The Soulmate Series

Fireproof (Chapter Twenty-Five of Soulmates)


There’s trouble brewing. Angel’s been on edge for the last few days. Buffy’s mother, clueless bitch, has been on a rampage, claiming that witches are sacrificing children and menacing the town. She’s got an ever-growing band of followers and they seem determined to rid Sunnydale of evil - not that they actually know where to find it or what to do about it should they somehow stumble over it as they grope wildly in the dark. But they are fanatical and that’s always a danger. Why is it that, no matter what the era, zealots have always wrapped their cause in the cloak of saving children?

Funny thing about those sacrificial children, come to think of it. The two that everyone is up in arms about seem to have no names, no parents, no identities at all. After all the children whose parents have callously buried and forgotten them, why are the deaths of two who seem to have existed in Sunnydale only as corpses the catalyst for a concern that could have found a more appropriate outlet years ago and many times over?

Angel’s concerned. The anti-occult group seems to have even targeted the Slayer, the daughter of its founder, and he’s wondering what they have planned. Where will it end? What are they prepared to do to eradicate what they see as the forces of darkness?

It might be time for some reconnaissance. As long as he stays well out of Joyce’s way, he could skulk about a bit and get a line on what their agenda is.

Then it hits him. A wave of terror so intense that it nearly knocks him down. With the bond as far shut down as it is, Angel knows something horrible must be happening to Willow for him to feel it like this. It can’t be a coincidence. That thrice-damned whore, Joyce, must have fixed on Willow as being one of the “witches” responsible for killing those anonymous children.

Why, though? Angel knows for a fact that Willow has done no magic at all since his return and that what she did before consisted of little more than...the restoration. Buffy must have told her mother what Willow did. Damn her! If they have her, too, he’ll gladly leave her to whatever fate they have in store.

He opens the bond all the way, desperate for some clue as to what is happening to his love. Not for the first time does he wish that the bond was a telepathic as well as an empathic one. But no, all he can get from her is a fear so intense that he’s nearly weeping. Willow is in grave peril and he has no idea where she is or how to save her.

If she dies, he’ll burn all of Sunnydale to cinders before greeting the sunrise, he knows that for a fact.

But perhaps there’s a chance to save Willow after all. The door to the mansion bursts open and there in front of him, wild-eyed and disheveled, is Giles.

“Angel, we need your help. Buffy...the mob...they’ve taken her.”

“What about Willow?” He’s too desperate to worry about what Giles will think of his question, but he’s surprised when Giles isn’t surprised. In fact, the look on his face is a knowing one, quickly subsumed, however, by extreme anxiety.

“It appears they have her as well. We have to hurry, I have a spell that will unmask the demon behind this so it can be killed, but we need to stop the townspeople from killing the both of them before I can perform it. They’re at the City Hall.”

“I’m there.”

Out the door in a flash, he sees Giles’ Citroen idling, with Cordelia, of all people, sitting inside. Why on Earth she’s along for the ride, Angel has no idea, and frankly, he is questioning Giles’ judgement right now. Though, come to think of it, if he needs to toss someone to the mob as a distraction, Cordelia might be useful after all.

But the Citroen? There’s no possible way it will get there fast enough. Angel can do far better on his own. Vampiric speed and a knowledge of the tunnels will almost surely have him at City Hall long before Giles. He tells him as much.

“You take your car. I’ll head to the tunnels.”

“Angel.” Giles’ voice is serious. “When this is over, we need to talk.”

“We don’t have time for this right now.”

“No...of course not, I...”

That’s the last Angel hears before he’s gone. On his way to the demonic interstate, otherwise known as Sunnydale’s sewer system. Wide and spacious and well-designed for supernatural travelers of all shapes and sizes. Convenient, too - better than the Paris Metro, the London Underground, or the New York subway system at getting you where you need to go in a direct and timely fashion. At least if you’re a bit faster than a typical, or even atypical, mortal.

All the while he’s running, he’s tuned in to the connection he shares with Willow, trying as hard as he can to let her know that help is on the way. But he can tell his feelings - his love, his determination - are not getting through. She’s too overwhelmed by her own intense emotions. There’s terror, of course, but also betrayal and hopelessness. He picks up the pace, pushing himself to get there sooner, faster, and at last he’s there. Up through the trap door and now into the City Hall.

The door to the room where Willow and Buffy are being held is locked, but that’s hardly an impediment. Neither is the group of lummoxes who try to prevent him from breaking it down. One flash of golden eyes and sharp teeth is enough to send them running like scared rabbits. He’s in...and the sight that confronts him is more than enough to forestall the return of his human visage.

Willow is tied to a stake, surrounded by fire as her mother puts the torch to a heap of books piled high around her. He sees Buffy tied to a stake as well, and an inexplicably empty third stake beside her, but all he can focus on is Willow. She’s crying - the flames are licking at her clothes, her flesh - and Buffy is worse than useless, struggling against her bonds and appealing to her mother.

In a flash, Angel is pushing people aside as he heads for the stakes. He hears Giles and Cordelia enter at last, then the hiss of a hose as Cordelia sprays water and Giles begins awkwardly reciting a spell in German, but Angel’s not waiting. He’s drenched as Cordelia’s hose is aimed now at the fire threatening Willow, but he doesn’t care. His hands are shaking with relief and rage as he unties the knots that bind her, watching only out of habit from the corner of his eye as the demon is revealed. Buffy manages to stake it by sheer luck as she pulls up on the pole to which she’s tied and bends forward. There was a time when he’d have called that resourceful and admired it. Now he thinks of it as too little, too late and it does nothing to lessen the contempt and anger he feels for his former love.

Just as he’s done freeing Willow, there’s a loud crash behind him and he turns, ready to strike. But it’s only Xander and Oz, falling through the ceiling.

“We’re here to rescue you.”

He’d laugh if he weren’t nearly as terrified for Willow as he was when she was nearly immolated. She’s not reacting to his touch. While he’d like to rejoice in the fact that she’s not repulsed by his nearness, her emotions, or lack thereof, tell him it’s likely because she’s not even registering his presence. She’s so traumatized that even with the bond fully functioning, she doesn’t feel a thing. It’s all been too much for her and at last she is crumbling. There has to be something he can do.

“She’s in shock. Giles, give me your jacket.”

“Oh my God, Will. Are you okay? I’m sorry, this is all my fault. Willow, please be okay.”

Angel couldn’t agree with Buffy more, but he registers the eyes of Giles and Oz on him right now and looks affectingly at the girl he’s supposed to be pining for. He helps untie her, then takes her hand as she hovers with him over the best friend whose death she nearly caused with her inability to keep her damn mouth shut.

Giles finally hands over his jacket and Angel allows Buffy to help him wrap it around Willow. Oz is now standing beside them as well, and so is Xander. He’s worried what this crowding will do to Willow but she seems not to notice.

“We need to get her out of here.”

Angel feels a flicker of admiration for Oz right then, though as his rival, he’d still gut him without a second thought. Buffy, though, just has to delay things.

“Oh no! We have to find Amy.”

Who?

“Where is Amy?” That’s another good question, Giles.

“She turned herself into a rat right before you guys got here. We have to find her or she’ll be stuck that way.”

Good thing that Amy chooses that moment to let her curiosity lead her right to them. In a trice, Giles picks her up, his distaste for rodents obvious in the way his nose wrinkles as he holds her. Angel understands the sentiment. The rat who was once a witch brings back uncomfortable and degrading memories.

“Okay, guys, let’s go.” Oz again, and Angel is almost grateful. Giles looks less suspicious by the second.

“Wait a minute,” Buffy chimes in. What delay has she thought up now? Willow is still blank and cold and Angel knows they need to get her away from this place and fast. “Where are we going to take her?” A golden opportunity has just presented itself. Thanks, Buffy.

“Why don’t we take her to your apartment?” He’s addressing Giles. “Willow feels safe with you and I’m sure her parents won’t look for her there.” As much as he longs to take her home, to wrap her in blankets and hold her ‘til the clouds break and she’s Willow again, he knows that’s a pipe dream. This is the far more rational choice.

It’s clear that his words have Giles at a loss for a moment, but he recovers after appraising Angel with a glance. “Yes, yes, of course.”

“Oz, do you have a car?”

“Yeah, van. It’s parked out front.”

“Great, we’ll take that. The sooner we get Willow somewhere she can be comfortable and rest, the better. Giles, are you going to follow us, or...”

“Cordelia, could you please drive my car? Get yourself home? I will have someone bring me over to pick my car up tomorrow.”

“You want me to drive that junky old heap of yours? What if someone sees me?”

“Cordelia ” To Angel’s shock, the rebuke comes not from Giles, but from Xander. “Willow’s problems are a little bigger than your fear of social suicide, okay?”

“Fine. But I hope you know you owe me for this.”

No one is paying attention to her as she snatches the keys from Giles and huffs out, muttering under her breath in a way she’s obviously hoping they hear. What the hell does Xander see in that vain, shallow, selfish girl?

In the grand scheme of things, Xander’s appalling taste doesn’t matter. They’re all shepherding Willow out the door and straight into Oz’s van. They’re barely in it before Oz starts the engine and starts driving

All of them save Oz are in the back; Oz is driving with his eyes locked squarely on the rearview mirror. If anything depends on his eyes seeing the road, they are surely in trouble. Angel has allowed Xander and Buffy the luxury of holding Willow, of speaking to her soothingly, of trying to rouse her from her stupor.

Their efforts, however, seem entirely useless. Willow is still staring into nothingness and all his attempts to discern any feeling in her are coming up empty. He does his best to project all the love and compassion that he has for her, hoping some of it reaches her, touches her. Even making her angry would be better than this void.

It’s a relief when they reach Giles’ apartment. Awkwardly and with a certain amount of jostling, they all decamp from the van. Oz is the one who helps Willow out once all the rest of them are cleared. Angel’s calculating now, not letting his emotions rule his behaviour at what, even through all the turmoil, he can see is a critical juncture. Giles has been observing him, and even Oz seems a bit watchful, though Angel’s sure that, in his case, it’s free-floating concern and not specific disquiet about Angel.

Giles, still holding the rat, rushes to open the door of his apartment. He’s off to find some sort of container to put her in the moment they are in the door. Xander sets to fetching blankets immediately and Buffy and Oz soon have them wrapped around Willow. Once Amy is safely in a box, Giles puts a kettle on for tea. Still so British; tea is the answer to everything.

Willow is starting to come around. Angel is the first to sense the stirrings, though he reins in his reaction and keeps his expression nearly as blank as Willow’s. Her terror comes to the surface once more, then the betrayal and pain.

“Mom?”

“No, Willow, you’re safe now. We’ve got you.” Oz speaks softly, his arm around Willow as she sits beside him on the sofa; she begins to tremble and a tear runs down her cheek.

Angel reins in his emotions, but doesn’t pull back from their connection. His physical proximity to Willow allows him the luxury of staying close in that special way and he’s glad of it. There are no words to describe the jealous hatred he feels for Oz right now. It should be him, not that pathetic wolf, comforting Willow right now. But he can’t let her sense those feelings within him.

Buffy and Xander are kneeling on either side of her on the floor at her feet. There are tears in Buffy’s eyes.

“This is my fault. If I hadn’t told my mother...” Oz stops her with a look. Angel could almost thank him for that. He wonders if Buffy realizes how self-indulgent she is, how she can’t allow the focus to be off of her for longer than a minute or two. But she doesn’t. She has no idea what she’s doing. That alone is the reason he can forgive her.

“You’re here, with us, Will. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.” Xander’s voice breaks at the end and Angel is struck by how much it seems the boy cares.

Angel stays apart from them all, acting the part of the peripheral figure he’s supposed to be. Giles has been watching him from the kitchen and he can sense some confusion, but also a lessening of tension. Good thing, that. He decides to see what the man might have to say; he joins Giles in the kitchen.

“Hey.”

“Oh. Yes. Hello, Angel.”

“Need some help with that?” He nods toward the tea.

“No, I should be fine with it. But thank you.”

There doesn’t seem to be any chance for him to find out the exact nature of Giles’ worries right now and he’s not going to push. Pushing would only arouse suspicion.

“Willow seems to be doing better.” They both gaze at the girl on the sofa; she’s murmuring softly to her friends. Angel can feel her return to reality, but he’s not about to share that tidbit with Giles. The man’s a Watcher, let him watch and see.

“Yes, yes she does. She’s been through far too much lately.”

“Yeah, the CFS, now this.”

“Angel, this pretense is growing ridiculous. Xander might have, rather commendably, I might add, kept the truth a secret from Cordelia, but we both know that Buffy tells you everything. Surely you are not going to try to convince me that you don’t know what happened to Willow.”

Angel affects a somber expression. Not hard, since this does make him sad, just not for the same reasons as Giles. “Yes, I do. It’s just that...I know that I wasn’t one of the people Willow chose to confide in and...”

“Commendable discretion. But that brings up another matter.” Well, well. Angel was going to hear something after all. “I’ve noticed, or at least it’s seemed to me that...well...your attitude towards Willow has changed and...”

“She gave me back my soul. Of course my attitude has changed. I owe her, I owe her my life. I have a chance at redemption thanks to her.” Giles raises an eyebrow. He’s puzzled by something. “As you said, Buffy tells me everything.”

“Yes, yes of course, well that...well, I suppose that makes sense then.”

The wheels are turning behind Giles’ eyes, but they’re not necessarily turning all the way in the direction Angel would like. Still, he’s sure he’s at least partially allayed the man’s suspicions and, for now, that’s good enough. He will, however, need to exercise greater circumspection in the future.

Willow is recovering and happily, there’s not an overwhelming sense of hatred filtering to him through the bond. Perhaps she was aware enough at the time to realize that he was the one to rescue her. Next to her being alive and well, that’s the best thing to have happened tonight. As Angel follows the tea-bearing Giles back into the living room, he allows himself a bit of cautious optimism. Willow is safe and he’s going to win her over. He just needs to be careful, that’s all.

Tbc...