Rose was quite the answer The Slayer was looking for.  As it was, Giles and the teenagers knew very little about his past.  Sure, they knew the important things...that he'd been sired by Darla in Galway, had in turn sired Drusilla and William.  They all knew the basics about the Gypsy curse and his life since then, but there was so much more that they didn't know.  Even Jenny with assistance from 'The Writings' didn't know everything.  Only he and Willow knew the whole truth.

"Angel?" Buffy prodded softly as a familiar faraway look enveloped Angel's face.

"Maybe I wasn't ready or maybe they didn't need me," Angel finally answered, his eyes still staring ahead, unseeing.  "Contrary to popular belief, not all Slayers come up against The Master or live on the Hellmouth.  Whistler told me you had a hard road ahead of you, and I thought I should help."

"And you did, Angel.  Without you and 'The Writings', I wonder if I would have made it through the past two years."

Angel looked at Buffy, *really* looked at her for a long moment.  Willow was right in everything she'd said about The Slayer, except perhaps for the punctual part.  Buffy was beautiful, cover girl beautiful in fact, incredibly strong and capable, and smart.  Maybe not book smart but clever nevertheless.  She wouldn't have survived this long, even with all of their assistance, otherwise.  Yes, Buffy was all those things that Willow said, and Angel could almost understand how this other version of him could fall in love with her....

Almost.  Because even though Buffy was all of those things, she still wasn't Willow.

Sensing Buffy's growing discomfort with his silence, Angel smiled at his pupil.  "You would have, Buffy.  I have no doubt about that."

"You really think so?" she asked a little wistfully, reminding Angel just how young she really was.

"I *know* so.  Well, as long as you kept in mind that 'When a slayer gets distracted--'"

"And on that overdone note," Buffy interrupted, again rolling her eyes playfully at the nagging vampire, "I think I'm going to hit the showers."  She wrapped the towel around neck before picking up her duffel and heading for the steps.  "Thanks for the workout, Angel.  Oh, and we'll talk more about Willow later...when you're less distracted by my kicking your ancient ass," Buffy added with a mischievous grin, then vaulted up the stairs, taking two at a time.

After he was sure that the Slayer was gone, Angel climbed the steps slowly and then crept down the hall, hoping to hear some of the conversation unseen.  He couldn't always fully make out Willow's responses, but he'd been right in his assumption about Giles.  Willow seemed to be under a constant stream of questions.

"And you say your hair didn't grow that whole time?"  Angel heard Giles ask.

"Nope, not an inch.  Oh, except for when I cut some of it one night as an experiment, but by the next morning, it had grown back to the same length it had been for years."

"Fascinating."

There was a pause, and Angel could picture Giles taking notes, occasionally cleaning his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"And you say you healed rather quickly as well, Willow?"

"Yep.  Most bi--injuries--were gone within 24 hours.  Although one particularly bad one took a day or two longer.  I think it was mainly due to the enormous amount of blood I lost though.  Spike figured that if it wasn't for the spell, I would have died."

"Spike bit you, stealing enough blood to kill you?" Giles' voice grew angry as he read between the lines.

"No!  Not Spike.  It was...another vampire.  I'd been attacked in the park.  Spike...found me and took care of me after."

Willow's defensive reply on Spike's behalf scurried down the hallway to bite at Angel with razor-sharp fangs of regret.  After all, he'd been one who had nearly killed her that night, not some unknown vampire on a binge.  And Spike had saved her.  From him.  And not for the first or last time, either.

Running a tired hand through his slightly damp hair, Angel forced himself to listen further.

"...oh, and I never got sick either," Willow was saying proudly.  "Didn't have so much as a head cold the whole time I was gone."

"Did you still have to eat?"

"Yep.  I would get really grumpy and tired if I didn't eat, just like usual."

"Absolutely fascinating."

There seemed to be a pause in the conversation, and Angel was just about to make himself known, when Giles' next question riveted the vampire in place.

"Willow, did...did he hurt you?"

There was a pause, and Angel found himself unnecessarily holding his breath.  He wanted to hear her answer, hoping that it would reveal if there was even a hope of Willow ever really forgiving him for what he'd done when he was soulless.  He soundlessly took a few more steps down the hall until he could just see the three of them in the library.

"Um, to which *he* are you referring?" Willow asked, her bright green eyes falling to study her twiddling fingers, twisting her silver ring now and then.

From where Angel stood, he could see Giles blanch visibly.  Obviously, the librarian had been so focused on the fact that Spike was the one that had initiated the kidnapping and the spell, he'd momentarily forgotten about Angelus, The Scourge of Europe.  Oddly enough, Angel had naturally assumed that he was the one Giles was referring to, not Spike.

Seeing Giles' distress, Willow grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly.  "Giles, I'm fine.  No permanent damage.  Not physically anyway.  I admit that this is all new to me, but I'm going to be okay."

"Spike and...well and...Angelus didn't, um...." Giles blushed, unable to find the right words on such a delicate subject.

"They didn't take advantage of me, if that's what you're asking.  The spell that Spike used required a virgin, and luckily I had to stay that way.  Not that Spike would have...I mean, he was a perfect gentleman, for a demon.  And Angelus..." Willow paused, not sure how much the mild-mannered librarian *really* knew about Angel before he was cursed with his soul.

From his hiding place, Angel strained to listen even more closely.

"Well...Angelus didn't want to ruin the spell either.  Frankly, from what I could tell, taking a woman against her will wasn't his style..."  Willow looked anywhere but at Giles.  "Killing yes, but not raping.  And I doubt that he'd ever need to anyway," she mumbled under her breath.  Giles and Angel didn't catch her more personal comments, but Jenny did, her dark eyes widening in wonder.

"I'm glad to hear that, Willow," the librarian said, taking off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose a few times.  "Very relieved, in fact."

Sliding his glasses back on, Giles quickly changed the subject.  He began asking more questions about the quirks of time travel, as well as details on Willow's unsuccessful encounters with the Watchers Council.  He seemed determined to write a memo to someone about her horrible treatment, but he just didn't quite know how to go about it.

Angel couldn't seem to force himself to make his presence known.  He still had a myriad of questions and doubts, and with Willow still reluctant to talk about her true feelings with him, Angel felt this might be the only way he could get any insight into his Willow.

Before long, the conversation turned more serious again.

Giles was on his feet now, pacing in front of the bookshelves.  "Perhaps now that all the prophecies in 'The Writings' have come to pass and we are no longer warned against harming Spike--"

"The prophecies actually warned you not to hurt Spike?"  Willow interrupted, having already wondered how the previous version of Spike had managed not to get himself staked.

"Oh, yes.  There were strict warnings about Spike, AKA William the Bloody, even before he and Drusilla arrived in Sunnydale.  Dire consequences would befall us if he were to come to any harm, and so on.  We were always rather curious as to why...assuming that he was to be a necessary component in defeating some future evil, despite the fact that he was...is...well, evil.  But now...now it's all beginning to make sense."

"Obviously, the warnings in 'The Writings' were just to make sure that our Spike didn't get dusted before your spell with the original Spike was completed," Jenny said, filling in the blanks.

"Of course," Giles said, finally looking at Jenny, although still rather coldly.  From his attitude, Willow assumed he was still upset with the teacher for withholding so much vital information from him.  Giles continued, "Who knows how that may have affected you and the spell, Willow.  I'm quite grateful that we managed to restrain ourselves in this matter."

Willow found herself grinning wickedly.  "Your Spike gave you a bit of a hard time, did he?  Because believe me when I tell you that our Spike wasn't a cup of tea either.  He made Buffy's life quite difficult...until that church fell on him and confined him to a wheelchair for a while..." she continued, her smiling quickly draining away as she thought about Spike's grievous injury.

"Wheelchair?" the librarian asked, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.  When Willow nodded, Giles could only shake his head.  "Perhaps some time you and I should sit down and discuss Spike's behavior in your timeline so we can compare it to mine.  Since you said that Spike--our Spike--was told all about the spell by, well, by *your* Spike, for all we know he was more cautious, knowing what was at stake...so to speak.  I'd be fascinated to see if that's true."

"Sure, Giles," Willow said with a little bounce in her seat.  "That sounds like fun."

"Well, I don't know how much *fun* it would be, but I'm sure we'd find it quite revealing."

Willow wiped the eager grin off of her face.  She couldn't help it.  The thought of comparing her Spike with the 'newer and now nonexistent version' was very intriguing.

"Now, as I was saying," the librarian began again in earnest, "We should consider dispatching Spike as soon as possible.  And Drusilla as well, of course."

"No!" Willow exclaimed, bolting upright in her seat and casting alarmed looks at both Jenny and Giles.  "You can't stake Spike!  No!"

"And why not, Willow?" Giles asked, abruptly coming to a stop next to her chair.  "He's obviously a danger.  And after what he's done...."

Willow laughed at this, which only made Giles' frown deepen.  "He's not dangerous, Giles.  He's...he's Spike!"

"You have to look at this reasonably, Willow," Giles continued unabated, his hazel eyes taking on a more ominous glint with each word.  "He's a known killer.  Besides, what's to stop him from doing the same spell again, and with who knows what results next time?  And since we must take into account that Spike lives on human blood, I can't really pretend to see the point in even discussing this."

"You're talking about him as if he were an animal, Giles," Willow protested, her fingernails digging into the lustrous tabletop.  "He's a man--"

"He's a vampire...a *demon*, Willow," Giles corrected.

Willow closed her eyes and pictured her calming place.  "He's. My. *Friend*, Giles," she said slowly and distinctly, her lids still closed so she could keep a level head.

Giles let out a frustrated breath, forcing Willow to open her eyes and fix the librarian with her most resolved face ever.

"And I trust him with my life...*still*," she added willfully.  But Giles was being especially stubborn.

"Willow, Jenny told me that you think of him as your friend.  In fact, I'd rather hoped that she'd been mistaken about that part, but obviously she wasn't.  Nevertheless, the fact is, Spike is a vampire, Willow.  A demon.  In order to survive, he must feed on the blood of others."

"But--"

"No buts, Willow!" Giles said brusquely, obviously frustrated by the whole conversation.  "Did you ever stop to think what he might do to you now that the spell is complete?" he demanded of the redhead.  "What if everything between Spike and Drusilla isn't how he'd hoped?  It's quite feasible that he would take revenge on you for that failure, perhaps even try to repeat the spell."  Giles paused to compose himself before going on.  "I'm sorry, Willow.  I know you *think* you care about him, but--"

Before the librarian had even noticed her move, Willow was directly in front of him, anger making her emerald eyes impossibly dark.  She'd heard enough.

"Don't tell me what I do or don't think, and do not treat me like a child, Rupert," she barked, now almost nose-to-nose with the librarian.

I'm old enough to be your great, great grandmother, and I won't let you talk to me like I am still 17!"  She took a step back, a little surprised at her own behavior, but the more she thought about Giles' attitude, the angrier she became.  "No...you're not even talking to me like I'm 17.  You're talking to me as if I'm six years old and asking permission to keep a pet rattlesnake in my bed!"

Giles appeared flabbergasted at her behavior, to say the least, and took a seat in the nearest chair.  Suddenly feeling a wee bit guilty for yelling at a man for whom she had nothing but the utmost respect, Willow reached out to take his shaky hand in hers and kneeled at his feet.  She smiled up at him fondly, trying to convey her appreciation for his concern.

"Giles, I know you mean well, but *please*...just listen to me for a moment."  She waited for Giles to show some sign that he would try.  When she noted a slight nodding of his graying head, she continued.  "I know him, Giles.  I *know* Spike.  He won't hurt me, and he'd never do that spell again.  Trust me, he's learned his lesson.  And yes, he's a vampire, but he's not the vampire you know.  He isn't the 'William the Bloody' that you've read about in your journals...he's not the Spike that I assume you've been fighting for the past year or so.  That Spike is gone, for good.  Just like the Willow that sat at this table last week with you is also gone for good."

"Willow," the librarian began ruefully, getting back to his feet and helping Willow to hers.  "I-I do apologize.  It's going to take me some time to adjust to the idea that you are...well, more than you appear.  And if that also means that I need to keep in mind that you aren't...and Spike isn't..." he trailed off, utterly confused now.

"You *are* right, Giles..." Angel said, finally making himself known to the group, sauntering into the room with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.  "...Buffy will be out any minute," he reminded them before continuing on his original train of thought.  "Make no mistake about it, this Spike is every bit as dangerous, if not more so, than the one that that came before him, Giles."

"Angel!"

"It's true, Willow," he said sharply.  "Spike can not be trusted.  And whether or not he is 'my' William, he is Angelus's childe.  He's vicious, selfish, conniving, self-serving, sadistic...and on top of all that, he's also a vampire.  Not exactly trustworthy friend material."

"Well, thank you for your rather strong opinion on the matter, Angel," the Watcher said, the color beginning to come back to his face.  "I'm glad to see I wasn't completely off base.  I was beginning to think I'd lost my touch."

"But you are!" Willow snapped at them both, causing Giles' eyes to grow wide.  "Oh, you are *off base*, I mean, Giles.  Not the 'losing your touch' part," she added with a sheepish smile, receiving a grateful one in return from the librarian.  "Spike has been and still can be all of those things you said," Willow continued in a much calmer manner, "But he can also be the exact opposite as well."

Giles took several deep breaths as he walked around the tables a few times.  He glanced from Willow's pleading face, to Angel's uncharacteristically cold one and lastly at Jenny, who was sitting quietly, letting Giles do his job, jotting down the occasional note, and glancing between Willow and Angel.  After a moment, he stopped in front of the girl he'd grown to love as a daughter, who was now old enough to have been his great grandmother.

"Willow, can you assure me that Spike will never kill again?  That he's rehabilitated now and will be relatively harmless, like Angel?"

At the slight cough that came from the dark vampire, Giles quickly added, "As usual, no offense meant, Angel."

"None taken, as usual," he replied, but without the usual amusement that the often uttered phrase carried with it.

"No..." Willow sighed, shaking her head wearily.  "That's not what I'm saying."

"What are you saying then, Willow?"

"I'm guess I'm just asking for time.  Spike was always planning on leaving Sunnydale soon after we got back...after he made sure I was okay and that Angel was...Angel and not Angelus.  So, I'm asking that we let him do that.  Let Spike and Drusilla leave town.  He's already promised me before we left that he wouldn't hurt any of you, and he won't."

Giles shook his head.  "That's quite unorthodox, Willow."

"Please, just think about it, okay?  Just give me some time.  I'll talk to him as soon as I can...explain things..."

"Absolutely not!" Giles uncharacteristically snapped.  "You will go nowhere near that-that poor excuse for an Englishman.  I...well, I forbid it!"

<Oh lord, Giles.  Now you've done it...> Angel couldn't help thinking, waiting for the fireworks to begin.

Willow stood straighter, all traces of weariness gone as she stared the librarian down.

"You what?" she repeated with more than a hint of disbelief in her voice.

"You heard me, Willow," Giles insisted, now tugging uncomfortably at the suddenly tight-feeling collar of his button-down shirt.  "I...well, I forbid it."

"You forbid Willow to what, Giles?" Buffy asked, suddenly appearing in the room.  She'd changed out of her workout clothes and had a new towel around her neck, occasionally using it to rub at her damp hair.

Giles visibly deflated.  "Oh, well, I forbid Willow to...er, to cast another spell," he lied to his Slayer.

"You can't do that, Giles!" Buffy protested.

"No, you can't!"  Willow agreed, happy that Buffy was on her side, even if they were arguing two completely different things.

"Giles, you need to trust me," Willow added, almost feeling sorry for the Watcher.  "I know what I'm doing.  And I wouldn't do anything to put others in danger.  Just give me some time, okay?  Promise me?  Please?"

Giles, apparently coming to the conclusion that he wasn't going to get anywhere on this subject at that moment, shook his head in resignation, holding up both hands in surrender.

"Fine...I'll put my plans on hold...for now, I promise.  I won't destroy...any of your...witch things...until we can look further into what has happened to you."

As he spoke, Willow nodded her head, hoping that she understood his flimsy double meaning correctly.

"That seems fair," she said cautiously, casting a suspicious eye between the other adults in the room.  "Now, I think I'm going to head home and get some more rest..."  Without going to collect her things or even a goodbye for those in the room, Willow turned on her heel and headed for the door.  Angel, still convinced that he was doing what was best for Willow, could only watch her leave.

"Ooh, wait up.  I'll go with you, Wills," Buffy said, grabbing her bag to follow.

As soon as both girls were out of the building, an exhausted Giles turned to Angel.

"What do you *really* think, Angel?  Will he hurt her?"

Angel sat down in the nearest chair and put his head in his hands, his fingers digging into his scalp as he tried to figure out what had just happened.  He just didn't understand her, no matter how hard he tried.  And the only explanations he could come up with for why Willow was so obsessed with Spike and defending him so vehemently, were reasons that he preferred not thinking about.  Blocking out the appalling possibilities, Angel finally looked over at the Watcher, who appeared to have aged considerably over the past couple of hours.

"I don't know about physically, Giles," Angel answered honestly.  "But he loves to play games.  Who knows what he has planned for her next?  He may not harm her, but I have no doubt he'll hurt her...again.  I have no doubt about that whatsoever"

Giles set his glasses on the nearest table, sat down on the couch, resting his head against the high, leather back, and rubbed his face wearily.

"I promised Willow I'd give her time, and I will.  But if he so much as touches a hair on her head, or any of us, for that matter, I won't hesitate to do what is necessary.  We have the rest of the townspeople to think about as well."

Angel grunted in agreement as he stood up.

"I'll be in my room," he told them gravely, his own voice showing signs of exhaustion.

Jenny, who had sat quietly absorbing it all, waited for Giles to be preoccupied by his research before heading for Willow's house a short time later.

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