The Soulmate Series

Father's Day (Chapter Twenty-Four of Soulmates)

The library used to be a wonderful place, the one place in the world where Willow felt she belonged, and where, for once, she was at the top of the food chain. Not now. Now it’s just another room: a room where she goes through the motions, where she has to endure the company of people she’s lying to every second of every minute of every hour of every day.

“Anything, Will?” Xander’s stopped gazing into Cordelia’s eyes long enough to pretend to care about the research they’re all supposed to be doing but that only Willow and Giles actually are.

“No, Xander. No suspicious deaths. Seems like everything’s been pretty quiet and un-demon-y lately.”

Looks like maybe she is done with the computer for the night. Good. That means she can go home - home to her empty house and another hot shower that will never make her feel clean and food that maybe this time she’ll keep down and a bed where she can toss and turn in search of the elusive dream of sleep. At least she’ll be alone, though. The ghosts are gone.

“Well, I’d like to say that’s a relief, but...”

“You just can’t see the good in anything that doesn’t end with an apocalypse, right?”

The Giles and Buffy show. It used to make Willow happy, it used to make her laugh. Now it’s just a buzzing in her ears, an obstacle in the path of her getting out of here right-this-very-minute. Can’t they just skip it and get to the part where Giles stutters and tells her it’s all right for her to go home?

“Anything going on?”

Why couldn’t she have already walked out a moment earlier? The voice she least wants to hear is echoing through her and she’s afraid that if she makes a fuss about leaving now, she’ll arouse suspicion. Paranoia? Probably, but even she can’t blame herself. There are so many things to fear.

She doesn’t want to, but she turns away from the computer screen and towards the man who has just entered the library: Angel.

“Nope. No new big bads and the world seems like it might not be ending for awhile. Which is good because I’d kinda like to keep enjoying my Christmas vacation.” Buffy’s attitude is flip and breezy as always.

Willow is torn between envy and contempt for her best friend’s world view, a view predicated on a certainty that she can defeat anything she comes up against. Perhaps she’s forgotten that she’s already failed on one score, and more spectacularly than she will ever know.

Uncharitable, Willow chides herself, but it doesn’t change the fact that underneath it all a part of her deeply resents her friends for the fact that their lives have gone on. Willow’s never will. It isn’t fair.

“Willow, are you alright? Are you worn down? Should you be going home?” Giles has obviously noticed her sadness and it’s all she can do to keep the tears from falling. She’s learned to be grateful for the small things, which somehow don’t seem small to her now. Maybe they never did. It hurts and it doesn’t to realize she’d have been just as grateful for this consideration before Angel ever touched her.

“I don’t see why Willow always gets to leave before we do these days. We’re all tired.” Cordelia’s grumbling in a low voice, but not low enough to escape notice. Not that Willow thinks for a moment that she doesn’t wish to be heard. Oddly, the words give her a rush of happiness. They make it clear that, after all this time, Xander still hasn’t betrayed her confidence, still hasn’t told his girlfriend that Willow was raped. That’s a very big thing and Willow cradles it in her heart. It makes her realize more than ever that, despite the terrible lie he told Buffy, the lie that did so much damage, he’s her friend. She has to forgive him. She does.

But it’s not Xander who comes to her defense and Willow’s joy fades. “She has Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Cordelia. Maybe you should open a book and look it up. She’s not ‘tired’, she’s sick.”

The normally unflappable Cordelia is knocked back by the unexpected and harsh rebuke and even Buffy seems stunned by the sharpness of Angel’s tone. Xander looks like a deer in the headlights and opts not to say anything, just keeping his nose in the book he’s not actually reading.

There’s a glimmer of something in the shadow that crosses Giles’ face, but it’s gone before Willow can make sense of it. “He’s quite right, Cordelia. You know Willow’s ill. I should think even you could manage to remember that and, if it’s not a strain, show a bit of compassion.”

It’s a shock to hear Giles defend her so vigorously. She wonders if he would be like this if she really did suffer from CFS, but she supposes that’s not important. What matters is that he cares at all. In a world gone black, every ray of light is precious.

“Yeah, Cordelia. It’s not like Willow’s trying to duck research or anything. She’ll be going home to sleep, not sneaking off to the Bronze.” Willow waits for the reference to what a geek she is, but it never comes. She could hug Buffy for that.

“I didn’t mean...”

“Yeah, you did.” Angel again, hard and cold. Willow doesn’t look at him. Is he trying to arouse suspicion?

A part of her almost hopes her friends do tumble to the truth. If they discover what happened - if they stake Angel - all without her involvement...wouldn’t that be the best of all possible worlds? He might well have saved her life a few nights ago, but without him, it would never have needed saving to begin with (without him, it might have been worth saving).

But she worries. What might happen to the bond when he is dust? Is it possible that her soul could be harmed...even lost? If he returns to Hell, will she experience it along with him, even more than she did before?

It’s all academic however. A look at Buffy’s face shows the puzzlement fading; she’s come up with her own explanations, ones no doubt much along the lines of Angel defending her best friend because he’s a good guy like that, and because he still loves Buffy so very much. It’s funny how Willow doesn’t resent that. But she doesn’t. Buffy loves Angel with everything she is, and she needs to believe in that love no matter what. Willow can’t hate her for that, though she thinks maybe she should.

Xander, of course, can’t get past the tug-of-war between defending his girl friend and standing by Willow far enough to even think about what Angel’s attitude might mean. Which is ultimately six of one, half a dozen of the other since Willow’s pretty sure he’d get caught up in his hatred of Angel if he did get past his current conundrum.

Giles, well, Giles just looks scholarly and thoughtful and Willow’s not sure whether that has anything to do with what’s going on right now or not. Giles so often leaves their conversations behind to travel in the arcane confines of his own mind, pondering topics having nothing to do with the petty (or even not so petty) dramas of his teenaged charges. He seems less than desirous of thinking about human interaction. He’s always been like that - except when he was with Jenny. That thought makes Willow sad. She wonders what would happen if he knew that he and Willow have so much in common: both have had their lives destroyed by the very same vampire, though each by a different incarnation.

One thing she can’t help but consider - what would Oz think if he were here? Would he notice anything? She wishes there were a way to know, but then again maybe she doesn’t. She’s not sure how she would handle it if he sensed something. She’s even less sure how she would handle it if he didn’t.

Her silence garners notice, and from the one she thought was paying the least attention. “Are you alright, Willow? I hope this hasn’t upset you.” She’s surprised when Giles glares at Cordelia. It’s moving in a way that nearly brings her to tears. He may be angry at the (mostly) wrong person, but he’s angry on her behalf and that’s meaningful. “Why don’t I drive you home?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a look of almost-rage on Angel’s face. She knows he was going to offer to walk her, to trap her into agreeing to suffer his company. He doesn’t seem to realize that the snow has melted.

She feels almost impossibly grateful to Giles. He’ll never know how much she loves him for this small mercy. She’s not foolish enough to think she can avoid Angel forever, or even past tonight, but she can get away from him now - that is more than enough to gladden her heart.

In an exaggerated and awkward fashion, Giles makes a point of helping her up from her chair. He’s really overdoing it and Willow nearly cries. It’s, once again, so touching. For a moment she almost believes he’s the doting father she wishes he was. “Do you need me to carry your things?” His solicitude is genuine, even if it’s been prompted by the attack by Cordelia; she can see the concern in his eyes. Maybe he really has convinced himself that she’s ill after all. Willow can understand that; she’d prefer CFS to rape herself.

“No, Giles. It’s okay. But thank you.” She smiles at him and he smiles back. She can feel the jealousy radiating from Angel. The bond is there and she can’t escape it.

She adapts to Giles’ drama and hoists her bag in an effortful fashion, lets him hover as they walk out of the library. She can hardly wait to be free of the oppressive swell of Angel’s emotions. Even with Buffy there, he radiates a passion for her that she’s almost amazed Buffy herself can’t feel. She hates him with a force she’s surprised doesn’t blow him apart.

As soon as the doors swing shut behind them, the library erupts. Cordelia is loudest, but Angel’s voice is part of the din. Buffy’s voice is actually nearest in volume to Cordelia’s though, and it’s obvious they’re about to have quite a row. Maybe it’s horrible, but she’s almost happy that Buffy’s so clearly ready to fight this battle for her. Her friends may not have always been perfect, may not always have been there the way she wanted before, but now, when things have gone so terribly, frighteningly wrong for her, they are there and they do care.

Would they, though, if they knew the truth?

Why think about that now? She’s just going to live in these moments, moments where her not-really-but-oh-how-she-wishes-he-was-her-father is driving her home. After all, the Citroen is painfully slow-moving, giving her so many moments to live in.

A few of those moments pass before Giles speaks. “I’m afraid Cordelia is rather tactless. I’m sure she just spoke without thinking.”

“And that would be different, because...?” Willow is stunned as she realizes what she’s just done. She’s made a joke. The first one since... That’s the push that sends her over the edge. Without warning she bursts into tears.

Giles pulls over to the side of the road and stops the car. “What’s the matter, Willow? Did I say something to upset you?”

“It’s just...I haven’t...not since...” She’s blubbering and almost incoherent. Giles is patting her shoulder in his uncomfortable way and that seems to make her bawl even louder. It’s a long minute before she can speak intelligibly. “That’s the first time I’ve, you know, said anything even sort of funny since...you know? I guess it’s just kind of overwhelming. You don’t realize how much you’ve changed until you see that maybe you haven’t, you know what I mean?”

Silence for a moment and then Giles’ face gets a sad, faraway look. Her observation, nonsensical as she’s afraid it sounded, seems to have struck a chord with him. “Yes, yes, I know what you mean.” His voice drifts off slightly at the end. There are a world of memories in his eyes. How selfish she’s been to think she’s the only one bearing a burden of pain.

She hugs him; it feels like the right thing to do. One more first for her tonight and she’s surprised that she’s okay with this. Almost as surprising, though months ago it would have been more, is the fact that Giles is okay with it, too. He’s even hugging her back, his embrace almost fierce in its intensity. She’s back to sobbing again, even wailing, and he’s murmuring soothingly to her. She can’t make out the words through her cries, but his voice is comforting and that’s really the point, isn’t it?

Once again, she gets herself under control and they release each other. She misses being held for a second or two and then she doesn’t. It was enough, she thinks, for a start, and she’s kind of comfortable being back in her own space.

And then she’s not. She’s never comfortable for long anymore.

Giles starts the car again and pulls back onto the road, silent again as he drives. Once in awhile he reaches over and pats her on the shoulder. It’s nice.

At last they are back at her house. Her empty house. The only light on is the one she left on in her bedroom. Her parents are still not back from whatever the latest trip they’re on has taken them to, not that she’s surprised by that. Giles is, though Willow wonders why. She guesses he’s never noticed before just how absentee her absentee family really is.

“Will you be alright on your own?”

“Oh yeah, I’m used to it. Really.” She tries for chipper and spunky. Maybe she’s pulled it off.

Then Giles says something odd. Apropos of nothing. Or maybe apropos of everything. “There’s more to what happened than you’ve told us.” He’s not asking her; he’s telling her. But he doesn’t know and Willow’s convinced she can still get safely out of this.

“Of course there is.” Her voice is filled with outrage: some of it real, some of it dramatized, all of it about escape. “You think what? That I’m gonna just pour out all the details? I can’t bear to even think about them, but you expect me to sit down and give you a play by play? Do you actually want that?” She looks at him as if he’s sick, as if he has some dark motive. Later, she’ll hate herself for that. Now, it’s all about holding fast to her secrets.

It works. He’s got a look of guilt that she’s never seen on Angel. It’s so pure that it almost steals her breath. She’ll hate herself even more for putting that look there when she’s alone with nothing but her thoughts for company.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, I...”

“It’s okay, Giles. I’m the one who’s sorry. I know you didn’t mean...”

“No need to apologize. You had every right...”

“No, really, I shouldn’t have...”

Between the two of them, not a fractured sentence finds the legs to limp to the finish. It’s almost funny, but Willow’s not laughing and she knows she won’t later either. There’s too much self-hate waiting for her.

“Yeah, well, I better go in, huh?” Giles nods and mumbles something that sounds like agreement, so Willow opens her car door. She is about to get out when he speaks again.

“Willow, I don’t mean to give you something else to worry about and perhaps it’s nothing, after all, I’m hardly unbiased on this subject, but...” Giles is tangled in his words and Willow’s curiosity is piqued.

“What is it?”

“It’s just... Have you noticed anything different about Angel? Since his return I mean.” Oh no. Breathe, Willow, breathe. You can make this go away. He doesn’t know, he can’t know, and you’re not going to tell him.

“What do you mean?” It’s working; the wide, guileless eyes, the innocent tone of voice, it’s all working. “Different how?”

“It’s just...I have seen...I’m not sure. It’s just that, like today in the library, he seems...toward you...”

Willow takes advantage of his pause to throw up a roadblock. “I haven’t noticed anything.”

“Oh.” Giles looks perplexed and discomfitted. “Well, I’m sure it’s nothing. In the absence of anything demonic or prophetic to worry about, perhaps I’ve begun creating trouble where there isn’t any.”

“We are unexpectedly crisis-free lately.” Nice work, Willow. Impending doom no longer impending.

There’s a long pause and she swings her legs out of the car..

“Bye, Giles. Thanks for the ride.”

“Take care of yourself, Willow. Call me if... if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

She gets out and then grabs her bag. Giles still looks reflective as she turns away and walks towards her door. Just as she gets there, she hears the car pull away at last. She wonders for a moment: Would it really be so terrible if he knew? Will he figure it out on his own? What will happen to her if he does?

So much she will worry about tonight, that’s for certain. She almost wishes she’d stayed at the library, Angel’s odious presence notwithstanding. There are no distractions here, no others to engage her and keep her mind off what it insists on obsessing over. Tonight will be a terrible, sleepless night.

Tbc...