Boats Against the Current

Boats Against the Current (Chapter Seven)

“Hey,” Oz said. Not really a response, but the expected monosyllable nonetheless. Some people were silent because they didn’t want to talk, but others kept silent because they had nothing to say. Angel pretty much figured that Oz belonged in the latter category. Of course, he conceded, his hatred for the wolf likely coloured his opinion of his character.

“Surprise!” Buffy squealed, trying to salvage the moment. If she had expected giddy enthusiasm from Willow, and it was obvious she had, she was sorely disappointed.

“Hey yourself,” Willow said in a low-key, offhand manner.

“Well, if it isn’t the King of the One Night Stands,” Spike drily quipped. “What brings you here? Does tonight’s act at the Bronze have a cute trick werewolf singing lead?”

Oz’s face changed expression ever so slightly. The wisecrack had hit home and Buffy was quick to reassure him. “Don’t pay attention to him, Oz. None of the rest of us do.”

“Actually, Buffy, yeah, some of us are all on board with Spike on this one.” Xander spoke and Angel nearly fainted. He was perilously near to being forced to like that boy.

“Xander!” Buffy was angry now. “He’s come back and he wants to explain. I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt, don’t you?”

Angel was amazed at how Buffy wasn’t even stopping to ask Willow about any of this. He detested himself, but his heart soared as he saw how miserable she was. Oz was the last person in the world she wanted to see. That phase of her life was entirely over. She belonged unconditionally to Angel.

“Why? So he wants to explain himself now? Big deal. Who cares? He’s yesterday’s news. Like that shirt you have on. So over.” And Cordelia made her opinion known.

Angel was watching Oz carefully as this all went on and he noticed the twitch of the werewolf’s nostrils. It appeared that now everyone in the room save Buffy was aware of how things stood. He and Spike shared a look. They were ready in case things went south and a contretemps turned into a catastrophe.

“Any chance we can talk?” Oz asked, voice and mien deceptively even, his inner turmoil betrayed only by the infinitesimal tension in his posture.

“Yeah, sure,” Willow said, taking a seat in a chair and indicating that Oz could be seated on the couch.

“Alone.”

“I guess that’s our cue to leave,” Buffy said rather over-brightly. “Let’s go, guys.” She was at the door almost instantly, dragging Xander by the arm. None of the others budged.

“Cordelia and Spike and Angel are staying here, Oz, so I can’t ask them to leave. Besides, it’s kind of still daylight out.”

“Are you gonna be okay, Will?” Xander asked from the doorway as Buffy made ready to depart.

“Of course she will. Oz is back.” Buffy was oblivious, entirely oblivious. “Bye, Willow!” With that, she yanked Xander out the door with her and he was only barely able to grab the knob and close it behind him.

And then there were five.

“So,” Willow said rather nervously, “How’ve you been?”

Oz merely stared. He did sit, though, and Angel considered that a good sign. He’d be easier to get the drop on in a sitting position. “Things have changed,” he said.

“Yeah, well, you ran out of town without a glance backwards and never kept in touch. Safe to say that life’s gone on in your absence.” Spike was not going to let up and Angel was glad of it. He didn’t want to be the heavy here, at least not more than necessity dictated, so it was heartening that Spike was stepping in to offer the lion’s share of acrimony.

It seemed that an answer would take more than three words, so Oz offered none, preferring to stare in what he probably thought was a moody and intense way at Willow.

“Things have changed,” Willow echoed, deciding to ignore Spike’s observation.

“This thing…this you and Angel thing…” Ah, so he did know. Good. Because now they could cut to the chase.

“It’s not a ‘thing’. I love Willow and she loves me.” Everyone turned as Angel spoke. Willow’s small smile was a benediction. “Sorry you wasted a trip.”

Oz quickly turned back to Willow. “How…?”

“Funny thing about that. She went to L.A. looking for you, and…”

“Spike, I can speak for myself, okay?” Willow chided, softening her words with a gentle tone.

“Sorry,” he replied, seeming rather chastened.

“Well, he’s right. That’s pretty much what happened. I was trying to think of where you could have gone and I thought maybe you’d gone to Angel to help you learn control. I barged in, tore Angel’s place apart and…”

“The rest is history!” Cordelia crowed. “Well, not history, because that would be you – as in ancient, musty, who-cares-about-it-except-a-bunch-of-creepy-old-men-like-Giles history – but they’re something larger-than-life, so there!”

“Cordy,” Willow said. “I know you mean well, but…”

“What? Like I’m going to sit here while this mangy poodle acts like he’s never done anything wrong? Please!”

“Cordelia.” Angel stepped in this time. As much as he gloried in his seer’s incivility as currently exercised, it was making a difficult situation worse and it was upsetting Willow.

“Fine. But if I have to be tactful, I expect something out of this. Like shoes.”

“What about the curse?” Oz asked.

“Oh, Angel went to the Oracles and they said he can’t lose it with me.” Willow grinned and then thought better of it, obviously not wanting to pour salt in Oz’s wounds.

“Because…?”

“Because she accepts his demon and he doesn’t have to pretend not to be one with her. Peaches may be an utter prat, but I’ll say one thing for him: he’s smart enough to hang on to a gorgeous, intelligent, caring woman willing to accept a man who’s a bit out of the ordinary and not go playing hide the chew toy with any mongrel bitch who offers him a poke.”

“Can we talk alone?” Oz’s voice was as flat as ever, though Angel knew he had to be frustrated and more than a bit defensive after all he’d just heard.

“Cordy, Spike?” Willow asked. “Could you…?” She motioned for them to go upstairs or to the kitchen.

Spike got the hint – thankfully before Willow needed to enact a more intricate pantomime - and brusquely grabbed Cordelia’s arm. “Fine, don’t want to get fleas anyway.”

“Eww…does he have fleas?” Cordelia asked as Spike hustled her out of the room.

“Angel?” Oz asked as the others’ voices faded away.

Angel didn’t move. Thankfully, it seemed Willow didn’t expect him to depart. “He’s staying, Oz. There isn’t anything you have to say to me that he can’t hear.” He moved to stand beside her chair and she took his hand. “We have no secrets.”

“What about Buffy?”

“What about her?”

“Does she know?”

Angel answered before Willow got the chance. “She will soon. I’m just waiting for the right time to tell her.” Willow stared up at him, seeming to disagree, but he remained obdurate. Buffy was going to know the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth as soon as it was at all practical.

“What about…?”

“My relationship with her? It’s over. It’s been over since before I moved to Los Angeles. She’s my past. Willow is my present…and my future.” He brought her hand up and bent to kiss it. She beamed at him.

“Willow, I… ” Oz stopped for a moment and the next words came with obvious effort. “I guess I thought you’d be waiting.”

Willow held her hand up, just in case he actually had another syllable or two at the ready. “Oz, a part of me is happy to see you, because I’m glad to finally see that you’re okay. But I don’t know if I’m touched or insulted that you thought I’d be here for you whenever you decided to come back. Did you think I was just some loser who was going to sit here, crying her eyes out and sitting by the window watching for your van? Because I did that for a long time.” Willow squeezed Angel’s hand as her voice rose.”You never even sent a letter, not one word to tell me what you were doing. I worried and I obsessed and you were all I thought about. Then one day I got desperate and set out to find you…and…” She stopped for a moment and composed herself. Her next words were more kindly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like I don’t care for you. I do. I always will. But I’ve moved on now. You will too, I know it. There’s a girl out there just waiting for you.” She did her best to give him a cheerful, Willow-y smile.

Silence reigned for a few endless moments. Oz was looking at his hands, seemingly fascinated with his grubby nails. Angel found himself feeling a bit smug as he gazed at his own perfect manicure. He knew Willow appreciated the fact that he was well-groomed.

“Why are you guys here?” Oz asked after awhile longer.

“Adam,” Angel said, assuming Buffy had at least filled the werewolf in on the latest news.

Foolish assumption, as it turned out. “And he would be…?”

“He’s a kind of Frankenstein the Initiative created.” Oz still looked blank, so Willow explained further. “They’re this creepy military outfit that experiments on demons. They even put a chip in Spike’s head that keeps him from feeding.”

“Huh. I was kind of wondering what he was doing here.”

“Yeah, he came to us after he escaped and then he moved to L.A. with me.”

“Guess that makes sense.” Oz’s version of sarcasm was present in that last remark, but who cared? “Where’s Doyle?” he asked.

“Dead,” Angel said curtly. He had no intention of sharing his grief with the wolf.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Willow’s eyes never left Angel. “Cordelia has the visions now.”

“Oh.” That seemed to be Oz’s favorite syllable. Angel used to think their mutually taciturn ways gave them a kinship. Now he knew better. There were all kinds of silence and he didn’t share the one Oz inhabited.

“Is it okay if I talk to Angel?” Oz suddenly asked. Willow looked terrified, but Angel wasn’t the least bit concerned. Oddly, this was the part he was comfortable with. He was a demon facing another demon now. The posturing and jockeying for territorial dominance came naturally to him. Nothing to worry about anyway, because after all, he’d marked Willow and Oz never had.

“It’s okay,” Angel said calmly. “Go upstairs and chat with Cordelia. I’m sure she’s dying to know what’s been going on down here.”

“O…okay,” she said, stumbling slightly over the words. “No bloodshed, alright?” She pretended she was kidding, but they all knew better.

“I promise,” Angel replied with a smug grin.

Oz nodded, which Angel supposed was good enough. Willow made her way nervously out of the room, looking behind her several times as she did.

When Angel heard her reach the halfway mark on the staircase, he turned to Oz. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Willow.” Big surprise.

“What about her?”

“I love her.” Now there was another big surprise.

“I know. But so do I.”

“You claimed her.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You know…everything you said. I…you guys weren’t totally out of line.”

And suddenly Angel could have been knocked over with a feather. This was not what he expected when Oz asked to speak to him alone. “Really.”

“Yeah. I’m not saying I don’t wish we could...but…”

“But?”

“She deserves to be happy. I hurt her. If she loves you…”

“She does.”

“Then maybe I’ll be okay with it.”

His estimation of the wolf’s character heightened at an incalculable rate. If their positions were reversed…no, he would not have been so chivalrous. Of course, this could all be a trick, but Oz wasn’t much for Machiavellianism. Gulling Willow with regards to infidelity was one thing, but duplicity on this level? Not only was it unlikely, it was statistically impossible. “Willow will be glad.”

“Yeah,” Oz said. Angel thought he’d never heard a more dispirited sound in his life. He was surprised by the level of compassion he felt for his predecessor cum would-be rival.

“For what it’s worth…” For the life of him, he had no idea how to finish that sentence. It was a trifling matter, however, because Oz seemed to understand.

“Me, too.” Oz managed an extremely false version of a half-smile. “Hey, at least you’re not Xander.”

Angel chuckled at that. “I thought you guys had patched things up.”

“We did. Doesn’t mean I think he’s right for Willow.”

Angel nodded. He had to agree with that, and he was reasonably assured he’d have been of that opinion even were Willow not his lover.

“I better go. I’m gonna go see Devon, catch up on the boring, normal stuff.”

Oz got up and Angel thought for two seconds before saying, “Hey, this business with Adam…we could use all the help we can get. If you want to come back later, we can get you up to speed.”

“I gotta think about that.”

“I understand.” And he did. Angel knew it would be difficult for Oz to be around Willow now that she was lost to him forever. Still, he felt better for having made the gesture.

“Tell Willow goodbye for me.”

“I will,” Angel said to the retreating figure as Oz walked out the door and into the last hour of daylight.

That was that. Mutual respect and not the smallest threat of violence. Angel was almost stupefied. But then again, Oz had always been the peace, love, and understanding type. While Angel could not relate to his placidity in the slightest, he was glad of it for Willow’s sake…and for the sake of their reason for being here in the first place. One less conflict to worry about. Could a demon shout ‘Hallelujah’?

He heard the soft tread of footsteps on the stairs and suppressed a smile. “Hey,” he said just as Willow tiptoed into the room.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Angel beckoned her into his arms. “Everything’s fine,” he replied as he held her. “Really.” He knew she was skeptical even before she could say a word. “He just wants you to be happy.”

“Really?” She sounded slightly disappointed and Angel chuckled. He could empathize with her. A bruised ego, while hardly a life-threatening calamity, did ache a bit.

“If it helps, he’d have felt much different if you were with Xander.”

She stared up at him, extremely confused. “I thought they were friends again.”

Angel laughed again. “Doesn’t mean he thinks Xander deserves you.”

“Oh…oh. So that means he thinks you do?”

“Seems like it.”

“That’s good, I guess.” Willow was still slightly offended by Oz’s equanimity and it made her more loveable than ever. As much as Angel cherished her virtues, there was something precious about her small failings. They were like the little freckles that dotted her porcelain skin, the imperfections that enhanced beauty. “We should probably go tell Cordelia and Spike that all’s quiet on the western front.”

“Yes, we should,” he agreed. “And then I think we need to finish what we were in the middle of before we were so rudely interrupted.”

Willow blushed crimson, still modest after all this time. “Umm…yeah. Sounds like a plan.”

They didn’t have to head upstairs to talk to Spike. He was in the living room with them in seconds. “Trapped upstairs with Jeanne Dixon…it was like being in Hell.”

Angel could have argued that point with him, and he had the experience to back it up, but he decided not to bother. Spike’s histrionics were a part of him and Angel didn’t actually hate them all that much.

Adding to his rich aura of melodrama was the way he was now looking around – here, there, and everywhere. What on earth was he searching for?

“No wolf-skin rug, I see. Pity. I would have liked some bloodshed. You’ve gone soft, Peaches.”

Angel sighed. “There was no need for violence. Oz accepted that Willow’s moved on.”

Spike doubled over in a short fit of laughter. “You must be kidding.” He turned his attention to Willow. “You’re well rid of that pathetic tosser, Red. What kind of a demon just hands his girl over with a handshake and a blessing? I’ll tell you one thing: If you’d been my girl, I’d be wearing the entrails of anyone who thought they could step in and take what was mine. Werewolves… Oh well. What do you expect from some creature who’s only an actual demon for a couple of days a month? More like a bad case of PMS, I’d say.”

“That’s not nice, Spike,” Willow chided. “He’s a really good guy. I’m glad he’s taking this so well and didn’t go all wolfy or anything. I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt over me.” She meant it; Angel could see that. It was good that her higher feelings had overwhelmed any petty disgruntlement at Oz’s mellow acceptance of her having found a new love. She hated negative emotions; he had seen that time and time again.

“Piffle.” But Spike let the matter drop, realizing that going on at any greater length would be de trop (though Angel was a bit amazed that fact stopped him).

“Did he say whether he was staying in town?” Willow asked.

“I didn’t ask. But he said he was going to see a friend of his. I invited him to help us with Adam.”

“You did?” Willow’s eyes got misty and she hugged him. Angel was happier than ever that he’d made the effort to be gracious. “Thank you.”

“We can use all the help we can get and he did a great job against the Mayor,” Angel explained.

Spike sneered at him and Angel was almost tempted to counter with a cutting remark. For someone who allowed a Chaos demon to walk off with his lover to scorn him was laughable. He managed to restrain himself, however. His ego could bear up under the disdain. He was, after all, happily grasping the brass ring.

A moment later, Spike found the remote and plunked down heavily on the couch, turning the television on as he did. It was clear he was excusing them. Which at least saved Angel from finding a way to do so himself without embarrassing Willow. She wasn’t terribly comfortable talking about their sex life in front of others.

“There’s a delivery from the butcher coming in a little while, Spike. Would you answer the door when it gets here?” Willow asked as Angel took her arm to accompany her upstairs. “Angel and I have to go…talk.”

“Sure thing, pet,” he answered, waggling his eyebrows a bit to make sure she knew he was well aware why she’d be indisposed. He enjoyed seeing her blush. Then again, so did Angel.

Without another word, they left the room and headed upstairs to the erstwhile sanctity of Willow’s parents’ sterile bedroom. Chintz was as far from Angel’s taste as it was possible to get, but at least the bed was queen size and the door to the room would afford them some privacy. Given how little time they spent in it, Angel wondered why her parents had bothered to furnish it at all. Well, at least with Willow and Angel occupying it, the bed would get some proper use.

He closed the door behind them and, within seconds, they were in each other’s arms. Her modesty had, it seemed, been checked at the door, and her appetite matched his own, something Angel found immensely gratifying.

Satin-smooth skin was soon bared to his touch as he tore open her blouse. He’d buy her another one. What he needed right now was to touch her, to taste her, to be inside her, and that blouse was one barrier to slaking his hunger.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, as her jeans were undone and pulled down. She stepped out of them quickly, not objecting when he ripped away her bra and panties. He disrobed himself so speedily that he could scarcely recollect so doing. All that mattered was that no obstacle yet remained to having Willow.

They were on the bed in seconds and he kissed his way down her body. He reveled in her moans and gasps as his mouth found her nipple and his fingers readied her for his entry, building an ache within her that he’d soon satisfy in ways pleasurable to them both.

Once he was inside her, it was as if the world had transformed. No more Adam or Oz or Buffy or Faith, no more visions and curses. Redemption and happiness were right here - in the body that welcomed him into its depths, in the beauty that would never grow stale, in the heart that gave him the truest home he had ever known. The universe was comprised wholly of their two bodies; there was nothing beyond the borders of skin and flesh and passion.

His thrusts became more powerful and she met them, calling out her pleasure just as he did. It wasn’t long before they reached completion. This coupling was all about need; there would be time for play and teasing and exploring each other now that the edge was off their hunger.

He pulled out of her and lay beside her, reveling in the afterglow. The softness of her lips against his shoulder made him turn his head, his eyes meeting hers as he got lost in her desire.

This time it was her mouth that journeyed down his body. But she was more deliberate and more intent on the game itself. Her tongue flicked lightly against his nipple and he moaned before he could restrain himself. His cock responded to her efforts as well, and it was readily apparent that she was aware she had the upper hand. Still, this was a game worth allowing her to win, so he didn’t mind relinquishing his advantage.

She moved over him, her tongue licking a slow, tortuous path down his chest to his navel before dipping inside. His hips surged up of their own volition and she chided him. “Uh-uh, mister. Not yet.”

When she smiled in a way that reminded him of her vampire double, his cock grew more painfully hard. It wasn’t that he wanted her to ever become that demon, but knowing the potential was inside her…oh yeah, that was intoxicating. There was something intriguing about that shadow hiding behind her bright light. It captivated him, calling to something atavistic and demonic within him.

Moments and more excruciatingly glorious torment later, he was rendered incapable of further thought: her mouth engulfed him – cruelty and ecstasy. She kept her movements slow, holding back just enough to keep the suction of that hot, wet mouth from sending him over the edge. Her hands on his hips were a warning and he acquiesced, restraining his body as it longed to buck up into that viciously talented mouth, to try to take what she refused to give – the sweetness of release.

But for all that her smile had echoed her doppelganger, Willow was – blessedly - not one for torture. Before it could rise to the levels he himself had been wont to inflict on Spike and Drusilla in days gone by, Willow ended his delirious suffering. She picked up the pace and that talented mouth soon welcomed his spend. He came – hard – crying out her name.

When he came down from the high of his orgasm, he could see her, chin on his thigh, gazing up him with an impish grin. “I love you,” he told her as he reached down and ruffled her hair. She beamed. “And not just because of this either.”

“I know,” she replied, her eyes suddenly wise and calm. She did know, and in that moment Angel felt happier than he’d ever thought possible…and his soul sat secure and serene within him, just as it should. He wasn’t sure he’d ever believed he could feel as grateful to the mercurial PTB as he did right now. No matter what had gone before, and what might come later, they had given him a gift far beyond anything he could ever have hoped for. Being human again meant nothing, was nothing, compared to this.

Willow crawled up the bed and lay beside him, smiling softly as she, like he, became lost in thought. In a few minutes, or maybe an hour, they’d get out of bed and the rest of the world – a world of danger and difficulty - would exist again. But for now, they could enjoy the luxurious refuge of a nation of two.


Tbc…