Title: The Road Back from Hell
Author: JR
Email: JRR42@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13
Episode spoilers: Up to season 2. Season 3 ain't happening here.
Status: Complete
Archive: To those with permission, yes. Everybody else, please ask first, I usually say yes.
Series/Sequel: Follows 'Hell on the Body,' 'Hell on the Soul,' and 'To Hell and Back'
Warnings: Nope. Not this time.
Disclaimer: Angel, Willow, et al, are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB. All characters are used without permission. This story is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights, nor is any profit being made from it.
Thanks: As always, to Heather T., and to Marius.
Notes: This is the first in a planned 3-part arc of "fluff" stories covering Angel and Willow's changing friendship. If you're looking for angst, serious plot, or Angel owies; you've made a wrong turn somewhere. (Besides, Angel was complaining that he needed a rest after 3 stories where I tortured him. How could I refuse? ;-)
Archive summary: First of three vignettes about Angel's re-adjustment and his expanding friendship with Willow.

"Damn!Damn!DAMN! This is impossible!" I muttered angrily as I struggled to keep my 'game face' from putting in an appearance. I didn't have time for this. There were still too many other things left on my 'to do' list for the evening.

'There! Gotcha, you son of a bitch!' I'm ashamed to admit it, but I was half tempted to throw one last sucker punch at my dreaded enemy just out of spite. I'd been battling it for the past hour, and I'd *finally* managed to beat the damned thing...

"12:00"

"12:00"

"12:00"

"ARGH!" I screamed in frustration. It was as if the flashing little numbers were personally mocking me. Two hundred and forty three years old, and I was being bested by a damned VCR! Lashing out in anger, I slammed my hand down on the coffee table, accidentally sending a glass vase crashing to the floor.

Of course, it was at that precise moment that a knock sounded at the door.

"It's open!" I snarled fiercely before I could control my temper.

"a-angel?" Willow's voice was timid as she cautiously cracked open the door just enough to peak into the room.

Damn. I scared her. I felt my heart breaking even as I mentally kicked myself about eight different ways for losing control of my temper. That was the *last* thing I wanted to do around Willow. There goes that irony factor again. The reason I bought the stupid VCR in the first place was to make Willow more comfortable when she came by to see me.

In the five weeks since she rescued me from hell, Willow has become a frequent visitor of mine. It started when I first returned from hell. We spent six days recuperating at Cordelia's house -- first in different connecting rooms, and then together as soon as she was able to move under her own power. It was the last two days of our convalescence that drastically altered the course of our friendship.

I can still remember the shocked expression on Giles' face when he came in and found a sleeping Willow cradled safely in my arms. I'll give him credit, he didn't actually *say* anything, but at the rate the wheels in his head must have been turning, I'm surprised there wasn't smoke coming out of his ears.

With Willow in a coma-like state of sleep, Giles and I managed to make some uncomfortable small talk. It wasn't much, but given the recent history between the two of us, it was a start. Not a great one, really, but we did our best despite his completely justifiable anger, and my endless well of guilt.

Although we shared a deeper, more meaningful conversation the following week, I think both Giles and I knew from the start that whatever trust we had for each other was gone permanently. I could only hope that he would take to heart the advice Jenny Calendar asked me to pass along. If he ever does, then maybe, just maybe, he'll be able to start pulling the pieces of his shattered life back together.

But I digress, I was talking about the night with the VCR, wasn't I?

"Oh Willow, I'm sorry," I said as tenderly as I could manage. "I...uh, I had no cause to speak to you like that. It's just this...this *thing*..."

Piercing green eyes followed the direction of my waving hand to settle upon the gadget on the floor. It took only a second for her to take in the entire tableau -- the instruction manual open on the table, the time flashing repeatedly on the machine, and my petulant behavior. Putting all the pieces together, she turned to look at me.

"Problems?" Willow asked as her eyes danced with mischief and humor.

"Nothing that a sledgehammer wouldn't fix," I grumbled.

"Welcome to the twentieth century, Angel," she laughed. "You've now joined the other hundred million Americans who believe that it's always twelve o'clock."

I tried my best to hold a scowl on my face, but it was useless. In spite of my best efforts a small, self-derisive chuckle escaped me at my lack of electronic know-how. Still, I felt the need to defend myself.

"It's not my fault! The stupid instruction manual is all in Japanese!"

"Can I..." Willow trailed off, moving a hand in the direction of my personal albatross.

"Knock yourself out. Can I get you something to drink?" I offered as I moved towards the kitchen.

"That'd be great. Diet-whatever you have," she tossed absently as she set to work.

"You know," I called out conversationally, "I just hope my demon didn't take notes tonight. Otherwise, the next time I end up in hell, I'm gonna spend eternity being forced to set the clocks on an endless stream of unprogrammable VCR's. Now that would be sheer torture."

If I expected a chortle from the other room, I was sorely disappointed. In fact, the silence in my apartment was so unnatural, I felt compelled to poke my head out of the kitchen to see if everything was okay. Needless to say, it wasn't.

Willow was staring directly at me from her place on the floor. It was difficult to judge whether her reaction to my comment was one of shock or of horror. Either way, she remained motionless even as I hurried over to inquire what was wrong.

"Willow?" I asked quietly. When she didn't move I reached out to gently touch her arm. "Willow? What is it?"

"I...I'm n-not sure." From her puzzled expression, she clearly wasn't exaggerating her confusion. I was startled when her eyes lifted and gazed sharply into mine while a shudder tore through her body. "I guess I never really...thought about you going back there, but you...you're making jokes about it."

A sympathetic sigh escaped me as I gathered Willow into a comforting hug. Whether the comfort was for my benefit or for hers...well, let's just say that we both needed it at that moment. Willow made that fact perfectly clear when she threw her arms around my waist so tightly, I thought my rib cage would be in serious danger.

"Will," I answered softly, "I don't know if this is going to make sense, but I've *got* to joke about it, otherwise..."

"I think I get it," she interjected quickly. "Have you talked about it, I mean about...what happened...with... somebody, yet?"

Her voice was rife with hesitation, indicating her discomfort about the subject, and yet, there she was, offering to play therapist for me. Incredible. Simply, undeniably, incredible.

"I...uh...I don't think...I can. Yet, anyway." I whispered against the soft, silkiness of her hair.

"If and when you're ever ready, you know I'll be there to listen," she assured.

"Thank you," I said sincerely and squeezed her a little tighter before letting her go. Sensing that the topic was at an end, Willow refocused her attention on the VCR while I returned to the kitchen to fetch the soda I'd abandoned on the counter.

"So," Willow asked as I emerged, "why did you decide to get a VCR all of a sudden?"

"Well, my new issue of Vampire Quarterly came in the mail today. It said that all the trendy creatures of the night were getting them, and I didn't want to feel left out." Willow laughed, but I could see that she wasn't going to be satisfied with a flippant answer, so I added more. "Most of my books were ruined when my old apartment flooded, so I decided to catch up on the whole movie-phenomenon. I even got a 'Blockbuster' card tonight," I added with a purposefully over-exaggerated tone of pride.

"Not much of a movie-goer, are you?" Willow commented.

"Yeah, well, believe it or not, people tend to take notice of somebody sitting alone in a theater." My honest explanation brought a sad, sympathetic expression to Willow's face, as did any other reminder of just how solitary my existence normally was.

"Maybe we could go together sometime," Willow blurted. Then, as if realizing how her suggestion sounded, she utterly (but adorably) panicked. "I...uh...as friends, I mean. Like two friends hanging around...at home...but out..."

Taking pity on her nervous babbling, I interrupted with smile. "I'd really like that sometime. But what do you say that we break in this baby first?"

"Oh. Okay. Sure, we could do that." She agreed happily before adding a 'ta-da' at her success in programming the accurate time.

I gave her a jeer for showing me up, but she knew I wasn't being serious. Just as I'm certain she was well aware that my sudden interest in films wasn't completely brought on by the destruction of my book collection, although that was a contributing factor.

Abandoned after I reverted back to Angelus, almost everything I left behind in my old apartment was destroyed when a pipe burst and flooded the place. Of course, since I had been the only person living in the building, the damage went undetected for a week before a meter-reader took notice. By then it was already too late to salvage anything -- that is, if anybody had cared to try.

The apartment Willow and I were in was a new place. Well, new to me, anyway. Not wanting to overstay my welcome at Cordelia's, I left her parent's house as soon as I was physically able. I soon discovered, however, that I had no other place to go.

Although the damage to my old place was repairable, there were too many uncomfortable memories for me there. As the owner of the whole building, I seriously contemplated just razing the place and selling off the land, but that still left me temporarily homeless.

Once again, it was Willow who rode to my rescue. Upon hearing of my predicament, she mentioned that she'd seen a 'For Sale' sign on a converted warehouse near the place her werewolf-boyfriend and his band used to practice. A quick look at the place, and I knew I'd found my next apartment. As an old warehouse, it had few windows, lots of open space, and very few neighbors.

Willow accompanied me back to my previous home where, to my relief, I discovered one of the few things not left water-damaged by the burst pipe -- my hidden stash of money. I belayed Willow's unspoken question with a simple 'don't ask,' and was relieved when she didn't push for answers. The owner of the warehouse happily handed over the key when presented with a sizeable down payment in cash, and we'd left the formal stuff up to the lawyers.

Willow helped me with everything -- from darkening the windows with thick drapes and several coats of paint to making the rounds of second-hand stores to choose furniture. I know she thought I was nuts for not buying new things when I had the money to do so, but I was unable to find the right words to explain that I actually felt more comfortable with used possessions. Maybe it's my age, or perhaps it's the fact that even as a child, all of the furnishings in my parent's house had already been around for generations. Whatever the reason, it was my place and my money, and I decorated as I saw fit.

I found myself somewhat taken aback when Willow continued to come over after I completely moved into the warehouse. If not for her, I know that I would have spent my days and nights constantly brooding. As it was, a part of me felt guilty that I wasn't always feeling guilty -- if that makes any sense. Not that I didn't do my fair share of wallowing, but for some reason, it was more difficult to be angst-ridden whenever she was around me.

Oh, don't get me wrong, it wasn't as if we fell into suddenly being 'the bestest of friends.' Despite her actions to save me and my subsequent vow to protect her for the rest of her life, we still didn't really *know* each other that well. Granted, I'd always found her much easier to talk to than say, Buffy or Giles; but with her tendency to babble and my habit of not speaking at all, neither one of us would have won an award for our personal communication skills. So, without any decorating projects to distract us, we often fell into these long, uneasy silences while we both struggled to find something meaningful to say.

In this case, however, time was an ally. With each visit, we grew more and more comfortable around one another. That in turn helped both of us to find common ground. Although Willow was more open in the beginning, I was starting to confide in her about subjects I hadn't discussed with anyone in over two hundred years -- my childhood, my family, my past and present hopes and dreams.

It wasn't always peaches and cream, though. I actually sent her away from time to time, needing privacy to cope with the mental and emotional scars I'd accrued over the years. Also, certain subjects were still off-limits between us. With Willow, it was Xander and my relationship with Buffy. As for myself, well, let's just say that I wasn't quite ready to test the boundaries of our new, improved friendship by discussing anything that involved my actions as Angelus. And for some totally bizarre reason, we never, ever discussed the events encompassing my rescue from hell.

The point to all this (yes, believe it or not, there is one), is that I bought the VCR mostly for Willow. The way I figured it was that it would serve two purposes. First, it would provide a distraction for when those uncomfortable silences cropped up in our conversations. Secondly, and this is kind of embarrassing, I was still somewhat terrified that Willow would eventually stop coming by to visit. Having a VCR gave me an excuse to invite her to my place without seeming as if I was desperate for companionship. Sad, huh?

"So, did you decide to break in that new Blockbuster card?" She asked, interrupting my mental walkabout.

"Huh?" Wow, that was impressive.

"Did. You. Rent. Any. Movies?" She repeated with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

"Yes. I. Did." I mimicked, but I teasingly omitted telling her exactly *which* titles I'd rented.

"Angel," she scolded in a warning tone of voice.

"Come on, have a seat," I suggested as I reached behind the sofa to pull out three bags filled with tapes.

"Oh my God!" Willow exclaimed, wide-eyed at the plethora before her. "Did you actually leave any on the shelves?"

"Well, like I said, I have a lot of catching up to do. Go ahead and pick something."

"Um...what are you in the mood for: comedy, drama, western, chick-flick? Hmm, is it just me, or did you somehow skip over the horror aisle?" Willow commented with a grin when she noticed the obvious omission.

I rolled my eyes in lieu of a witty retort.

"I wonder what they would say if we told them that half those horror movies should be reclassified as 'documentaries,' especially here in Sunnydale," Willow suggested.

"Well, now that you mention it, maybe we should get them to move most of the vampire movies to the comedy section."

Still laughing at our own silliness, Willow perused the titles once more before making a selection and heading over to the television with it. Popping the tape in, she dimmed the lights before crossing back over to the couch. Plucking the remote control off the coffee table, Willow presented it to me with a dramatic flourish.

"As the proud owner, you should have the honors," she stated in mock-seriousness.

Aiming my best smile at her, I pressed the play button and settled back into the corner of the couch as an official warning graced the screen. Once Willow sat down, I held out my arm, inviting her to lean against me. I could see her hesitate momentarily, and her internal debate as she considered the offer. Finally, she flashed a small grin before snuggling up against me.

"So, what are we watching?" I asked, almost unaware that my hand was rubbing small circles against her back. Willow had left the box for the tape on the floor near the television.

"It's called 'The Shawshank Redemption.' It was nominated for Best Picture a couple of years ago. It's a drama about a man who gets sentenced to prison and how he struggles to keep his faith. Oh, and while he's there, he finds a really great friend. I think you'll like it."

Sighing in total contentment, I smiled. "I'm sure I will."

finis