AnythingWillowFanfic : Messages : 6910-6921 of 6921

Increase Your Height 2-3 Inches

How a New Discovery Made A Short Man 2-3 Inches Taller In 6 Weeks
I Discovered the Secret to Add Several Inches of Solid Height to Anyone,
No Matter What Your Age Is... Even If You Haven't Grown in Years!

Click here : http://easylnk.com/?15376

#6920

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Mon Nov 30, 2009 6:27 pm
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) 13/? FRAO/NC-17

flamingointh...

Offline

Title: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Thirteen)

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: 2882

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 Thirteen)

It had been hours since Xander and Anya had left the hotel and Willow was still in her room. What with all the time that had passed and Willow’s unsettled emotional state even prior to the meeting, Angel was beginning to worry.

Well, to be entirely honest, Angel had been anxious since the moment he’d seen Willow’s tearful retreat to her room and heard the doors to the hotel close behind her departing friends. Still and all, he’d decided she ought to have some privacy to deal with the feelings she must be going through, so he’d given it to her.

He had expected, however, that she would come out of her room before now. Since she hadn’t, there was nothing he could do but knock on her door and see for himself what sort of condition she was in. Patience was no longer in his possession.

“Willow?” He tried to keep from sounding too concerned.

A voice thick with spent tears responded. “Come in.”

So he did.

She looked worse than he’d ever seen her – eyes red-rimmed and swollen, her skin blotchy and shiny with tear stains. “I lied to them. Xander and Anya. I lied to them.” Angel closed the door behind him as she spoke. She might have been talking to him or to no one at all.

There didn’t seem to be a good response either, if she expected one, which he was hardly sure she did. He could say she had no choice, but that wouldn’t exactly be the truth. He could tell her she’d done what needed to be done, but while that would describe his actions, he could not honestly say it described hers, no matter how fondly he might wish it did.

All he could do was wait and see what she’d say next.

“Xander’s my best friend.” Even as she said it, Willow wasn’t at all sure that she wasn’t still lying. Best friends didn’t lie to each other, did they? Although Xander had lied to her lots of times in the past, so maybe they did. Maybe a morning of prevarication hadn’t set a match to the bridge back to her life after all.

Angel stayed silent.

On the one hand, Willow sort of appreciated the fact that he wasn’t offering platitudes or peppering her with questions, but on the other hand…

Long ago, with Oz, she hadn’t minded the quiet moments, but now? Now silence was silence and it left her with too much confusion.

“I pretty much made it impossible to ever tell them the truth,” she offered. It was more than she’d meant to reveal, but she was too discomfitted by Angel’s taciturn manner to be discreet.

What she wanted him to say to that, Angel didn’t know, but the time had come for him to say something, even if it was the wrong thing. “You couldn’t have told them anyway. They’re wedded to the addiction idea.”

She was staring at him now, though her eyes were too puffy from crying to go wide as they were wont to do. “I know.” The words were said softly, but they were a shock and the impact was great. “But it doesn’t make me feel any better about lying.”

It was strange, but what she’d just said brought her more sharply into focus than ever for him. He saw the pieces of who she was years ago and the changes she’d undergone and it all blended together into the whole of who she was today. Something told him he’d seen this before; he just hadn’t realized it until this moment.

Now he knew why he hadn’t fallen in love with her years ago. Now he knew why he loved her today.

Amazing how much more beautiful glass could be once it had shattered, how much more alluring damage was than pristine perfection.

“It never feels good to lie,” he said at last. Of course, he wasn’t altogether sure he wasn’t lying when he said that. It wasn’t as if lying to Buffy had felt wrong at all. What felt wrong was that it should have.

None of the books Willow had ever encountered were as hard to read as Angel was; she decided to stop trying, to just take him at his word. After all, it was entirely possible that she was trying too hard to see things that weren’t there. While he might be a demon, he wasn’t Spike.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? At least for her.

But for all that, it still felt good when he sat down beside her and put his arm around her.

“What did they say?” Angel asked after a moment or two. He could hardly help being curious, could he?

“Anya’s sad that I can’t be in the wedding.” The wistful smile on Willow’s face when she spoke… he found himself almost liking Xander’s fiancée.

“I’m sorry.” He supposed he was, in a way.

She shrugged but said nothing. She was desperately uncomfortable now. More conversation on this topic would lead them straight into the minefield of why she was here – and it wasn’t anything she wanted to admit out loud, not in so many words. What was she supposed to say: ‘I love Spike so much that I am staying here and lying to all my friends just so he can have a chance with you even though you want me’?

A minute or so passed and Angel said, “I’m glad you’re staying.” If only he were simply being kind.

The emotional rollercoaster she’d been on today finally caught up with her. Without thinking about the fact that what she was doing might encourage his feelings for her, she laid her head on his shoulder. “I know.”

“Why should we tell her anything?”

That was probably a good question, and Xander really had no answer except maybe for ‘because’, which wasn’t really an answer, but he still felt that Tara needed to know about their visit to Willow, even if he wasn’t sure why. “I just think she deserves to know.”

Anya said nothing else as they reached the door of the Magic Box, but her mouth was in a tight pout and Xander knew that never boded well. He had a feeling he was in for it later. So be it, he decided. Tara would hear about what was going on with Willow.

He held the door open for Anya, then followed her in. Tara was standing behind the counter. “Y-you’re b-back already?” She seemed puzzled and Xander understood that. They hadn’t been gone nearly as long as they – or the others – had figured they would be.

“Is Buffy here?” Might as well get this over with. And hey, there was no way Anya would break off their engagement – they’d already put down deposits on the reception hall and the caterer.

“No.” Tara was nervous. What was going on? Why had they come back so soon? And why did Xander seem so anxious about Buffy?

Anya immediately jumped in, having come to the conclusion that it was her duty as an almost-wife to support her almost-husband, even if he was making a stupid mistake. “We weren’t in San Francisco. We went to see Willow.”

The ground gave way beneath Tara’s feet and she closed her eyes tight; she felt the world whiz by as she fell, only realizing it was a trick of emotion when she didn’t crash hard into the earth. She opened her eyes – the counter was in front of her and Xander and Anya just beyond. “H-how is…”

“How is she?” Anya finished for her. “Well, she’s still a junkie, apparently, and she doesn’t look very good. And she won’t be in the wedding.” There was more Anya wanted to say, but it was all such a complicated mess in her head. She hated Tara right now, for not being a good enough girlfriend to keep this from happening to Willow, but she hated herself, too – because she’d been wrong and Angel hadn’t been lying and she’d gotten Xander’s hopes up for nothing. Plus, she felt sad about what Willow was going through.

She’d forgotten the bad part about having friends; that it could hurt and be awful. At times like this, she remembered why she’d been so eager to become a demon.

Then Xander put his arm around her and it wasn’t quite so terrible being human after all – until she thought about Willow again.

Tara just stood where she was, trying to make sense of what she was feeling. It wasn’t as if Xander and Anya were telling her anything she hadn’t known, after all, so why did she feel even worse now than she had when Buffy had first broken the bad news?

It was guilt, she realized. Xander and Anya had gone to Los Angeles to see Willow themselves and Tara hadn’t. There were reasons for that – like the problems in their relationship, her belief that they both needed space, the fact that she still used magic and was worried that Willow would feel it and it would affect her recovery – but no matter how good the reasons were, it didn’t change the fact that she felt as if she’d failed the girl she loved. “S-she’s doing that badly?” she asked at last.

“I… Yeah, she is,” Xander replied, trying to soften the blow with a gentler tone than that used by his fiancée. “We were really hoping Deadboy had been exaggerating…”

“But he wasn’t.” The look in Tara’s eyes made Xander question his wisdom in deciding to tell her.

“No, but at least Spike is taking care of her,” Anya interjected, wondering if she meant to reassure Tara or make her feel worse by saying that.

“S-Spike?” Tara remembered Dawn mentioning that very thing. It was becoming unnerving all over again.

“It’s kind of bizarre, actually, but he seems to be doing a good job of watching over her.” Xander hoped his words would make Tara feel better, but she still looked stricken. “She knows you love her.” That last was said softly, the better to fake sincerity. The truth was, he had been so caught up in his own concerns with Willow that he hadn’t even mentioned Tara today. Oddly, he just now realized that Willow hadn’t asked about her either.

Was it just him or was Willow’s relationship with Spike suddenly taking on a whole other – and much more disturbing – connotation?

‘Boyfriend’, ‘taking care of her’, ‘a good job of watching over her’ – all of those words were swirling through Tara’s mind, reviving the fears she’d pushed down when she’d talked to Dawn. She came to a decision. Willow was in a weakened, desperate state and Spike was a demon – a soulless one at that. How could anyone believe he was altruistically tending to Willow? For all she knew, Spike was doing something to hinder Willow’s recovery. If for no other reason than to save her girl from being preyed upon when she was vulnerable, it was time for Tara to go to Los Angeles. She’d deal with all the other issues when she got there.

“Since you g-guys are back, is it okay if I go home now?” Xander’s answer in the affirmative was all the impetus she needed to gather her things and head out the door. She was too overwrought to leave right now, and besides, she needed to arrange for a rental car, but tomorrow morning, Angel Investigations was going to have another surprise visitor.

Xander watched as Tara left. “That went well.”

“She didn’t even thank us for checking on Willow or anything,” Anya huffed.

Xander said nothing at first, just pulling Anya close and kissing the top of her head. They were lucky, so much luckier than he’d ever realized before. “She doesn’t really have anything to thank us for.”

Anya didn’t argue; she just stayed nestled in the crook of Xander’s arm. It was good to have a boyfriend who was a plain, ordinary human. She was very lucky.

Angel had gone off to tend to Connor and the business and Willow had lain on her bed for what felt like days, staring at the ceiling and trying not to cry anymore, when a knock at the door roused her from her miserable reverie. “Spike?”

“No,” came a decidedly feminine drawl, “It’s Fred.”

Fred? “Come in.” Willow got off the bed as her visitor entered. What could the girl want?

“Hi,” Fred greeted Willow as she entered the room. Funny how after all this time, she still felt so awkward talking to her. She sure hoped her plan would help fix that – and not just for her, but for everyone. “I was going shopping for the surprise party and I thought you might wanna come along and help.”

“Surprise party?” Willow was staring at her in confusion. Hadn’t Angel told her?

“Yeah. The surprise party for Cordelia’s birthday.” Fred felt terrible. Willow obviously didn’t know anything about it. She’d been here for weeks and yet she was still an outsider. That didn’t make a whole lot of sense, seeing as how they all owed her their lives. Heck, Gunn still talked about it; Fred had almost been sort of jealous about that. Guess there was no reason to be since it looked like he hadn’t made any effort to be Willow’s friend or anything. None of them had, she realized, not even when Willow was helping them on cases. “It was kind of a last minute idea,” she offered as a clumsy, afterthought type of alibi. “But when we realized she was turning twenty-one…”

Twenty-one? If memory served, Cordelia had turned twenty-one last year, but Willow could have been wrong, and at any rate, it was pretty nice to be included. This might give her a chance to patch things up with her old nemesis. After all, how long could she be bitter about the fluke? She gave Fred the broadest grin she could muster. “It sounds like a great idea. I’d love to go party supply-shopping with you. Let me just go wash my face, okay?”

“Sure.” Fred sat down in the uncomfortable chair by the dresser and waited. Willow had seemed real excited about helping with the party and that made her happy. After all, it didn’t seem like Willow was going to be leaving anytime soon, so wouldn’t it be better if they could all be friends? It sure seemed that way to Fred. With any luck, Cordelia’s party would be a great chance for Willow to find her way into the group.

“Ready,” Willow caroled as she came out of the bathroom and grabbed her purse. “So, where are we headed to first?”

The daylight still surrounded the building like prison bars, trapping Spike within the decayed walls of the hotel. Bloody hell.

He’d gotten himself into one blasted mess, hadn’t he? Should have known it would happen, though. When was the last time a plan of his had worked? Especially when he brought the little witch into things.

It’d be nice if he could hate her, but really, how could you? She was innocent as snow if intent counted for anything, and Spike supposed it did. If only the silly chit hadn’t fallen for him. But then again, if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t be doing her best to play matchmaker for him and Peaches, now would she?

The kind of love Red was capable of feeling… it was something else.

But oddly, for the first time, Spike thought about the curse, really thought about it, and he wondered. He knew there was no way in creation that Willow would do a thing to jeopardize Angel’s soul, so why was she so willing to fix him up with the Poof? She knew damn good and well that Spike was not one for stopping at slap and tickle.

Was it because she didn’t think Spike had the goods to make Angel perfectly happy? No, couldn’t be that. Girl was in love with him, now wasn’t she? Stood to reason that she thought he was more than enough to make someone happy. So why wasn’t she concerned?

It occurred to him that all he knew about the curse, really, had come from Angel (well, there’d been Dru’s cryptic nonsense, but it wasn’t like he understood a word of that). But just because Angel was the one who’d been cursed, that didn’t make him an expert on the ins and outs of it. No, that honour had to go to a certain little witch – the witch who’d performed that very curse herself.

There had to be more to the curse than just a moment of happiness detaching that soul and sending it flying off hell knew where. Sometime very soon, he and Red were going to have a little chat about Gypsy magic.

Now Spike found that he was actually grateful for the daylight that had forced him to stay right here for that thinking he’d been so keen to do. Because here was where the answers had been all along – the answers that would help him formulate a new, better plan. And this time, the plan would work just the way it should. Count on that.

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

#6919

From: "newstkilly" <newstkilly@...>
Date: Mon Nov 30, 2009 5:19 pm
Subject: i found a very interesting Movie!

newstkilly

Offline

haha! I i found a very interesting movie today, so I wanna share it with you. 
You can watch online here:

http://woomovie.zoomshare.com/files/OnlineMovie.htm

#6918

From: Gabrielle <g_leider@...>
Date: Fri Nov 27, 2009 5:23 pm
Subject: Fic: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Willow/Spike/Angel) 12/? FRAO/NC-17

flamingointh...

Offline

Title: Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Twelve)

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: 3256

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 Twelve)

Willow’s dreams had been chaotic and she woke up almost more worn out and in need of sleep than she had been when she went to bed. But there was nothing to be done about it, so at last she dragged herself from between the sheets and tried to pull herself together as best she could.

After a quick shower and the rest of her morning ablutions, Willow decided to see if Angel was about. While she was a bit nervous about going to his room again – not being ready for a possible repeat of last night’s encounter – there were thing she needed to discuss with him. Well, one thing, really – how was she going to cover her absence much longer?

Sure, while she’d been nervously waiting for the withdrawal to hit, convinced she was a hopeless junkie, she hadn’t really thought about how long she was staying away. But now? Yeah, now she realized she’d been here for weeks and other than one talk with Xander… They had to be wondering about her – missing her – didn’t they? They’d call; she was sure of it. When they did, she needed to have gotten her story straight with Angel.

She headed down to the lobby and was glad to see Angel there, with Connor. And hey, they were alone. That was a plus. “Hi.”

Taking in Willow’s haggard appearance, Angel knew she hadn’t gotten much rest. Neither had he, but he didn’t need it nearly as much as she did. Still, while he was sure his actions last night played a part in her wakefulness, he didn’t feel badly about it. He’d held her – kissed her. That wasn’t something he would ever regret. “Good morning.” He watched as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, clearly nervous. He wondered why. “Are you all right?”

“Me? I’m…”

Just then, a certain necessity made itself known.”He needs changing,” Angel interrupted, indicating the baby in his arms. “Want to come with me?” He didn’t wait for her answer before turning and heading back to the nursery. She wasn’t the type to let a conversation end before it started.

Willow shrugged and followed Angel’s retreating form. What else could she do? For reasons she couldn’t fathom, she had a feeling that the subject of dealing with her friends was one that needed to be discussed sooner rather than later, and that ‘sooner’ meant ‘as soon as possible.’

In the nursery, though, she found she couldn’t speak. She was transfixed by watching Angel tend to his son. It was incongruous, how normal and human he seemed and it was touching as well, seeing how very much he loved the little boy. For the first time, she wondered how Buffy would feel when she learned about Connor – if she learned about Connor. Angel never spoke of telling her and it certainly wasn’t up to Willow to reveal his son’s existence to Buffy or anyone else. But speaking of her friends…

“Angel?” she said tentatively once Connor’s diaper was changed, “What do you think I should say…you know…about why I’m staying here so long?”

Of all the subjects she could have wanted to discuss with him… He’d thought he’d dodged this bullet when she had decided to stay. He paused, wondering how he was going to finesse his way out of trouble, when Willow’s reason for staying – painful as it was – came back to him, and with it, the realization that it afforded him the ability to be at least somewhat honest. “I already took care of that.”

He watched her face, finding something adorable in the confused expression she now wore. For all that she had grown into a beautiful, powerful woman, he was glad she still carried within her some of the girl she’d once been.

“How?” she asked after a few seconds passed.

What should he say to that? More truth, he supposed. “Buffy called several days ago. I told her… I told her you were still in bad shape.”

Willow could hardly believe her ears. Buffy had called? Why hadn’t Angel told her? Why, instead, had he lied to Buffy and said… “You told her what?” Just because what he said was probably a godsend now, that didn’t mean she was okay with Angel lying, both to Buffy and to her. Alright, no, he hadn’t actually told Willow a lie, but he’d lied by omission by not telling her that Buffy had called. That was deceptive and she was counting it as a lie. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you needed more time.” He sounded utterly sincere; he looked utterly sincere. “After all, you were still worried about withdrawal. We hadn’t even heard from Wesley’s contact yet. I didn’t want them talking you into going back before you were ready.” Nothing in Angel’s tone or expression gave the lie to his words. Willow decided to take them at face value.

Besides, she was staying here anyway. It would be easier to just accept what he told her, especially since it had turned out to be quite expedient. She pushed aside the pang she felt at knowing Buffy had called and she hadn’t gotten to speak to her. Getting used to missing her friends was part of the package and had been from the beginning, and now…she owed it to Spike to remain stalwart.

“Okay,” she said, her own unexpectedly brief response suddenly reminding her of Oz – and how strange was it to think of him now?

It seemed to Angel as if Willow had accepted his explanation and that any anger she’d felt initially had passed. And why not? What he’d done had been motivated by his concern for her well-being and he could not be faulted for that.

He looked down at the infant he held – his son, his precious gift, the boy who was safe because of the woman standing before him. Yet for all of that, she’d never held Connor. It was time for that to change. “You know, he’s never gotten the chance to thank you for saving his life.” He held his son out to Willow, all but pleading for her to take him in her arms.

Willow stared at Connor as Angel offered him to her. She hesitated for a long moment, still not comfortable. She’d been ducking this eventuality since her arrival. Maybe she wasn’t a junkie, but that didn’t mean she was good. So much pain seemed easily laid to her account and she feared what her touch could do to the little boy. And it wasn’t as if she was used to children in any case. Babysitting Dawn was as close as she’d been to an infant in who knew how long, and given the fact that Dawn was an ostensible teenager who was in fact older than Anya, she guessed that wasn’t really very close at all.

With a sigh, she reached out and, with much trepidation, took the baby from Angel. Connor’s eyes caught hers as she held him, innocent and new, without any awareness of the things she’d done, looking at her as if she were some strange, wonderful thing he’d just discovered. It was powerful and for a few seconds she almost forgot to breathe. “You’re a sweet boy, yes, you are,” she said softly when her lungs returned to working.

Watching Willow hold Connor was closer to perfect happiness than Angel ever thought he’d safely be. Someday they’d be a family – somehow. There had to be a way to deal with the curse…and with the feelings she had for Spike. The way she’d come back into his life seemed like the work of destiny.

“He likes you.” The words felt both necessary and superfluous.

Her smile warmed him. “I like him, too.” Those words weren’t superfluous at all.

Anya’s car pulled to an abrupt stop in front of the Hyperion and Xander finally drew a breath. He loved her, he really did, but so help him he was having her sign a pre-nup specifying that he did all the driving once they were married. They were here though and that was what mattered.

“Thanks.” He gave her a small smile, genuinely grateful that she had been willing to get up so early and drive them here today.

“You’re welcome.” She reached over and took Xander’s hand. “This has to be a good time. Angel will probably still be asleep seeing as how this is sort of nighttime for vampires, right? I mean, Spike was always dead to the world at this hour.” Realizing what she’d just said, she was glad to see Xander grin. Still, she felt the need to clarify her statement. “That was a figure of speech, by the way. Because actually Spike is always dead to the world – because he’s dead.”

Xander’s smile grew broader. An could always do that – distract him at the bleakest and most difficult moments. For all that her tactless and awkward ways chafed at times, they brought him more happiness than humiliation and he hoped she never changed. But reality had to be faced and Xander’s expression turned serious as he said, “We better go in now.”

Anya, for her part, smiled at him. “It’s going to be okay.” And it probably was, wasn’t it? It wasn’t as if Angel would hurt Willow, even if he was keeping her here for reasons Anya couldn’t figure out yet. He had his soul…didn’t he? She fought not to hyperventilate and upset Xander as the possibility that Angel might be a bad guy again crossed her mind for the first time. But that was ridiculous. Someone would have told them. From what she’d heard, Angelus wasn’t exactly subtle and the carnage would have filtered to them through the demon grapevine for sure. The smile remained as she grew calm once more.

Xander got out of the car and walked around to open the door for Anya. His hand shook slightly as he held the handle. What they were about to find out, he had no idea, and even after all these years, Xander still hated the unknown.

She got out, taking that shaking hand after he’d closed the door. The gesture quieted his nerves, made him feel more confident. That was something else Anya did for him – she made him feel like he was man enough to handle things: big things, important things. Like whatever was going on with Willow, for instance. He took a deep breath and they walked, hand in hand, into the old hotel.

There was no doubt about it, Anya decided when they entered the lobby of the Hyperion, the Watcher’s Council had been shortchanging them for years. How come Angel and his group got a place like this? With red velvet furniture and high ceilings and hey – income potential! Were they renting out any of the rooms? Because if they weren’t, for a nominal fee, Anya would be glad to help them formulate a business plan and…

What was she thinking? This was about Willow, who was Xander’s friend…and her friend, too; Willow, who might be in a whole lot of trouble right now. Anya needed to focus. Friendship now, capitalism later.

There were voices coming from the lobby and one of them sounded very familiar to Angel. “Xander’s here,” he said softly, motioning for Willow to stay quiet. “Let me go see what he wants. I’ll come and get you in a minute.” He didn’t need to ask her if she wanted to keep up the cover story. What had they just been discussing?

She simply nodded and Angel left, making his way back downstairs in a trice. And yes indeed, there was Xander Harris, accompanied by a girl he remembered as Anya. They were facing away from the staircase, still clearly believing they were alone. “This is a surprise,” Angel said, enjoying their obvious agitation as they whipped around at the sound of his voice.

“We’re here to see Willow,” Xander responded harshly. It was funny how just a few seconds in the vampire’s presence reminded him just how much he hated Angel. Smug, sneaky bastard.

Anya immediately chimed in with “Yes, and we’re not leaving until we see her.”

Angel hadn’t liked what little he’d known of Anya back in Sunnydale; he liked her less now. “Of course,” he said, keeping his voice calm and even. “Let me see if she’s awake.” His face was a mask of concern for Willow.

Xander wasn’t having any of it. Anya was so right. And if he saw Cordelia… he wanted Anya to break her feet so badly she’d never wear a pair of designer shoes again. “Oh, she’s awake, buddy. And she’ll see us.”

A brief nod was Angel’s answer before he turned and went back to the nursery, grinding his teeth as he did. His words were brief as he explained what was happening to Willow with as little emotion or sentiment as possible. “He and Anya insist on seeing you.”

All sorts of emotions had been coursing through Willow’s mind as she had waited for Angel’s return. She trembled slightly, not sure which of them she was feeling right now. While she wanted to stay here, for Spike’s sake, and this visit complicated that, she was also touched that Xander cared enough to come see her. The fact that he was so concerned meant a lot to her. For a long time she’d been scared, deep down, that their friendship was no longer anything real, that it was just something they talked about now. But maybe she had been wrong; maybe they really were the last two Musketeers,

If that were true, what Willow was about to do might kill something that wasn’t already dead after all. She had no choice, though, did she? And it wasn’t as if they’d believe she’d never been a junkie anyway. No, they’d just see the truth as a desperate ploy by an unregenerate addict. Lying was her only option no matter what.

It wasn’t such a bad thing that she looked terrible today. All the better to fit the part.

So she took one last look at the little boy in his crib and let Angel guide her down to the lobby, hoping she wasn’t overplaying the ‘worn down magic junkie’ role as she leaned on him slightly. Acting had never been her career goal. “Hey, Xan. Anya.”

Whatever Xander’s hopes had been, they were dashed when he saw his best friend’s face. She looked horrible – as bad as she’d looked that last day in Sunnydale. And the way she was hanging onto Angel… It made him sick to his stomach. That creep hadn’t been lying and Xander hated him more than ever for that. He was supposed to fix Willow, make her better so she could come home. Feeling Anya’s hand on his arm, he fought the urge to lean against her the way Willow was leaning on that bastard of a vampire, but oh God was he glad she was here. “It’s good to see you.”

That would have sounded better if he hadn’t choked on the words.

Spike felt awful – too many nights of playing Russian Roulette with whiskey had finally caught up with him. What he needed was a bit of the hair of the dog, but wouldn’t you know he was out of so much as a whisker. He figured that heading downstairs to raid the company stash was a good plan, so he left his room to do just that.

There were voices coming from the lobby and, even in his condition, Spike recognized them all. What do you know – Doughnut Boy and Demon Girl had come a-calling. Bloody hell. This could not be good.

If he ended up being carted back to Sunnyhell by that pair…

He stayed at a safe distance and did some listening. Sadly, being so cautious cost him the complete audio experience, but he heard enough – enough to know that Willow was one crafty piece…but nowhere near as crafty as that thrice-damned sire of his.

Well, it was up to Spike to show that he was every bit the sneaky, lying wretch that either of them were. Time to join the game. “Willow?” he called out as he headed to the staircase. “There you are,” he said more softly as he hurried down the stairs. “What are you doing down here? You should be resting.” His face was a mask of concern as he walked up to her and caressed her cheek. Turning to the dynamic duo as if he was only now aware of their presence, he greeted them with “What are you lot doing here?”

“I wanted to see how Will was doing. Which I don’t need your permission to do, by the way,” Xander huffed. His next words were addressed to Willow herself. “Is there any way we could talk? You know, just us live people?” He was including Anya; how could he not include Anya?

“Umm…sure,” Willow replied, trying to hide her terror. She was going to have to keep lying without any back-up. But she couldn’t say no to Xander. Turning to Angel, she asked, “Can you guys just…”

Angel didn’t want to go – not the least of which because Xander’s snide remark left him disinclined to give the boy any satisfaction – but he knew that refusing would just create suspicion, so he said “Of course” and nodded for Spike to follow him out of the lobby. After all, they could eavesdrop if they liked.

He watched as Anya and Xander followed Willow over to the plush red sofa. Then he and Spike walked the rest of the way upstairs and out of sight of the trio.

“Think they’ll talk Red into going back?” Spike asked softly once they were out of human earshot.

“No.” One word spoken with utter confidence, sincere confidence.

“That certain of your kissing skills, huh?” Spike smirked, enjoying the wounded look on Angel’s face. Served the bastard right. Remembering the taste of his sire on Willow’s lips made his gut clench all over again. It was only fair for Angel to feel a bit of pain.

Recovery came quickly, however. “Jealous?” This time Angel was the one who smirked, slow and cocky and so much like his demon.

Spike pulled his own demon to the fore and turned it around. “She’s not bad, I’ll give you that. The chit knows what to do with her tongue.” Take that, Angelus.

Time stood still for a moment as Spike’s words pierced Angel’s heart as surely as any stake. The boy wasn’t bluffing and Angel knew it. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, and how much right did he actually have to be hurt? Because he knew that Willow had feelings for his callow childe. Still, it was painful anyway, knowing that she’d left his arms and gone straight to Spike.

Without another word, and not worrying about conceding defeat, Angel walked away. He needed to see his son. There he would find comfort and solace. And with Connor, after all, he would be reminded of the special time he and Willow had shared this morning. In the nursery lay the balm for his wounds.

Spike watched as Angel turned his back on him without so much as a single retort. Just like him, wasn’t it? Suddenly uninterested in spying on Willow’s pow-wow with her pals, Spike headed back to his room. He couldn’t wait for darkness. He needed to get out of this place and think.

Tbc…

Gabrielle

The Velvet Vampire-The Writings of Gabrielle:

James' Lollipop Association Member #27-Cherry Vanilla Lollipop

#6917

From: <help_sa2000@...>
Date: Thu Nov 26, 2009 5:03 pm
Subject: WANTED: People To Work From Home. Must Have Computer

help_sa2000

Offline

WANTED: People To Work From Home. Must Have Computer

* Just fill simple surveys. Start today.

  Online Companies Will Pay YOU $5 to $125 for Each Survey!
  Get Paid to Participate in Online Focus Groups At $50 to $150 Per Hour!
  Get Paid to Try New Products - Keep The Products For FREE and Get Paid Too!
  Get Paid to Watch Movie Trailers $4 to $25 Per Hour!
  Get Paid $5 to $95 Per Hour to Take Surveys Offline!
  Get Paid to Travel! Earn $100's Each Month Just for Traveling!
  Get Paid to Drive Your Car $1000 to $3000 per month! Plus They Pay For Your
Gas!


Click here : http://easylnk.com/?15367

Reply | Forward | Messages in this Topic (6)

#6916

From: "saraahichick" <saraahichick@...>
Date: Tue Nov 24, 2009 1:00 pm
Subject: You have received an important Message!

saraahichick

Offline

You have received an important Message! Check your message here:
http://funlev.zoomshare.com/files/love.htm

#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...

Offline

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

#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...

Offline

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