The Soulmate Series

Loaded Dice

It’s morning, surprisingly early, but Angel can’t sleep - hasn’t slept at all, in fact. He’s worried, so worried that he’s shut the bond down so that he can think through his feelings without having to deal with concealing them from Willow. She’s awake, too. He can hear her tapping away on the keyboard of her computer as he paces the hall, wondering whether he should go in and talk to her or not.

A muffled curse can be heard through her door and now Angel’s curiosity gets the better of him. He doesn’t knock, however, in fact he does everything he can to conceal his entry from Willow, not too hard for a predator like himself. He’s wondering just what she’s so in need of accomplishing this early in the morning. Sure, it might be something related to the Ascension, but it might also be something far more sinister. Oz’s return might have inspired her to try to break their bond. While he’s pretty sure that’s impossible, Angel’s not going to lull himself into a false sense of security.

His tread is light and inaudible as he sneaks up behind her. She seems oblivious to his presence, completely caught up in what she’s doing.

Looking at the screen, Angel is puzzled. “What are you up to this morning.”

“Angel!” she shrieks, clutching her chest as she leaps up and whirls around. “What are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

He ignores her for a moment as he takes in what she’s been working on. Are those automobile records? And since when does Xander own a Mercedes?

It suddenly dawns on him. She’s doing something for Cordelia, something related to her current state of poverty.

“You transferred Cordelia’s car into Xander’s name?” Not the brightest idea his love has ever come up with. Sooner or later, and probably at the worst possible time, some bureaucratic flunkie will accidentally put two and two together and wonder how an unemployed teenager bought a fancy German car.

Would she be surprised that he understands what she’s doing? He knows that Willow, like Buffy and the others, thinks he’s fairly ignorant about all the minutiae of modern life. Actually, he’s quite well versed in certain aspects of present day existence, particularly financial and legal matters.

“Um...no, not exactly.” Willow looks like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, as well she should since it’s obvious she’s doing something illegal. Angel believes her, though.

But that can only mean... “Xander changed the car title?” No wonder Willow was cursing. The boy has to have made some truly horrendous and dangerous mistakes by blundering about at tasks far beyond his ken, which in his case applies to anything more intellectually challenging than the procurement of snack food.

“Uh...yeah.”

“Thomas Murphy.” Willow blinks at the seeming non sequitur and Angel offers a short explanation. “That’s the name to transfer the title to.”

She’s confused, but Angel’s not sure how much he wants to reveal to her. He loves her, loves her with everything he is, yet he’s not entirely sure about trusting her. Still, this particular name is not one of the identities attached to his major assets. It’s really just his Sunnydale identity and the most important thing Thomas Murphy owns is the mansion. He decides to take the plunge.

“It’s a name I use sometimes. Put Cordelia’s car in that name and use my address. There won’t be any trouble about it.”

Willow’s still quite obviously confused, but, to Angel’s shock, she seems to trust him completely, typing the name in before setting about other tasks which seem utterly arcane to Angel. She’s cursing under her breath again.

“Dammit, Xander,” she mutters to herself, “You are so lucky you didn’t get caught.” Her voice turns disdainful. “Who designed their security? Focus, Willow. Do this so well that they wouldn’t catch you even if they knew what they were doing.”

Angel can’t help it. He chuckles. Surprisingly, that does not distract her and she keeps typing and muttering for a few more moments.

He wonders about what kind of questions she’ll ask once she’s finished with hiding Cordelia’s assets. It occurs to him that she really shouldn’t have been quite as bewildered as she seemed to be. How does she think Angelus acquired the mansion? No one but Drusilla and the minions could be dumb enough to buy the ‘drained the owner, moved into the house’ explanation, could they? How could he possibly have utilities? He gets bills for gas, lights, and water, just the same as everyone else, and these days, paying cash is just not a workable option.

Not to mention there’s the whole matter of managing his finances. It requires a legal identity to invest and save and take care of money, several if you are going to stay under the radar. Angelus was far more adept at building wealth than Liam was, that’s for certain, and Angel has been unwilling to use more than the barest minimum of that money, so there’s quite a lot of cash sitting in various accounts under various names, spread out in such a fashion as to create several multimillionaires rather than... Well, Thomas Murphy, minor star in Angel’s financial sky? He has a net worth of five million dollars.

Willow’s done, and Angel notices that she’s staring at him, obviously wondering what he’s thinking about and also undoubtedly itching to pepper him with questions. He opens up the bond. He’s curious to know what she’s feeling right now, and he’s no longer concerned about his ability to keep his own emotions filtered.

“Vampires are like everyone else, you know. We pay rent, utilities, buy cars... We have to do many of the same things humans do. And in today’s world, that means a whole lot of documentation. I have an identity that allows me to possess a checking account, credit cards...in other words, that allows me to officially exist.”

No need to mention that he has more than that one identity. He does not trust Willow enough to feel safe in letting a gifted hacker know that there are other identities out there whose assets and such she could tamper with. If she does anything to Thomas Murphy, it will be a minor annoyance at worst.

Willow appears thoughtful and seems caught up in the intellectual consideration of the reality of life as a demon in the human world. “It makes sense. Gosh, I feel pretty stupid for never having thought of this stuff before. I mean, you probably don’t have a birth certificate of your own, and even if you did, there’s no way you could get a driver’s license or anything being over two hundred years old and all.” The wheels are turning and the slight pinking of her skin shows that she really does feel doltish for needing these things to be explicitly spelled out. Not that Angel can’t also feel embarrassment radiating to him through the bond.

He can tell she’s curious as to how exactly he created Thomas Murphy, but he’s not inclined to enlighten her at the moment. She knows enough for now. Besides, truth be told, he left those matters up to others, well-paid others. After all, such people exist for a reason, and why not let skilled experts do properly what rank amateurs might well botch? That’s a lesson that Xander might do well to pay heed to in the future. That boy is fortunate to have a friend like Willow to clean up after him, but it won’t be that way forever.

“Thanks.” That comes out of nowhere and Angel is actually surprised by it.

He reaches out and what he feels is complete sincerity. Hope begins to rise up within him, albeit tentative and hesitant. “You’re welcome.”

“I mean it. I know you don’t care about Cordelia or Xander so...”

“I care about you.” That may have been a mistake, but Angel feels like being honest and it’s the truth.

Her head is down, eyes focused on the floor, and he puts his hand under her chin, tilting her head up so he can look at her. It’s the first time he’s touched her today. The contact is pleasure.

Her mood changes suddenly. “What do you want?”

He should have known. Funny how she trusted him enough to use him to save her spoiled bitch of a so-called friend’s overpriced toy, but not enough to have faith in the purity of his motives.

For a moment - a horrible, if mercifully brief, moment - he almost wishes he could stop loving her. He doesn’t bother to shield his pain.

At least she has the decency to look abashed and he does feel a creditable amount of shame from her, as well he should. Angel’s saved her life - twice - and has yet to ask for a quid pro quo. And even though he’s warned her about Xander and Cordelia, he’s gone along with her and helped them. Gratitude should be the least she feels towards him. The suspicion? There’s no justification for that whatsoever.

Then he remembers the last time they made love. The way Willow gave herself to him so completely. Of course, the next morning her ridiculous delusions returned, but that doesn’t in any way diminish the beauty of the night they shared. And that night sustains him, banishing the terrible doubts he just experienced and reminding him of just how glorious their love will someday be.

He smiles at her, finally answering her question. “Nothing.” It’s true, but it’s also a lie. Luckily, enough time has passed that she’s having enough trouble remembering what he’s talking about to forestall any analysis of his meaning.

“Well, thanks. I...” She’s stumbling over her words, as if they were cobblestones on the road of her thoughts.

“It’s okay.” He smiles again. He’s not sure why, but her confusion buoys him. He’ll have to ponder that subject later.

“I’d better go get cleaned up and dressed and stuff. I have to go to the store.”

She shuts down her computer, Angel pays attention and is surprised at how familiar her actions are. He seems to have absorbed something from watching her all this time. Would he be able to turn the computer back on and even use it in her absence? Does he want to risk her finding out if he tries?

Grabbing some clothes, selected quickly and with so little care that Angel winces at her choices, Willow heads to the bathroom. He can hear the click of the lock. It stings a bit, but he consoles himself that even she has to know the lock wouldn’t hold him out if he wanted to get in, so perhaps she’s just doing it to fool herself into believing she has no feelings for him at all.

He hears the water turn on; she’s taking a shower. He wants to indulge in a fantasy of the two of them together, but he doesn’t dare. She’ll be back in the room soon and how would he hide the evidence? There’s thinking he ought to be doing, anyway.

She’s human. An obvious observation, but one he ought to consider often and on a variety of different levels. Her impending trip to the store serves to remind him of all the mundane things that means. She has material needs, perhaps even material desires, and when the Mayor has been dealt with and they leave town together, it will be him, not her parents, who is responsible for providing for them.

Which brings him to a subject he’d touched on in his thoughts earlier: his money. Truthfully, he’s always hated using Angelus’s wealth and has never permitted himself to take more than a pittance for basic expenses. Yet, for some reason, he’s always tended it, even arranging for the current slate of identities in whose names the various accounts are held. There have been any number of times when he considered, very seriously, giving every dime away to worthy causes, but something has always stopped him. For all the guilt and self-loathing that were once as natural to him as breathing to a human being, the money is still there. Untold wealth is at his command. Now he knows why.

With this money, he can give Willow - both of them - a wonderful life, a life filled with travel and learning and luxury. It will be a life unlike anything she has ever experienced and he’ll be there to share it with her. Imagine - any subject she wants to study and he can hire the best tutors in the world to educate her about it. Any instrument she’d like to master, any museum she longs to visit...Hell, somewhere in Europe there’s a storehouse of exquisite art and furniture belonging to Angel, enough for a small museum all on its own.

All that he possesses, all that he’s acquired, it’s all for Willow. Well, for the two of them.

The water has been shut off and Willow will be returning to the bedroom any moment. He’s glad he didn’t chance a bit of self-gratification.

She enters about half a minute later, wearing the hideous orange shirt she picked out and the blue and green skirt which clashes with it rather badly. The ends of her hair are damp, having obviously peeked out from under one of those awful plastic caps as she showered.

“Just need to get my purse and...”

“How are you going to bring back groceries?” It’s a good question. And how far away is the market? Angel’s never paid attention to that; after all, he doesn’t really need to patronize that particular sort of establishment.

She colours and Angel’s surprised at what he’s feeling from her. “I...um...I’m kinda gonna borrow my parents’ car. Don’t tell anyone, okay? I only do it to go to the supermarket. I mean, it would be kind of hard to walk back from the store with a couple of weeks worth of food and all.” The look on her face is pleading, as if she’s doing something wrong. Her parents are the ones in the wrong, as far as Angel’s concerned. Imagine leaving her to run out of food like this, and obviously not for the first time.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He smiles and aims for a lighthearted tone, but she can tell he’s thinking serious thoughts and she’s too smart not to know what they’re about.

“Look, Angel, I know what you think of my parents, but...”

“I’m not going to hurt them. But you can’t stop me from hating them for hurting you.”

She’s about to say something in retort, something cruel and sharp, but Angel halts her before she can even open her mouth. “I’ve never been thoughtless or ignored you. I’ve never hurt you intentionally or tried to kill you and then left you to pick up the pieces without a second thought. I’ve never let you go hungry. So don’t compare me to them.”

He can see the tic in her jaw as she grinds her teeth. She knows he’s right, or she should. Whether she does or she doesn’t, however, she keeps her mouth shut, and Angel is thinking he might just get through the day without hearing that one horrible word he can hardly bear.

“I better go,” she says after a minute or two of awkward silence. “I’ll be back in a little while.” With that, she grabs her purse and heads out the bedroom door and down the stairs.

In short order, Angel hears the back door open and close as Willow heads out to the garage and the car her parents might as well not even own for all they’re in town to use it. He never thought to ask if she even has a driver’s license. Knowing Willow, he’s pretty sure she does, and that she acquired it in aboveboard fashion. For all the computer trespassing and unlawful use of her parents’ vehicle, she’s a good girl at heart, and even her transgressions are only committed for a worthy cause.

It’s not more than a minute or two later when Angel hears the doorbell ring. Did Willow forget her keys and lock herself out of the house? Or is it Cordelia Chase or Xander Harris here to annoy him with their presence? Hopefully, it’s Willow. He already misses her.

But once he gets downstairs to the entry, he’s hit by the scent of someone he didn’t expect at all, though he probably should have. He opens the door.

“Hey, Oz.” Angel’s tone is casual, his manner unconcerned. What’s going on inside? That’s another story, though he quickly reins in his emotions so as not to alert Willow. He can’t shut down the bond completely, though. After all, Faith and the Mayor are perfectly capable of trying something during daylight hours and Willow is all alone.

“Angel.” Oz actually sounds and even looks surprised, a rather unusual event given the usually bland and stolid demeanour of Willow’s pet wolf.

“C’mon in.” Angel stands back and allows Oz to enter, which he does. Immediately, the boy starts looking about.

“Willow around?”

“She’s at the store. She’ll be back in a little while.”

“So...you being here?”

“I’ve been appointed her guardian since the kidnapping.” No need to mention that he’s self-appointed.

“Kidnapping?”

“Willow didn’t tell you?”

“We didn’t get much of a chance to talk.”

“Faith kidnapped Willow a little over a week ago.”

Now Oz is the one with a clenched jaw. The expression is more appealing on Willow. “Giles told me that Faith had gone over to the dark side, but...”

“He didn’t tell you about the kidnapping, either? I’m kind of surprised.”

“Me, too.” Oz looks upset, and lost.

Angel would feel sorry for him, but they’re long past that. Oz is the enemy, though he’s foolishly unaware that a war’s even been declared.

“He probably didn’t want to upset you. Besides, it’s not a problem now, I’m here and nothing’s going to happen to Willow.”

Oz is looking at him a bit strangely, his eyes almost shrewd - appraising, assessing. Just what did he and Willow talk about last night?

“Why don’t you sit down? Willow should be back in just a few minutes.”

“Yeah.” And the hideous sofa claims another victim.

“Want something to drink? I’m not sure what Willow has, but...”

“No thanks. I’m good.”

Really now? Funny thing for a murderous werewolf to say. Of course, Oz isn’t actually murderous, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt Angel.

“So how’ve you been?” Angel retains the awkward, uncomfortable manner that’s expected of him. It may no longer be natural, but it keeps the wolves at bay, so to speak, and he’s willing to use it.

“Fine. A little concerned about this Ascension, but fine.”

“I just want to say - about what happened - I understand, you know? It’s not your fault.” He scores with that one. He couldn’t have picked a better moment or a more innocent way to remind Oz of why he left Sunnydale and why Willow is so much better off without him.

“Thanks.” Oz looks pained and lost in thought for a moment. “The Ascension...Giles says it’s bad. What do you think?”

“The Mayor’s turning into a true demon. So yeah, this is bad as it gets.” The utter lack of optimism in Angel’s words is entirely reasonable. He realizes he has no cause to believe they’re going to get out of this alive.

Funny thing, though - he believes it anyway. He and Willow are destined for each other, a destiny he’s sure not even the Mayor can thwart. After all, every time he has the smallest doubt, something happens to reassure him that Fate means for him to have Willow. Look at the golden opportunity it’s just tossed right in his lap - the opportunity to shape Oz’s vision of the way things are, an opportunity that can go a long way to making sure the mangy mutt never tries to win Willow back.

“I’m guessing that’s a bad thing.”

“There are no true demons in this realm. Not yet, anyway. But I’ve seen them before and...”

“In Hell,” Oz interrupts.

“Yeah.” Angel looks tortured and sad, hamming it up a bit for effect. Not that the memories aren’t terrible - they are. But Angel’s not the brooding lump he used to be...or that he pretends to be now.

“So we’re talking worse than anything we’ve seen before?”

“Worse than the Master, the Judge, and the Sisterhood of Jhe all rolled into one.” That last one is an inspired reference. Oz is in pain again. Good. “Sorry.” He was going to feign obliviousness, but really, even before his trip to Hell he wasn’t that much of a dolt.

Oz waves off the apology. Angel respects him for his stoicism, but only in the way one respects an enemy they’re still going to slaughter on the battlefield. Oz may be a gallant foe, but he’s still a foe.

“What’s the plan?” He’s pragmatic, Angel will give him that.

“We’re working on that.”

Oz sits for a moment, staring at the ground. “How’s Willow holding up?”

“As well as can be expected, considering... better, actually. She’s quite a girl.” Admiration has to be on the list of acceptable emotions, plus, now he has Oz wondering just what he knows. Also a good thing.

“I’m guessing you know about...”

“Yeah, Buffy told me.” Nice way to tie Oz up in knots - making him angry at a girl whose wanna-be boyfriend he believes he killed. The emotional tug-of-war remains an effective weapon. Guilt and ire, back and forth. Poor Oz.

“Guess that’s natural.”

“I knew something was wrong, anyway, all Buffy did was tell me what it was.”

Now Oz is curious, and frankly, so is Angel. What on Earth compelled him to let Oz in on this? Well, letting his instincts guide him has served him well before; he’ll just go with it.

Of course, it’s important to look discomfitted by this accidental revelation. He actually is, so it’s not much of a stretch to make it fit the persona he’s adopted.

“What do you mean?” Oh yeah, Oz’s interest is definitely piqued. Is that an emotion Angel heard in his voice? For the second time in one day? Surely that’s a record of some sort.

“I...I shouldn’t have said anything. Giles asked me not to; he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for Willow to know and...”

“What is it?” Oz looks worried and a bit irritated with Angel’s cryptic hemming and hawing. Emotional displays right and left. This must be nearly a nervous breakdown for the wolf.

“There’s a bond. Between us. It was formed when Willow restored my soul. At first I didn’t think it was any different than the bond I had with the gypsy. I could sense when Willow was in trouble...things like that. Which is how I knew that something terrible had happened to her.”

There’s envy in Oz’s eyes. Angel suppresses a grin and keeps tight rein on what emotions filter out through the very bond he’s discussing.

“But according to Giles, there’s more to it than that. Apparently something happened and...” A long pause. Oz looks almost as if he’s going to transform before his eyes and Angel readies himself in case he needs to do some animal control. “Our souls are bound.”

“What does that mean.” Oz’s voice is flat and even, his emotions once again on a tight leash. Good doggie.

“We don’t know. That’s the reason Giles doesn’t think Willow should be told yet. With everything she’s been through... I have to agree that it’s the right choice. She doesn’t need anything more to worry about. We’re going to wait until we know what exactly this soul bond is before we let her know it even exists.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Angel can almost see the turbulent emotions rolling like waves in Oz’s eyes. “So she doesn’t know any of this? She can’t sense...?”

“No. She would have said something to Giles about it. Maybe it only runs one way. I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.” Time to pull back and make sure Oz doesn’t believe he’s got any untoward feelings for Willow. “I’ve been kind of preoccupied, what with the Mayor, and...” He lets the sentence trail off, feigning a delicacy that forestalls him from saying a name he knows will cause Oz discomfort.

At that precise moment, the sound of the back door opening and the rustling of grocery bags announce the return of Willow. Perfect timing. Once again, Fate reveals itself to be his truest ally.

Oz leaps up to assist her and Angel stays right where he is, allowing the boy to play Galahad. It’s the right tactical move. Besides, he can hear every word they say to each other.

“Oz.” Her voice is high with surprise and...happiness. Angel is the one grinding his teeth now. Three out of three. He doesn’t bother to hide his irritation.

Her voice becomes correspondingly subdued. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping you bring in groceries.” Well, wasn’t that almost witty.

Willow’s exasperated by Oz’s reply and Angel hangs a tiny bit more renewed hope on her reaction. Surely this will help her get over her imagined feelings for the pathetic little dullard.

“Did you carry these all the way home?”

He can feel Willow’s panic. She really is ashamed of herself for using her parent’s car. Time for him to play Galahad. He heads to the kitchen.

“Not exactly. I...”

“I told her to take her parents’ car. With Faith out there, and with me not able to go with her, it was the only safe option.” He stands in the shadows at the entrance, the uncovered window keeping him out of the room itself.

“I wish I’d gotten here earlier. I could have driven you.”

Willow stammers some sort of noncommittal reply and she and Oz stare awkwardly at each other, Angel’s presence obviously inhibiting their conversation. He decides to roll the dice and trust that he’s done well by himself today, well enough to trust that giving these two some time to themselves won’t damage his cause.

“I’m gonna go up and try and get some rest before tonight, okay? If you’re not here at sunset, I’ll just head to the library.”

And with that, he walks away toward the stairs without once looking back. Willow’s completely unsettled by his actions and there’s a whole range of confused emotions roiling through her mind. With a smirk, Angel heads upstairs to the master bedroom. But he’s not at all inclined towards sleeping. No, he has some thinking to do. Thinking and planning. He’s got his advantage back and he’s not going to lose it again.


Tbc...