The Soulmate Series

Temporary Shelter (Chapter Fourteen of Soulmates)

It’s morning and she feels every bit as terrible as ever, just as she knew she would. Her sleep, what little she got of it, was plagued with nightmares and she is running on the feverish sort of energy provided by a desperate desire to stay awake. She had thought she wanted rest more than anything, but when sleep offers nothing but vivid recreations of the violation she experienced via Angel’s hands and mouth and cock, she’s much better off dog tired and nearly undone by mental and emotional fatigue. She just hopes she can hold it together a little bit, because Oz is on his way over.

It used to be that Willow felt bad about the fact that Oz wasn’t really as much a part of the group as she was - that his only real connection to the others was her. But not now. Now she’s glad that his loyalty is to her alone. It makes things so much easier.

“Hi Giles. Is Oz there?”

She had said the words and been surprised at how normal she sounded, how much like the Willow she’d been two days ago - the Willow she isn’t today. It was a struggle, but she held the act together as Giles kept talking rather than simply handing the phone to Oz.

“Will you be in school today?"

He had gone on for what seemed to her like forever and even now the fact rankles. She understands intellectually that Giles has no idea of the ordeal she’s been through (how could he know?), but emotionally - no, she’s not sure she does at all. Couldn’t he hear it in her voice, sense that something was horribly, frighteningly wrong? Yes, she knows she’s being unreasonable, and on some level, she’s glad he’s not one more person she will have had to recount her pastiche of a story to today, but still...a part of her wishes that he’d been able to tell. One more dose of reality has hit her in the face: No matter how much she likes to see Giles as her father, he isn’t. And he couldn’t tell that a hideous thing has been done to his little girl because she isn’t his little girl. She’s just the best friend of his Slayer; she’s just the girl who operates the computer he abhors to do the research he won’t learn how to; she’s just the nice young girl who babbles a lot and understands the big words he uses; she’s just Willow - and for that reason, he didn’t realize that she’s changed, that something has transformed her, and not in a good way.

Finally, he handed the phone to Oz.

“Hi.”

There’s always been something attractive about Oz’s economy with words, never more so than today. He had listened while she stammered out a request for him to come see her right away, but if asked, to only tell the others that he’d asked her to bring her assignments to her and in a few short, softly-spoken words, he’d agreed. His quiet acceptance and trust have been the only good things in Willow’s world today (forever). The sound of his breathing, the sense of him she gets when he’s silent - she will miss those things more than she can possibly imagine. Of all the things Angel has cost her, she thinks maybe Oz is the one she hates him most for taking away. But gone he will be after today. She doesn’t think even he will want a broken, damaged shell of a girlfriend. A girlfriend who can’t stand the thought of being kissed, or even touched, let alone anything more - the anything more she’d been saving for him and that was stolen by Angel. A girlfriend who isn’t the bubbling, happy geek he fell for but who is instead a sad, tearful, angry stranger.

The knock on the door tells her that he’s here. She should have known he’d be here as fast as his van could carry him. Well, she’s showered twice today and Angel’s clothes are ashes; she’s as ready, she supposes, as she will ever be. So now it’s time.

“Oz,” she says as she opens the door. He moves to hug her and she backs away. If he hadn’t been sure before, he knows now that this is serious.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you just sit down? And don’t say anything ‘til I’m finished? Not that you would, ‘cause you’re not big on the interrupting, but...”

“Willow.” She’s shaking and he can tell the difference in the way she’s talking - that she’s not babbling because of too much caffeine or her normal nerves. She’s frightened and near the breaking point. He knows. Maybe not what is wrong, but he knows that something is, something big. He’s looking at her with so much concern in his eyes and Willow bursts into tears. She’s never loved him more than she does at this moment. The carefully scripted way she’d planned to tell her story dissolves into a few short, tearful words.

“Yesterday...Oh god, Oz...I was raped.”

He believes her, knows it’s true, and the change in him is stunning. It’s obvious that merely hearing the little she’s said he is just - this - close to losing control, to becoming the wolf. He holds on to his humanity, but just barely. When he finally speaks, the word is choked out.“Who?”

“I don’t know. I was walking to school...I took a shortcut...he grabbed me...I couldn’t see his face...he just...”

She can’t say any more. The memories overwhelm her. She may not be giving Oz the accurate details, but she suddenly realizes that she’s not really lying to him either. She was, after all, raped. It hurts that she can’t lose her pain in the fiction, because there isn’t nearly enough fiction to get lost in.

Oz reaches out to her, but pulls back. Does he see that she can’t bear to be touched? Or can he just not bear to touch her? She doesn’t know and she isn’t sure she wants to know either.

“Did you call the police?”

Now panic sets in. “No, Oz, I don’t want to talk to the police. Okay?”

“Willow, you should...”

Now it’s her turn to interrupt. “No I am not calling the police. I don’t want to talk to anyone or tell anyone else. I just...I just want to not talk about it. I told you and you’re the only person I’m telling and...that’s it, okay?”

He changes his tone, does his best to mollify her. “Okay.” The silence is both awkward and a relief. She’s surprised, but so thankful that he is not asking questions, that he doesn’t want details. “Have you seen a doctor?” A protest dies on her tongue as he forestalls her. “I get that you don’t want to talk to the cops or anything, but you really do need to get checked out. You could be...it’s a good idea.”

She almost laughs at his words. He’s worried she might be pregnant or that she’s been given some sort of disease, like AIDS. Still, she’s touched by his consideration and concern, by his reticence to say what he’s afraid of out loud, to give voice to what he thinks represents the worst case scenario. And maybe it would be, maybe she’s fortunate that those things aren’t an actual possibility. It’s just hard for Willow to feel lucky right now.

“Okay. I’ll call and make an appointment.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Oz, you don’t - have - to. I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to deal with this. I won’t be mad. I understand that it wouldn’t be too much fun having a girlfriend who doesn’t want to be touched or...anything, you know? I mean, I’m not gonna be a whole lot of laughs anymore, at least not for a long time and...”

“Willow.” He’s almost angry. “You think I...? I love you. And yeah, I’m going to miss holding you and kissing you, but I’m not going to stop loving you. We’re gonna get through this.” There’s a moments pause as he rethinks what he said. “You’re gonna get through this and I’ll be there to help you. If you want to talk.” For a moment she feels like a deer caught in the headlights, but then he speaks again. “Or if you don’t want to talk. If you just want to sit and stare at the wall for hours. I’ll be here, Willow. I’ll be right here.”

She realizes he’s said more now than she’s used to hearing from him at one time and she’s stunned that she’s worth so many words.

It’s funny how things have worked out. Oz will never know this, but they have so much in common now. Both have had a demon force itself into them, a demon they never wanted, never said yes to - a demon they now have to live with forevermore. For some reason, this strikes her as funny, or maybe she’s just so overwrought that her emotional synapses are firing at random. Either way, she is convulsed with laughter, bubbling up in huge waves that rob her of breath as she sinks to the floor, helpless to stop herself.

She’s sure Oz must think she’s gone insane and maybe she has. Drusilla. Was this how it began for her? Soon enough, the hysteria turns and she’s crying, sobbing as convulsively as she had laughed and she’s just as incapable of stopping it. It hurts, she thinks. It hurts. The little girl still inside her calls out for her mommy, until the cold water blast of reality hits her and she remembers that there’s never been anyone in her life to fill that role. Biology demands she have a mother, and so she does - but not a mommy...never a mommy.

There are arms around her now, male arms, and Willow reflexively pushes against the one who is trying to hold her close. She can’t help it. As much as she hates hurting him, she can’t bear for Oz to touch her. It’s awful to see the pain in his eyes as he lets her go but she can’t let him do this - it still sickens her to be held.

“I’m sorry.” Her sobs calm into hiccuping gulps and then go quiet.

“No. Don’t be sorry. I didn’t think.”

“It’s not you, it’s...”

“Anyone. I get that.”

They have moved to sit on opposite ends of the sofa now and there is silence for an awkward moment that goes on and on.

“When are you going to tell Buffy?”

“Buffy?” Hadn’t she said something to Oz about not wanting to tell anyone? Hadn’t he agreed that she didn’t have to talk about it if she didn’t want? She can’t believe he’s being so insensitive. How on Earth is she going to be able to even look at Buffy right now after what has happened?

“Oz...”

“Willow, she’s your friend. You have to tell her. And Xander and Giles...they care about you and they’re bound to know something’s up. You’re not gonna be better overnight. They need to know so they can be there for you. And you need as much support as you can get.”

She’s pleading with her eyes now, begging, hoping for a way out of this. She’s not going to get her wish.

“I’ll help you if you want. But, Willow, you have to tell them. Believe me. It’s the best thing.”

The best thing. Yeah, sure. She’s going to have to look at the girl who some irrational part of her blames for everything. If Buffy hadn’t... She can’t believe she’s blaming Buffy for falling for Angel to begin with, for sleeping with him, for not being able to kill him, for her having to do the restoration spell, for not staking him the minute she saw he’d returned from Hell, but she is, and yes, somewhere inside, she is angry with Buffy. Why couldn’t she make Angel still love her enough to overshadow this stupid connection he has with Willow? Why?

She can’t say any of this to Oz, can’t come up with any excuse good enough to make him see that silence really is golden, and she hates him, too. For someone so wont to use words sparingly, he seems curiously eager to talk a blue streak now, and to force her into unwanted speech as well.

Guilt. It’s overwhelming. Because she doesn’t really hate Buffy, doesn’t hate her at all. Buffy is still one of the best friends she has ever had. And she loves Oz - still, now, always. She knows he’s just trying to help her, to take care of her as best he sees how. But he doesn’t know...he doesn’t know.

He never can either. Reaching into herself, Willow can feel the faded stirrings of the bond. It may be a thread now, but it’s strong enough a cord to remind her of the anchor at the end. The anchor that won’t just take her down, but that will drown the boy who loves her if she hangs on to him. She can’t sense much of what Angel is feeling right now, but what he calls love - that corrupted, grotesque mockery of something so pure - is still there. Bright, hot, and dangerous. Oz has refused to walk away and, as much as Willow desperately longs to hang on to him and the love he is still so willing to give her, she’s going to have to find a way to push him, a way that doesn’t involve the knowledge that will either make him hate her or send him on a suicide mission against a demon she knows he’s no match for. But not today, no, fate can’t be so cruel as to deny her just one more day to soak in all the warmth and goodness she can to sustain her.

“Okay.” What does it matter what she agrees to today? And maybe Oz is right, maybe it will be better after all when she’s told them her story. At least then, when he’s gone, she might have some sort of comfort. Angel can’t be a threat to her friends, especially not to Buffy. No, she’s pretty sure he’ll let her keep them. He will simply make her rip her own heart from her chest, that’s all. He just won’t let her have Oz.

Oz reaches out and takes her hand. Willow lets him. She can tolerate that, especially with the knowledge that this may be the last time she ever can allow him this contact filling her thoughts. “It will be okay, Willow. Not tomorrow. But it will be. You’ll see.”

She wonders if he knows that he’s just lied to her for the first time.


Tbc...