The Soulmate Series

Syllogism

“I hate you. There. Now do you still think you love me? Still believe we have some sort of magical connection?”

Willow’s words are a stake through his heart and Angel almost wonders why he doesn’t crumble into dust where he stands. Despite her outburst, however, he doesn’t let her go, even though her anger and loathing pour into him through the bond, almost flooding him with their acid intensity. He answers her hatred with the love that still fills his heart no matter what she thinks, hoping it can stem the tide of pain that is threatening to shatter him into a million pieces, but he’s not sure she feels anything of the bond at all. He is not the only one overcome by her fury.

“I love you,” he says as he grips her arm, struggling to hold her without hurting her, even as she struggles to break free - to leave him.

“Let me go.”

It seems his declaration hasn’t helped his cause. Her hatred burns even more hotly after he’s spoken and he’s confused and...yes, even a bit angry himself. Her paralogia is starting to wear on him. He loved Buffy once, so he must love her now; he can’t love Willow because he didn’t before; she never meant for there to be a bond, so there simply can’t be one - it makes no sense to him and he wonders how a girl he knows is scarily intelligent can be so utterly imbecilic when it matters most. He grips her arm more tightly, now heedless of her discomfort, and leads her to a chair in the corner. She’s at least smart enough to stop trying to get away. Or perhaps it’s fear; he can sense the subtle difference in his face as he fights to suppress his demon.

“Sit.”

She does and he’s sadly not surprised. He knows she’s still terrified of him from the sensations he’s experiencing through their bond. He wishes that weren’t so, but at this juncture he’s not unwilling to use it to his advantage - to induce her to stay, to make her listen to him, to get her to see the truth.

“We need to talk.”

She is silent, her lips tight, like a child holding her breath in a fit of temper. She’s even glaring at him. He’d laugh if this weren’t such a serious matter. She’s adorable, even when she’s stubborn and intractable, and he wonders how he could have failed to notice this in the days before he lost his soul. He knows it’s not just the connection of their souls that makes her so enchanting.

“I know you’re angry with me, and I understand, I do.” That, at least, isn’t a complete lie. He does understand some of her rage. He just doesn’t understand the entirety of it: her obstinate insistence on the sanctity of his one-time relationship with Buffy; her unwillingness to accept the bond; her inability to comprehend the reasons why he acted the way he did. She knows about demons and what they’re like, she’s even told him that the boy she fancies she loves is a werewolf, so why is it so hard for her to see reason?

“But, Willow, please listen to me. Let me explain.”

Her face is still a mask of intransigence and Angel fights a growing sense of irritation. Deep down, he knows that he is being childish and selfish and perilously illogical in his own right, but he can’t help it. He simply can’t accept the idea that the bond doesn’t mean what he wants it to mean: that they are meant to be, consecrated by fate, soulmates. If that is so, as he believes, then she should appreciate the circumstances that led him to unwittingly hurt her, and she should forgive him, or at least open herself up to the possibility of doing so in time.

“You raped me.” Her words are terrible in their power, even as her voice is eerily calm and flat. She isn’t looking at him.

If only she hadn’t spoken. Angel already knew in his heart that this was how she saw what had happened between them, at least the first time, but as long as it had never been put into words, he’d been able to pretend...to pretend that she saw at least some of the truth. Now...with that horrible, brutal word - rape - hanging in the air between them...all hope must die. But Angel is a vampire and for him nothing is ever dead, not really. It can always be reanimated. Even hope.

“No, Willow, I....we...” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before she’s on her feet, fury contorting her features, her eyes blazing and now fixed on him.

“No?!?! How can you say that?!?! And we? There was no we here. You - raped - me. I said no. You forced me. Where is there any room for argument? Okay, at the time, you weren’t exactly in your right mind and maybe you didn’t realize what you were doing, but you seem pretty sane now and there’s no way you don’t understand what you did to me. Either way, Angel, it doesn’t matter what you thought or what excuses you want to make or what your state of mind was. You tore my clothes off, you held me down while I begged you to stop, and you made me have sex with you. That is rape. I’m sorry, but it’s a fact. And no, wait a minute, I’m not sorry. You should be sorry. You should be ready to stake yourself. Because hey, if there was a stake here right now, I would be more than happy to do it for you. You raped me, you bastard!”

With that last screamed epithet, he feels a blow land hard against his cheek and nearly loses his balance. She has slapped him full force and it stuns him. For her to be brought to the point of violence...she hates him. Truly, completely, and with all of her heart. And he does not understand this at all. Some anger, yes, that he can accept - but this deep, unmitigated loathing, that he cannot fathom. The first time...he was brutish and unthinkingly violent. Yet afterwards, she’d let him make love to her, let him hold her, let him utilize the bond to show her his feelings and how they’d grown. Why won’t she acknowledge any of that?

A small voice whispers to him that she never really consented to anything that happened between them - merely stopped fighting him, resistance having proved futile - but Angel doesn’t want to listen and refuses to give it credence. Instead, restraining his anger with all his might, he takes the arm of the cowering girl, so shocked by her own outburst that she hasn’t made a move to leave, and guides her back to the chair.

She’s shaking with fear, and he’s moved to compassion. It’s obvious she’s afraid of herself and of what she’s just done as much as she’s afraid of him. It hurts to know he’s made her feel things and do things that are so foreign to her. He remembers pieces of events from the past, shadows of memories that tell him she’s not one for hate and anger. Her heart is too soft to welcome those emotions, yet he’s put them there, forced her into taking them into herself, and he hates himself for that above everything she wants him to despise himself for. It is a sort of rape he cannot explain away or make any excuses for which will serve to exculpate him, even in his own mind.

“Just let me go,” she whispers as she sits, hunched over, tears in her eyes.

“I can’t, Willow. Not until you understand.” His heart is breaking as he speaks, but he is unwavering. He knows she’s vulnerable now that the violence has passed. If he has any chance, now is the time. He knows that if she just gives him the opportunity, he can make everything up to her.

“Angel.” She is pleading with him now, her face blotchy and tear-stained, her voice filled with pain. “I am never going to understand. I get that you think you have feelings for me.” She sees the expression on his face, obviously feels the wave of emotion from him at her doubts, and backpedals a bit. “Okay, maybe you really do. But Angel, you have to accept the fact that, whether you like it or not, I am never going to feel the same way. After what you did...” She stops for a moment, afraid of his reaction, and takes a breath. “After what happened, it’s just not possible. I get the bond thing and that it makes everything complicated, I really do, but I love Oz, not you. And I am going to figure out a way to fix this so we don’t have this connection anymore. Then we can forget this ever happened and everything can go back to normal. Please.”

Head in her hands after that last, broken word, she’s doubled over with sobs. It cuts him to the core that she is so eager to destroy their connection. Only his certainty that it can’t be done keeps his demon in check. But more than his own pain, Angel is affected by the heartbreak of the girl he loves as she weeps. Angel longs to hold her in his arms, to soothe her and make everything all right. But he knows that his touch would only make everything worse. He doesn’t know what to do.

Still, for all his soul and its influence, he is still a demon with a demon’s cunning and in spite of himself, a plan begins to emerge. He may not have what he wants today, or even tomorrow, but if he’s clever and patient, he might just win out in the end. He subtly pulls back from the bond they share, not quite shutting it down, but withdrawing enough that she’s not privy to his feelings, at least not the ones he doesn’t want to share. It means sacrificing the ability to share her feelings, but it’s the right gambit for now.

“Don’t cry, Willow. It’s okay... I... I’ll take you home.” He steps back and allows her to get up. He follows at a discreet distance as she walks out the bedroom door, letting her know that, while he will be shadowing her to ensure her safety, he won’t be obtrusive. He says one last thing before they make their way to the stairs. “I just want you to know...I never meant to hurt you.” She nods, but says nothing, clearly exhausted by the emotional roller coaster of the past hours. She doesn’t object to his insistence on being her guardian, at least, and Angel clings to the tiny fragment of hope that he insists to himself is still alive because of her acquiescence. Even the smallest foundation, he is confident, offers sufficient support on which to build what he dreams.

She may not be ready to accept it yet, but they are soulmates, and someday soon she will know that, in spite of whatever pain she’s endured at his hands today, and regardless of whatever calf love she imagines she feels for this Oz, Angel is the one who can truly make her happy.

Tbc...