Title: Protector
Author: Serendipity
Email: trekchic@usa.net
Distribution: Y'all know me. I say yes. Just ask beforehand so I know.
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Joss Whedon
Rating: PG-13 (language, violence and content)
Author's Notes: Oz doesn't exist...again (I'm SORRY!!!) and uhm..Oh, this is my take on what fourth season would be like for 'Buffy' and for the new series 'Angel'. (meaning, all of the previous seasons are fair game. I haven't seen Grad2 yet, though, so don't worry about that type of spoilage. Angel is in L.A.) Only difference: (big one) the Scooby Gang is still in high school. So, the events of season 3 took place their junior year. Oh, and lastly, for those who have read it and are wondering, this is totally unrelated to one of my other stories, When Stars Collide. :) Feedback is, as always, adored, highly appreciated, very motivational and always responded to.
Dedication: to everyone who's ever wanted to have something dedicated to them but never has, this story is wholeheartedly for you.

Part 2


Squinting at the brightness of the computer screen in the pitch black of her room, Willow leaned forward to adjust the contrast. Still somewhat daunted by the events of the past week, she’d spent most of the afternoon and all of the evening checking up on local newspapers for unexplained crimes or disappearances. So far, she’d checked both Sunnydale as well as the surrounding towns lying within a 50 mile radius and had come up with nothing beyond the occasional vampire attack disguised as gang violence. Stretching, she rubbed her neck tiredly and fingered the gold cross she’d taken to wearing these past few days < At least I know I’m not one of them… >

It was raining outside. Sheets of cold hard pellets battered against the pavement and lawns outside making Willow all the happier that she’d chosen to stay in tonight. Feeling a bit awkward, she’d declined Buffy’s offer to ‘go Bronzing’ in order to catch up on some long overdue ‘work’. After enduring a few playful jibes from Xander over her studiousness on a Friday night, she’d quietly excused herself from the library and beat a hasty retreat home.

It was nearly midnight and a familiar unsettled feeling invaded the pit of her stomach as she glanced at her clock. She had begun to truly dread going to sleep. < It’s the weekend…maybe I can just stay up all night… > Sighing, she buried her head in her hands < Yeah. Maybe I can stay up all night for tonight. But I’ll have to sleep at some point. > Although she’d been reluctant to do it for fear of finding out that whatever was happening to her was evil or irreversible, Willow knew she had no choice.

< Tomorrow, I go see Giles. >

“Time check.” Xander yelled over the blare of the music as he sat down at the tiny corner table. “12:15” his blonde companion reaffirmed after a glance at the delicate silver watch around her wrist.

“Hah. And the night is still young!” He pounded on the table jubilantly, “45 minutes til’ curfew. Wanna dance?”

“Can’t. I patrol in 15 minutes. I want to make an appearance nice and fresh. The vampires, they like.” She smiled at him brightly. “I’d invite you to come with me but a. You might get hurt and b. I’m out until 4 which is way past your bedtime, Xander.”

“Well, if Willow had come along, I could have used her as a sleepover alibi and none of us would even HAVE stupid curfews.” He responded in irritation.

“Xander, with or without Willow, if your parents had the slightest clue of what went on around here, you’d be home-schooled.”

“That’s besides the point.”

“Come on, SkyHawk, I’ll walk you home.”

“Could you PLEASE not call me that?”

Snorting, she shook her head, “Geez Xander, a litt- Oh crap.” Her eyes widened at the sight of the short man standing near the back entrance of the club.

“What?” Xander followed her gaze, “You know him?”

“Yes.” She responded sourly, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

As she rapidly made her way towards him, they made eye contact. He sent her a lazy smile and she had to resist the urge to slap him silly. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, blondie.”

“Is it Angel? What’s going on?”

“Nope. Not Angel. And you don’t need to worry, I was just leaving.” Turning away from her, he pushed the door open.

“Whistler, where is he?” she said, just loud enough for him to hear.

Shaking his head, the demon turned back and shrugged, “Safe. For once, he’s safe. I’m sorry, but that’s all I can tell you. I really do gotta go.”

Nodding slowly, she blinked back the tears in her eyes as she watched him leave, the rusty metal door creaking shut behind him.

“I will stay up, I will stay up, I will stay up.” Willow whispered the mantra softly to herself as she hopped up and down to invigorate her exhausted limbs.

Walking back and forth tiredly, she turned her sore, bloodshot eyes distastefully to her computer before moaning in defeat. “I’ve gotta get out of here. I can’t look at my monitor anymore.”

Quietly making her way downstairs, she opened up her refrigerator and stared blankly at the contents.

Shutting it, she made her way into her living room and flopped down on the couch. Turning on the television was absolutely out of the question. Her parents would wake up in a matter of seconds. She had tried it once when she was younger with the volume on mute and had been caught within half an hour.

< Music? > She’d lent her discman to Xander.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled herself back up and walked over to the window. It had stopped raining a while back and the street outside glistened in silent brilliance. < Wish I could go for a walk. > She stared forlornly out into the night. < Too bad I can’t cause I’d…well…die. >

Just as she was turning away to go upstairs, a man suddenly popped up on the other side of the glass, tapping on it to get her attention. Jumping back, Willow clamped her hands over her mouth to muffle her horrified scream.

‘Sorry.’ He mouthed from the other side, ‘Willow. Open the door.’

Staring numbly at him, she shook her head. < A coward, yes. A moron, no. >

Sighing, he withdrew a cross from his pocket and held it in his hand up to the window. Then, switching the cross to the other hand, he held up his unscathed palm. ‘Open the door. We need to talk.’

Unimpressed, she shook her head again < He may not be a vampire but who the heck knows what he might be? A-a warlock or a demon or a-a bug man or something…. >

Giving her an exasperated look, he searched in his jacket pocket for one last thing. His trump card. Smiling to himself, he pulled out a black hood with a thin black veil over the eye holes and plastered it up to the window.

Within seconds, he heard the click of a door being unlocked.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Willow Rosenberg was pretty sure she was going to throw up. Whistler sighed, and twirled his hat idly on his finger while waiting for her response. He’d been glad that the conditioning had worked and that the sight of the black hood had jogged her memory as to who he was, but it still didn’t make the truth any easier for her to handle. < Why are they so damn young these days? She’s just a kid. >

“When do…when do we leave?” She finally managed to gasp out.

“Tomorrow night before sunset.” He responded calmly.

“I can’t tell anyone, right?”

“No goodbyes.” He affirmed, averting his gaze to the opposite wall so as to avoid the silent heave of her shoulders.

The room became deathly quiet as he patiently waited for her to come to terms with her position. As her new mentor, it was his responsibility to not only guide her, but also to allow her time deal with things on her own.

Gingerly, she rubbed the spot right below her left hip. It was almost as if the small circular mark that resided there was now capable of burning her fingers through the thin cotton of her nightgown. She didn’t know how she’d missed it so many times before…this tiny mark that now dictated her future and her destiny. Abruptly, Willow stood up and nodded. “How much stuff can I take?” She turned to face him, resolve face firmly into place.

“Whatever you want. Whatever we can carry. They won’t be able to find you where we’re going.” He supressed a smile at her expression < Maybe they didn’t make a mistake when they chose this one. >

Wrapping an arm protectively around her slender waist, she dropped her gaze to the carpet again, “You know…I still have…a ton of questions….”

“They’ll have to wait. It’ll be dawn in a few hours, Willow. Get some rest. Enjoy today. I’ll come pick you up at around 6.”

< So, it’s just that easy for him, huh? > she tried to keep the bitterness out of her thoughts but it was hard. “Yeah…” she mumbled softly even though she burned inside from unexpressed anger.

Almost as if sensing her thoughts, he placed a hand on her shoulder, “Thank you, Willow.” He whispered softly, “I’ll show myself out.”

His appreciation startled her slightly and she turned to look at him, but he was already gone.

“Could there be another slayer around?” Cordelia cocked her head to one side.

“No, I don’t think so,” Angel responded thoughtfully, “As far as I know, Faith is still alive and so is Buffy.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t one of them?” she prodded him gently.

“Positive, Cordy. She was smaller and her technique wasn’t quite the same. Watchers tend to train out of the same book. What I saw didn’t resemble the product of Council influence.”

“Weird.” The brunette shrugged, “Well, at least it’s a good thing that she was there. She seems to be one of the good guys.”

“She is.” Offered a voice from the shadows.

Angel’s head shot up at the sound and turned to greet the newcomer, “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for the past two days. How do you know ab-,”

“I think congratulations are in order, Angel.” Stepping forward, Whistler drew a cigar out of his pocket and passed it to the vampire.

“What are you talki-,”

“You, my friend, are not going to believe this.” The smaller demon spoke through clenched teeth as he held his cigar in place while drawing out a lighter.

“Believe what?” Cordelia broke in, “Is this a good believe or a bad believe?

“Angel has a Protector,” Whistler responded simply before puffing thoughtfully on the cigar and stepping towards the window.

“A-A…A what?” she demanded.

“I-I…I can’t…” if possible, the vampire had gotten paler than normal, “Whistler, what do you mean?”

“Bad believe?” Cordelia guessed.

“Good believe.” Whistler corrected, “Very good believe.”

Shaking his head vigorously, Angel stood, “No, this isn’t right. I thought that only saints and holy men had Protectors. That isn’t possible.”

Shrugging, Whistler continued to stare out the window, “Well, since a freak snowstorm in California on the night of your attempted suicide wasn’t enough to convince you, I guess they tried to go a step further this time around. It should be obvious by now.”

“Okay, the snowstorm on Christmas? You had something to do with that?” Cordelia looked at Angel, confused.

“N-no.” Angel responded, his throat suddenly dry, “I-I didn’t…I mean, even if it did….I mean, it was a lucky coincidence.”

“Deny it all you want, kid, it doesn’t change the truth.”

“And that would be?” Cordelia stared at both men impatiently.

“For all your simpering and brooding about eternal damnation, Angel, someone upstairs is looking out for you. For some reason they’ve sent someone down here to protect your sorry ass.”

Angel didn’t respond, dumbfounded.

Chuckling, Whistler glanced at his protégé.

“And let me tell ya, man…she’s real cute.”




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