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To Comfort Her -- by Ruby
Rating: PG-13
Description: Willow has a secret, and Angel's determined to find it out.
Note: This story takes place while Willow and Buffy are in college, and Angel never went to L.A. If only I could order my own little world so easily. Dedication -- For Meg, cuz she wanted another one.:-)
Disclaimer: Joss owns all.
Angel waited in the concealment of the shadows as the lights inside the house went out, one by one. The door opened, and Willow stepped outside and off the porch. The vampire followed silently behind her as the redhead's hurried footsteps carried her swiftly down the street.
The little witch had begged off Giles' latest research project. Buffy had decided her friend's absence to be the affects of her break-up with Oz and an overload of college studies. Giles had assured Willow that the research was not urgent, that it was simply a matter of satisfying his curiosity regarding a recently slain demon.
Angel was not as convinced as Buffy that all Willow needed was a good cry and some extra sleep. From what he had seen, she had not been all that shaken when Oz had gently let her down almost three weeks ago, explaining he had met someone else and needed to decide what he wanted. In fact, it seemed to Angel that she had felt more relief than grief. And he had no doubt that the intelligent young woman could ace any of her college courses without cracking a book. So, after the third consecutive night of her conspicuous absence, he decided to find out for himself what the real reason was.
The vampire stopped, his mind buzzing with questions, as Willow crossed a street and disappeared through the doors of the Sunnydale hospital. He sat down on a bench on the small green across from the sprawling building to wait for her.
Two hours had shuffled slowly by before a flash of red hair moved out through the hospital exit. Willow crossed the street, her gait much slower than before, her eyes cast downward. Angel fancied he caught the glimmer of a tear on her cheek as she passed by him, so absorbed in her thoughts she never saw him.
Uncertain of how, or even whether he should, approach her, he settled instead for trailing her back to the house. She fumbled with the key, and he heard her exhale a soft sob as she knelt to pick it up. Overwhelming compassion forced him out of the shadows.
"Willow," he spoke gently, and she whirled around, her eyes wide with fear.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," he smiled softly. Her lips parted, and he saw a flash of panic fill her eyes as she tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her tears. Angel's voice was flooded with concern as he asked, "Willow, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," came her reply, so soft it was barely audible. He stepped closer to her and put his hand on her arm.
"It isn't nothing. Why were you at the hospital? What's going on?"
"You were following me?" she asked, anger resonating through her words.
"You had no right! It's none of your business." She attempted to turn back to the door, but his hand remained firm on
her arm.
"Are you ill? You can tell me. I won't talk about it to anyone else. Please, Willow, let me help."
"You can't," she told him, the anger in her voice now replaced by a chilling listlessness.
"Don't do this. You're worrying the hell out of me," he said.
"I don't mean to. It isn't me. There's nothing wrong with me," she promised.
"Someone else? Who?" he persisted.
"Angel, please," she looked away, choking back another sob. "I can't--can't talk about this."
He took the key from her hand and reached around her to unlock the door and swing it open. Gently, he ushered her inside, following closely behind her. She turned to face him as he closed the door and leaned against it.
"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong. You have my word it'll go no further than this room. Now, tell me," he insisted firmly. She sighed heavily and walked across the room to turn on the lamp beside the sofa. Angel placed the key on the stand next to the door and went to her as she dropped down onto the sofa and covered her face with her hands. He took her wrists and pulled her hands down. Moving his hands to her cheeks, he brushed her tears away with gentle caresses. "Talk to me," he whispered.
She shook her head and swallowed against the fresh tears that welled up in her luminescent eyes. Angel moved onto the sofa and pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair as she wept quietly against him. After several minutes, he drew her gently away from him and raised her chin with his hand.
"Tell me, Willow," he asked again.
"It's--it's my mom," she answered.
"Your mother. She's sick?"
Her eyes moved away from his as she nodded her head, "She's dying. Pancreatic cancer. It's inoperable."
"Willow," he whispered soflty, his voice mirroring her sadness.
"It was too far advanced by the time they discovered it," she continued.
"How long have you known?" he asked her.
"Three weeks, I guess."
The reason for her apathetic response to Oz's leaving suddenly became painfully clear to the vampire.
"Why didn't you say something? You shouldn't have kept this to yourself," he admonished her gently.
"I--I couldn't talk about it. I'm barely dealing with it as it is," she answered. "She slipped into a coma four days ago."
"Are you here all alone? Where's your father?" he asked.
"New York. I don't know what they fought about this time, but Mom returned because she wasn't feeling well, and Dad didn't come back with her. I called him when we found out, but I guess he doesn't care." The idea that he would leave his daughter to cope with this all alone sent a swell of rage coursing through the vampire. He quickly pushed it down, focusing on Willow's immediate needs instead. "Please, Angel, don't tell anyone else about this, not even Buffy. Maybe you think I should tell them, and I know they'd all want to help, but I can't. I don't think I could stand seeing the pity on their faces. I need to deal with this by myself for now."
"I promised I'd keep this between us, and I will," he agreed. "But you aren't going to deal with this by yourself, and you're not staying alone here, either."
She looked up at him, "Angel, I--"
"No," he insisted firmly. "You're coming back to the mansion with me."
"I can't!" she refused. "How in the world would I ever explain it? Everyone will know something's wrong!"
"I won't tell them you're there. You can tell them--I don't know. Tell them you're going to New York to see your father. I mean it, Willow. I'm not leaving you here."
She looked up at his unwavering stare and realized the futility of arguing with him.
"All right," she said.
"Go pack some things. I'm sure Buffy is still with Giles. If you want to avoid any questions, you can call her apartment and leave a message on her machine," he suggested.
Willow nodded once and stood up. Angel's eyes followed her, his face a mask of pained concern, as she climbed the stairs to her room.
Angel glared at the door, silently cursing the barrier between himself and the sun through which he could not pass. He had awoken when he heard Willow moving quietly in the room next to his. He had laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, after she had closed the front door and left him in the shelter of the mansion.
She had been gone all day, and the sun had just set when the door opened and Willow stepped inside. She leaned against the doorpost, unaware of the dark eyes that were staring at her. Angel moved off the sofa and walked toward her slowly, trying to read the display of emotions passing across her face.
"Angel!" she suddenly breathed. "I didn't see you."
"How's your mother?" he asked quietly.
Something in his expression brought her eyes to his, but they held his gaze only briefly before looking beyond him to the flames in the fireplace.
"Willow," he put his hand on her arm. "I called the hospital this morning."
Her body straightened as her eyes flew to his.
"You shouldn't have--"
"I wanted to check on you, make sure you were okay," he continued. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"
"I told you. My mom--"
"You lied," he shook his head. "You lied to me, Willow. Your mother isn't in the hospital. She hasn't been in the hospital. Where is she?"
She broke away from the hand that was clutching her arm and walked around him, keeping her back to him as she spoke, "In New York."
"That was a hell of a lie," he answered, barely controlling the anger in his voice. "What were you doing at the hospital last night? Why did you agree to come back here with me so I could be with you while you grieved?"
"That wasn't my idea," she reminded him. "You insisted. I couldn't refuse you without--"
"Telling me the truth," he finished the statement for her. "Do you have any idea what you put me through? Do you know how worried I was for you?"
"I'm sorry," she said, but the harsh tone in her voice did little to convince him. "You shouldn't have followed me last night. You should have minded your own business."
"What the hell kind of explanation is that?" he snapped. "You had to know your story wouldn't hold up. What were you going to do when your parents turned up back here?"
"They're gone for two months," she told him. "By the time they get back, it won't matter."
"What won't matter? You had that little story prepared all along, didn't you? Just in case you needed it for--whatever." "That 'whatever' being nosy friends who might take it upon themselves to dig around in my personal business," she nodded. Angel glared at her for a moment, checking his rising anger before asking once more, "What were you doing at the hospital last night?"
She turned to face him, her eyes colder and harder than he had ever seen them, "It's none of your business, Angel. This doesn't concern you."
"It concerns me now. You dragged me into this when you lied to me and spent the evening crying on my sofa," he argued.
"I didn't ask for your help!" she shouted. "Stay out of it."
"No," he refused flatly. "I want the truth, all of it. And if you don't tell me what's going on, I'll let Buffy in on this little scheme of yours. Start talking."
She stalked over to him, stopping so close to him he could feel her warm breath on his skin, "Tell her. I don't give a damn."
"What is it, Willow?" he asked. "Are you ill? Is that why you were there?"
"I'm not answering your questions. I'll get my things and leave," she replied.
"I'm not asking you to leave. I'm asking you to let me help. Whatever it is, I'll help," he told her.
She blew out a frustrated breath, "You're not hearing me. I don't want your help. Why can't you just accept that this has nothing to do with you and leave it alone?"
"Because I care," he answered.
"Well, don't," she said coldly. "And unless you're planning on keeping me here by force, I'm leaving."
He held out his hands in surrender, and she stepped past him to go to her room.
Angel left the mansion right after Willow had gone. He headed toward the library as his brain attempted to make some sort of sense out of Willow's bizarre behavior. As he sifted back over the past few weeks, it occurred to him she had been uncharacteristically unenthused about everything. She had declined to help in any of the watcher's research projects. She had refused Buffy's invitations to go--everywhere. She had shown virtually no emotion when Oz had broken up with her. And none of it had anything to do with an ill parent. He turned back from the route to the library, deciding instead to get some answers before discussing any of it with the rest of them. Despite her rejection of his offer to help, Angel was convinced help was exactly what Willow needed. He arrived on her front lawn and saw a single light glowing from the living room window. When she answered his knock on the door, her face registered angry impatience.
"Go away, Angel," she grumbled.
"No," he refused, putting his hand against the door to prevent her closing it. He pushed his way inside and turned to face her irate stare.
"I should have uninvited you," she hissed.
"Go ahead," he shrugged. "I'll stand on your front lawn and argue with you from there. With any luck, we'll have half the neighborhood here in fifteen minutes."
Willow slammed the door shut and jammed her fingers through her hair. Her insolent expression changed briefly to one of silent desperation.
"I want answers," he spoke softly. "If I have to stand here until dawn, I'm going to get them."
"Look, I'm sorry I lied. I know it was cruel," she said calmly. "Just, please, leave it alone. It's something I have to deal with on my own."
"From what I can see, you're not dealing very well," he told her.
"I don't even know why it matters to you," she said.
"Because you matter to me, Willow. I can't even imagine what could be so horrible it would drive you to concoct a story like that."
She sighed and leaned back against the door. Angel's eyes studied her closely. She looked exhausted. The weeks of lonely worry over whatever was troubling her were etched across her beautiful face, and her shoulders were slumped slightly in helpless defeat. It was her eyes, however, that caused the vampire the greatest concern. They were dull and empty, glazed over by what he could only describe as inescapable dread. Angel's still heart ached to go to her and hold her, but the irrational fear that she would crumble into irretrievable pieces at even the most gentle of touches stayed him from approaching her. The vampire gasped for useless breath as tears slipped from her eyes. He took a step toward her, but she had already moved away. She went to the sofa and sat down, grabbing a small throw pillow and clutching it to her.
"Go away," she said firmly.
"How can you ask me to do that?" he moaned as he went to her, kneeling down in front of her and taking her face in his hands. She sniffed angrily at her tears and shook her head, "I don't want you here. Go."
Tracing the tracks of her tears with his thumbs, he forced her eyes to his.
"I'm not leaving; do you hear me?"
"Please, Angel, please," the tears grated against her throat as she begged him. He shook his head, and a sudden burst of rage flashed behind her eyes. She shoved him violently away from her, jumped up off the sofa, and dashed up the stairs. He picked himself up off the floor as he heard her bedroom door slam shut. He growled softly as his patience broke and stormed up the stairs after her, determined to break down her door and shake the answers out of her if need be.
Willow braced herself as the sound of Angel's heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs and stopped outside her door.
"Willow, let me in," he spoke loudly.
She closed her eyes, trying futiley to still her trembling body and waited in silence.
"Either let me in, or I'm breaking down the damn door!" he shouted. Her stomach jumped as the vampire's solid shoulder slammed into the other side of the door. Instinctively, she took a step backwards as the door flew open and he strode inside the room.
"You're going to talk to me even if I have to shake the words out of your brain," he vowed.
She swallowed the fear that swirled through her and stared back into his angry eyes.
"I have nothing to say to you," she answered.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked in genuine confusion. "In all the years I've known you, I've never seen you act this way. I'm beginning to wonder if you're possessed."
She shook her head and a flicker of a wry smile pulled at her lips,
"Yes, Angel. I'm possessed. Okay, you've gotten your answer. Now, you can go."
The vampire had never felt at such a loss. He had always known the little redhead could be impossibly stubborn, but this went way beyond that. His brain scrambled for any means to get her to open up to him.
"You know I only want to help you. Willow, just tell me. Please," he begged.
She crossed her arms and fixed her eyes resolutely on his, "I never asked for your help. I don't want your help. If you choose to go running to Buffy or Giles with this, I can't stop you, but it won't make any difference. My problem is just that--mine. You can stand there until the sun comes through that window and toasts you. I have nothing to say."
"You're really going to make me do this the hard way, aren't you?" he asked her. "I'm rapidly moving past compassion and straight on to frustrated rage. You don't want me to go there; trust me."
"If anyone should feel rage, it's me. I shouldn't have to defend my right to privacy. Friendship does not guarantee you the right to pry into any and all aspects of my life. My advice to you is to trot back to Buffy and vent at her. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to stick her nose in right alongside yours."
Once again, she fought back a wave of fear as Angel's eyes took on an amber hue. "Fine," she spoke, her voice hard and low. "If you won't leave, I will."
Angel reached out and grabbed her arms as she stepped past him. Curling her fingers into a claw, she reached up and dragged her nails across his cheek. The vampire hissed as his human face surrendered to his demon. Still grasping her arms, he lifted her up off the floor and shoved her back against the wall beside the door.
Willow snarled and pushed her hands against his chest with all the force she could muster, but she was no match against his strength, and her constant struggling only fueled Angel's already considerable anger. He sensed her motion as she raised her knee up into him, and he threw her to the floor before she made contact. She rolled onto her stomach, but Angel was on top of her, rolling her back over, before she could even scramble to her knees.
She groaned as his body pressed down on hers, pinning her to the floor, and she raised her hand and clawed along the same area on his cheek.
Thin rivulets of blood began to flow from the scratches, and a deep growl rumbled up from the vampire's chest. He clutched her hair in his hand and yanked her head to the side, burying his fangs in her neck. The anger that had built to a thunderous roar inside Angel's head, abated to deafening silence as Willow's body went limp underneath him. His human features returned as he stared down at her still body, utterly disgusted by the rage she had instilled in him and the actions that rage had driven him to. He pressed his fingers over the small wounds still oozing blood from her neck. Her pulse was slow, but steady.
"Willow," he moaned, pulling her up and cradling her in his arms. "Oh, damn it. Willow, I'm sorry."
He lifted her slight body up off the floor and hurried down the stairs and out of the house.
Angel pressed the cold cloth against the punctures on Willow's throat and stared down at her pale face. Remorse flooded his being, threatening to consume him, as he silently begged her to open her eyes. He shook himself, refusing to allow his brain to indulge in the feelings of guilt he had spent years perfecting. If ever Willow needed him, he realized, she needed him now. He took her hand in his, squeezing it gently as his mind replayed the events at her house. Surely, she had realized the precariousness of her safety. He had seen the fear in her eyes, had smelled its unmistakable scent, when the demon inside had first threatened to overwhelm him. Not only had she not backed off, it seemed to him she had pushed even harder. The thought was ludicrous, but no matter how he looked at it, it seemed to him now that she had intentionally provoked him. But why? She, of all people, must have realized the danger involved. She had seen the flash in his eyes that had signaled the first warning. Had she really, deliberately, pushed him to cross that line?
"Willow," he whispered to her unhearing ears. "What the hell is going on in that head of yours? I wouldn't hurt you for all the world; you know that."
He pulled off her shoes and pulled the blanket up over her, brushing the hair away from her face and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before turning out the light. He left her door open so he might hear her if she stirred, and went to his room next door. He laid down on his bed, not bothering to undress, and allowed himself the luxury of a few silent tears as his mind once again raced over the past couple of hours. At last, he drifted into a fitful sleep. The image of Willow's small body laying on the bed next door lingered behind his eyes, hanging like a cobweb in the forefront of his mind.
The vampire awoke with a start, and he blinked back the vision of his fangs in Willow's neck and the taste of her blood flowing over his tongue. He moved off the bed and went to her door. The sudden realization that he could not hear her heartbeat sent him rushing to the side of her bed. He looked down at the empty bed on which Willow had slept and cursed into the darkness. He hurried down the corridor to find the front door open and the first pink rays of the morning sun just creeping up over the horizon. He slammed the door shut with an angry shove and stomped into the kitchen. Flinging open the refrigerator door, he tore open three bags of blood and gulped them down in rapid succession in an attempt to assuage the guilt, anger, and desperate worry that rampaged through him. It didn't help.
Angel was more than a little shocked when Willow returned to the mansion shortly after noon. She entered the living room silently and sat down on the hearth of the fireplace. "Willow?" he asked after several moments of nerve-wracking silence. She looked up at him wordlessly. He went to her and knelt down on the floor in front of her. Taking her small hands in his to prevent her from running, he was once again surprised when he met with no resistance.
"You have to tell me what's going on," he said softly. "I need to know, Willow. You're tearing me apart."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "If only you hadn't followed me--"
"But I did, and you can't change that, and I'm not sorry," he insisted. "Please, if I mean anything to you at all, tell me what this is about."
"Oh, Angel, don't put it like that," she pleaded. "You know I care about you. It's just--"
"Just what?" he prompted.
"I can't," she shook her head. "I can't tell you. I can't tell anybody. When I told you I have to deal with this by myself, I meant exactly that."
"I won't accept that. Not after everything I've seen, the way you've been acting."
She sighed wearily, "You don't understand."
"Then help me. Help me understand." His fingers brushed gently over the small wounds on her throat as he continued, "Are you afraid you can't trust me? I'm so sorry about last night. I was just so afraid for you. And the quieter you got, the angrier I got. I wanted to help you, and I only ended up hurting you instead."
"That wasn't your fault. I pushed you to it," she admitted.
"Purposely," he added. "Didn't you?"
She side-stepped his question, "I know I can trust you. I'm not upset or frightened about what happened."
"You provoked me," he insisted. "Why?"
"Because I--" she took a deep breath and stood up to move away from him.
Angel was immediately at her side, placing his hands on her waist and turning her back to him.
"You won't drive me to that again," he promised her. "You were playing a very dangerous game last night, but I won't be drawn into it again. I also won't let you leave here before I get some answers." A clear, brief spark of panic lit her emerald eyes. "What is it?" he asked. "Why are you so frightened to tell me? Has someone threatened you?"
Another glimmer of fear told the vampire he had hit the mark, but she answered, "Angel, just trust me, okay? Don't ask any more questions. Just trust me."
His hold on her tightened as she twisted away from him She squealed in surprise and he lifted her up off the floor and deposited her on the couch. He pushed her back against the armrest and straddled her, taking a wrist in each hand and holding them fast.
"Now, no more claws, no more lies, and no more refusals. We can stay like this all day if we have to. Hell, we can stay here as many hours as it takes. I ate just a little while ago. I'm good for at least one night. "
Her eyes widened as they flew to his, "No! Angel, you can't keep me here!"
"Can't I? Watch me," he told her.
She began to squirm under him, "Angel, please! You can't keep me here. I have to--"
He stared down at her as her jaw snapped shut. Keeping his hands firmly around her wrists, he lowered himself down on her, trapping her fidgeting legs under his.
"You have to do what?" he asked her, his mouth hovering inches above hers.
"Nothing. It doesn't matter," she said.
"Good," he nodded. "Because whatever it is, you won't be doing it. Not unless I get some answers first."
"Oh, goddess, Angel. Please, don't be serious," she begged him. "You have to let me go."
"I'm not going to," he refused.
Tears began to seep from the corners of her eyes as she attempted once more to free herself from his weight.
"Don't make me tell you," she whispered.
Angel's voice softened, but his weight remained firmly against her,
"Tell me. What is this about?"
She squeezed her eyes shut, and he waited patiently until they reopened and immediately fixed on his.
"What is this about?" he repeated, emphasizing each word.
"You," she answered. "It's about you."
"Me? But you said--more lies. Why does that not surprise me?" he asked.
"How is this about me?"
Her eyes searched his desperately, "Please, please, Angel. Leave it alone."
"What the hell is it, Willow? You have to tell me."
"You don't understand. If I tell you, you'll get hurt. I couldn't stand it if that happened because of me."
Angel released her wrists, and they fell limply to her sides. He cupped her cheek in one hand and brushed his lips close to her ear.
"Whatever it is, you can't deal with it alone. I can take care of myself, Willow."
"Not this time," she shook her head. "Not against this. I have to do this alone, Angel. For you. Please, let me do this for you."
"I can't do that. This has driven you away from everyone you care about for weeks, hasn't it? This is why you've kept your distance from all of us. How much do you trust me?"
"A lot, but this isn't about--"
"Then trust me to help you figure out how to deal with this. Whatever you think is going to happen to me, it can't be half as bad as what this is doing to you. Believe in me enough to believe I can help. I'm forcing this out of you. Whatever happens, it won't be your fault."
"What does that matter?" she asked. "What comfort will that be when you're gone?"
"Gone? I'm not going anywhere," he moved off of her and dragged her up to sit on his lap. "Who's behind all this?" She looked at him uncertainly. "Out with it, darling," he insisted. The term of endearment was totally lost on the terrified redhead, and he felt her tremble against him. He pulled her back against his shoulder and kissed the top of her head.
"It's all right, Willow. Tell me who's behind this."
"Drusilla," she said with a defeated sigh, and an icy chill ran down the vampire's back.
"Drusilla," Angel repeated. "She and Spike are behind this?"
"Not Spike," Willow answered. "I don't think he's even here. I haven't seen him, anyway."
"But you've seen her, and she threatened you?"
"You've ruined everything," she whispered angrily. "When she finds out I've told you--"
"I won't tell her if you won't," Angel assured her.
"She'll know," the words flowed bitterly from the redhead's mouth. "She knows everything I do. She gets inside my head and--"
Willow's words faded to silence, and she rested her head against his shoulder as tears fell softly from her eyes.
"Well, I've pushed you this far. You might as well tell me the rest because I still don't understand what's going on," he told her. She pushed herself off his lap and wandered over to stare at the crackling flames in the fireplace.
"I ran into her four weeks ago when I came out of the campus library one night. Well, not ran into her, since she was pretty much waiting for me. She asked me what I'd be willing to do to stop her from destroying you. Those were the first words out of her mouth," Willow explained. "She had everything arranged before she even came after me."
"What exactly is everything?" Angel asked.
"She came back to Sunnydale to get to you, Angel. She summoned a demon who owed her a favor to help her. The demon cursed me. As long as Drusilla drinks from me, she can follow my thoughts." Angel jumped up off the sofa and went to her, taking her by the shoulders and turning her to him.
"She's feeding from you?" he asked in alarm.
She nodded and unbuttoned the first two buttons on her shirt, pulling the fabric aside to reveal two tiny wounds above her left breast.
"Oh, hell. Willow," the vampire moaned.
"I tried to stop her, tried to get away, but I couldn't. And then she said if I continued to fight her, she'd hurt you."
He brushed his lips against her forehead and looked down at her, "Go on. Tell me the rest."
"The curse required her to feed from me over the period of one complete cycle of the moon. During the last phase, which occurred this week, we each had to drink from a single cup of our mingled blood. She planned on cutting me to bleed me, but I convinced her to let me go to the hospital to have some of my blood drawn, instead," Willow explained.
"No wonder you were so upset," he murmured, caressing her cheek with his hand.
She nodded, her eyes never moving above the buttons on his shirt as she went on, "She has a couple of vampires working for her, too. One of them delivered my blood to her. When I left here after you found out I had lied about my mom, that's where I went. To Drusilla. To drink."
She ignored the shudder of horror that shook Angel's body and continued.
"The next part of the curse required you to drink from the human from which Drusilla had been feeding. I knew you'd never consent to drink from me, especially without telling you why. But I also knew how frustrated you were with me. When you showed up at my house last night, you were already angry enough to throttle me. I knew it wouldn't take much more for you to go from throttling to biting."
"Damn it, Willow, why couldn't you have just told me what was going on?" he asked.
The readhead sighed in exasperation, "Don't you see? I couldn't tell you, not after what she said she'd do to you if I told you the truth."
"Which was--what?"
"If I tell you, will you promise to help me finish this?"
"No, not without knowing what 'this' is," he responded.
"She's found a spell, Angel, a spell to remove your soul, and she threatened to use it if I didn't help her and keep her secret."
Angel's mind reeled as she added this newest detail to everything else she'd said.
"But I would have thought she'd rather have Angelus, anyway," he uttered.
"No, it wouldn't be like that. Your soul is permanent now. If she removes it, there won't be any Angelus or any Angel. Removing your soul will destroy you," Willow explained sadly.
He stepped back from her and turned away, allowing the information to seep into his brain.
"I've told you everything," she whispered. "If you don't agree to finish this now, she'll kill you."
"Finish it," he echoed. "How?"
"It's the last part of the ritual for the curse," she answered. "You have to drink from Drusilla."
He turned back to her slowly, his eyes wide and dark.
"It will bind the two of you together. You'll still be Angel, but you'll be hers."
"And you think I'd prefer that to destruction?" he asked her.
"If you go to her and do this, maybe you can help her change. Or maybe we can find a way to unbind the two of you. She's completely driven by her obsession for you, and she's determined to see this through to the end--one way or another. But I know you care about her. It wouldn't be like you were with someone you hated. And in the meantime, we could search for a way to fix this."
"I despise everything she is! Hell, I _made_ her what she is. You know damn well there'll be no changing her, and there may not be a way to undo this once it's done. You can't really think I'd agree to take a chance like that."
"Angel--" she reached out for him, but he stepped away.
"How was she planning on getting me to drink from her without telling me the truth?" he asked.
"Through me," Willow answered. "You both drank from me. That created a connection between the two of you, not nearly as strong as the connection she holds over me, but strong enough so that she could come to you and make you think she was me. It wouldn't have been until after you'd drank from her that you would have realized it really hadn't been me."
"And by that time, it would have been too late," he added.
"Angel, you can still go to her. She won't destroy you if you agree to--"
"You know what I think?"
The harshness of his voice caused Willow to catch her breath uneasily. "I think you've taken a hell of a lot upon yourself. Who gave you the right to choose my fate?"
"She threatened to destroy you! I only wanted to--"
"You only wanted to make a decision that was not yours to make. You've told me so many lies, I've lost track of them all," he snapped. "You lied about your mother. You conspired to help Drusilla. You manipulated me into doing things I never wanted to do. You two make one hell of a team."
"It isn't like that," she pleaded. "I understand how angry you must feel, but you have to--"
"Don't tell me what I have to do," he shouted. "You would have kept this from me until I was bound to that insane bitch with no way out." He looked away from her as tears began to flow from her eyes. "I can't talk to you about this right now. I need time to think," he stated, pushing an angry breath from his lungs. "Do me a favor and just stay away from me."
Willow sank down onto her knees, as he stormed out of the room.
Willow was torn between the desire to put as much distance between herself and Angel as possible and the need to stay nearby in the hope that he would talk to her. The decision was made for her when Angel appeared at the end of the hallway immediately after sunset and left the mansion, slamming the door behind him. She sighed and leaned her head against the fireplace mantle, gazing down into the dying embers.
"You told him."
Willow jumped and whirled around to find Drusilla's angry eyes glaring into hers.
"You told my Angel everything," the vampire snarled.
"I--I had to. He--"
Willow's words ended in a cry as Drusilla clutched her by the throat, lifted her off the floor, and flung her with vicious force into the wall. The vampire stood over the redhead's still form and scowled down at her for a moment before reaching down to haul her up off the floor and cart her out of the mansion.
Angel returned to the mansion to find Willow, unsurprisingly, gone. He fought the part of him that compelled him to go after her and went to the kitchen to eat. Anger bubbled under the surface of his conscience at the feelings of betrayal he still felt toward the redhead. If only she had been truthful, he thought to himself. He could have dealt with Drusilla if only Willow had explained the situation to him. Another part of him, a part he was unable to ignore, understood her motivation. Drusilla was a formidable enemy and one who was nearly impossible to read, even for another vampire. She must have convinced Willow beyond any doubt that she would indeed have destroyed him if the redhead had refused her demands. Still, the decision had not been hers to make, certainly not without confiding in him. He growled softly and shook himself. Setting the empty mug in the sink, he left the mansion once again to go in search of his lunatic childe.
Willow gasped at the sharp pain along her rib cage as she pushed herself into an upright position and leaned against the wall behind her. Her wrists were bound so tightly behind her, she felt as though her shoulders were being wrenched from their sockets. Soft, delighted laughter from across the room drew her eyes to the unfocused form of Drusilla.
"He's coming to me," the vampire smiled.
She walked over to Willow and knelt down beside her, drawing her fingers along the redhead's cheek.
"You were very, very naughty to disobey me," she said as her fingers traveled down to the pusle point below Willow's ear.
"Please, don't," Willow whimpered, her eyes rimmed with tears.
The vampire made a soft shushing sound before bending her head to sink her fangs into Willow's throat. The young woman moaned as the room began to spin around her. Her body, still weakened by having been thrown into the wall, succumbed quickly to the loss of blood. Drusilla withdrew her fangs and pushed the redhead back against the wall. Her fingers swept across the tiny rivulets of blood that trickled down Willow's throat. She brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked the sweet red liquid from them.
"He's coming to me," she whispered with a smile.
Angel pocketed the stake and entered the building as the ashes of the fledgling who had tried to stop him drifted away in the breeze. The singular scent of his beautiful childe wafted along in the musty air of the room as Drusilla appeared out of the shadow across from him. She moved to him and put a delicate hand around the back of his neck. Angel looked down at her silently, and she brushed her lips over his. He neither returned the kiss nor broke it, remaining still until her lips drew away from his and her head dropped to rest against his chest. He put his arms around her and stroked her dark hair.
"Would you really destroy me?" he asked softly. He felt rather than saw the smile that crept across her face.
"Everything is ready," she told him.
"Everything? Meaning the spell? You really would do it, wouldn't you?" She raised her head to look up at him and whispered, "Drink from me. The little witch is waiting to die."
Angel pushed her away from him, gripping her by the arms, "Willow is here? Drusilla--"
"Her blood is so pure, so sweet. Her blood is for me. My blood is for you."
"Where is she, Dru? Is she all right?"
Willow lifted herself on trembling legs and leaned against the wall behind her, waiting for the room to stop whirling in nauseating circles. She willed herself to move forward to the narrow table that had caught her eye from across the room. The items arranged neatly upon it were obviously the ingredients for the spell. The parchment on which the incantation was written sat amongst the rest of the items. Willow leaned over and grasped the paper between her teeth, repositioning it at the table's edge. She turned around and picked it up in her bound hands. The ropes bit into her wrists as she twisted her hands and began to tear the paper into little pieces, letting them drift to the floor. Her limited mobility made it a laborious and slow process, and she felt blood trickling down her hands from where the ropes cut into her flesh.
That being done, she hooked her leg around one of the legs of the table and pulled it away from the wall. She brought her foot up under it and kicked it over. The table crashed to the floor, splintering into pieces and shattering two vials of liquid as the other ingredients scattered across the floor.
Willow turned toward the door as it flew open, and a tall, angry vampire strode inside and eyed the mess on the floor. Her head snapped to the side as he backhanded her, and she flew across the room and landed in a silent heap.
Angel tensed at the sound of the commotion coming from the other room. Drusilla spun around, and her sire followed behind her, stopping as she shoved the minion aside and swept into the room. Her eyes traveled over the tattered scraps of paper and the broken vials.
She growed as her human features shifted, and she crossed the room and dragged Willow's body up off the floor. Angel's hand clutched Drusilla's arm and jerked her violently around.
"I won't let you hurt her, Dru," Angel warned her.
"She's such a very bad little witch," she whispered. "Her blood is singing, all red and pretty. Shall we hurt her, my pet? The moon whispers of death and belonging." As Drusilla turned back to Willow, Angel grabbed a stake from his pocket.
"Daddy loves you, but can he destroy what he created?" she murmured to Willow, never turning to look at him.
Angel drove the stake into Drusilla, then whirled around and staked the vampire who had raced into the room, too late to protect her.
Angel was cleaning Willow's bloody wrists when she awoke on the bed in the mansion.
"Angel?" she muttered.
"It's all right, Willow," he said softly.
"I destroyed the spell. She can't--"
"I know," he nodded. "You're safe now."
She struggled to sit up, but he pushed her back down with a firm hand.
"Where is she?" the redhead asked.
"I staked her."
She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly, "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry that I killed her?" he said with obvious surprise.
"You cared about her. I know you, Angel. You must have cared."
"She reminded me of everything I was. I hated her for it," he responded. "But, yes, I cared."
"It's my fault. I should have told you everything right from the start."
"Yes, you should have," he agreed.
"Can you forgive me?"
"I'm hardly in a position to forgive other people. You were wrong, Willow. That's the bottom line."
"You're still angry with me," she said.
"I am," he nodded. "You're in no shape to discuss this right now. Get some sleep."
"I really am sorry," she told him as he walked to the door.
"I know."
He looked at her for a long moment before leaving her to sleep.
Willow rolled carefully off the bed, wincing as her ribs painfully protested against her movements. Taking a breath to brace herself, she knelt down to retrieve her shoes off the floor where Angel had dropped them the night before. The breath flew out of her in a quiet grunt as a sharp pain stabbed at her side.
"Willow," Angel spoke from the doorway. "You're not up to that."
"I'll be okay," the reply came out in short pants of breath.
He went to her, placing his hands on her arms and moving her back toward the edge of the bed.
"I need to go home, Angel. I shouldn't be here," she objected.
"I suppose I can't stop you if you're really determined," he said, letting his hands fall to his sides.
Willow bit back tears at his indirect way of agreeing that perhaps she really shouldn't be here. Then, she mentally kicked herself for expecting anything different.
"At least let me walk you. I'm not sure you can make it that far on your own," he offered.
The pain that screamed through her body overrode her desire to just get out of his sight as quickly as possible, and she nodded her acceptance.
The distance between the mansion and her house seemed to both vampire and witch to have lengthened by several miles, and that distance was traversed in total silence. Angel waited until she unlocked and opened the door before turning to leave.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He nodded silently, and Willow walked over the threshold and turned to watch as his retreating form was swallowed up in the darkness.
Buffy had telephoned a half dozen times and left increasingly worried messages on the machine. Willow phoned her back, relieved to catch her on the first try, and explained that she'd clumsily slipped and fallen down the stairs. After assuring her friend that she was a bit sore, but would be fine in a few days' time, they said their goodbyes, and Willow slowly climbed the stairs to treat herself to a long soak in a hot tub. The hot water and fragrant bath salts helped soothe her aching body, but did nothing to relieve the ache that overwhelmed her heart. She wrapped herself in a warm, comfortable bathrobe and laid down on her bed.
Hot, salty tears coursed down her cheeks as her mind returned to the events of the past month. Angel may have effectively obliterated Drusilla's dangerous presence, but the terrifying events and bitter regret remained as agonizingly acute as ever. Realizing there was nothing she could do to change past actions, she decided the best thing to do would be to stay away from Angel. She had lost his trust, very possibly lost his friendship, but she could at least keep herself--his constant reminder of lies and betrayal--out of his line of sight.
Buffy stopped by the next day after her morning classes to check on her friend, insisting the redhead stay in bed while she fixed her lunch and brought it up to her room. Willow's sad, weary eyes belied the cheerful tone she forced into her voice, and the slayer left her house and went directly to see Angel.
"She didn't tell you what happened?" the vampire asked as she dropped down beside him on the sofa.
"She said she had an accident, but she's got bruises that didn't come from a tumble down the stairs, and she was trying a little too hard to keep the collar of her robe pulled up around her neck. You know what really happened, don't you?"
She sat in dumbfounded silence for several minutes after the vampire had explained all that had transpired between himself, Willow, and Drusilla.
"Why didn't she tell me?" Buffy asked.
"Maybe she was too ashamed. She should be," he answered.
"Why didn't she ask for my help after Drusilla cornered her? And why didn't _you_ after you found out?" the slayer's voice was laden with gentle anger at his sharp words about Willow.
"By the time I found out, she was in over her head. Everything happened so quickly," he answered softly. "Or maybe it was just a matter of dealing with my murderous childe on my own. It doesn't really matter now, does it?"
"No, I guess not," she agreed. "I've never seen Willow look so--unWillowlike. She looks so tired and defeated."
"I imagine she does. She's been through a hell of an ordeal. She'll heal, though."
The slayer was taken aback by the cold words he had uttered. "You're really angry at her, aren't you?" she asked. "She thought she was protecting you, Angel."
"I know that. She was making decisions for me that weren't hers to make. I might have been able to resolve the whole mess without having to stake Drusilla if Willow had come to me when it started."
"You have to be kidding! You're mourning that bitch?" Buffy gasped.
"She was my childe, Buffy. She wasn't a bitch until I made her one."
"And you felt responsible for her," she nodded. "I guess I can understand that, in a way. But you know she wouldn't--couldn't--ever have changed. You may have ended up killing her even if Willow had told you right off. You don't know. Or she could have killed Willow as soon as she learned she'd come to you."
Angel's only response was a silent stare.
"Poor Willow. She must have been frightened out of her mind," Buffy murmured more to herself than to him. "You probably don't care, and maybe I don't have a right to express my opinion now that we aren't--together, anymore."
"You're opinion will always matter to me," he told her.
She smiled softly and laid her small, warm hand over his larger, cold one, "Willow is worth a thousand Drusillas. No matter how misguided she may have been or how wrong you think she was, everything she did was done out of fear for you. That has to mean something." Again, her words were met by silence.
"Maybe you just need time to let the edge wear off a bit," she suggested.
"Maybe," he said. She rose from the sofa to leave him and looked down at him as she spoke, "Willow is too wonderful to give up, Angel. You wouldn't be so upset with her if you didn't care for her so deeply."
His stunned gaze followed her as she walked to the door and turned back to him, "She doesn't have your two centuries worth of experience, you know. Mourn Drusilla if you need to, but remember, you're not the only one who's hurting. Maybe you should try a little of that understanding she gave you when you came back from hell. She deserves it now as much you did then. Think about it."
"Hey, Xander," Willow smiled as he followed Buffy into the house.
"How's the burger business?"
"Don't start," he warned her. "I'm just trying to earn enough money to finance my cross-country road trip. You know that."
"Yeah, right," Buffy said. "We know you just like toasting buns."
"As opposed to toasted buns, which could be very painful," Willow giggled.
Xander groaned and tossed himself down onto a chair, "It's humiliating enough that I have to wear a cap with bull horns sticking out of it without you two ridiculing me."
"I'm sorry," the redhead laughed. "You know we think you're very cute in horns."
"And the bull suits you perfectly," Buffy added with a grin. The two visitors watched as Willow carefully lowered herself onto the other armchair.
"How are you feeling?" Buffy asked her.
"Better--no really, I am," she insisted as they looked at her skeptically. "I'm keeping up with my assignments, and I'll be back in classes next week. Buffy, I'm--I'm sorry I didn't tell you--"
"Forget it, Will," the blonde smiled. "You've been apologizing for the past three days. I'm just glad you're okay."
"I'll agree with that," Xander nodded. "I can't imagine running into that loony on a dark, lonely campus."
"Xander, that isn't helpful," Buffy admonished him. "Have you spoken with Angel lately?"
Willow's gaze drifted down to her hands lying in her lap, "No. I'm sure he's had enough of me to last at least another century."
"Willow," Buffy said. "I'm sure he doesn't--"
"Let's not go there, okay? You guys want something to drink?"
"I'll get it," the slayer offered. "Let's order a pizza and send Burgerboy out to grab a couple of movies. We'll make a night of it."
"Okay," Willow nodded enthusiastically, grateful for a temporary reprieve from her lonely thoughts.
Angel had spent the better part of a week wandering the dark streets of town. He told himself he wasn't meandering aimlessly about in the hope of running into Willow. It was the result of restless boredom, not a gnawing concern for the tiny redhead. Besides, he reminded himself, Buffy had told him she had returned to classes last week, still bruised and more than a little sore, but definitely on the mend. The feeble pretense was smothered in the darkness as he found himself standing on the sidewalk outside Willow's front door. It had been two weeks since he had left her standing on that doorstep, and he had not had so much as a fleeting glimpse of her since that night. He knew deep hurt had caused her to lock herself away from his view. Even if instinct hadn't told him so, the look on her face that last night in the mansion would have been proof enough.
Absence made his heart grow weary. He longed to look into the emeralds of her eyes. Touch the soft fire of her hair. Feel her head resting against his chest as he told her that she was all that mattered. That no matter how angry he had been, she truly was worth all the Drusilla's eternity ever created. He took a step onto the lawn and looked up as the light in her bedroom window went out. With an involuntary sigh born of lost chances, he continued down the street, praying, knowing no god would hear, that the small redhead would be graced with painless sleep.
Angel entered the Bronze and looked around for Buffy. College studies and her newest elbow decoration took up most of her time, and she didn't come here as often as she used to. The semester having just been concluded, she had decided to celebrate and had invited the vampire to join them. His eyes settled on the table at which the blonde slayer and her equally as blonde guy-of-the-moment were sitting, and he was surprised to see Willow seated across from them. Buffy saw him standing just inside the door and motioned him over with a wave of her hand.
Willow visibly tensed as she realized who was approaching, and her eyes lowered to study the tabletop. Buffy put her foot against the remaining empty chair and shoved it back from the table. Angel sat down and looked over at Willow's bowed head, but she stubbornly refused to meet his eyes.
"Angel, this is Eric," Buffy said with a smile.
The blonde man extended his hand to the vampire, "I've heard a lot about you."
The slayer gave Angel a look that assured him she hadn't told Eric *everything* about him.
"I haven't seen you for a few days. How are you doing?" she asked him.
"Okay," Angel answered. "So, you're free for the summer."
"Absolutely. No summer courses for me. I've got playing to catch up with," she laughed.
Buffy looked over as Willow scooted her chair back and stood up, keeping her eyes planted directly on her friend, "I should be going."
"Oh, come on, Will. No classes tomorrow, remember?" the slayer replied.
"I promised Giles I'd help him out tomorrow with something he seems to have lost in his computer. So, I'd better make an early night of it. You guys have fun, though," she explained.
"Okay," Buffy nodded unhappily. "Call me when you're done. We'll do--something."
"I will," Willow agreed.
Buffy watched Angel watch Willow as she left the building.
"Go after her, you idiot," she ordered.
"I don't think she--"
"Angel! You can be so dense sometimes. Would you stop torturing the both of you and just talk to her? You can't tell me you're still angry."
"No, I'm not. I just don't think she wants anything to do with me," the vampire said.
"Considering the way you've been acting, I can't say that I blame her. I've haven't seen a real smile on that girl's face in longer than I can remember," Buffy told him. "Look, if you're going to just sit here, you can sit here alone. Dance with me, Eric."
The young man looked from Angel to Buffy and nodded as he offered her his hand. The vampire watched for a few moments as Eric pulled Buffy into his arms, and they began to dance slowly together.
Angel left the Bronze and turned to walk along the path he knew Willow would take to go home. It didn't take long to catch up with her; she was walking slowly along the street, her mind absorbed in private thoughts.
He fell into step beside her, but she kept her eyes fixed on the pavement ahead of her, never acknowledging his presence.
"I really hurt you, didn't I?" he finally spoke, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the darkness. He waited for her response, which never came, before trying again,
"Willow, can't we talk about this? Please?" A long silence followed, and then she took a suddering breath and said softly, "I'm sorry. I'll always be sorry. I wish I could change it. Just--"
"Just what?" he asked as they crossed the street to her house.
"I can't ask you to forgive me," she answered. "Just forget me."
The vampire's throat constricted to the point of painfulness, "How could I ever forget you?"
"No, I don't suppose you can. Not after what I--" she shook her head as her words faded away. "I've tried to stay out of your way. I'm sorry about tonight. Buffy didn't say you were going to be there. I'll do better from now on."
"Willow," he moaned, reaching for a hand that she quickly tucked behind her back. "That isn't what I want. I don't want you to hide from me. You don't need my forgiveness, and I don't want to forget you. Everything happened so quickly. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. I was just so hurt and so worried out of my mind about--"
"And then you had to kill her, because of me," she nodded. "I know. I'm sorry I caused you that pain. I won't ever--I'm sorry. I'll stay away. I promise."
She moved away from him so quickly, he barely had time to react before she was through her front door and closing it behind her.
"Willow," he whispered sadly. "I was worried about you."
Angel bounded up onto the porch and opened the door before Willow had a chance to lock it.
"What are you doing?" she squealed as he stepped inside.
"You have to listen to me," he told her.
"I did. I said I was--"
"No," he said firmly. "I mean really listen to me. Stop thinking that you know what I'm going to say. Just sit down and listen to me."
She sighed as he gently pushed her back towards the sofa and placed his hands on her shoulders to shove her down. He sat down next to her and turned toward her. She jumped when he reached out to take her hands.
"Don't do that," he scolded her softly, grabbing them back to him.
"What I said is not what you thought you heard."
"Huh?" she replied.
"Sorry, too much time cooped up with you," he grinned.
"I know," she nodded. "I shouldn't have--"
He placed three fingers over her lips and shook his head, "No. Listen. I was angry after you finally told me what had really happened between you and Drusilla. And, as insanely vicious as she was, it hurt to have to kill her. But I understand that you felt it was the only thing you could do. I have no doubt Dru completely convinced you there was no other way out, and you wanted to protect me more than you wanted to protect yourself. You were trying desperately to make me understand that. It's just that I've had hundreds of years to perfect the art of being thick-skulled--"
Willow shook her head in emphatic disagreement and he cupped her face in his hands.
"I could have lost you that night, Willow, so easily" he whispered.
"And then I did lose you, not to Drusilla, but to my self-indulgent stupidity."
"No, Angel--"
"You're listening, remember?" he told her. "Staking Drusilla was a momentary sadness. Losing you would be an eternal misery. Willow, I'm sorry. I should have given you the understanding and comfort you were pleading for. Instead of accusing you of betrayal, I should have recognized what you did as an act of unconditional caring. You've always been there for me. I should have done the same for you. I'm old enough to know better, but sometimes, I don't act my age." He smiled at the grin that peeked from her lips at him. "Can I say something?" she asked.
"Yes," he nodded.
"You shouldn't be the one apologizing. I should."
"You did," he reminded her. "It's my turn, now. We both made some pretty bad mistakes. So, how come you're allowed to forgive me, but I'm not allowed to forgive you? That's hardly fair. You know what happens if I don't get to forgive you."
"What?" she asked curiously.
"I don't get to do this," he answered, leaning toward her and placing a soft kiss on her lips.
"Or this," he added as he pulled her onto his lap, buried his hand in her hair, and brought her mouth back to his.
With his other hand, he stroked her back as his tongue entreated entrance to the warm cavern of her mouth. Willow's lips parted slightly, and he deepened the kiss as his tongue teased an answering response from her. When he finally released her mouth to allow her to breathe, a soft blush covered her cheeks and her eyes sparkled up into his.
"We were both wrong, and we were both right," he told her. "That's proof that we belong together, you know."
"That doesn't make any sense," she told him, laughing softly.
"It doesn't have to. I love you," he replied.
Her eyes widened, and she gasped, "You--"
"Love you," he nodded. "Your turn."
"You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" she asked in feigned indignation.
"I'm pretty sure of us," he corrected her. "It's still your turn."
"So, we're just supposed to accept each other's apologies and move on?"
"Exactly. I'll never doubt you when you say you'd die for me, and you'll never doubt me when I say I'd kill for you," he grinned. "It's still your turn."
"Can you ever trust me again, after all the lies I told?" she asked him.
"I do trust you, Willow. You were placed in an impossible position, and I didn't make things any easier for you. By not telling me, you placed yourself in mortal danger, love. But you knew if you told me, I'd place myself in unmortal danger. So you took the initiative. Which can be a very good thing, in the right situation," he said suggestively.
"Willow?"
"Yes."
"It's still your turn." She chuckled and ran her fingers through his hair, "I love you, Angel."
"Took you long enough," he stated before kissing her again.
The End
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