Title: Nothing Special
Author: Medea
Email: medealives@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: General Season 7 BtVS and Season 4 Angel. This is a sequel to 'Rematch', but there are no spoilers for specific episodes. Just a mild attempt at light-hearted humor, although I'm still learning. Just my luck, it probably turned into angst...
Archive: Please do.
Disclaimer: All BtVS and AtS characters belong to Joss Whedon and crew. I'm just taking them for a spin. Also, I came across the idea about telling time in Coquette's wonderful story, 'A Winter's Tale', which you can read here: http://lavraiecoquette.tripod.com/awtcontents.html
Feedback: Please, although your tact and diplomacy will be greatly appreciated.
Summary: Willow and Angel have a friendly evening doing nothing special and sharing thoughts on how to cope with darkness.

7:00 am

Willow turned on the water in the shower and adjusted it to a soothingly hot temperature. She was glad that the potentials tended to sleep late. This was one of the few times she didn't actually have to fight for the bathroom. After a few luxurious moments beneath the spray she reached for the shampoo.

The bottle was empty.

Willow sighed.

7:30 am

Willow stood before the kitchen cupboards holding the doors open wide. She frowned in dismay at the bare shelves, then glanced at the small mountain of empty cereal boxes clustered at the base of the garbage can. Even without the threat of the First Evil looming over them any more, the potentials still trained hard...and ate hard.

Resigned, Willow grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter, went out to sit on the back porch, and took a bite.

She enjoyed her breakfast as the newly risen sun slowly warmed the cool morning air.

11:15 am

Willow typed an e-mail to Althanea, letting the coven know how things were settling down now that the First had been contained...well, for the time being. Her brow furrowed as she tried to block out the sound of the stereo, the microwave, the blender, and two hair dryers going at once.

There was a sudden, sharp *pop* followed by silence as all the appliances went dead.

"So-o-o-o-rrrr-yyyyy!"

"Can somebody get the fuse box?"

"I got it last time."

Willow slumped back in her seat and stared at the ceiling, shaking her head slightly and trying to keep from laughing.

2:20 pm

Willow's eyes widened in horror.

She stalked over to the window.

"Uh, guys? Could we please not use the DeFabrica Grimoire to prop open the window?"

4:05 pm

Willow grabbed the remote control and settled in on the couch. She relaxed against the overstuffed cushions, only to let out a startled yelp and leap to her feet when a sharp pain stabbed her butt.

Her hand fished beneath the cushions and pulled out a crossbow.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Willow carried it over to the weapons chest and put it back where it belonged.

8:45 pm

"You sure you don't want to come?" Buffy asked, ignoring the raucous, impatient shouts from the car.

"Thanks, I'm good," Willow assured her. "I think I just need a night in. I mean, we stopped the First, but everything else just seems like it's still going non-stop. Besides, there's a pint of Ben & Jerry's in the freezer with my name on it. I think that's about my speed right now."

Outside, a car horn honked repeatedly.

Buffy rolled her eyes and smiled. "What? And pass up an evening of hyper-energized teenage potential Slayers out on the town? Oh, sure, be all sane and rational on me." The car horn interrupted with an impatient, sustained honk. Buffy whimpered and looked at Willow like a prisoner hoping for a stay of execution. "We were never that bad, were we?"

Willow grinned back at her. "Go. Have fun. You've earned it."

9:30 pm

Willow set aside her spoon and pint of Cherry Garcia to answer the ringing phone.

A grin blossomed across her face.

"Hi, Angel! How are things in L.A.?"

9:50 pm

Angel had barely set the phone down when he felt the air in the lobby stir. He stepped out from behind the counter of the office to greet his friend, who materialized amid a small tempest.

Willow surveyed the lobby, one eyebrow arched in admiration.

"This place cleans up pretty well after a good ol' knock-down, drag-'em-out fight," she observed, nodding slowly. "You even fixed the column."

Angel drew up beside her to join her in admiring the repair job, his arms folded across his chest. "Fred has been experimenting with polymers. She felt like a change from trans-dimensional physics."

They stood and perused the seemingly flawless column in silence for a moment more. Then, Willow turned to Angel and said with a smile, "It's good to see you, Angel." She gave him a quick hug and added, "Especially since it means that neither of us let the world end."

Angel returned the hug with a light squeeze, then stepped back. "Thanks for coming. I'm just not much for long phone calls."

Willow nodded in agreement. "Phone bills can be pretty evil."

Hands shoved in his pockets, Angel's face clouded for a moment as he admitted, "It was never something I learned. For most of the century since the telephone was invented, I didn't have anyone to talk to."

Willow winced at the reminder that Angel had spent a century in near solitude, prevented from seeking companionship by guilt and remorse, but she figured it wouldn't do either of them any good to dwell on it. Instead, she flashed him a relaxed smile and said, "Well, it just so happens that I was in the mood for a nice, quiet evening doing nothing but talking to a friend." Her smile faltered as she sighed wearily, "One friend at a time, without a million and one distractions."

"No peace after the near apocalypse?" Angel guessed with a knowing smile.

Fixing him with a stern, unwavering gaze, Willow asked, "Angel, do you know what it's like living in close quarters with half a dozen teenage potential Slayers?"

Angel met her gaze with equally intense eyes and answered ominously, "No, but when I was still alive, I had sisters."

Neither of them was able to maintain a straight face as smirks twitched at their lips.

The next hour found them easing through the streets of Los Angeles in Angel's convertible, comparing notes about the personal and emotional wreckage that had been left in the wake of recent battles with the forces of evil. Eventually, Angel parked near the Santa Monica pier and he and Willow continued their leisurely conversation as they walked out toward the shore.

Although the night air had cooled the sand, Willow discarded her shoes and indulged in the simple pleasure of feeling the earth beneath her feet.

"In a way, it's almost worse now that everything has quieted down," Willow confessed, her gaze drifting between the starlit sky and the dark, fathomless depths of the ocean. "When I used magic in our fight against the First, it was because I had no choice. I *wouldn't* let myself worry about what could go wrong because people needed me. But now that we're out of danger, I'm afraid to relax. The one time I let down my guard, let myself forget all the pain and have just one moment of happiness, I turned into a psycho killer."

"Huh," Angel grunted with a perplexed frown. He gave Willow a sidelong glance. "You haven't tangled with any gypsies lately, have you?"

Willow released a curt, rueful sigh at the ironic similarities in their situations. "No, it was Amy, another witch. She resented the fact that in spite of all the damage I'd done, my friends forgave me. So she put a hex on me."

Angel shook his head sadly. "And the cycle continues."

They walked in silence for a few more paces before Willow prompted, "Plan to share any time soon?"

"Sorry," Angel apologized. "It's just..." He paused and Willow slowed to a stop beside him. "The work won't ever be finished. The potential for evil is everywhere, in everyone, because everyone is wrapped up in their own pain. People think evil is an all-powerful enemy, a foe that can be defeated in the ultimate battle; the truth is that evil's real strength is its ability to survive in even the tiniest, petty parts of our lives. All it would take to change that would be for people to be willing to forgive or to make amends; but pride is an addiction."

Willow regarded him thoughtfully and sat down on the sand. Angel joined her.

"That's how it started with me," Willow agreed. "Pride. I thought I was such hot stuff because I'd brought Buffy back." Absently, one hand skimmed across the sand. She scooped a small mound into her hand, held it up, and watched as the grains slowly trickled down from her cupped palm. "I held the power of life and death in my hands; nobody could touch me."

An ocean breeze brushed against their cheeks. The salt smell summoned an array of memories for Angel, everything from his youth in Galway, when nights of drunken debauchery had let him believe he was free, to the slow torture of his imprisonment beneath the sea. He rested his elbows on bent knees and watched the waves roll in.

"It's intoxicating to discover you have that much power," Angel said at last, nodding slowly. "Knowing that you can bring someone back from death just as easily as you can kill, it's easy to start seeing everyone else as...nothing; pathetic creatures whose fates are decided by your will."

Willow poked at the sand for a while, alternately smoothing it with her palm and tracing random designs with her fingertip. After a few minutes, she asked, "Angel...how do you get past it? I mean, once people have seen exactly what you're capable of...can you ever get to the point where it's not this big, unspoken thing that comes between you? I know Buffy and Xander have forgiven me, but..."

She trailed off, unable to find exactly the right words.

"Sometimes they still seem like they're not sure about you?" Angel finished for her.

"Yeah," Willow acknowledged with a wistful half-smile.

Angel offered her a look of warmth and sadness. His eyes mirrored her frustration, yet the emotion was shaded with the quiet resignation of many a century's worth of experience.

"I don't really know what to tell you," Angel said, turning his gaze back to the ocean. "In my experience, things can't ever go back to the way they were, but I'm probably not a good basis for comparison. I have my soul, but I'll still never be the *man* I was. My friends from life are long dead and so are most of the people I wronged. Cordelia, Wesley, Fred, Gunn, Lorne...they're the closest chance I've had to start over, but even when things are 'normal', they can still look at me and see 'the Curse'. Don't get me started on Cordy and her 'eunuch' comments."

The laughter blurted out before Willow could stop it. She kicked herself mentally for her inappropriate reaction -- Angel had been on a profound groove there. But she couldn't help herself.

Angel scowled peevishly. "It's not funny," he protested. "I am *not* defined by my...I mean, I'm more than my...curse."

Willow stifled another giggle as Angel swore under his breath.

"I'm sorry, Angel," Willow apologized, gasping back her mirth. "It's just, well...it's so Cordelia."

Angel's frown slowly faded as he sighed, "For a while, I thought I knew her."

Willow recognized the lingering traces of regret in his expression and diplomatically chose not to press for details. She and Angel were only just starting to become friends. As much as she never would have pictured them having a heart-to-heart talk about anything other than Buffy back when she'd first met him, Willow knew that it was early days yet. They were forging something special, but it was too early for her to be prying into any part of Angel's personal life that he didn't volunteer.

"I know what you mean about not wanting to be defined by something you can't change," Willow ventured evenly. She leaned forward, resting her chin atop her knees and murmured, "I used to be just me, Willow...and that could mean anything. Then I started learning a few spells, and after a while I was either a joke -- 'run for your life, Willow's going to mess up another spell!' -- or everyone acted like they were afraid to trust me -- 'run for your life, Willow's doing a spell and she'll kill us all'. Even Xander. He knows me better than anyone. Sometimes I think he has more faith in me than I have in myself. But the magic still comes between us. It's small, but there's this...wall...that leaves us both on the outside. It's like he doesn't feel special because I have this power and he doesn't."

Angel turned his head toward her, regarding her silently until she met his gaze.

With a depth of compassion that some might have seen as incongruous in a vampire, Angel said, "Willow, deep down, they still see *you*. Everyone changes. You're not who you were seven years ago. And change can put a strain on relationships, even the ones you thought were the strongest. But part of what friends do is see the best in you, in spite of all the changes, and even if they've seen you at your worst."

Willow closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. When she opened her eyes again, they glimmered brightly. In a quivering voice, she murmured, "Thanks, Angel. Deep down, I know they care for me as much as I care for them. I guess I still need to hear it every now and then."

Angel nodded in understanding, then cast his gaze out toward the ocean, letting Willow regain her composure. The eternal crash and pull of the waves drew him in, mesmerizing him with its constant dance of thundering force and gentle retreat.

"Most people don't have to struggle with a demon every moment of their existence, so it's easy for them to forget," he observed. "They don't realize how much work it can be just to stay in control. But keep at it, Willow. It's worth it. If you need to, you can always call me."

Willow's expression softened with gratitude. "I just might take you up on that."

They lapsed into silence. Willow basked in the stillness of Angel's presence, so welcome after weeks on end with the potentials. She might attribute part of the sense of well-being she had, sitting beside him, to the fact that his soul had passed through her. If she tried, she could feel it radiating from him. But it was more than that. In the brief moments that she'd held his soul, she'd discovered how fragile it was. That had come as a surprise. She'd always seen Angel as strong, almost invincible, even. He'd seemed so resilient, taking a severe beating from ordinary demons and even the Hellmouth itself, only to reappear a few nights later without a scratch. Yet there was no mistaking what she'd felt: his soul was imprinted with all the stresses and strains and fractures left behind by the trials he'd faced. He was still strong; like the column in the hotel lobby, he'd managed to patch himself up. But he wasn't immune to the pains that troubled each and every soul...that troubled her own soul. Willow found that oddly comforting. Knowing that even Angel, who was so timeless and confident, harbored the same strains and weaknesses that she did made her feel that maybe she wasn't so weak after all.

Angel, likewise, felt more relaxed and at ease than he had in a long time. Ever since he'd first been cursed with his soul, he'd resigned himself to being an outcast, alienated from his own kind yet never fully at home with humans. He'd never imagined that there would ever be someone who could understand what existence was like for him. But here was Willow, who faced the same struggle now. She'd been touched by darkness and would spend the rest of her days reconciling herself with it. There were things she knew at a primal level, without needing him to explain it. It was...nice.

Time lost its meaning as they sat in silence, listening to the steady hush of the sea. Willow burrowed her feet in the sand, enjoying the soft, grainy scratch of it between her toes. She scooped up a handful and slowly let it trickle through her fingers, remembering her summer with Giles in England, not even a year ago, when she'd gradually regained control of her magic and practiced by coaxing flowers up from the earth.

She sighed. So much had changed...

At last, Willow said, "It's probably late. I should be getting back."

Angel glanced up at the stars. "It's about one a.m."

Willow's eyes narrowed as she observed that Angel wasn't wearing a watch. "How do you know? Is that something vampires can sense?"

Angel shook his head. "Not entirely. Our eyesight is better, so we can see the sky lightening before humans do -- gives us time to take shelter before the dawn. But this is just something I learned. You can tell the time by the position of the Big Dipper. Or you can use the moon. It came in handy when Darla and I traveled in the early years."

Head cocked thoughtfully to one side, Willow gaped at him for a moment, then grinned and said, "I guess I should have known, given how long you've been around, but I never really realized how much you must know."

"And yet I can't get my team to start talking to each other again," Angel muttered in mild frustration. Somewhat apologetically, he added, "Things haven't been too chummy since we defeated the Beast."

"Wanna talk?" Willow asked. "I mean, not that we haven't been talking, but maybe shift gears and, you know, *Talk* talk?"

Angel's expression grew distant as he considered it, then clouded over. He *did* want to talk, but this would take more time than either of them could spare right now. It hit him like a blow to the gut. So much had gone wrong this year; there had been so many misunderstandings, so many betrayals, far too much pain. And he hadn't really been able to talk about it with anyone. His friends had all been too close to the problem. Looking back, Angel realized that he'd felt as isolated by the ill wind that had blown through his group of friends as he had when he'd been entombed beneath the ocean.

But it was late. This was a conversation that would take longer than the few hours remaining until the dawn. Besides, he didn't want to ruin the mood. He hadn't enjoyed the simple pleasure of someone's company this much in a long time.

"Maybe another time," Angel suggested at last, taking heart in the way Willow's eyes lit up at the prospect of another visit. "It's a little complicated."

"It's a deal," Willow readily agreed, flashing him a genuinely pleased smile. "Complicated is my language. I'm fluent in complicated."

"It was nice to have some company this evening, though," Angel added.

"It was," Willow acknowledged. "Although, quiet company. I've been getting a little overwhelmed with the chumminess at Casa Summers."

A slight flush crept across Willow's cheeks as she said this, and although Angel had always tried not to invade his friends' privacy by reading the signals that their bodies betrayed, it wasn't as if he could turn off his senses. Giving into a mischievous temptation, Angel tested the waters.

"Too much overall chumminess, or too much from a specific person?"

Instantly, Willow's body temperature shot up and her pulse drummed in rapid tempo. Angel chided himself for toying with her and felt accordingly chagrined at his own, instinctual reaction. His fangs itched to drop but he nudged his baser appetites back into place.

Unable to contain her huge grin, Willow lowered her eyes shyly and admitted, "One of the potential Slayers, Kennedy, and I have kind of...um...hit it off."

Schooling his features to a mask of detached concern, Angel turned his head to look directly at Willow, frowned slightly and remarked, "A *potential* Slayer? She must still be a teenager. Isn't she a little young for you?"

He had to fight not to smirk at the scowl of indignation that materialized on Willow's face, right on schedule. "Like you're one to talk?" she retorted.

Angel didn't bother hiding his impish grin, and once Willow saw that he'd been teasing her, her entire face lit up with an enraptured, almost-drunken smile. She collapsed back into the soft contours of the sand and clapped both hands over her face, groaning in giddy embarrassment. Angel grinned unabashedly at her outburst and stretched out alongside her, relaxing comfortably on one elbow. After a final, muffled whimper Willow uncovered her face and stretched her arms above her head.

It was a completely free, relaxed posture; one that Angel had rarely seen on humans in his presence. For some reason, he appreciated the fact that Willow was so at ease around him. It made him feel less like a monster.

"It's just so...intense..." Willow admitted as she gazed thoughtfully up to the heavens.

Angel rolled onto his back and laced his fingers together before propping his hands beneath his head. The two of them gazed up at the constellations as Willow continued her hushed enthusiasm.

"Tara was so gentle, so warm. She made me feel safe...loved. Everything was okay when I was with her. But Kennedy is..." Willow's voice trailed off even as her body tingled slightly at the mere recollection of her budding love interest. After several moments, the words she'd been searching for came to her. "She's so alive. I've spent so much time dealing with death and darkness in the past few years, I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be that full of life. And she's fearless about everything. I mean, I tried not to...I was afraid to let myself...but she wouldn't let me hide."

With a wistful smile, Angel replied, "Buffy was the same way, in the beginning. I didn't feel like I'd ever deserve love again, not with my past. But every time I tried to bury it, she dug deeper, made me feel." He paused before adding softly, "She chased me through the shadows and gave me her heart."

"Yeah," Willow agreed, her brow furrowing in astonishment as she realized that she and Angel were bonding over what it was like to date a Slayer.

When she recovered from the weirdness factor, Willow confessed, "It's hard, though. I worry about her when she goes out on patrol with the others. Even though it's her calling, I want to go along and keep her safe. With the power I have, nothing could hurt her. But then...then..." Willow's voice softened and she closed her eyes. "Then I hear Tara reminding me that it wouldn't be right."

Angel felt an old, familiar ache tighten around his heart. He gazed silently for a few moments at the canopy of stars overhead, then sat up, rested his elbows on his knees and said, "One of the biggest challenges of loving someone is knowing when to let them go so they'll be free to live the life they were meant to live."

Willow sat up as well and turned sympathetic eyes to Angel. "You still miss Buffy."

Nodding once, Angel acknowledged, "When someone teaches you about love, you never really get over them. Buffy is always with me."

As her thoughts turned toward moments spent with Tara, kissing honeyed skin and relaxing in warm, soft arms, Willow murmured, "Yeah."

They sat together for a little while longer, until Angel rose to his feet and extended a hand to help Willow up.

"We should probably get going," he said. "You've got friends who will wonder where you are."

Willow detected just a hint of sadness in his voice and wondered about the state of things in Los Angeles and what it was that Angel wasn't saying. She accepted his hand and rose to her feet. Before she let go, she gave him a reassuring squeeze and countered, "Just remember the same goes for you. I'll be thinking about you, Angel."

Not worrying about whether the gesture would be awkward or uncomfortable, Willow stepped in and wrapped her arms firmly around Angel, hugging him as if she could reach into the depths of her soul and transfer a little warmth to him. She'd read him correctly, because rather than stiffening self-consciously, he relaxed into the embrace, resting his chin lightly atop her head. They held each other like that for several, long moments; a passerby who didn't know them might easily have mistaken them for lovers who had paused during a romantic, nighttime stroll on the beach.

Eventually, Willow gently pulled away and asked, "Want me to ride back to the hotel with you?"

Angel shook his head. "No, it's okay. If you go now, you might just make it back before the others do."

Nodding, Willow agreed, "The Bronze should be closing right about now. I'll call," she began before pausing with a grin and correcting herself, "I'll come visit again soon, Anti-Phone Guy."

Flashing her a half-bemused, half-miffed look, Angel growled sternly, "If you call me a dinosaur, we're going to have words."

"Who me?" Willow blinked innocently at him. "Dinosaurs were really old things that *did* die out, O Immortal One."

Laughing at the visible irritation on Angel's face, Willow bid him a final farewell and launched herself homeward. In no time at all, she was touching down in the back yard. Feeling more at peace than she had in a while, Willow let herself in through the kitchen door, dropped her shoes just inside the entry, retrieved her abandoned pint of Ben & Jerry's from the freezer, and went back out to sit on the porch.

About twenty minutes later, she heard boisterous voices at the front of the house. Buffy and the potentials must be back. She glanced up at the Big Dipper, a small smile tugging at her lips. Maybe Angel would teach her his trick for telling time someday.

The kitchen door opened and Buffy stepped outside.

"Hey, Wills, I didn't know you were still up."

"Just me, Ben, and Jerry," Willow returned her greeting. "So, did everyone have mucho fun?"

"Mucho and then some," Buffy confirmed, sitting beside Willow and reaching for the pint of ice cream. Willow passed her the spoon. Stuffing a gargantuan spoonful in her mouth, Buffy asked, "How about you? What did you do tonight?"

"Oh..." Willow sighed with a contented smile. "Nothing special."

THE END