The Soulmate Series

Quadrille

Maybe attending the prom hadn’t been Willow’s idea - heck, maybe she hadn’t even wanted to come - but there’s something about a night surrounded by happy people, none of whom are Angel, which has an enormous amount of charm.

It helps that Cordelia made all her fashion decisions for her. It’s funny - of all the frightening dilemmas Willow has faced in her life, the last minute choice of a prom dress was one she didn’t dare face at all. She looks down at the satin and lace that skims her figure quite becomingly and smiles. Cordelia may have lost a great many things lately, but not her sense of style, and the fact that this dress is Cordy’s choice and not hers keeps the very attractive gown from being quite the madeleine it could potentially be. Her thoughts only rarely stray to Oz, and to what might have been, if only...

Of course, just because she’s not consumed with melancholy nostalgia doesn’t mean she’s able to drown herself in youthful delirium. After all, there are those Hellhounds Tucker Wells has let loose on the formalwear set which Buffy is currently trying to dispatch and the Ascension they’re facing very, very soon and the fact that she’s suddenly realized that Xander might have used a computer trick she may have accidentally told him about once in a completely unethical way (though she’s probably wrong because, hey, since when has Xander ever been good with computers and really, she only overheard part of that conversation he had with Cordelia, anyway).

But Willow’s trying hard not to think about any of that. Instead, she’s doing her level best to suck the marrow from the bones of the closest thing she’s known to a normal evening in longer than she’s comfortable thinking about. Angel’s even receded from the bond, a boon Willow is making every effort to enjoy without thinking of just what twisted plan that might be part of, because after all, Angel might be doing something for her without there being some dark motive behind it.

She might believe that, or perhaps she’s simply tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop and the tension’s just too difficult to maintain. Angel’s been subdued, even downcast, since the afternoon she gave voice to her guilt over trying to reunite him and Buffy, and he has remained uncharacteristically quiet and inobtrusive. He’s barely intruded on her psychic privacy at all and, despite his constant presence in her home, he’s hardly intruded on her physical privacy in a day or so either. Is he plotting something? Is he angry? It can’t be that she’s at last gotten through to him, can it? Because she can’t bear to get her hopes up only to see them dashed again.

What is going on?

Great, even here, surrounded by giggling teenagers high on youth and sickly-sweet punch and with a head filled with other dismal topics just as worthy of destroying her peace of mind, she can’t get away from thinking about Angel. Even when Angel isn’t forcing her to think about him, she can’t stop thinking about him. Is this why he’s withdrawn from her? Because he knows it takes no more effort on his part to consume and control her?

“Penny for ‘em, Will.”

Xander is suddenly in front of her, smiling at her in a way that tells her he believes her pensive look has everything to do with missing Oz. If only...oh, if only.

“Hey, Xan.”

“I’ve been saving a dance for you.”

Willow’s not really in a dancing mood, but it will give her a chance to ask him a couple of questions and besides, he’s been so sweet to her, and he wants so badly for her to enjoy the prom and have that last high school party be a good one for her. So she smiles and holds out her hand, waiting for him to take it and guide her into the throng. “Okay, let’s hit the floor.”

“Really? What did it do to us?”

Willow groans good-naturedly. What would an evening with Xander be without some really bad joke? She’s so very glad that, with everything so topsy-turvy in her world, she can still count on Xander to be Xander.

The familiar humour and the fact that he’s gyrating awkwardly to the sounds of “Celebration” bring her close to tears, and the last thing she wants to do is arouse Xander’s curiosity by crying. So of course, clumsily and bluntly, she goes about slaking her own.

“Xander, not that I actually believe you did anything wrong, because, hello, that’s so not like you, well except when you were possessed by the hyena, and anyway, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t actually know how, but...you know when we were watching that story on the news about that guy who hid assets by transferring titles and stuff?”

Xander looks...nervous. No, it has to be confusion. Right? Willow presses on, making sure to keep her voice low enough not to be overheard as Xander’s dancing becomes markedly subdued while he moves in closer to her.

“Umm...not that it’s any of my business and really, I know I wasn’t even supposed to hear your conversation, even though I accidentally did, and I’m sorry about that, but...umm...is there any chance that the reason why Cordelia’s car is still, you know, Cordelia’s car because I kind of told you how the guy did that stuff and how it would have worked if he’d done it the way I sort of described in what might have been too much detail? Because it would really be bad if you messed up and didn’t backdate properly or left some sort of clue that there’d been an intrusion and...”

Xander looks like a deer caught in the headlights. Of a semi. He laughs weakly and it’s a very hollow sound. “C’mon, I barely know how to turn the computer on. You know that. I wouldn’t even know how to find the site.”

He’s lying. The DMV site has been bookmarked on the library computer since Willow started looking into the Mayor and his cronies and she’s seen Xander looking over her shoulder so very often of late as she works. She’d chalked it up to curiosity about Mayor McDemon, but now...well...she’s going to have to go in herself and see if Xander screwed up and do her darnedest to fix it if he has. She sighs. Why didn’t Xander just come to her and ask for help right from the get go? It is so much easier to do things right to begin with than to erase a mistake.

The thought also occurs to her that, even if he’s done everything else right, Xander has probably transferred the title into his name, a move that’s sure to draw red flags of its own sometime soon. After all, he comes from a lower middle class family and has no legitimate source of income. With his luck, he’ll wind up being charged as one of Sunnydale’s phantom drug dealers. Now Willow is sure she needs to get to that computer soon and do some damage control. She can’t leave Xander hanging out to dry. He’s her best friend.

She’s not going to reveal any of her thoughts and plans, however. Instead, she’s going to pay him back for being a constant in her chaotic life. “Of course, I was just kidding anyway. I mean, I know how screwed up bureaucracy is, even the IRS. They probably just forgot about seizing Cordelia’s car, that’s all.”

Xander still seems horribly nervous, so Willow decides to change the subject. “You think Buffy’s doing okay? I kind of thought she’d be here by now.”

Xander’s nerves are not the least bit improved by that observation, and no wonder. Great one, Willow. Nice change of topic, bringing up the possibility that Buffy won’t even be alive to get slaughtered by the Mayor on graduation day.

But then, something happens that gets Willow off the hook: Buffy appears. She looks lost and sad, and Willow can see right away that she wishes she was here with Angel. Again, Willow is tempted to tell her the truth about the vampire she loves. Again, she stops herself, knowing she can’t.

“Buffy, you look awesome!” Truthfully, Buffy’s pale pink dress makes her look washed-out and her pasted-on smile would shame a stewardess with it’s patent falsity, but what’s a giant fib between friends?

“So do you.”

“Everything cool?” Xander asks.

“Coolest. Devil dogs are history. How’s the prom?”

Cordelia rushes over to join them, her face a mask of disgust. “Buffy, oh my God! What happened to your dress?” As fond as Willow has become of Cordelia, this is so not her finest hour.

“Nothing, Cordelia. And thanks for asking if I’m okay.”

Buffy’s offended, as she truly has a right to be. Even though Willow secretly agrees that Buffy’s taste has sadly failed her tonight, there was absolutely no need for Cordelia to point that fact out. After all, Buffy just saved all their lives...again. Surely she deserves a reprieve from the fashion police.

Before things can go from bad to worse, however, the lights dim, and Cordelia wisely shuts up as one of their classmates, a jock Willow barely knows, reads off the list of people who’ve won some pointless award. Not that she’s bitter over the fact that she knows she hasn’t won anything.

But wait, here’s one she’s sure she’ll be happy about. Xander’s a shoe-in for this one:

“And the award for class clown for 1999 goes to...Jack Mayhew.”

What???

And Jack Mayhew, the class’s own village idiot, puts a balloon hat on his head and shimmies up to get his trophy. This sucks. She turns and puts her hand on Xander’s shoulder.

“Please. Anybody can be a prop class clown.” Xander is obviously bitter, too. And he has a point about the props. Plus, they’re lame. “You know, none of the people who vote for these things are funny.”

Willow looks to her left, waiting for Buffy to chime in with something supportive and notices that her friend isn’t there. She’s over by the punch bowl. Gosh she hopes Buffy doesn’t actually drink that stuff.

Suddenly, a new voice is heard. Jonathan, one of the biggest dorks in the whole school, is at the microphone. Stiff and so awkward he makes Willow’s talent show performance look polished and smooth. “We have one more award to give out. Is Buffy Summers here tonight?”

Buffy? Buffy’s getting an award? Oh gosh. That’s just the best thing that could have happened. Buffy needs something to cheer her up and this is just what the doctor ordered. She can’t wait to find out just what award her friend has won.

“D-Did she, um...”

All eyes turn as the spotlight falls on Buffy. Willow’s actually happy, really happy. Unless this is something like what happened in Carrie, in which case, she’s going to slay everyone in this whole gymnasium.

“This is actually a new category.” Jonathan stutters on. “First time ever. I guess there were a lot of write-in ballots. Um, well, the prom committee asked me to-to read this.”

What in the heck could this be?

Jonathan takes a folded sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket and starts to read: “‘We’re not good friends. Most of us never found the time to get to know you. But that doesn’t mean we haven’t noticed you. We don’t talk about it much, but it’s no secret that Sunnydale High isn’t really like other high schools. A lot of weird stuff happens here.’”

A few students start chiming in from around the room.

“Zombies.”

“Hyena people.” (Xander looks distinctly uncomfortable at that one.)

“Snyder.”

Jonathan resumes his reading. “‘But whenever there was a problem or something creepy happened, you seemed to show up and stop it. Most of the people here have been saved by you or helped by you at one time or another.’”

Willow looks over and sees that Giles is gazing at Buffy, his eyes full of pride, a pride Willow completely shares. It looks like maybe being the one girl in all the world isn’t such a thankless job after all. People have noticed what Buffy does. People are grateful. People care.

“‘We’re proud to say that the class of ‘99 has the lowest mortality rate of any graduating class in Sunnydale history.”

Buffy is smiling, and this time it’s genuine. She’s looking down and Willow is struck by how shy and fragile Buffy seems right now. The tears Willow’s been holding back for so many reasons now spill forth for this one - her friend is finally getting the respect and recognition she so deserves.

“‘And we know at least part of that is because of you. So the senior class offers its thanks and gives you uh, uh, this.’” Jonathan reaches back for something and when Willow sees it, she smiles through her tears. It’s an umbrella - a glittery, sparkly, garish little umbrella with a tiny plaque attached to it.

“It’s from all of us,” he finishes, “And it has written here: Buffy Summers: Class Protector.”

The crowd parts and Buffy slowly makes her way to the stage. Willow is so grateful to Xander and Cordelia for making her attend tonight. She would have hated to miss this. Buffy is beaming and suddenly, she doesn’t look frumpy in that dress at all. She looks radiant, just like the shining golden heroine she is. If only Willow could carry this moment with her always. There’s something comforting in basking in the warm glow of Buffy’s triumph.

The music starts playing again as Buffy makes her way offstage and towards where Giles is standing, beaming at her, his smile shining brighter than the spotlights.

“You okay without us, Will? I’m thinking Cordy and I ought to get in another dance.”

“Yes, because my reputation hasn’t been completely destroyed yet by your total lack of coordination.” There’s a softness in Cordelia’s tone that belies her words. Yeah, she loves Xander and vice versa; the way they’re looking at each other confirms it.

Willow’s surprised they’re headed for the dance floor. She’d have bet money they’d be racing for the janitor’s closet by now. But they’re dancing, not making out, and Willow is struck by just how perfect they are together. Who’d have thought?

She takes one last look before turning and heading over to congratulate Buffy.

“You did good work tonight, Buffy,” Willow hears Giles say as she approaches.

“And I got a little toy surprise.” She’s displaying her umbrella, though there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes. If only Willow could find some way to make her forget Angel.

“I had no idea that children - en masse - could be...gracious.”

“We have our moments,” Willow grins toothily at the pair, “Congratulations, Buffy. What an honour. Can you believe it? Guess everyone’s not as oblivious as we’ve always thought, huh?”

“Every now and then, people surprise you.”

Willow nods in agreement, noticing vaguely that Giles’s eyes are focused on a point behind the two of them.

“Every now and then.” His eyes are still staring off into the distance, almost willing her to look back. So Willow does.

And there’s someone standing in the doorway.

He isn’t wearing a tuxedo, but it’s not like that’s important. He’s there and that’s what matters.

What she’d like to do is walk over to him in an elegant and refined way, ask how he’s doing, make some small talk, act like a grown-up.

What she does is hike up her skirt so as not to trip and run towards him at full speed.

“Oz!” She almost knocks him down as she slams into him, arms wrapping around him, her face soon buried in his neck. “I missed you.” The words are muffled by his shirt, but she knows he understands.

“Missed you, too.” His voice is even, as ever, but there’s emotion in there for someone who knows him well enough to find it.

She lets go and straightens her dress, a bit embarrassed at creating a spectacle, and, as always, paranoid about what might get back to Angel through their bond. Can he feel her even when she can’t feel him?

“Where have you been?”

“Tibet, actually.”

“Really? Wow. What’s it like?”

“Peaceful.”

Another constant. Oz has never been one to use ten words where one will do. She smiles at his calm and his laconic ways.

But for all the rosy glow of nostalgia, and for all the love she still has for him, there’s something...missing, somehow. The strong connection they once shared doesn’t seem to be there anymore and Willow scrambles about inside of herself, frantically searching for it hither and yon. She doesn’t find it.

Of course, she’s probably just being silly. After Scott’s death, and Oz having to leave, and all the stuff she’s been going through in his absence, it’s to be expected that there will be some awkwardness and unfamiliarity. Add that to the fact that her memories have undoubtedly been somewhat embellished by her subconscious due to her deep-seated desire to diminish the significance of her bond with Angel and...

Everything’s fine. It has to be. And she’ll feel just as close to Oz as ever any minute now, as close to him emotionally as she is physically.

It doesn’t help, though, that Buffy is staring at them, an uncomfortable reminder of just why they’re...well...uncomfortable together. Time for a bright idea, and luckily, Willow has one.

“Maybe we should, you know, go out in the hall where it’s quieter or something. I mean, so we can talk.”

“Sure.”

So that’s what they do.

It is quieter out here - partly because the music is considerably lower in volume, but mostly because neither one of them knows what to say. At least not for a few moments, moments that seem like hours, until Willow at last manages to break the ice.

“So, what brings you back to Sunnydale? I mean, not that you need a reason, because, hey, this is your home and you belong here, it’s just...” Her face is scarlet by the time she babbles that last bit and she feels like an idiot. But at least there are words. Words that are better than the void they now fill.

“Kind of heard through the grapevine about this Ascension thing. Figured you guys could use the help.”

“Oh.” That was pretty much what she’d expected him to say, and it’s a darn good reason for coming back. So why is Willow disappointed?

A second later his hand is stroking her cheek; she closes her eyes and revels in the feel of a warm hand against her skin. “I thought about you every day.”

She smiles. “Me, too.” She’s not lying, either. Somewhere in her heart, there’s always Oz. So why can’t he be in her soul, too? Why can’t it be him, not Angel, who is her soulmate, or whatever it is her good-deed-gone-wrong has turned Angel into?

The smile is gone now and a tear runs down her cheek, much as she wishes she wouldn’t cry.

Oz’s arms are around her now and she cries even harder. Right at this moment, she could not be more thankful that he’s not the type to ask questions. Maybe he thinks he knows why she’s crying and feels no need to ask. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to intrude on her emotional privacy. She doesn’t know. She only knows that the silence is back and that this time it’s a very good thing.

Until it’s shattered again.

“Willow. Oz.”

It’s Angel. And she didn’t sense him coming at all.

“Hey.” Oz pulls away and Willow wipes her eyes. Angel is still closed off to her and she’s terrified of what she doesn’t know about what he’s feeling. She reaches out through the bond only to hit a brick wall. Angel has whatever control can be exerted over their connection - still, now, always.

“Good to see you back.” Angel’s half smile seems genuine, but Willow knows better, can see the glint of gold hiding behind the chocolate brown eyes.

“Heard about the Mayor.”

“We can use all the help we can get.” Angel looks down and then towards the doors. “I, uh, I’m gonna go see if I can find Buffy, okay? Glad you’re here to give us a hand.”

“See ya,” Oz says as Angel disappears into the gym and they catch a brief blast of music as the doors swing open and then shut.

“At least someone’s happy to see me. Besides you, I mean.”

“You shouldn’t trust him, Oz.” The words leave her mouth before Willow can stop herself, her fierce desire to protect her ex-boyfriend overriding her common sense. Now what is she going to do? Because this is not like her tears of a moment ago. Oz is not going to just let this go and not expect an explanation.

“What brought that on?” Just as she feared, she is definitely going to have to figure out a way to make Oz understand without telling him the truth.

“It’s just...when I did the restoration...I felt stuff, you know? There’s a lot of evil in him. A lot. And it didn’t go away just because he has a soul. It’s still there and...” This may be the best lie she’s ever told and, for a moment, the way Oz is looking at her makes her think it worked.

Then his arms are around her again and what he says dashes all her hopes. “I know what this is about. This is about me and what I did.”

What? “No! No, this has nothing to do with...”

“It does. I know you don’t want to face it, but...I’m a killer. There’s a demon inside me that I can’t control and...”

“But you can.” She holds him so tightly that she can scarcely breathe. “What happened was just because of that stupid Sisterhood of Jhe. And they’re gone. As long as you stay in your cage during the full moon, you’re fine and...”

With some effort, Oz puts enough space between them to put his finger to her lips and stop the flow of her speech. “I’m not fine. I’m a werewolf. And I understand you projecting your fear onto Angel. But I’m the one you’re afraid of, the one you can’t trust. No matter how much I love you.”

Willow collapses into his arms once more, sobbing and unable to say another word. It’s no use. There’s nothing she can say. Her only hope of protecting Oz lies with Angel himself, and she has no idea what he’s thinking or how to influence him.

As her sobs quiet, Oz guides her out of the school and they head out to the parking lot. She’s surprised to see his van there.

He can tell she’s wondering about that. “I left it with a friend in L.A.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t really think you drove it to Asia.” As jokes go, it would be lame by even Xander’s standards, but it’s better than tears, so there’s something to be said for it.

They get in. Funny how it doesn’t seem at all familiar to her now, how the passenger seat doesn’t feel molded to her body anymore, not the way it used to. Why not? Even the sound of the engine seems strange as Oz steers away from the school.

Oz stays silent and so does Willow. Neither of them, it seems, can think of anything to say.

It suddenly occurs to her that she never told Xander and Cordelia that she was leaving. Oh well, it’s too late now. They’re halfway to her house. She only hopes that Giles thinks to mention to the pair that Willow found another ride home. Now, at least, her friends can get frisky in the limo.

She giggles and Oz shoots her a strange look. “Sorry. I was thinking about Xander and Cordelia.”

That truncated explanation helps more than it should. “Yeah, they’re quite the pair.”

Feeling the need to defend them, Willow decides to expand upon her earlier statement. “No, I mean, yeah, they are, but in a good way, you know? I wasn’t laughing at them. Because really, they’re good for each other. I was just laughing about a joke I made with Xander about him and Cordelia not making out in front of me in the limo and, well, now that I won’t be in it with them again tonight, they can.”

“They’re the real thing, aren’t they?” Oz’s words are soft and there’s something like jealousy there. Willow can hear her heart cracking within her.

“They are.” Now she’s the one whose terse and quiet.

The van pulls up in front of Willow’s house and she gets out. “Oz, I...”

“When this thing is over, when we defeat the Mayor, I’m going back to Tibet.”

Willow doesn’t say a word.

“I have to, you know. I have to try and find a way to...”

“I know.” And she does. But that doesn’t mean she won’t cry her eyes out once she’s inside and alone.

She closes the van door and Oz slowly drives away. Her eyes are blurry as she navigates the walkway, unlocks her front door, and steps inside. As soon as the door is closed, she slides to the floor and the tears start pouring forth; she’s lost in a wave of emotion she’s not quite sure she comprehends. It’s big, but that’s pretty much as far as her understanding reaches.

It’s some time later when she’s sensible and aware of her surroundings again. At some point during her emotional outburst, she found her way to the couch, though she doesn’t recall getting up off the floor.

Maybe it’s good timing and maybe it isn’t. Because shortly after she starts to come back to herself, Angel walks through her front door. It bothers her that he didn’t even go through the motions of knocking, but there’s nothing she can do about it.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t seem to notice that she’s been crying though she knows he can smell her tears, and, when she tries again to reach out to him through their bond, she hits that wall again.

“Hi.” She turns on the lamp she knows Angel hates. Minus any otherworldly senses, she has to have some way to see. “How did things go with Buffy.”

“We danced.” His face is impassive and Willow can’t read him at all.

That would be a good thing if the bond wasn’t still there, but it is. Willow can still feel the chain binding her soul to Angel’s as surely as if it had weight and substance. It might still be all right if she wasn’t certain somehow that Angel’s feelings for her haven’t changed, but she knows he still sees her as his, still loves her in his dark, demonic way. With things as they are, she now realizes it’s better for her if she’s aware of his state of mind and emotion, even at the cost of him being so very aware of her.

“Did she tell you about the ‘Class Protector’ thing?” Willow tries to smile, to be casual and congenial and have a pleasant conversation. It’s not easy when she’s still reeling from her encounter with Oz and unnerved by her uncertainty about just what Angel’s up to now.

“You’ve been crying.” At that precise moment, their emotional connection stirs to life once more, not in the violent way Angel sometimes subjects her to, but it’s still unsettling.

“Yeah.”

“What did he do?”

Willow knows exactly who he means and she can sense a coldness within Angel. Now she truly is afraid. Maybe the truth will forestall any harm from befalling Oz. “He didn’t do anything, Angel. It’s just...after we defeat the Mayor, he’s leaving again. He still needs to get control of the wolf and he doesn’t think he can do that here.”

“Oh.” It’s not just the one word that’s calm and unthreatening, Angel’s feelings have shifted dramatically, much to Willow’s palpable relief. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s doing the right thing.”

Angel is the very picture of understanding and empathy and for some reason, Willow is enraged. She knows the evenness she’s sensing from him has nothing to do with genuine concern. He’s just glad the man he considers his rival will be gone again.

“Like you really care. Admit it, Angel. You want him to leave because you think he’s your competition. You think that with him out of the way, there’s a chance that I’ll give in.”

Once again, she’s struck a nerve. She wonders how many times she can do that and get away with it. Not many more, she’s reasonably sure - if she even gets away with it this time.

But her luck seems to be holding. What she feels from him is sadness, not rage. She figures he’ll go upstairs now, stay silent the way he did before. And it looks like her guess is correct as he walks toward the stairs. Then he turns around and faces her again.

“You’re right in a way, you know. I love you, Willow. But you’re wrong if you think that I consider Oz a rival. Whether you accept it or not, what I did tonight, the way I know you felt when I shut myself off from you, just confirms what you have to know deep down, the same way I do: We’re soulmates. Nothing will ever change that. And no matter what you do, you’ll always be mine.”

His voice is soft and carries no trace of menace, yet his words chill Willow to the bone.

He’s gone now, upstairs in her parents room, and she’s standing, shaking, in her parents’ living room. As much as she knows on some level that what Angel has said holds a measure of truth, she’s just not ready to accept it. In a funny way, her work with Buffy has given her a sense of right and wrong that makes her loath to accept Angel’s pronouncements as an absolute.

The fact is, as strange as it might seem, the fear she felt when she couldn’t sense Angel’s feelings actually made her long even more for total freedom. She understands the nature of the bond far better now and misses her soul’s liberty all the more. This bond that traps her with Angel isn’t right, and it doesn’t make sense in the world Willow lives in.

What she did, the restoration, she did with a pure heart and the very best and most unselfish intentions. She’s one of the good guys and that means something, doesn’t it? It has to. And while the road to Hell might be paved with good intentions, Willow is nowhere near ready to accept that it might also be paved with good deeds. This can’t be the end for her. It cannot be that Fate has condemned her to this for the remainder of her days.

No, there’s got to be a way for her to get her life back, to sever the bond completely, and to be her own person again. Once the Ascension has been stopped, Willow won’t rest until she finds it.


Tbc...