Boats Against the Current

Boats Against the Current (Chapter Two)

It was 9 A.M. Any minute now, Buffy, Giles, Xander, and Anya would be arriving here at the house and they could get the lowdown on what had really been going on in Sunnydale while Willow was away.

Spike and Cordelia were uncharacteristically subdued. He understood the reason for Spike’s reserve, but Cordelia had him baffled. She had spent an inordinate amount of time on her appearance this morning, even for her, and she was sitting at the edge of her chair, nervously clenching and unclenching her hands, not saying a word.

No more time to ponder the vagaries of seers. Willow was coming in from the kitchen.

“Hey, guys. Just moved the car into the garage. I think a Mercedes would be a little too tough to explain away.” She gave Angel a baleful look. Not this again. He’d fought her tooth and nail about the car. The mate of a master vampire was not going to drive around in a Toyota. Other demons would think he didn’t take care of what was his. While a part of him admired her lack of pretension, he wasn’t going to give in to it when it came to supporting her in proper style. That was that.

“You could always say the car belongs to Peaches.” Spike to the rescue.

“And Angel is so the type to have two cars. Hello? I’m pretty sure Buffy will remember the convertible.” Cordelia couldn’t resist the opportunity to take sides against Spike, even if it also meant taking sides against her boss.

“Enough,” Angel said, not wanting a fight to break out that might upset Willow. “They’ll be here any minute and it would help if we acted like the professionals we’re supposed to be.”

He meant it, too. He wanted nothing more than to show off the skills of his crew, to show that he’d turned the people Giles had taken for granted into a crack team that put Xander and Giles and - yes - Buffy to shame.

Maybe Wesley wasn’t the only one with lingering issues.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. It had to be Giles, either by himself or with the others in tow. There wasn’t the slightest chance that Buffy and Xander had acquired the manners to suddenly start waiting before opening the door to the home of someone they knew even casually.

Willow glanced at him anxiously. He knew how hard this was for her. She loved these people and it was hard for her to see them while keeping secrets. No amount of affection and reassurance could stop her from feeling guilty.

A moment later, she got up and went to the door. Angel had been right; Giles was there. He walked in, followed closely by Buffy and Xander and a petite, hard-faced brunette Angel vaguely remembered. Ah yes, it was Anya, former vengeance demon and currently Xander Harris’s mattress toy. All he remembered about her was a lot of whining and a less than remorseful attitude about her former exploits.

Xander immediately pulled Willow into a hug and Angel stifled a growl. “It’s great to see you, Will.”

“It’s great to see you, too.” She gave him a toothy grin. Her affection for the useless boy left Angel baffled, but there was nothing he could do about it. Willow was a soft-hearted creature and that came with baggage - baggage he was just going to have to put up with.

Xander let her go – not soon enough for Angel’s liking – and Willow was immediately grabbed by Buffy.

“Wills! I missed you!”

“I missed you, too.”

Buffy let her go in turn and Anya made no move to show any affection. Not terribly surprising given what Willow had told him about their relationship. Giles, of course, was too reserved for physical displays.

His ex-lover seemed to just notice his presence. Her face clouded over and got that pained look which he was starting to see as a bit of a cliché. She had a new boyfriend. Wasn’t it about time she gave up the ghost?

“Angel, how nice it isn’t to see you.” Thanks, Xander. Good to know you still have that amazing non-gift of repartee.

“Harris.” Angel had no intention of pretending to like the boy just because Willow insisted on clinging to him as a ridiculous souvenir of bygone days.

“So, is there a reason we have to be here? Because Xander’s missing work, which means he’s not getting paid, which means…”

“Yes, Anya. We’re quite well aware. And yes, this is very important.” Giles sounded exasperated but resigned.

Angel couldn’t believe the man put up with this. The first sentence out of Anya’s mouth told Angel he wouldn’t put up with her for two minutes if she were dating someone who worked for him. In fact, he had no intention of putting up with her now. “If you’d like to leave, I’m sure we can deal with the dangers to Sunnydale without you. There’s the door. I assume you know your way home.”

Willow’s mouth hung open, Spike didn’t bother to hide his smirk, and Anya looked at Xander as if she were waiting for him to pull out a stake or something. Luckily, the boy knew better.

“If you’re staying, sit down.” The ‘and shut up’ was clearly implied and Anya was fuming. She did, however, do as she was told.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for Xander. “Who died and named you the boss, Deadboy?”

“Well at least Angel’s a real demon, unlike your girlfriend.” Angel was surprised for a moment at the venom in Cordelia’s voice. But then everything started to make sense. The extra effort to look her best, the nerves… Well, make that one more person with lingering issues about Sunnydale. He felt a pang for Doyle. His friend had been so far superior to Xander Harris.

“Can we just try and get along. Please?” Willow hated discord and Angel slightly regretted having created any. Still, he was not going to sit back and let the Sunnydale gang run the show. It was his seer, after all, who’d been sent visions, his help the PTB had solicited.

“Yes. I don’t think there’s anything to be gained by bickering amongst ourselves.” Giles at least knew how to be the voice of reason. Mild, treacly reason, but reason, nonetheless.

“So what was the vision?” Buffy was heard from at last. He could tell by her expression that she was discomfited by the fact that he wasn’t gazing at her with restrained longing. She would have to accept that he was over her soon enough; may as well start the process now. He was willing to go along with concealing his relationship with Willow, but he had no intention of pretending he still carried a torch for Buffy.

“I saw this laboratory and there were all these demons in it and…”

“That’s it? That’s what you saw?” Buffy snorted condescendingly at Cordelia. Angel could tell that she was almost enjoying the chance to put Cordelia down.

“She also got something that reminded her of Darryl. You remember? The guy who wanted to make himself a bride using Cordelia’s head?” Willow to the rescue. Angel fought to keep from smiling at her.

Buffy, however, had gone a bit white. “That must be Adam. Maybe you guys were sent here for a reason after all.”

“Gee, Buffy, thanks heaps.” Cordelia looked offended, as she had a right to be. Angel himself was rather affronted by Buffy’s superior attitude.

“Who’s Adam?” Willow asked helpfully.

“He’s a creature Walsh made out of various demon parts. He’s…very dangerous.”

“How so?” Angel needed to get as much information as he could. The longer he was here, the more he wanted to just get the job done and go home.

“I could barely fight him. He batted me around like a rag doll. Riley couldn’t even get a punch in.”

“I didn’t do too well against him either,” Xander chimed in, rather unnecessarily. If he had been Xander, he wouldn’t be admitting to having been anywhere near the creature; the visions the boy’s statement brought up were comical.

Anya patted her boyfriend’s arm, then tucked hers around it. Seemed like the wagons were circling.

“I can see why we were sent here then. Obviously this isn’t something you can handle by yourselves.” Buffy was staring at him curiously, neither understanding nor appreciating his no-nonsense attitude. Tough. “I’m thinking we need to find this Walsh person and get her to tell us what exactly this thing she created is.”

“That might be a little bit difficult.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s dead.”

Well, that was a bit of a stumbling block. But not insurmountable.

“Don’t expect me to send flowers to the bitch’s funeral.” Angel rather agreed with Spike on that one. They might not have a close relationship in the human sense, had even tried to kill each other on occasion, but Spike was his childe and Angel was bent on exacting retribution for the barbarous torture inflicted on him.

“I’m sure Willow can find something for us on the computer,” Cordelia chimed in.

“I can try.” Willow sounded worried, and Angel understood. There was an undercurrent of hurt, as well. He knew how much it must pain her that her friends had told her none of this until this morning, had not even reached out to her for help.

Even now, Angel was sure they were getting an edited version, though he was pretty well convinced they were getting what mattered.

“Was there anything else you saw, Cordelia?” Giles asked. Angel shot the seer a look. For some reason, call it instinct, he felt they should hold back on that second vision.

Luckily, for once, Cordelia was quick on the uptake. “No, that was it. And believe me, the headache it gave me? More than enough, too.”

“So, Cordy, how’s the seer thing treating you?” Xander asked. “Do you get advance knowledge of upcoming sales or anything?”

Angel decided to step in this time. Not so much to defend Cordelia, but to defend Doyle. It had been his gift first. “It’s not a joke, Xander. Cordelia has a gift from the Powers That Be. A gift that was passed on to her by my closest friend…right before he died.”

That shut the moron up, and good thing.

Willow’s eyes met his and he drew comfort from the love he could see in them. Thinking of Doyle still hurt and he was grateful for her understanding. She’d been there for him from the moment he’d called her.

But just as soon as she looked at him, she looked away, obviously afraid that one of her friends would figure out that Angel was more than just her friend and employer.

The silence grew more and more awkward, no one quite knowing what to say or how to say it. In a way, he was glad. That meant the Sunnydale gang was intimidated. But on the other hand, it would make working together more challenging, and it was obviously distressing Willow, who badly wanted her friends’ approval and affection.

“I think we should give Willow some time to get online and see what she can find and then have another meeting to see what we can do. Whatever this creature is, he’s obviously a real threat.” Angel turned to Buffy. “How did Walsh die?” He had a hunch he knew the answer, but asking would help break down the wall that was forming.

“My money’s on Adam. Part of him came from a Polgara demon and that’s what the wounds looked like.”

“Polgaras are dumber than Fyarl demons, so my guess is that’s not where his head came from.” Spike was right about the stupidity, though the Fyarl reference seemed odd until Angel remembered something – that was the demon Giles had been turned into.

“No, Spike, it was his arm, actually.” Buffy obviously took umbrage at the implied insult to her Watcher. “I think we need to bring Riley in on this.”

“What?” Amazingly, it wasn’t just Angel and his crew who were aghast at Buffy’s suggestion. Xander and Giles didn’t seem too thrilled with the idea either.

“Buffy, are you quite sure? There are members of the Initiative who believe you are to blame for Walsh’s death and we’re not entirely certain where Riley’s loyalties lie. You yourself said he’s been acting strangely.”

“Giles, he’s the best source of information we have. And I trust him.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve never been the subject of one of his experiments, now have you, Slayer?”

Angel decided to let Spike do the objecting. Any words of protest spoken by him would be misconstrued by Buffy as stemming from a still-smoldering torch.

“I know he’s your boyfriend and all, Buffy,” Willow said in a conciliatory manner, “But are we sure he’ll be okay working with not-quite humans? I mean, he’s bound to remember Spike, and then there’s Angel, and Anya, and…well…me.”

“Will, you’re human, remember?” Buffy looked at her strangely.

“Yeah, but I do magic and stuff and…” Her voice trailed off. She obviously did not want to mention the fact that she wore Angel’s mark.

“I don’t think a few spells make you a supernatural creature.”

Heedless of what impression he might create, Angel leapt in. “She’s done more than a few spells, Buffy. She restored my soul, for one thing, and she uses magic all the time now. Wesley says she has more potential than anyone he’s ever seen.”

Buffy seemed suitably chastened. But Giles was the one who was giving Willow a searching look, his eyes narrowing and his brow creased in thought. Maybe he was finally seeing… Well, tough luck. Because she was Angel’s now and she was never going to be a Scooby again.

“Perhaps we should let Willow do some research and meet again tonight.”

“But what about catching up? I haven’t seen my bestest bud in weeks,” Xander whined.

“Xander, I think you should just let Willow do her job. After all, she gets paid for it.” Anya’s expression had gone unattractively sullen and sour. She was obviously eager to get her boyfriend out of there. This would probably be the only moment in time when Angel and Anya were on the same page.

“Besides, it’s not like we can do much before nightfall. Spike and I will head to Willie’s later and see what we can hear through the demon grapevine.”

“I’ve already been there, Angel. Willie doesn’t know anything,” Buffy sniped.

“No offense, Buffy, but I think the demons will be more forthcoming with their own kind.” Buffy, Giles, and even Xander looked stunned. None of them were accustomed to Angel so frankly acknowledging what he was. He'd almost forgotten how much his relationship with Willow had changed him


“Yes, well, that sounds like an excellent plan. We should all be going now.” He knew that Giles was going to be ruminating on his behaviour; the man had always considered his nature an epistemological puzzle. “I think we should reconvene this meeting at my home shortly after sundown.”

“No. Make it seven. That will give Spike and I chance to nose around at Willie’s first.”

“Seven it is.” Giles looked rather unsettled at having been so casually relegated to a lower place on the chain of command, not that Angel actually gave a tinker’s dam.

Buffy was too distrait to voice any objections. Now there was a first. There had been a time, seemingly eons ago, when his ability to discombobulate her so easily would have fed his ego. Today was not that time. They needed a Slayer at the top of her game and, more importantly, he didn’t need to be part of an imaginary love triangle which included a sadistic commando with a penchant for maiming and brutalizing his kind.

“Well, Xander, today won’t be a total loss. Since you’ve taken the day off work, you can stay home and give me orgasms.”

Xander’s expression was as close to total humiliation as he’d ever seen on him, but the boy said nothing. Angel was appalled. There was a word for women who spoke that way in mixed company, and it wasn’t a complimentary one. Since Buffy and Giles merely rolled their eyes, he decided to let her offensive behaviour pass.

A few mumbled pleasantries by way of goodbye were all that stood in the way of the closing of the door behind their departing visitors and those were soon dispensed with. The living room soon contained no one but himself, Willow, Spike, and Cordelia.

“Well, that was sure a delightful reunion,” Cordelia said in a voice which dripped with enough sarcasm to stain the carpeting.

“Oh, I don’t know. It was almost worth the price of admission to see the Slayer get taken down a few pegs. Gotta say, Peaches, it was a treat watching her face get that heartbroken look when you didn’t moon over her like a fanged puppy.”

“Spike,” he admonished, not wanting his childe’s words to augment Willow’s guilt.

Spike turned to Willow, obviously picking up on just what Angel objected to in his words. “Sorry, Red.”

“It’s okay,” she said, though it clearly wasn’t.

“Did you hear what Anya said? How could Xander date a woman like that?”

“I don’t know that I’d call what they’re doing ‘dating’, ducks.”

“EWWW!”

“My feelings exactly, believe me. I was tied to a chair in the whelp’s basement until Willow let me stay here and I saw much more than I ever want to remember.” Spike shuddered dramatically for emphasis.

Angel stood outside the conversation, observing and noting what was said and how. It was obvious Cordelia had lingering feelings for Harris and that was not, to Angel’s mind, auspicious news. Not only because it was an insult to Doyle’s memory, but because it might interfere with her return to Los Angeles. She was his seer, but he didn’t have a great deal of faith in her understanding of the nature of duty and commitment right now.

There were other things to attend to, however, and far more important ones. Willow was lost in somber thought and it concerned him.

“Willow?” he said, hoping to rouse her from her brown study. “Why don’t we go upstairs and talk?”

Spike was about to make a remark, but held his tongue. Angel was glad of that as he wasn’t in the mood to remind the brat just who was in charge.

Cordelia said nothing, too caught up in fretting over her childhood swain, so Angel took Willow by the arm and guided her out of the room and upstairs for some privacy. He closed the door to her parents’ room and sat on the bed, patting the space next to him. She got the hint and sat beside him.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” She turned to him, her eyes wide and full of emotion, along with the beginnings of tears. “It’s not like I thought it would be, you know? I’ve hardly been gone and it’s already like I don’t belong here. I feel like an outsider and…” With that, the dam burst and she was in his arms, crying bitterly.

“Shhh…sweetheart, it’s alright. I’m sure it’s not like that.” He wasn’t sure if he was lying to her or not, but it was the only thing he could say. “Everyone’s just on edge right now, with Adam and everything.”

She kept crying; he wasn’t even sure she’d heard him. Just as well, he supposed. Better for her to just let it all out.

A few moments later, she sat up, struggling to regain her composure. “Angel?” she asked, her voice choked with the last of her sobs. “Are you okay?”

He wondered what brought that on. He didn’t have to inquire, however, as she answered him before the question could form on his tongue.

“I mean, you seemed really cold downstairs. Was that because you were worried about me being afraid of…” Her voice trailed off. He knew what she meant, but she was mistaken.

“I wasn’t cold, Willow. Just businesslike. You’re right, Buffy still has illusions and I have no interest in humouring her or nursing her through them. We’re here because of Cordelia’s visions, and that’s it. I know you feel differently, but I have no ties to this town.”

She stared for a moment, eyes like saucers; he could see the wheels turning behind them. “You mean that, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question, not really.

“Yes, I do.”

Did she understand the full meaning behind that truth? He wasn’t sure. If she did, she chose not to explore it further. Instead, she leaned in and kissed him.

He responded eagerly. She hadn’t made love to him last night, expressing trepidation at having sex in her parents’ room. All her misgivings seemed to have vanished today. She needed him. He needed her as well.

He untucked her t-shirt from her jeans and pulled it over her head, barely breaking their kiss even as he disrobed her. Her fingers made swift work of the buttons of his shirt as he unfastened and removed her bra.

The sight of her pale skin, the pink of her nipples contrasting against it so sharply, was still enough to make his mouth go dry. He had a feeling it always would. If her scent was any indication, she was equally aroused by him. They both stood to shuck their trousers and - in Willow’s case – underwear, then they were back on the bed.

His fingers confirmed her readiness and he didn’t bother with any further foreplay. He needed her, she needed him, and that was that. Within seconds he was inside her, her cry of pleasure swallowed up in his eager kiss.

He didn’t fully understand why they were both so intense and primitive with each other this time, but they were. It hadn’t been quite like this since their first time. Maybe being here in Sunnydale made them both insecure, both desperate. Whatever the reason, he pounded into her with a force that had her crying out in a mixture of pain and ecstasy, and she clung to him as if she never wanted him to stop. She met each thrust, her nails digging into his back. It wasn’t long before they both screamed in release.

Afterwards, he lay beside her, gazing at her face as she fell asleep.

He loved her.

It wasn’t a new revelation, but he wasn’t sure he’d realized how very much he loved Willow until now.

He got up and pulled on his trousers and shirt. He needed blood. Placing a kiss on Willow’s forehead, he left the room silently and headed for the kitchen.

Downstairs, Spike was barely awake on the sofa, grumbling sleepily about loud sires shagging and keeping human hours, then closing his eyes again. Angel wasn’t at all surprised to find that Cordelia was nowhere to be seen. He listened for her heartbeat but it wasn’t there. He assumed she’d gone for a walk. He’d worry if she wasn’t back soon, but not now.

He strode into the kitchen, got a bag of the blood he’d brought with him out of the fridge, and dumped it into a mug. Her microwave was a slightly different model than what he was used to, but he soon figured it out and shortly thereafter, he had a mug of warm blood in his hand. Sitting down, he quickly drank it.

Willow had called him cold and that nagged at him. Strangely though, it wasn’t the idea of being cold that worried him, but of Willow seeing him that way. Only yesterday, he’d pondered his own bent away from a multitude of warm attachments, his natural reticence and diffidence. It didn’t bother him. But did Willow understand that about him? Would it make her come to despise him? She was, after all, a girl whose heart warmed to nearly everyone, a girl to whom a stranger was a friend you hadn’t met yet.

His reverie was interrupted by footsteps entering the kitchen. Spike hadn’t fallen asleep after all.

“Peaches,” he said before heading for the fridge and getting a bag of blood for himself. “Would have thought you’d be upstairs sleeping. From what I could hear, you and Red just had quite a time. Managed to embarrass the silly cheerleader. She dashed out like hell was on her tail. I’m guessing she’s never had as good a seeing-to.” He’d filled a mug of his own and heated it while prattling on and was soon seated at the kitchen table across from Angel.

Angel wasn’t inclined to banter, so he refrained from commenting. Spike hadn’t insulted Willow or him, really, so no lines had been crossed.

Spike had no taste for quiet, so he kept on talking, but Angel only began attending to what was spoken when something Spike said was acute. “Guess you really are over the Slayer, aren’t you?”

“What?” Having not been paying attention, Angel wasn’t sure in what context this observation had been made.

“It was pretty obvious. Hell, if I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t think you’d ever fancied the silly chit at all.”

“It’s not that simple. I… I don’t know her, Spike. I’m starting to wonder if I ever did.”

“What brought this on?”

He stared, not sure if he wanted to open himself up this much. But it was too late now, or it seemed that way. “The Initiative. The girl I loved would never be with someone who could do what they do.”

Well, that shut Spike up. He looked utterly dumbfounded. Angel’s next words might kill him. He said them anyway. “I’m sorry about what they did to you.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, mate.” Spike sat silent for a moment, taking in everything, no doubt. Then he got up and took his mug to the sink. “This bonding thing? It was nice and all, but you know it doesn’t mean anything, right? I still hate you.”

“Me, too, Spike. Me, too.”


Tbc…