The Soulmate Series

It's the Little Things

For awhile, Willow is able to lose herself in research. The comforting click of the keys as she types, the familiar feel of the mouse under her hand - these are soothing in a way that nothing else seems to be anymore. Like the lullabies she never actually heard sung to her as a child. Like the soup she would make for herself when she was sick and no one noticed. The computer, for all its cold technology, takes far better care of her than anyone else has. It has never hurt her.

But try as she might, the inapposite thoughts, the ones that have nothing to do with the Mayor and the Ascension, refuse to be kept at bay. They breach her defenses as surely as an invading army. They are all about Angel. Who is just as impossible to keep out.

She wonders about him and how very different he is from who he was before. Before he lost his soul. Before he was sent to Hell. Before he came back. Gone are the guilt and the sense of inferiority that seemed as much a part of him as his dark hair and his passion for Buffy. Only the dark hair remains.

He’s watching her as he makes a weak pretense of reading one of her books, his eyes full of reverence for talents he sees as mysterious and recondite. She hates his admiration, hates that she can’t escape it by looking away, that there is always the bond, a chain to his feelings which can never be severed. She remembers the worshipful way he combed her hair. Perhaps she’ll shave her head. Some might call that cutting off her nose to spite her face, but if it would rid her of Angel, even going so far as to make that expression literal is something Willow would consider. Of course, there is that “if”...a miss that’s as good as a mile, one that ensures that she’ll still have a full head of hair and a nose at the end of the day.

And the thoughts are back. She’s relieved that Angel can’t read them, only the emotions they engender. She’s afraid of him, and not just because he’s raped her. She is pretty sure she’d be afraid of this new Angel even if she wasn’t bound to him. He’s not at all the same man she once considered a friend and ally and perfect match for Buffy.

He doesn’t see his demon as something that degrades him anymore. He sees himself as superiour now, as something above humankind. He sees the demon he once despised as something that makes him more, not less, than a man. She wonders: Does this have anything to do with the way she gave him his soul?

She’s touched lightly on the matter in her thoughts before, but she now ponders it more thoroughly. Could it be that motive mattered so very much, had such a profound effect on Angel? Did the fact that her reasons for giving Angel back his soul were so completely unlike those of the gypsies who originally cursed him matter so greatly? Something in Willow is telling her that the answer is yes...and so much more.

Last night’s dream begins to nag at her yet again. Something in it, something she can’t quite recall, is tugging at her mind. There’s something profoundly important that lies just out of reach of her memory. Between that and her frustration with herself for not putting together puzzle pieces she realizes she’s known she had for more than a little while now, she’s losing faith in the mind she’s taken pride in her whole life long.

Perhaps it would be best for her to return her focus to her research. There’s where she might actually be capable of doing some good, though right now she’s fallen so low in her own estimation that she can scarcely credit herself with the ability to find porn online, let alone highly sensitive information about the Ascension.

But just when she’s ready to declare her candidacy for Village Idiot, she finds something. Funny how, even when she’s thinking about something else, she seems to have a knack for passwords. This demon message board changes its own quite frequently, but once again, Willow has come up trumps. She’s in. And that’s a good thing...except that what she’s reading on it? Not such great news. She gasps.

“What is it?” Angel leaps up and joins her at the computer, looking over her shoulder.

Willow stifles her irritation. He does have a right to be concerned. They all do. The Mayor, as it turns out, is going to be something a bit more than what they bargained for. There’s a lengthy thread devoted to discussing the upcoming Ascension and it seems that some demons think the Sunnydale crowd are chumps for being on the Mayor’s side. A vengeance demon named Anyanka seems to believe that even the toughest of Sunnydale’s otherworldly residents will be toast when it’s all over.

There’s a shiver - so strong, worry and something else, something fearful - that makes its way to her from Angel. He’s scanning the comments and something he’s reading there has affected him powerfully.

“What is it?” She hates herself for not enjoying his distress, but she can’t. It seems too much like what she herself feels so often, and even though that’s his fault, she can’t seem to feel that turnabout is fair play. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just...this is bad, Willow.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. Like this vengeance demon says, none of you have ever seen a true demon before. I have.” Those last words explain everything. Angel has indeed seen demons like the one they will be facing before. In Hell.

Now Willow is close to terror. Anything that frightens Angel, especially now...

His hand is on her shoulder and it’s obvious he thinks it will comfort her. She may have felt compassion a moment ago, but that’s because she’d feel compassion for anyone going through those feelings of helplessness and fear that are her daily reality. It doesn’t mean she’s suddenly going to welcome Angel’s touch. She shrugs his hand off and fights the urge to turn and glare at him. He’s hurt by her action and this time Willow can enjoy his pain.

She keeps reading, however, wading through arrogance and some truly bizarre permutations of netspeak. Who knew demon languages could have their own versions of it? Luckily, though, the use of that is minimal. Not all demons know each other’s languages...or even their own. There’s a side thread going - inspired by some irritation at the demonish netspeak - where some of the demons are debating the need to know the old tongues at all, given that human languages seem to be more useful these days. Hmm. She’s going to have to bookmark this and come back to it. It seems fascinating and a bit analogous to the experience of the children of immigrants, she’d say.

Back to the matter at hand - she’s not finding anything remotely encouraging. It’s far from an exaggeration to say that they might have finally stumbled into a fight they can’t win. Willow knows what that’s like. But at least in her case, she’s still alive, though that’s not always something she’s happy about. If (when) the Mayor wins, no one will live to fight another day.

“We’re definitely going to need to tell Giles about this.”

“Yeah.” Angel seems lost in thought. Willow’s still picking up the troubled feelings from him. And hating herself for the pity they engender. He doesn’t deserve it, but somehow that doesn’t seem to matter.

“We’ll figure things out. We always do. There has to be a way to defeat this thing, right?” Willow’s pretending to a confidence she doesn’t come close to feeling and she’s sure Angel can tell, but she has to or she’ll just collapse. Everything she’s just discovered says there’s no way they will survive and she just can’t allow herself to truly accept that. After all, her own life may not be worth living, but what about her friends?

Xander and Cordelia are so much in love, and for all Cordelia’s troubles, the world still stands open before them, full of all the hope and joy to which their love entitles them. There’s Buffy...she’s actually got a chance at a life beyond slaying. It’s not fair for that chance to be snatched away so cruelly. And there’s Giles, who’s still struggling to put together a life as something other than a Watcher...and without Jenny.

None of them deserve to die right now. Not even the oblivious ordinary citizens of Sunnydale deserve that fate...and maybe some of the demons don’t either, but even if they do, Willow’s willing to save them along with everyone else if it’s possible.

She turns to Angel, who has yet to answer her earlier question. “Angel? There’s something we can do, isn’t there? I mean, you’ve at least seen one of these ‘true demons’ before, and that’s got to help.” She’s about to go further, to give him some sort of spiel about what an asset he is and how - with him on their side - they can’t lose, but she can’t. She just can’t. Doing so would make him think he’s winning her over and there’s just enough selfishness in her to keep her from sacrificing herself to that degree.

He’s touching her again, and the empathy she’d felt has almost completely vanished. His hands on her remind her that, were it not for him, she wouldn’t have the experience that led to the empathy in the first place. “Could you just please leave me alone? Can you content yourself with what you took last night and leave me be?”

Her remarks seem to have offended him. Yes, she’s terrified, but - maybe because, after reading the message board, she’s pretty sure her life will be over soon anyway - she’s not going to let her fear stop her from speaking her mind. And after all, if she learned anything last night, it’s that Angel will do whatever he wants, and he doesn’t require any provocation to assault her.

“I know I hurt your feelings just now, but guess what? I don’t really care. You hurt me all the time and I’m supposed to understand because you say you love me.” She stops him cold before he can argue. “Okay, you’re a demon, I get that, and, like I said last night, I’m willing to believe that you love me, in whatever twisted way demons love, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. I know I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating: You raped me. More than once. And just because you don’t see it that way, and despite this ‘soul bond’ thing...it doesn’t change the fact that *I* feel assaulted and degraded and horrible. Okay? Are we sort of on the same page now?”

It’s a good thing so much of her pain and her anger is still tucked away in that box, or she’d have gone farther. As it is, she’s sure she went way too far.

Angel’s about to answer - and Willow’s dreading what he might say - when the doorbell rings. From the look on Angel’s face, she knows it’s the visitor she was dreading earlier. Buffy is here.

Well, there’s nothing she can do but go and answer the door. Luckily, her robe and pajamas are the opposite of sexy, so when Buffy finds out she has a houseguest, there can be no chance her suspicions will be aroused. No one with a lover would wear this stuff. At least Willow wouldn’t. No, if Oz were the man who’d spent the night in Willow’s bed, she would not be wearing this much flannel.

She just tries to compose herself as she makes her way downstairs. Looking guilty and apprehensive would probably undo the chaste impression of all this bulky fabric. Just remember to breathe, Willow. Oh, and smile.

Now she opens the door...and it’s not Buffy. Well, it’s not just Buffy. Xander’s face is, in fact, the first thing Willow sees, though Buffy is standing right next to him.

“Hi, guys,” she carols, trying perhaps a little too hard to sound happy to see them. “What are you doing here?” Oops. Good one, Willow. “I mean, it’s great to see you.” Nice try, but probably not a great save. Buffy and Xander look a bit put off. “Sorry. I guess I’m still kind of wacky after yesterday. The whole kidnapping thing, y’know?”

They’re buying it. At least she didn’t oversell it by adding a line about too much caffeine. She’s better at lying than she used to be. Is she glad of that or sorry? Maybe now is a bad time to wonder about such things, not that there will ever be a good time.

“Can we come in?” Buffy sounds annoyed, or maybe suspicious. Willow wonders why she’s even asking instead of just barging in. Of course, the fact that Willow’s standing squarely in the doorway might have something to do with it. Again, oops.

“Oh yeah, sure.” Awkward girl is there in full force and Willow nearly trips over her own feet as she backs up to allow her friends to enter, which they do, Xander closing the door behind them. And just to make sure that everything can stay as uncomfortable and difficult as possible, Angel chooses this moment to come down and join the party. Great. Today just keeps getting better. Couldn’t the Ascension be rescheduled for some time in, oh, maybe the next ten minutes or so?

Buffy stares at Angel, looking for all the world like someone just ran over her dog, and Willow’s thinking that maybe the flannel ensemble didn’t work as well as was hoping. But it’s Xander who speaks first.

“So, Deadboy, would now be a bad time to ask what the hell you’re doing here?” He’s not glaring at Willow, though, and she’s a bit surprised by that. If only she had a bond with Xander. She’d really like to know what he’s feeling right now. She only hopes the anger and annoyance she picks up from Angel don’t bode ill for her best friend. The fact that he allowed Cordelia to live has to be a good omen, though...right?

“I came here last night to make sure nothing happened to Willow. What with Faith being able to get into her house and Willow being all alone.” He’s clearly laying a guilt trip on her friends and, at least in Xander’s case, it’s working. He colours and looks rather abashed. Buffy...well, she’s a bit more inscrutable and that’s definitely ratcheting up Willow’s feelings of apprehension.

“Thanks for that,” Xander says quietly.

Buffy chimes in with, “But why would Faith come back here?” at the exact same moment.

Xander is actually the one looking at Buffy the most harshly after that. Is it wrong that it makes Willow feel...warm and loved and kind of nice? Xander is still special to her. She’ll never have another friend like him and it means everything to her that their kinship is still such a strong one.

“Gee, Buffy, maybe because she’s a psycho?”

“That and the fact that it’s pretty obvious she’s hated Willow for awhile now.” Angel again. As if she could forget his presence, even for a moment.

“You’re right. I - I’m sorry, Will. I should have been here last night. I guess I just thought that, what with the Mayor having the box now and all...”

“I’m really sorry about that.” And she is. Strange and ridiculous though it may be, Willow does feel a bit guilty about what happened. Okay, it really isn’t her fault she was kidnapped, but still, were it not for that, the Mayor would be nowhere near as big a problem right now.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Angel’s voice is cold and blank. That’s definitely not the
tone she wants to hear from him. Especially not when it’s accompanied by the ice water she can feel flowing through him.

The atmosphere in the room is getting more and more uncomfortable, but Willow can’t figure out how to fix it. Buffy looks either sad or angry or maybe both and the terrifying idea that she might not die before Buffy figures out what’s going on between her and Angel - or, more likely, some distorted version of it - has just occurred to her when Xander, bless him, comes to the rescue.

“Will? Is there any chance you and I could maybe have a few minutes alone to talk? That’s kind of why I came over here now.”

Willow wants to hug Xander until he gasps for air. “Sure thing!” she chirps. “I’ll go up and get dressed real quick and we can take a walk. Give Buffy and Angel a chance to talk and stuff, too.” Her cheerful, toothy grin is completely genuine as she bounds up the stairs before anyone (meaning Angel) has a chance to argue. He’s extremely annoyed with her, and she knows she’ll pay for this later, but she’s petty enough to enjoy this little bit of torture she’s managing to inflict on him.

In a flash, she’s in her room, donning jeans and a sweatshirt, then bounding back down the stairs and practically dragging Xander out the door with her.

“Help yourself to sodas or chips or anything you want, Buffy,” she calls out as they leave.

A wave of anger follows her and stays with her. She should have known Angel would no longer tamp down the bond, not even out of common courtesy. Well, he’ll still know her feelings, but at least it’s not as if he can eavesdrop. And soon enough, Willow has more pressing concerns than Angel.

“Pretty anxious to get out of the house, weren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” That would have sounded more innocent if it didn’t sound like she’d been sucking on a helium balloon beforehand.

“C’mon. I think you set a speed dressing record in there.”

“No, I...”

“Couldn’t wait to get away from Deadboy.”

“No.” She’s trying not to sound too vehement, but Xander’s still looking at her in a way that says he knows she’s lying. A few minutes ago, she was good at this. But right now? She sucks. Great.

“Will, it’s okay. I’ve noticed. I think everyone but Buffy has noticed. So it stands to reason that you’ve noticed.”

“Noticed what?” More helium. She can no longer lie to save her life, it seems. Literally.

“The fact that the fanged nuisance back there has... I’d call it a crush, but he takes himself way too seriously for that, so I’m guessing ‘thing’ is about the best word for it. Angel has a thing for you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Angel loves Buffy. Everyone knows that, well, except maybe Faith. Is that it? Are you actually paying attention to her? Because, really, she’s delusional, Xander. Angel loves Buffy. He does.” Willow does her best to scoff, but her air of disdain for Xander’s theory isn’t coming off any better than her attempts at innocence. Why couldn’t she have been a theatre geek?

“Wrong. Angel loved Buffy. As in past tense. As in deader than he is. You can’t tell me you haven’t seen it. I mean, I understand not wanting to see it, because, eww, dead guy. And hey, I didn’t want to see it either. But this isn’t about Faith or the Mayor. This is about what I saw with my own eyes. After yesterday, with him smashing the urn and almost going Angelus on Wesley - which, by the way, I didn’t exactly disagree with - it was so obvious that even I had to admit that his creepy affections have shifted to my best friend.”

For a vampire, Angel sure is lousy at being mysterious and inscrutable. Damn him. Who else has figured out that he’s in love with her? Principal Snyder? Willow wouldn’t be surprised. Now she feels more trapped than ever. An option she’d never really considered taking has now been snatched away forever and Willow feels its loss keenly. She can never tell the truth, not anymore. No one would believe her. If it’s possible to hate Angel more than she already did, she does now.

“I’m sure it’s just gratitude, you know? Because I gave him back his soul.”

“No way, this is a lot more than gratitude. I mean, he’s just not behaving like a guy who...”

“Xander,” Willow interrupts, not wanting this conversation to go on any further, “didn’t you have something you wanted to talk to me about?”

They stop walking for a moment and Willow notices the sunlight. It’s beautiful. She’s not sure she’s ever realized before just how gloriously lovely sunlight is. She wonders how many more days she has to live, how many any of them have, how many more chances there will be to absorb the light and warmth of afternoons like this one. Once Xander says what he has to say, she needs to tell him what she’s learned today. He’ll want to pack in as much quality time with Cordelia as humanly possible. Just as she’ll want to spend as much time as she can appreciating the sun.

Xander takes her hand and looks at her in that way he always does when he knows he’s screwed up somehow. “I’m sorry. I really messed up...I...I didn’t mean to upset you. I mean, I know with everything you’ve been through, the last thing you want to think about is Buffy’s ex-boyfriend having the hots for you and,” he notices the stricken look on Willow’s face, “it’s obvious I’m spending way too much time with Cordelia. Maybe I just ought to shut up right about now.”

How can she stay mad at Xander? She’s forgiven him for much more than this before. So she hugs him and says, “It’s okay. I just...I found out some stuff about the Mayor today and...it’s really not looking good for our team, you know? So yeah, maybe not the best time to talk about stupid stuff like you thinking Angel is interested in me.” She smirks lightly, tries to be breezy.

Xander’s not fooled, but he lets her get away with it. “Yeah. I’m probably reading way too much into it. Maybe I was letting Faith and Mayor McDemon’s wacky little speech get to me. I’m sure you’re right and it’s just him having a weird way with gratitude. I mean, you’re the brains of this outfit, right?”

“And don’t you forget it.” Still not a great impression of cheerful, sprightly Willow, but better, and that seems to be good enough.

“So what’s this you found out about our favorite government official?”

“I managed to get onto a demon message board today and the talk...well...we’ve never seen a demon like what he’s going to turn into. No one has. Except this vengeance demon who says he - or maybe it was she, ‘cause the name was sort of feminine - but anyway, like I was saying, this vengeance demon says it witnessed an Ascension hundreds of years ago and it was like nothing you’ve ever seen. It was a horrible massacre. Scorched earth, hundreds dying, the works. Worse than anything we’ve ever faced. Even the Judge. Even Acathla.”

Xander is quiet and he keeps hold of Willow’s hand, staring at it like maybe this will be the last time they ever spend talking, just the two of them. “Wow.” His voice is soft and nervous. “I guess the prom really isn’t so important, now that I think about it.”

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t want to put you on the spot in front of Buffy or anything, and I know it seems silly right now, what with you telling me we’re all about to die just as we finally manage to get out of high school, but Cordelia and I...well, we were sort of wondering if you were going to the prom.”

Honestly, up until this very moment, Willow hasn’t given the prom so much as a second’s thought. Why would she? Oz is gone. “I wasn’t planning on it, I mean...”

“But, Will, you have to go. I mean, you don’t have to, and I’m not trying to talk you into anything you don’t want to do, but think about it. Now, more than ever, the prom is important. If your sources are right and we’re all toast - a possibility I’m not actually ready to concede, by the way - then this is the very last party you’ll ever have the chance to attend. And hey, I sprung for a limo and I’ll be wearing a tux. You can’t not be there to see me trying to act all suave and debonair. C’mon. It’ll be fun.”

She wants to say no. More than anything, she wants to say no. But then Xander gets down on one knee, right there on the sidewalk, and she just can’t refuse, any more than she can stop the fit of giggles that overtakes her at Xander’s histrionics. “Okay. I’ll go. But if you two get frisky in the limo, I am so getting out and walking.”

“I promise.” Xander scrambles to his feet and puts his arm around her.“No naughty touching in the limo.”

“So does that mean you’ll be spending most of the evening in the janitor’s closet?”

“Ouch. Nice one there, Willow. Great to see that impending doom hasn’t ruined your sense of humour.”

The sweet, happy feelings engendered by this small glimpse of normalcy can’t last forever and they don’t. Angel’s black mood crashes over her, like a tornado sweeping through a church picnic. It’s time to head back to her house before something happens.

“I better get home. I want to check a few more things before Angel and I tell Giles about the Mayor tonight.”

“Okay.” Xander’s expression turns strong. “Hey, Will, seriously,” he takes her hand and stares into her eyes, “we’re gonna win. We always do.”

There are tears in Willow’s eyes now. She almost believes him. And she’s not sure if she’s glad or sorry. Maybe a part of her would welcome losing this battle. And how sick is it that she’s so close to being willing to sacrifice the town, and maybe the world, just to get away from Angel?

Her hand stays in Xander’s as they head towards her house. She thinks about the prom - about watching Xander and Cordelia dance, about sharing punch with Buffy, about listening to the laughter of her classmates. It’s the only safe thing to think about.


Tbc...