Title: Queen
Author: Medea
Email: medealives@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction based on characters and situations created and owned by Joss Whedon and various companies. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended
Summary: Angel is back from Hell after being defeated by Buffy and resouled by Willow. He and Willow need to talk about the cat-and-mouse games Angelus played with her. Willow's POV. Sequel to 'Bishop', companion piece to 'King'.

I feel all hot and sweaty-palmed.

And only part of it is because of the fire that's crackling away in the fireplace.

On an eighty-degree day.

Mostly, it's due to the fact that this is the first time since the rest of us found out Angel was back that he and I will actually talk.

About.

It.

What happened.

About a dead homeless guy in my room. About a scar on my ankle that still hurts when I do jumping-jacks in P.E. About dead fish and the proper treatment of aquariums. About nightmares.

About him trying to kill me.

About blood.

About us.

I thought about bringing someone with me, but there are things we might talk about that I don't want anyone else to know. Especially Buffy. Oh, she'd be all, 'I'm strong, I'm okay, I can deal', but deep down, she'd be hurt and I don't want that. Besides, I need to do this for myself. I need to know that I can face him on my own.

Well, so far, so good. I can face him.

And that's about all we're doing right now: a whole lotta facing.

I was kinda hoping that someone who's been around for two-and-a-half centuries would know a good ice-breaker for this kind of situation. But, then, Angel never really was very chatty.

I guess that just proves that this really is an absurd conversation, in the Jean-Paul Sartre meaning of the word. Which, in a way, makes the fire not seem so strange any more. I mean, there really is no way to start talking about this without it sounding a little absurd. So why not start a fire on an eighty-degree day?

Well, I suppose one of us has to go first.

"I didn't know vampires got cold."

Yup, definitely going for the absurd.

I think I even managed to make things worse. Angel actually looks crushed. Maybe I should have expressed my appreciation?

"We don't...This was for you."

"Oh." Oopsie. "Going for the homey touches to make this easier, huh?"

That seems to help. Angel grins a little, even if it's a tortured grin. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen a grin that wasn't tortured on Angel. So, I guess this counts as relaxed and conversation-ready.

"Willow, I needed to talk with you for two reasons. One was to apologize. If there were anything I could say that would make up for what I put you through, I'd say it. But words can't even begin to make amends. I can't hope that you'll forgive me-"

"Angel, don't-"

I want to tell him he's right, that words can't change the past. What we need to talk about is the future - where we go from here. But I barely get a couple of words out before he cuts me off.

"Hear me out, Willow. Please."

And, hey - pretty rude to interrupt. I'm starting to notice some things that Angel has in common with Angelus. The dividing line isn't as clear as I used to think it was.

"I think you figured out on your own that there was no real danger in drinking my blood. There isn't any irresistible bond between us. That was just another lie, although I'm more...in-tune to you now. But you haven't been tainted by my blood."

I'm so relieved that Angel is willing to get right to the point that I can't help smiling. I was so worried that we'd tiptoe around this. "Another mind game, huh?"

He nods. "If anything, it's the mind games, and not my blood, that changed you. Don't take this the wrong way, Willow, but you *have* been changed. What I did infected you - just not the way the demon told you. When you tasted my blood, it wasn't the blood that affected you, it was the experience of using any means necessary to fight back. All that was sacred, every familiar, civilized veneer of humanity was stripped away. You tapped a primal force within yourself. That changes a person. I just hope it won't ever lead you down a dark path."

Hoo boy! A big NO THANK YOU to that, especially after seeing Angel, Angelus, whoever he was in action. It's kinda sweet that he's worried about it though.

"Trust me, Angel. No plans for darkness here," I reassure him. "I've had enough of that for one lifetime. The last thing I want is to hurt anybody." This gets me thinking, though, and since I think this is one of those times when we're both super honest with each other, I admit, "Well, okay, so I may have been known to hurt bad-guy types once or twice, but I don't plan to make it part of my daily routine."

Angel smiles again, but it's a sad smile, like he has to work at it.

"I also needed to make sure you understand, to warn you. If I ever change...if I ever lose my soul again, Willow, you'll be in danger. Buffy won't be the only one I come for."

Angel doesn't look me in the eye as he says this. As awkward as it is, though, it's reassuring in a way. It's the best sign I have that Angel is really Angel. When he didn't have his soul, he watched me in a really, really creepy way.

I don't think he'll bother with the creepy watching if he ever comes back, though. I might not even see him coming until it's too late. That was something I knew even before I performed the curse, though, and I try to explain as much to Angel--

"I know. Seeing as I'm the one who restored your soul. But it was my move to make, Angel. I knew what the consequences might be in a worst-case scenario, but I decided this was the best move I could make."

"It's not about the soul, Willow. Not mine, at least."

--when he makes me wonder if we were both at the same terror-fest last spring, or if I only imagined some of what I thought I knew.

Did I just imagine it?

Suddenly, everything else I'd been planning to say goes "poof", and I feel like I missed a move somewhere in the game.

I was so sure about Darla, about what it had done to Angelus to watch as the soul made him kill her. That's why I re-cursed him. I thought it would be the perfect punishment.

Nothing had hurt him worse than his own soul - not Buffy, not Giles, not me.

Besides, after everything he'd done to all of us, after he did so much to tear our lives apart, it seemed like poetic justice to restore his soul and force the demon to watch while Angel rebuilt his life. A good life. One where he helps people. One where he has friends he cares about, and who care about him.

Everything that the demon hates.

But...now he says it's not about the soul? Was I that wrong?

"You mean...you're more upset about the other stuff than about your soul?"

"Not upset, Willow. I enjoyed every minute of it. Enjoyed it too much."

Well, duh, that was pretty obvious at the time, but what does it--?

Oh.

*Oh*.

Okay, really, really wishing I could go back to not knowing what I just figured out. That verb wasn't as past tense as it should have been, and maybe we're not ready to talk about this yet, and...oh gosh...is that his?...it IS!...oh GOSH, stop looking!...stop looking at it and start talking fast and Angel really, really needs to stop looking at me like that--

"So..." come on brain work think say something, "I guess we'll just have to hope you never lose your soul again."

Arrgh! Great going, brain. Get us off this topic!

Think. *Think!*

"Could you promise me something in the meantime?" Angel nods, just staring into the fire again, which makes it easier for me to talk. Except that my mouth is getting dry, and I have to swallow. And then Angel looks at me again, like *that*, and my knees feel weak. I'd better get to the important stuff, because I may have to cut this conversation short. I'm not as ready as I thought I was.

"Don't say anything to Buffy, please." Hey, there you are, voice. "Don't tell her about Darla. She loves you, and it would hurt her to know about the things...he...admitted to me."

"The things *I* admitted, Willow. The demon is still here. Don't have any illusions -- things will be difficult, for a while."

Angel turns back to the fire, staring into it like he's somewhere else. Or maybe like he thinks he should be somewhere else. I watch the flames dance against the hearth, and, with a little brain hiccup, it hits me that it all happened only a few months ago for me, but for Angel, it's been almost a century. A century of imprisonment and torture in a hell dimension.

I don't think I've ever seen him look so old.

Part of me actually feels bad for him, and it's confusing. After everything he did - killing Ms. Calendar, terrorizing all of us for months, almost destroying the world - I shouldn't be feeling this way, should I? For Xander, it's so simple: he doesn't trust Angel any farther than he could throw him. Not that Xander could throw Angel very far...or at all, really. But I can't help it. Angel's already saved my life once since he's been back, and besides...

...there's this little voice inside my head that wonders, what if it were me? Suppose I messed up that badly. Wouldn't I want someone to remember the me who I am now instead of just the bad me, and give me a second chance?

Stupid empathy!

I don't know if it's these thoughts, or the fact that Angel looks so alone, but without really thinking about it, I move toward him.

"Don't."

Well.

So much for empathy. Now I'm ready to strangle him. He's not the boss of me, and he can't go all 'woe is me' one minute, then turn into a Doberman the next minute and bark at me to back off. This is hard enough as it is without Angel running hot and cold.

I can already feel my jaw clenching into the expression that scares Xander. I wonder if it will scare Angel.

"Angel, what you did after you lost your soul was...there isn't anything that I can say that comes close to how horrible it was. The worst of it was that you didn't care. It was all just a big game to you. Don't you think I know how difficult it's going to be? I was there. I have more reason to be upset than you do."

At this point, I have to stop and breathe because all those reasons are coming back to me now. My ankle burns where he bit it, as if it had just happened. An image of that poor man dying - not dead, *dying* -- on my floor makes my eyes sting. There's a big difference between dead and dying, and as much as I've had to deal with corpses, as many times as I've seen a vampire crumble to dust, it's no comparison to seeing another human being's life *stop* right before my eyes. See it end...just like that.

Angel did that. He made me watch that.

Now I can never go back to not knowing what that moment looks like, as much as I wish I could. For a split second, I have to ask myself again why I'm even here.

But then I find that place inside, that anchor to everything I care about, and hang on tight. I know how I want my life to be. Helping Buffy for the past couple of years, I learned that I can make a difference, but it's never easy. Buffy has to be so strong, and even she ran away when it hurt too much. I could, too. I could walk out on Angel and just not do this, but at some point, we'll have to deal with it if we're both going to keep helping Buffy fight the monsters. So it might as well be now.

"Some things in my life will never be the same again. I don't know if I'll ever feel safe in my room. But there are other things that I *can* try to fix. Things that matter, like friendships. We were friends before everything that happened last spring. Well, not that we were exactly best friends or Friday night movie buddies or anything, but you were part of the gang. At some point, you have to get over the guilt and meet me half way if we're ever going to be friends again. If we can't...well, then he - your other you - he wins. He takes something away from me that I don't want to lose."

There. I said it.

That wasn't so hard, except why does Angel look even worse now? His eyes...I didn't know eyes could be so dark and still shine the way his do, like he's about to cry. Is he...is he shaking?

"Willow, you don't understand. It's still me. There is no 'other' me. It's my soul that can be ripped away; the demon is always here. I can't just hug and be friends...I can't touch you."

Oh.

"There's still something inside me that wants to ram you right up against the wall and break you."

No.

"Have you."

No, this can't--

"Drain you and make you a demon."

--be happening. No no no, he has his soul. I *know* he has his soul, I felt it.

"You were right about Darla. Believe me, for daring to say what you said, the demon wants to make you feel pain like you've never felt it before."

Angel never talked like this before when he had his soul. And I'm positive he does have it...but...

...he never watched me like this until after that night in the alley. This is so not good. What if it's not the soul that keeps Angel from being all grr? What if it's just something he has to work at, and he's decided to quit trying?

This is so not good and what.

Is.

He.

Doing?

No, don't come closer, Angel. This isn't how it goes and please, please stay over there. Angel may have spent a couple of centuries in hell, from what Buffy says, but he can't have forgotten the difference between groveling and prowling. Groveling, or, at least talking, is what he's supposed to be doing right now, so we can deal with what happened and move on. Prowling is a big no-no, especially since we haven't re-established our boundaries yet. And you know, I learned my lesson last spring. Boundaries are my friend. So, as much as I want to patch things up with Angel, I think I'll be moving closer to this nice, warm patch of sunlight now.

"We can love, Willow. Vampires feel the full range of passions, even devotion. When you mentioned Darla, it was a spear through the heart. In all the months that my soul was gone, that was probably the only time the demon felt anything close to hurt. It wanted to kill you for that."

And suddenly my stomach drops like I'm standing too close to the railing at the top of a really tall building because something clicks in a really, really bad way.

It *isn't* a question of the soul, not at all.

Angel said it himself: there is no "it", no other him.

I've been thinking like a human being. Okay, understandable, but in this situation? Kinda dangerous.

I guess it had been so easy to think of Angel as a kind of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but there really is only him. The soul might make him feel differently, or see things from a more ethical point of view, but it doesn't change what drives him. That's always the demon. Without it, he'd really be dead.

"Angel--" I try to stop him before he says it. I get it. At least, I think I get it, and I don't want to have him say it. This can just be one of those things we won't talk about - EVER - because I'm really not ready to know this, but it's already too late.

"But without Darla, the demon has other wants that are left unfulfilled. As much as it wants to torture you, it sees your potential as an adversary, but even more, a companion challenging enough not to bore it to tears. You matched it, matched *me*, time and time again."

And that's the real trap that Angelus lured me into. Not an alley, not a broom closet.

*Me.* He brought out something in me. And not just what he mentioned earlier.

I came here because I wanted to make peace with Angel, and because I wanted him to tell me the truth about blood. But this is my answer.

"You should have been cowering in terror, like any other prey. But you weren't. That kind of strength of will, so fierce, so...ardent. It's..."

This is how twisted life is on the Hellmouth, because right now, I'm wishing that it *was* only Angel's blood that had changed me. Some supernatural blood bond? Hey, no problem. At least then I could hope that this...this whatever it is between us could be cured. Giles would have a solution somewhere in one of his books. A ritual or potion or something.

But noooo, that would be too easy.

No, I'm stuck with a big, hairy, terrifying truth. It was my own choice that changed me. Live or die. Funny, it's not so simple any more.

Oh, I know it wasn't entirely free will. That's for darn sure. Hey, teenage girl here, and not ashamed to admit that I'm not much of a match for an evil vampire when he's set on toying with someone. But I was so busy trying not to fall into the whole dying trap that I missed the other trap.

The one where, by not dying, I actually came across as strong enough or clever enough to be interesting.

And, hey! Getting really frustrated here. What is it with vampires? It's like they give you only three options: don't get noticed in the first place; get noticed and get eaten; or get noticed, manage *not* to get eaten, and then get even more noticed in a not so good, how-would-you-like-to-join-the-family kind of way.

"Well, combine it with your innocence, and there's nothing more seductive for a vampire."

So here we are.

Angel staring at me, me staring at him, feeling way too warm and breathing harder than I want to because I'm pretty sure it's a dead giveaway and cut it out with the bad puns already, brain. But I can't help it. This is why I wish it were as simple as blood: at least then I'd be able to blame these thoughts on some irresistible pull his demon holds over me.

Instead, I only have little ol' me to blame for the tingly flush I get at the way he's looking at me. Like he's going to lose control. Like I'm the one who is making him lose control.

Me. Willow. The butt of Cordelia's shallow disdain, the one Xander never saw in that 'well, helllloooo' way.

I feel awful and excited and guilty all at once, and why does it have to be me and not some vamp blood trick?!?

I love Oz. Oz is sincere and loves me, and he's everything I *should* want.

Angel is all wrong. He's my best friend's first love, he's way too dangerous and unpredictable...and so handsome, intense, and knowing.

And he's *noticing* me.

Somehow, I manage to pull out a stake, but I'm not even sure it's Angel I'm worried about. If there were any way I could point the stake at my own, inner temptations, I would. Yeah, okay, I know Angel is one, big, walking temptation, but I can't kid myself and pretend it's all him. A lot of it is me...

Then Angel moves even closer and I *know* I've become my own worst enemy when his hand closes over mine and I don't even try to pull away. His skin is warm from the fire, and so smooth. Everywhere he runs his hand over mine, it burns and oh God breathe, breathe...This is wrong, so, so wrong, and I'm not stopping it.

"You figured out my weakness, Willow, but I know yours. You can withstand threats, you can outwit even the best, but you're so afraid of being desired. You yearn for it, but when you're finally confronted with someone who desires you, with your own power to arouse and enflame, it frightens you."

No. We can't do this. This way leads to broken friendships and, oh, maybe another round with a psychopath who wants to kill me and might just unleash hell on earth for good measure.

But Angel won't stop touching me. Me!

Bad thoughts, bad thoughts. Stop, Willow!

"Stop, Angel...."

"You have to learn to master it, Willow. Know that you are desirable, and don't be intimidated by it. If you let it frighten you, then...if you ever have to face the demon again, he'll win. He'll outlast you. The demon can desire you longer than you can hold out."

Angel's mouth ghosts over my neck, only it isn't terrifying me the way it should after everything he put me through last spring.

So not terrifying.

It feels good. Too good.

"Vampires are nothing but desire, Willow, an endless, driving hunger."

Those few words, so soft, so seductive, break the spell. I've felt the temptation of what I *could* have. Wielding that kind of power over someone, being desired like that...it sounds great, with all kinds of yummy naughtiness, but it would really be obsession, nothing more, nothing less. And as Angel said, it would go on and on until I was all used up, and all that was left was the desire, the obsession, but no more Willow. Is that how I want to end up?

Still, my voice shakes a little when I finally manage to speak.

"Angel?"

When he pulls back, I let go of the stake and dig into my pocket for the mirror I'd brought with me. Hope this works. And if I'm stern, it's directed as much at myself as it is at Angel.

"Thanks for the advice, and by the way? Hands. Off."

Holding the mirror in the sunlight, I angle it until it bounces a beam onto Angel's face. His skin hisses and blisters and he shoots away so quickly I don't even see him move. One minute he's right next to me, and in the blink of an eye, he's halfway across the room.

"We had a lab on the physics of light a few weeks ago," I tell him, scrambling for nice, safe technical talk to take my mind off the fact that I just gave a really powerful vampire the equivalent of a slap in the face after a pretty amorous clinch.

I think my brain hasn't quite caught up with everything yet; I feel oddly calm.

He winces. "Bet you got an A."

"An A-. My lab partner was David Ebrah. He spent the whole time playing with the laser, making a little red dot dance on Mr. Baldwin's head."

Okay, breathe...breathe...This is normal. Or, at least, a step toward normal, but I don't think we'll get anywhere near normal for a few more weeks. And I've had all my nerves can handle for now. I'd better get out while I can. This is something that Angel and I will just have to deal with the hard way, bit by bit over time.

"You're right, Angel. It's going to be really, really difficult for a while. For a long time, probably."

Just as I've got myself calmed down and turn to leave, I see it.

A chess board.

Cold, chilling images flash through my mind, nightmares I had for weeks about reaching to move a piece and having it turn to a bloody, severed finger in my hand, the board red with death. Panic is rushing up like my own, dark, Pavlovian reaction to a game I never wanted to play, and it would be easy to let the fear take over.

But this has to stop.

I can do this.

As I walk over to the bookshelf, I feel a giddy grin, like I'm staring death in the face and it doesn't matter at all.

I pick up both kings, black and white and stuff them in my pocket.

"It's time to pick up the pieces and move on, Angel. No more games. See you at the library this Friday for the usual research fun on the monster of the week."

Before Angel has a chance to say anything else, I get out.

Sure, each step is pretty wobbly and I'm ready to fall down. But I made my choice. I made it months ago. And if there bad things with come with it, at least I can take advantage of the good side, too.

Yes, I want to survive.

And if I can survive a vampire chewing on me in a dark closet, I suppose I can survive a few weeks of tension and awkwardness.

I'll just keep a nice, safe distance...concentrate on quiet things, like college applications or maybe practicing my skills as a Wicca, and leave all those dark temptations behind.

After all, we survived what was almost the end of the world. There can't be anything much worse than that.

Can there?

THE END