The Soulmate Series

The Truth, The Whole Truth, and Nothing But Lies (Chapter Sixteen of Soulmates)

“Sometimes I forget that bad things can happen to people during the day.”

Her doctor’s words are still echoing in Willow’s mind. She almost feels sorry for him. She had watched during the exam as his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, as if his last bit of hope had been drained away. He hadn’t even bothered admonishing her when she’d said she didn’t intend to go to the police.

This man is a healer, a saver of lives, and he thought he knew the rules: bad things only happen in Sunnydale after dark. But now he knows differently and he is wondering what the point of it all is. Why even bother when all his efforts will be for naught thanks to the evil he doesn’t understand but which seems to rule every inch of this town?

How much this middle-aged doctor has in common with the high school girl he just sent out of his office with a refill for her prescription for sleeping pills and a promise of an excuse to her school should she decide she can’t handle going back there. They’ve both learned hard lessons, both had their faith shattered and their innocence taken away, both are now bereft of hope. She wonders how long it will be before she gets the little card in the mail announcing that his practice is moving somewhere far from here. He’s luckier than she is though - he has a chance to get away.

Willow sits next to Oz in the van, hunched unthinkingly against the door. She notices after awhile, but she doesn’t change her position. Exits are comforting, they are the warm blanket and bowl of soup her psyche needs right now as she is driven to the school and to the library where she will be forced to tell her story to her friends. So she runs her hand back and forth across the door handle, the metal calming her nerves and stilling the racing of her thoughts. Still, there are some thoughts she can’t escape, some doors that will never open.

Buffy. Xander. Giles.

How is she going to face them? She’s grateful that Oz called them in advance, arranged a meeting where Faith and Cordelia will be blessedly absent, but she’s still dreading having to tell her tale to her friends.

She knows that if she really insisted, Oz would drive her home right now and let her avoid the trauma altogether, but she also knows in her heart that he is right and this must be done. And at least this will give her a good excuse to bow out of research and slaying and hanging around with the gang. She’s no fool. Angel won’t stay in the shadows forever. Sooner or later, Buffy will “surprise” them with the news that he’s back and he’ll work his way back into his old role.

Willow can’t bear the thought of having to be around for that, of having to pretend that he’s just Buffy’s boyfriend, the vampire whose soul she restored, and that she doesn’t want to stake him so hard that even his dust will disintegrate on contact.

The car stops and Willow realizes that they are here. She takes a deep breath and moves to get out. Oz’s voice stops her.

“Are you sure, Willow? I mean, I know I told you that you had to do this, but if you don’t think you’re up to it...”

Right now, at this moment, she loves Oz more than she ever thought it was possible to love anyone. There’s a pain inside that just keeps growing as she realizes how much she’s going to be losing to the necessity of giving him up. And she’s tempted - so very, very tempted - by the out Oz is offering her right now. But he was right when he told her that Buffy and Xander and Giles need to know the truth (at least the truth she’s been able to tell Oz) and she’s going to be brave and do what must be done.

“No, Oz. You were right. They need to know. It’s just...I’m scared. I’m scared of what they’re going to think, I’m scared of what they’re going to do, I’m scared of how they’ll treat me, I’m...I’m really scared.”

She can tell he wants to hug her, to take her in his arms and tell her that everything will be alright. But he can’t, both because she can’t allow him to touch her and because he knows what she knows: things won’t be alright, at least not soon enough to make the words anything but a hollow mockery. Oz thinks maybe they’ll be alright someday, though he would never say that to her, but he is aware enough of reality to know that someday won’t be for a very long time.

Willow, of course, knows better - someday, just like tomorrow, will never come. It will always be today and today she will always be bonded to Angel, will always be filled with the memories of his touch and his violence, will always exist in the shadow of what he calls love and what she calls cruelty; today will always be a terrible day.

They have left the safety of the van and are walking to the library, Oz hovering, trying hard to strike a balance between respecting her space and letting her know she’s protected every step of the way. It’s working - he knows her so well and his instincts are heartbreakingly sound.

The doors to the room where her friends are waiting are forbidding as they stand, each breathing in, calming and steadying themselves. She knows that Oz is worried too, worried for her, though most would never guess that fact, fooled by his impassive mien. But not her, no not her. She knows him as well as he does her and she aches; she might never know anyone so truly, so purely ever again. Her bond with Oz is all the more special for the fact that it owes nothing to the forces of the supernatural that have fashioned the links of her chain to Angel. It will be one more thing to miss, one more thing to mourn.

She can’t think about any of that.

It’s now or never. She pushes the door open and Oz follows her into the library. Three pairs of eyes are fixed on her immediately.

“Willow, where have you been?” Buffy’s voice has to be the first she hears. Willow almost turns and runs.

Oz shushes them before another word can be spoken.

“You guys might wanna just sit down and listen, okay?”

They look confused and a bit taken aback, but they do as they’re asked and Willow is grateful. She has just enough strength to choke out her fictionalized version of what happened the day before yesterday, she doesn’t have it in her to try to keep her friends quiet enough to hear her out. Thank whatever power might still give a damn about her that, for now, she has Oz.

“Are you sure you can do this, Willow?” Oz’s voice is soft, but loud enough for the others to hear and they are itching to ask questions. They stay obediently silent, though. Perhaps it’s the look of growing fear on Giles’ face. He has a sense that this is something he doesn’t want to hear. Too little, too late, Willow thinks bitterly, but that selfish moment passes: Giles, after all, really isn’t her father and it’s not fair to expect him to have instincts that her real parents don’t have a trace of themselves.

“Yeah. I can.” She manages to take his hand and squeeze it gently before letting it go as she sits in a chair facing her friends. Somehow they have all wound up facing her on one side. It’s more than a bit intimidating and she wonders if this is anything like what the people called before HUAC or the Inquisition went through.

She can’t believe the ludicrous thoughts she’s having. Maybe she is going mad. She rouses herself and begins to tell her story.

“I...there’s a reason I have been absent the last two days.”

Xander, this time, is the one whose mouth opens to speak, but a quick gesture of Oz’s hand and the closest thing she’s ever seen to a death glare from her easygoing boyfriend stop him before so much as a sound emerges.

She’s grateful, but it doesn’t make it any easier to say what comes next. Her voice goes hoarse and she almost can’t get the words out. “I was walking to school, just like always, only I was late and I took a different route trying to get here faster and...and...I was raped.”

“Oh my God!”

“Who was it?”

“Oh my God!”

In other circumstances, it would be funny that Buffy and Giles had the exact same reaction, but nothing is funny right now, or at least it shouldn’t be. She’s struggling to keep hysteria at bay, to stop anything that might bring her nearer to the fate suffered by Angel’s one-time obsession.

Xander is around the table in a flash and Oz quickly gets between them.

“She’s not so big on the whole touching thing right now.”

“Will?” His voice is choked with emotion and Willow is...angry. Suddenly, before she’s even finished telling her story, it’s about him, about his need to be a hero and comfort her. Or maybe she’s being unfair and she’s reading something into his behaviour that isn’t really there. She doesn’t know. She just knows that this is harder then she thought it would be and it feels different than she thought it would. Why did she ever think this was a good idea?

She looks at Oz with all the pleading she can muster. Once again, he doesn’t fail her.

“Sit back down, guys, okay?”

Once again, they obey, though more reluctantly than before and a bit resentfully as well. Xander and Buffy both seem to be taking umbrage at Oz knowing before them. Great. Her perception was on target: this is already about them.

“Do you know who it was?”

“Was it someone from school?”

“Was it a demon?”

“Have you called the police?”

“Your mom and dad?”

“Have you seen a doctor”

“Are you okay?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“We could have done something, gone after the guy.”

Oz is far angrier and more frustrated at the gang’s behaviour than Willow is. For some reason, she is coming to understand why they’re asking these questions and the fear and pain that are making them act so insensitively: they feel helpless...and guilty, and they have no idea what to do or say. She was wrong, it really is about her and she feels almost guilty for doubting them. Their hearts are in the right place. Oz, however, is not nearly as tolerant.

“Look, Willow doesn’t know who did it and no, she doesn’t want to go to the police.” The hand gesture strikes again as it looks like Giles wants to be the one to speak up in opposition to her wishes. “This happened to Willow, not you, and it’s nobody else’s business to tell her what choices she should make. She’s been to the doctor and she’s told you what happened and that’s it. She’s not up to twenty questions and she doesn’t need you guys telling her what to do.” He pats her hand gently, the look in his eyes telling her that she can leave whenever she likes. He’s obviously ready to leave right now.

She gets up, but stays standing by the chair. Oz’s support, his unconsciously taking on the burden of the resentment and anger she now doesn’t have to carry, has emboldened her. There is finally something she can say.

“I know you guys mean well. And I know you love me and all this is just about wanting to help and fix things and somehow make it go away. But you can’t help and you can’t make it go away. I was raped. It happened and it’s horrible and there’s nothing you can do to take away any of my pain. Forget anything you’ve read in books or magazines or seen on talk shows, okay? I don’t want to open up or share or any of that junk they tell you is healing or something. It isn’t, at least not for me. I just want to be alone...please? Just let me be by myself for awhile.”

Surprisingly, at least to Willow, it’s Xander whose voice she hears behind the soft “okay” that is the first response to her speech.

“Thank you, Xander.” She’s almost in tears - they are, in fact, swimming in her eyes. At this precise moment in time she feels as close to him as in the days before Jesse died, feels that he cares as much as in the days before Buffy’s arrival and his lust for Cordelia drove a wedge between them.

“Just...if there’s anything...”

“I know. Just give me some time, okay?”

“Anything, Will, anything.”

“Thanks.”

“Yes, Willow, what Xander said. If there’s anything, anything at all.”

“Thanks, Giles.”

Buffy seems to want to ignore Oz’s admonition about touching and moves to hug Willow, but she remembers in time and contents herself with a tearful pat on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Will...I just...I’m the Slayer and I can’t even save my best friend.”

“There’s some things you just can’t slay, Buffy.” That, Willow realizes, is more true than she’d thought as she said the words. She needs to leave - now. Before her feelings about Buffy get complicated again. That is something she prefers to bear privately, if she must bear it at all.

“I’d appreciate it if...”

“Don’t worry. It’s just between us. Right, guys?” Buffy turns to the others and Willow is relieved to see them nod their agreement. Somehow she believes them and is glad that she won’t have to deal with Cordelia or Faith knowing her shame. There’s some small, safe place in her world.

“Can you take me home now?” She’s tired now and she really does long for solitude. This has been all the conversation she can bear for today.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Oz is once again a gentleman, walking at the perfect distance behind her.

“Later,” he turns and says as they head for the doors. Willow says nothing, lost in thought. She is overwhelmed by the plans she has to make tonight, the horrible way she will have to repay all the kindness Oz has done for her this very day alone. But it can’t be helped.

This afternoon has in some twisted way been a pleasant dream, a dream in which she can walk freely with Oz at her side. But she knows the truth. Her rapist may not be the anonymous and inviolate human she told her friends about, but he is still out of their power to defend her from. Xander and Giles would be worse than useless against Angel, she’s not nearly foolish enough to think that Buffy would be able to kill her one true love a second time (even if she were willing to believe he had brutally assaulted her best friend), and Oz, werewolf though he is, would be no match for Angel’s strength and cunning. So it’s up to her to do for Oz what her prevarication has already done for the others: keep him safe. Tomorrow, without fail, she will find a way to let him go.


Tbc...