velvetwhip (velvetwhip) wrote in red_magic, @ 2007-07-20 09:34:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | fic, velvetwhip, willow/angel |
Fic: Escape Me Never (Willow/Angel) FRAO/NC-17 8/10
I'm not sure if anyone here is reading this, but if you are, here is the next chapter and I hope you enjoy it.
Gabrielle
Title: Escape Me Never (Chapter Eight)
Previous chapters can be found here.
Author: Gabrielle
Pairing: Willow/Angel
Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (for references to rape and explicit sex)
Summary: Angel has another disturbing dream and comes away with more than just warnings about the future.
This was written for the whichwillow ficathon for the prompt: "What if nobody had been there to save Willow when Angelus grabbed her in the hallway?"
Feedback: Please. Thank you.
Distribution: For now, just here and my site. (Oh, and whichwillow, of course)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.
Author's Notes: This fic is dedicated, in its entirety, to purplefeen and lilbreck. They know why. Thanks also go to sexymermaid, angelspike69 and kitty_poker for being such great cheerleaders through the writing of this chapter.
Chapter Eight
Eyghon.
A demon Angel had never heard of before had possessed him tonight. The possession had been brief, but the effect on Angel remained. It had made him aware of the power of his demon in an unwelcome and terrifying way, a way that had made his soul feel imperiled, as if the cord binding it to him was frayed and raveling.
Oh sure, he’d put on a brave front. Willow had begged him to help Jenny Calendar and Buffy, had come up with this idea herself, and he hadn’t wanted her, or Xander and Giles and Jenny for that matter, to know how frightening and painful saving the day had been.
But it had.
It wasn’t Eyghon that had done the damage, though. It was his own demon. The demon whose strength, power, need, and lust he had felt swell with life inside of him. The demon who had pushed his soul aside as if it were nothing, roaring with joy at being the one in charge, if only for a moment. No one could ever know how hard it had been for Angel’s soul to regain supremacy. The struggle may have been invisible to outsiders, but inside Angel it had been as pitched a battle as any ever fought with guns or tanks or bombs, and one at least as uncertain of a favorable outcome.
Buffy had noticed only his brief physical weakness. For all the feelings she professed to have for him, the girl he loved, his soulmate, his Slayer, the girl who was the key to his redemption couldn’t see the fear in his eyes, couldn’t see beneath the mask to the damaged man within. She’d hardly been able to look at him from the moment he’d been possessed, the reminder that he indeed was a vampire seeming to repulse her. She’d allowed the man who had just saved her life to go home alone with barely a word of regret, just excuses about having to placate her mother. He was almost glad of that. He needed some time by himself. To think. To recover. To believe in his love without the reality in Buffy’s face to give the lie to what he so wanted to be true.
Oh hell, he was brooding, and he was lying to himself. He didn’t want to be alone at all. For all his strength, for all the time he had spent fighting the forces of darkness without *and* within, tonight’s events had left him feeling broken and needy. What he craved was a warm, comforting pair of arms to hold him and a soft voice telling him that everything was going to be okay, that he was brave and true and that his soul was mightier than his demon.
Those things, he was all too aware, were not going to be his.
Then the doorbell rang.
Angel’s heart soared for a moment. Buffy was here, she had sensed the truth after all. She really *was* his soulmate, the one who loved *all* of him. But then he noticed something, or rather the *absence* of something. He couldn’t sense the presence of the Slayer. He wondered who else it could possibly be at this hour. It had better not be any of the Scoobies needing his help.
He was almost in game face when he flung open the door and the girl on the other side flinched.
“What is it, Willow?”
He didn’t want to be rude, but he really wasn’t in the mood for company. And if Buffy needed saving again...he wasn’t sure he was in the mood for that either.
“I just... I... I wanted to make sure you were okay. Which you are, so I’ll be going now.”
She quickly turned to leave and Angel instantly felt awful. Here she’d come by to see him out of concern and he’d practically chased her away. He took hold of her arm just before she moved out of reach.
“No, no, Willow. I’m sorry. Please come in.”
“Are you sure? ‘Cause if you’re busy, or you’d just rather be alone, I can go.”
“No, actually, I was just thinking I’d really like some company. I’m glad you came.”
He tried to keep the pleading tone out of his voice, but he was sure he must have sounded almost desperate.
“Really? ‘Cause, no offense, Angel, but you didn’t seem so big with the welcome there just now.”
Despite her uncertainty, she entered the apartment, much to Angel’s almost too intense relief.
“I thought you were the neighbor kids playing a prank again. They’ve been doing that.”
He almost winced. That had to be the lamest excuse ever concocted.
“Oh my gosh. Did you tell their parents?”
Trust Willow to believe him. Her naivete, especially tonight, was like sunshine coming through the clouds.
“I didn’t want to get them in trouble.”
“That’s nice of you.”
She stood in the middle of the apartment and the silence began to feel awkward.
“Would you like to sit down, Willow?”
“Yeah, sure. If I’m not imposing, I mean...”
He interrupted. “Willow, it’s alright. I invited you in, remember?”
“Oh...yeah, I guess you did.”
“What made you come by tonight?”
Angel was honestly curious. She’d said she was here to check on him and see if he was okay, but he wasn’t quite sure what she meant. Of course, it was probably because of how woozy he had been after Eyghon had been cast out of his body, but a part of Angel hoped that maybe she’d noticed something more. Fat chance of that.
“Well, I thought Buffy would be here with you, what with all you went through having that demon inside you and all - the other one, I mean, not the one you usually have, ‘cause that one’s probably not such a big deal after all this time, though maybe it is, I don’t actually know what it’s like to have a demon...”
Angel quirked a questioning eyebrow at her, inwardly wondering how she could possibly go so long without breathing. He tried not think about her words, but she kept on talking and that became impossible.
“Oh, but you want to know why I’m here. Well, like I said, I kinda thought Buffy would be here, but then she called me and she told me she hadn’t even walked you home, not that you really need the Slayer to protect you, because *hello* vampire, but still... and I just thought that maybe somebody should check and see if you were okay and all and, well, I know that it would be better if it was Buffy, but I didn’t really want to say anything to her, so... here I am. Are you okay?”
*There* was the warmth and the understanding he had so desperately wanted, buried in the tangle of Willow’s words, shining from her wide green eyes. It almost undid him. As it was, he found himself unsteady on his feet. She had noticed. Out of all of them, *Willow* - not Buffy - was the one who noticed.
She kept on noticing.
“Angel, do you need to sit down?”
She was at his side in an instant, her normal awkwardness around him seemingly forgotten as she helped him to the sofa and sat down beside him.
“I guess the demon thing really did take a lot out if you, huh? Gosh, Angel, I’m really sorry about that. If I’d thought there was any other way...but the demon would naturally be drawn into a dead body and you’re the only dead guy I know, the only one walking around, I mean, and I knew *your* demon would drive it out and it would have nowhere else to go and then...”
He put his finger to her lips. “It’s okay, Willow. It’s okay. It had to be done. Actually, it was a really clever plan. I’m impressed. I mean, I always knew you were the brains of the outfit, but still...”
He let his words drift off, entranced by the expression on her face. She was beaming, obviously delighted by his compliments. There was a desperate quality to her happiness, though, that he began to sense, as if she was holding onto that joy for dear life, as if she never expected to be thought so well of again, and it took the edge off the warmth he found in her company. He wasn’t the only needy one in the room. It hurt.
“I’m sure you hear stuff like that all the time.”
She didn’t answer. He had known she wouldn’t when he said it and he felt guilty immediately. He had used his words to shut her down, not wanting to deal with someone else’s loneliness and pain. He had been selfish. But he didn’t know how to undo the damage, so he waited for her to say something.
It seemed like the silence might last forever, but just before it became too uncomfortable to bear, she spoke.
“Yeah. Everyone bows down before me.”
The bitterness in her voice was just a faint undercurrent - he wasn’t even sure she was aware of it - but it was there and it stung him. Stung him because he was suddenly mindful of the fact that she too had experienced what it was like to give everything you had and have it be treated with casual disdain. Willow was the brightest one of them all, but everyone - even Angel himself - took her for granted, never acknowledging the importance of her contribution to Buffy’s fight. And now, here she was: the only one out of them all to even see what he had risked for them all tonight.
Why did it have to be *her*? Her presence only made him more aware of his anger, his resentment, and his uncertainty about what he had so wanted to be incontrovertible truth: His love for Buffy. Her love for him. That it was their destiny to be together. For a moment, he almost blamed *Willow* for the way he was feeling. He wished she hadn’t come to see him. It was a relief, however, when her voice broke him out of his reverie. Thinking was almost too painful right now.
“Angel? Maybe I should go. You kinda look like you wanna be alone so...”
She made a move to get up and suddenly what he thought he wanted a moment ago become something he’d do anything to prevent.
“No, please. Please stay.”
The words, and the raw need in his voice, frightened him as he spoke. How could he be so weak, so naked, in front of someone he barely knew?
Perhaps it was because she knew *him*. She had come to *him*, thought of *him*, trusted *him* to defeat Eyghon that night. She had faith in the power of his soul to control his demon and she accepted that both were a part of him. She believed in him. And she’d recognized that this had been no easy fight for him, even as she had trusted in his ability to win it. This was powerful, and it was humbling.
“I... I could really use the company tonight.”
She settled back on the couch and Angel nearly sighed. She was staying. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.
“It was hard.”
Those three words seemed to affect her strongly. The look in her eyes was warm and...full. Just...full. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
“Thank you, Angel.”
“For what?” He was genuinely surprised. Why was she grateful?
“For saving Buffy. And Miss Calendar. And for defeating Eyghon. I mean, I wasn’t even sure the plan would work and you took this huge risk. I mean, letting a demon possess you? That’s really scary. I mean, it is to me, anyway, and I just want you to know that it means a lot. I mean, I’m sure Buffy told you the same thing, but...”
Her voice trailed off. She’d obviously seen the truth in his eyes and didn’t know what else to say.
Buffy had told him none of those things, her expression of thanks dismissive, perfunctory, and devoid of any genuine gratitude. She always took his abilities for granted and hated the powerful reminder tonight had given her of the source of those same abilities. Angel didn’t know how much longer he could force himself to ignore the truth: Buffy could never love his demon, and thus she could never really love *him*.
Without his even noticing, his hand had moved to Willow’s cheek and he was surprised to discover that she didn’t move away, neither guilt nor fear causing her to shrink from his touch.
“I’m the one who should be thanking *you*.”
It was her turn to be puzzled.
“Why?”
“For trusting me. For understanding.” His voice almost broke. The look in her eyes, the way they grew slightly wider as she mulled over his words, imbibing the full measure of meaning behind them, what shone in them was everything he had fantasized lay behind Buffy’s guarded, thoughtless gaze.
If only.
If only he could take Willow in his arms right now, pour his need into that sweet, trusting soul, find solace in her kiss and in the warmth of her soft body. If only he’d seen past the alluring trappings of a tart-ish blonde Slayer to the quiet purity that could have well and truly brought him both redemption and affinity. There might have been a time when Willow could have been his for the taking. But that time wasn’t now.
He needed to shock himself free of the spell of those eyes.
“Xander’s a lucky guy.”
The non sequitur caught her off guard and the pain that shadowed her face for a moment made Angel feel worse than a cad for how he was repaying her kindness.
“It’s that obvious?”
He wanted to lie. To soften the blow he himself had struck by telling her that her feelings were well-hidden, that he was just perceptive. But he couldn’t. He only wished he could believe that the only reason for that was his respect for her, not a fierce jealousy that filled him to the point of wishing for her to be alone forever rather than in the arms of someone else.
He didn’t have to answer, she saw the truth in his face as easily as ever he had seen her hopeless passion for her callow best friend.
“I better go. I kind of snuck out of my house and...well...what if my mom or dad checks in on me? Not that they ever do, but there’s always a first time and...”
Even when she was trying to make an excuse to get away from a painful conversation, she just couldn’t lie. But he didn’t say a word in reply, just let her walk out the door, waiting a moment before following her to make sure she got home safely, though without her even noticing her guardian.
More than anything he wished there was some way to go back to the beginning. To come to Sunnydale anew, to be there for Willow from the beginning, to be the shoulder she leaned on when her childhood friend was turned, to take Xander’s place as her rock, to have never been Buffy’s swain. If there were only a way to do that...
Angel awoke in a panic, though at first he wasn’t sure why. This dream had been no obvious nightmare. Why was he filled with a sense of helplessness and terror?
He could still see it all so clearly in his mind; that alone was unusual and unsettling. Like the one he’d had the night before, tonight’s dream was startlingly realistic. So real, in fact, that it was hard to believe it was a dream at all. But it was. And this dream, like the other, had that same warning about Xander, though far more subtle this time.
For all its realism, however, it wasn’t real. He knew it wasn’t real. He remembered that night. Buffy had walked him home, and he’d had no doubts about his love for her then. Yet when he reached for his actual memories, they were more like faded photographs than living things. The feelings that he had still been able to sense in his recall even when he’d lost his soul weren’t there anymore. He remembered the fact that he had loved Buffy, but not the sensation of it. It was as though someone else had loved her, someone who wasn’t him, souled or no. That was what was frightening.
He went over and over both dreams and realized that both were revisionist not just in terms of events, but in terms of how he felt in so many ways. Yesterday, he’d been so focused on the obvious warnings that he’d missed the subtleties. But tonight the dream had reversed itself and the changes in his feelings stood out in high relief.
He clutched madly at the fraying fabric of what had once been. He had loved Buffy. It had been real and true and profound. It had to have been. If it hadn’t, the loss of his soul had been a small and petty thing, and Willow’s suffering had been caused by nothing but lust and selfishness. He couldn’t bear the thought of that.
What was happening to him?
Since he’d been cursed once more, his focus had been on Willow. For all his brooding, he’d not been introspective. He’d just assumed that he was who he had been the first time he had been cursed, taken it for granted that he’d slipped back into the same skin. But had he?
Looking into his mind, his heart, reaching for the all-encompassing guilt, the self-loathing, the need to atone, all the things that had once completely defined him, he discovered that they weren’t there. Any guilt and self-hatred stemmed from what his soulless self had done to Willow. To his surprise, and even more shockingly, not to his horror, he felt no real guilt about the havoc he’d wreaked on Sunnydale, or even the hideous fate of Cordelia. That was Angelus, not him.
Angelus...not him. This was the difference, and it was stunningly profound. The very fact of his soul being anchored made him someone he had never been before. The precarious state of his soul the first time he had been cursed, even though he hadn’t known it was so, had created the self-hatred, the need to separate himself entirely from his demon while at the same time never feeling that he was truly separate. But now...now he was one being, one harmonious whole, a man unlike anyone he had ever been before. He didn’t feel the same responsibility for every life Angelus had taken, or even for every drink Liam had taken. He wasn’t Liam, or Angelus, or the Angel first brought to life by the gypsy curse, or even simply an amalgam of the three; he was someone new, and now his mind was distancing itself from those previous incarnations, subsuming the memories of who he had been before into the mind of the end product of an evolutionary process he suddenly understood he’d been going through from the moment Darla had turned him, perhaps even before.
He supposed this was a good thing, a blessing even, but feeling as if he had spent centuries as the pawn of some inexorable fate was more than a bit chilling. It took a lot to make a demon feel tiny and helpless, but that was precisely what Angel was experiencing right now.
Willow lay beside him, still sleeping off her exhaustion from the demands of the night. He curled up beside her again, pulling her close and taking comfort from the warmth of her body and the sound of her heartbeat. Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible thing. If she was his destiny, perhaps Fate was no bad master.
TBC...