Title: Sweet Hereafter
Author: Eve
Email: alfa_fighter_3@hotmail.com
Pairing: W/A/S
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own all characters from BtVS and A:tS, the rest are mine.
Author's Notes: In my world, there was no Tara, no Glory, and Angel has been in love with Willow since she brought him back from Hell
Feedback: Writers need feedback like mere mortals need air. :-P
Summary: Fifteen years after the opening of the Hellmouth, Willow, Spike, and Angel meet again

Chapter 5


(Present)


The minute the sun was safely hidden beneath the horizon he was outside, weaving through the sidewalk crowd, breathing in the crisp autumn air. LA was so warm year-round that he always felt more-than-usually frosty. People noticed when he didn't sweat in the 100 degree heat. But in New York during the fall the air was slightly cool, just like him.

The warehouse he'd bought for the new business was across town, and the farther he walked, the thinner the crowd got. Wrapped in memories of Willow, past and present, he didn't notice he was being followed until he reached his destination. Something prickled the back of his neck as he unlocked the back door. Turning, he immediately spotted the figure across the street. The person seemed to be staring at him, waiting for something. Whoever it was, was wearing a cloak with a deep hood to hide their face.

Angel cocked his head. This person didn't seem to be a threat. Small, slender, no smell, no heartbeat, but there was something . . . Willow, he thought. It must have shown on his face because she pulled the hood back from her head and smiled at him. Gods, she looked like a genuine druid priestess.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out. Actually, I was wondering when you were going to sense my presence. I've been following you since the hotel. Losing your touch?" she teased.

Touch. Touching Willow. So soft, supple, swaying in his arms. Wanting him. "You really think?" he purred. Then the rest of her words filtered into his awareness, and he quashed the surge of lust. "How did you know where I was staying?"

"I didn't," she answered, taking a page right out of his how-to-be-cryptic guidebook.

He sniffed again, frowning. "Willow--your heart . . ."

"What? This old thing?" she laughed. "Don't worry. It's only spells to cover up my heartbeat, the smell of my blood, and the sound of my breathing, etcetera. This isn't exactly the best neighborhood. I might as well have a billboard saying 'I'm human, eat me' plastered to my back."

Her words sent a shot of electricity straight to his cock. Get yourself under control for God's sake, he thought. She's standing all the way across the street talking about getting killed by monsters and you're itching to bury your head between her thighs. Get a grip.

From what he could sense, she was completely dead. No wonder he hadn't known she was there before. "They must be powerful spells."

She gave him a grin that said, 'I'm powerful' before she stepped off the curb and sauntered towards him. Maybe she could teach him a spell that would hide the prominent bulge in his pants. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his duster and brought them together, effectively closing it. He chose to ignore her knowing smirk and said, "So what brings you to my neck of the woods." Idiot. She followed you here.

"I came to inspect your team. See what I'll be working with. If I can work with them."

Angel refused to show the pang of disappointment that he felt inside. So she had come to see his new employees. Not him. He wondered if he should say something about the other night, apologize for being so forward, for running off the way he did, but her hand was on the doorknob.

"Shall we?" she asked, opening the unlocked door for him. He walked into the inky blackness, trying to remember where the light switch was. Now he'd gone too far, and turned around. There should be a pull cord right around . . .

Willow bumped into his chest with a startled "Oof." Her fingers came up to run over his chest and he tensed. It would be so easy to put his arms around her, to lower his mouth to her sweet lips. To feel her respond beneath his fingers. He realized he had no idea what she was feeling because she still had her spells up. There was no way she could miss the erection he was sporting. Her stomach brushed against it every time she inhaled.

His arm jerked down and they were bathed in light from a single bare bulb. In her eyes he saw lust, but also sadness and a little built of guilt. She looked away.

"Sorry. Immortal body, mortal eyesight." She backed away, waiting for him to lead her inside. He wanted to know what was wrong, how he could fix it. What had she been doing for the past fifteen years besides creating legends of a warrior witch? Was she happy? Could he make her happy? It all came back to one thing: she belonged to someone else--he had no right.

In awkward silence he led her down the hallway and into the storage room turned library. Through another door into the main office, up a spiral staircase into the training room. Everyone was there.

"How did you know they would be here?"

"Same way I knew where you were." Again with the cryptic. Then all playfulness disappeared and she looked at him plainly. "It's really good to see you, Angel." She buried her nose in his chest. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." He shut his eyes, reveling in the feel of her. She was the only thing that ever made him feel whole. In his wildest dreams they were like this, wrapped in each other forever. He tightened his hold on her to make sure she was real, and to his delight she clung back. "It's been too long."

"We have eternity to catch up." Literally. She pulled back only slightly to wipe a tear from her cheek and gave him a pure Willow smile. No attitude, no double entendres, no mystery. Just guileless happiness.

"Hey Boss. Who's the minx?" Angel turned toward the voice, forgetting they had company. Sean and Mac were on the mats, training momentarily paused, Penelope stood by observing, a heavy book propped in the crook of her elbow, and Seth huddled in the corner, watching them over the screen of his laptop.

The change that came over Willow's face was startling in its swiftness. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and a cold expression played over her face. He would have been concerned at the sudden change if it wasn't for the squeeze she gave to their interlaced fingers. Just a mask to get down to business. He understood.

Angel introduced each of them in turn. "This is Penelope, she was a Watcher-in- training before quitting the Council. Over there is Sean, he's a warlock, beside him is Mac, our resident demon. That's Seth in the corner. He's good with computers. Very good." He didn't know how they would feel about his disclosures, but Willow's purpose here was to find out about them. What were they going to do about it anyway?

Willow smiled wryly. "A Watcher, a demon, a witch, and a hacker. Tried and true formula."

Angel shrugged. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." It sounded strange even to his ears. Not the kind of thing he normally said. It was enough to make Willow giggle softly, her hard features dissolving briefly. He looked back to the room full of curious people.

"This is Willow."

The mere mention of her name got reactions from all of them. Everyone knew about Spike and Willow. Immortal lovers, unstoppable demon slayers, the legends themselves were legendary in their scope and extravagance. Nothing had prepared them for the slip of a girl that stood before them, looking harmless in her flowing blue cloak.

After all, she had just giggled.

Penelope was studying her intensely, while Seth twitched nervously and refused to look at her. Mac was suitably impressed. It was Sean who actually spoke up, doubt marring his features.

"This is Willow? But Boss, she's so . . . small."

Willow released Angel's hand so she could cross her arms over her chest. "I don't need to be big when I could use the magic in my fingernail to throw you across the room."

Angel tried to suppress his grin and failed. Sean saw it and bristled. "Is that a challenge?" He was too cocky for his own good, and didn't like to be shown up. He reminded Angel of Spike in that way. He watched as Willow let her cloak slip to the floor. His eyes feasted on the exposed skin of her midriff and, dear God, leather pants. He caught the brow that Penelope arched at him. Was his desire really that obvious, or was it just a woman thing?

Sean and Willow squared off in the center of the room. "Be careful, Boy," he warned sincerely. Sean was good, but Willow had a few years of experience on him, and a healthy dose of actual magic instruction from some of the most accomplished Wicca in the world. He didn't stand a chance. At best he could surprise her a few times before she beat him to the mat.

It was over in less than ten minutes. Willow puffed at some hair that had fallen into her eyes and held out her hand. "Good fight," she said, hoisting Sean to his feet.

Unlike Spike, Sean knew when he had been beat. He grinned, doubt permanently erased. "Yeah. Next time don't hold back on me."

She smiled briefly, then straightened, all business. Her tone was firm. "Mac. What do you do?"

"I fight," he shrugged.

"Do you fight well?"

"That depends on your concept of 'well'."

A smirk curved the corners of her mouth. "Well enough to take me."

"You were just fighting. I'll let you rest for awhile before finding out."

"I doubt the vamp on the street trying to bite my neck would offer the same courtesy."

He shrugged again, and took Sean's place across from her. Angel leaned against the railing to watch them fight. The Willow he remembered had preferred to spray vamps with holy water from a safe distance, and was squeamish holding her own stake. In the past fifteen years this Willow had learned to use her body to fight, a deadly honed weapon. Her style was reminiscent of Buffy, only quicker and with less flair to create efficiency. Spike had taught her well.

Sean landed a blow to her shoulder that pushed her to the side. She slugged him in the jaw and he countered with a roundhouse kick, but she ducked and swept his feet out from under him. As they traded blows Angel noted the graceful way she moved. Her kicks, spins, jabs, and flips were effortless, but precise. Awkward Willow was no more. She often used Mac's own strength against him, sending him sprawling with his own momentum. He quickly caught on and revised his tactics. Brute strength wasn't going to work against Willow.

Angel winced anytime Mac landed a particularly vicious blow. He had to keep telling himself that he wasn't really hurting her--she was Immortal. Any welts on her perfect skin would bruise and heal within hours. Suddenly Mac caught her in the back with his boot and she went flying, smashing into the wall. One of the wood panels splintered on impact. In a second Angel was on his feet, demon roaring, and a menacing growl deep in his chest. While the others looked at him sharply, Willow paid him no heed. She was on her feet with a maniac grin, charging her opponent. At the last possible second she veered to the right and jumped, lashing out with her left heel. Her jumpkick caught Mac on the side of the head with a satisfying 'thunk' and Angel was able to calm himself to some degree. She was all right. She even seemed in her element.

Soon, a fine sheen of perspiration appeared on her skin, and Mac faltered in midswing. Willow's blow sent him sprawling on his ass, but he made no move to counter or defend himself. He just looked at her curiously.

"I thought you were a vampire."

"And vampires d-d-don't sweat," informed Seth from the corner. His nose was buried in the laptop, looking for all the world like he hadn't even been paying attention.

"What made you think that?"

"Spike's a vampire," answered Sean inanely.

"And the sky is blue and the earth is round. What's your point?"

"The way you fight," said Mac. "That one blow would have killed a human."

Penelope spoke up for the first time, her voice crisp and without an accent of any sort if that was possible. "And with a few exceptions," she said, glancing at Angel, "vampires rarely tend to keep company with mortals."

"I'm not a vampire. But I never said I was a mortal." This time even Seth stopped to stare at her. She never gave them the opportunity to comment on her revelation.

"Watcher. Penelope," Willow corrected, softening her voice from severe to slightly less severe. "Trained to be a Watcher. I trust you know enough about the occult to guide the others."

"That depends on your concept of 'enough'," she intoned dryly.

Willow stared at her for a moment, and then burst into laughter. Angel watched her shoulders shake with glee, and walked over to hand her a towel. "I like them," she confessed as she toweled off her body. His mind was preoccupied with other, more creative ways to clean her skin. Like with his tongue.

"You guys head on home now. I'll see you tomorrow."

They said their good-byes, and Willow frowned as Seth scurried past, making a wide arc around her and Angel.

"What's his story?"

Angel answered quickly, trying to stop his roving eyes and failing miserably. "Paranoid schizophrenic. Very mild. Won't take any medications. Says neuroleptics are laced with mind control drugs." Her chest was still heaving from exertion, a flush splayed over the tops of her breasts.

"How did he get to be a computer whiz?"

"Don't know. He just got out of jail for hacking into some important database." Down her side, where the soft looking leather bit into her waist. Those damn leather pants were so tight he had come to realize that she wasn't wearing any underwear.

"Do you remember which one?"

He couldn't hold it in anymore. "Willow, I could think of so many other things to do with that mouth." Her gasp of surprise was quickly swallowed as his mouth descended on hers. Fifteen years he'd waited for this. Waited for the way she moaned when he cupped her ass and pressed her against his arousal. Waited for the feel of her tongue sliding against his as he took advantage of her moan to slip his tongue past the barrier of her lips. Waited for the way she melted against him, fists in his hair to keep his mouth locked to hers. His hands skimmed up her back, under her shirt. The thumbs came around to graze the undersides of her breasts, and she arched into him, wrapping one leather-encased leg around his thigh. His tongue battled with hers, sucking, stroking, playing over her blunt teeth. But there was something missing, something essentially Willow.

"The spells," he gasped. "Willow, you have no taste."

Any minute now he would be immersed in pure Willow: her scent, her taste, the sound of her blood whooshing through her veins. But it never happened. She pulled away and put her fingers to her kiss-swollen lips, looking as if she'd violated the Ten Commandments and committed the seven deadly sins all at once. The pain was so great he thought his unbeating heart was literally breaking into a thousand pieces. He looked at her with imploring eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't do this."

Of course she couldn't. Willow was loyal to the end. No way she could betray her bond-mate, and with his own Sire no less.

"I should go."

"Willow, wait." He grabbed her arm before she could flee. "Please stay. Talk to me." The fact that she didn't shake off his arm was not taken lightly. "If I promise to keep my hands off you, will you stay?"

She smiled at the ground, shaking her head. "It's not that. It's . . . it's so many other things. It's Spike."

"Spike is just one thing."

"Spike's complicated." Well, he couldn't argue with her there. She looked at him with bright eyes. "Angel, please. I can't talk about this right now."

He let her go. "All right. But I'm here if you need me."

"We have eternity, remember?"

He nodded and watched her disappear down the stairs, a moment later the back door shut with a soft click and he was left alone. Yes, they had eternity.

Angel didn't think he could wait that long.




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