The Soulmate Series

Slingshots and Kings (Chapter Thirty-Seven of Soulmates)

Once again, Angel has to concede that Giles is no amateur magician. No white mice and pixie dust, that’s for sure. He’s got power, not to the degree that Angel felt from Willow the night she gave him back his soul, but power nonetheless. Snatching this dingy box from the Mayor’s clutches was almost childishly easy, and now, here it is, in the middle of the library, waiting to be destroyed with the nifty batch of magickal ingredients procured by doughnut boy, who’s looking a bit lost without his arm candy and who’s staring at the box the way they all are.

The Box of Gavrok. Wonder what’s in it. Probably something musty and gothic, if the musty, gothic box itself is anything to go by. And that brings up something else: Why is everything associated with demons always so damn cliched? It’s getting tiresome. This box, with it’s rusted metal fittings and its decaying leather, is almost the archetype of well-worn demonic stereotypes. Is it absolutely essential for all things supernatural to be contained in such a fashion? Surely something sleek, maybe Art Deco, would work just as well. His thoughts return to that ridiculous mansion he inhabits and he cringes inwardly. Hypocrite, heal thyself. Once this whole business with the Mayor has been seen to, he really ought to look into finding a new place to live.

What sort of decor would Willow like? He’s pretty sure her bedroom was decorated by her parents, so there’s no real clues to be gained from its cookie-cutter girlishness, and she has always had a refreshing unconcern with how she dresses as well, which leaves her without any sort of style from which he might at least make some tiny headway in his quest to deduce what sort of home she’d like to live in with him. She’s a puzzlement and he’s at a loss right now.

Oh well, soon enough, he’ll be able to ask her himself, and no matter what, he’s sure they’ll be better off starting their lives together in a new home, free from old baggage and hideous interior design. She can always redecorate if she sees fit. After all, it won’t be long before he won’t need to pretend he has no money anymore; it won’t matter what the whole merry band of them think.

Which of course brings him back to Buffy, who’s looking at him with undisguised self-worship. She’s well pleased with herself, as, quite honestly, she has every right to be. This whole raiding party was her idea and she’s pulled it off. Good for her. And as an added bonus, Wesley looks to be in a royal snit, having opposed this adventure. There’s something about that prissy little poseur that sticks in Angel’s craw, so seeing the man get knocked down a few pegs does wonders for his mood.

Still, he’s been feeling an odd sense of foreboding and distress for the past few minutes, something to do with Willow. But that can’t be right, because she’s safe at home, isn’t she?

He’s about to find an excuse to leave so he can go check on her, when Cordelia comes running in, looking so panicked that Angel wonders if perhaps Neiman Marcus has announced that they’re closing their doors for good and all.

“Okay, you guys, I don’t want to scare anyone, but Willow’s been kidnapped. Either that or she’s suddenly decided to trash her house and run off, leaving the front door wide open, and that is so not like her and...”

“What?” Xander interrupts, which is a good thing, since it’s taking all Angel’s strength to keep his true face from emerging and if he opens his mouth, he’s quite sure his fangs will display - not a good idea at present.

“Oh my god. I thought she’d be safe. I mean, all she did was get us the maps. I never thought...It must have been Faith.”

Take back every bit of respect Angel felt for Buffy and sign him up to be on Team Wesley. Damn Buffy to hell.

“Why does everything happen to Willow? I mean, first she gets...” Cordelia’s voice trails off at a glare from Xander, but Angel’s in shock. Cordelia knows? Odd sort of pillow talk, even for Xander, but surely it wasn’t Willow who confided in the girl. “I mean it just seems like she’s had way more bad luck than she deserves, you know?”

“We have to go back. Full-on assault.” Xander may not have a brain in his head, but Angel can’t fault him on bravery or on his sense of duty. Right now, that idea, or any idea that could bring Willow home where she belongs, looks perfectly reasonable to him.

“They’ll kill her.” Giles may have a point there, but Xander’s idea still wasn’t a bad one.

“We’re assuming they haven’t already?” Angel’s now off Team Wesley. In fact, once this is over, he might just drain and kill the pompous, insensitive ass.

“No, they know what she means to us. She’s too valuable as long as we still have,” Buffy pauses and stares at the monstrosity that brought all this about, “the box. We trade.”

“We can’t.” Wesley again, and it’s taking every ounce of self-control Angel is capable of to keep him from breaking that fool’s neck.

“No, it’s the safest plan. It’s the only way. Right?”

“It might well be.” Giles looks nearly as panicked as Xander, Buffy, and even Cordelia do. Angel’s glad that at least that means everyone who counts is on the right page.

“Look, we call the Mayor and arrange a meeting.”

“This box must be destroyed.”

“I need a volunteer to hit Wesley.” If the boy keeps up like this, Angel might just have to stop hating him.

“Giles, you know I’m right about this.”

“Wes, you want to duck and cover at this point?” That might be an excellent idea, because Angel’s fangs are itching and Giles looks almost demonic. And then there’s Xander, who looks as close to threatening as Angel has ever seen. Strangely, though, Wesley might need most to be frightened of Cordelia, who looks poised to ruin her manicure and put to good use her otherwise ridiculous stiletto heels. When did she suddenly decide to learn to care about other people? Willow, in particular?

“Damn it, you listen to me! This box is the key to the Mayor’s ascension. Thousands of lives depend upon our getting rid of it. Now, I want to help Willow as much as the rest of you...” Hardly, you incompetent prat. “But we will find another way.”

“There is no other way.”

“You’re the one who said take the fight to the Mayor. You were right. This is the town’s best hope of survival. It’s your chance to get out.” Ah yes, the reminder of Buffy’s real reason for doing all of this to begin with: the chance to leave Sunnydale. How could he have ever believed that Buffy’s selfishness would bode well for any of them? Angel feels like a bigger fool than Wesley right now.

“You think I care about that? Are you made of human parts?” Angel almost believes her. Still, he’s not in a place right now where he’s prepared to think well of Buffy Summers. He’s opened up the bond a bit more and what he feels nearly brings him to his knees. His love is terrified. She’s all alone and at the mercy of a psychotic and what is he doing? Standing around watching a debate.

“All right, let’s deal with this rationally.” How in the hell can Giles say such a thing? Over the past weeks, Angel had come to believe the man truly cared about Willow, but now...how can he even use the word ‘rationally’ at a time like this?

“Are you taking his side?”

The library has now erupted into a cacophony of voices, Cordelia’s screeching standing out and giving Angel more fodder for reflection later, once Willow is out of danger.

“You people are ridiculous. You’d sacrifice thousands of lives? Your families? Your friends? It can all end right here.” Indeed, it can, Wesley, old boy. Indeed, it can.

Angel heads to where the urn stands on its pedestal, awaiting its use as the agent of destruction for the Box of Gavrok.

“We have the means to destroy this box.” Just as Wesley says those words, Angel smashes the urn against the far wall, scattering pottery shards and thrice-blessed sage all over the floor.

“She gave me back my soul,” he says, forestalling any questions from the onlookers.

“Um, may I just say, ‘Go, Angel’?” Cordelia is the first to chime in. Xander kisses her cheek.

“I’m gonna have to go with my girlfriend on that one. Thanks, man.” What? No ‘Deadboy’? Maybe Xander really does take his friendship with Willow as seriously as he should.

“Giles, make the call.” Buffy’s words are hardly necessary as Giles was halfway to his office door the moment Angel smashed the urn, but she had to say something. She’s looking at Angel strangely now, obviously wondering why he was the one to make the bold move, despite the explanation he offered. As of now, he officially doesn’t care. Buffy, Giles, Xander, Cordelia - they can all know how he feels. None of that matters. What matters is getting Willow back alive and keeping her safe. Maybe it’s about time that everyone learns what’s what.

He’s not going to take the time to enlighten them now, however. The look on Giles’ face as he comes out of the office tells him that they’re about to take the box to the Mayor. Any answers Buffy might want, she can make up for herself; she will anyway, Angel knows that from hard experience.

“The Mayor wants us to bring the box to the cafeteria, that gives us time to...”

“To set up. Yeah, I get that. Of course, that means he does, too.”

“Yes, well, you have a point there.” Giles is shooting him a look and there’s a question in his eyes that’s just for Angel: Is Willow still alive? Angel nods ever so slightly. The man may be dense, but he deserves an answer. And even if he doesn’t, it’s best that he gets one. Angel’s thinking more prudently now and realizes that it’s best not to make an enemy of a man who holds as many of his secrets in confidence as Giles does.

Footsteps, each set so individual, ring in his ears as they leave the library, gothic depository of doom in hand. There’s Buffy’s purposeful stride, each click a syllable: “Slay-er, Slay-er”. There’s Giles’s cautious tread, the hint of a former predator in its non-silence. There’s the Halloween soldier in Xander’s cadence and a girl on a mission in the staccato of Cordelia’s towering heels. Wesley’s mincing tread, with its echo of chattering teeth, is there as well, the pathetic fool not being able to add two and two and deduce that his presence on this errand is distinctly unwelcome, not to mention entirely useless.

“Cor, are you sure it’s okay that you left...?” Xander is whispering to his girlfriend, so low that Angel’s pretty sure Buffy can’t hear. Even he can only just make out the words.

“Xander!” She’s hissing at him, spitting mad, and Angel can almost feel Xander backing down. If he wasn’t so worried about Willow, he’d be curious: What’s going on with those two?

He tunes in to the bond, feeling his girl coming closer and decides not to worry about her being able to feel him now. She needs to know he’s there and that he won’t let any harm come to her. The Mayor and his right hand whore will pay for what they’ve done. The wannabe demon will die and Faith’s blood will flow through his veins. That’s neither threat nor promise, merely fact. Willow belongs to Angel, and woe betide anyone who thinks to do her ill. She can feel his resolve and he senses her terror receding ever so slightly.

They hit the cafeteria and start setting things at the ready. Making sure there’s one way in, one way out - that sort of thing. No chance, in other words, for that bastard politician and his psycho sidekick to make off with Willow, as well as that godforsaken box.

Giles holds a baseball bat, obviously itching to use it on Wesley, while Xander and Cordelia check the doors one last time.

“Locked tight, just like you told me. Except for the front.” Now things are getting very weird. Cordelia sounds far too happy about taking orders from Xander, a fact which conjures up mental images he’d rather not see, thank you very much.

“Yeah, now I have that comforting ‘trapped’ feeling.” The boy glares at Buffy.

“One way out means one way in. I want to see them coming.” For a moment, it occurs to Angel that following the orders of the bimbo who got them into this mess to begin with isn’t the most blazingly brilliant idea in recorded history, but he can’t actually find fault with this plan, so he’s willing to go with it.

Of course, if it goes wrong, Buffy will die a slow, painful, gruesome death.

And suddenly the lights go off.

“I guess they’re shy.” Xander seems nervous, as does everyone else. Everyone but him, that is.

“I can see all right.” Braggadocio is permissible in these circumstances, he’s sure. After all, he really can see perfectly right now.

The clang of doors opening and now the Mayor enters, lackeys by his side...followed by Faith. She’s holding a knife to Willow’s throat and Angel wonders if the Mayor can see the flash of his true face. He reins it in quickly, but he couldn’t keep his demon under total control - not with the woman he loves being threatened right before his eyes.

If the Mayor saw anything, however, he doesn’t seem to care. He has the same bland smile as always plastered on his face. He steps forward, as does Buffy, and they meet in the center of the room.

“Well this is exciting, isn’t it?” He giggles then and Angel seriously questions the man’s sanity. Of course, there are plenty of other reasons to believe the man is many a brick shy of a load, but the giggling just wraps it all up so neatly. “Clandestine meetings by dark of night...exchange of prisoners. I just...I...I feel like we should all be wearing trench coats.”

“Let her go.” Yeah, Buffy. This guy’s really going to do just what you say. Maybe Xander should be the one giving the orders, seeing as how he’s managed to bring Cordelia Chase to heel.

Faith’s eyes are locked on Angel as she runs a hand up and down Willow’s body. He can see tears in Willow’s eyes. The bitch will pay for this.

“No Not until the box is in my hands.” Is that an actual emotion he’s hearing in the Mayor’s voice? This box must truly be crucial to the Ascension. The man brings himself back into personable, toothpaste ad form quickly, though, and Angel almost respects him for it. “So you’re the little girl that’s been causing me all this trouble. She’s pretty, Angel. A little skinny, but then again, I guess you like that type.” He nods back towards Willow and Angel can see every Scooby eye as it turns on him. They’ve obviously adjusted to the dim light. He can only hope that everyone stays focused on the matter at hand. They’re here to save Willow, not worry about what Angel feels for her.

“Still don’t understand why it couldn’t work out with you and my Faith. Guess you kinda just have strange taste in women.” Another nod towards Willow, and Faith’s hand is perilously close to her breast. He can feel the fear and revulsion pouring from her and he does his best to reassure her with his presence and the certainty of his resolve to make Faith pay for this.

Still, none of this shows on the face whose expression he’s schooled into near-nonchalance. “Yeah, well, what can I say? I like ‘em sane.” Willow soon squeals in pain.

“Angel? Insulting the girl with the knife at Willow’s throat? Maybe not the best idea right now?” He hates to concede anything to the girl, but Cordelia’s right. Faith’s eye is not on the same prize as her erstwhile boss’s, and she’s the one holding Willow’s life in her hands.

“Well, I wish you kids the best, I really do, but, uh, if you don’t mind a bit of fatherly advice, I, uh...I just don’t see much of a future for you two.” The Mayor walks back to Willow as he talks and reaches out to stroke her cheek. Faith looks furious, but does nothing more with the knife. “I don’t sense a lasting relationship, and not just because I plan to kill the two of you...well, all of you, including your perky little ex over there - and, let me digress for a moment and say that dating the best friend of your ex-girlfriend is never a good idea - but you’ve got a bumpy road ahead. Even if Buffy weren’t in the picture, which of course, she is.”

“You’re crazy. You do know that, right? Just so we’re all on the same page.” Buffy’s inability to accept reality could not be more welcome right now. She still believes that Angel loves her and only her, or at least she badly wants to, and her denial seems to be working on everyone else as well. Good, because as much as Angel would almost welcome the truth being revealed, now is not the proper time.

The Mayor simply chuckles, but there’s a mirthlessness there that Angel’s wary of at this point. “Y-You kids, you know...you don’t like to think about the future, you don’t like to face facts, but unless you want Faith to gut your friend like a sea bass - which I’m guessing at least most of you are against, or you wouldn’t be here - you will show a little respect for your elders.”

“You’re not my elder. I got a lot of years on you.” Something tells Angel that he needs to keep pretending that he cares a great deal less than he does.

“Yeah, and that’s just one of the things you’re gonna have to deal with. You’re immortal, she’s not. It’s not easy.” The Mayor’s eyes get a wistful, faraway look. “I married my Edna Mae in ‘03 and I was with her right until the end. Not a pretty picture. Wrinkled and senile and cursing me for my youth. Wasn’t our happiest time.” So much for sentiment. “And let’s not forget that any moment of true happiness will turn you evil. I mean, come on, what kind of a life can you offer her?

“I don’t see a lot of Sunday picnics in the offing...I see skulking in the shadows, hiding from the sun.” He’s back beside Willow again, running his hand down her hair. “She’s a blossoming young girl and you want to keep her from the life she should have...till it’s passed her by. And by God...I think that’s a little selfish.” He walks up to Angel and their eyes lock.“Is that what you came back from Hell for? Is that your greater purpose?”

Angel keeps a look of disgust and contempt on his face and the Mayor seems irritated. Good. Because that windy lecture nearly did Angel in. Willow is, in fact, his purpose, his soulmate, his raison d’etre, and nothing is going to keep them apart. None of that shows on his face, however. All he displays is stone.

The opponent caves. “Make the trade.”

Angel picks up the box and hands it to Faith as she releases Willow, who rushes straight into Buffy’s rather uncomfortable embrace. He can feel the waves of relief and something else, something inscrutable and indefinable directed at him. They need to talk.

Sadly, though, it doesn’t appear they’ll get the chance right now. Just as the Mayor chortles, “Well that went as smoothly as...”

“Nobody moves!” The doors burst open and that ridiculous troll of a high school principal comes roaring in. Angel would laugh if he didn’t remember he’s supposed to be a humourless and brooding sort still. Now is not the first time he thinks Hell actually did him some good.

There are two policemen as well and they fan out, trying to appear as if they know what they’re doing, whatever that might be.

“I knew you kids were up to something.”

“Snyder, get out of here.” No matter how often it doesn’t work, Buffy just can’t resist trying to order people who hate her around. Giles isn’t the only one who’s been hit in the head too many times.

“You’re not giving orders, young lady. I suppose you’re going to tell me I won’t find drugs in this box.” Oh no. Please don’t let that foolish creature open the box. Angel positions himself in front of Willow. Whatever’s inside that gothic monstrosity will have to get past him to get to his love.

The sound of metal echoes through the room as Faith unsheathes her knife. Well, looks like gutting will be happening after all. Thank you, Faith, for at last giving meaning to your existence.

“Wait!” And once again, Buffy takes her ‘Savior of Humanity’ role just a bit too literally.

“Principal Snyder.” Well, it’s not the voice of reason, but the Mayor will do just as well. “I think we have a problem.”

“Mr. Mayor, I had no idea you...I’m terribly sorry.”

“No, it’s I who should apologize. I mean, coming down here at night. What must you be thinking? But see, I just needed to...” At which moment, he’s interrupted by the sound of one bumbling oaf of a policeman opening the box. “Uh, no, don’t do that!”

Next there are screams. A black, crab-like creature leaps from the box and attaches itself to the moron’s face. Wasn’t there a movie like this? A quick look over at Xander tells him that there was. The boy is literally itching to yell out some pop culture reference but he holds his tongue in deference to the two horrified girls beside him.

Unfortunately, the man has stopped twitching and jerking, and the creature jumps off the corpse, obviously seeking live prey. They’re all on guard now, including the lone remaining cop, who looks as if he’d vomit were he not afraid that a loud noise might invite the creature to help itself to the all-you-can-eat blue plate special.

“Oh God.” Wit, thy name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.

“Where’d it go?” Kind of an obvious question there, Xander, but then again, it’s a more useful observation than Wesley’s rather pedestrian bit of panic.

“Get that door open.” Great idea, Snyder. Let’s allow the cute little guy to go romping all over Sunnydale. This guy runs a school?

“No!” Thank heavens for someone with sense. “You can’t let that thing out of here!”

“I still want to know where it went.” Angel has to second Xander on that one. It’s hard to protect Willow when he’s not sure where the danger might come from.

“Listen.” At last, Buffy has something useful to offer. She’s right. This little critter’s not a silent one.

A few seconds later, the creature reappears...by dropping from the ceiling right onto Wilkins’ face. Sadly, Angel’s pretty sure that won’t kill him, but he sure hopes he’s wrong.

“Boss!” Faith sounds panicked, as well she ought. It’s not like the want ads are full of openings for an evil henchwoman who’s both literacy-challenged and lacking any decent references.

She rips the scabby-looking insect off her boss and it scuttles away, it’s legs making noises oddly reminiscent of the chattering of Wesley’s teeth.

The real show at the moment, though, is the Mayor’s face, which is healing right before their eyes. Principal Snyder looks as if he’s about to void his bladder. Of course, Angel’s already seen an earlier version of this scene, but it’s still impressive, he has to admit.

“I wouldn’t leave that open.”

Buffy hops to it, leaping onto the box and slamming it shut just in time to make a multiple amputee of a less adventurous one of these creatures, who’s waited just a beat too long to make good his escape. He’s still in the box, minus many limbs. Angel figures his brethren are eating him right about now.

One of the creatures, however, must have been a friend of the mutilated beast, because it suddenly leaps onto Buffy’s back. She immediately falls to the ground, crushing it. Crass observations about the speed with which she winds up prone come to mind, but he doesn’t bother to even think them through. His eyes are locked on Willow, who is huddled against Xander and Cordelia and seems to be favoring one side. Is she injured? He’s not feeling pain from her, but perhaps it’s buried beneath all that fear.

He’s distracted for a brief moment by the sight of Faith aiming her knife straight at Wesley’s head. Good girl! She’s not a complete waste after all.

She telegraphs her move, though, and Wesley notices. “No!” The knife is now whizzing through the air.

Dammit! There was a creature behind him...that’s what she was aiming at. While Angel’s glad it’s dead, she could have taken out both. Some bad girl she’s turned out to be. Residual loyalty to Wesley? She’s pathetic.

Snyder’s holding up a chair, as if that would be useful, and the would-be-demon Mayor picks up the box and turns to leave. Faith’s looking around like she can’t figure out which side she’s on and Angel’s this close to hysterical laughter. He knew she wasn’t the most intellectual girl on the planet, but this takes the cake. Can’t she smell the burnt bridges? She’s stuck on the Mayor’s team, Slayer or not.

“Umm...is that all of them?” For once, a question from Cordelia that’s not utterly stupid.

“Uh...not really. You see there’s about 50 billion of these happy little critters in here. Would you like to see?”

Great, not only is the box a ridiculous demonic stereotype, it’s also a clown car. Angel’s becoming rather ashamed of his otherworldly status right about now.

“Raise your hand if you’re invulnerable.” Okay, the folksy manner has finally crossed the line from obnoxious to repulsive and nauseating.

Officer Idiot has at last retrieved his keys and recalled the intricate process of unlocking the doors, so open them he does.

“Faith, let’s go.” Yeah, Faith, that’s your cue to leave.

But she doesn’t. She gives that wistful look back again, as if she’s hoping the gang will suddenly beg her to return to the fold. Maybe Snyder’s suspicions about drugs in Sunnydale aren’t that far off the mark after all. Because Faith cannot naturally be so deluded.

“Faith.” She turns and goes trotting after her master like a good little bitch. Now it’s just the Scoobies and the principal, who is just standing with the chair, looking more bizarre by the moment.

“Snyder, you alive in there?”

“You...all of you...why couldn’t you be dealing drugs like normal people?” With that, and still carrying the chair, Snyder departs. Pity there’s not another clown car to convey him home.

Buffy retrieves Faith’s knife, attempting to look sad and complicated, not a look she’s much of a hand at pulling off.

“Well that went swimmingly.” Ah, Wesley, just the voice no one wanted to hear.

“Hey, we got Willow back and none of us got eaten by those bugs. I think we did just fine.” And Cordelia has just said something else worthwhile. She’s making a habit of this and Angel’s dying to know how she became human after all this time. Sex with Xander couldn’t be that remarkable...could it?

It dawns on him now that Willow has experienced much of the hate and contempt he’s been feeling tonight through their bond and he worries briefly. But he reasons that, minus telepathy, she’s hardly able to ascribe those feelings to particular objects, and hating Faith, the Mayor, and Snyder is perfectly acceptable. He’s safe, but he’s going to be a bit more careful from here on in. He lets his genuine relief flow through him, a far more suitable emotion to share with her.

Right now, of course, it’s time to go back to the library for a recap of tonight’s events and a chance to hear Wesley say something even more puling and moronic than he already has. Goody.

Willow is sandwiched between Xander and Cordelia as they walk and Buffy seems to expect Angel to take her hand. He doesn’t. Giles, thankfully, fails to notice. He’s focused on despising Wesley and still being worried about Willow.

Angel’s worried about her himself. There’s still fear pouring off of her and it’s not a residual sort at all. She’s frightened of something, still, and there’s trauma as well.

Soon, though, they’re all in the library and Willow’s doing her best to seem blase and brave. She’s adorable, as ever.

Buffy, as he expected, asks a thousand questions immediately and the fear becomes something enormous. Luckily, Cordelia comes to the rescue. Damn. He may have to start liking her.

“Could you just chill for oh, say, two minutes before hounding the victim, here? Willow’s been through an ordeal.” She puts her arm around Willow in a solicitous manner. “All those hours with Faith? With that cheap perfume she wears? I don’t know how you made it through.”

Willow chuckles lightly and the pluck he so admires comes to the fore. “Yeah, well, I managed. And in between bouts of retching, oh, and the ‘having to stake a vampire who wanted to make me a snack’ thing, I managed to do some shopping.” Cordelia looks impressed, that is until Willow fishes the item in question out of her pocket. So that’s why she was protecting her left side. “Giles, I’m pretty sure this was on your wish list.”

He looks at her curiously. “These are some of the most interesting pages I saw in the Books of Ascension.”

Giles’ eyes light up as he struggles to handle the paper with care. “Willow! This is wonderful.”

Angel sees nothing wonderful. The words ‘vampire who wanted to make me a snack’ are resounding in his ears and it also doesn’t take a genius to deduce that Willow had chosen to go after the Books rather than take an escape opportunity. She could have been killed, and he’s not sure he’s reining in all the fury he feels with her for being so foolish. Pluck is one thing, but her life is worth more than the whole town put together, as far as Angel’s concerned, and he’s not at all happy she was so willing to risk it.

He slips out the door, taking care to tamp down the bond as he leaves. He’ll deal with Buffy and her suspicious nature later, he’s sure, but right now he has to get away; he’s this close to losing control and he’s not going to do it in front of witnesses. He will, however, be having a talk with Willow tonight. Predicting the course of the evening is pretty easy, and Angel’s positive that Willow will be in the library for at least a short while longer before hitching a ride home with her new best friend.

When she gets there, Angel will be waiting.


Tbc...