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#6915

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Mon Nov 23, 2009 8:30 pm
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) 11/? FRAO/NC-17

flamingointh...

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Title: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Eleven)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Spike/Angel (mentions of Spike/Buffy and Willow/Tara)

Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (this chapter PG-13)

Summary: *Set during Season Six of BTVS and Season Three of A:tS* When Willow's addiction to magic destroys her relationship with Tara and results in grave injury to Dawn, Buffy decides that Willow's recovery will go better away from the Hellmouth.

Word Count: 3335

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the outrageously awesome Purplefeen.

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is a very radical re-imagining of a long ago trilogy of mine which began with a story called Tangled Web. This story will differ in innumerable ways from that series.

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Eleven)

“I promise you one thing, little guy. As long as I’m around, Willow will not be shopping for your wardrobe.” Cordelia finished changing Connor’s diaper – something Willow had never once done – and did up the snaps on the pants she’d bought for him. “There! Now you’re perfect.”

“If it means anything, Willow didn’t mean to…you know…get in the way.”

“What makes you think I think she’s in the way of anything?” Cordelia asked, trying to sound as if she didn’t give a damn as she turned to face Lorne. “Because that’s just silly. Willow? In my way?”

Lorne didn’t buy the bravado for a moment, but he admired it. The way Cordelia took it on the chin was something, that was for sure. There was the fashion sense, too, but the gumption was what pulled it all together. He supposed he understood Angel’s change of feelings – the guy was a misery magnet –but if Lorne were the one doing the choosing…

He went on as if Cordelia hadn’t said anything. “Fate is a strange thing. And it sure doesn’t make sense sometimes.” Right after that, though, he found he couldn’t say more. The truth was that he wasn’t feeling much better than Cordelia. He’d invested himself in the tight-knit little family they’d seemed to be becoming – seen himself as some sort of fairy godfather bringing Cordelia and Angel together – it would have been wonderful if things could have gone the way he’d…

But then she showed up and the universe turned inside out. No going back, though, no going back at all.

“I could have… you know…been really good for him. As a friend, I mean, because hey, who’d be interested in anything else with…I mean there’s that curse, and…” Cordelia’s voice trailed off. She was about as believable as she was going to be and one more word would wreck it, not that she thought Lorne believed her as it was.

No, Lorne didn’t believe her at all. “For what it’s worth,” he began, but there wasn’t anything to say after that. He walked over and wrapped his arms around Cordelia, letting her cry the few tears she’d allow herself when she wasn’t all alone. He felt honoured she gave them to him.

There was more he could have told her, but he knew it would hurt more than help. Telling Cordelia that Willow didn’t love Angel - might never love Angel - would just be another kick in the teeth. How would anyone feel knowing that something they would have cherished was being given to someone who didn’t even want it? And learning that this was all set in motion by the Powers That Be would probably not be much help in cheering her up either. It sure wasn’t doing much for Lorne.

“Someone’s going to appreciate you, Princess,” he said after a few moments; Cordelia’s heart ached as she thought of Doyle. Love was a very bad thing.

Willow knocked softly on the door to Angel’s room, not at all sure of her idea but determined to at least try. While she had to have doubts about the efficacy of any plan cobbled together during an hour’s hysterics – and while sleeping on it might be best – she knew she’d lose her nerve unless she did something right now, tonight, while her guilt over having what Spike wanted so much still pained her enough to make her brave.

Angel answered the door almost too quickly. Willow wasn’t quite ready to face him. “Angel. Uh…hi.”

It was obvious Willow had just washed her face before coming to see him, but Angel could still smell the tears she’d been shedding. Were they over Spike or over him? Which answer would best please him was a question he didn’t want answered. “Come in.” He stepped back from the doorway and gestured for her to enter. She did, wrapping her arms around herself once she’d settled on a place to stand. Seeing how nervous and uncomfortable she was, there was probably no point in offering, but…”Would you like to sit down?”

“Um…okay.” She sat down hastily on his couch, surprising him, before suddenly blurting out, “I’m going home. Tomorrow. As soon as I can rent a car.”

What? Just an hour or so earlier, she’d said she would stay at least long enough to sort things out. She’d given Angel hope – hope that he’d be able to convince her that here was where she belonged. But now… What could have happened? “Why?” he asked, not having any idea how to ask everything he wanted to ask.

“I just… I’m not a junkie. So that means I can go home. To my friends. To my life. To Tara.” She hoped those last two words didn’t sound as uncertain as she felt.

They might have. Angel sat down next to her – too close – looking skeptical and searching. Still, what he said was, “If that’s what you want.” She tried not to, but she flinched slightly as Angel reached out to stroke her cheek. “I’ll miss you. But if that’s what you feel you need to do...”

“It is.” His eyes were full of pain and she felt horrible. Everyone was hurting and she realized for the hundredth time that it was all her fault.

“So you and Spike will be going back tomorrow night then.”

Wait a minute… “Spike?” Willow hadn’t said anything about Spike, and for good reason – she was leaving him here. She figured that the two of them spending time together – as well as the fact that Spike being a vampire too meant that there wasn’t any danger of Angel forgetting what he was and losing his soul – would make Angel see Spike for who he was: an amazing man who’d changed and grown and was worth caring about, even loving. That was the plan, and it was a good one. But it only worked if Spike stayed in Los Angeles.

“You’re going back,” Angel replied. Why did Willow sound so confused? “You and Spike.”

“I… I kinda thought Spike should stay here. I mean, he’s been helping you and he really gets along better with everyone here than he does with everyone in Sunnydale and…” Her expression was pleading and desperate – so much so that Angel got it – the reason behind what she was doing. It was tragic, what she was willing to do for that oblivious bastard.

He’d been honest about his feelings for her; no reason he couldn’t be honest about the rest. “I don’t feel that way about him, Willow. In case you haven’t noticed, my heart’s already taken.”

What emboldened him to do what he did next, he’d never know – maybe it was the exclamation point to his statement, maybe he hoped that this gesture would convince her that she could come to care for him the way he did for her – but whatever the reason, he cupped her face in both his hands, leaned in…and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, nothing aggressive or passionate, but it was a kiss as full of emotion as any he’d ever shared with anyone. And if it wasn’t completely shared in this instance, it was no less sweet for all of it.

Willow was paralyzed as Angel kissed her. The guilt roared up within her – dripping talons fit to tear her to shreds. But… she couldn’t bring herself to end it, as much as it should have been Spike’s lips receiving it and not hers. She let Angel keep kissing her.

If she had lost herself in it, her mind wouldn’t have reached for the plan and reshaped it, but she didn’t and her mind did. “Angel?” she asked when his lips left hers, “If I stay… if I stay, can Spike stay, too?”

His hopes came close to dying completely, but he couldn’t allow them to be lost, so he held on tight with both hands as he answered, “Yes.”

She got up from the couch, wondering if she wasn’t making things worse than ever. But there was no going back. Loving Spike… it meant wanting him to have what he wanted, and what he wanted was Angel. This was the only way she could think of to get that for him. After all, Angel would have to realize someday that Spike was… perfect. It would just take time, that was all, time she was more than willing to buy for Spike with any coin she had.

“Thank you,” she said, her hand on the doorknob. Before she could leave, however…

Angel pulled her into his arms. This time the kiss was harder, needier. He’d try any argument he could think of to win her over. And in time – in time – she’d realize that Spike could never give her what she wanted, what she needed. Then she’d love Angel. She would. It would just take time. And if that meant letting Spike stay, then so be it.

“I know,” Dawn said, her voice choked with emotion. “We were all sure that this was gonna be nothing, you know? I didn’t think anything could get the best of Willow. I mean, she never…” She felt as if she was about to cry, but she couldn’t. Tara was sitting right across from her and besides, they were in a restaurant. Tears in public were bad, right?

Tara couldn’t think of anything to say. Girl’s night with Dawn – it was supposed to be a distraction, but neither of them had been able to stay off the topic of Willow for long. “Magic is… it-it’s not like anything else.” She’d been about to say it was dangerous, but she didn’t want to make the conversation more alarming than it was, though that was kind of silly, wasn’t it? Dawn knew just how dangerous magic was firsthand.

Dawn spoke as if Tara had said nothing. “I didn’t want to believe it, but after I talked to Cordelia...” Oops! Tara was staring at her all wide-eyed and curious now. When was Dawn going to learn to keep her mouth shut? First Anya, now Tara, although she guessed both of them had the right to know and it wasn’t as bad as if she’d accidentally slipped and told Buffy or something.

Those eyes – how could you not tell Tara what she wanted to know when she was looking at you all sad and pleading? “Xander doesn’t trust Angel, so he asked me to call Cordelia and see if she said the same stuff Angel did and… Cordelia confirmed it. Willow is…well, it’s like Angel said. But she did say one thing that was new. She said Spike’s been taking care of her, so that explains why he’s still there – and hey, at least it means she has a friend looking out for her, right?” Dawn tried to smile, hoping that last piece of information would soften the blow. It almost had for her.

Tara stared off into space, her mind in a fog. The recollection of what Cordelia had said weeks ago unnerved her. Maybe it was nothing, but… Why hadn’t Cordelia said anything about Willow’s condition then? Or simply made some polite excuse, seeing as how she didn’t know Tara? All of a sudden, the boyfriend remark took on greater significance, too, though Tara didn’t want to allow that to happen. Had Cordelia actually been more honest with a stranger than she had been with Dawn?

No, that wasn’t it at all. Willow would never… just because she’d dated guys before… This was Spike. Spike had tried to kill Willow more than once. Besides, he was in love with Buffy. Tara was just being foolish and paranoid, that was all – probably her mind’s odd way of trying to pretend that Willow wasn’t in such bad shape after all. Because wasn’t it more compassionate to want someone you loved not to be sick, no matter what the alternative was? That was it. That had to be it. Besides, it wasn’t as if Cordelia was the only source of the information. They’d heard it from Angel, too, and Angel wouldn’t lie – not to Buffy.

Things were as bad as Buffy had said, as painful as that was; Tara was just going to have to accept that.

Maybe it would help if she visited Willow. She would call and ask.

Clearing the mess from her thoughts, she focused on Dawn once more and smiled. “Yeah, that’s good. I’m glad Spike is there.” She took a sip from her soda and changed the subject. “So, what movie do you want to see?”

Guess she needed to unpack her suitcase, seeing as how she was staying. Willow tried to distract herself with the minutiae of putting shirts back on hangers and underwear back in the dresser but it didn’t work very well.

Angel had kissed her and, while she hadn’t exactly kissed him back, she hadn’t pushed him away either. And what was worse, she had to admit that on a certain level, she’d even enjoyed it. No, she didn’t feel that way about him, but she’d felt so rejected and lost for what seemed like an eternity that – yes – his kiss had been almost a blessing. She’d learned to crave touch with Tara – they’d been so physical, not just when it came to sex, but all day long: holding hands, hugging, reaching out to each other in dozens of small ways. That weakness and need didn’t make this okay, though; those were just excuses, flimsy alibis. Hadn’t Xander said once that making excuses was what addicts did? Guess they weren’t just for junkies anymore.

After a moment, she walked into the bathroom; there was a mirror over the sink and Willow needed to see herself almost desperately. Would she still look the same after what she’d just done, after kissing someone who wasn’t hers, after having made a devil’s bargain for reasons both clear and murky?

Funny, she looked like the same old Willow: straight red hair grown out too much from her last haircut; pale skin devoid of what little colour she’d gotten from all those walks in the sun she used to take with Tara; green eyes gone bloodshot and puffy from too little sleep and too many tears. But wait a minute – the lips…yes, those told a story, didn’t they? She stared at their reflection and could swear they bore the traces of misuse, told a story of guilt and treachery without having to part even once for a word to emerge.

How would she ever face her friends, the woman she once loved – still loved at least in some part of her heart? She’d have to do that, though, someday. Because someday Angel would realize that Spike was a far worthier object of his love than Willow had ever been and there’d be no need for her here anymore.

As much as she wanted that day to come, it was terrifying.

She decided to face it anyway.

Spike had done her the courtesy of letting him in on his plan; the least she could do was return the favour.

He hadn’t been in his room, but an exhaustive search finally led Willow to the one she sought. Spike was out in the garden, of all places. She could smell the whiskey almost before she saw him. It pained her to think of him needing to drink so much. “Hey,” she said softly, not wanting to startle him. How well were his senses working, after all?

“If it isn’t Little Red Riding Hood,” he said, more clearly than she’d expected.

“Not so much with the riding, or the hood for that matter,” she said nervously. “But the red part’s right.”

“Leave it to you to bring logic to this party.” The girl never changed, no matter what.

“You’re kinda drunk, aren’t you?” she asked, though he could tell it was only a question because she was so bloody polite.

“Not that bad off, pet. Tripped on one of these damn flagstones and spilt more on myself than in myself, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” That was a relief, really, because now she knew she could tell him what she was doing and he’d actually remember tomorrow. “That’s good, because I have something I sort of need to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re staying. I mean, not for just a week. We’re staying for awhile.” Her arms were wrapped around herself and she was chewing her bottom lip. The nervous energy she was giving off nearly made Spike twitch. Something was up.

“Care to clue a bloke in on the reason for that?”

She wanted to tell him – heck, she’d meant to tell him – but all of a sudden, she couldn’t figure out exactly how. Hurting his feelings would be terrible and she knew from recent experience that hurting people seemed to come naturally to her. “I… You remember when we were talking before? About…feelings and… I kind of realized that you…I mean…”

What in the name of all hell was she trying to say? “Is there a point being made here, Red? ‘Cause I’m not getting it.” Gathering up his duster and what was left of his whiskey, Spike stood up, ready to head back to his room where he could at least lock the door and drink in peace.

Spike’s impatience, while justified, didn’t make it any easier for Willow to say what she wanted to say as carefully as she wanted to say it, but he looked like he was going to walk away before she got a chance to sort it out, so she just opened her mouth and said, “I know you want Angel and we’re staying here to give him time to realize that he wants you, too.” At least she had managed not to use the word ‘love’.

The bottle of whiskey nearly slipped from his grasp before he righted himself and set it gently down. “That so?” he asked, not bothering to deny her characterization of his feelings.

He approached her and as he got closer, he caught the scent of his sire. Just what the hell had been going on tonight?

He must have uttered that last thought aloud, because Willow cowered slightly as he drew near. “I just went to talk to him and…I was gonna go back and leave you here, but…”

Willow hated herself immediately for her honesty. Spike looked as if he’d been slapped. “The Poof wouldn’t go for that, eh?”

“No, but…”

The closer he got to her, the more he smelled his sire. He hadn’t drunk nearly enough not to put two and two together and it tore him in half: jealousy on the one side and gratitude on the other.

“You let him touch you.”

“Yes.” Her voice was a barely audible whisper.

“For me?”

“Y-yes.” Her voice was even softer this time and no one but a demon could have heard it.

In a flash, she was in the arms of a vampire for the second time in an hour, Spike’s lips caressing hers. And if a part of her suddenly understood what Angel must have felt when kissing her, another part of her reveled in sharing a kiss with someone she desired. She knew why it was happening, but she didn’t think about that. Besides, gratitude was a good thing, right?

Willow’s lips still tasted of his sire and Spike almost groaned. For a moment, he thought of taking her back to her room and bedding her. She was warm and willing and eager and it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t enjoy her. But he couldn’t. She loved him, loved him enough to sacrifice everything for him. The most he could do without taking advantage was kiss her and give her some small measure of what she wanted but was willing to hand over to someone else. If love had any honour to it, Spike would feel at least some for Willow. But love wasn’t like that, now was it? Love wasn’t like that at all.

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

"Anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that 'my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.'" - Isaac Asimov

#6914

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Fri Nov 20, 2009 6:56 pm
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) 10/? FRAO/NC-17

flamingointh...

Offline

Title: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Ten)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Spike/Angel (mentions of Spike/Buffy and Willow/Tara)

Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (this chapter PG-13)

Summary: *Set during Season Six of BTVS and Season Three of A:tS* When Willow's addiction to magic destroys her relationship with Tara and results in grave injury to Dawn, Buffy decides that Willow's recovery will go better away from the Hellmouth.

Word Count: 3048

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the outrageously awesome Purplefeen.

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is a very radical re-imagining of a long ago trilogy of mine which began with a story called Tangled Web. This story will differ in innumerable ways from that series.

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Ten)

After her emotional encounter with Angel, Spike was the last person Willow wanted to talk to, but there were things he needed to know and if she postponed this, it would only get harder.

She knocked on his door.

Not nearly drunk enough off the one measly bottle of whiskey he’d consumed, Spike was debating whether he was in fit condition to get away with a shoplifting run to the nearby liquor store when the twin sounds of a knock and a familiar heartbeat halted his plans. Damn. He was pretty sure he was either too sober or not sober enough to deal with Red right now. He went to the door and opened it rather than just telling her to come in.

“Hey,” Willow said nervously as Spike opened the door. His eyes…he looked sad and Willow wondered why. Probably because she’d screwed up their plan. She fought the urge to reach out and hug him. He wouldn’t like that; he’d sure made his feelings for her clear during their abortive training session. Who knew what her current news would do to his mood? Would he be pleased or sorrier than ever?

“I…umm…Wesley told me some stuff just now that I figured you ought to know.” Nothing like cutting to the chase.

Spike stood aside and gestured for Willow to enter. Without having a clue what to say, he opted to just keep his mouth shut. Besides, if he knew the witch, she could talk enough for the both of them.

She waited – standing in the middle of the room and biting her lip as she fidgeted – but Spike didn’t so much as ask a single question. Guess she wasn’t really surprised by his lack of warmth now.

Back in the training room, when he’d been on top of her – it’s not like he couldn’t smell how she’d reacted. She knew about vampire senses. And then there’d been those tears and the look she knew had been in her eyes… It was so humiliating, but what made it worse was that it had ended their friendship. They hadn’t spoken since and even now he wasn’t actually speaking to her at all. He must really hate her.

“I’m sorry, okay?” She couldn’t stop the tears from coming to her eyes yet again. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be a sadist and force her to say just what she was apologizing for.

It had better be the alcohol that was causing Spike to feel so badly for the girl standing before him. Although maybe anyone would be moved at the sight of a woman apologizing for falling for them. If Willow was the sort of girl who got the odd, meaningless yen for someone or who’d ever been the one-night stand type, he’d feel so much better right now; at least then he could tell himself that her apology was a bit of melodrama and she’d be back snuggling happily with her low-watt-witch as soon as she got clean.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, speaking for the first time since she’d walked in. No point in telling her she had nothing to be sorry about; she took on more guilt than… No, Spike was not going to think about Angel.

“I… I found out something kind of cool tonight,” she began haltingly. “And it’s something that…” She hemmed and hawed, maybe because she still found it so hard to believe. “Wesley says I’m not a junkie after all. He talked to this coven and…what I thought - what we all thought – was withdrawal was really just some warning not to misuse my magic.”

Spike was in what might have been some kind of shock, if vampires were capable of that condition. The little witch wasn’t an addict after all; that should have been good news, really, but… She’d never needed to quit the magic cold turkey; she’d never needed to come to Los Angeles.

Without saying a word, he picked up the empty whiskey bottle from the floor and threw it against the far wall. “Bloody, buggering hell!” His cry almost drowned out the sound of glass shattering into thousands of pieces.

Whatever reaction Willow had expected, it wasn’t this one. She realized there had to be a lot more going on than just irritation at her having feelings for him. Was this because he’d been away from Buffy for no good reason? “I’m really sorry. Everyone thought…I mean, if I had any idea… But you’ll be seeing Buffy again soon and I promise I’ll do anything you say to make her realize what a great guy you are and…”

His eyes grew wide and scornful as he stared at her. What had she said that was so wrong?

“You think I’m angry about the bloody Slayer?” His voice was loud and cruel and he didn’t care. There she stood, trembling and fearful with those wide, innocent eyes…and the worst part? She was innocent. Stupid, clueless bint had no idea that she was the catalyst for his whole unlife collapsing into ruin. Bet she didn’t even know she had something Spike wanted – that was how little she cared about what Spike longed for enough to nearly drown himself in whiskey to escape the pain.

And no, there was nothing ironic or fitting about the fact that he was hoist by the same petard that she was.

“I…” Frozen by the rage even she could almost feel pouring off of him, Willow’s tongue refused to work any longer.

A few seconds later, Spike grew rational again. He should be angry about the Slayer, or more accurately, he should be angry at the stupid bitch. She was the one who’d set this whole thing in motion. Willow hadn’t wanted to come here at all. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Not your fault, Red.” He almost meant it.

Willow still wasn’t sure exactly what he had become so furious about, but it wasn’t as if she was going to ask him any questions. She decided to just tell him the rest and then get out. “I’m…I’m sorta thinking that I’m gonna stay here for a little while longer, just a week at the most, get my…you know, get myself together.” What she meant,of course, was ‘figure out how to face Tara’. “Is that okay? I mean, if you want to leave tonight or… I’ll do whatever you say, okay?” No point in talking to him about her concerns about how to explain what she’d learned about her magic to her friends; she was pretty sure he didn’t care. The anger she wasn’t sure was gone set her to shaking and her teeth were this close to chattering. It had been a long time since she’d been afraid of Spike. Sadly, she didn’t love him any less because of the fear.

He was almost furious with her again. Here she was exuding fear in fragrant draughts and he couldn’t even enjoy it. Damn her. He reined in his temper and asked casually, “Does Peaches know about these plans of yours?”

“Yeah. He says I can stay here as long as I want.”

‘I’. Did she realize that one single word nearly put a stake through Spike’s heart? Not the least of which because he knew that Angel had indeed offered Willow alone an open-ended invitation. Not Spike – no, Spike was just some nuisance whose presence was tolerated for Willow’s sake.

She kept talking, oblivious to the pain she’d inflicted. “I’m not going to stay here for more than a week though. I don’t want to be a burden, you know?”

The ache in his gut made him cruel. “So your desire to head home so soon has nothing to do with Angel being in love with you?” He’d thought he would be delivering a shock to her. If he had, it was nothing compared to the one he got.

“You know?” Willow shook again. This was bad, so bad. What if other people knew, too? What if someone told Buffy?

Struggling to maintain a nonchalant façade, Spike said, “Not too hard to figure out. Bit surprised you did, though.” He’d meant to insult her, but it didn’t hit the mark.

“He kind of…he kind of told me tonight.” She left out the part where she’d sort of suspected it before – that was too closely tied to the humiliation of Spike discovering her own hopeless feelings for him.

“Bet that was a touching moment.” Spike couldn’t keep the sarcasm and resentment out of his voice.

And now Willow was more confused than ever. Spike clearly had no feelings for her, so why did he seem so bothered that Angel did? She stumbled through the words in her head, trying to find some to say that would get things back on track. “I never expected it. I mean, you have to admit it’s pretty unexpected. I still don’t really think…I mean because what Angel feels for Buffy – that's a forever thing" - Oh no! What a stupid thing to say! - "Not that I don't think you can win her over, I just meant him and...”

Maybe there was just this much excess whiskey left in Spike’s system, but the mention of Buffy yet again… it was too much. No one had any right to be so bloody naïve. His ire made him explode in an ill-advised outburst. “You think the whole bloody world revolves around that bitch, don’t you? Even with Angel handing you his worthless heart on a plate like some nancy boy, you think that it’s all about Buffy and no one else.”

Willow wasn’t normally quick on the uptake about people and feelings and such. It had taken Xander and Cordelia nearly mating in front of her to clue her in to their relationship, after all. But now – maybe life experience had finally taken effect, or maybe her own luckless passion for Spike along with Angel’s for her made her more perceptive of nuances. Whatever it was – Spike’s words – the anger that had seemed so random and inappropriate and senseless – she finally got it…finally got it. Reality hit her with the force of the car crash the night she’d almost killed Dawn. She felt just as terrible, too.

Oh God. “I’m…I’m sorry,” she choked out in a hoarse whisper. “Spike, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Without waiting for him to be even angrier than before, Willow ran from the room.

Spike was in love with Angel…who claimed to be in love with her.

She barely made it to her own quarters before bursting into tears. She was a bad person and she hurt people – and she couldn’t even blame it on addiction anymore. What was she going to do now?

Seeing as how Buffy bit the bullet and spilled the beans to Tara (Was that what you call a mixed metaphor? Xander sure wished Willow was here so he could ask her), Xander decided that there was no time like the present to let himself in for a world of hurt and tell Anya about the phone call.

“An?” he began. “Remember the other day when I was watching Dawn?”

“You mean when you asked her to call Cordelia?”

Oh God. Anya knew? “You know about…?”

“Yes, Dawn told me. Of course, she didn’t mean to tell me, but you know how she is – she said something and then I made her tell me what she meant, so yes, I know.”

And again: Oh God. “Are you mad?” Xander was struggling against the urge to cower.

“I was at first, but then I realized you didn’t actually speak to Cordelia and I’m sure there isn’t anything going on between you and her. So I suppose I forgive you, even though you should have asked me first.”

Relief was nowhere near a strong enough word for what he was feeling but Xander supposed it would do. He pulled Anya into a hug. “I love you.”

If he kept on saying those words, Anya supposed she might forgive Xander for anything, not that she was ever going to tell him that. “I love you, too.”

She was very grateful that he’d finally admitted to the phone call because this meant that now she could tell him what she’d been thinking. Pausing for several seconds so that Xander would understand that this was something very important and insightful, Anya finally said what she’d been longing to say for days, “I think they’re lying.”

Xander was so caught up in his relief at Anya’s forgiveness that he’d actually forgotten what he’d been worried she’d be angry about to begin with. “Who’s lying? What about?”

Anya heaved a dramatic and exasperated sigh. While she loved Xander very much, he could be maddening sometimes. “Angel and Cordelia. I think they’re lying. In fact, I know they’re lying.”

Xander stared at her, but he didn’t interrupt and that was good. Anya had a speech prepared and interruptions could sidetrack her. “Think about it. Cordelia hates Willow. We both know there’s no chance she forgave her for stealing you. I wouldn’t and I’m a much better person than she is. So how come she didn’t try to encourage Dawn to convince Buffy to bring her home? There’s only one reason I can think of. Money. She works for Angel and if she wants to keep making money she has to do what Angel says. And what Angel told her to do was to say…”

“That Willow’s in terrible shape.” Xander felt like he was breathing again. While there were certain aspects of Anya’s logic he might argue with, there was no denying that the basics were right on target. What shamed him was that he hadn’t thought of any of this for himself. Still, one thing bothered him. As much as he could believe anything of Angel, he still sort of figured the undead creep did things for a reason, so…”Why do you think he wants us to think Willow isn’t recovering?”

Another heavy sigh from Anya. Did she have to think of everything? Wasn’t it enough that she’d figured out that Angel wasn’t telling them the truth? Marriage was supposed to be an equal partnership – all her magazines said so – and Xander was just not pulling his weight. She sighed again and set to thinking.

After a moment, she gave up. Okay, maybe she hadn’t been fair to Xander. Perhaps he’d tried after all, because she was trying and she wasn’t coming up with any answer either. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “But that doesn’t mean he isn’t lying.”

There was no arguing with that, and Xander didn’t. “No, it doesn’t.” He still wished he had a clue what Deadboy’s reason was, though.

They both stayed silent for awhile. Xander figured they were both hard at work on answering the motive question. Then Anya said something surprising – and again it was something so simple that he should have thought of it himself. “Why don’t we just drive to L.A. and see what’s going on for ourselves?”

Xander’s jaw dropped, doing half of what it needed to do to form the word ‘yes’, which he had fully intended to do when his brain did something very annoying – it started to work. He was having thoughts and it sucked. “What’s Buffy going to say? You know this whole ‘shipping Willow off’ thing was her idea and there’s no way she’s going to believe that her precious Angel would lie to her.”

Anya didn’t sigh this time. After all, Xander’s question was a good one and it wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t figured out the answer the way she had. “We don’t tell her.” Before he could cut her off, she skipped the pause for effect and finished her idea. “I tell Buffy there’s something I have to have for the wedding and I need you to go with me to San Francisco to get it. That explains why both of us are going and she’ll think we’re at the other end of the state from where we really are.”

If Xander had any doubts before, he didn’t now – Anya was the best girlfriend (fiancée) ever. “Have I ever told you that you are incredibly smart?” It struck him suddenly that she was expressing a great deal of non-jealous concern for his best friend, as well. Better do something about that also. “Thanks, An. I mean, I know you don’t always feel comfortable about…”

“Other women?” she interjected. “It’s okay. Willow doesn’t like penises anymore and since Cordelia’s a liar… Besides, I realized something: You’re marrying me, me, and that means something. It’s not like you’re doing it for sex, after all, because I already give you sex. Lots of sex. And very good sex, too.” Xander nodded emphatically in the affirmative. “So you must love me or you wouldn’t marry me and so I don’t need to worry about other women.”

She hugged him again before continuing. “You know,” she said, her expression and tone now human and vulnerable, “I’m worried about Willow, too. I never thought sending her away was a good idea.”

“No, you didn’t,” he agreed, not bothering to add that he hadn’t either.

“So it’s all settled, right?” She was all business again. “We’ll tell everyone that we’re going to San Francisco to look at whatever it is I think of that we need to get and as soon as I can arrange for Buffy and Tara to watch the shop, we’ll really drive to Los Angeles.” Xander was about to argue about whether that could be managed, but Anya caught his drift and waved him off. “I’ll make them do it, don’t worry. We’ll be there in just a couple of days at most, I promise. You know, Buffy and Tara really owe us this since it’s their fault we have to go rescue Willow in the first place.”

Try as he might, Xander couldn’t make himself see any holes in Anya’s argument there. He might hate himself for it sometimes, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t blamed both women more than once for Willow’s decline and fall, not to mention her exile. “I love you, An.” His voice was low and reverent and Anya smiled at him.

“I know.” There was that soft face again. “But I like hearing you say it.” She let him pull her into his arms and they stayed that way for a long while.

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6913

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Mon Nov 16, 2009 6:54 pm
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) 9/? FRAO/NC-17

flamingointh...

Offline

Title: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Nine)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Spike/Angel (mentions of Spike/Buffy and Willow/Tara)

Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (this chapter PG-13)

Summary: *Set during Season Six of BTVS and Season Three of A:tS* When Willow's addiction to magic destroys her relationship with Tara and results in grave injury to Dawn, Buffy decides that Willow's recovery will go better away from the Hellmouth.

Word Count: 2798

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the outrageously awesome Purplefeen.

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is a very radical re-imagining of a long ago trilogy of mine which began with a story called Tangled Web. This story will differ in innumerable ways from that series.

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Nine)

It was time for the usual post-game wrap-up in the Magic Box.

“Thanks,” Buffy said, pulling Tara into a warm and very heartfelt hug. After all, going from murderess to victim of a frame job with just a little bit of magic to reveal the truth was a pretty terrific thing. “You know, those guys weren’t nearly as evil back in high school.”

“Well, you did have to talk Jonathan down from the tower when he was holed up there with a rifle that one time,” Xander interjected.

He had a point, Buffy acknowledged, her thoughts going dark and serious. It seemed as though people changed in the blink of an eye, but maybe they didn’t. Maybe there were always signs you should have seen – moments that were like a preview of coming attractions. Had there been some for Willow?

Had there been at least one for Buffy?

“Can we go talk in the back?” she asked Tara. It was about time she shared what Angel had told her about Willow.

Xander exchanged a glance with Anya. Guess Buffy was done expecting them to do her dirty work and was no longer waiting for them to tell Tara the truth about Willow.

Okay, maybe that was a little bit harsh, but Xander was still struggling to deal with it himself and he wasn’t up to helping Tara cope as well. And then there was the matter of telling Anya about the call he’d had Dawn make to Cordelia. Nope, he wasn’t signing on for further missions; he had his own pain on the home front to deal with.

Tara nervously followed Buffy to the back of the store. Private talks with Buffy – they had a tendency to be not so good. There had been that one about sending Willow to Los Angeles…

“W-what did you want to talk to me about?” Tara asked almost as soon as they’d entered the training room.

“It’s…wow. This isn’t easy,” Buffy said, stalling and looking everywhere but at Tara. “I just…”

Figuring she knew what Buffy was so worried about asking, Tara cut her off. She was almost impossibly glad to be talking about this and not about Willow. “I-I’ve double checked everything. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

There wasn’t? Buffy let herself get distracted for a moment. “Then how come Spike could hurt me?”

“Well, I said there was nothing wrong with you, but…you are different. Shifting you out…f-f-from where you were…funneling your essence back into your body…i-it, it altered you on a basic molecular level. Probably just enough to confuse the sensors or whatever in Spike’s chip. But it’s all just surface-y physical stuff. It wouldn’t have any more effect than…a bad sunburn.”

“I didn’t come back wrong?” How could that be? Buffy didn’t feel like herself. She didn’t feel like herself at all.

“No, you’re the same Buffy. With a deep tropic cellular tan.” Tara smiled and took Buffy’s hand, wondering why she still looked so depressed. “Th-that’s good news, right?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said, still full of doubt but knowing that all she was doing was distracting herself and postponing the inevitable. “It’s…look, I really appreciate you looking into this for me and…but I didn’t actually bring you back here to talk about me.”

Tara’s face fell. This wasn’t going to be good, was it? “Is…is this about Willow?”

“I’m afraid so. I…I talked to Angel a couple of days ago and…I…there’s no good way to say this: Willow…she’s not getting much better. I mean, she’s trying and Angel says she’s staying off the magic and they’re still trying to find some kind of expert to help, but…”

After that, all Tara could see were Buffy’s lips moving. She could feel her own hand turn cold and clammy against the warmth of Buffy’s skin and there was a roaring in her ears that drowned out every other sound.

The next thing she knew, she was sitting in a chair. How had she gotten here?

“Are you okay? Tara?” Buffy’s voice was faint and seemed very far away. But not as far as Willow – no, not anywhere near as far as Willow. Tara wasn’t okay. Leaning forward and covering her face with her hands, she burst into tears. Later, she’d remember that Buffy put her arms around her, but she didn’t notice now.

Willow slunk down the stairs, feeling for all the world as if she were doing something clandestine. In a way, she was. After all, she was trying desperately to avoid both Spike and Angel. She could have stayed in her room, of course, but she’d gotten hungry. She only hoped neither of them happened to be in the kitchen.

Luck seemed to be with her, so she hurriedly rooted through the fridge, finding the makings of a roast beef sandwich and some kosher pickles. It was strange how even though she didn't really think of herself as Jewish anymore, she still had a ‘thing’ about kosher food. Maybe not so strange; she’d always been the sentimental type – clinging onto fond relics of the past as if they were priceless treasure. To her, they were, even when all they were was a word on a jar label.

Finishing the preparation of her sandwich and adding the pickles to the plate, Willow prepared to take it back to her room, she turned around and…

“Oh Goddess! Wesley, you scared me!” Willow dropped her plate, scattering food all over the floor. It took her a moment to register relief that at least the dish was plastic and therefore unbreakable. Her meal, however, was a lost cause.

“I’m so sorry,” Wesley said, immediately kneeling down to help clear the sandwich contents from the floor. “I was about to say something when you turned ‘round. Do forgive me.”

Willow concentrated on catching here breath. At least he wasn’t Angel or Spike. “It’s okay,” she said, even as she mourned her sandwich all the way to the trash can.

“I’ve wanted to speak to you all day and I am glad of this opportunity,” Wesley said out of nowhere.

Willow wanted to ask why he hadn’t knocked on her door – after all, he’d done so before – but Wesley was someone she didn’t know well enough to feel comfortable asking nearly any questions of. As he’d said last time they talked, this wasn’t Sunnydale. He was no longer the…well…doofus she’d looked down on. He was someone else and she had no idea how to talk to him. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked at last, hoping it was safe.

“It’s about... It’s about your magic.” Oh no. Maybe there was a reason he was so reluctant to approach her. Before she could say anything, though, he spoke again. “I spoke to a contact today, a woman I’ve been hoping to reach for some time. She…she had some very interesting things to say about your case.”

Interesting. That was usually not a good word. “W-what did she say?”

“Well, after I provided her with the details as I knew them – and I must admit that Angel did share your concerns about your withdrawal, or rather the lack thereof, which I passed on as well – she…she sought counsel and when she called me back,” Willow braced herself for the worst, “she informed me that your case was not one of magical addiction at all.”

Huh? “But… does she know that I did have withdrawal back in Sunnydale? And… did Buffy tell you about Rack?”

“Yes,” Wesley said gently. “She did. But according to Alana,” Willow stared for a moment before she realized that must be the name of his contact, “your symptoms were…well…a warning.” He sounded almost fatherly when he continued. “Your power is natural. It’s a part of you. Alana…her coven…they know of you. You went through what you did because you misused your gift. But you were never meant to renounce the use of magic. You have a destiny, to fight on the side of right – that’s what your powers are for. Which, of course, explains why you felt nothing after using your skills to protect Connor and all of us. That reminds me – I don’t believe I’ve thanked you properly for guarding my life. I am very grateful and I…I thank you.”

It was all so much to digest that she couldn’t even register Wesley’s thanks. She wasn’t supposed to be the one with the destiny; that was Buffy, just Buffy. The idea that she, too, was someone important, someone who mattered, not just an upstart with delusions of grandeur… Could it be true? Was magic her gift and not someone else’s coat she’d been wearing? There were tears in her eyes when she finally answered Wesley. “You’re welcome,” she said. The pause had been so long it took Wesley a few seconds to put two and two together.

“It was quite a fortunate thing, your being with us.” He seemed about to say more on the subject when they were joined by a third party. “Angel. I was just…”

“Would you leave us alone, please?” Angel’s eyes were fixed on Willow even as he clearly addressed Wesley. He’d come down here for blood, but finding Willow… They needed to talk. Last night was something that needed to be dealt with.

“Yes, of course,” Wesley said. He was offended about being dealt with so summarily, but he chose not to make an issue of it. His relationship with Angel had not exactly been warm lately and there was no good to be gained from exacerbating the tension. There was a look in Willow’s eye that seemed to ask him to stay, but while it gave him pause, he exited the kitchen.

Great. Thanks, Wesley. That’s gratitude for you. Her mind was already reeling from what he’d told her about her magic and now…now he left her all alone with Angel. “So, what brings you here?” she asked, trying to smile and act as if there was no awkwardness between them. It didn’t work, but at least she tried.

“Willow, we…”

“Did Wesley tell you?” Willow was so desperate to avoid this conversation that she was more than willing to discuss the very confusing things she’d just learned about her magic instead. “It looks like maybe I’m not a junkie after all.”

“No…I…” Angel decided to let Willow change the subject. This was important and something he definitely wanted to hear about. “How did he come to that conclusion?”

“He talked to someone – I think he said her name was Alana – and she’s with some coven and I guess they know about me somehow and she said that what I went through with withdrawal in Sunnydale was because I misused my magic.” The words came out in a rush, Willow’s nerves wreaking havoc with her delivery, but she hoped Angel got the gist of it. Or hey, maybe he didn’t and she’d have to explain it again. That might be more distracting and thus better suited to helping her avoid that other conversation – the one she didn’t want to have.

“I see,” Angel said. And he did. It made sense – so much more sense than Willow as some sort of addict. But he wished – oh how he wished – that Wesley hadn’t told her. Would this mean she would be packing for Sunnydale? Leaving Los Angeles? Leaving him? He pushed any concerns about the repercussions of the lies he’d told out of his mind for now. After all, Willow’s absence from his life would trump any consequences he might face.

All sorts of thoughts were running through Willow’s mind. Angel didn’t seem the least bit confused, but on the other hand, he wasn’t saying anything, so maybe that was just as good. The ramifications of what Wesley told her were just beginning to emerge into her awareness and they left her feeling more lost and tangled up than ever.

She wasn’t a junkie. She could go home. But…

As much as she didn’t want to deal with her feelings for Spike or Angel’s possible feelings for her, she couldn’t go back to Sunnydale without doing just that. How could she face Tara? Or Buffy? Or anyone, really? And what about how to explain to them what she’d learned? How would they deal with that? Would they even believe her? Or Wesley for that matter? After all, Buffy and Xander only knew him as the barely competent buffoon they’d known years ago. They hadn’t had the chance to meet the very different man Willow was beginning to realize he was today.

No, she wasn’t ready to go back. But she was afraid to stay. What kind of a position was that to be in?

“Are you going back?” Angel’s voice may have been soft, but the words were so attuned to what she was thinking that Willow couldn’t help but hear them.

“Do you want me to?” She wanted him to say yes. She wanted him to say no.

“I think you know what the answer to that is.” His eyes were deep and full of meaning and Willow couldn’t hide behind words like ‘possible’ anymore. It would be so easy to hate him right now. She might if she didn’t know how impossible it was to stop yourself from caring about the most wrong of wrong people.

“Angel, I… I want to stay, just for a while, while I get things figured out, but…”

“You don’t feel the same way I do.” He’d said it out loud. That was as frightening as anything but losing Connor…or Willow. “I know.” He wanted to add ‘but you could someday’. While he didn’t, he let the words linger in his hopes, though he knew how little it would matter if she did.

“No,” she said, walking to him and taking his hand. “I’m sorry. I never thought…” Her eyes were full of tears and she couldn’t say anything more. Angel took her in his arms and held her close. There were no secrets between them now. Maybe that was a good thing.

The City of Angels. Bloody hell, if there was more than one of him… Spike took another drag from his cigarette, not giving a damn about Angel’s stupid ‘no smoking’ rules. Not like he could go outside and take a smoke break in the sun, now could he.

Why in the name of all that was unholy had Spike let that stupid bitch talk him into this? Just how much of his brain had he spilled inside that tight little body of hers? A bit of quivering lip and a few tears and hi ho, Spike’s taking the little witch to Los Angeles. Los Angeles – the place where dreams come true, right? Oh, and Spike had dreams, now didn’t he? Dreams of bringing a Slayer bitch to heel, making her crawl and beg, whine and plead.

Who was the bitch now?

For the life of him, Spike couldn’t understand it. He had been just fine for decades. Hadn’t missed the bastard he once called ‘sire’ at all. He hadn’t. Okay, maybe when Angelus had been around that last time, it had stung a bit that they hadn’t shared so much as a single nostalgic snog, but give a vampire a break – he’d been horny as anything what with Dru not tending to his needs since the day that damn organ had landed on him and Angelus had always been one hell of a shag. But it hadn’t meant anything, not anything at all. And as for Angel… he’d never fancied the souled prat. Who would? Well, besides Buffy.

So what the hell had happened? How had Angel somehow…not that… Bugger it. Denial wasn’t working anymore, whiskey wasn’t working anymore, nothing was working anymore.

Except for the blasted chip, of course.

Maybe that was it, maybe that stupid piece of man-made torture was to blame for it all.

If only it were that easy…if only… Not as if the chip explained Red getting all het up about him. Damn it, why had she gone and been so bloody stupid? It made everything worse, as if things weren’t as dead awful as they could possibly be already. And no, he was not shouldering the blame, even if it was all because of that plan of his. The plan…oh that brilliant plan. Now that he was going to hold to the account of that wretched chip – which meant that nothing was his fault after all, right?

Spike took a final drag from the cigarette and stubbed it out in the old relic of an ashtray he’d found in one of the other rooms. He headed for the closet. One bottle left. Whiskey would have one more chance to get it right, but after that…

He’d give it another chance.

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6912

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Fri Nov 13, 2009 6:33 pm
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) 8/? FRAO/NC-17

flamingointh...

Offline

Title: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Eight)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Spike/Angel (mentions of Spike/Buffy and Willow/Tara)

Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (this chapter PG-13)

Summary: *Set during Season Six of BTVS and Season Three of A:tS* When Willow's addiction to magic destroys her relationship with Tara and results in grave injury to Dawn, Buffy decides that Willow's recovery will go better away from the Hellmouth.

Word Count: 3416

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the outrageously awesome Purplefeen.

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is a very radical re-imagining of a long ago trilogy of mine which began with a story called Tangled Web. This story will differ in innumerable ways from that series.

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Eight)

“So you want me to call Cordelia, ask her about Willow, and above all not tell Buffy?” As much as she knew it was wrong to keep secrets from her sister, a part of Dawn was excited that Xander trusted her to do this. This was kind of like espionage! Okay, espionage was probably the wrong word, but it was secret agent/superspy kind of stuff; Dawn knew that. “Are you sure she’ll talk to me?”

“If there’s one thing I’m pretty sure hasn’t changed about Cordy, it’s that she likes to talk – especially if she doesn’t like who she’s talking about.”

“But we haven’t talked in years and…” The next words were spoken haltingly. Dawn hated to think about… “It’s not like we ever really have talked to each other.” It felt so good when Xander pulled her into a hug.

“You’re real, Dawn,” Xander whispered against her hair. “You’re real and Cordelia really did say you were ‘all the fashion victim and none of the homicidal maniac’ that Buffy was that day at the mall when you were twelve and you really did throw soda all over her. I remember it. It’s real.” And it was. Memories were sacred things. Sometimes they were all that remained of someone, like Jesse, whose body wasn’t in the coffin buried in Restfield Cemetery. Dawn wasn’t any less real than Jesse just because the first day Xander met her had never been anything but a memory.

After another moment, Xander let go. “Didn’t Buffy already talk to Angel?” Dawn asked. “Why do you need me to talk to Cordelia?”

As if this needed an explanation. Xander didn’t trust Angel as far as he could throw him. When he’d spoken to Willow, she hadn’t sounded so incapacitated that she couldn’t leave her room. And the girl who answered the phone didn’t say anything about seeing if Willow was able to talk; she just went and got her. Something was fishy – bad fishy like the last time his mother had tried to fry some trout. “Look, I know Buffy thinks Angel is this great guy who would never lie to her but…”

“You don’t trust him,” Dawn finished. “I guess that makes sense.” Dawn stood lost in thought for a few seconds before her eyes shot wide. “Oh my God! You don’t think something’s happened to Willow and Angel’s covering it up, do you? What if she’s hurt? What if she…?”

Xander put his hand over her mouth. No way was he letting that last word be spoken. Willow wasn’t…she just wasn’t. He’d know if that had happened. He’d have felt his guts being ripped out of him if it had. “I don’t think it’s anything like that.” He hadn’t anyway. Now that Dawn had raised those possibilities, he had no idea what he thought. “I just think things aren’t the way Deadboy says they are, that’s all.”

Dawn giggled at Xander’s nickname for Angel. She’d never said this to Buffy, but she didn’t think much of Angel either. She remembered him as being really broody and boring and she never could understand what Buffy saw in him – and after he lost his soul? Scary!

“Okay. I’ll call.” Something suddenly occurred to her. “How come you don’t call Cordelia yourself?”

Xander hemmed and hawed for a moment, not wanting to admit that he wasn’t the dominant partner in his relationship, but finally he had to tell the truth. “Anya ordered me not to speak to her.”

Once more, Dawn giggled, but she quickly stifled it, not wanting to hurt Xander’s feelings. He was entrusting her with a secret mission and he deserved some respect. Besides, it was so sweet of him to obey Anya even when there was no chance she’d ever find out if he hadn’t.

Dawn stepped over to the table where the phone sat looking ominous to eyes now filled with visions of drama and uncovering dark deeds in Los Angeles. Xander recited the number as Dawn punched the keys on the phone.

One ring, two rings, three rings, and then…

“Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless.”

Yippee! It was Cordelia! Dawn had been terrified that Angel would answer and she’d have to make up some story to get to talk to who she wanted to. “Hi, Cordelia.”

Dawn Summers. Boy was Cordelia ever not excited to hear her voice. But there was one good thing about the giddy teen; she got right to the point without even waiting to be asked. “I was wondering… how’s Willow doing?” Of course, that was also a bad thing as well.

What Cordelia wanted to do was tell the truth, or at least go get Willow and let Dawn hear for herself that Willow was, at least from Cordelia’s perspective, absolutely fine. Unfortunately, doing so…that would be a bad thing to do. As much as she wanted to believe that everything they’d been through together had – as it should have – forged an unbreakable bond between her and Angel, Cordelia Chase was nowhere near that stupid. If Angel was willing to lie to Buffy to keep her here, Willow…meant something to him – something Cordelia hated her for meaning, as much as she didn’t want to admit it.

But there wasn’t anything she could do except suck it up and do what Angel asked (ordered) her to do – back up his lies. After all, it wouldn’t do Cordelia any good to have destroyed her relationship with Angel before he had a chance to come to his senses. “Willow? She’s…” She hesitated, wondering what approach to take. Oddly, that in itself seemed to be the right approach.

“Buffy talked to Angel and…”

“Oh. Then I guess he told her that Willow’s all junkied-out. Why did you need to ask me about her?”

Dawn almost crumbled. This was exactly what she didn’t want to hear, what for sure she didn’t want to have to tell Xander. Angel hadn’t lied. Willow was in bad shape.

She needed to answer Cordelia though and she tried to sound credible when she said, “I was just kind of hoping, you know, that maybe she’d gotten better. I mean, you hear about it all the time, people being really sick and then the next day, poof, they’re all healthy and bouncing around and…”

“Yeah, well, believe me, you’ll know when that happens. The minute Willow kicks this stupid addiction thing, she’ll be on her way home.”

“Is…is Spike there?”

That was almost too much temptation. Oh how Cordelia longed to drop some hints about Sid Not-So-Vicious and his sickening fawning over Willow, but she feared that it, too, would risk Angel’s wrath. Instead, she just followed orders and made sure no one spoke to Spike either. “He’s pretty much appointed himself Willow’s nursemaid, so he’s up there holding her hair back, no doubt.”

“Oh,” Dawn said. Spike’s absence was something she felt at least as keenly as Willow’s and it hurt that he hadn’t come home – or even called. But she supposed if he was busy taking care of Willow, that was kind of a good excuse, right? “Tell him I called, okay? And Willow, too.”

“Fine,” Cordelia said tersely. “Goodbye.” She hung up. Taking deep breaths, she wondered how she’d become this desperate woman. She got out her compact and stared anxiously into its small mirror. The face she saw looked as beautiful as it always did. It just didn’t feel like hers anymore. No one who looked like that could be as pathetic as she was right now.

One more reason to hate Willow.

Dawn hung up the phone, wondering how much Xander had figured out from her end of the conversation. A lot, if the look on his face told her anything. He looked like someone had run over his dog. Well, he didn’t actually have a dog, but if he did, and if it got run over, he’d look like… Focus, Dawn. “Umm… I guess this time Angel was…”

“Telling the truth. Yeah, I got that.” She didn’t think Xander had ever sounded so sad and lost.

“But he told Buffy that…”

“Experts. Help. Blah-blah-blah. Yeah, Dawn, I know all that, okay?” Xander snapped at her. He just snapped at her. Xander never snapped at her. She’d been close to crying anyway, but this pushed her over the edge.

Xander felt awful the minute the harsh rebuke left his mouth. This wasn’t Dawn’s fault. “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling Dawn into another hug. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” He could feel her forgiveness in the way her arms wrapped around him.

“It’s okay.”

Xander let go and patted her shoulder. “No, it’s not. I mean, I’m upset and I have good reason to be, but there’s no good reason for being mean to you. I think there’s some saying about shooting someone that fits here.”

Dawn giggled, not sure if Xander really didn’t know the saying or if he was just pretending not to know, the way he sometimes did. Either way, it was kinda funny and any amount of funny was a good thing right now. “Spike’s taking care of her,” she said, hoping that would cheer Xander up a little. He might not like Spike, but he didn’t hate him as much as he hated Angel.

“Oh goody. I feel so much better knowing that the vampire who tried to kill her twice is playing nursemaid to my best friend.”

This time, Dawn burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” Dawn struggled to catch her breath. “You and Cordelia said the same thing. I mean about Spike playing nursemaid. It’s funny that you guys talk alike.”

Xander would have liked to be able to laugh, too, but he couldn’t. Nothing seemed funny right now; not talking like Cordelia or Willow being tended by Spike or…anything. Irrationally – at least everyone else would say it was – he blamed Angel. Buffy had said Angel would help Willow. He hadn’t. But Xander wasn’t foolish enough to think that would make any difference. Willow wasn’t coming home.

Willow planted her foot the way Spike had shown her and hoped she’d get it right on the first try. Having Spike behind her, holding her close, was creating a whole lot of confusing feelings in a brain still caught up in terrified anxiety waiting for withdrawal that never came. Why, oh why, had she agreed to let him try training her today?

Taking a deep breath, she shifted her weight in the way she thought Spike meant and…

Wow! She’d flipped him over her back!

Her elation was short-lived as she saw him still lying prone on the mat. “Oh Goddess! Spike, did I hurt you?” His eyes stayed closed and he said nothing. Panicked, Willow hurriedly knelt down beside him and shook him gently. “Spike? Spike?”

In a split second, he had her pinned beneath him. “Never let your guard down, pet. Thought you’d have learned by now.”

Willow’s reaction included the expected surprise but there wasn’t nearly as much fear as there should be. Spike could feel the racing of her heart, even scent the adrenaline, but there was also something else, something she shouldn’t be feeling at all, not for him.

This was because she’d just seen him naked, wasn’t it? There couldn’t be anything behind her getting turned on besides the normal hormones a sex-deprived girl would be experiencing.

Oh bugger! There were tears in her eyes and now a fear that had nothing to do with the suddenness of his attack. That meant… “Lesson over,” Spike said tersely, as he leapt to his feet. “Next time, remember that demons are always dangerous.” That was the last thing he said before he left the room.

So what if he was rude? He was a bad, rude man and it was best for the chit to learn that now. This romance thing was an act, and the sooner she remembered that, the better.

He could hear her start to cry as he walked down the hall; he could feel Peaches nearby as well.

No need to worry about either of those things when there was whiskey waiting for him. Trying not to think about just how much time he was spending at the bottom of a bottle these days, he headed back to his room.

Angel stepped cautiously into the training room; the sound of Willow’s sobs made it impossible for him to stay away. What the hell had Spike done to her? He watched her for a moment, curled up in a ball on the floor like a sad little girl. It felt like an invasion of her privacy and he decided to alert her to his presence. “Willow.”

A soft voice roused her from her crying. She pulled herself up to a seated position, grateful that her visitor was Angel and not someone like Cordelia. “Hey,” she said, wiping her eyes and forcing a smile. Probably too late to convince him she was just fine, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try.

He was having none of it. “What happened?” he asked, considering it a victory over his own anger that he hadn’t snapped out a harsh ‘What the hell did that bastard do to you?’

“We were just training and I kind of suck, that’s all.”

If she thought he was going to back off this time and let her get by with a paltry and feeble excuse, she was sorely mistaken. “That’s not what this is about.” Direct and to the point, though said in a kindly voice. Angel sat down next to her. “Spike said something – or did something.” Reaching out, he stroked her face and the tears came again.

Willow didn’t want to talk about it; she didn’t. But she was tired and overwrought and she’d never been able to resist an offer of friendship at the best of times and so… “I think… I think I might sort of love him and… I’m so stupid.” She started sobbing again and Angel pulled her against him, her tears soaking his shirt.

Angel did his best to conceal his surprise at her words, mostly because they didn’t make much sense to him. He’d been under the impression that Willow’s affections were what Spike was looking to inspire. So what had just happened and why had Spike looked so angry and dour when he walked away? How could he just leave her like this – distraught and heartsick?

He wrapped his arms around her as she cried, the warmth of her skin and her tears both soaking into him. Whatever had driven him to walk out, Spike was a bigger fool than Angel had thought possible. If he had this…

The lightning struck and Angel could almost hear the clap of thunder which accompanied it. Willow wasn’t the only one sick with longing in this room. There was now and ever after no chance for him to hide behind the words ‘friendship’ and ‘gratitude’ and pretend they had anything to do with why he wanted (needed) Willow here.

Angel loved Willow. There was no ‘might’ and no ‘sort of’ about it either, no matter how dearly he wished there was. This fragile, powerful creature held his heart in her hands – all of it. He couldn’t stop himself from planting a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

It was almost comforting, being held like this. For a moment, she could just get lost, the way her whole life was now.

The plan was ruined. Spike would hate her. But she supposed there was nothing she could do about that. It was her fault, of course, but it wasn’t intentional. Then again, none of the terrible things she had done were things she had meant to do. No matter what, she seemed to do nothing but cause pain.

Like what she was doing to Tara, even if Tara didn’t know. Tara, who was waiting and being patient and who had offered her the hope of a happy reunion if only… Yeah, if only. If only Tara knew that there was so much more wrong with Willow than magic.

It was time to pull herself together. At the very least, she should stop sniffling all over poor Angel, who was being nice enough to put up with her hysterics, even show her some friendly affection. It was more than she deserved. “Thanks,” she said, as soon as she got herself under control.

“There’s nothing to thank me for.” He kept an arm around her, unwilling to lose the contact, as her tears dried coolly on his shirt and skin. He wished he could add ‘That’s what friends are for’, but how could he now?

“Yeah there is. I mean, here you are putting up with all my whining and sniveling and…”

“I’m not putting up with anything.” He interrupted, his tone more full of meaning than he'd intended to allow. “I’m right where I want to be.” If she looked in his eyes…she’d see…

And it was obvious that she did.

“I…uhh…I should probably go…you know…to my room…wash my face and stuff. I’m all puffy and sniffly and… Yeah. Thanks again, Angel,” she stammered and stuttered as she got up quickly and all but ran out of the room.

What had just happened back there? Angel couldn’t…he didn’t… But what if he did? What had she done this time?

When Willow got back to her room, she didn’t bother washing her face. What was the point? She just kept crying. This wasn’t happening; it wasn’t. She said it to herself over and over. And if she thought there was any way it would work, she’d have cast a spell to make it true.

Angel couldn’t change direction, even though he thought of turning back with every second step. In a moment, he was at Spike’s door. He didn’t bother knocking.

“What the hell kind of game are you playing, boy?” The planes of his face shifted slightly as he struggled to hold his demon back.

Spike sat in a chair, legs splayed out before him, already halfway through a second bottle of whiskey. He hadn’t expected company, especially not Angel – looking so much like the sire he recalled so vividly that he didn’t even bother to lie to himself and pretend that he felt nothing. But Angel wasn’t here for him.

“What brings you to my humble abode, Peaches?”

“Willow. What did you do to her?”

He should have known this was about Willow. Poor Willow. But not Spike. Never him. No, never him.

Angel glowered at Spike, waiting for an answer. He was taken aback a bit by just how intoxicated the boy had become in such a short time, though. What could have inspired that? “I’m waiting.”

Spike snorted, the alcohol in his borrowed blood opening him in a way he’d despise himself for too soon. “Waiting. Yeah right. That’s a laugh. You’ve never waited, never wanted. That’s a privilege reserved for the rest of us.”

There was no deciphering Spike’s cryptic nonsense. Whiskey seemed to transform him into Drusilla. This was pointless. “We’ll have this talk when you’re sober, William.” But when he turned to leave, Spike’s words stopped him.

“That’s right, Angelus. Leave. You’re good at that. Leave whenever you bloody well feel like it. Never think about the ones you cast aside. Guess I should expect it. Always been second best.” Spike wasn’t nearly drunk enough not to realize he’d just laid his heart underneath a stake.

Angel whipped around. “You’re not second best to her, you know.” Why he said it, he’d never know. He regretted it immediately.

“And if I could love her back… But I guess you wouldn’t have a clue about that, seeing as how you have no problem feeling that way for her.”

Spike’s words hit Angel like a sudden slap in the face. How did…? Maybe it was obvious. It had to be, didn’t it? He needed to do better at concealing his feelings from now on. Willow knew…Spike knew…that was enough – more than enough. He wished neither of them knew.

Turning away again, he opened the door. This time no words held him back. He walked out into the hall. Heading for Connor’s room, he instead changed his mind and headed downstairs. His head was spinning with questions about just what had been going on between Spike and Willow that had now gone horribly wrong, questions about how he was supposed to deal with being in love with her, questions about just what Spike felt for him - none of those were questions for which Angel could think of any answers.

Spike had given him a fine idea, he decided. There were decanters full of fine liquor going to waste. Might be a good time to remedy that.

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6911

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Mon Nov 9, 2009 5:28 pm
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) 7/? FRAO/NC-17

flamingointh...

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Title: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Seven)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Spike/Angel (mentions of Spike/Buffy and Willow/Tara)

Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (this chapter is rated R)

Summary: *Set during Season Six of BTVS and Season Three of A:tS* When Willow's addiction to magic destroys her relationship with Tara and results in grave injury to Dawn, Buffy decides that Willow's recovery will go better away from the Hellmouth.

Word Count: 3230

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the outrageously awesome Purplefeen.

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is a very radical re-imagining of a long ago trilogy of mine which began with a story called Tangled Web. This story will differ in innumerable ways from that series.

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Seven)

There wasn’t a heaven in any dimension that would admit Spike should he ever be turned to dust, but what did it matter when there was whiskey?

One thing to be grateful for – that liquor store down the street. So bloody easy to steal from that you’d think they didn’t care about making a dollar. Bless them for keeping the good stuff near the door.

Spike took a healthy draught from the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Annoying’. The word still rang in his ears. Telling Buffy that he was nothing better than a useful pain in the arse. Nice way to show your gratitude there, Peaches. Next time they were out on a case, Spike wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t just let the demons have at the King of Brood.

Setting the whiskey on his nightstand, he pulled his shirt over his head. Hell, might as well dispense with the trousers, too. No need to worry about being naked when he was all alone. Besides, he needed to relieve some of the tension that was tying him up in knots, whiskey notwithstanding.

He plopped himself down heavily on the bed and stretched out, making himself comfortable. At least the pillows were soft and full, though the mattress was purgatorial. Angel was still a cheap bastard.

That wasn’t the one whose image he needed to see, however, so Spike closed his eyes to clear his mind as he reached down and began to slowly stroke his cock. Oh yeah. This was just the ticket.

”Spike”

Buffy’s voice was a smooth purr in his imagination as he pictured her, naked and beautiful, moonlight making her blonde hair glow, highlighting every contour of that tight, firm body.

”I want you.”

It was truth, and he knew it, even if this encounter was only in his mind.

His hand kept moving, cock rising, pleasure building. He could almost feel the heat of her surrounding him as she rode him just the way she had that glorious night. That’s right, pet. That’s the way.

But then the image changed.

”Have you missed me, m’boy?”

No, no! This wasn’t what he wanted. But he couldn’t stop. The pleasure grew even more intense as the image of Angelus swam before the eyes he shut ever tighter in a vain attempt to block it out.

”That’s right, boy. Show me how much ye want me.”

The smooth brogue of the one he’d always considered his true sire. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t get the face – the body – of that bastard out of his mind. Spike could see him standing there, cool and casual even as his cock stood erect and ready.

”Spread yourself for me.”

This time, the voice and the face were Angel’s – all those subtle differences that separated the soul from the demon. That should have brought him well out of it. It didn’t.

Without conscious thought, Spike did what this phantasm commanded, spreading his legs as if waiting to be mounted. He could feel the burn and stretch of Angel inside him, filling him, thrusting hard, as Spike’s hand kept up its work, faster and faster – taking him closer and closer, and then…

He came, and more intensely than he ever had alone. “Angel,” he whimpered before he could stop himself.

Bloody hell, he thought as he lay there sticky and drowning in self-hatred. What had happened to him? He loved Buffy. It was the truest passion he’d ever known. He didn’t want that bastard; he couldn’t want that bastard.

It was the whiskey, right? That was it. That had to be it.

Spike hated Angel.

Sitting in the chair near his son’s crib, holding the boy, Angel did his best to lose himself in the miracle he was touching and cradling. He couldn’t, though.

He’d lied – lied to Buffy, the woman he had once loved more than anything in the world… Wait a minute: once loved? When had it gone from the present to the past tense? How could that have even happened? This was the woman he’d lost his soul over – love like that, it didn’t go away…did it?

Obviously it did.

Well, maybe it hadn’t so much gone away as changed, turned from a living thing to a faded photograph, but that amounted to the same thing, really. It meant that there was an emptiness where there’d at least once been yearning. What was strange was that he didn’t feel empty. That was probably because of Connor.

Softly, so as not to rouse the drowsy baby from his near slumber, Angel began crooning tunelessly: “Three blind mice, three blind mice, see how they run…”

Lorne halted in the doorway. He made a habit of checking on Connor. There was something soothing about the baby. Maybe because his aura didn’t strangle Lorne with pain and sadness. Unfortunately, the father was not like the son. Why, oh why, did he have to be singing?

It was over; Lorne knew that now. The family of choice he’d fantasized he belonged to was splintering and fracturing and there was nothing he could do about it.

He wanted to hate Willow. He couldn’t, but he wanted to. If this had only been intentional…if he couldn’t almost look into eyes as sad as the end of the world when he saw what was to come.

Three blind mice, and she was the blindest of all.

It was foolish and doomed to failure, but he made an attempt anyway. “She needs to go home.”

Angel looked up and saw Lorne standing there. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who he meant. “No one else seems to feel that way. Except for Cordelia.” He looked at Lorne sharply, wondering if that very seer had a hand in this. He didn’t ask, though. No point, really. Lorne would either lie or he wouldn’t and Angel probably wouldn’t be able to tell either way. Lorne read people; he didn’t get read by people.

What was Lorne to say to that? Now was not the time to reveal what he’d seen. Angel would only deny it. And there was no point in going to Spike or Willow either, because they’d do the same. Cute lines about denial being more than a river in Egypt seemed hideously inappropriate, even inside his head. They were an insult to the unfolding misery.

“Her girlfriend…,” Lorne began.

“Hasn’t called once since Willow got here. Doesn’t that tell you anything?” Angel interrupted with growing irritation. Connor stirred and made fussy sounds. “Look,” he said, more quietly and calmly. “Now is not the time for this. Willow saved us – all of us – in case you’ve forgotten. She’s going to be here for as long as she needs or wants to be. Okay?”

Lorne sighed, “Sure thing, Angelcakes,” and then turned on his heel and departed.

It was times like this when he wished he didn’t have his gift at all.

There had been a photograph of her and Tara in happier days hidden at the bottom of her suitcase. Willow hadn’t taken it out until now. She sat on the bed, cradling the picture in the palms of her hand, staring at it as if, by staring hard enough, she could somehow enter it – could somehow go back to those halcyon days.

It was if she were looking at two strangers, though, and she couldn’t become the green-eyed girl with the goofy grin on her face no matter how much magic she used. And somehow, she couldn’t find that connection to Tara.

She kept staring, tracing the photographic curve of Tara’s cheek with her finger, trying to somehow feel the soft skin it represented. But all she felt was the slickness of the picture.

What she needed right now was someone to talk to; someone who could help her make sense of the decay and the chaos and help her make everything alright in her head again. While Angel had been the one to offer an ear whenever she needed one, it never occurred to Willow to go to him. Instead, she headed out her door and straight for Spike’s room.

His chest damp and raw from where he’d scrubbed it with a washcloth, Spike stumbled out of the bathroom and back to the bed. He didn’t bother putting his clothes back on. Didn’t matter, did it? He was alone – all alone. Post-wank whiskey had made him morose and now he was arse-deep in self-pity. It might have been different had his fantasies not turned against him. He’d blamed the drink, but maybe it had been the chip. Bloody Initiative bastards. They bollixed up everything.

He fell back on the bed, head missing the pillows, staring at the ceiling, so lost in his misery that when the knock at the door came, he automatically called out, “Come in.”

“Oh my God!” Willow could feel her face turn scarlet the moment she opened the door and saw… But she couldn’t stop staring at Spike – naked Spike. Spike was naked. Really, really naked. As in completely naked. “I’m so sorry! I’ll just…” She made extravagant hand gestures which were supposed to indicate that she was turning around and leaving but probably just looked like a wounded vulture attempting to fly.

Oh bugger! Of all the people who had to knock on his door right now. “Wait, Red!” he cried as he reached down and grabbed his shirt, using it to cover his private bits as he sat up.

Too late. She was gone.

Spike grabbed the rest of his clothes and hurriedly redressed. He needed to fix this.

Willow almost ran back to her room, cheeks still flaming – heck, her whole body still flaming. She couldn’t believe she had walked in on…

Inside her room she collapsed into a chair. He’d said “Come in,” hadn’t he? She’d thought he had, hand on heart. She’d never meant to… Oh Goddess. How would she ever even look him in the face now?

A moment later, she realized she already had the chance to find out. “Red?” came a voice at her door, followed by a knock Willow would swear sounded repentant.

“Come in,” she said with some trepidation.

He opened her door and entered. “Darn. Thought you’d return the favour.” He was trying for levity, but it seemed to have fallen flat. She was staring at the floor and there wasn’t the barest trace of a smile on her face. “Look, about what just happened. I’m…I’m sorry. I’ve had a bit to drink tonight and when you knocked, I didn’t even think. Never meant to embarrass ya.”

“Thanks.” She decided to try looking at him. It was sort of okay now, seeing as how he was fully-clothed and all, but it was different somehow from before.

He could see the discomfort in her expression and he felt worse than ever. Funny that it took a bit for him to think this might put a crimp in their plans. His first thought had been concern for the state of their friendship. He hated that he’d made her feel so uncomfortable.

“Still friends then, right?”

“Of course,” she said, wondering why she felt so strange as she said it.

“At least now you know what Buffy’s missing.”

“I already knew.” He almost hated her for the warmth and sincerity that clung to each word. Not for the first time, he questioned why he couldn’t fall for someone like that. “But she’ll come to her senses any day now. I know it.”

Willow meant every word she’d said, too. Buffy was an idiot if she didn’t fall in love with Spike, and not because he had a great body either – though he did, oh did he ever – but because he was caring and kind and…

No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. She was gay – completely and utterly gay. Okay yes, there had been Xander and Oz and that crush on Giles, but now, now, she was one hundred percent pure lesbian. This was a ‘no-clothes fluke’ and that was all. She was just wonky from magic addiction and lonely and tired and missing Tara and her mind was all twisted into a pretzel.

All of this would be cured by a good night’s sleep. She’d be right as rain (how could you tell if rain was right or wrong?) with some sleep.

“I’m kinda tired right now.”

Spike took her words at face value. Her skin was pale again and she seemed to have no problem looking at him. “Get some sleep, pet. See ya tomorrow.” He was about to apologize again, but he held his tongue. Knowing her, she’d just get embarrassed all over again at the reminder and that was the last thing he wanted. “G’night,” he said with a smile as he exited her room and headed back to his own. Thank whatever gods he’d somehow not made mortal enemies of that he’d managed to set things right.

Tears came unbidden to Willow’s eyes once the door closed behind her departing visitor, but she wiped them away and fought back new ones with all her might. She was tired and she did need sleep. Taking a pair of pajamas out of the dresser, she took off the t-shirt and jeans she was wearing, removed her bra, and changed into her sleeping attire. After putting her clothes with the rest of her dirty laundry, she turned off the overhead light and got into bed. Rest would fix everything. Like that very right rain, it would wash away all the confusion in her head. Tomorrow she’d see clearly and be herself again. Tomorrow…

No matter how much time he spent with them, Angel could never get used to human hours. Biology, he supposed, wondering if Willow had ever made any serious study of the difference between vampires and the humans they’d once been. He’d never once thought of asking such a question of Fred. Of course, he didn’t know her nearly as well.

He was restless and bored and wanted some company. Spike was awake – he was sure of that – but he wasn’t interested in a round of insults or in dealing with the issues admittedly raised by Spike’s response to him during that battle with the L’vacs. Once upon a time (Once upon a soul) he had been Spike’s grand-sire – Spike’s true sire given Drusilla’s incapacity for rearing a childe – but those days were long gone and he felt it was best to ignore any trace of nostalgia in the wayward boy. Soon enough, Spike would get over it. His true affections would always be reserved for Drusilla.

That brought up an important matter – one he needed to discuss with Willow. Despite his earlier hopes that Fred’s observations had been wrong or that at the very least, Spike’s interest in Willow would be fleeting, it seemed instead that the boy had some sort of agenda where Willow was concerned. Spike was quite obviously flirting with her, paying her attentions the poor girl might easily misconstrue and take far more seriously than they deserved to be. Angel needed to talk with her, be the true friend he had promised her he would, and make her aware as gently and kindly as possible that Spike wasn’t someone she could count on in any way.

Altering his course from aimless wandering to heading in the direction of Willow’s room, he only hoped she hadn’t yet gone to sleep. Back in Sunnydale, he recalled that she’d kept pretty late hours. With any luck, that still held true.

He knocked on her door, trying to strike a balance between loud enough to be heard but not so loud it would wake her if she had indeed gone to bed.

Was that Spike? Willow couldn’t think of who else it could be this late at night, though she wondered what he was doing here after she'd already told him she needed rest just a short time ago. “Come in,” she said, glad of her modest nightwear as she got out of bed. She supposed this couldn’t really be classified as waking her up or anything. She’d only been tossing and turning anyway, due in no small part to the very vampire who was about to reenter and…

“Oh! Angel.” This was a surprise.

“Hey,” he said, unexpectedly discomfited by her attire; a pair of baggy flannel pajamas and yet somehow they were unsettling. “I was just wondering if you were awake and wanted to talk. Not about anything in particular, just…” Normally, he didn’t pay much heed to his awkward grasp of conversational skills, but now – now it bothered him. “Vampire hours. I keep them, but…”

“Everybody else goes to sleep.” She finished his sentence for him and stifled a sigh. Sleep was what she wanted, too, but it wasn’t coming anytime soon, not with Angel in the mood for company. He was giving her a place to stay, she reminded herself; the least she could do was be friendly.

“They stay up as late as they can, but…yeah, they go to sleep.”

He was fidgeting and Willow got the distinct impression, that, disclaimer to the contrary, there really was something he wanted to talk about. “Angel, is there something you wanted to say?”

Was he that obvious? Guess the answer to that was yes. “Actually there is. It’s just… I don’t want to pry or interfere in your personal life, but…” She looked confused and expectant, but she said nothing. He decided to plunge right in. “It’s Spike. I know you two have been spending a lot of time together and… I know what he’s like and I would hate to see you get hurt.”

Willow bit her tongue just as she was about to deny it. She suddenly realized that – wow – it was working. Their plan was really working. Even Angel thought that she and Spike were…a she and Spike thing. She should be thrilled – she was thrilled…right?

Fighting the urge to shake her head to clear her thoughts, she decided to stick bravely to what she’d pledged to do. Bringing up a brief flash of Spike’s nudity to help her achieve the necessary blush – and fighting back the emotional turmoil that ensued – she said, “We’re just friends. Honest. Spike’s not gonna hurt me.”

Angel was about to argue with her and Willow knew she just wasn’t up to it right now. She stretched and feigned what she hoped was a credible yawn. “I’m sorry, Angel, but I was kind of in bed when you knocked and…”

“It’s okay. You get some rest.” There was more going on than fatigue, but Angel knew he wasn’t going to score any points with her by forcing his company on her any longer. “Remember what I told you,” he said softly as he stood in the doorway. “Good night.”

He closed the door behind him and stood for a moment in the hall. Irrationally, he was almost certain that if he’d been Spike, she’d have stayed up to talk to him. Not for one moment did he believe her denial of an other than platonic relationship between herself and Spike. That blush had told him the truth: Willow had feelings for that callow bastard. He clenched his fists as a wave of anger rolled through him.

Angel wasn’t jealous; he wasn’t. Willow was his friend and he didn’t want to see her hurt. That was all. That was absolutely all.

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6910

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Thu Nov 5, 2009 4:45 pm
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) 6/? FRAO/NC-17

flamingointh...

Offline

Title: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Six)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Spike/Angel (mentions of Spike/Buffy and Willow/Tara)

Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (eventually, but not yet)

Summary: *Set during Season Six of BTVS and Season Three of A:tS* When Willow's addiction to magic destroys her relationship with Tara and results in grave injury to Dawn, Buffy decides that Willow's recovery will go better away from the Hellmouth.

Word Count: 3266

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the outrageously awesome Purplefeen.

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is a very radical re-imagining of a long ago trilogy of mine which began with a story called Tangled Web. This story will differ in innumerable ways from that series.

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Six)

Angel watched as Spike emerged from Willow’s room looking pensive and lost. That was something Angel wondered about, but he didn’t have time to worry about the boy’s mysterious moods now. No, he was far more concerned with Willow. There was still so much he wanted (needed) to know about what had brought her here – not just to Los Angeles, but to the state she was in.

Spike walked away down the hall in the other direction. Whether he knew Angel was there or not, he said nothing and didn’t turn around. Good. Angel wasn’t in the mood for trading banter. He went to the door from which Spike had just emerged and knocked.

“Come in,” came a listless voice.

“You should always ask who it is,” Angel admonished jestingly as he strode into the room. “You never know who might be there.”

Willow did her best to smile at Angel. “Yeah, I kinda found that out the hard way when I accidentally invited Spike into my dorm room.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that memory. It had been a terrifying encounter at the time.

It seemed to upset Angel and Willow hastened to explain. “He didn’t hurt me. It was right after he’d escaped from the Initaitive and he was all un-bite-y thanks to the chip.” If she’d thought that would help, she seemed to be wrong. Angel’s eyes were focused on the side of her neck. Oh…oh! She’d almost forgotten about that since she could barely see it anymore. “That was Harmony,” she said as she touched the barely perceptible scar. “She bit me, but she barely got a drop. It was no big deal. Really. I mean, it was Harmony. I’m amazed she even figured out how to use her fangs. She wasn’t exactly an A student.” Willow was babbling now; fidgeting, too. It was just so hard to know what to say to Angel.

Angel’s demon was restless and he had no idea why; he fought to tamp it down. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” It was a stupid thing to say. If she hadn’t been hurt then, did it matter? She’d still been hurt. “Is now a good time? To talk, I mean?”

She’d kind of been dreading this, but she was resigned. It was inevitable, wasn’t it? He’d already forgotten…

“I meant what I said before. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. It’s just… I want to help you.” Okay. That was surprising. Angel had remembered; people never seemed to remember the promises they made her – well, except for Tara.

Now was not the time to think about Tara.

She still wasn’t sure, but then again, she’d already told him the worst, or part of it, and he didn’t seem to hate her. Maybe she could tell him…something. She felt as if she owed him at least that much. Call it room and board. “What do you want to know?”

What did he want to know, indeed? Angel could think of dozens of questions without even trying. But the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her off, encourage her to keep up the wall behind which she was hiding. How was he going to manage this? “The magic…how are you handling it? Are you doing okay?”

He wasn’t sure if that was the question to ask, but he’d asked it and, much to his relief, she answered with barely any hesitation.

“I’m… It’s weird. Before – back in Sunnydale – it was so hard. Even in the car on the way here I was all sick and stuff. But now… It’s weird.” She was fidgeting again and he fought to keep from smiling. For a few seconds she had looked so much like the girl who’d told him she wasn’t supposed to have boys in her room.

Still, she left him with new questions. “What’s weird about it?”

What did he mean by that? Hadn’t she just explained? She went back over what she’d just said. Okay, maybe he had a point. Coherence never seemed to be her strong suit when talking to Angel. “I’m not sick. And…” She couldn’t even believe what she was about to say. It was true, though, so she said it. “I’m not craving magic. Not like before. I mean, sure, I want…but I don’t…and I…” She stood there, helpless and tangled in her own words, not sure at all of what she meant or how she felt.

Seconds later, Angel pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay.” Was it? Willow wasn’t sure about that at all.

This was the second time Angel had ever hugged her and both times had been in the last few days. Before this, their only relationship had been the connection they shared with Buffy. Oh, and the soul thing, but it wasn’t like Angel even knew she was the one who did it…did he? He’d never said anything, that was for sure, so her best guess was that he didn’t have a clue.

He was big, so much bigger than her friends – or her lovers – and that was disconcerting and almost oppressive. She felt small and fragile as he held her close. Funny how magic didn’t make her feel powerful at all right now.

Of course, she was being silly. It’s not like it was Angel’s fault that he was tall and broad-chested.

Holding Willow felt…right, maybe too right, but Angel wasn’t going to think about that. What he was going to think about was the fact that she was friendless (not for one moment did he believe Spike actually gave a damn about her) and alone and that was utterly unjust. If anyone deserved friendship and support, it was Willow. She needed him and he was going to be there for her.

Ending their embrace, he wondered what to say next. He wanted so badly to know just what had happened to send her over the edge – how she’d wound up going to a magic dealer. He wanted to know other things, too, personal things, but that was normal, right? They were building a friendship, and friends knew these things about each other. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, however, and he simply waited to see if she’d volunteer anything further.

Surprisingly, she did.

“I felt like somebody, you know?” she said softly. “Like I wasn’t just Buffy’s geek sidekick anymore. I was special and important and I could really do things.” She reddened as she spoke, embarrassed at having revealed so much. But it was done now and she couldn’t take the words back. Instead she braced herself for the platitudes she knew were coming. They’d probably be the same ones that Buffy had used.

She kept waiting but Angel didn’t speak. He simply looked at her with those dark eyes full of sadness and mystery, offering no clue as to what he was thinking. It was unnerving, how unexpected he was. With Spike it was so different – she expected him to be unexpected and that sort of split the difference and made him comfortably predictable…in an unpredictable way, but still… She didn’t know Angel well enough to be comfortable with him being surprising.

The right words weren’t there, so Angel stayed silent. He didn’t think it would mean anything to her if he was to tell her that she was special just as she was. She’d think he was just humouring her – that he was saying that because he felt he owed her for saving his son, for giving him back his soul. He did owe her for those things, but fortune cookie mantras were no way to pay her back, and that gratitude was something separate from what was happening now.

He decided to change the subject. “How is everyone here treating you?”

Willow smiled slightly at that and he mentally patted himself on the back. Good move, m’boy.

“Everyone’s been great,” she replied, and she was being sincere. Okay, maybe Cordelia hadn’t exactly rolled out the Welcome Wagon, but Willow hadn’t actually expected her to and she’d been nowhere near as bad as she could have been so…yeah, that qualified as great. “Fred’s really nice,” she added. “So are Gunn and Lorne. You must really like working with them.” She almost winced as she realized she’d left out Wesley and she hastened to mention him. “I bet Wesley’s a lot of help, too.” Afterthought much? It reminded her sharply of the way she was always tacked on to the end of things. She couldn’t stop tears from forming in her eyes.

Angel noticed. “What’s wrong?” Things had been going so well. Could this have anything to do with… “Did Cordelia do something?”

She started before saying – too quickly for his liking – “No. What would make you think…?”

“I know you two don’t get along. And I know that she can be harsh sometimes, say things without thinking.” Cordelia was his seer and a close friend – she’d stood by him loyally for so long – but he was very aware that her relationship with Willow had been contentious in the past and he wouldn't be surprised to hear that old hurts had flared up. “If there was some misunderstanding and she upset you…”

“No. No. We’ve barely talked to each other. Honest.” Okay, part of that was a lie, but it conveyed a larger truth – Cordelia was not the reason she was upset right now.

“You’re sure?” Willow replied to the question with a nod she hoped wasn’t too vigorous. Her tendency to be defensive often made her look guilty; she knew that well.

Angel was sure she wasn’t being completely honest, but he decided to just let the matter drop. They’d made progress today; real progress. Willow had opened up to him; she’d let him past the wall, at least a little bit. He wasn’t about to jeopardize that, so he decided to let her be. “I’m gonna go check on Connor.” He headed for the door, but before he opened it, he turned to Willow and said, “If you ever need to talk, if you ever need anything, I’m right here.”

He heard her say “Thank you” as he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

There were things he had wanted to ask her, things he still did. He only hoped the time would come someday when he could.

“I wish Willow was here,” Anya groused. “She's much better on the computer than you are.” It was tiresome – all this pretending that they were fine without Willow. Because they weren’t and it was high time Buffy admitted it. Plus, Willow had better taste and Anya would much prefer to hear her opinion of the choices she’d made in wedding décor.

“I know that, okay?” If Anya made one more remark… Slaying an ex-demon was okay for a Slayer, right? “But right now, I’m what we’ve got.” Buffy wished everyone would just back off. She was doing her best. Warren was a lot more familiar with computers than she was; maybe even more familiar than Willow. She’d like to see Anya or Xander find out anything about him worth knowing online; she wasn’t even thinking of trying to hack into his computer.

“All I’m saying is that Willow’s been there for over three weeks. She has to be better by now. Xander talked to her and she told him she was doing fine, so…”

“And Willow always admits when she’s not okay? Which universe’s Willow are you talking about?”

Xander decided it was time to step in before his soon-to-be-wife managed to end his friendship with Buffy. “Guys. Guys. I think we’re all just a little on edge after the invisibility thing, okay? Let’s just calm down.”

Much to his amazement, Anya sat in her seat and didn’t answer back. Wow. This could be a first. Maybe Xander had picked up some leftover mojo Willow had left lying around or something.

He’d give it back when she came home. God did he miss her. “Look, why don’t I call and talk to someone else there, like Cordelia or something?”

Bye-bye mojo. That was exactly the wrong thing to say. “You are not going to talk to your ex-girlfriend right before our wedding. I’m sure something in one of the wedding books I have says you're not allowed to do that.”

“I’ll call,” Buffy said. She was almost glad for the excuse. Asking about Willow would also allow… She hated herself for even thinking about him, let alone wanting him to come back almost more than she did Willow, but it was there and it was real – one more side-effect of being brought back wrong. “Will that make everyone happy?”

Anya humphed, which was probably as close to a yes as Buffy was going to get. Xander nodded; that, too, was the best she was going to get.

She headed for the door, having intended to call from her home phone, when a voice stopped her. “I thought you were going to call and ask about Willow?” Thanks, Anya.

“I didn’t want to run up the phone bill here,” Buffy hastily alibied.

“I don’t mind.” Anya didn’t trust Buffy as far as she could throw her. For all she knew, Buffy would lie and say she’d called when she hadn’t. Just because Anya couldn’t think of a reason why Buffy wouldn’t want Willow to come home didn’t mean she wasn’t suspicious that there was one. After all, Buffy was the only one who wanted to send Willow away in the first place.

Buffy headed back to the counter and the phone, knowing now that asking about Spike had to be done more gingerly than ever. Of course, if Anya was right…if Willow was all better… She dialed Angel’s number with a hopeful optimism that shamed her. More of it should be caused by the idea that her best friend might have conquered her addiction. Buffy loved Willow; she did. It was just…

“Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless.”

“Hey, Cordy.” Buffy tried to sound chummy. That was probably stupid considering she and Cordelia had really never been chummy even when they saw each other every day, but oh well. “How are things?”

Was she serious? ‘How are things?’ Buffy was phonier than ever. Cordelia stopped herself just short of a snide comeback, however. This phone call might be a stroke of luck. Buffy being nice to her could only be happening for one reason – they needed Willow to do something for them. “Things are just fine. In fact…”

Without her even having heard him enter the office, Angel was at the desk snatching the phone right out of her hand.

“Buffy. Is there something you needed to talk to me about?”

He acted as if Cordelia was just some secretary with nothing to say. She didn’t feel a pang at that – not at all. Cordelia Chase did not care about Angel one bit.

But she did, and his rudeness hurt. With only a softly-spoken “I’ll leave you alone to chat with ‘Little Miss Just-Can’t-Stay-Dead’” to mark her exit, she left the office as fast as she could while still hanging on to her dignity with both perfectly-manicured hands. If she shed a single tear, she was the only one who would ever know.

Angel? He was the last person Buffy expected to speak to. Conscious guilt made her almost shake. It was only her awareness that she wasn’t alone that gave her the strength to maintain her composure. “Hi, Angel.” There was still that rush of angst and loss when she heard his voice. Angel was the epitome of a ‘what might have been’. If only… “I was just calling to check in, see how Willow’s doing.” Her tone was the epitome of casual. As much as she wanted to inflate the degree of emergency their current predicament constituted in order to hasten Willow’s return – and Spike’s – Buffy just couldn’t. No matter what, she really didn’t want to put herself and her own needs first.

Maybe she hadn’t come back all wrong.

Listening to Buffy’s studied attempt at unconcern, Angel almost ground his teeth. Who did she think she was fooling? Obviously they had a problem there and they just couldn’t handle it without Willow. Well, the way Angel figured it, they could. After all, if it was a real emergency, Buffy would have just called and straight out asked for all the help she could get. They probably wanted Willow’s research skills or for her to use the magic they themselves had told her she needed to give up. He wasn’t going to let this happen. Willow had come to him looking for a safe place to heal and she still had so much of that to do. It was up to him to make sure she got what she needed.

Angel didn’t hate himself enough to even bother about it when he replied, “She’s… She doesn't want you guys to know, but...she’s shaky. She tries, but most days she can barely come out of her room. It’s been hard for her. She hasn’t broken down and used magic once, though. We're all proud of her. Wesley’s put the word out to his contacts and we’re still trying to find an expert to help her. Hopefully we’ll hear something soon.”

Buffy’s heart sank as she heard Angel’s words. She wasn’t surprised, though. Willow was never one to admit how bad things were, not until it was almost too late. Buffy’s mind flew back to Oz’s leaving and the ‘Will Be Done’ spell. Speaking of ‘if only’s’… If only they’d all learned from that. “Oh,” was all she could say for a long moment. “Is there anything…?”

“No. Not really.” Angel decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and added, “I’ll tell her you called though. That should cheer her up a lot.”

Of course, now he couldn’t under any circumstances allow… “Thanks for sending Spike here,” he said. “We’ve been having a lot of problems with demon gangs lately and he’s been pretty helpful in dealing with them.”

Was it terrible that she was pathetically grateful to hear about Spike without having to ask? Of course it would have been better if what she heard implied that Spike was coming home...she meant ‘back to Sunnydale.’ “Spike? Helpful?” she asked, ever mindful of her audience.

“He’s still annoying as hell, but he likes violence and considering how much of it we’re having right now…” Angel figured that sounded believable.

“So he’s gonna be staying there then?”

“For the time being, yeah. Hey, at least this means he’s not your problem for awhile.”

“Yeah. That’s great. Thanks, Angel.” She thought she heard herself say goodbye before she hung up the phone, but she wouldn’t bet on it, not at all.

Willow wasn’t coming home.

Neither was Spike.

Turning to the expectant faces of Xander and Anya, she swallowed the lump in her throat. Xander was going to take the news about Willow so hard.

Spike stood outside the office. ‘He’s still annoying as hell.’ Nice way to start out a spot of eavesdropping, hearing those words. It wasn’t as if the context didn’t tell him exactly who those words referred to, now was it?

He shouldn’t be upset. Not as if he didn’t know how the bloody Poof felt about him, after all. Hell, he felt the same and worse in return. So why was he upset?

It was Buffy, of course. Not knowing what she’d said in response. Worrying that she agreed and was glad he was still gone. That was it. That had to be it. He didn’t give a rat’s arse what Angel thought of him; not a rat’s arse.

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6909

From: "newstkilly" <newstkilly@...>
Date: Thu Nov 5, 2009 9:18 am
Subject: Message Alert - You Have 1 Important Unread Message!

newstkilly

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Message Alert - You Have 1 Important Unread Message!
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#6908

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Mon Nov 2, 2009 6:08 pm
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) 5/? NC-17/FRAO

flamingointh...

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Title: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Five)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Spike/Angel (mentions of Spike/Buffy and Willow/Tara)

Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (eventually, but not yet)

Summary: *Set during Season Six of BTVS and Season Three of A:tS* When Willow's addiction to magic destroys her relationship with Tara and results in grave injury to Dawn, Buffy decides that Willow's recovery will go better away from the Hellmouth.

Word Count: 2863

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the outrageously awesome Purplefeen.

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is a very radical re-imagining of a long ago trilogy of mine which began with a story called Tangled Web. This story will differ in innumerable ways from that series.

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Five)

Strangely, in all the time Willow had been here, she and Cordelia had somehow not spoken. Oh sure, they’d said things like ‘hello’ or even ‘want some coffee?’, but they hadn’t had an actual conversation since Willow’s arrival.

She found herself wondering if that might not be the best thing as far as the both of them were concerned. There remained a frostiness between them that spoke of grudges still carried and of the truth that, despite the tentative accord they’d once had, they had never actually been friends. They probably never would be either.

Still, that didn’t mean Willow wouldn’t try to at least thaw things out a bit. Now that things had settled down, it seemed impossible for them to peacefully coexist without some conversation, though hopefully Spike’s plan would work and she’d be home with Tara soon.

With some trepidation, Willow made her way into the office. She’d hoped Fred would be there, too – she’d have offered a nice buffer – but sadly, it was only Cordelia Willow found, sitting at the desk and filing her nails. “Hi,” she said, announcing her presence and affecting a cheerful grin. “What’cha doin’?”

Oh great. Willow. Just who Cordelia didn’t want to see. “Nothing much,” she replied, biting her tongue to keep herself from saying ‘duh’ and giving her impeccable nails a sharp glance. It wasn’t as if Willow cared much about maintaining her appearance, so she’d never appreciate the importance of lovely hands.

All right, maybe that last thought was catty, but something about Willow… If Cordelia were honest with herself, she’d say she hated her. Twice, when she had something special, something real, Willow stepped in and wrecked it. Xander might have been a loser, but he’d been the first person who’d seen her as something more than a beautiful trophy and they’d been…well, they’d been something until Willow had come along and ruined everything.

Then there were her visions. Thanks to them, and to working with Angel, Cordelia had become somebody, somebody important who helped save the world and who even got respect for more than her great looks and fashion sense. Until now. Now all anyone cared about was Willow’s flashy abracadabra stuff – the stuff, by the way, which she was supposedly here to quit using and which Cordelia would swear she waited until everyone was in mortal danger before unleashing. Show-off. But it sure did the trick. Gunn was practically in awe of her and Angel… No, it didn’t matter. Cordelia did not care about Angel’s stupid Willow-obsession.

Willow stood, looking at the ground or around the office for a few long moments, and she fidgeted. It was silly, but she was afraid – afraid of Cordelia’s biting tongue and the scorn she readily expressed for any sort of weakness. Any minute now, Willow expected a cutting remark about her addiction.

It didn’t come, but Cordelia did finally say something sharp. “Was there something you wanted to talk to me about or did you just want to stand there all day?”

What Willow wanted to do was just turn and run, but instead, she stood her ground and said, “I just thought we should talk or something. I mean, I’m staying here for awhile, so I figured we should try and… I don’t know, get along, maybe?”

Goody. Willow Rosenberg wanted to be her friend. Cordelia’s day just could not get any worse.

What bothered her most was the fact that Willow was oozing with sincerity – those annoying puppy-eyes and everything that went with them. And yeah, maybe she really was sincere, but that didn’t make Cordelia like her any better. In fact, it might have made her like Willow less. Because the girl never seemed to mean to hurt anyone and yet… She hurt people, Cordelia-shaped people in particular, and it wasn’t okay; it was never going to be okay.

Did she mention that owing Willow her life made her grind her teeth until her jaw ached?

“I think we’re already getting along just fine. You can stay in your room, ‘recover from your addiction’, and do whatever it is you’re doing with Spike that’s making him way overstay his welcome, and I’ll do my job and help Angel save lives. I think staying out of each other’s way qualifies as getting along.”

There it was; the jab at Willow’s problem with magic. Oh well. It was nowhere near as brutal as she’d feared and at least now it wasn’t hanging over her head like the Sword of Damocles. She was about to open her mouth and remind Cordelia that she was gay – if Cordelia even knew in the first place – but she remembered the plan in time. Instead she asked, “What makes you think I’m doing anything with Spike?” in a way that she hoped reeked of guilt.

Providence then decided to smile on Willow’s cause even more brightly; Spike entered the room. “Hello, pet,” he offered, with what Willow could have sworn was a shy, coy expression. What? She wanted to giggle at his overacting, but she managed to maintain her composure. She just hoped his melodrama didn’t ruin everything.

Spike let the gears in his head turn and followed his instincts. He’d been outside the room for a short while and he’d heard enough of the conversation to spot this as a perfect opportunity to further his plan. Also, he had to admit that while of course he didn’t give a damn about Cordelia’s sniping about his being unwelcome, he felt a bit badly for Willow. He didn’t consider himself the sentimental type, but he’d already accepted the fact that he’d forged a bit of a friendship with the girl and listening to the harsh way she’d been dressed down bothered him. What was the cheerleader’s problem with her anyway? Was this still that Harris thing? Because in Spike’s opinion, both girls had been battier than Dru to have a yen for the whelp.

Still, maybe that weakness offered a way to give the cheerleader her own back. “Have you called Anya?” he asked Willow in the most guileless tone he could manage.” “Because I know she wanted to talk wedding plans with you. Makes sense, you being Xander’s best friend and all.” It almost hurt to use the boy’s first name, but it was worth it when he saw the bitch wince. From a tight-arse like her, that was a sign that he’d struck a nerve.

Cordelia was surprised, but she wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t. She had moved on from Xander long ago. Okay, maybe there was some pain at hearing this news, but it wasn’t because she still had feelings for him. It was…

It wasn’t fair. Xander was a loser and a jerk and he’d cheated on her and what happened to him? He found true love and got to live happily ever after, at least until the divorce. But Cordelia, who’d been cheated on and who had sacrificed and fought and suffered horrible migraines that no one should endure just to help save lives? She was alone – all alone, especially since Angel was so caught up in…but that wasn’t even relevant since it wasn’t as if she gave a damn about the stupid vampire anyway. It just wasn’t fair, that was all. She was loveable, too, wasn’t she?

From where Cordelia was sitting, Willow was doing just fine with her little problem, so why didn’t she just go home?

There was a shine to Cordelia’s eyes that filled Willow with remorse, though she wasn’t sure entirely for what. No, they didn’t like each other, and Cordelia’s hate ran deeper than Willow had realized, but she couldn’t seem to hate her back. She didn’t even try. “We should probably let Cordelia get back to work,” Willow said at last, her tongue stumbling as she narrowly avoided using the too familiar ‘Cordy’.

“Yeah, that would be great,” Cordelia snapped, “Seeing as how some of us actually have jobs we have to do to earn a living.”

Spike was tempted to inform the stupid bint that there were other, better-paying jobs for which she was infinitely more qualified – jobs involving a pole and regular waxing – but Willow’s hand squeezing his arm persuaded him to hold his tongue. She was soft; too soft. They needed to have a talk about that.

All of a sudden he understood why the goodliest of goody-two-shoes had turned to magic, and it wasn’t because she was looking for thrills.

Taking his cues from her, he let Willow lead him out of the office without either saying another word. “So,” he said when they were halfway to her room. “What made you decide to have a chat with the airhead?”

What was she supposed to say in answer to that? It wasn’t as if Willow was even sure. “I don’t know,” she finally offered. “I guess I just… I don’t know.”

Eyes and mind refocused entirely on the task of shaping each perfect nail, Cordelia was startled out of the void she was doing everything she could to shut herself off in by the ringing of the phone. “Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless,” she said in a voice that practically ordered the caller to hang up without a word.

This caller, however, wasn’t following orders. “Hi. C-can I speak to Willow, please?”

One more reminder that the whole world revolved around Willow. Wasn’t this peachy? Well, it wasn’t as if Cordelia Chase was some errand girl. She wasn’t going to go running after her. “She’s off somewhere with her boyfriend right now, but I’ll be sure to let her know you called.” With that, Cordelia hung up.

Oh darn, she’d forgotten to get the girl’s name. Gee. Too bad. Cordelia turned her attention back to her nails. If only she could shape a life without Willow in it as easily.

Spike followed Willow into her room. Might as well stick around and talk. There was fuck-all to do in this place right now. You’d think Peaches would spring for bloody cable. “So, pet, how’s the abstinence thing going today?” Not that he didn’t already have some idea – she still hadn’t gotten those shakes she'd been anticipating – but for all he knew she was craving a spell something awful.

“It’s… It’s still easier than it should be. Way too easy.”

He felt a sudden need to distance himself from her - maybe it was the way she just kept beating herself up, looking for punishment. With some effort, he forced a less sympathetic reaction than he'd had the last time she'd talked to him about the withdrawal she wasn't enduring.

Willow was startled by Spike’s laughter. “What’s so funny?”

“You. No offense, but you’ve got to be kidding me. Here you are having miraculously made it through the worst part of kicking the habit with barely a twitch and you’re acting as if it’s some terrible thing. I thought we got through all the angst the other day.”

Willow could see his point, actually, and she started to laugh, too. The laughter built and bubbled up inside of her and then spilled out in waves that felt…good – until they didn’t anymore. The mirth turned to hysteria and then to tears and she couldn’t have found a reason for it if doing so would make Tara appear in her bed right now.

The distance, such as it was, was gone without ever having really been there. Spike put his arms around her, not knowing what else to do. Willow was inscrutable to him. Sure, he’d spent years with Dru, and she was one for the incomprehensible display, but there wasn’t any sense to her and therefore no impulse to try to find it. Willow, on the other hand… There was a logic here somewhere and he couldn’t help wishing he understood just what was tying her in knots.

He had the horrible feeling it was the same thing that secretly terrified him - being alone, alone forever. No one knew better than he did the importance of suffering enough, of debasing yourself enough – if you didn’t get that right…

His arms stayed where they were, but he didn’t say a word. Not like any that he had would be comforting; not to either of them.

“She hung…hung up on me.” Tara said softly to herself, trying to make sense of what had just happened even as she tried not to think of what else the rude woman on the other end of the phone had said.

That had to be Cordelia, right? And Willow had told her about Cordelia – how mean she was, the spiteful things she said. It didn’t mean anything; it didn’t. She’d talk to Willow tomorrow and…

But maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe this was the goddess’s way of telling her that she shouldn’t have called at all; it was too soon. What Willow had done… It wasn’t something Tara could just forgive and forget, and calling Willow now might give her the wrong idea, make her think that a week or two without magic would be the ticket to their getting back together, and that just wasn’t right.

More than magic had gone wrong between them. Trust had been violated; promises had been broken; Willow had turned into someone Tara didn’t even know. That couldn’t be fixed in a few days, and she wasn’t sure it could be fixed ever.

Did she still love Willow? Yes, and she knew she’d love Willow forever and with all her heart. That was as sure as the sky was blue and that clouds were white. But would she and Willow ever hold hands, share kisses, touch each other…? No, Tara couldn’t be sure of that, no matter how much she wanted to be.

She lay down on the bed that she and Willow didn’t share. The tears fell and kept on falling. There was no rainbow waiting for her when the rain finally stopped; just more pain.

“Has Willow called?” Buffy asked, knowing that Dawn was always iffy about giving messages promptly (or at all).

“No. Duh. You think I wouldn’t tell you?”

“Like you told me about the time the water people called? We almost had the water turned off.”

“I told you.”

“Yeah, after the guy put a notice on the door!”

“Okay, maybe I was a little late telling you about that one, but I would tell you if Willow called, I swear.” Dawn meant it, too. She didn’t want to admit it, but she missed Willow and wished she would call – or come home, because that would be even better. And she wouldn’t even try to make Willow do her homework for her either.

Alright, maybe history, but that was it.

Buffy could feel the itch build again. It was getting worse all the time. She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t stop craving…

Why was Spike staying in L.A.? He and Angel hated each other; he should have been back ages ago. The thought suddenly occurred to her: What if Angel had dusted him? But that was silly, wasn’t it? Willow would have called if that had happened.

“Earth to Buffy,” Dawn said, noticing that look in her sister’s eyes – the one that was there all the time now. It was a look she was starting to hate because it meant Buffy was gone – not gone like dead, but gone all the same, even when she was in the same room. It hurt.

Sometimes Dawn wondered if Buffy wished she had jumped from the tower instead, if she wished Dawn had turned back into a shiny ball of energy and gone away forever.

“I’m here,” Buffy said. But Dawn knew she was lying.

“All I’m saying is that Willow seems just fine to me. And besides, running away from your problems is a bad thing. I mean, I can see why Buffy would suggest leaving town, seeing as how that’s how she deals with things, but that doesn’t make it right. How is Willow going to learn how to…?”

“That’s enough,” Angel interrupted, his voice harder than it had been with Cordelia in a long time. “Willow isn’t…” He softened his tone, wondering why he was so angry in the first place. “It’s not running away. She just needs to be somewhere safe for awhile. Somewhere she’s not being judged. And for as long as she needs it, I’m giving her that place.” He didn’t remind Cordelia of what Willow had just done for his son – for all of them. It wasn’t about that, anyway.

“I just think that she needs to show them that she’s all detoxed and reformed and all – which she sure seems to be to me – and she can’t do that here.”

In a way, he supposed Cordelia had a point. On the surface, Willow seemed fine, at least in terms of any so-called ‘addiction’. But she wasn’t fine. There was so much more going on than that. Angel only knew bits and pieces of facts about what had brought her to him, but what he could feel, what he could sense – no, this was not something that giving up spells was going to fix. There was damage that ran deep in Willow and he wasn’t going to throw her back in with the sharks until he was damn sure she could handle it… until he was damn sure they’d never hurt her again.

“She’s staying. For as long as she needs. For as long as she wants. That’s it. No more discussion.” Angel turned on his heel and left the office.

It was time for him to try to talk to Willow again.

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6907

From: help_sa2000@...
Date: Sat Oct 31, 2009 2:24 am
Subject: Cash Money

help_sa2000

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How To Make Internet Money

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#6906

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Thu Oct 29, 2009 5:34 pm
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) 4/? FRAO/NC-17

flamingointh...

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Title: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Four)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Spike/Angel (mentions of Spike/Buffy and Willow/Tara)

Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (eventually, but not yet)

Summary: *Set during Season Six of BTVS and Season Three of A:tS* When Willow's addiction to magic destroys her relationship with Tara and results in grave injury to Dawn, Buffy decides that Willow's recovery will go better away from the Hellmouth.

Word Count: 2829

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the outrageously awesome Purplefeen.

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is a very radical re-imagining of a long ago trilogy of mine which began with a story called Tangled Web. This story will differ in innumerable ways from that series.

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Four)

“When did you say this demon was supposed to make his grand entrance?” Spike groused. “Because it seems like we’ve been here for hours and the only demon around is me.” That last was a deliberate gibe at Angel.

The ‘hours’ Spike was going on about were, in actuality, only about twenty minutes. “Be patient, boy,” Angel answered, the slight occlusion of his jaw the only evidence that Spike’s taunt had gotten to him. “Tuvash said he had a meeting set up for 9:30 and it’s only five past.”

What the hell were they doing here anyway? That’s what Spike wanted to know. It was a bush league job; getting some low rent demon gang to stop running a protection racket by having a ‘chat’ with their erstwhile leader. Hell, Percy could probably have managed this one, if the research Fred had done on the L’vacs was anything to go by (though Spike found himself wishing they’d had Willow run the search for information instead). Why the hell bring in the big guns?

Of course, asking Angel questions was always a ridiculous waste of time. Spike didn’t bother. Instead, he just continued to complain. “Can’t even smoke in here. “

At that moment, a noise and a new scent alerted Angel to the fact that they had company – and the sight of their target seconds later told him that both Tuvash and Fred had left out some important details. “Did you know that this guy was seven feet tall?” Angel stage-whispered to Spike.

It wasn’t, however, the size of the demon that really created a problem. No, the problem was the fact that, contrary to expectations, he hadn’t come alone. A quick head count had told Angel there were now five of them.

“Mithra vin dahah!” the largest one yelled and Spike didn’t need to understand the words to know that they didn’t mean ‘sorry for the misunderstanding, we won’t be troubling you any further.’ Thank hell both he and Angel were armed.

“Alright then,” Spike said as he hoisted the axe he’d brought with him. “Let’s get this show on the road.” He swung on the beat of the last two words, and he caught one of the muscle types square in the side. Would have been great if that blow had done more than anger the lumbering git.

Much to his surprise, Angel was actually concerned for Spike when the blow he landed against the L’vac seemed to accomplish nothing more than pissing it off. No time to think about that, however, not when a second L’vac looked poised to do some real damage.

Without a word, Angel dashed to where Spike was holding the creature off and knocked him out of the way of a blow from what looked to be a rather large flail wielded by yet another one of the creatures.

What the bloody…? One minute he’d been doing a damn fine job of fighting off that damned L’vac and the next thing you know, he was on the ground, pinned by the body of his brooding bastard of a sire and…

Oh. The whiz of a flail over the both of them explained it all.

In spite of everything – his love for Buffy, his hatred of Angel – the fact that Angel had his back, the familiarity of the position in which he now found himself…his body responded.

Angel registered Spike’s reaction – it would have been hard to miss the familiar feel of Spike’s hardness against his thigh – but he pushed it to the back of his mind, getting up and resuming the fight. This wasn’t something he was interested in thinking about; not now, and maybe not ever, though knowing himself as he did, he was sure it would come back to haunt him.

He grabbed his own axe and swung it in a smooth, high arc. Oh. Good news. Fred had been right about one thing: decapitation worked like a charm on these guys.

“Aim for the head!” he yelled as Spike picked up his own axe and did just that. Another one down. Just three more to go. This ‘meeting’ with the L’vacs wasn’t going to be so difficult after all.

Other things, however…

“I’m sorry,” Willow said softly as she walked into Connor’s nursery. Lorne was cradling the baby, singing to him in a voice so low Willow could scarcely hear it.

He turned at the sound of her voice. “What are you sorry for, witchie-poo?”

Willow winced at the nickname, but he didn’t seem to notice and Willow made no verbal objection. “About your club, Caritas. I’m sorry you lost it.”

One eyebrow raised, but aside from that, Lorne didn’t comment. It wasn’t as if this girl had to sing a note for him to read her like a library full of tragic tales. He wished he couldn’t. Not for the first time, he wondered how the purest souls always seemed to wear sorrow like that ubiquitous duster of Spike’s. “Thanks,” he said, because that was the word she needed to hear.

“How is he?” Willow almost never spoke Connor’s name, fearing she’d somehow taint it by touching it with a tongue too accustomed to working spells.

“Just peachy,” Lorne lifted the bundle in his arms and held him out to her. “Would you like to…?”

No, she couldn’t touch the baby. If her tongue could harm him – and she was sure it could – how much more dangerous were her hands? “I’m not much good with kids,” she offered as an excuse.

Lorne didn’t push; Willow was grateful for that. She left as quietly as she had come, wondering why she’d entered the room at all.

As he watched her leave, Lorne began singing again to Connor. It was a happy song, because that was what Lorne needed to hear.

Willow wandered through the hotel now, itchy and restless, as if she were looking for something. Funny thing about that was that she had no idea what she was looking for. It was only when she thought about magic again that she realized what it was.

Withdrawal – the withdrawal she wasn’t going through even though she hadn’t done a spell since she’d sent Holtz hurtling into another dimension.

How could that be?

It had to be some sort of residual high she was still feeling keeping it at bay, right? Any day, any hour, any minute, the shakes would come; the cold and the nausea and the ache that whistled through her bones like the wind. She would go back to her room and wait. It would be here soon.

Spike was unusually silent as Angel drove the both of them home. It was frankly disturbing. Spike was normally giddy and prone to talking a mile a minute after a night of killing – the closest thing Angel had ever seen was someone high on cocaine or amphetamines. Not tonight, though; tonight Spike was quiet and sullen and moody, staring out the window of the car and not offering a word to fill the emptiness.

“You did a good job back there,” Angel said, throwing sounds at the target like darts and hoping they hit the bulls-eye.

“Yeah” was all Spike had to say in return.

Angel gave up.

The car stayed quiet, and that was a good thing. Peaches had finally shut his stupid gob. For a moment Spike had been terrified that there was gonna be some ‘rah-rah’ speech about how he was part of the team now. He didn’t want to be on anyone’s bloody team, thank you very much – not the Scoobies and sure as hell not this Apple Dumpling Gang his grand-sire had cobbled together.

And that bit of hard he’d gotten when Angel was on top of him didn’t mean a damn thing.

When they got back to the hotel, Spike needed to talk to Willow; see if there was some way this plan of theirs could be kicked into high gear. The sooner he had the Slayer begging for a taste again, the better.

Willow was propped up uncomfortably on the bed as she nearly dozed off waiting for the withdrawal to destroy her fragile peace when a knock at the door roused her. “Spike?” she asked.

The door opened and it wasn’t who she’d thought (hoped) it would be. “I’m sorry,” Wesley said, his voice reserved and low, a different kind of British from Spike, so very different. “I wished to speak with you, but if this is a bad time…”

“No, it’s okay.” It wasn’t, but she swung her legs off the bed where she’d been anticipating the pain. “I was just thinking, that’s all.”

“I… I wanted to offer you my apology. I should have said something to Angel – I should have said something right away, in fact.”

“It’s okay,” she lied again.

“No, it isn’t.” You could have knocked Willow down with a feather when Wesley said that. She was wary now, waiting to see what trap was about to be sprung with his next words. “This… We’re not in Sunnydale anymore.”

That was supposed to be an explanation, and oddly, when Willow thought about it, it was. It also told her why Wesley was having this conversation with her late at night. Fatigue made his inhibitions lose their stranglehold. Maybe alcohol had played a role as well.

“No, we’re not,” she said softly. “Everything’s different now.”

Perhaps they’d have managed to start a conversation a few (or many) minutes later, but it wasn’t to be.

Spike heard the sound of Percy’s voice before he even opened Willow’s door. Thank hell for small favours. Now this was a way to get the ball rolling. He worked himself up into his customary post-battle state and burst through Willow’s door.

“Hail the conquering hero, pet,” he crowed, acting as if he had no idea there was anyone in the room with her as he pulled her to her feet and then spun her around. “Chopped the heads off three of the stupid buggers all by myself.” He turned and feigned discomfiture as he pretended to notice Wesley for the first time. “Sorry. Didn’t know you had company.”

“That’s quite all right,” Wesley replied. “Willow and I had just finished.” He assessed the pair, though he kept his expression neutral and his eyes unfocused. Enough time spent with a vampire, you learned the language they read and you did your best to keep from printing words on the page. “Good night.” Of course he was addressing Willow – he had no regard for Spike – but the words could have been meant for both. With that, he left, carefully thinking about what he’d just witnessed, wondering if it was something he ought to discuss with Angel.

When the door closed, Spike’s grin changed; it became calculated and demonic. “Bet Percy’s gone off to tell Peaches that the Big Bad Wolf is about to eat Little Red Riding Hood all up.” It was all he could do not to rub his hands together in glee.

Willow smiled back at him. It was a very different smile from his. “That’s good, right?” It was nice to see Spike happy. Someone should be and she figured Spike deserved it more than she did.

“The sooner everyone gets all riled up about our sweet romance, the sooner word gets back to your pals and Glinda and Buffy come crawling to us.” Spike was careful to mention Willow’s pet witch first.

It was strange, though. She smiled again, but it felt…off. The words were there but not the music. “What’s wrong, Red? Did the second-string Watcher give you grief or something?” Oddly, he found himself feeling just a bit of genuine concern. Guess he and the chit were friends now or something. Not hard to care about someone who asked for nothing and gave everything. Too bad that was never the type he fell for. Glinda was one lucky bitch, though she didn’t have the sense to know it. Red ought to make her crawl over hot coals on her hands and knees before she took her back.

“No, it’s just…”

“It’s just…” Spike prompted, as if he actually wanted her to finish the sentence, as if what was wrong with her actually mattered to him. It hurt in the sharp, painful way that remembering the way Tara used to look at her did.

“I keep waiting for the withdrawal and… I don’t feel it. It’s been days and I don’t feel it.”

It was funny, hilarious even, and really, with anyone else in the role of narrator, this was a tale that would split Spike’s sides, but not now, not with Willow. What kind of a girl was sad and worried because she wasn’t doubled over in agony?

Part of it, he supposed, was that he was oddly curious himself. She’d whipped out a real bag of tricks there, more than he’d ever seen her use in Sunnydale, and if the rules were as simple as magic = hocus pocus heroin, then Willow should be vomiting up everything she’d eaten since last year into the institutional-white commode in the adjoining bath; she should be shaking and crying and desperate for a fix. In fact, all of that should have started happening at least a day ago.

“I don’t know,” he said, following her lead and sitting on the edge of the bed just after she did.

Those words were comforting, though that didn’t really make much sense, did it? Maybe it was just that it was a relief to have someone admit they just didn’t know – no pretending that they either had the answers or knew that someone else would. Spike’s honesty was as close to a blessing as she felt likely to ever receive. It was simply there and real and commonplace, though it wasn’t actually common at all.

Spike put his arm around her, letting her rest her head against his shoulder. He flashed back to a time when his head had rested on hers. Funny the way things twisted – and the way they didn’t. Because just like that long-ago day in the burned out warehouse, he had the urge to talk about his feelings. If anyone could make sense of the twisted mess that was…

“So…you think this plan’s going to work soon?” she asked.

The moment was gone. “Yeah. Sure thing. ‘S my plan. It’s bound to work.”

He gave her a cheeky grin and she gazed at him with eyes more innocent than that brat Angel called his only child. Yes sir, Willow had given him sound advice, whether she knew it or not. Keep your mind on the plan and don’t get distracted. Soon – so soon – he’d be back on the Hellmouth with Buffy in his bed. He wouldn’t even remember the abdominal twitch he’d had for his bastard of a souled sire.

Willow just stayed quiet, letting Spike have the last word. She wouldn’t miss this, she told herself, when they were home. She would have Tara and Spike would have Buffy and there’d be no need for a chill arm around her or someone to make it okay for some things to not be okay at all. Everything would be wonderful.

Angel walked even more stealthily than was his wont into Connor’s nursery. There was something about the sight of his child that still seemed so miraculous to him, that made him fear doing something to wake himself up from the dream he must be having.

If he’d expected the vision of his sleeping son to clear his head, however, he was sadly mistaken. All it did was remind him of how complicated things really were.

Spike’s reaction to him tonight…sure, it could probably be explained as just Spike’s normal response to the prospect of bloodshed and some sort of instinctive reaction to the presence of family, but that didn’t mean it was something he could ignore.

Then there was Willow, who needed help and succor and protection even as she carried within her a power the likes of which Angel had never seen. She was in pain and she was in trouble and Angel found himself compelled to do everything in his power to heal her, a purity of intent he could not with any claim to sanity ascribe to Spike. What was his demon’s proudest creation looking for in Willow? What game was Spike playing with her?

That was something he needed to know, and it was a compelling reason to keep the boy here under a watchful eye rather than sending him back to use his craft and guile to manipulate the others into summoning Willow back long before she was ready – when she might yet be an easy mark for whatever twisted con game Spike was working.

With a last look at Connor, Angel left the nursery. His thoughts remained in a tumult and he needed to be alone where he could deal with them without distraction.

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6905

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Tue Oct 27, 2009 5:17 pm
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) 3/? NC-17/FRAO

flamingointh...

Offline

Title: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Three)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Spike/Angel (mentions of Spike/Buffy and Willow/Tara)

Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (eventually, but not yet)

Summary: *Set during Season Six of BTVS and Season Three of A:tS* When Willow's addiction to magic destroys her relationship with Tara and results in grave injury to Dawn, Buffy decides that Willow's recovery will go better away from the Hellmouth.

Word Count: 3128

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the outrageously awesome Purplefeen.

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is a very radical re-imagining of a long ago trilogy of mine which began with a story called Tangled Web. This story will differ in innumerable ways from that series.

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Three)

“So what did Willow have to say?” Buffy asked Xander, trying to be casual, which shouldn’t have been tough in her own kitchen. Her eyes wanted to focus on the fridge or the toaster, but she did her best to keep them on her friend. He’d know something was up if she couldn’t look at him.

She hated herself. The question she really wanted answered was ‘when was Spike coming back?’ and that was wrong in so many ways that she couldn’t even count them. What had she become? When had her priorities gotten so screwed up? Willow was her best friend – she loved her, she did – and yet, more than her return, Buffy found herself aching for a thing she didn’t even like.

But that didn’t change the fact that she burned with the need to know why Spike was still in L.A. and not back here where he…no, he didn’t belong, would never belong. Get a grip. If Willow could admit she had a problem and even agree to leave town in order to deal with it, then surely Buffy could use Spike’s absence to deal with her own addiction, not that it was actually that pressing of an issue, or even an addiction at all, in fact.

No, it was just…it had been awhile since she’d had any sex, let alone sex with a guy who could handle a Slayer at full throttle. That was it – that had to be it. She was horny and he’d been there. This was not an addiction and she’d be over it any day now. She didn’t need Spike; she didn’t want Spike.

Somehow, though, she’d gotten lost in her thoughts and she’d managed to miss every word Xander had just said.

The look on Buffy’s face – Xander hated himself for thinking this, but he would swear she wasn’t paying attention to anything he was saying. And while, yeah, that would sting no matter what, this was about Willow and Buffy should care. Shouldn’t she? Didn’t she?

“Earth to Buffy,” he said with a grin, playing the role he found way too comfortable. Someday, he was going to put the court jester costume away. But that day wasn’t today.

“Sorry. I guess I was thinking about Willow and…” She gave him that rueful yet winsome ‘Buffy’ smile, the one that always served as a ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card. That was another thing that wasn’t changing today, but it should, and Xander knew it.

“She just said that she’s staying clean, helping out in the office, keeping herself busy.” That wasn’t exactly true, and it wasn’t even what Xander had said before, but it was what he knew Buffy wanted to hear.

There would be a time – not anytime soon, but the day would come – when he would realize that he had learned a lot, too much, about the game by standing on the sidelines.

“That’s good,” Buffy replied, the words as meaningless as random sounds. She tried to be cool and offhand as she posed the question she couldn’t stop herself from asking. “Did she say anything about Spike?”

“I didn’t ask. She didn’t say. Frankly, I’m enjoying the peace and quiet without him around. And the idea that he’s driving Angel nuts? Bonus.”

Buffy didn’t speak for a moment; searching for the right thing to say was harder than it should have been. “Isn’t it about time you stopped hating Angel?”

Xander looked at her with his ‘are you kidding?’ face. That expression had once been so familiar and it made her ache for the old days, the days when it was the three of them against the world – best friends forever. The Willow-missage she’d been, well, missing was suddenly there. “I want her to come home, too, Xander. You know that, right? If I didn’t think this was the only way…” Her voice broke as she closed her eyes for a moment. I will not cry. I will not cry. “But she’ll lick this thing. She will. And then she’ll be right back here where she belongs.”

Buffy believed that; she did. And as she pulled Xander into a hug that felt more like what it should be than anything had since she’d returned, she thought maybe everything would be back to what it should be someday soon.

Angel knocked on Willow’s door. The call from Xander had to have affected her and this seemed like a good time for him to start being the friend he wanted to be.

“Come in,” he heard her say, so he opened the door and walked into her room.

While he might have expected her to be a little emotional, he wasn’t prepared for the tear-stained face he saw. “Are you okay?” he asked. It was a foolish question; of course she wasn’t okay. He hated himself more when he saw her paste on a smile. The last thing he wanted to do was prompt her to cover up her real feelings, but he knew she thought that’s what was best – because she was sure that he didn’t really care about her pain.

“I’m fine,” she said, lying bravely.

He’d intended to thank her for all she’d done, to tell her how grateful he was to her for saving his son. But with an insight he wished he had more often, he realized that now would be the wrong time. If he was going to build a friendship with her, a real one, he couldn’t have her believe that the only reason he was there was because he felt like he owed her something.

Instead, he sat down on her bed and said, “No, you’re not.”

If he could have said anything more unsettling, it might have been something about losing his soul, but barring that, this was about as difficult as Willow figured conversation could get. “I’m okay, really. See?” she said, pointing to her painted-on grin. “This is me being fine.” That might have worked better if she wasn’t sure he could hear the nasal whine that spoke of recent tears under her words.

“You don’t have to pretend.”

Yeah right. Sure thing. Because hey, she and Angel had been buds forever, Oh wait, they hadn’t. She wasn’t sure she understood what Angel was doing, why he was going through the motions this way. You couldn’t just dangle something like that in front of someone. Was Angel as much of a sadist as his demon or something? Willow was tired and weak and terrified that the craving for magic would come back any minute; she missed home and Xander and Buffy, and oh god the agony of that empty place where Tara was supposed to be right beside her.

Of course she had to pretend.

“I’m not pretending.”

Angel had a choice right now: he could back down, accept her words as truth, or he could push, and risk angering her. Something told him to take the latter road. “You are, Willow, and you don’t have to. Not with me.”

“Why not?”

He’d been right. Because at least what he’d finally gotten from her was honesty. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned their ‘getting to know you’ talk, but maybe it was all the better to plunge into the deep end and prove himself right away. “Because I want to be your friend. Let me prove that to you.”

What was Willow supposed to say to that? She felt as if, through this whole encounter, she had been walking on a tightrope in high heels. If he’d said he was her friend…but no, he said he wanted to be, and that was such a different thing altogether. He’d made an offer of effort and earning and…

“Look, we can talk about anything you like, and you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. All I want you to know is that you don’t have to lie to me either. Okay?”

Her heel slipped and her balance was gone; Willow could feel herself falling, hands reaching out too late to try and grab the rope. But before she hit the ground, she was caught.

It took time for her to recognize the hiccupping sobs as her own, to register that she was being held, and when she did, she was being guided to the bed by Angel. He didn’t say a word; somehow that was comforting.

“Thank you.” The words were almost whispered and despite being commonplace, right now they were anything but. Angel heard so much more than the perfunctory in their soft depths.

“You’re welcome.” He told her he wouldn’t push, and to him it was a promise. Friends kept promises.

Willow sat silent for a time as tears continued to roll down her cheeks, waiting for Angel to ask questions. The questions never came. And somehow, despite the echoes of times past when other voices had beckoned and then left before she’d even finished saying the words they’d offered to listen to, belief began to take hold (she called it belief because the word ‘trust’ was too terrifying).

“I can’t go home,” she said softly. “I can never go home.” There was no clock, but she could hear the seconds tick by all the same. Angel didn’t argue with her; didn’t tell her that she was wrong. Should she bless him for his honesty or hate him for…his honesty?

“Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer. I’m just asking.” Angel said after what seemed even to him like an eternity. Her eyes were wide and liquid as she nodded. “What happened? Why do you think you have to give up magic?” Okay, that was two questions, but he hoped she’d forgive the accretion.

Hadn’t Buffy told him? Oh, she forgot – Buffy hadn’t spoken to Angel. That had been Wesley, who’d told her that little fact in practically the only conversation they’d had since she arrived. Guess it wasn’t too surprising, though, that he wanted nothing to do with her. It wasn’t like they’d ever been friends. But it was surprising that he never said anything to Angel.

“I’m a junkie,” she said. The revulsion she expected to see on Angel’s face wasn’t there yet. It looked like she’d have to say more to lose this shiny new ‘belief’ before she got attached. “I was looking for a fix from my magic dealer and things went wrong and…and I almost got Dawn killed.”

If Angel was supposed to understand things any better because of this explanation, something must have been lost along the way, because he was almost scratching his head in bewilderment. Willow had power of her own. Why had she ever felt the need to go to a dealer? Unless she’d lost her center and been using her power frivolously, but that wasn’t Willow…was it? And besides, she clearly hadn’t lost her way completely because she’d just saved them all from a demon attack and her power had stayed well under her command.

There would be no more chances to ask questions for now, however.

A sharp rat-a-tat on the door before it was opened announced that they had company. “Red, how was the phone call from Xander?” Spike asked as he entered. Great, just who Angel wanted to see.

Spike figured he couldn’t possibly have picked a better moment. While he’d intended to talk to her about her conversation with Chubs anyway, no harm in waiting until they had an audience and it could be turned to his – well their – advantage, now was there? “Didn’t know you were chatting with Angel. Sorry.” He let a tiny hint of jealousy colour his expression for a second or two.

“No, it’s okay.” Willow found herself almost smiling. Spike’s presence reminded her that there might be a thin ray of hope after all – their plan. No, she didn’t really believe it would work, but she wanted to believe it would and that was at least something; it gave her a reason to keep trying.

It shouldn’t bother Angel that Willow’s smile was closer to genuine for Spike than it was for him. After all, she knew him better, had spent much more time with him, and that was all Angel’s fault. But it did bother him and that wasn’t a good thing. He needed to leave before Spike figured out he had a weakness and then figured out a way to exploit it.

“I really need to get back to the office. I’ve got work to do.” He stood up, smooth and casual without a trace of awkwardness. “If you need me, you know where to find me.” That was said meaningfully, eyes focused right on Willow’s. And this time Angel was the one who got the smile that was almost the real thing.

“Thanks, Angel.” Willow wondered why she said it, except she was supposed to, or why she smiled at him, but she was so confused by everything that had just happened between them that she had no idea how she felt at all. Spike’s presence grounded her and she was glad of it. His kind of honesty was straightforward and easy to read, definitely a blessing in a life turned madly upside-down.

Angel smiled back at Willow before turning and nodding at the party-crasher. “Spike.” Time to leave. So he did, and with just short of too much alacrity. It crossed his mind as he left that Spike had been supposed to turn right around and return to Sunnydale, But even now, it never occurred to Angel to ask him to go.

“So, pet,” Spike said once the door had closed and Angel’s footsteps had disappeared from his hearing. “What was going on with the Great Poof?”

“He just wanted to know why I have to give up magic. Wesley never got around to telling him.” That didn’t come as a shock to Spike, but when he thought about it, he wondered how he’d tumbled to the barely perceptible rift in the group. He’d been off his game for so long it was amazing to him how close to the surface his demonic instincts actually were. When was the last time he’d read people the way he was reading them now?

If he owed his proximity to Angel for this, he might have to hate the bastard even more.

The office wasn’t empty when Angel entered and he was glad of that, because the person there was the one he most wanted to see. He could have asked other questions, better ones, been more of a friend to Willow if only… “Wesley, is there a reason you didn’t share what Buffy told you about Willow?” If he'd been guessing when he asked the question, the expression on the man's face when he answered turned theory to cold, hard fact.

“I… We all were so busy with Darla and then what happened with Connor and… I suppose I believed she’d told you herself by now. I apologize.”

A part of Angel wanted to push, wanted to start an argument, but he didn’t. Now was not the time. The group needed to stay united. Connor was a target, would remain a target, perhaps for all of his life. Acting out because of petty grievances would just have to fall by the wayside. So again there was a nod before Angel turned and left a room.

Tara knocked on the door to Buffy’s house. It used to sort of be her house, didn’t it? Once upon a time she and Willow had shared a room here and been happy. Those days seemed as far away as a fairy tale – as far away as Willow.

“Hey, Dawn.” She smiled and tried to be cheerful as the young girl stood in the doorway, clearly so happy to see her. Dawn was precious to her and the last thing Tara wanted was for her to feel responsible for any of the sorrow in Tara’s heart. “Is Buffy here?”

“Nope. She’s at work. But I’m here.” Dawn’s whole face was taken over by a toothy grin; she grabbed Tara by the hand and almost dragged her into the house. “Hey, guys, can we let Tara join the game now or do we have to start over?” That answered one question. At least Buffy hadn’t left Dawn all alone. Being all alone really sucked. “We’re playing Monopoly,” Dawn explained as she kept hold of Tara’s hand and pulled her through the foyer and the living room to the table where Xander and Anya were sitting around a game board laden with houses and hotels.

“Hi,” she said, her voice sounding oddly out of place to her own ears. Nothing more than how she felt right now spoke of just how disconnected she was from these people with Willow gone. They’d risked their lives together and she felt as if she barely knew them. It would be different if Willow were here; everything would be different if Willow were here.

“Have you…?” Tara haltingly asked when Xander acknowledged her greeting with a gesture and a half-smile.

“Xander called Willow today and they talked for twenty minutes,” Anya said, staring coldly at Tara.

“How…how is she?”

“She’s hangin’ in there. You know our Will. She’s keeping busy, keeping her mind off, you know, magic-type things, she’s…” Xander tried, but he couldn’t stop his voice from breaking. He was pretty sure it was unfair of him, but a part of him was angry at Tara. If she’d just stuck by Willow, his best friend would still be here. She’d never have gotten so addicted if she hadn’t been alone. Bad things only happened to Willow when she was alone. He tried not to think about the fact that he hadn’t been there either. Oh sure, he’d seen things, but he’d stood on the sidelines and waited for someone else to do something about them.

He sucked.

Everyone was quiet, even Anya, each one waiting for the other one to say something.

The one who finally did was Dawn. “Buffy says Willow’s gonna be better in no time. She says that Angel knows people who can help Willow and any day now she’ll be home. And that makes sense, you know, because Spike’s still there. I mean, there’s no way Spike would still be there if Willow wasn’t going to be coming right home.”

It was a good argument, and if it wouldn’t stand up to intense scrutiny, it wasn’t as if Xander was going to subject it to any.

Neither was Tara.

“So, do we have to start the game over or can Tara just join in?” Dawn asked again. It was a silly question. Anya had two hotels on Park Place - no way was she going to give those up. Tara sat down at the table and selected a game piece. It didn’t matter that she was at a disadvantage; she was getting used to losing.

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6904

From: "saraahichick" <saraahichick@...>
Date: Sun Oct 25, 2009 11:11 am
Subject: Do u think this picture is funny?

saraahichick

Offline

LOL, I found a very funny picture and wanna know your opinion. Do u think this
picture is funny? Check the funny picture here:
http://funnyoopic.zoomshare.com/files/funny.htm

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#6903

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Sat Oct 24, 2009 12:49 am
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) 2/? FRAO/NC-17

flamingointh...

Offline

Title: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Two)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Spike/Angel (mentions of Spike/Buffy and Willow/Tara)

Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (eventually, but not yet)

Summary: *Set during Season Six of BTVS and Season Three of A:tS* When Willow's addiction to magic destroys her relationship with Tara and results in grave injury to Dawn, Buffy decides that Willow's recovery will go better away from the Hellmouth.

Word Count: 2760

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the outrageously awesome Purplefeen.

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is a very radical re-imagining of a long ago trilogy of mine which began with a story called Tangled Web. This story will differ in innumerable ways from that series.

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Two)

“Pet, if you’re gonna stay in the game without magic, you’re gonna have to learn to fight.” Frankly, Spike was amazed at how little Red knew about hand to hand combat or weapons. No wonder the chit got so hooked on using spells. Didn’t have any other way to defend herself, now did she? The Watcher hadn’t had to leave town to abandon her – he’d never been there at all.

He didn’t allow himself to think about the fact that Rupert Giles wasn’t the only one who could have and should have taught the girl how to take care of herself.

“Have I mentioned that I would have flunked Phys Ed if I hadn’t ghostwritten an article for a fitness magazine for the coach?” Willow tried to be lighthearted and joke about it, but the truth was that she was ashamed of her own ineptitude. One more screw-up to add to a list as long as the road between here and home; one more screw-up that meant there was more wrong with her than her weakness and addiction.

“Piffle. You’re more fit than ya think. We’ve just gotta teach you what to do with your body, that’s all.” The expression on Spike’s face suddenly changed. A bit of a smirk appeared and an aura of flirtation. Guess they weren’t alone anymore. Willow willed herself not to startle when Spike put his hand on her shoulder in a familiar way just before their visitor came into the room.

“Hey, Angel,” she offered as Spike withdrew his hand in a perfect simulacrum of conscious guilt.

The sound of voices had drawn him here and Angel was glad that it had. Something about Spike’s attentions to Willow in the last two days – it just didn’t seem right. He knew he was probably mistaken, just as he was sure Fred had been, but it was still worth keeping an eye on all the same. The last thing Willow needed was Spike pestering her with unwanted advances.

“Peaches,” Spike greeted him with typical disdain. “Just trying to teach Red here a thing or two about fighting.”

Oddly, considering it was Spike’s idea, Angel found himself thinking that it made a lot of sense. What he wondered about was why she’d never learned before now. Of course, that reminded him of something – he needed to have a talk with her. While Wesley had told him that Buffy felt Willow needed to be here to deal with some problem she supposedly had with magic, he wanted to hear from Willow just why she felt it imperative to give it up. From where Angel stood, it was a good thing she had the power she had; without it, he might not have a son.

“Can’t I just stand on the sidelines the way I used to?” Willow asked. She really wasn’t looking forward to this. “I am perfectly okay with going back to being research gal.” That was a lie, but she wanted it to be true, wanted so badly to embrace the life fate had laid out for her, the life she’d tried to escape with spells, the life that had almost robbed Dawn of hers.

“Nonsense. ‘Bout time you stopped depending on the others to protect you, I’d say.” Spike didn’t mention Giles and his failure to suggest that same thing. No point, really. The chit still held tight to her misplaced hero worship. Hell, she probably blamed herself for his leaving town. That wouldn’t be a surprise seeing as how she blamed herself for damn near everything.

“I have to agree, Willow. I don’t understand why no one bothered to train you before this. Even with…” Angel stopped himself right before mentioning magic. “I mean, it’s never a bad thing to know how to defend yourself.”

Spike snickered behind his hand. Nice tact there, Poof. Still, he had to admit that he enjoyed the fact that his grand-sire was forced to concede that he’d come up with a brilliant idea.

And he just came up with an even better one.

“Tell you what. Why don’t Angelus and I demonstrate a couple of simple moves for you and then you and I can try them, okay?” He couldn’t resist needling Angel. “I’ll be the big, bad vampire. And Peaches? You can be the poor, defenseless human.”

“Wrong, boy,” Angel nearly growled. “I’m the vampire.” There was no chance that he was giving up rank, even if it was just a training demonstration. He’d sired the one who’d sired Spike and it was about time to get back the respect he was due.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the idea that there might be some other reason for his need to assert dominance formed as well. He flashed back to the sight of Willow, crackling with power, conquering Holtz with an ease that made his demon roar with envy. But the thought slipped away so fast he couldn’t hold onto it. It might never have existed at all.

“Are you afraid I’ll see how much of a poof you are?”

Angel chuckled; it was a sound that came from the demon, not the man. “Not a bit, Spike. It’s just that you have so much more practice being helpless against me. It’ll make for a better demonstration.”

Willow wished she could laugh. The posturing should have been humourous, shouldn’t it? But it wasn’t. There was history behind it; history and pain and ties that bound these two in a way she had never known before. It made her ache, but she wasn’t sure why (or perhaps she knew and just couldn’t bear to think of it).

From somewhere inside of herself, she pulled out the girl she used to be and tried to smooth things over between the two men. “Spike, if you show me the moves you want to teach me, it will be a lot easier when we do this ourselves.” She remembered their plan and gave him a short burst of the gaze she’d once sincerely offered Oz.

He smiled back at her. It was a beguiling smile, free of sarcasm or cruelty, and she wondered if he’d ever looked that way at Drusilla. “Anything for you, pet.” It turned back into his usual snarky expression almost immediately. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”

If Spike had to play this role, he was damn sure gonna have fun with it. He began a rather broad burlesque. “Oh my,” he said in a melodramatic falsetto. “I’m lost in the middle of the cemetery without a souled poof in sight. Whatever will I do?” He fluttered his eyelashes, then held the back of his hand to his head in an extravagant, silent-movie gesture. “I hope there aren’t any demons about.”

Angel rolled his eyes at Spike’s antics. The boy never took anything seriously. Well, if he was expecting Angel to take the same ridiculous tone, he was sorely mistaken. Training Willow was important. He didn’t want the girl who’d defended his son so valiantly to ever be left helpless.

Without warning, he grabbed Spike from behind.

The game was over before it began. While Spike had every intention of making this at least a partially useful demonstration, it all flew out the window at the feel of Angel’s arm around his neck. It was as if they’d gone back in time – the old days again with games played for stakes of blood and pain and… Spike didn’t let himself think. Even as the memories washed over him, he did his best not to register that they were there.

So he fought – not as a human with the tricks a human might use to get the drop on a creature of superior strength, but as one demon against another, winner take all.

The hair caught in his hand was stiff with bleach and product, but to Angel’s fingers it felt brown and soft and he half-expected to see it curl around his fingers. He’d show the boy that nothing had changed. Angel was still his sire, and Spike, for all his airs, was still William –the William who never stopped trying to best him, the same William who was eternally condemned to be brought to heel. And with an audience, an audience whose respect Angel was determined to command? The breaking would be the swifter and more decisive.

Another blow from Spike’s fist, but Angel caught it, then lifted him and hurled him halfway across the room.

He should have known this would happen, that no fight with Spike could ever be play or half-measure. Somewhere, he’d lost where this had started, and his soul sat quietly in a corner, allowing the demon to do its work. This was war.

The fight had begun so suddenly and Willow was stunned by what she saw. It didn’t take much time for her to figure out that Spike wasn’t showing her what he expected her to be able to do. No, what was going on between him and Angel was something personal and primal and…strange. It was a kind of violence she didn’t understand and she felt helpless before it, not because she was worried that it would touch her, but maybe because she knew it existed in a world she could never enter. She was all alone, observing this brutal duel from behind a thick pane of one-way glass.

More blows fell and both combatants wore the faces of their demons, but what terrified her was how this had turned into a lesson she had never signed up for – a class that was taking her to places even Buffy had never been. With all her heart, she wanted – no needed – to get back on solid, familiar ground. “Hey,” she called out, hoping she was wearing her Resolve Face. “I thought this was supposed to be about teaching me to fight.”

Angel had him pinned to the floor, his strength sending a current into Spike’s limbs, stirring sensations he had thought long gone and wished still were, when Willow’s voice blessedly brought them both out of the haze of battle. Angel got up first, but Spike angrily ignored the hand the smug bastard offered him and got up on his own power.

Why the hell had he ever suggested this bloody stupid demonstration. Like Darla, there were things you just didn’t want resurrected. And this? Well whatever it was he was feeling right now was something confusing and he had more than enough on his plate, thank you very much, what with trying to make Buffy realize he was her one and only. Peaches was a memory, and Buffy’s memory at that; that was all he was, all Spike would allow him to be.

But before Spike could say anything cutting and get things set right, someone else walked into the room.

It was a pity Willow had insisted the fight end when it did, but Angel was pretty sure she interrupted them to be kind and to spare Spike from further humiliation. It had to have been obvious who was the inevitable victor. He was feeling almost jubilant when Fred walked in and he favored her with a smile. “What is it?”

“Sorry to,” she looked around the room, obviously noticing the disarray, “disturb you, but I was looking for Willow.” Angel watched calmly as Fred’s wide eyes took in a broken chair before lighting on Willow. “Oh, there you are. There’s someone on the phone for you. He said his name was Xander.”

“Xander?” Willow asked, her chest tightening. Was something wrong? He couldn’t – wouldn’t – just be calling to talk, would he? “You guys okay if I take this?” She was worried. If she left the room, would the fight start again? They nodded and Willow decided she had to take them at their word, even if that word was only a gesture and she departed with Fred.

“What was going on in there?” Fred asked the moment they were out of the room.

“They were just demonstrating some fighting techniques for me. I need to learn how to defend myself.”

Fred stared for a moment, disconcertingly shrewd and disbelieving, but she said nothing, simply turned and headed in the other direction rather than follow Willow into the office. Willow wasn’t at all sure where she stood with the young woman. Fred’s sweet exterior wasn’t exactly the whole story.

At least, though, she was giving Willow some privacy to talk to Xander, despite the fact that Willow wasn’t certain she was ready to talk to him. She was going to have to lie, at least by omission, and it hurt already.

Still, she picked up the phone, holding the receiver as if it were some potentially dangerous animal. “Hey,” she said, trying hard to sound casual.

“Hey,” he answered. Was it her imagination or was he trying even harder than she was?

As much as he’d hated the seemingly endless wait for Willow to finally get on the phone, the sound of her voice almost froze him. Xander had known that he missed her, but somehow, it was harder now – hearing her on the phone, realizing that a short walk wouldn’t take him to see her, hating himself for allowing Buffy to send her away like some leper – wait a minute, did they send lepers away anymore? Willow would know, but he couldn’t ask her, could he? “How are you?” he asked, struggling to find something to say, which made no sense since there were so many things he wanted to say to her.

“Is something wrong?” she asked. He realized with a startling sort of insight that she thought there had to be an ulterior motive for his call. Xander felt the words like a blow. What had happened to them? How had they gotten here?

“I just…I just wanted to talk to you, that’s all.” His throat tightened and he fought not to cry.

Willow was silent for what could have been a few seconds or a few hours for all she knew. Xander’s words were the last thing she expected to hear and she had no idea what to say to him. She felt something and it scared her – hope, after all, had been stored in a box with so many terrible things.

With a tongue heavy and unsure, she lied, “That’s…I’m glad you called.”

“Wonder what Chubs wants to talk to her about,” Spike said, even as he boggled at the fact he was making conversation with Angel.

Angel simply shrugged, refusing to react or opine. He assumed the boy was checking up on her, spying, and he hoped Willow had the good sense not to tell him anything. Not that Angel was worried about his own secrets. If he trusted in one thing, it was Willow’s honour and he knew she’d never tell her friends – tell Buffy – about Connor without express permission. He only hoped she treated herself with the same delicacy.

“They probably can’t remember how to turn on the bloody computer,” Spike offered, his nerves making him answer his own question. He just hoped she was sticking to their plan and not saying anything to the whelp about their supposedly blossoming romance. The key was to let third parties spill the beans. With any luck, Fred had made a pointed remark or two, though he doubted that. It would probably take more time – and frankly, his money was on the cheerleader to open her trap first.

Spike might be right about the reason for Xander's call, though for Willow’s sake Angel hoped there was some friendlier purpose behind it. It had to hurt, being forced out of town by the people you loved most. What he hoped the call was not about was Willow returning to Sunnydale.

After all this time, after everything she’d done for him, he barely knew her. That needed to change. Angel was beginning to realize that Willow Rosenberg was an amazing woman. It was high time that they became friends. For that to happen, she needed to stay here.

Now he was wound up. “I’m gonna go check on Connor.” Without another word or a look back, Angel headed out the door and up to his son’s room.

That was typical, wasn’t it? Angelus had the attention span of a gnat; always lighting upon something new and shiny which tempted him away. Spike almost pitied the newborn brat. How long before Daddy forgot about him? Treated him like those canaries of Dru’s?

He kicked at the pieces of the broken chair and then stormed back to his room. There was whiskey there and Spike needed a drink.

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

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#6902

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Fri Oct 23, 2009 5:19 pm
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) 2/? FRAO/NC-17

flamingointh...

Offline

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

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#6901

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Tue Oct 20, 2009 5:24 pm
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) 1/? FRAO/NC-17

flamingointh...

Offline

Title: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter One)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Spike/Angel (mentions of Spike/Buffy and Willow/Tara)

Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (eventually, but not yet)

Summary: *Set during Season Six of BTVS and Season Three of A:tS* When Willow's addiction to magic destroys her relationship with Tara and results in grave injury to Dawn, Buffy decides that Willow's recovery will go better away from the Hellmouth.

Word Count: 2711

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the outrageously awesome Purplefeen.

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is a very radical re-imagining of a long ago trilogy of mine which began with a story called Tangled Web. This story will differ in innumerable ways from that series.

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter One)

Angel had a son, a son Darla had staked herself to save.

It was something Spike didn’t think he could wrap his head around, even now, even after having had a few days to get used to it, even after he and Red had risked their lives – and thrown her precious magic-sobriety out the window – to protect the little brat.

Of course, the boy sure had needed protection. Who knew that many demons wanted to get their hands on a mewling infant? While it had happened, and Spike wasn't the only one who had the battle scars to prove it, he found it hard to believe there was so much fuss over that baby. Over a century as a demon and he’d never been in a fight like that one – never – and frankly, it made no sense. Connor looked and smelled and seemed in every way like any other human brat – of course, both parents were vampires. But hell, the little bugger’s face didn’t even change. You’d think there’d at least be fangs. And the kid was nowhere near ugly enough to be related to Peaches…or Darla, for that matter. Self-sacrifice notwithstanding, Spike remembered her cruelty and jealousy too well to think of her as anything but the ugliest bitch in Hell’s creation. Hopefully she’d stay dust this time.

“Thanks for staying.” The voice – and the words – startled him out of his thoughts. He’d never in all his days heard thanks from Angel.

The sound of his own voice surprised Angel. Spike may have earned it, but gratitude still came hard. History…it was funny that it always bled into the present. For vampires, the past was never the past; it just turned into baggage you carried right along with you – baggage that had a nasty habit of opening like some jack-in-the-box without any warning, not even a tune to say ‘pop goes the weasel’.

That reminded him – he was never buying one of those for Connor.

Spike stared for a minute before he shrugged – not like he was going to take this ‘thank you’ bilge seriously. Angel was just deranged from new fatherhood and the recent demon attack. The new attitude wouldn’t last. “More exciting than anything back in Sunnydale. Besides, now that Red’s turned in that pathetic rental car, kinda stuck here.”

“She turned it in? When?”

“Just before that nonsense all happened. Cost her money, and with it sitting here idle…us being all occupied with trying to stop the invading hordes…not much point in her running up that bill, now was there?”

Angel just nodded and left the room – pretty much what Spike had expected really. So why did he feel a twinge of…something? That bloody chip was making him soft, electrical impulses turning his brain into mush; that had to be it. Still, he found himself wondering why Angel hadn’t asked about getting that car back so his one-time ‘boy’ could head for Sunnydale.

Out in the hall, Angel stopped for a moment to collect himself. He had a son to see to – there wasn’t time for…this: the sense of skewed nostalgia he felt with Spike and Willow around. There wasn’t time for the guilt, either. He felt it anyway, though.

Willow had risked everything by using magic to protect his son and to send Holtz…wherever she’d sent him. One minute the man had been there and the next…gone. The look of shock and pain on his face as he faded away told Angel that Holtz wasn’t vanishing on his own power even before he’d turned and almost seen the crackle of magic around Willow. She’d saved his son, she’d saved him, she’d saved them all. Not just for now, but… A part of him almost died as he realized it had never occurred to him to ask Buffy for help – and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know why.

What he did know was that not one word of what had happened would get back to Sunnydale.

She was sitting on her bed, wondering if she shouldn’t pack her things, when she heard the knock, but Willow didn’t even have a chance to say, “Come in” before Spike opened the door and strode inside. “Hey.” He was starting to act like…like the friends she used to have back in Sunnydale. The friends she’d never have again if they knew what had happened here, what she’d done, how she’d sent a man to another dimension…without even knowing if he’d survive the trip.

“What’s wrong?” Spike asked. He could smell the tears, see the sticky traces on her cheeks.

“Nothing.” That irritated him, but for some reason, he didn’t snap at her. Maybe it was that softening of the brain he’d posited earlier. Or maybe it was just that he was damn grateful for the floating thing she’d done that had lifted him clear out of the path of a flaming arrow in the nick of time. Yeah, guess he owed her for that one.

“Now we both know that’s a lie, so why don’t we just sit down and you can tell me what’s botherin’ you.” He sat down on the bed and patted the space next to him. This wouldn’t be the first time they’d sat together on a bed, now would it? Funny that it would be the first time he consoled her, though.

His voice – it sounded almost like he cared. Willow fought the urge to believe him, but somehow she still found herself sitting next to him. “I’m a junkie…and I’m…I don’t know,” she said softly, wondering if the reason the words came so readily was because she knew it was the fastest road to the inevitable – reminding him of how worthless she was and how much she didn’t deserve his concern, if he even felt any. “I’m a magic junkie and I hurt people and there’s no hope.” Seconds passed, stretching impossibly, but Spike didn’t move.

Tears and helplessness – Spike supposed they’d always drawn him in, as both man and demon, though in vastly different ways. Now, sitting here, watching Red tear herself into pieces despite having saved the baby and…well…all of them, really, he figured those tears were washing the last of his resentment away. By rights, he shouldn’t have held on to any at all by now. Sure, when Holtz and the rest of the cast of characters whose names Spike wasn’t going to bother keeping track of had attacked, everyone else had run about with weapons, but really, the witch probably could have fought the whole battle by herself and won. It was so hard to believe that this shaking slip of a girl had been the magical powerhouse who saved the day, but maybe part of what made it so hard was the fact that she didn’t believe it either.

Willow kept waiting, but Spike didn’t go anywhere. Maybe he wanted to gloat, or read her the riot act, or blackmail her with threats to tell Buffy and Xander and…Tara just how horrible she was. Such a worthless junkie that she hadn’t even lasted a week without falling – no jumping – off the wagon.

Why had she given in so easily? Spike and Angel were there; everyone had weapons; they were all experienced at fighting demons; they would have done just fine without her. But no – big bad Willow just had to show off her mojo, had to put on a performance and pretend that she was special and better than she really was. She was a pathetic attention whore, that’s what she was, and she was weak – weak, weak, weak. Never in a million years was she going to be able to kick the magic. Never in a million years would she be able to go home. Never in a million years could she atone for what she’d done to that man, Holtz. After all, if killing demons with magic was wrong – and it was, she knew it was- then how much worse had it been to harm a human being?

As strange as it was for him, Spike decided to hand out some comfort…honest comfort. The ‘no ulterior motive’ and ‘no shagging’ sort that was so very different from what he had lately offered Buffy. “You’re not, you know. Without hope, I mean. It’s not like we didn’t need ya. One of those bastards would have got the brat for sure if you hadn’t brought out your big bag of tricks. And Holtz? I can’t believe you’re worried about what you did to that bastard. He’d have done worse to you. Hell, he’d have done it and enjoyed it.”

“You’re just saying that.” Now that was gratitude for you. Here he goes and makes nice and she throws it back in his teeth.

“No, I’m not.” He did his best not to sound angry with her, though he was and he wasn’t quite sure why. “I know we’ve had our differences in the past.” Well that was a polite way to put it. “But I was right glad you were there, you know. And in case you’ve forgotten, that Holtz you’re so worried about nearly ended Angel’s unlife. Without you and that magic you seem to think you need to kick…”

“Think? I almost killed Dawn!” She didn’t want to talk about Holtz. It was too terrifying…the way he’d looked right at her as he’d been swallowed by some other world.

“But you didn’t, and you’re sorry.”

Willow nodded vigorously before her shoulders slumped again and her face fell. “Tara left me. She thinks I’m dangerous and evil and…and she’s right.”

And now the root cause was unearthed. “You think Glinda knows anything about danger or evil? That dim chit thought she was a demon. If she honestly thought she was evil, then she doesn’t know evil from the hole in her arse. Which means her opinion is worth exactly nothing.”

“I love her, Spike. She’s my girl.” The weight of the world was in those words and it broke her. Even though Spike had just insulted the dearest, most perfect girl in the whole world, Willow found herself leaning against him as she began to sob.

Awkwardly and without intent, Spike put his arm around Willow. Hell, he knew what it was like to love someone who had the wrong ideas about everything and looked down their nose at you, didn’t he? The torch he was carrying for the Slayer damn near scorched his hand most days, but he never even thought to lay it down.

The door opened without warning and they both started. “Willow, I needed to ask you about that decryption program and…” Fred’s eyes shot wide as she noticed Willow wasn’t alone. “Oh gosh. I’m sorry. I’ll just…we can talk about this later.” And with that, she darted out of the room.

“What was that about?” Willow asked, unsure of exactly what had just gone on or why Fred had run off like that.

Spike, on the other hand, knew enough to know exactly what was up with Fred. She was all about the numbers and the science that one. Oh yeah. Her logical brain had seen two reasonably attractive (bloody gorgeous in his case) people on a bed together with their arms around each other and she seemed to have come to a very sensible conclusion - a conclusion that might just bear some thinking about. Because mistakes could always be turned to your advantage if you knew just how to use them.

Angel almost knocked Fred down as she ran into him rushing down the stairs. “What’s wrong?” What could have happened? Everyone had been fine just a few minutes ago. Had it been only a few minutes? He already noticed that he lost track of time when he was with his son. But still, wouldn’t someone have found him if…

“No, nothin’s wrong. I just… I guess I was trying to give them some privacy and I just kept on hurrying, that’s all.”

Fred’s face was flushed and her expression sheepish, but Angel was focused instead on her words. “Give who some privacy?”

“Willow and….Spike. They were…talking. I mean, yeah, they were talkin’ and I interrupted and I wanted to let them keep talking so I gave them some privacy.” She caught her breath and then said, “I just wanna go put together all the stuff I need Willow to check on later.” Before Angel could even comment, she was gone.

Fred was fast, he’d give her that.

For a moment, though, he was bothered by what she said. Perhaps not so much what she said as how she said it. Her flustered demeanour added subtext to her explanation. Had she walked in on…?

No, of course she hadn’t. That was silly, because Willow was…well…gay (though Angel had to admit that was an odd thing to learn after seeing her so seemingly happy with Oz) and Spike, well…Spike favoured a more vivid kind of beauty. Not that Willow wasn’t attractive. Frankly, when he’d seen her shining with power he’d thought she was stunning. But still – no, she wasn’t Spike’s type.

Fred was odd. She was always a bit odd. After all those isolated years in Pylea, who could fault her? But the fact remained that she was odd and that was all the explanation needed for her manner. He decided to belatedly follow Fred down to the office. Just because Holtz was gone, that didn’t mean there wasn’t work to do.

“Spike, that’s…” Willow sat and stared, dumbfounded. First, at the idea that Fred might have drawn the wrong conclusion, but second and most importantly at Spike’s suggestion that she somehow use that misperception to make Tara jealous and…

The horrible thing was that she was very nearly tempted. Spike’s arm around her tonight had only underscored how much she missed the soft, warm arms of the woman she loved. Waking up next to Tara; the feel of her hair and the smell of her shampoo; the cute noises she made when… She missed it all – the sex stuff and the not-sex stuff and the everything, because that’s what Tara was – Tara was her everything.

Only one thing stopped her from saying yes, and that something was her tempter. Spike wasn’t known for altruism, and really, despite the events of the past few days and the bond forged by battle, they weren’t exactly best friends. So why was he suddenly so eager to play Cupid?

“What do you get out of this?”

The question stopped him short. Despite her emotional state, Red was sharp, much sharper than he’d expected. He wondered why he hadn’t expected it, however. It seemed he made a habit of underestimating the girl; even after last night, when she’d incinerated demons and sent Holtz hell knew where without so much as touching him, his mind persisted in seeing her as someone gullible and barely above pathetic. Maybe he needed to stop looking into her eyes – because that hapless geek was the girl she saw in the mirror and the reflection was caught like a photograph in each eyeball.

“I’ve got my reasons.” She said nothing, just stared with those eyes that begged him to paint over what was there. So he decided to give her a gift; he’d never know why and never wanted to know, but he gave it all the same. “Buffy.”

One word, all Spike offered as his explanation was that one word, but it might as well have been an encyclopedia. More than anyone, at least as far as she knew, she’d seen that Spike’s feelings for Buffy were something more than a crush, but she was stunned by the sudden awareness of just how deep and profound those feelings ran. This was every bit as true a passion as what Spike had once felt for Drusilla – why else would he lower himself to consider such a desperate and hopeless stratagem?

Her heart, so painfully cracked and fragile, came closer than ever to breaking completely as she realized she wasn’t the only one aching with love and loneliness and despair. “Okay,” she said softly, even as she knew this would never work and would only serve to intensify their agony at some future date when it all came to nothing. “What exactly do we do?”

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6900

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Thu Oct 15, 2009 4:33 pm
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) FRAO/NC-17 Prologue/?

flamingointh...

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Title: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Prologue)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Spike/Angel (mentions of Spike/Buffy, Willow/Tara)

Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (eventually, but not for awhile yet)

Summary: *Set during Season Six of BTVS and Season Three of A:tS* When Willow's addiction to magic destroys her relationship with Tara and results in grave injury to Dawn, Buffy decides that Willow's recovery will go better away from the Hellmouth.

Word Count: 2412

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the outrageously awesome Purplefeen.

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is a very radical re-imagining of a long ago trilogy of mine which began with a story called Tangled Web. This story will differ in innumerable ways from that series.

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Prologue)

This isn’t about punishment, Will.” Buffy’s arms are around her, but Willow can’t feel them. All she can feel is emptiness – the absence of magic, but worse still, the absence of love.

‘Come to me.’ She can see Rack beckoning, offering bliss and freedom, and all he wants is…

Everything.

Buffy is talking again. “A little time away will be good for you, you’ll see. And once you get a handle on this thing, you’ll be back and everything will be just the way it was.”

Xander is nodding. Is that strange tilt of his mouth somehow supposed to be a smile? Anya is just standing there. Willow has no idea what the two of them are thinking. Maybe they’re glad to see her go. And Willow? Willow is trying to remember a time when she was foolish enough to believe that there was pie in the sky.

‘Strawberry pie,’ Rack says softly.

Willow stays entangled in Buffy – tears running down her cheeks. It isn’t that she’s crying. No, she’s just drowning from the inside.

Willow leaned her head against the car window – eyes closed. Watching the lights flash by just made her gorge rise and the last thing she wanted to do was anger Spike by making him stop again for her to vomit. Twice had been enough. A third time and…well, he probably couldn’t do anything to her, but she was already so despised that she wasn’t sure that one more atom of rage or even just irritation directed at her wouldn’t make her explode into a thousand painful pieces - the pieces she should have been sliced into by the windshield of a stolen car.

If she lived to be a thousand, she would never forget the look of betrayal and hatred in Dawn’s eyes.

Why had it gone so wrong so fast? Why hadn’t she seen? Why had just being good at helping Buffy not been enough? She wanted so badly to find the day, the hour, the minute when the switch had flipped and the lights had gone off. She’d give anything, anything to go back, to be a good girl, to be Tara’s girl – the little Wicca-wannabe toddling along at Tara’s heels.

But it was all gone now – all of it. No Buffy, no Dawn, no Xander…and no Tara. Willow was nothing now, nobody. No magic, no friends, no lover. She wondered if she’d ever matter, ever be anything ever again.

What would Jesse think if he saw her now?

”Spike, look, I don’t want to talk about…that thing that happened.”

He smirks as the colour rises in her cheeks. She wants him – needs him – she just isn’t ready to admit it yet. That’s okay. Wouldn’t have expected any different from a Slayer, really. They’re always about fighting, even when they’re fucking. He knows that for a fact now. It’s written in the scratches that even now tell their secrets in faint pink lines on his chest – probably on his back and arse as well, though he can’t see those.

“So what is it you’re here for? ‘Cause you seem all wound up to me. A bit…itchy.” His eyes slide smooth and slow down her form, stopping at the place between her thighs – her home. It’s where the last, best part of who she used to be lives; it’s what he’ll use to turn her back into Buffy, the Buffy he fell in love with.

“You’re gross, Spike,” she huffs, acting as if she doesn’t know he can smell the need, wet and musky, already building right where he wants to be. “This is about Willow.”

Willow? What the hell makes the Slayer think he gives a damn about the witch? After that stunt she pulled the other night, Willow’s damn lucky he didn’t rip her head off, chip or no. If his Bit had been killed… “What about her?”

“She…it’s not a good idea for her to stay here. There’s too much temptation. If she’s going to get clean, she has to be away from Amy and Rack and the Hellmouth.”

“And?” He’s not getting what any of this has to do with him yet.

“I called…I called Angel and…and they’ve agreed that she can stay there for a little while. But she’s not in any shape to drive herself, what with the withdrawal and all and besides, it’s probably not a good idea for her to take off by herself and…”

No, no, no! “I’m not a bloody chauffeur. Tell the whelp or his demon bride to drive the pathetic chit to rehab.”

Now she turns it on – soft, liquid eyes, quivering mouth. The full ‘Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope’ treatment. He’s a worthless tosser if he falls for this. “They won’t,” she says. He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for further explanation and after a moment, she caves. “They don’t like the idea. They think she can get better here. But she can’t, Spike.” The eyes now glisten, moist and pleading.

Oh bloody, buggering hell. “Alright,” he says. “But don’t expect me to make nice with her.” He doesn’t mention Angel. He won’t mention Angel.

Spike had to give the little witch credit for one thing: she didn’t raise any objections to the music he listened to. He was blaring the Sex Pistols at top volume and she didn’t even grimace. Of course, the sudden sick breaks were a pain in the arse, but… His eyes wandered over to where she sat, leaning against the car window, bleeding pain from every pore but keeping it all to herself. Damn! As much as he hated her for messing with his head (again) and for risking Dawn’s life, he was starting to pity her. There was a something he’d seen in her eyes – or really a something that he hadn’t – that reminded him of a poet at a party long ago.

Thank fuck she had her eyes closed now. He was free to focus on the road, and on the prize waiting for him back in Sunnydale.

Buffy – definitely a notch on any vampire’s belt. But he loved her, too – that was true and pure and undeniable. It burned hotter than even the blazing inferno that was his passion for Drusilla. And now that he’d finally tasted the heaven between her thighs? He was as hooked on her as ever Willow was on magic.

The difference was that this addiction would do some good. He’d fix Buffy; make her well; bring her back to life in a way that Willow had never, could never manage. She’d be his and she’d love him back – see him for what he was – the man who could be, no was, her everything.

He stared into the darkness ahead as Willow fell into fitful slumber in the passenger seat and he stepped on the gas. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice whispered: ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’

”All I’m saying is that I think Willow needs her friends right now. I don’t see what a bunch of people who barely know her and don’t care about her can do that we can’t.”

“They’re her friends, too, Xander. And more importantly, they’re away from the Hellmouth and magic and everything that will tempt Willow. They can watch out for her.”

“And we can’t?” Xander’s furious; he truly is. It wasn’t a week ago that Buffy was pooh-poohing his warnings that Willow was headed for a meltdown and now that it’s happened, she’s acting like she knows everything.

So why is he letting her?

“I think what Xander is saying is that you’re really not the best judge of what to do for Willow. Seeing as how you thought she was just fine a couple of days ago.” There are times when Anya’s lack of tact is embarrassing and painful. And then there are times when it’s what he loves best about her.

He gives her a soft look…but he doesn’t back her up. Instead, he lets Buffy have the floor. “I get that I underestimated the extent of her problem, but I think that as her best friend, I still know her better than you do. And what I know,” she’s addressing them both now, “is that Willow needs someplace safe. Someplace where she won’t be reminded of doing spells. Someplace where she can get back to being our Willow again.”

Xander caves in. All these years and he realizes that he’ll always defer to Buffy. No matter who he loves, no matter what he knows, he’ll always doubt that she can be wrong. “Okay,” he says as Anya stares cold fury at him. “But I’m not happy about it.” That’s as close to defying Buffy as he’s come since the day he threatened to kill her if Willow died.

“And we’re not taking her to L.A.,” Anya adds.

Of course, Buffy hadn’t expected that. “But…”

“No.” Anya is emphatic enough to hold Xander at bay. “If you think it’s such a great idea to pack Willow off to stay with your ex-boyfriend who barely knows her and a girl who probably still hates her for stealing Xander, then you can drive her there yourself. Xander and I have wedding plans to make and they need to be made here.” Anya decides she needs to clarify that. “In Sunnydale, not in the Magic Box.”

That’s that, and while a part of Xander finds something disturbingly positive in his willingness to let Anya order him around instead of Buffy, lost in all of this is his connection to Willow. He misses it, all the more so because he can’t remember when he lost it and he’s terrified that if she leaves, she’ll never come back and they’ll never find each other again.

But he says nothing.

“She’s gone.” Xander had probably said those same words before – several times – but that didn’t stop him from saying them again.

Amazingly, Anya didn’t chide him. Instead she stayed nestled in the crook of his arm. “I know.” Her voice was soft and gentle in a way it only was when they were alone together, when she was willing to let go and be human – completely and utterly human. Looking back, he knew it was during the very first moment like this that he fell in love with her…and that she had loved him before that.

“Did I…was it okay to let her go like this? To just send her off with Spike in some rental car?”

“That Willow had to pay for. I can’t believe they made Willow pay for the car. It’s bad enough that she’s being packed off to a bunch of people who don’t even like her, but…” This time, Anya stopped herself. “I’m sorry. I just… No, I don’t think it was the right thing. But it’s not as if Buffy was interested in my opinion.” She looked up into his eyes. “Or yours. I know what you’re thinking, but when Buffy has an idea… I mean it’s not like she respects… You know what I mean, right?” She tried to dull the blow at the end, but Xander knew exactly what she meant, and he knew she was right.

That was the hard part.

Buffy sets the phone back in the cradle. It’s just as well, she supposes, that it was Wesley she spoke to and not Angel. How could she talk to Angel after that…thing she’d just done with Spike? And anyway, it’s harder to talk to Angel every time they do end up in contact. They have less and less to say to each other and it’s harder to remember that he’s the same Angel that…

No, what they have is forever and true even if they can’t actually have it anymore and she’s just confused right now, that’s all. And anyway, he isn’t what she should be thinking about. She needs to focus on Willow. Because Willow is in trouble; Willow is in pain…

Willow ripped her out of Heaven.

That has nothing to do with this and what Buffy's setting in motion isn't some sort of punishment for what happened to Dawn either. Because Willow’s sorry, and she means it, and she’s trying so hard to do without the one thing that…

Buffy loves Willow. And that’s what this is about – loving Willow enough to do whatever it takes to get her better; even if it means putting up with Wesley’s disdainful attitude; even if it means admitting defeat; even if it means doing without Willow.

She loves Willow and this is what is best for her. It is.

“I don’t see why Willow’s going to Los Angeles.” Dawn was petulant; Buffy wasn’t quite sure why.

“I thought you were still mad at her.”

“I am, but…”

“So this is about you wanting to make her do your homework for you or something to pay you back?” The look on Dawn’s face told Buffy she’d hit the bullseye. “Look,” she said, sitting down and pulling Dawn down on the couch beside her. “I know you’re mad at her, and…and, you have a right to be.”

“I’m gonna be stuck with this stupid sling thing forever,” Dawn interrupted.

“Like I said, you have a right to be angry. But, Dawn, she’s sick, okay? It’s not like she meant to hurt you. The magic was just too strong for her and she forgot who she is, she forgot the people she loves, she forgot…”

“Tara. She forgot Tara.”

“No…and I think maybe forgot was the wrong word. She lost sight of things, that’s all. And that’s why she’s going away. So she can get better and she can see again.”

“Because it’s so much easier to see when you’re surrounded by smog?”

“No. Because it’s so much easier to learn how to resist temptation when it’s not all around you every day.” Truer words, she was sure, had never been spoken. Her own itch throbbed painfully, knowing that the way to relieve it would be back soon…so soon.

Dawn grumbled wordlessly and Buffy stroked the head that now lay against her shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, you’ll see,” she said, wondering if she was talking to Dawn or to herself. “It’s gonna be okay.”

The Toyota Rent-a-Wreck pulled to a stop in front of the Hyperion Hotel. It was almost two o’clock in the morning. “We’re here, Red,” Spike said, reaching out and shaking Willow gently to wake her up. “Time to check into rehab.”

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6899

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Mon Oct 12, 2009 3:45 pm
Subject: Fic: The Adventures Of...(Willow/Angel) 22/22 FRT-13/PG-13

flamingointh...

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Title: The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Twenty-Two)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Angel

Rating: FRT-13/PG-13

Summary: *Set during the summer between Seasons One and Two of BTVS* While Buffy's in Los Angeles, summer in Sunnydale looks to be nothing but boring for Willow and Angel. But on the Hellmouth, you can never take anything for granted.

Warning: NONE

Word Count: 2524

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the super awesome Purplefeen. Thanks for helping me get fluffy. And extra special thanks to the incredible Kitty Poker who shepherded me through the beginnings of this last year. Words cannot express...

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is the very last chapter. I hope you all like where the journey has ended.

The Adventures of Willow ‘Danger’ Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Twenty-Two)

“Buffy. Gosh! It’s great to see you!”

Did that sound sincere? Willow sure hoped it did. She let go of Angel’s hand - hoping Buffy hadn't noticed she was holding it in the first place - and hurried to offer a hug to her friend.

“What brings you back so soon?” Xander asked. “And can I thank it?” Willow would have giggled at Xander’s eagerness – and how new was that? – but she was feeling too guilty. She’d been wrong; her middle name wasn’t Danielle or even Danger…it was Brutus. She should have checked her hands for knives before she hugged Buffy.

“I heard there was some new Big Bad in town and I figured you guys might need my help. Judging by the fact that all of you are here, I’m guessing you’re already on the case.” Her brow was furrowed with concern.

This was so like Buffy – putting her own life on hold to do her sacred duty. If she knew just what was waiting for her… Just a minute. There was another Big Bad? Oh no!

Before Willow, or anyone else, could ask her about it, Buffy helpfully continued. “So do we know anything about Porthus other than that he’s evil and apparently a one-of-a-kind collectible?”

Oops. Guess news didn’t actually travel all that fast after all. Who knew? Of course, no one could have been happier about that than Xander, whose face bore an expression of such joy that Willow came perilously close to those giggles that hadn’t happened earlier. He was so excited at the chance to tell Buffy of his own heroism.

He took a breath, drew himself up, and said, “You know, funny thing you should mention Porthus…”

“Xander accidentally killed him with a chocolate bar while he was trying to turn Willow into his mate.” Yes! Payback time! Angel fought the urge to rub his hands together in glee. This would teach Xander to call him ‘Deadboy’. After all, even if they were supposedly only playing at mutual antagonism, demeaning nicknames took it way too far.

Uh-oh. The expression on the boy’s face told him that they wouldn’t be calling things even anytime soon.

“A chocolate bar? He was supposed to be the biggest Big Bad ever and you killed him with a chocolate bar?” Buffy seemed dumbfounded, as well she might. Even Angel found it stupefying and he’d had weeks to process the event.

“It was actually a lot more dashing and heroic than it sounds,” Xander offered, looking rather more crestfallen than Angel had wanted. Oh well. What was done was done and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory of the look on Xander’s face when he'd realized he was facing a demon armed with nothing more than a half-eaten candy bar.

Laughter had not been the right choice at the moment.

“See if I offer to help when you need to buy a birthday present for Willow. Without me, you’ll wind up in the doghouse, Deadboy.”

Thanks, Harris.

Angel was reasonably sure he had not been able to rid his face of the ‘deer caught in the headlights look’ nearly fast enough and even if he had, Xander’s face still wore that stricken look so the damage was done. He was going to throttle that boy just as soon as his soul – and Willow – permitted. (And no, none of this was his fault for being so juvenile as to bait and mock the boy in the first place) Please let Buffy not be quick on the uptake tonight.

“Why would Angel buy Willow a birthday present?”

Oh no. Now Willow looked as guilty as Xander did. This was really not going well at all. Why, oh why had Angel not invested in a stake-proof vest?

Oh gosh. Buffy was looking at her all curiously and stuff and Willow…well…she sucked at lying, even in a situation like this where it should be super easy because Buffy would never believe the truth and…

“Xander was just joking around. You know what a kidder he is. Angel? Buy me a present? Gosh no. He’d never do anything like that. We barely ever even talk – well we talk about demon-y stuff, but that’s it. Absolutely it.” She punctuated her words with a ‘gee whiz’ gesture even as she fought not to wince at the phoniness of her voice. And could she have over-emphasized much more?

Buffy just stared, first at her, then at Angel. Oh no – this was so not looking good.

“Oh my God,” Buffy breathed. “You and Angel?”

The game was up. Please let death be swift and painless. “Uh huh,” Willow squeaked as she closed her eyes and waited for whatever horrible fate was in store. She just hoped Angel would survive.

To her shock, she was immediately enveloped in a Slayer-strength hug. “Willow! You have no idea how happy this makes me!”

Huh?

Okay…what? Just as Angel was cursing himself for not getting between his former and current girlfriends in time, it all went strangely sideways. Buffy was happy that he was with Willow?

“I was so worried. I mean, I was going to tell you this on the phone but then I couldn’t and…”

Buffy was interrupted by a scruffy stranger who seemed to have just appeared in the doorway. “Hey, Buffy. You gonna be done here anytime soon? Cuz I’m kinda gettin’ lonely out in the car.”

Who the hell was this guy and what made him think he could just barge into Giles’s apartment?

“Excuse me. I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced. May I ask what you think you’re doing walking into my flat?” Giles got a word in edgewise for the first time.

“I’m with the G-man on this one. Just who the heck do you think you are?” Xander seemed more than a little miffed, which probably had something to do with the fact that the man was under 80 and clearly knew Buffy.

“Oh!” Buffy cried, letting go of Willow and hurrying to the man at the door. “Guys? I want you to meet Pike.”

Pike? What kind of name was Pike?

Pike? Willow’s brain clicked back on after shutting down in shock at Buffy’s reaction to her perfidy and, after shuffling through a few hundred girl-talk memories, it provided her with background to go with the name – and the man who bore it.

It was Buffy’s ex-boyfriend. The one she’d broken up with rather fuzzily right before she and her mom moved to Sunnydale. The one who did the thing with his tongue that… Wow. So this was Pike.

And suddenly there was an explanation for the fractured and incomplete conversation they’d had about two weeks ago. Buffy hadn’t been referring to sex with Angel when she’d talked about big things that impact relationships, she’d been talking about…getting back together with Pike.

“Ummm…nice to meet you, Pike. Buffy’s told me a lot about you.” Yes, and most of it could never be shared with anyone else in the room. Willow gave him the most surreptitious once-over possible. Boy he sure didn’t seem like…down, Willow. You have your own man. And hey, he bathed, which was a really big plus. Pike was just a bit too disheveled for her taste. Cute, though, and maybe Buffy could threaten to stake him if he didn’t get a haircut and shave.

“Which puts you way ahead of the rest of us.” Xander was glaring at Pike. Oh no. Poor Xander. Now that she had Angel, Willow had really hoped that Xander would actually have a chance with Buffy. Looked like that wouldn’t be happening. Her best friend was all alone. Memories of her dream about Cordelia surfaced and she shuddered – there were worse fates for Xander than dateless weekends, she decided.

“You didn’t tell them about me?”

“No, she didn’t.” Angel’s tone was a bit hard and he regretted it the moment he looked at Willow’s face. He smiled at her to let her know his reaction didn’t mean what she thought it did. Willow was the one for him, of that there was no doubt. But give a vampire a break – it sure looked like Buffy had gone way down market when shopping for a new boyfriend. Wouldn’t any guy be slightly offended at being replaced by a scruffy ne’er-do-well type named after a fish? Porthus was actually higher up the ladder than this fellow. Hell, Harris was higher up the ladder.

“He’s Buffy’s ex-boyfriend,” Willow offered helpfully.

Pike chuckled. “Not so much with the ‘ex’ , but you got the last part right.” He walked right up to Angel and shook his hand then stared at him quizzically. “You’re a vampire,” he said, backing away and pulling a stake out of his back pocket.

Looked like Buffy wasn’t big on keeping anyone completely in the loop. Angel assumed battle stance and waited to see what would happen.

“He knows about…vampires?” Giles asked with great annoyance – and not a little remaining inebriation. “Buffy, I thought we discussed the imprudence of your sharing these…details…with civilians.” Way to keep your eye on the salient point there, Watcher. Oh, and next time, watch your diction, or were you under the impression the word was pronounced ‘discushed’?

Willow raced towards him, actually willing to put herself between him and a stake. If he’d had any doubts before, he didn’t now – Angel loved Willow.

“Pike, no!” Buffy yelled as she grabbed the arm holding the stake.

“He’s a vampire.”

“Yes, but he’s not one of the bad guys. He has a soul, okay? I know him.”

“Would have been nice if you’d mentioned that before I almost staked him. Are you sure?”

“She’s sure,” Willow said, her Resolve Face at the fore. Oh how she hoped it worked on strangers. “Angel’s one of us. He even helped kill Porthus.” She beamed up at her boyfriend, who was gazing at her in a way that made her forget that she’d ever doubted his affections a few moments ago. She guessed anybody would be a bit nonplussed at their ex showing up with a random guy out of the blue and all.

“Hey, let’s not forget who actually dealt the death blow, okay?” Oops, she probably should have thought more about the last vestiges of Xander’s pride before speaking.

“Death by chocolate,” Buffy grinned as she spoke.”Way to go, Xander.” Her tone couldn’t have been more filial and Willow’s heart ached for her friend.

“He’s dead?” Pike sounded disappointed. “Well that sucks. Here I was all ready to do battle beside the Slayer and…wham! The Big Bad is dead.”

“It’s okay, honey. You’ll get plenty more chances. We’re on the Hellmouth now, remember? Evil shows up every day.” Buffy put her arms around Pike and Willow could almost see Xander’s heart breaking. At this moment, she was officially willing to let him date Cordelia Chase if it would make him feel better – not that there was any actual chance of that, but still…

“So, Buffy, I take it your friend knows all about your ‘secret’ identity.” Gosh, Jenny needed to lighten up. Even Giles was coming around about Angel and hey, Pike had known Buffy before Giles even did.

“I saved him from a vampire the night I found out I was the Slayer. Kinda hard to keep it a secret after that.”

“I didn’t actually need saving, you know.”

“Of course you didn’t. But I saved you anyway” Buffy kissed him and that seemed to settle things.

You know, they were pretty cute together, even if Pike did need a shower and some clean clothes.

Willow wrapped her arms around Angel and followed Buffy’s example by giving her own guy a kiss.

Things were going to be okay.

In fact, they were going to be great.

“So you know all about…” Giles was still trying to catch up.

“Vampires, demons, the Slayer. Yeah, I know all about it. Buffy and Merrick filled me in awhile back.”

Buffy’s face fell at the mention of that last name and Angel was glad she’d shared something with him in the past so he could follow the conversation. What had happened to her first Watcher naturally still hurt her. Angel understood that. There were times when he almost regretted dusting Darla.

“You knew Merrick?” Giles asked.

“Yeah. He was a good guy.”

“Giles is awesome,” Buffy interposed. “Really, you guys are gonna get along so well.”

“Quite,” Giles responded. Guess he wasn’t too enamoured of Buffy’s new swain’s idea of hygiene. Join the club; Angel was still a bit insulted. Thankfully, the knowledge that this guy had been her boyfriend before - and the fact that Angel was head over heels for Willow - made it palatable.

“So this obviously means you’re okay with the whole ‘Angel and Willow’ thing.” Xander sounded peevish. No surprise. Angel felt dirty for this, but he was actually sorry that Xander wasn’t going to have a chance with Buffy.

“Yeah. It’s great.” Buffy’s smile was absolutely genuine and, while Angel was mostly very pleased that he and Willow had nothing to fear from her, was it too much to ask that she be just a tiny bit disturbed? The most infinitesimal amount of jealousy would be enough to suit his ego.

He wasn’t going to get it though and he fought the annoying urge to sigh. Luckily, looking into Willow's eyes took care of the problem completely. Love was like that.

The one person who had something negative to say was, oddly, Pike. “Isn’t Willow your best friend? How can you be okay with her dating a vampire? I mean – hello! He’s dead, well, undead, but still – not exactly a great idea, wouldn’t you say? Especially for a normal human girl.”

“Willow’s not quite a normal human girl.” Was that Giles? Okay – Giles was defending Angel’s relationship with Willow. It would seem the man was a whole lot more intoxicated than Angel had thought.

“What do you mean?” Buffy seemed concerned.

“It seems the reason Porthus was so determined to make Willow his was because she has innate magical power,” Jenny offered.

“Yeah. Giles has been training her for about two weeks and she can already do stuff. She floated a pencil right before you got here. It was pretty amazing.” Thank you, Xander.

Willow was now blushing adorably, unable to say a word. Angel held her close and kissed the top of her head.

Jaw slack and eyes wide, Buffy stared for a moment. “Wow. Will. So you’re…magic girl, huh?”

And there it was, just for a split second. Of course, immediately afterward, Buffy beamed and a general round of discussion of Willow’s prowess ensued, but Angel experienced shame, nonetheless. He felt badly that he’d ever wanted Buffy to feel envy. He was too old to be that immature. He’d leave that to Xander, thank you very much.

“I’m not ready to take over the slay-age. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re always gonna be the top dog around here, Buffy.” Had Willow noticed, too? Angel didn’t think it was possible, but he might just love her more.

The talk moved to ‘How I Spent My Summer Vacation’ and Angel stayed quiet, his arm around Willow, taking in the way the group somehow didn’t change – even when it did.

He kissed Willow again.

Things were going to be okay.

In fact, they were going to be great.

The End

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6898

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Thu Oct 8, 2009 5:31 pm
Subject: Fic: The Adventures Of...(Willow/Angel) 21/22 FRT-13/PG-13

flamingointh...

Offline

Title: The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Twenty-One)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Angel

Rating: FRT-13/PG-13

Summary: *Set during the summer between Seasons One and Two of BTVS* While Buffy's in Los Angeles, summer in Sunnydale looks to be nothing but boring for Willow and Angel. But on the Hellmouth, you can never take anything for granted.

Warning: NONE

Word Count: 2100

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the super awesome Purplefeen. Thanks for helping me get fluffy. And extra special thanks to the incredible Kitty Poker who shepherded me through the beginnings of this last year. Words cannot express...

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is my first non-angst fic in quite awhile. I hope no one minds this departure from my norm.

The Adventures of Willow ‘Danger’ Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Twenty-One)

“Hey, Giles,” Willow caroled happily as she and Angel walked into her mentor’s flat.

Giles had been training her in magic for two weeks now and this morning she’d floated a pencil. She was still on cloud nine and was quite eager to do it again – this time with Angel as a witness, hence the dragging her boyfriend - oh the elegant beauty of the word ‘boyfriend’ and her right to signify it with a first person possessive pronoun - back here just as soon as the sun had set. Giles had forbidden her from doing magic alone for the time being and she’d promised to follow the rules. As much as it irritated her, she was a girl who kept promises – and besides, Angel agreed with Giles and he was always around, so… Yeah, she was the ‘don’t try this at home’ girl (at least for now).

“Not quite, although if I drink any more tea, I might sprout tweed.” Oh. Xander was here. Where was Giles? Angel stiffened at her side. Wouldn’t he and Xander ever get along? “Hey there, Deadboy.” Willow squeezed Angel’s hand to keep him from rising to the bait while she glared at Xander. He’d seemed to be coming around, but it looked like one step forward, two steps back.

“Where is Giles?” Willow decided to actually ask.

“Don’t know. He got a phone call, but he spoke way too low for me to eavesdrop. Then he just said he’d be out for awhile and for me to lock up when I leave. How am I supposed to lock up without a key?”

“When did he leave?” Willow was almost angry. He had some nerve being gone when she wanted to show Angel the cool magic-y thing she could do but wasn’t allowed to do outside of Giles’s presence.

“He’s been gone for about two hours, which I only know because of the clock. Do you have any idea how bored I am right now? Giles has no cable and all his books are the ones I go out of my way not to have to read during research sessions. What kind of grown man doesn’t even have a copy of Playboy lying around?”

Angel had to admit that Xander had a point. There was more to life than dry academics. But that did not mean for a moment that he had to concede the point openly. Besides, he and Xander were still going through the motions of being mutually antagonistic – the boy had assured him it was necessary. It also wasn’t exactly a hardship; the resentment over being upstaged in the battle against Porthus had yet to go the way of the demon himself.

“So why didn’t you leave?”

“Because I don’t have a key and I’m guessing that if I just left and the place was all open and some vampire wandered in and messed with Giles’s precious books, I’d be in pretty big trouble.” Angel couldn’t help but laugh at that and Xander immediately rounded on him. “What’s so funny?” How could the boy not know how ridiculous he’d just sounded?

“Vampires aren’t going to break in. Not even if you leave the door wide open.” Angel couldn’t keep himself from sounding smug and condescending.

“They can’t come in unless you invite them in,” Willow interposed softly and far too kindly. Angel got a pathetically juvenile and ridiculously enormous amount of pleasure from the embarrassment that flashed briefly across Xander’s face.

“I knew that,” he said.”But they could have help – you know, other demons, humans – that’s what I meant.” Sure you did, Xander. That’s why you’re stuttering and looking at the ceiling and the floor and the staircase.

Sadly, a noise at the door distracted them all and precluded Angel from augmenting Xander’s humiliation. “I thought I told that boy to lock this when he left.” Ah. Giles was home.

Oh goody! Giles was back. That meant that Willow would finally be able to show Angel the neat way she could float a pencil.

When the door opened, however, she could see Giles wasn’t really in the mood for magic…at least not her kind. Jenny was standing right behind him – and hey, was that lipstick on his mouth? Oh gosh!

“What…?” he offered, his speech mildly slurred. Even Willow could tell that, yes, alcohol had been recently consumed. She had a horrible feeling that the three of them being in the apartment threatened to ruin Giles’s night. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a bit self-satisfied. She’d obviously been right when she told Jenny that Giles would forgive her – all it had taken was a little time (and apparently some wine).

“Xander didn’t want to leave your house all unlocked and stuff,” Willow explained, almost giggling at Xander’s open-mouthed stare. Come to think of it, Giles did look kind of rumpled. Guess the party had already started. Oops! Well, there was nothing they could do about that now. Besides, she wanted to show Angel her mojo, so Giles was just going to have to wait to show Jenny his.

“Yeah. Seeing as how I don’t have a key or anything,” Xander added.

“Oh…right. Well, of course…” Giles was stammering and it was kind of cute. Was Jenny blushing? She was!

Giles, you old dog! Didn’t know you had it in you. And no, Angel wasn’t delighting in Jenny’s embarrassment. Well…not much.

“Willow wanted me to see what she learned today and since she’s not supposed to use magic unsupervised, here we are.” Angel figured an explanation of the extra two people in the apartment might come in handy since his senses detected a strong odor of spirits on the Watcher. In point of fact, the man was inebriated and there was no chance of him figuring out the answer to anything more challenging than ‘what is the sum of 2 + 2?’ on his own.

No, they weren’t leaving, either. Because frankly, Angel really did want to see Willow float a pencil. He was as proud as could be of the progress she was making and the power she was discovering within herself. The way her eyes had sparkled so prettily and the colour rose becomingly in her cheeks when she’d told him of the feat she’d accomplished today…

Something told him he was falling in love with Willow Rosenberg. Maybe not even falling. It was entirely possible he’d already landed.

“Can I show him now, Giles? Please? It’ll just take a few minutes and then you and Jenny can get back to…whatever it is you were planning on doing. Okay?” The expression on Willow’s face, so winsome and fetching as she pleaded for the chance to show off her skills – it left him free from all doubt. Angel loved Willow.

Apparently, Giles wasn’t so soused that he could resist her plea either, though at least now Angel was pretty sure the man’s interest was nothing but fatherly. “Alright, I suppose. But then I should be very pleased if the three of you would kindly…”

“Leave. We get it, G-man,” Xander interrupted. “And hey, if you’d left a key in the first place… Wait a minute – Will, you can float a pencil?”

Wow. Xander actually seemed impressed. That did Willow’s ego no end of good, though it wasn’t as neat of a feeling as the little jump her heart gave when she saw the look in Angel’s eyes just now. If he kept looking at her like that, she just might…

Oh gosh! She was falling in love with Angel, wasn’t she? Not even falling; she’d already hit the ground with a great big splat. And you know, it was funny, but this didn’t feel a darn thing like when she’d been in love with Xander. Did love always feel different with different people or had she been wrong for all these years and never loved Xander at all? She was now torn between feeling disgusted at all the time she’d spent deluded and feeling grateful that something had distracted her from actually falling for someone else before she got to meet Angel.

She only hoped he would come to feel the same way about her, because it would be even worse than her unrequited not-love for Xander to be in unrequited real-love with Angel.

It was time to stop thinking about this, though, because she needed to clear her mind so she could demonstrate her bad-ass magical powers for Angel. The sooner she floated that pencil, the sooner Giles and Jenny could get back to work on the fence-mending thing that seemed to be going pretty well.

“Giles, is it okay if I move your coffee table so I can do the float-y thing here?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” He sounded irritated, but hey, she and Angel had been waiting here just for this and it was a waste of what could have been smoochie time if they up and left now. Besides, he’d just given them permission a moment ago and anyway, Giles was the one who insisted she not do magic without his supervision, so it served him right to be inconvenienced by his own rules.

“I can’t believe how far you’ve come in such a short time,” Jenny said. “It certainly is a good thing you’ve begun training.”

Willow was only half paying attention. She’d brought her tools with her and she drew a circle before her on her mat, clearing her mind and saying a blessing. Giles had told her that making sure to invoke only the powers of good was an essential beginning to even the smallest ritual or task.

She laid her pencil in the middle of the circle as she sat cross-legged before it. She closed her eyes, focused her energies and…

“Oh my God! Willow! It’s floating!” Thank you, Harris, for stating the obvious. It wasn’t as if the rest of them couldn’t see it for themselves.

Luckily, Xander’s outburst didn’t seem to have any effect on Willow. The pencil stayed motionless, suspended in midair as if it were resting on a pedestal. Angel had to admit that he was in awe. His girl was something else, wasn’t she?

He took his eyes off the pencil and gazed at Willow. Her eyes were open now and her features were so beautifully composed – peaceful and in harmony with something Angel couldn’t see but that he could certainly feel. There was a power around her that was greater than anything Angelus had ever wielded. Thank whatever god watched over Willow that his demon had never gotten a hold of her. Imagine the horrible, dangerous mockery into which his demon could have twisted Willow. Together they would have made the heavens weep and the earth tremble.

And no, this did not give him any fodder for future bedroom role-playing. Okay – maybe – and yes, perhaps there would be leather involved – but that didn’t mean he wasn’t entirely pleased that it had never and would never come to pass in reality

He needed to get his mind out of the gutter before his body reacted in a way that even Giles would notice – not to mention super-spoilsport extraordinaire Janna Kalderash. Luckily, just a glance at that woman’s face did the trick and the naughty thoughts evaporated like Porthus-goo as the pencil floated slowly to the ground.

“So – what did you think?” Willow asked, her face alight as the magic faded away. “Wasn’t it cool?”

“It was incredible,” he replied, taking her hands and pulling her up from the floor. Never had words been so inadequate. Sure, maybe it was only the levitation of a small hunk of wood and lead, but it seemed like a miracle to Angel. And the power that he had felt emanating from her foretold so many greater, more fantastic deeds in the future. No question about it, Angel’s girl was every bit as extraordinary as any Slayer.

Of course, it wasn’t as if Angel was comparing the two of them. Buffy was Buffy and Willow was Willow. And what he felt for Willow? It was entirely different from anything he’d felt for anyone before. In fact…

“Giles? I’m home! And boy do I have stuff to tell you,” came a familiar voice as the front door flew open. “Do you have any idea where Will and Xander are? I was just at their houses and… Angel? W-what are you doing here?”

Willow gripped his hand so tightly that he knew her knuckles were chalk white, the same colour as her face now that the blood had drained from it. Things were about to get very complicated.

Buffy was back.

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6897

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Mon Oct 5, 2009 4:57 pm
Subject: Fic: The Adventures Of...(Willow/Angel) 20/22 FRT-13/PG-13

flamingointh...

Offline

Title: The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Twenty)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Angel

Rating: FRT-13/PG-13

Summary: *Set during the summer between Seasons One and Two of BTVS* While Buffy's in Los Angeles, summer in Sunnydale looks to be nothing but boring for Willow and Angel. But on the Hellmouth, you can never take anything for granted.

Warning: NONE

Word Count: 2120

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the super awesome Purplefeen. Thanks for helping me get fluffy. And extra special thanks to the incredible Kitty Poker who shepherded me through the beginnings of this last year. Words cannot express...

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is my first non-angst fic in quite awhile. I hope no one minds this departure from my norm.

The Adventures of Willow ‘Danger’ Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Twenty)

Angel smoochies…oh…mmm…

Willow’s brain had happily decided to take a much-needed vacation from higher functioning and just allow her to live in the moment. And oh what a moment it was. There were cool, yummy Angel-lips on her lips, an Angel-tongue sliding against her tongue, Angel-hands caressing her back and moving down to…

Eep!

Now her brain decided that enough was enough. Danger, Will Rosenberg! Still, her body took a while to catch up and start pushing him away instead of holding him close. When she did, she felt enormous regret. What was done was done though.

“Angel, we shouldn’t.” All right – that was easily the most clichéd thing she could have said. Couldn’t someone with her English grades have come up with something more eloquent? Between this and her earlier failure to conjure up an effective and discreet answer to the Buffy question, she was now completely disillusioned about the value of education.

“Why not?” That was an excellent question. It really was. But yet again it was one for which Willow did not have an answer and she came very close to bursting into tears. It was official; school did not prepare you for life.

“Because,” she said, hoping that word would lead to more words which would then transform themselves into a perfectly reasonable response to Angel’s query.

It did not, however. It sat alone in majestic pointlessness, the silence expanding around it until it was just a speck in the middle distance, growing ever smaller and sillier.

Soon, however, the silence was broken, and the sound that broke it did not help Willow’s mood. She stepped back even further from Angel and, hands on hips, exclaimed, “What’s so funny?”

Angel couldn’t help himself; Willow was so adorable when she was flustered.

He tried to compose himself and transform his expression to one of more gravity, but it was futile; the smile remained (though at least he did manage to contain his mirth) as his thoughts drifted back to what they’d just shared.

Mmm…kissing Willow…oh yeah…

Angel’s brain reminded him that he needed to do some rational thinking. Resolve Face at three o’clock! Still, the smile refused to go easily and it was only picturing Giles standing in the doorway that finally gave him the ability to compose his features properly at last.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hoping his tone was sufficiently remorseful. Still, he winced as he heard the words. They weren’t exactly original – or eloquent. He’d been talking comely lasses out of their knickers and inveigling hapless citizens into darkened alleys for centuries and he couldn’t think of anything better than ‘I’m sorry’? Where was his demon now that he needed him? Though even if his demon were willing to lend a hand, Angel was starting to wonder if he’d really be of any use. He wasn’t planning on fucking and draining Willow.

“You were laughing at me.” Willow was upset – very upset. Angel hated himself for hurting her. Oh dammit! He had been so sure the brooding was over and done with, but now… It seemed that not even a permanent soul could banish it completely. Think, Angel. How are you going to fix this mess? It was official – being a vampire taught you nothing about women.

“I wasn’t…I mean…I know that’s what it looked like but…”

Willow just stared, arms akimbo, Resolve Face still transforming her sweet features into something imposing.

“You make me happy, that’s all.”

At last! Hallelujah! Angel had said the right thing. Maybe he’d learned a thing or two after all.

She made Angel happy? Willow’s jaw went slightly slack as she stared. That was probably (scratch the ‘probably’ and make it a ‘definitely’) the nicest thing a boy had ever said to her…that anyone had ever said to her. Of course, Angel wasn’t actually a boy, and he wasn’t human or anything, but still… This had to be one of the best days of Willow’s whole life.

Well, except for the part where she still felt as if she was poaching Buffy’s territory somehow.

“I…I make you happy?” Somehow her utter lack of eloquence didn’t bother her this time.

“Yeah. You do.” Angel took her hands in his. How did he get near her again without her noticing? Oh, that would be the ‘you make me happy’ fog she’d been in. Okay.

“What are we going to do about Buffy?” Great. Nice job raining on your own parade there, Willow. They had sort of talked this out earlier. Couldn't she have just left it at that? Apparently not.

“We’ll figure it out. It’s not as if I’m cheating on her. She’ll be okay with this.”

While that was pretty much what Angel had said before, he sounded more convincing this time, actually, a lot more convincing. Willow almost believed him.

‘She’ll be okay with this’? Angel was dumbfounded at his own foolishness. Sure he'd said it before, but it didn't get more credible via repetition. It was probably the least believable lie he had told in…okay, the least believable lie he had ever told. Even as a human, and that was saying something considering Liam’s drunkenness took a toll on guile. This was the most pathetic day of Angel’s life and unlife.

Well, except for finding out that his feelings for Willow were mutual.

“She’s your friend, Willow. I’m sure she’ll come around.” Just dig yourself in deeper, there.

“I just…I don’t want to hurt her. I know you guys aren’t together anymore, but still…this is pretty sudden and she’s not going to expect it, what with you and me barely speaking to each other when she left and all.” He just kept holding Willow’s hands, trying to ignore the fact that her point was quite valid and that Buffy almost certainly would find this both surprising and distressing.

“We’ll come up with a good way to give her the news.” They’d better; either that or they’d be going with that stake-proof vest idea of Xander’s. “I’m sure she’ll understand.” He was also sure that pigs had wings.

You know, just a few moments ago, he almost had been confident that Buffy would be okay with this somehow. What was up with the mood swings? Were the Kalderash at it again?

Willow stood there for a moment, unaccustomedly quiet. It felt really good the way Angel was holding her hands. Maybe not as good as kissing him had felt, but still definitely of the very good.

She tried to think of something to say, something that wasn’t about Buffy, but that also wasn't about training or magic. “Thanks.” She decided to stop expecting herself to be witty and sparkling with the repartee and all. School = school and life = life and never the twain shall meet.

Angel appeared confused, as well he might since Willow had sort of forgotten to offer any context. “I mean thanks for saving me and everything. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be all shriveled and silver right now.”

His hold on her hands tightened as he squeezed them. “It wasn’t just me.”

“Well, no, but you’re the one who stopped Porthus from completing the spell. By the time Xander and Giles got there, it would have been too late.” Was it her imagination or was Angel beaming? Gosh! She finally managed to say the right thing. Maybe she had this life thing well in hand after all.

Angel stood there, clasping Willow’s hands in his. He felt better now than he had when he’d first realized he no longer felt overwhelming guilt. This might not be as blissful as kissing Willow had been, but it was splendid nonetheless.

Perhaps he was being childish, but he couldn’t help reveling in Willow’s extremely logical recasting of him as last night’s hero. “I’m just glad I got there in time,” he offered, trying to seem modest, even as ‘Take that, Harris!’ itched to be yelled at the top of his voice. He didn’t feel guilty about that, either, despite Xander’s expressed approval of his relationship with Willow. That candy bar business still stuck in Angel’s craw. Talk about luck.

Willow maintained her unusual silence, staring at their entwined hands. “Your life is pretty important to me,” Angel said meaningfully.

“Your life is, too…I mean your un…you know what I mean, right?”

“There’s no one like you.” Angel chuckled softly as he spoke and pulled Willow into his arms again. Was it his imagination or was this the perfect time for another kiss? Well, there was only one way to find out. As he suited the action to the thought and Willow responded exactly as he might wish, he concluded that maybe he had women figured out after all – or at least Willow.

More Angel smoochies! It might just be her imagination, but they seemed to get better every time. If it kept on like this, Willow might actually die from the pleasure at some point in the very near future. That didn’t even seem like such a tragic fate, especially since she had some firsthand knowledge of genuine tragic fates, including several that almost befell her.

“Mmm,” she moaned as Angel’s hands once again moved down below her waist. This time her brain thoughtfully stayed quiet and she just enjoyed the overall yumminess of the experience. Of course, her brain might also have realized that any cries of ‘danger’ would be hypocritical to say the least. Willow’s own hands were doing naughty things, too. Boy did Angel have a nice butt.

Naturally, her brain refused to mind its own business forever and it soon chided her that if she didn’t move her hands back to at least PG-rated terrain pretty soon, she’d be giving permission for things to go a bit further than she was admittedly prepared for. With a sigh, Willow did as her brain suggested, though she continued to kiss Angel. Mysteriously, he seemed to get with her brain’s program and his own hands moved north as well. Darn.

A moment later, they parted and Willow realized she was panting. Panting? Wow. She’d heard of kissing being that intense but she’d never believed she’d experience that for herself. Another science project idea came to mind, but was quickly dismissed as being likely to get her into way too much trouble with Principal Snyder.

“Wow,” she said softly, “that was really…”

“Amazing?” Angel finished. “Yeah, for me, too.” His hand moved to her cheek and she leaned into the caress. “You’re so beautiful.”

It was official – this was the happiest day of Willow’s life.

Kissing Willow. It had been even better this time. If it kept on getting better and better like this, Angel might combust sometime soon. It wouldn’t be the worst way to end his eternity, that was for sure. As someone who’d been on the wrong end of stakes, flaming arrows, branding irons, and Spike’s poetry, he could testify that it would be by far a more pleasant demise than any he’d almost suffered.

“Mmm.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. He’d meant what he said; she was truly lovely, especially now with her eyes shining and her lips swollen from being kissed. His optimism returned – things finally had to be going his way after all those decades of skulking in filth and paying the toll for crimes which – not to split hairs – he hadn’t actually committed. There was no way Buffy was going to spoil things.

She was a good person, Angel knew, a decent person; kind and caring and devoted to her friends. All right, she was a teenage girl with all the attendant hormones and emotional turmoil inherent in that state, but she was also the Slayer. Surely with that sacred duty came a maturity, a wisdom, and a character superior to that of other girls. Getting over Angel was certainly not going easily for her, of that he was sadly aware, but she was away from him now, had been for weeks, and with distance had to come some sober reflection and the realization that a vampire and a Slayer were doomed from the get-go (Angel was surprised at his own folly in beginning the relationship in the first place…okay, there were those skirts…and she was one heck of a fighter…and oh yeah, the skirts). Yes, things were going to be just fine.

After that moment’s thought, he turned his focus back to Willow, whose lips were practically beckoning to him, begging for another kiss. She was tempting, maybe a little too tempting. It was way too early in their relationship for this to go as far as he wanted to take it. So instead, he took her hand and drew her to the couch, where he then sat a prudent distance away from her.

“Angel?” she asked her voice shaking and uncertain. “Does this mean that we’re…that I’m your girlfriend now?”

She was adorable. “Yes,” he answered before he decided ‘to hell with resisting temptation’. He put his hand under her chin, leaned forward, and kissed her again.

It was official – this was the best day of Angel’s unlife.

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6896

From: "newstkilly" <newstkilly@...>
Date: Thu Oct 1, 2009 5:43 pm
Subject: I have added you to my friends network today!

newstkilly

Offline

I created this cool friends network and added you to my friends network. Hit-up
now:
http://lantlady.zoomshare.com/files/girlfriend.htm

#6895

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Thu Oct 1, 2009 3:23 pm
Subject: Fic: The Adventures Of...(Willow/Angel) 19/22 FRT-13/PG-13

flamingointh...

Offline

Title: The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Nineteen)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Angel

Rating: FRT-13/PG-13

Summary: *Set during the summer between Seasons One and Two of BTVS* While Buffy's in Los Angeles, summer in Sunnydale looks to be nothing but boring for Willow and Angel. But on the Hellmouth, you can never take anything for granted.

Warning: NONE

Word Count: 2171

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the super awesome Purplefeen. Thanks for helping me get fluffy. And extra special thanks to the incredible Kitty Poker who shepherded me through the beginnings of this last year. Words cannot express...

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is my first non-angst fic in quite awhile. I hope no one minds this departure from my norm.

The Adventures of Willow ‘Danger’ Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Nineteen)

Within seconds of her outburst, Willow found herself regretting it. Oh gosh did Angel look mad. Golden eyes, ridges, fangs…Eep! Not as ugly as Porthus, but much scarier, actually, so she figured it even deserved a second inner squeal. Eep! Her heart was pounding with fear and she thought it was going to explode.

Luckily, Angel’s regular face soon reappeared and Willow’s heart decided that it didn’t want to burst after all. That was good. It was one of her favorite organs and she didn’t think she’d do too well without it.

Actually, watching Angel’s features change was kind of fascinating, come to think of it, and she figured it might even have been worth the whole fear thing just to see it happen. Hearing about it from Buffy was nothing like seeing it live and in person. Wow…vampires were really different.

So caught up was she in contemplating Angel’s transformation that she almost forgot what she’d come here about. Almost wasn’t completely, though, and her mind soon steered itself back onto the main road. “Don’t you get all grr with me, mister! How dare you kiss me when you’ve been having sex with Buffy!”

What? Where in the hell had Willow gotten the idea that he was having sex with Buffy? Okay, yeah, he’d thought about it – wanted it, in fact – but let’s be fair…most males (and probably more than a few females) thought that way about Buffy. She was, after all, fit and beautiful and fond of displaying her assets in clothing that left very little to the imagination.

But there was a very wide margin between thought and action (if Willow were aware of the thoughts he’d had about her…) and it wasn’t fair to penalize him when he’d never crossed that line.

He found himself sidetracked momentarily by the realization that Willow hadn’t recoiled from his true face. If he could get this misconception about Buffy out of the way, that boded well, didn’t it? Because really, she’d reacted with less fear than Buffy had the first time she’d seen his true face and with none of the revulsion. Okay, Buffy was the Slayer and she hadn’t even known he was a vampire until that moment, but… Way to go, Angel. Just keep raining on your own parade.

For a moment, he was so tangled up in this side issue and its possible ramifications that he nearly forgot Willow was pretty angry with him at the moment. A glance at the look on her face, however, soon brought him back to reality and he remembered what she’d just said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, okay? Buffy and I have not had sex!”

You know, Angel looked pretty sincere as he said that. As convinced as she’d been when she’d come here, she had to admit that Buffy hadn’t actually said she and Angel had sex; it had just sounded an awful lot like that’s what she was hinting at. “You…you didn’t?” Could she dare to get her hopes up?

“No. What made you think we had?”

Honestly? She had no idea what to say to Angel’s question and she considered that a major faux pas on her part. It was a question Willow should have expected and for which she should have prepared an answer. For someone who was always so adept at anticipating the questions on even the trickiest teacher’s exams, she sure was failing at applying those classroom skills in a real world environment. Oh gosh! Did this mean school really didn’t prepare you for life?

“Ummm…” How could she say anything without violating Buffy’s confidence? Okay, Buffy hadn’t gotten around to telling her anything and she hadn’t prefaced her words with a statement like ‘please don’t tell anyone about this’, but still… Oh heck. This was one of those situations that screamed for a handbook with rules and examples, but there wasn’t one so Willow was just going to have to wing it. She already sucked as a friend anyway. “Buffy sort of called today and…”

“She said we’d slept together?” Oh no. Angel seemed mad again. His eyes were all golden and flashing and stuff. Willow hastened to clear up the misconceptions.

“Not exactly. Well, actually no. It’s just that she asked if I’d seen you and right after that she started talking about the way things were when she left and then she was saying all this cryptic stuff about big things that change relationships forever. But before I could find out what she meant, all of a sudden she hung up. So I just…okay, I assumed and she probably meant something else, but it seemed sort of logical. I mean, even you have to admit that it sort of sounded like maybe she could have meant...you know…sex.” This time, she blushed when she said the ‘S’ word. Now that her anger-fueled adrenaline had gone the way of Porthus, it occurred to her that she really was asking awfully impertinent questions.

Angel didn’t look mad anymore, though. No more gold eyes, no ridges, and no fangs. But now that all that was gone, Willow couldn’t tell what he was feeling. He just stood there – all silent and taciturn and blank and cryptic-looking. “Angel? Are you okay?”

You know, that was a good question. Was Angel okay? He had no idea. Because, as confused as he was about his feelings for Buffy, what Willow just said had added a whole other dimension to that confusion. “Yeah. Just thinking.” Nice lie there, boy-o.

“Oh. I probably should have done that before rushing over here all assuming and stuff, huh?”

Angel wasn't sure how to respond to that. Honestly? He found himself feeling glad that she had come over. She was the one visitor he’d had all morning who he actually liked – okay, more than liked – and even her yelling at him was a major improvement in the quality of his day. But now that she was here, he had no idea what to say to her, especially after knowing she’d just spoken to Buffy. Buffy – the stake-wielding elephant in the room.

“No…I mean…” He ran his hand through his hair and looked away. He’d been suave once – he had vivid memories of being suave – so why wasn’t it there now? Not to sound ungrateful, but shouldn’t a permanent soul also come with some further diminution of misery? Of course, he was rather pleased to be rid of the guilt and maybe asking for more would be greedy, but still…Oh hell. Just say something. “I only wish Buffy had said more.”

“It sounded like someone else was there, so she couldn’t really talk.” Willow seemed to be belatedly recalling some details.

Typical Buffy, Angel thought rather uncharitably, before chiding himself. She didn’t deserve that. If nothing else, she was the best Slayer he’d ever seen and that alone merited his respect. It was he who was the one whose actions weren’t aboveboard, who was the one looking elsewhere – though why he should feel any compunction about that was a mystery since Buffy had made it pretty clear they were no longer a they before she left. “Did she give any clue about why she was asking about me?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them; it was clear they’d made Willow believe he was still interested in Buffy. He needed to clear that up. “Whatever it is she was calling about…she and I aren’t together anymore.”

Now that was out of the blue. The statement stopped Willow short. So did the way he was looking at her. He’d had that same look just last night when… Oh gosh. He was really…but Buffy…but there’d been kissing and it had been really neat…but then there was Buffy…who’d just called…

“Really?” Could her voice have sounded any more sappy and hopeful? Please let the look on her face not be what she just knew it was.

Willow was so going to Hell.

“Really,” Angel replied. “Look, I know this isn’t going to be easy, but, Willow…after last night…there’s something between us and I think you feel it, too.”

She nodded but decided not to speak. She felt incoherent vowel sounds coming on. Angel liked her! He really, really liked her! That was so…

Horrible! Angel had been Buffy’s boyfriend. And while on one level it was kind of an ego boost to have the same guy who liked Buffy find her attractive (okay, more than kind of…but hey, cut her some slack, she’d been ‘geek girl’ forever), this was so wrong because Buffy was truly one of the best friends she’d ever had. Buffy had reached out to her and changed her life, made her a part of something greater than herself, and what did Willow do? Stabbed her in the back. There were commandments about this stuff and ‘thou shalt not have smoochies with thy best friend’s vampire’ was definitely one of them.

Somehow, remembering Angel’s excellent point that he and Buffy weren’t a couple anymore did nothing to help.

Now Angel felt utterly at sea. Willow had said nothing, not one thing. This was a girl who couldn’t say hello in less than fifteen words, but when Angel says there’s something between them? Nothing. Not a single syllable. Of course, it could be that she was just overwhelmed – he did need to heed the fact that she was sheltered and inexperienced (and no, this was not the time to recall Drusilla…and he also saw no need to tell Willow about his childer at all). That had to be it. It could not in any way be because he was wrong.

“Willow?” It wasn’t much as questions went, but there was no way he was going to let her know just how full of doubt and apprehension he was right now.

No reply. This was Hell. It had to be Hell.

“I’m sorry, I just…” She speaks! Angel almost sighed again. How ridiculous was that? Time to remember you’re a vampire. “How is Buffy going to feel?”

Angel got it at last; he did. She felt guilty. He did, too, now that he thought about it, but it was such a meager feeling compared to the horrific burden of old that it was hard to notice. That was a gift really. In fact it was…

Great! After decades of being burdened by a guilt so onerous it had driven him to eat rats and forgo bathing, it was such a relief to see things in perspective. Angelus’s deeds couldn’t truly be held to Angel’s account – though he still felt badly for all the dead and maimed – and hey, he had every right to start a relationship with Willow seeing as how Buffy had given him his walking papers. Okay, the fact that the two girls were best friends was a bit of a complication, but it wasn’t an insurmountable obstacle. After all, Buffy always had plenty of boys vying for her attention; one in particular had just made his intentions clear and even gotten Angel's blessing. She’d replace Angel in no time (well, maybe not, but she’d find enough distractions to ease the pain until that far-off day when she either found someone reasonably close to his level or caved in and started dating Harris). Now he just had to convince Willow that it was all going to be okay.

Somehow that seemed like it was going to be easier said than done.

“She’ll accept it. She’s had a whole summer away to get over us and you’re her best friend. You’ll see. She might find it awkward at first, but…”

Was Angel crazy? “Awkward? Angel this is a lot more than awkward. This is someone Buffy trusts – someone there is no way she ever saw as competition – just walking in and… Oh gosh. This is badness.”

Willow began to pace and ran her hand through her hair; a gesture that seemed vaguely familiar. Then she remembered where she had last seen it.

Brooding? Check. Guilt? Check. Black silk shirt? Check. And now… If she started drinking blood, she was going to seriously get a wiggins.

“You know. Jenny says I need to ask Giles to start training me. Do you have any idea what magic training is like?” When in doubt, you could never go wrong with a non sequitur.

“I’m guessing it’s not like Buffy’s training, is it?”

Huh? What was Willow talking about? Training? How had she even found this tangent, let alone gone off on it?

He watched her as she stood there, brow furrowed adorably, eyes wide and innocent, such a contrast to the pacing she’d just done and the brooding she’d seemed about to do (and no, Angel did not believe that he’d somehow passed that on to her).

It was funny, though, because her sudden and confusing change of subject made him realize something – she liked him…liked him a lot. She just didn’t know what to do about it. That was okay, because Angel did.

Without bothering to answer her, Angel walked right up to her, pulled her into his arms and… Ah, bliss. When in doubt, you could never go wrong with a kiss.

Tbc...

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6894

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Mon Sep 28, 2009 5:01 pm
Subject: Fic: The Adventures Of...(Willow/Angel) 18/22 FRT-13/PG-13

flamingointh...

Offline

Title: The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Eighteen)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Angel

Rating: FRT-13/PG-13

Summary: *Set during the summer between Seasons One and Two of BTVS* While Buffy's in Los Angeles, summer in Sunnydale looks to be nothing but boring for Willow and Angel. But on the Hellmouth, you can never take anything for granted.

Warning: NONE

Word Count: 2290

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the super awesome Purplefeen. Thanks for helping me get fluffy. And extra special thanks to the incredible Kitty Poker who shepherded me through the beginnings of this last year. Words cannot express...

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is my first non-angst fic in quite awhile. I hope no one minds this departure from my norm.

The Adventures of Willow ‘Danger’ Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Eighteen)

“I know he’s a vampire. It’s not exactly a secret,” Willow sniped, knowing she sounded disrespectful but unable to stop herself. ‘He’s a vampire’? Didn’t she deserve a better lecture than that? It was almost as impersonal as something she’d hear from her mom.

Jenny stood up, alternating between wringing her hands and gesturing randomly as she began to pace. “I know you think you know. But you don’t. Not really. Willow, he’s a monster. The atrocities he’s committed…you have no idea.”

It was official. Willow was completely and utterly fed up with cryptic. And that meant from everyone. Okay, maybe not Angel, but everyone else. Absolutely everyone else. Why couldn’t Jenny just say what it was she thought Willow was supposed to be so horrified about? And hey – newsflash! Unless she knew something the Watcher’s Council (and Giles) didn’t, any and all atrocities had been committed before Angel had gotten his soul back, so really none of it was his fault anyway. Sheesh.

She decided that saying all of that to herself was pointless, so she opened her mouth and out it came, “You know, all of that stuff happened when he was still a soulless demon, so don’t you think maybe you should cut him some slack or make allowances or just lighten up?”

Shock. Jenny seemed to be in complete shock. Was it wrong that Willow sort of enjoyed it? Okay, maybe not ‘sort of’. She did enjoy it. Sue her – she’d been predictable and deferential to authority figures her whole life. There was something empowering about being surprising and defiant. Because hey, now that she had super powers and all, she should probably be less on the meek side anyway.

Of course, immediately after the rush came the crash. Guilt. “I’m sorry,” she said to Jenny, hoping it would undo whatever she’d done.

No wonder she found Angel attractive (and yes, she was completely admitting it now). They had so much in common.

“You mean did I tell her it’s okay for you two to date? Are you nuts?” Xander asked, fortunately coming only vaguely near to Angel’s actual concern. “First of all, I wanted to make sure this wasn’t some game with you, and second, it’s not like you and I are bestest buds. If I had suggested that she should date you, she’d think I was possessed - again.”

Excellent points, and Angel had to concede them, but this was damned inconvenient. He fought to stay seated and maintain a nonchalant façade, but inside he was tense and unsettled.

It was official. Angel was completely and utterly annoyed with humans. All of them. (Yes, even Willow) How was he supposed to know if she was actually interested in him? Okay, there was the kiss, and she’d been a pretty enthusiastic participant, but that might only mean she enjoyed being kissed, not that she enjoyed it because it was Angel who had kissed her. With vampires, it was so much easier – no dating, no arch wordplay, no subtle signals to read or misread. Usually, you’d just give each other the eye and – Bam! There you were, naked and fucking like there was no tomorrow. Okay, it wasn’t exactly emotionally fulfilling, but sheesh, at least you knew where you stood (or lay…or rolled…or…).

Sharing any of his thoughts with Xander , however, would be a mistake, so Angel kept them to himself, saying instead, “So, you intend for her to just think you’re against the idea? Don’t you think maybe that might stand in the way? She is your best friend. I have to assume your opinion matters to her.”

Xander had that smug look again. Damn. “If I tell her I’m cool with this, she’ll think the same thing you did – that it’s all about me and Buffy. Then you’ll have no chance at all. Nope, I’ll just grumble about it mildly and then let her yell at me for being unreasonable. I’m thinking grudging acceptance at the point of her Resolve Face is the way to go.” That made…sense. For a moment, Angel was actually impressed with the boy’s cunning and guile.

Of course, after that, he felt sick to his stomach. How low could he fall? Admiring Xander Harris? At this rate, he was going to end up friends with him or something.

As plucky and adorable as Willow was (and let’s not forget the kissing), Angel wasn’t at all sure he wanted to have this in common with her.

Willow’s lecture hadn’t worked (of course, her apology might have been to blame for that) and Jenny stayed cryptic and dire. They achieved détente, but that was about it, before Jenny left with a sigh after extracting a promise from Willow that she’d talk to Giles about training if Giles didn’t bring it up first.

Unfortunately, while she was still incredibly worn-out, she’d caught a second wind and a nap was the impossible dream. As much as Willow longed to head upstairs and get some shut-eye, she was well aware that all that would happen would be pointless tossing and turning until she gave up and got up. Shoot. What was she supposed to do now?

There was always the ‘going over to Giles to ask about training’ thing, and she seriously considered it, but she was still having too much of a wiggins over the idea of having magical powers in the first place to talk about it yet. After all, it was pretty wacky. It wasn’t like she was really the magical type. Hello? Science geek here. Okay, yeah, she’d crossed over into the ‘Strange Stories and Amazing Facts’ realm more than just a bit what with the being Buffy’s sidekick (and almost Porthus’s mate) thing, but still…

Could her life get any weirder?

Oh yeah, it could. Because she had a thing for a vampire. Not just any vampire either, but the vampire who had only recently been her best friend’s boyfriend. Her best friend the Slayer, who had super powers she actually knew how to use.

Could she just rewind to the part where she was going to spend the summer watching Jeopardy and pining over Xander?

Angel couldn’t figure out any workable stratagem for surreptitiously finding out if Xander had any firsthand knowledge of how Willow felt or if it was all his own perception and the wishful thinking Angel still was not convinced was impossible. After a few more interminable minutes, Xander allowed himself to be persuaded that he wanted to leave and Angel found himself breathing a ridiculous sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, there was no way in Hell he was going to get any rest now, not with all these concerns about Willow tearing his peace of mind into confetti and throwing it hither and yon. No, he’d just end up lying there, tossing and turning on that ridiculously narrow bed of his (really, would it have hurt his redemption to get a king size?) until he finally gave up and got up, so what was the point?

You’d think after all these centuries, he’d have a grip on the subject of women, wouldn’t you? Wrong. He was a bigger idiot than he’d ever been, even as a human. Of course, he’d been drunk most of the time back then, so that might have coloured both his actions and his memories. As a demon, though…as a demon he’d been suave, polished, seductive, and confident. Angelus would never have needed to ask himself if a slip of a girl found him attractive; he’d have known she did and he’d have acted on it. Of course, he’d have also drained her after he’d taken his pleasure, but that wasn’t the point.

Now that he had a permanent soul, couldn’t he be allowed just a bit of his demon’s gifts?

Probably not, he supposed. The Kalderash hand was still on him, for all its fingers had been snapped by Porthus’s trap. But still, it seemed utterly unfair. Xander Harris, of all people, seemed confident that he could win over Buffy, who was so far out of his league that it was ridiculous. What would be so wrong if Angel were allowed at least appropriate confidence?

If this self-doubt was his new punishment, could he please trade it in and get the guilt back?

Just as Willow was about to see if going online would distract her, the phone rang. Oh great. Probably Xander. She debated not answering it, but what if it was her parents? She might not talk to them again for months. So she went to the phone and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Willow!”

Oh god… “Buffy?” Willow asked, trying hard not to sound as freaked out as she felt. Of all the times for her friend to call.

“That’s me,” Buffy chirped. She sounded carefree and happy and Willow was suddenly so consumed by guilt that she almost wished she had been transformed into an icky silver demon last night. It would serve her right. “So, what are you up to?”

Oh, getting kidnapped by a demon, finding out I have magical powers, stealing your boyfriend… “Nothing much,” Willow lied. “It’s kinda quiet around here.” Well, today it was, so that wasn’t really a lie, was it? “How about you?”

“I’m great!” Willow could almost hear Buffy bouncing on the other end of the line. “But…” Her voice fell and Willow wondered why. “Have you seen Angel?” And the guilt just increased exponentially. Before she could lie and say ‘no’, Buffy started talking again. “You know, before we left, things were kind of…and you know, in relationships, sometimes things happen that change everything. Big things. Important things. And I just…” Willow heard a voice in the background and then everything was muffled – it seemed as if Buffy had put her hand over the receiver. A moment later, she was back.“I gotta go, Wills. I’m sorry. I’ll call you back soon, okay? Bye!”

“No, wait!” Willow yelled futilely into the phone. Buffy had already hung up. Darn!

What was going on? What was Buffy talking about? Whatever it was, it seemed to be about Angel, but what could it be? What were the big, important things? Buffy sure had sounded all chirpy and happy…excessively so, actually. Then her tone had changed so suddenly. It was weird enough that it gave Willow a wiggins now that she thought about it. Buffy had never been mood swing gal before, so why would she...?

Willow ran through reason after reason, at last resorting to things she remembered from her mom’s books on teenage behaviour.

Oh God.

Had Buffy and Angel had sex?

Just as Angel had decided that tossing and turning didn’t sound so bad after all, the doorbell rang. Great. When did his apartment become the hottest ticket in town? He debated not answering it, but it was daytime and there was no way he could pretend he wasn’t home.

“Hello,” he said curtly as he opened the door. He knew he couldn’t be lucky enough for his visitor to be Willow.

“Angel.”

Ah, Jenny, charming as ever. Always good to see a member of the Kalderash family. Oh wait – it wasn’t. “I’d invite you in, but that would imply I wanted to talk to you and since I don’t…”

Jenny pushed past him anyway. Maybe Xander was on the wrong track. Sure Jenny was older, but really, they were made for each other. Rude, pushy, annoying – frankly, he was amazed they hadn’t already found each other. “Too bad. We’re going to have a talk anyway.”

“I’m pretty sure we don’t have anything to talk about. Contrary to your belief, my life is none of your business, especially not now. I’m pretty sure your family already knows that their little plot to keep me suffering forever went haywire and I’m also pretty sure they blame you.” The look on Jenny’s face told him he’d scored a bullseye. Good. At least he had insight into something.

Her voice was softer then he’d ever heard from her when she spoke again. “Look. We’re not friends and we never will be.” Where had he heard that before? Oh yeah – Xander! And again he wondered why those two weren’t dating. “But we do have one thing in common. We both care about Willow. Neither one of us wants to see her hurt. And I think we both know that you’re all wrong for her.”

Okay, maybe she and Xander weren’t made for each other after all. And really, coming from someone who’d lied to Willow for months, the concern seemed slightly hypocritical, especially since she’d known something about Angel that really had put Willow in danger. “Okay, you’ve said what you wanted to say. I’d like you to leave now.” When Jenny hesitated, he took her arm and guided her back to the door. “Now,” he repeated.

She relented, probably because she wanted him to let go of her – good thing being able to use repulsion to your advantage there, Angel. “Think about what I said,” were the last words he heard before he closed the door behind her.

With that, Angel at last felt free to go toss and turn to his heart’s content. But just as he laid down, the doorbell rang again. It seemed that Jenny must have changed her mind and wanted to harangue him some more.

He was fed up. This was it. No more Mr. Nice Vamp. Full game face – complete with golden eyes – in force, he leapt from the bed, and was at the door in less than a second.

“What?” he roared as he flung it open.

Oh no. It wasn’t Jenny. It was…

“Why didn’t you tell me that you and Buffy were having sex?”

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6893

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Thu Sep 24, 2009 4:27 pm
Subject: Fic: The Adventures Of...(Willow/Angel) 17/22 FRT-13/PG-13

flamingointh...

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Title: The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Seventeen)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Angel

Rating: FRT-13/PG-13

Summary: *Set during the summer between Seasons One and Two of BTVS* While Buffy's in Los Angeles, summer in Sunnydale looks to be nothing but boring for Willow and Angel. But on the Hellmouth, you can never take anything for granted.

Warning: NONE

Word Count: 2258

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the super awesome Purplefeen. Thanks for helping me get fluffy. And extra special thanks to the incredible Kitty Poker who shepherded me through the beginnings of this last year. Words cannot express...

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is my first non-angst fic in quite awhile. I hope no one minds this departure from my norm.

The Adventures of Willow ‘Danger’ Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Seventeen)

“Power? Me?” Okay, one word questions that weren’t terribly coherent, but really, the whole idea that she had some sort of natural mojo was just too weird. Okay, yes, Dietrich…Porthus…whoever had said she did, but Willow had pretty much convinced herself that he had read his tea leaves wrong or something and she’d shuffled this issue to the bottom of the giant pack she currently had to deal with. Finding out that Jenny agreed with him made her wonder if maybe she wasn’t the only one who’d drunk something un-kosher at Willie’s.

“I know it’s hard to accept,” Jenny said, taking Willow’s hand in hers, “But Rup…Giles and I have both seen it. Angel, too.” That last name was said quietly, almost grudgingly, and Willow might have wondered about that, maybe (or maybe not, actually, all things considered), if she weren’t still stupefied and confused by the whole idea that she was something…sort of like Buffy, at least in a ‘having otherworldly powers’ kind of way.

She thought of sitting down and then realized she already was. Darn. That was inconvenient. Because she couldn’t very well lie down with company here. She was just going to have to keep feeling uncomfortably dizzy and sort of queasy.

“I just…are you guys sure? Because I really don’t feel all that magical.” And she didn’t. She still felt like Willow – and that wasn’t a really impressive kind of feeling. How could the girl who got made fun of nearly every day, the girl whose one and only super power had always appeared to be her uncanny ability to blow every grade curve, be something extraordinary?

Jenny chuckled lightly, and Willow wondered if maybe she was being made fun of, but then the woman spoke. “You are. You’ve just never tapped into that well within you. You don’t even know what it is yet. But that’s why you need to start learning, to start training. Having that kind of power inside you…unfocused and out of your command? It’s just going to attract more creatures like Porthus, demons who want to use it for their own ends, unless you own it.”

Okay, was it just Willow or did Jenny’s characterization of her power her sound really, really scary? It gave her this visual of something alien inside her and it was creepy. Also nauseating. And had she mentioned scary? Really, really scary?

You know the part where she’d always secretly sort-of-kind-of envied Buffy? Yeah, she wanted to take that back now.

“Willow? You want to talk about me and Willow?” Smooth, Angel. Especially the part where your voice got high and squeaky at the end. But really – the idea of Xander Harris sitting calmly on his couch talking about Angel and Willow as a potential couple? It was easily the strangest thing that had happened to him in decades, and that included the haircut he’d sported during the 70’s. What about the 'no putting the moves on Willow' edict he'd issued last night?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Xander said and Angel nearly burst out laughing. Probably not even close. But still, he kept his mirth in check and decided to listen to what the boy had to say. “I hate you, you hate me, and no, that’s never going to change.” His face got that serious look again and Angel wondered if he was possessed. “But I love Willow and I want her to be happy.”

Angel needed to sit. Sadly, the only place to sit was on the couch next to Xander and that was not going to happen, so… He stayed standing. When this was over, maybe tonight, he really needed to look into buying some more furniture. He had taken Spartan to an inconvenient extreme.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the magnanimity and all,” Angel said, eyeing Xander for hidden stakes, “but I really don’t see how this is any of your business.” And he didn’t. In his opinion, Willow had always been a better friend to Xander than vice versa. Add to that the fact that he still couldn’t believe Xander had changed his mind so suddenly (or at all, really) and…well…no, he wasn’t in a diplomatic frame of mind.

Xander stood up. “Look, whether you like it or not, Willow is my best friend. So her dating a vampire? A vampire who used to be her best friend’s boyfriend? Yeah – that’s my business.” He stopped for a moment and seemed to collect himself. “Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m suddenly okay with this. Because this could easily turn into something very bad once Buffy comes home. But the way I see it, you two broke up anyway, and Willow? Now that it seems she’s actually some sort of super-power in her own right, I’m thinking she needs a guy who can handle that. And as much as I hate to admit it, you’re probably that guy.”

This could not possibly get more bizarre. But just when he felt like his brain was going to explode from the effort of trying to cope with the idea of Xander accepting him having any kind of relationship with Willow – and let’s not forget that Angel himself was still trying to adjust to that idea – something Xander had said registered with him and it all seemed to suddenly make some sort of sense.

“And of course this has nothing to do with you wanting a shot with Buffy.”

“Is there any way I could just…give it back or something? Because I’m not the super power type. Ask anyone. I’m much more the wait-for-Buffy-to-kill-it type.”

Jenny made a dismissive sound before responding, “That’s not remotely true. Look at the way you went after Porthus. The way you were prepared to go it alone when you thought Buffy needed protection.”

Hmmm. That was kind of a good point. And Willow almost got kind of puffed up about it until her darn memory insisted on reminding her that she’d also nearly wound up as a shriveled silver demon and it took four people to rescue her. Some magic girl.

Maybe she’d said that aloud. Or maybe Jenny could read minds. “You didn’t even know that you had that power within you. You could hardly have been expected to use it. But that makes what you did even more remarkable.”

Remarkable? Really? Because words like ‘stupid’ seemed more appropriate considering how she’d wound up drugged and tied to a table. But Jenny was a teacher, so maybe she knew stuff. Of course, since she had lied about her name, maybe she’d lied about other things. What if she wasn’t a teacher at all? What if…?

Okay, paranoid conspiracy theories were so not helpful to Willow’s emotional well-being right now.

“I know you don’t necessarily trust me right now.” Willow’s eyes shot wide. Could Jenny read minds? “And I understand that. But I know that when you talk to Giles, you’ll see that he agrees with me.”

“He really is going to forgive you, you know,” Willow offered, leaping eagerly at the opening for a change of topic. “He just needs some time to get over the whole ‘you lying to all of us for months’ thing.” Gosh, that actually sounded harsher than she meant it to be, but she added a cheery grin and hoped for the best.

Jenny’s hopeful expression put Willow’s fears of mind-reading to rest, at least, since she obviously couldn’t sense Willow’s actual ambivalence (or those pesky conspiracy theories that wouldn’t go away). But of course, Jenny immediately schooled her features back into 'adult-face' and turned the tables again. “There’s something else we need to talk about. We need to talk about Angel.”

“You know, Deadboy, I resent that. Here I am actually trying to be nice to you and…”

“And your evasiveness just proves my point. This is all about you thinking that with me out of the way, you’ll have a clear shot at Buffy.” Angel paused and then even he was shocked by what he said next. “You have my blessing. You might even be good for her.”

He couldn’t believe he just said that, but oddly, he really was sort of comfortable with the idea of Xander and Buffy…except for the part where he thought Xander might actually be good for her. Oh, he thought that – he just felt incredibly queasy about the fact that he did.

Xander, naturally, had to display implausible perspicacity. “Bet that hurt for you to say.” More of that smug expression Angel had learned to loathe last night. Someday he was going to show the boy up. He could hardly wait for that day to arrive.

“No more than it hurt you to come here in the first place.” Taking a breath, he decided to save the game of ‘so’s your old man’ for another time. “Look. You’re right – I’ve developed feelings for Willow. And yes, Buffy and I are over. Sometimes, I’m not even sure there really was a Buffy and I. I mean, yeah, she’s great-looking and we both care about fighting evil, but…”

Stop! If Angel wasn’t mistaken, he had just been about to make self-revelatory statements to Xander Harris. Oh, the humanity. Thank heavens he’d restrained himself in the nick of time.

“I’m guessing Buffy doesn’t exactly have those same doubts, but don’t worry,” Xander touched his hands to his shoulders, “See these? They’re right here for her to cry on. She’ll forget all about you in no time…well, except for when she sees you with Willow. Oh God. This is badness, lots and lots of badness.”

Xander’s pessimism had a chilling effect on Angel. “You don’t think… she wouldn’t hurt Willow, would she?” Maybe he and Willow ought to leave town for a short while…say, five or ten years.

“No, Willow would probably be safe. You on the other hand? Do they make stake-proof vests?” Angel could almost see a light bulb going on over Xander’s head. “Hey! Maybe Willow could conjure up something like that with those mystical powers she’s supposed to have.” The boy’s face turned serious again as his own words seemed to remind him of something. “Speaking of which, we need to have a talk. You do like her for her right, and not just because she might be some kind of super hero or something now?”

“Angel?” Willow asked, her voice high enough to suggest the inhalation of helium in place of oxygen. “Why do we need to talk about Angel?”

“I think you know why.” Jenny’s manner became motherly and the hair on the back of Willow’s neck stood up. She never trusted ‘motherly’. When her own mother acted that way, it was a sure sign of an ulterior motive and impending disaster (and no, she did not even want to think about how her mother had actually used the confidences she’d elicited last time in a paper she’d delivered at a symposium).

Willow decided to keep playing dumb. “No. I can’t think of anything.” And that would work so much better if she didn’t sound guilty as could be. Acting was not her forté.

“Angel told me that he kissed you.”

“Oh that,” Willow said.

“Yes, that. I know that I’m probably not the person to talk to you about this. I know that you might see me as prejudiced. But I have to tell you that it’s a terrible idea to have a relationship with him.” Here it comes…the lecture. Bring it on. Would it be: ‘you’re stealing your best friend’s boyfriend’ (something about which Willow already felt endless amounts of guilt) or ‘he’s not actually interested in you’ (Willow’s deepest and most abiding fear)? “He’s a vampire, Willow.”

Was it Willow or was a statement that obvious really a letdown?

“Are you serious?” Angel asked, quickly reviving his previous low opinion of Xander’s intelligence and affection for Willow. “What would make you ask a question like that?”

“I don’t know, Angel,” Xander’s tone was sarcastic. “Maybe the fact that you’ve barely ever spoken to her before and now all of a sudden you’re all over her?”

‘All over her’? That was a bit crudely characterized. Was this about Willow’s hands on his..? No. Couldn’t be that. They’d been positioned wrong for Xander to have seen and anyway… Quit thinking this to death and just say something. “It was one kiss.” Xander snorted, but said nothing, which only irritated Angel more than ever. He almost told himself to take a deep breath and calm down when it occurred to him that breathing hadn’t done much for him in over two centuries. Boy was he getting forgetful in his old (er) age.

Still, Xander had a point (and oh how he hated to concede that). It was rather sudden. Even Angel had been taken utterly by surprise by his new perspective on Willow. But in his defense, it wasn’t as if he’d really ever had the chance to spend time with Willow before and what little time he had, either Buffy had been there or Willow’s life needed saving – neither scenario had really allowed for a whole lot of getting to know each other. Then of course there was the whole ‘brooding loner’ thing; Angel was disgusted with the memory of what he’d been like only twenty-four hours ago. Sheesh. What a downer he’d been.

Which brought up a very important point. One which he decided to try discussing in a roundabout way. The last thing he wanted was to give Xander something else to be smug about.

“Have you talked about any of this with Willow?”

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops. - Kurt Vonnegut

#6892

From: "saraahichick" <saraahichick@...>
Date: Thu Sep 24, 2009 6:23 am
Subject: You're Invited!

saraahichick

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You're Invited to join my friends network, check my profile here:
http://harleyrider.zoomshare.com/files/CoolRiders.htm

#6891

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Mon Sep 21, 2009 6:29 pm
Subject: Fic: The Adventures Of...(Willow/Angel) 16/22 FRT-13/PG-13

flamingointh...

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Title: The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Sixteen)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Angel

Rating: FRT-13/PG-13 (at least for now)

Summary: *Set during the summer between Seasons One and Two of BTVS* While Buffy's in Los Angeles, summer in Sunnydale looks to be nothing but boring for Willow and Angel. But on the Hellmouth, you can never take anything for granted.

Warning: NONE

Word Count: 2299

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the super awesome Purplefeen. Thanks for helping me get fluffy. And extra special thanks to the incredible Kitty Poker who shepherded me through the beginnings of this last year. Words cannot express...

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is my first non-angst fic in quite awhile. I hope no one minds this departure from my norm.

The Adventures of Willow ‘Danger’ Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Sixteen)

It had been only about twelve hours since Porthus had perished at the end of a Three Musketeers bar and what Willow needed very badly was the chance to do some thinking. Her sleep had been plagued by strange dreams (including one completely unbelievable one featuring Cordelia Chase making out with Xander), and what was most disturbing about them was that they were less bizarre than the events of last night. Yes, what Willow required right now was some quiet time where she could think through everything that had happened and try to understand it all.

She wasn’t going to get it, that was for sure, at least not anytime soon.

“Xander, it’s okay. Really. I mean, you killed Porthus and I think that pretty much makes everything alright. ” And it was all okay, sort of, but she was also kind of irritated that she had to have this conversation with him at this precise date and time. Not that she wasn’t happy that he’d come by to apologize and all – and she was really, really grateful that he’d helped save her from becoming a Porthus-ette – but she was tired and – again – she was really craving some solitude in which to think deep thoughts (or at least figure out what the hell had happened to her life during her brief name change).

But no, Xander was going to keep right on talking. Willow tried to keep her sigh inaudible.

“No, it isn’t. I mean, yeah, killing him was one of the highlights of my life and I intend to bask in the glory for as long as humanly possible,” Xander preened slightly before continuing, “but I should have realized that Dietrich was Porthus. The guy was just too slick. He had to be a demon.”

A part of Willow heard subtext in his words – subtext that sounded suspiciously like ‘the guy was too good-looking to want you if he hadn’t actually been a disgusting, shriveled-up demon’ – but she might just have been insecure and overly sensitive, so she decided to let it slide and let him keep talking.

Besides, starting an argument would keep him at her house longer.

It had been about twelve hours since Angel had been forced to endure the spectacle of the far-too-pleased-with-himself Xander Harris doing in Porthus with a candy bar and what he really needed was rest and the chance to collect his thoughts. After all, he had literally been made a new man tonight and that was no small thing. He was already feeling so strange without the brooding that he was this close to brooding about its absence just to make himself feel more normal. Add in the turmoil Willow had brought to his emotional life and…well…he really needed to take the time to get to know himself better.

He wasn’t going to get it anytime soon; that seemed certain.

“I understand how you feel, but there’s nothing going on between Willow and I.” That was as honest as could be…well, sort of, anyway, and really, after everything that poor Giles had just learned, it was kindness itself to spare him from more unequivocal, unvarnished truth. Between learning Jenny Calendar was a Kalderash Gypsy and that he had yet another super-powered teenager in his charge, well…come to think of it, Angel could use a vacation from any more of this revelation stuff as well. Speaking of which, he could also use some peace and quiet.

Giles, however, wasn’t buying Angel’s denial. Which meant that he wasn’t leaving.

“Excuse me if I find that difficult to believe in light of your recent conduct. It’s obvious to everyone that your interest in her has turned into something more than strictly platonic. And that brings me to another matter we also need to discuss.” Oh no, here it comes…a lecture about his intentions. “Might I inquire what you intend to do about Buffy?”

Buffy? Oh Buffy. Now Angel remembered, though he wondered why she was proving to be so easy to forget. Did she actually have to be right in front of him in order for him to recall the feelings he’d been so sure of in days gone by? Had their whole relationship really been based on no sturdier foundation than a mutual interest in fighting evil and her tendency to display her charms with hearty abandon?

Did Angel really want an answer to that last question? Not really. So he just set his mind to figuring out how to answer Giles.

Alone at last. Willow had been so grateful when she spotted an opening by which to ease Xander out the door. So grateful was she, in fact, that she had foregone the opportunity it had also afforded to mention that his killing of Porthus was entirely accidental, despite her lingering bitterness over his certainty that Dietrich was only using her to get to Buffy even before he knew that Dietrich and Porthus were one and the same. Maybe it was juvenile of her, but his remarks still stung.

And hey, he was lucky she’d even let him into her house today because, she suddenly recalled with belated wakefulness, she had actually banned him from this very residence not twenty-four hours earlier.

Right now, however, nothing mattered as much as the fact that she was alone – blissfully alone. It made her realize that she was still very tired. Nearly being demonized could sure take it out of a girl. Maybe she should go take a nap and do the thinking thing later. Not that she didn’t have a whole day’s worth of ruminating to do, but she might do a better job if she took a nap first. Even just dealing with the ramifications of kissing Angel (because really, as much as he’d initiated it, her annoyingly accurate memory supplied enough details of her tongue in his mouth and her hands wandering down to his - Eep! Don’t go there - to label her an equal participant) would require a very sharp mind. And Willow’s mind right now? Not so sharp. Kind of dull, actually. Not butter knife dull, but definitely dull – like that steak knife they’d had since she was little that never cut anything except her finger when she’d tried to slice a tomato with it. Yeah. Like that.

A nap was definitely called for, she decided once she could pull her mind back from its meandering into the cutlery drawer. With that in mind, she directed her feet towards the stairs and…

The doorbell rang. Oh shoot! Who the heck could it be now?

Alone at last. Angel could not remember ever being so grateful to see the door close behind a departing visitor and he was a creature fonder than most of showing would-be companions where to head in. So eager had he been to ensure the passage of that tweed jacket from his living room that he’d stayed silent through the rest of Giles’s pompous disquisition on Angel’s unsuitability as a beau for either Willow or Buffy. The things a vampire put up with in order to get some peace and quiet.

And hey, on the subject of unsuitable romantic interests, was Giles – whose love life revolved around a Kalderash Gypsy on a mission to keep Angel miserable for eternity – really one to go casting stones? Angel might brood (at least he did before last night), but he kept his misery neatly confined to the sanctum of his own psyche, thank you very much, and felt no need to consign others to the same fate.

Right now, however, what Angel really needed to do was sit down and take stock. He was alone, happily alone, in his Spartan abode with not so much as a television set to serve as a distraction. Now was the perfect time for…well…some soul-searching. (Yes, he winced internally at the phrase, but it was the one that fit, so what could he do?) Still, he had to admit to a certain level of fatigue. Spending a night fighting evil alongside the likes of Xander Harris and getting the nature of one’s being transformed had a way of taking it out of a guy. Even dealing with just the ramifications of kissing Willow (and okay, yes, she had kissed him back – quite skillfully, too, for a girl so delectably innocent – but he’d initiated it and the buck stopped at Angel) would require a mind equipped for emotional angst. His mind right now? Not quite ready for that sort of thing. The most he could manage to wade through would be one of Buffy’s rants about getting demon slime on a new blouse. And no, he wasn’t actually interested in doing that either.

He needed some sleep – that was the ticket, sleep. A few hours of shut-eye and he’d feel like a new vampire, all revved up and ready for a bracing round of self-analysis and the sort of reflection that did not involve a mirror.

Just then, there was a knock on his door. Dammit! Who the hell was it this time?

Willow fought the simultaneous impulses to hide and yell ‘go away’, forcing herself instead to go to the door and, rather than fling it open and glare at her new visitor, open it calmly and try to be polite.

She was actually sort of shocked when she saw who it was. “Ms. Calendar…I mean Kalderash. What are you doing here?” Oops! How’s the politeness thing going for you, Willow? Gee, not so well, thanks. “I mean, it’s kind of a surprise to see you. Come in.” She stood back and allowed her caller to enter.

“You can call me Jenny, Willow. I think we’ve gone way beyond the teacher/student relationship by now.” The words seemed oddly sharp but her expression was kindly, so Willow smiled at her as she led her into the living room where they both sat down on the sofa.

“Okay, Jenny. Or…would you prefer Janna?” The moment those last words left her mouth, Willow knew she’d misspoken. She’d been trying to be understanding, but instead, she seemed to have upset Ms…Jenny. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just…I’m not Janna anymore, and I never will be again. I spoke to my uncle last night and…they’ve disowned me.”

“Oh gosh!” Willow exclaimed. She felt for Jenny; she really did. There were advantages, she realized, to having parents who paid no attention to you – even if Willow ever did anything they’d want to disown her for, the likelihood of them ever finding out she’d done it was pretty much nil.

“I’ll be okay. At least I have a job, right?” Jenny tried to laugh, but it came off sort of pathetic.

“And friends,” Willow added, reaching over and putting her hand over Jenny’s, “Don’t forget your friends.”

“Thank you.” It was easy to tell Jenny wanted to say more, but she didn’t.

Willow figured that she knew what Jenny wanted to say, though, so she brought it up herself. “Giles will be okay with this. I know it. He understands sacred duty type stuff. Just give him some time.”

Again, there was a fond look before Jenny’s face got that 'grown-up distance' expression. “Yes, well…I didn’t come here to talk about me. I came here to talk about you.”

“Me?” Oh no. Not another lecture. She’d just finished keeping a straight face while Xander chided her for doing dangerous stuff. She was too tired to endure another one with equanimity.

“Yes, you, Willow. I know Giles will probably want to discuss this with you as well,” Willow braced herself, “but I also want to help if I can. We need to start training you. The power you have…you need to be taught to use it properly.”

What? Huh? What?

Angel fought the urge to vamp as he nearly threw open his apartment door. This had better not be another one of those damn magazine salesmen.

Oh no. Getting a good look at the person standing in the hallway, Angel changed his mind. Where was a magazine salesman when you needed one? He’d happily buy subscriptions from now until the obsolescence of paper rather than face… “Xander. What are you doing here?” He stood squarely in the middle of the doorway.

Xander, of course, pushed right past him and into the apartment. “Thanks, Deadboy. I’d love to come in and have a chat with you.”

“You wanna get to the point?” Angel said, bristling with irritation he fought to suppress at the demeaning new sobriquet with which the obnoxious boy had just tagged him. The last thing he needed to do was let Harris know he’d scored a hit.

“I just came from Willow’s house.” Okay, if that was an explanation it was one only comprehensible to junk-food-addled thought processes.

“And?” Angel replied, wishing he had a watch on so he could gaze pointedly at it. He contented himself with crossing his arms and tapping his foot.

“Annnnnnd,” Xander drew out the word melodramatically, “We need to talk about her. More specifically, we need to talk about you and her.”

Goody. A lecture from Xander Harris warning him to stay away from Willow. Add in a bracing cold shower in holy water and a jog in the noonday sun and this could be Angel’s best day ever. “Do we now?”

“Look,” Xander said, parking himself on Angel’s couch, his tone less strident and more serious, “I didn’t come here to pick a fight with you, okay? I came here to make sure that you don’t hurt my best friend. Because Willow’s pretty special, and I think you’ve noticed that, and I want to make sure you understand just how special she is and how much longer you won’t live if you break her heart.”

Huh? What? Huh?

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops. - Kurt Vonnegut

#6890

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Thu Sep 17, 2009 5:10 pm
Subject: Fic: The Adventures Of...(Willow/Angel) 15/? PG-13/FRT-13

flamingointh...

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Title: The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Fifteen)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Angel

Rating: FRT-13/PG-13

Summary: *Set during the summer between Seasons One and Two of BTVS* While Buffy's in Los Angeles, summer in Sunnydale looks to be nothing but boring for Willow and Angel. But on the Hellmouth, you can never take anything for granted.

Warning: NONE

Word Count: 2327

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the super awesome Purplefeen. Thanks for helping me get fluffy. And extra special thanks to the incredible Kitty Poker who shepherded me through the beginnings of this last year. Words cannot express...

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is my first non-angst fic in quite awhile. I hope no one minds this departure from my norm.

The Adventures of Willow ‘Danger’ Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Fifteen)

“There was a spell?” Xander asked and Willow sighed. Why did he think Angel had been unconscious when he and Giles arrived? She didn’t feel guilty about her disdain, either, because she was still angry at him despite the fact that he'd just slain...hey! He had so been wrong about Dietrich using her to get to Buffy. She was never going to let him forget that.

“Yeah. Two spells, even. Well, one, actually, since Angel managed to keep him from casting the one that would have made me a Porthus-ette – by the way, thanks for that, Angel.” She walked over and hugged her saviour. She liked her eyes green, thank you very much, and was glad they were going to stay that way. “But…what was I…?” She’d lost her train of thought again and raced to catch up before it pulled out of the station. “Oh! The spell! The one Porthus did on you,” she was staring at Angel now, remembering how worried she’d been about… “Your soul! Is it okay? Do you feel the same?”

“Why would you think the spell had something to do with Angel’s soul?” Giles asked. He had that ‘imminent apocalypse’ look, the one that he also had whenever Buffy went off half-cocked. Okay, it was pretty much his normal look, but right now it seemed more dire, probably because Buffy had been gone for months and the look had been semi-retired.

“Because he told me something tonight. Right before I passed out, I mean.” She cringed at the memory of how stupid she’d been…and then at the chorus of voices.

“What?” It was in Dolby Surround, but Xander’s voice hit the highest pitch.

“I…ummm…Dietrich, I mean Porthus” – the name thing was still really confusing – “he…ummm…he kind of drugged my drink. But that’s not the important part, especially since you guys rescued me and he’s dead now and all. Before I passed out” – and this time Willow hit them with her Resolve Face to prevent further interruption – “he told me something weird about Angel. He said Angel could lose his soul if he ever finds true happiness. And he thought Angel was trying to lose his soul with me.”

What? His soul wasn’t secure? It was all Angel could do to stay standing. Of course, that true happiness thing wasn’t really likely. Even he had to acknowledge that he wasn’t the cheeriest vampire around. Not cheery at all, really.

Okay, he brooded…all the time…constantly…even when he was asleep. There. He admitted it.

Except…

He felt different now. Oh, sure, he was a bit unnerved. Recent unconsciousness, a surfeit of Xander Harris – these things could definitely bring down a guy’s mood – but something was missing and he didn’t think it was his soul. In fact, he realized with a quick glance at the smooth, unmarked skin of Xander’s neck, he knew it wasn’t. There was no way his demon would have let that boy live

And what was that about him trying to lose his soul with Willow? Not that she couldn’t make a man – or a vampire, for that matter – very happy, but he didn’t…okay, yes, he did think about her that way, and quite often in the past couple of days, but still…

Sooner or later, the cacophony around him had been bound to become a din fit to drown out his thoughts and it had reached that point right now. Guess he’d better try to catch up with what had been said during his mental absence.

“…I can’t fathom what they were about. Why on Earth would they leave a loophole like that? Did they want to see Angelus unleashed on the world again? No doubt he’d be worse than ever after years of being caged up, so to speak. I simply don’t…”

Something about the way Giles was talking stuck in Angel’s craw. Maybe it was the way he was discussing him as if he weren’t there at all. Okay, he’d been lost in thought, but he’d still been here. It made him just testy enough to interrupt the man and blurt out: “Why don’t we ask our resident Gypsy if she knows anything?”

Resident who? What was Angel talking about? Willow looked around in confusion, hoping somebody else had a clue. But when she did, she was the one who figured it out.

Jenny Calendar looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

Oh.

Still, while she could kind of understand Angel’s Gypsy issues, why did he assume that Ms. Calendar knew anything about his curse? And why was she acting as if some dark secret had been revealed? What was so terrible about being a Gypsy? Willow actually felt a sort of historical bond with her now, seeing as how probably both of them had relatives who’d perished in the Holocaust and everything. So she was about to come to her mentor’s defense when…

Wait a minute. Maybe Angel was onto something after all. Ms. Calendar had screamed “No” when Porthus had been casting that spell. And it had sounded like a 'no' with some knowledge behind it. Did she know what the spell was? And if it had anything to do with Angel’s soul?

As a consequence of her new line of thinking, when Willow opened her mouth, instead of launching into a rant about bigotry and stereotypes, she found herself looking straight at her favorite teacher and asking, “Do you know what the spell was?”

Giles and Xander were making noises that Angel supposed were words, but frankly, he could care less. Was it wrong of him to take pleasure in the caught, helpless look on Jenny’s face? Tough. It was his turn to glory in someone else’s discomfort. Thank you, Willow.

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the most mature attitude, but sooner or later he was going to start brooding and hating himself again and he wanted to enjoy these moments where he felt inexplicably lighter to the fullest.

Nevertheless, even he had to admit that what was really important was figuring out what the heck Porthus had done to him.

“Look. I’m sorry if I revealed something you’d rather have kept private.” Angel deliberately gentled his tone and manner, sighing inwardly at the end of his fun. The things a vampire was willing to do to find out how he’d been cursed this time…“I’m pretty unnerved by all of this and I guess I spoke without thinking.” He broke out the soft brown eyes – they always worked on Buffy – and hoped for the best.

Score! They worked. Well, he amended with a glance out of the corner of his eyes at the still hard-faced Xander Harris, they worked on everyone who mattered.

“It’s okay, Angel,” Jenny said, as she drew a deep breath, “I think it’s about time that everyone knew the truth.”

Gosh. Even Xander had shut up. Ms. Calendar had been keeping secrets. And it seemed like they weren’t just about her ethnicity. This just seemed so unlike her. And really, she was such a nice person. How bad could those secrets be?

“My real name isn’t Jenny Calendar. It’s Janna Kalderash.”

Oh. Maybe they could be that bad. Because wasn’t Kalderash the name of…

“You’re a member of the clan that cursed me.” Angel looked kind of…well…mad. Which Willow sort of guessed he had a right to be, even though, obviously, Ms. Calendar…or Kalderash…or…

Was Willow the only person in Sunnydale who had started life with one name and stuck with it? Because right now her head was spinning. First it was Dietrich being Porthus and now… Did Giles maybe have some aspirin?

“Yes.” For a moment Willow thought maybe Ms…Kalderash had read her mind, but then she realized the woman was talking to Angel. Phew. Because things were already confusing without adding creepy to the mix…which, actually, it already had been when handsome Dietrich turned out to be shriveled and gross and…pay attention, Willow. Important now stuff now – worry about the Dietrich…Porthus…whatever stuff later.

“Why did you feel the need to keep that from us?” Giles said ‘us’ but Willow realized he’d meant ‘him’. It didn’t take much to figure out that he kind of had a crush on Ms…Whatever-her-name-was.

“It wasn’t up to me,” Janna Kalderash – Willow was practicing saying the name to herself over and over – said as she walked back over to Giles and took his hand. “So many times I wanted to tell you, but my family…”

“Why does your family even care what you do?” Willow asked. Admittedly, her parents were more laissez-faire than most, but she figured that by the time you were a grown-up, all parents were…weren’t they?

“Because they sent me here. They sent me here to watch Angel. To make sure he was still suffering. To make sure he would always suffer. Of course now…”

“Now what?” Willow asked nervously. The question was on everyone’s lips but she beat them to it.

“I failed. At least that’s what my family will say.”

Okay, was being cryptic some new disease? Because it seemed like everyone was starting to talk in riddles. Even Angel looked exasperated and he practically invented the whole ‘talking without actually saying anything’ thing.

Fortunately, the weight of a room full of annoyed stares seemed to be a cure. Without further prompting, Ms. Kalderash made herself clear…sort of. “You can be as happy as you want to be now, Angel. There’s nothing standing in your way.”

Huh?

Huh? Angel’s head was spinning. He’d only just learned that his soul wasn’t permanent and now Jenny…Janna…whoever she was seemed to be telling him that it was permanent after all and…

Fragments of what Dietrich…Porthus – was everyone going by a pseudonym? (and no, Angel himself didn’t count, because…well because) – said before the pain shot through him like a stake came back to him:

I may not have her, but you won’t either. And you’ll never be a demon again.

…never be a demon again.

And now suddenly tonight was starting to make some sense.

But could he just ask why the heck every demon in town knew more about his curse than he did? Did the Kalderash send out a damn newsletter?

Speaking of Kalderash, he had a bone to pick with the junior member here. “You yelled ‘no’. When…”

“I know.” Janna cut him off, obviously not wanting to discuss the details of just how much more ‘them’ than ‘us’ she really was.

Tough. Because as of now he was officially sick of being the Kalderash whipping boy. His soul had done nothing to these people and he was tired of paying the toll for things he’d done when it wasn’t really him and…

Wow. This was new. Very, very new. He didn’t feel guilty. Not really. Hardly at all.

This was…neat. Who knew there was a difference between a temporary soul and a permanent one? Of course, he hadn’t known his used to be temporary in the first place and he really had nothing to compare it to seeing as how he hadn’t had a soul in centuries and when he was human he’d spent most of his time too inebriated to even spell the word ‘soul’. But setting aside the pointless existential musings, this was a very good thing.

He suddenly felt almost bad about the fact that Porthus, the demon inadvertently responsible for vastly improving the quality of Angel’s unlife, was nothing more than the memory of evaporating silver goo.

'Almost' being the operative word, because Porthus had tried to do unspeakable things to Willow and hadn’t actually meant to do Angel a good turn, so his being deceased wasn't such an unspeakable tragedy. And anyway, Xander was the one who’d done Porthus in, not Angel, so he had nothing to feel badly about, no matter what.

Again, however, his interior monologue had taken him right out of his surroundings, and he seemed to have missed a good portion of a rather heated conversation.

“…all the good that Angel’s done. Didn’t it occur to anyone after oh, say, a century, that since Angel didn’t even have his soul when he killed your princess, that maybe he’s suffered enough?” Willow’s colour was high; the look on her face would have cowed even Darla. Since Angel could not have agreed more – and would never concede that the look might have even worried his demon – he was glad he’d re-entered the theatre in time to see the best part of the show.

“As much as I think there’s something poetic about the idea of Angel suffering for all eternity, I’ve gotta say Willow might have a point.” That chill Angel suddenly felt must have been from Hell freezing over. Was Xander Harris taking his side? “Besides, the way you made Angel suffer made the rest of us suffer, too. All that brooding? It gets pretty annoying.” Thanks for that, Harris. Next time you get attacked…

“Yes, well… I…” Giles had walked away from Janna sometime during all of this and sat down in one of the few intact pews. “This has been quite a dramatic evening, hasn’t it?” His words were apropos of nothing, but both Willow and Xander were quiet now, gazing sympathetically at him. The man looked rather stricken and Angel felt almost sorry for him. Giles hadn’t exactly chosen the right woman to fall for, now had he?

Janna went and sat beside him. “I’m sorry, Rupert.”

“Yes, well…”

“I had no choice.”

“Of course, you did what you felt was right. One could hardly argue with that.” Giles’s words were of understanding, but that frosty and reserved British tone was as close to slapping the woman as Giles was ever going to get. Pity, because Angel would have liked to see an actual hand hitting her cheek.

How wonderful it was to think something like that without feeling paroxysms of crippling guilt.

But rather than being able to relax into the moment and enjoy the sensation of being petty with no strings attached…

“I hope you realize, dead guy, that this soul thing does not mean you get to put the moves on Willow again.”

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops. - Kurt Vonnegut

#6889

From: "newstkilly" <newstkilly@...>
Date: Tue Sep 15, 2009 10:23 am
Subject: Message Alert - You Have 1 Important Unread Message!

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Message Alert - You Have 1 Important Unread Message!
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#6888

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Mon Sep 14, 2009 6:07 pm
Subject: Fic: The Adventures Of...(Willow/Angel) 14/? PG-13/FRT-13

flamingointh...

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Title: The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Fourteen)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Angel

Rating: FRT-13/PG-13

Summary: *Set during the summer between Seasons One and Two of BTVS* While Buffy's in Los Angeles, summer in Sunnydale looks to be nothing but boring for Willow and Angel. But on the Hellmouth, you can never take anything for granted.

Warning: NONE

Word Count: 2261

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the super awesome Purplefeen. Thanks for helping me get fluffy. And extra special thanks to the incredible Kitty Poker who shepherded me through the beginnings of this last year. Words cannot express...

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is my first non-angst fic in quite awhile. I hope no one minds this departure from my norm.

The Adventures of Willow ‘Danger’ Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Fourteen)

Everything was happening all at once and Willow couldn’t make sense of any of it. It was like one of those nightmares she had where they gave all the final exams at the same time and she stood paralyzed in the hallway unable to tell which classroom she should go to first. Yeah, it was just like that.

Ms. Calendar had been untying her, but now she was shrieking at Dietrich…scratch that…Porthus, who must have done some kind of spell because Angel just collapsed to the floor and…oh look! Giles and Xander were here.

Willow used her one free hand to work frantically at the remaining knots; no one seemed to care about Angel, who wasn’t moving. Oh God! Was he okay? Why didn't he get up?

At that moment, Porthus made a break for it.

“Stop!” Giles yelled – rather more futilely than when Angel had yelled the same thing, Willow couldn’t help but notice. Keep working those knots, she chided herself. Because Angel was still just lying there – Ooh! Her other hand was free now – Ms. Calendar didn’t seem to be too useful and Giles just tackled Porthus – the resulting fight wasn’t very pretty, especially when Xander became involved. Ouch – that looked painful.

Was it just her, or did this kind of thing seem so much easier and less chaotic when Buffy was here?

The last of the knots finally gave way and Willow leapt off the table. “Angel!” She rushed to his side, kneeling down and checking his pulse. She couldn’t feel one. Panic welled up inside of her. The first boy…well man…well vampire who’d ever…Oh. She suddenly felt very relieved – and very stupid. Of course Angel had no pulse. He wasn’t alive, not even when he was walking and talking and…kissing. She’d known that already, right? Yes, she had.

Okay, it was kind of creepy to realize that her first kiss had been with a dead guy.

Remembering that Xander had almost had s-e-x with a giant insect put things in perspective, however, and she focused on trying to revive Angel. “Angel? Are you okay?” She lifted his head and stroked his cheek before turning an accusing eye on her computer teacher. The jumble that her mind had been was beginning to unjumble and she suddenly realized that Jenny Calendar had seemed to know what Porthus was saying and who it was directed at and that meant that she probably knew stuff that the rest of them should have known and…

Memories of what Dietrich – Porthus – had told her about right before she’d been drugged into a stupor came rushing back. Had that silver meanie done something to Angel’s soul?

The searing pain which had so recently wracked Angel’s body and mind had, blessedly, receded, and what was left in its wake was odd…with a dash of pleasant – which consisted of a soft hand caressing his cheek and a tender voice asking if he was okay. A vampire could get used to this. He’d worry about the ‘odd’ later. The present was…again…pleasant.

He opened his eyes and saw Willow gazing down at him. She was safe – untied and safe. He was glad of that (and no, he felt absolutely no resentment that he hadn’t been the one to free her from bondage…bondage…don’t go there – this was not the time or the place). But her rescue could come undone at any moment if he didn’t get up and join the fight.

Regretfully and as gently as possible, he pushed Willow away and rose to his feet.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, looking almost fearful. What was she afraid of? Him? That was a fine way to treat the savior who rushed to your rescue and… Better get his priorities straight. Extinction now, Willow later.

“I’m fine,” he said, perhaps more tersely than she deserved, but he was irritated by her sudden reserve, and no he was not going to think about why that was. He was going to finish what lesser men had started.

With that, he retrieved his dagger from the floor and rushed to where Porthus was wiping that same surface with Xander Harris. Giles was already a casualty, lying in a crumpled heap off to the side. Guess it wasn’t a fight if the man stayed conscious, Angel thought as he remembered concussions past. Luckily, Jenny was tending to him, so Angel decided to save any concern about the long term effects Giles might suffer from so much head trauma for later. Right now, he had a Porthus to destroy.

Grabbing the scrawny but surprisingly strong creature from his position atop Xander, he whirled him around. “Guess your magic’s not as powerful as you thought, huh? Because I’m still here.” And with a dramatic flourish, he plunged the dagger into Porthus’s chest.

That’d teach the Nino Cerruti-wearing bastard who the real killer was.

So why wasn’t Porthus dying?

Oh shit. This could be – scratch that, this was – a very big problem.

Willow had been about to breathe a big ol’ sigh of relief after watching Angel stab Porthus, but she stopped on the inhale. What was going on? Wasn’t he supposed to be a big puddle of extinct-demon-goo right about now? What was going on? And had she just thought that twice? Oh no.

Porthus just smiled. It wasn’t a good look on him. If he had any friends, one of them really ought to have steered him towards a dentist…or at least a toothbrush. “You can’t kill me. I’m a true immortal and a true demon…unlike you.” He chuckled in a way that reminded Willow disturbingly of The Hooded Claw. Should she yell ‘hay-ulp’ or something? Probably not. Penelope Pitstop was blonde…like Buffy.

Who never needed to yell for help and would probably think of some super cool way to kill Porthus except that she wasn’t here and had never even heard of Porthus and…

“Oh yeah? Let’s just test that, shall we?” Oh no. Xander, please don’t. Just because Willow was mad at him and had barred him from her home, that didn’t mean she wanted him to die.

There was nothing she could do, though, because Xander yanked Porthus away from Angel, reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out…

No! Nooo!

Angel had been about to come up with a Plan B – a truly inspired and elegantly fatal Plan B – a Plan B for the ages – when he was stopped short by the greatest display of stupidity in the history of mankind. What was Xander thinking? Okay, stupid question, because Xander didn’t have the capacity for thought, but still…What the hell was Xander thinking?

Porthus was now face-to-face with the boy and Angel could almost see him shake with mirth at Xander’s challenge. “What can you do, pathetic mortal?” Angel hated to take the creep’s side on anything, but his question had a lot of merit. Frankly, he couldn’t see any answer to it. But one would be welcome if it stopped that sickening chuckle. Porthus was one irritating demon, the kind of demon who usually brought out the homicidal in…

Buffy. Who wasn’t here. Who he should be missing sorely right now. Who he wasn’t missing at all. Of course, he stopped worrying about that when Porthus moved and he got a look at what was in Xander’s hand.

“Xander,” he cried out, trying to warn the boy. Sure, he hated the moron and had fantasized about him meeting his demise, but that was fantasy – not like the fantasy he had not actually had about being locked in the book cage at the library with Willow overnight, but…focus Angel. Because Xander obviously had no idea that the thing in his hand wasn’t a weapon, but actually a…

Half-eaten chocolate bar.

Just as Xander was thrusting his hand towards the demon, though, he got a look at what was actually in it. The look of horror and regret on his face would have been hilarious under other circumstances. Not now. Still, the boy followed through, and Angel had to (sort of) admire that. It spurred him to render some aid.

He grabbed for the demon, hoping he wasn’t too late.

Willow covered her eyes, certain that her best friend, the second-to-last of the Three Musketeers, was about to be done in by the mistaken wielding of a candy bar bearing that very name (the colours of the candy wrapper were unmistakable) – too bad she’d never be able to use this to illustrate what irony was to Xander. Could Angel save him, would Angel save him? Sure, they’d seemed to bond over trying to ruin her life, but they’d come here separately and Angel had practically laughed at Xander, who was now going to die before Willow could forgive him and…

Terrible, ear-splitting screams rang out and Willow began to weep. She was now the very last of the Three Musketeers. But just as she was apologizing to the ghost of Jesse for not doing a better job of protecting their friend, she realized that no one else – not Giles, not Jenny Calendar, was crying out. And those screams had sounded nothing like Xander’s. Cautiously, one finger at a time, she uncovered her eyes.

There, on the floor a few yards away was…

A puddle of steaming, silver goo.

Huh? How had that happened? Had Angel…?

One look at the dumbfounded expression on Angel’s face told her no. Xander’s arm was still outstretched, still clutching a last hunk of candy. “What…?” he said, obviously as shocked as everyone else by what had just transpired.

Willow stared again as the steam over the goo slowly dissipated and she watched with a complete lack of reverence or grief as the last survivor of a species dissolved into nothingness. This wasn’t anything like the death of the last Passenger Pigeon. It was more like the disappearance of the last cheerleader – a consummation devoutly to be wished.

“You killed him,” Jenny Calendar breathed, in a tone not unlike that of the Winkie guard after Dorothy killed the Wicked Witch.

“Yes, excellent.” Giles sounded super groggy and Willow wasn’t sure he had any idea what had just happened.

The funny thing was…none of them had any better idea of just what had happened than Giles did.

“He’s dead?” Xander said, staring at the place where the goo had been. “But how…?”

Angel groaned as he stared at the last traces of Dietrich/Porthus/whatever the hell he was evaporating on the floor. This couldn’t have happened the way it did, could it? His faculties had to have been affected by that spell. Because there was no way in hell that Xander Harris, the most useless sidekick ever, had just killed a seemingly invincible demon – a demon who had cowed generations of demon hunters, Watchers, and even other demons – with…a chocolate bar?

A soft hissing sound as Porthus became nothingness was all that broke the stillness. Angel distracted himself by looking around for a cross; that had to be a less troubling vision than what had just transpired. Not that he wasn’t happy Porthus was dead…and no, he wasn’t upset at being upstaged (okay, maybe just a little). Strangely, this being a church, he didn’t see a single cross. Guess there was a reason this was a desirable location for a demon to do a ritual.

“Does anyone have a theory about why Porthus went poof?” Willow asked, turning everyone’s attention to Giles. Loath as he was to admit it, even Angel wanted to know the answer to this one, and who else but Giles would have a theory about this bizarre serendipity.

After a moment, and while leaning rather unnecessarily on Jenny Calendar – what a ploy, Giles was completely conscious now – the man did not disappoint. “Well…I…with what I was able to observe…and admittedly that was rather limited…and lacking any hard data about Porthus’s biological makeup…”

“Is there any way we could get the Cliff Notes?” Xander asked. “Because I’m the big hero tonight and I’d really like to know how I did it for when I brag about this over the next, oh, fifty years or so.”

Angel ground his teeth in irritation. Next time, he really thought it would behoove Fate to allow him to save the day. Xander was a very sore winner.

“Well,” Giles hemmed and hawed a bit before getting back to the theory, “I should say it’s…love.”

Huh?

No one said it aloud, but everyone was thinking it, and somehow Giles knew. “Chocolate, as we’re all aware, is chemically identical to love.”

“Oh yeah. I knew that,” Xander responded, proving conclusively that he had not known at all until just this moment.

Giles was obviously sufficiently well-inclined towards the boy to continue without comment. “Porthus, being a creature so evil that he could use the power possessed by another to turn that person into a demon against their will, might well be said to be entirely incapable of such a pure and selfless emotion as love and therefore, when it is forced into him, even in a purely chemical form, such as chocolate, he is…”

“Toast,” Willow said cheerily.

“Yes, quite. Of course this is only a theory, but…”

“It works for me,” Xander said. “It’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

Angel fought the urge to groan. Harris would stick to that story all right…and tell it…over and over and over and over.

One person, however, seemed to have already moved on.

“Um, not to rain on anybody’s parade or anything,” Willow said apologetically, “But shouldn’t we also try to figure out what was up with that spell Porthus did on Angel?”

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops. - Kurt Vonnegut

#6887

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Fri Sep 11, 2009 5:33 pm
Subject: Fic: The Adventures Of...(Willow/Angel) 13/? FRT-13/PG-13

flamingointh...

Offline

Title: The Adventures of Willow 'Danger' Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Thirteen)

Author: Gabrielle

Pairing: Willow/Angel

Rating: FRT-13/PG-13 (at least for now)

Summary: *Set during the summer between Seasons One and Two of BTVS* While Buffy's in Los Angeles, summer in Sunnydale looks to be nothing but boring for Willow and Angel. But on the Hellmouth, you can never take anything for granted.

Warning: NONE

Word Count: 2369

The Blue Pencil Crew: The absolutely stupendous Lilbreck and the super awesome Purplefeen. Thanks for helping me get fluffy. And extra special thanks to the incredible Kitty Poker who shepherded me through the beginnings of this last year. Words cannot express...

Feedback: Please.

Distribution: My LJ, my IJ, and my site only.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.

Author's Notes: This is my first non-angst fic in quite awhile. I hope no one minds this departure from my norm.

The Adventures of Willow ‘Danger’ Rosenberg and Angel the Souled Vampire (Chapter Thirteen)

The first thing Willow noticed when she came to was that she had an absolutely horrible headache. The second thing she noticed was that she was fully clothed. That second one was definitely something to be happy about, and she would have been if not for the third thing she noticed: She was tied to some sort of table – completely immobilized, in fact.

This was so not good.

Closing her eyes, she fought back the tears that threatened to fall. How could she have been so stupid? She’s the best friend of the Slayer, yet she’s such a moron that she just goes ahead and gulps down some drink bought for her by some random demon hunter guy…in a demon bar, no less. No wonder she’d wound up in this mess. Angel had been right all along. This was a job for super-powered people, not for computer geeks with delusions of grandeur. If she got out of this alive, she was changing her middle name back to Danielle. No more ‘Danger’ (or danger) for Willow Rosenberg.

“You’re awake.” Dietrich’s voice broke through the myriad of prayers she was silently voicing to just about every god of every religion she’d ever heard of, including a few she was pretty sure had died out long before the invention of the wheel.

When she opened her eyes, however, it wasn’t Dietrich’s face she saw gazing down at her. “Augh!” She closed her eyes again. Red eyes? Check. Silver skin? Check. Oh god…Dietrich wasn’t Dietrich at all. He was Porthus and he must have kidnapped her to try and lure Buffy, just as they’d feared.

Willow was pretty sure that when Sunnydale crowned its next Village Idiot, the name on the dunce cap was going to be Willow Danielle (formerly ‘Danger’) Rosenberg.

Willie’s news made the pig’s blood in Angel’s veins run cold. “What do you mean he carried her out of here?” If only he hadn’t been such an idiot. If only he hadn’t been so stubbornly wedded to the idea that Porthus was looking for Buffy, if only…

Jenny didn’t look as if she was any less shaken than Angel was. “Oh God. If only I’d figured this out sooner, if only I…”

“We don’t have time for this,” Angel snapped, uncomfortably aware that her bout of self-blame was a disturbing mirror image of his own, and that, while his was internal this time, he often indulged out loud. Was it as irritating from him as it was from her? No, it couldn’t be. Again, it was all about delivery. Angel was smooth and polished and darkly mysterious – that had to make a huge difference.

Now was not the time, though, to be worrying about whether or not he was more pleasant company than Jenny Calendar (besides, he was absolutely certain that he was…well, almost absolutely certain, anyway). No, now it was all about saving Willow from that shriveled silver creep. He should have known something was up the minute he saw that guy at the Bronze – only a demon as ugly as Porthus would think Nino Cerruti was fit to wear in public.

Thoughts of what Porthus might be doing to her right now flashed through his mind and he tamped them down. “You let him just carry her off?” Angel asked Willie, his voice redolent with the ghosts of men he’d tortured or roasted alive – well, not him exactly, but…oh never mind the buck-passing. Him, okay? Him, him, him.

“Hey, I tried to call you. Believe me, this guy was gonna get out of here with your girlfriend no matter what I did. Figured it was better if I lived to tell you about it.”

Upon hearing the word ‘girlfriend’, Jenny fixed him with the coldest glare she’d turned on him yet. Once this was over, Angel was going to have serious talk with the woman, but for now… “Do you have any idea where he was taking her?”

Willow did her best to get her impending hysterics under control before opening her eyes again. “D-Dietrich?” she asked.

A shriveled and shiny silver hand reached out to stroke her cheek. She couldn’t help flinching slightly. He was slightly less repulsive than Moloch, but that was like saying that Harmony was less of a heinous bitch than Cordelia. It still didn’t make either one of them people she wanted to hang out with. “You may call me that if you like, but my name is…”

“Porthus, yeah. I kinda figured that out, actually.”

He chuckled. It was surreal hearing Dietrich’s voice come out of that twisted little mouth. And then there were those red, glowing eyes. Yikes.

Of course, the sort of consolation – she guessed – was that Porthus…Dietrich…whatever his name was wasn’t actually interested in her at all. Hopefully, he’d already contacted Giles who would get Buffy who would then come in and kick this guy’s silver ass. It would serve him right.

Of course, what she heard next threw her into a state of total confusion.

“You’ll make such a lovely demon,” Porthus crooned.

“W-w-what?” He stroked her face again, but this time, she was numb from shock and didn’t recoil. What the heck did he mean? Did he think she was the Slayer? Oh no.

This was very, very bad.

Angel did his best not to reach across the bar and throttle Willie. Willow could have suffered who knows what at the hands of Porthus and all this weasel could do was hem and haw. Still, a dead Willie would be no help at all, so instead, he repeated his question. “Do you know where he took her?” He allowed his true face to emerge for a moment. Consider it a visual aid...and a promise of torture and slow death should Willie's hesitation mean that they were too late to save Willow.

“I dunno, I…”

“Please, Willie. Her life is at stake,” Jenny pleaded. Oh great. Good cop, bad cop. Like that wasn’t the most clichéd routine of all time.

Of course, maybe it was such a cliché because it worked. “I…uh…I think I mighta heard him talkin’ to some guy about this abandoned church near here. Somethin’ about it bein’ good for some ritual or somethin’.”

He completely ignored Jenny’s smug expression. What did it matter whose tactics had worked? Because this was great news. Angel knew exactly the place Willie was talking about. Being a vampire, and as such someone with a vested interest in keeping abreast of the location of large crosses, had some real advantages.

Hold on, Willow. Angel to the rescue!

“I’m…I’m not the Slayer,” Willow choked out through a surprisingly solid lump of fear in her throat. Another science fair idea came to mind, but she didn’t bother with it. Chances were less than good that she’d live to participate anyway. “Honest, I’m not.”

Dietrich looked at her as if she had sprouted an extra head. It might have occurred to Willow that he had a lot of nerve, given his own appearance, but she was too busy being terrified to notice. “I didn’t think you were,” he said, after a moment.

Huh? But then… “Why are you…why am I…?”

He smiled down at her…at least she guessed it was a smile, his mouth wasn’t so easy to read. “You don’t know, do you? You have no idea.”

Okay, the cryptic thing? It was way past irritating now and straight into infuriating. Unless it was Angel doing the cryptic thing. In fact, right now, she’d be thrilled to have him here…at his most cryptic and broody and bossy and… Focus, Willow. Because it was really a bad time to moon over the guy who gave you your first kiss in a futile attempt to save you from the fate you stupidly blundered into anyway.

“What do you mean?” she asked, glad that a few seconds musing had been enough time to get her annoyance under control. Let’s not piss off the guy who has you immobilized.

“Power. All that power. The way it swirls within you, just waiting to be unleashed.”

Again - huh? Power? Her? Since when? Sure, she’d looked up some of the sites she’d kind of accidentally found out that Jenny Calendar visited while she was looking for something completely different on the school’s computer system (and it was so an accident), but she’d been too scared to try any of the spells. Oh how she wished she’d been too scared to do so many other things – like visit Willie’s. “I…I think you made a mistake,” she said hesitantly, eager not to offend but even more eager to talk him into letting her go. Especially since she could see him mixing up a really creepy looking potion on a table right next to the one to which she was currently tied.

“No, my sweet,” he said with a grin that displayed a row of black, uneven teeth, “I’m not mistaken. You’re a well of untapped power. All the better really. The greater the reservoir from which to draw, the more likely the spell is to succeed.”

The spell?

He seemed to know her question even though she was pretty sure she hadn’t asked it aloud. “The spell to make you my mate, to make you one of my kind.”

“Oh, that spell,” she said, torn between shock and hysteria even as she tried to keep her voice calm and cheerful. “Don’t you think that maybe we ought to date first? See if we’re compatible? I mean, hey, for all you know, I’m not really the eternal mate type. I can’t even cook. By the way, are you Jewish? Because my parents…”

Dietrich’s laughter interrupted her. It looked like logic was not going to work.

This was very, very, very bad.

Angel had wanted to take the tunnels; Jenny had wanted to drive. So they split the difference, which was how Angel came to be speeding along the streets of Sunnydale behind the wheel of Jenny Calendar’s car.

“Angel, that was a red light you just ran,” Jenny yelled as they narrowly missed being broadsided by a pickup.

“Your point?” Angel snapped. “We don’t have time for stupid traffic rules. In case you’ve forgotten, Willow’s at the mercy of a soulless demon right now.”

That shut her up. Her expression turned thoughtful and almost soft. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

Oh great. Just what he needed to think about right now. This would be so much easier if Buffy was sitting next to him instead in one of her skimpy tank-tops and belt-like miniskirts. He’d have a much easier time knowing his priorities.

Of course, he hadn’t seen Willow’s throat back when Buffy had been the one by his side, hadn’t tasted Willow’s lips, or felt her hands on…Focus, Angel. Now was not the time to think of breathy little moans or the curve of her… “Yes, I care about her. She’s my friend.”

“It’s more than that.” She paused and Angel was about to argue, but then she said, “When this is over, we need to talk. I…”

Suddenly, Angel brought the car to a screeching halt. The church! They were here. “Look, we don’t have time for this. You can wait out here or you can come in and try to stay out of the way. It’s up to you. Right now, all I give a damn about is saving Willow. Your issues don’t mean a thing to me.”

With that, he sprinted towards the door of the church. He could hear the sound of Jenny’s heels clicking on the asphalt behind him as she struggled to catch up.

Why did women always wear ridiculous shoes when they knew they’d have to run? Sheesh. Well, he wasn’t waiting, so she could take care of herself.

With that, he burst into the church, ran inside and…

There was Willow, strapped to a table, and that scrawny, dried-up, silver scumbag was chanting as he held up a glass of…something.

“Stop!” Angel cried.

Okay, it wasn’t eloquent or anything, but it worked. Porthus stopped chanting and hissed something Angel was pretty sure was obscene even if it was in a language he’d never heard before.

Jenny’s voice rang out from behind him as he slowly approached the site of what he supposed was a ritual. “Willow, are you okay?”

“Kind of,” she said. “I mean, I guess so.” She was something else, even when she was frightened. Plucky and brave and…adorable. Things had officially and undeniably become impossibly complicated. “Thanks for finding me.” She had twisted her head in what looked like a very painful way to look straight at Angel.

Porthus seemed to find her distracting as well. It was a good thing, too, because Angel pulled himself together and made a mad dash towards the onetime Eurotrash roué, tackling him and…

With a crash, the glass he was holding fell to the stone floor, shattering as its contents spilled everywhere. “Angelussss,” he hissed furiously, his eyes glowing madly. Oh well, it was too late. Jenny was already working the knots that bound Willow to the table.

“Spare me the ‘curses, foiled again’ routine,” Angel said as he got to his feet and dusted himself off before grabbing Porthus by what he assumed was the scruff of his neck and yanking him up as well. “It’s been done to death. Which reminds me…”

He pulled a knife out from the sheath on his belt and was about to try beheading the nasty, little creep, when Porthus spoke, stopping him cold. “I told her, you know. Told her what you wanted from her…how you wanted to use her to become a demon again, to rid yourself of that foul humanity.”

What? What was he talking about?

Unfortunately, Angel’s confusion was just enough to give Porthus a chance to break away and…

“I may not have her, but you won’t either. And you’ll never be a demon again.” The next words he spoke were foreign to Angel, but someone recognized them.

“No!” Jenny screamed. “No!”

At that moment a pain that seemed almost familiar ripped through Angel.

This was it. He was never, ever getting anywhere near any Gypsy ever again.

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops. - Kurt Vonnegut