Rating: FRAO/NC-17 (for references to rape and explicit sex)
Summary: Xander visits and stirs up trouble.
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, lilbreck, and sexymermaid. They know why. I would also like to dedicate this to emnorth and kitty_poker for being such amazing cheerleaders and friends. You guys are awesome. And special thanks to my readers, the most patient and loyal bunch of folks in the world! You are also awesome.
Escape Me Never Chapter Nine
Willow was still asleep when Angel arose, her soft snores making him smile as he looked at her face, so peaceful in repose, the lines of womanly pain finally smoothed around her eyes. His movements were quiet as he put on his robe and began to tidy the room, removing all signs that he slept here. He’d gotten lax on that score of late, but something inside him made him wont to readopt his formerly cautious habits. So he smoothed down the coverlet over his half of the bed, picked up yesterday’s clothes and shoes, and silently exited the bedroom.
He made his way down the hall towards the room that was supposedly his, missing Willow’s presence even as he did so. He wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed next to her, to watch her sleep, to listen to her breathe. But he wouldn’t. His recent carelessness could not continue. As a predator, he knew better than to be unwary, to give his foes a chance to prey on him. It was late in the morning and, while it was highly unlikely at this point, there was still a chance that one of the annoying fools who believed themselves to be Willow’s nearest and dearest might drop by. Better safe than sorry was an excellent maxim and one well worth heeding.
He disposed of his dirty clothing and chose his apparel for the day, lingering over the selection process a bit for reasons of which even he wasn’t quite certain. What with the power and strangeness of his dreams and realizations over the past few days, however, he wasn’t going to question the instincts that guided him; he would let them lead him where they would. So he made a leisurely affair of getting dressed and freshening up, the inability to use a mirror to guide him long since having ceased to be the slightest inconvenience. Still, for the first time in many a long year, he missed being able to see his reflection. Mostly, he thought, because he wondered what Willow saw when she looked at him.
Willow. It wouldn’t do for her to wake up and find him gone. So he rumpled the bed slightly to make it look as if it had been made in haste - a touch he thought added some bachelor authenticity to his ruse, though he was actually quite meticulous in his habits - then exited the room once more, leaving the door enough ajar to make it look as if he expected to return there sometime soon.
Halfway back to his sleeping love, he heard it. The knock at the front door that made him thank whatever had been the source of this morning’s instincts. There was a visitor - a visitor he was prepared for, despite his lack of any conscious foreknowledge of their arrival.
He took the stairs one at a time, not hurrying, but not dawdling either. Who could it be at this hour? It was just before noon and it was Wednesday. Shouldn’t all of the usual intruders be at school at this hour? Sure, he’d thought earlier that there was a theoretical possibility that one of them might show up, but that was more a random conjecture, a notion he’d entertained to encourage himself to readopt habits of punctiliousness and prudence, not an idea he’d seriously considered.
With a sick feeling, he wondered if perhaps Buffy, in some sort of vengeful fit of temper, had told Willow’s parents where she was and they’d come to reclaim her. But no, that wasn’t possible. He had people keeping track of them and they were in Philadelphia right now, well out of reach of any of Willow’s meddling friends. At least that made one thing he didn’t have to worry about.
Now he was steps away from the door and his curiosity would be slaked. He could hear the heartbeat behind the solid wood and he caught a familiar scent...a puzzling and unsettling one.
It was Xander.
What on Earth was the boy doing here? He had once been an annoyingly regular visitor, but, not surprisingly to Angel’s way of thinking, his appearances had dropped precipitously within a few weeks; Willow’s lack of what he would deem progress seeming to leave him with little desire to try to regain her companionship. Angel had figured that her silence and inaptness for the task of serving as his tutor/sounding board any longer had left the boy with no further interest in pretending to be her friend. He’d never believed Xander had any unselfish or genuine feelings of fealty towards the girl who’d once made him the center of her world. So what was the boy doing here in the middle of the day? Especially since Angel’s recent breakup with Buffy had opened up an opportunity Xander had been praying for to whatever gods ruled teenage fantasies since the day Angel had first held Buffy’s hand. Memories of his recent dreams came to mind, but Angel ruthlessly suppressed them. Xander Harris couldn’t actually be a threat to his life with Willow... could he?
There was only one source of answers to Angel’s questions, and that was Xander himself, whose nod to decent manners in the form of his knock at the door was as jarring as his unexpected - and unwelcome - appearance on Angel’s doorstep. So Angel turned the knob and invited Xander to come in.
“So. What brings you here this morning? I would have thought you’d be in school.”
As he spoke, Angel took in the boy’s appearance. He had to admit it was shocking. Gone were the bright eyes and the almost manic, clownish energy. In their place were eyes almost obscured by dark circles and bags underneath that spoke of little sleep and likely nightmares, and the aura of someone both feverishly awake and nearly comatose. There was a desperate, haggard quality to Xander’s mien and his clothes looked more rumpled and disheveled than could be accounted for by his normal lack of sartorial flair. His hair was uncombed, unkempt, and overgrown. He was, in short, an absolute wreck. Angel wondered what had brought the boy to such a state, though his interest was unmixed with sympathy.
“I’m here to see Willow.”
“Really? Just decided out of the blue, after all this time, that you had to see Willow? Guess it’s as good an excuse as any to cut school.” Angel couldn’t keep the disdain out of his voice, not that he actually tried. It was better than manifesting the fear Xander’s role in his dreams had left him with. He remembered the time when Xander had been possessed by the hyena spirit. Best not to show any trace of weakness, even to someone who’d only been at the top of the food chain for the briefest of moments long ago.
“Look, Deadboy, as much as I love these witty exchanges with you, I just want to see Willow, okay?”
Interesting. What had started as snark had ended on a note of pleading Angel knew Xander hadn’t intended. He really was a wreck. And a careless one at that. The boy didn’t seem like much of a threat at all now. Maybe Angel’s dreams had been using Xander to symbolize something or someone else. A voice inside him, however, told him not to get complacent or cocky. After all, the dumb kid had occasionally been known to pop out of the puzzle with something. It would do Angel well to stay wary.
“She might still be asleep. I’ll go check.”
“Why don’t I go up with you?”
“What’s the emergency?” Angel felt like he was on a roller coaster, rocketing back to his former state of fearful concern about what the boy might be up to, and he didn’t like it. He was used to being in control, of knowing the rules of the game and what all the players were up to; he didn’t have that luxury right now and he didn’t like it one bit.
“It’s been weeks since I’ve seen my best friend and I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. How’s that for an emergency?” Xander’s eyes were almost wild and Angel could see that his fatigue had nearly undone him.
“Fine. Come upstairs with me.”
It didn’t surprise him when Xander chose to follow him up the stairs.
Buffy had gone off to fight the Master on her own. Angel had a few choice words for that kind of stupidity. Words like cocky, ridiculous, even suicidal. He had another word for it too - annoying. Because boy was he ever annoyed right now. Traveling through the tunnels on the heels of one Xander Harris was guaranteed to make him pray to be staked, and soon. That boy had to be the most exasperating and plaguesome creature ever born. How else to explain his reluctance to rush off to help the girl who destiny had chosen for him but the fact that Xander had been the one to bring him the news that she was in peril? Of course, that did beg the question of how Buffy could possibly be the love of his unlife if he could be so easily discouraged from wanting to save her, but that was something Angel wanted desperately not to think about. Oh, for a distraction right about now.
And at that moment, there it was. An obnoxious, hate-filled stare shot back at him by Xander.
“What?” Angel couldn’t imagine what on Earth he’d somehow managed to do to piss Xander off just by walking behind him.
“You were looking at my neck.”
For the love of all that was unholy... As if he would even *consider* feeding off of that obnoxious loudmouth. He’d rather eat rats for all eternity than taste one drop of Xander’s blood. First he thinks he can compete for Buffy’s affections and now he thinks Angel wants to sink his fangs in and have a snack? What were they putting in kids’ lunches these days? The boy was well past delusional. His blood would no doubt render any vampire unfortunate enough to drink it completely insane.
“What?!?”
“You checked out my neck. I saw that.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
How far had he come down in the world to be having an argument like this with some ridiculous mortal? For a moment, he wished he didn’t have a soul. How satisfying it would be to end the whole conversation by snapping the very neck under discussion and leaving the boy’s loathsome corpse behind for those rats who were looking mighty tasty right now to devour.
“Just keep your distance, pal.”
“I wasn’t looking at your neck.”
Focus, Angel. Remember the point of this whole excursion. Buffy. Just keep thinking about saving Buffy.
“I told you to eat before we left.”
Maybe the Master would kill Xander. A vampire could dream, couldn’t he?
They made it to Willow’s bedroom without Angel feeling even the slightest threat of being staked in the back. That was a blessing. Though he doubted Xander was in any condition to do him real injury, he hadn’t been sure the boy was rational enough not to try.
Angel knocked gently on her door. “Willow, are you awake? Xander’s here.”
He could hear some rustling movements and knew she was getting out of bed.
“Let’s give her a moment to get dressed, okay?”
Xander looked irritated and impatient, but he said nothing, a fact for which Angel was almost impossibly grateful. It never ceased to amaze him just how aggravating even the smallest sound from Xander could be.
It was a bit startling when the door began to open slowly, but Angel kept his composure, trying not to show how very much he dreaded that Willow’s initiative in granting them entrance might be due to eagerness to see her one-time crush.
She looked so adorable that it was all Angel could do not to take her in his arms. Sleep-tousled hair framing her face; red plaid pajamas with a matching robe; those big, green eyes that never failed to bewitch him. He’d be willing to drink every drop of Xander’s rancid blood in order not to lose this girl.
“Good morning, Willow.”
“Hey, Will.”
Willow said nothing; she simply stepped back and allowed them through the doorway, her eyes moving back and forth between him and Xander uncertainly.
“Could you leave us alone now? I’d like to talk to Willow without you interfering.”
Xander turned and looked at him in that impatient yet apprehensive way again, leaving Angel extremely anxious about what the boy wanted to do. Did he want to turn her against him? Did he want to try to spirit her away? The problem was there was really no way he could refuse Xander’s request. Not now, not without bringing the righteous wrath of Jenny and Giles down on his head. Those self-styled protectors were already becoming more and more suspicious of him, feeling that Willow should be back to her old self by now. Ignorant, insensitive fools.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to refuse. Within seconds of the words leaving Xander’s mouth, Willow was clinging to Angel’s arm, her eyes wide with panic. Willow was refusing for him.
“I’m not going to leave if Willow doesn’t want me to, Xander. I’m sorry. She’s been forced to do things against her will far too many times for me to put her through that again, no matter how good your intentions are.”
Take that, you moron.
Xander’s face took on the look of a deer caught in the headlights of the largest truck ever to barrel down a highway.
“Okay, well, I guess I’ll just have to say what I want to say then.”
He took a huge breath and Angel was more than slightly curious as to what this was all about. Xander was going to spill his guts in front of him? This he had to see.
He guided Willow to sit on the bed and he sat beside her. He had a feeling they would both need to be comfortable for this.
Xander sat down on the other side of Willow, further away from her than Angel, but still too close for his liking.
“I know it’s been a long time since I’ve been here to see you, Will. And I understand if you hate me. I hate me. It’s just that...” Xander was fidgeting nervously, his eyes downcast, focused on some point on the carpet, not on the girl he was addressing. “I couldn’t face you.”
Angel felt Willow flinch as she leaned against him and he fought the urge to smile. Attaboy, Xander, dig your own grave.
Xander somehow seemed to notice the effect his words had on Willow and he sighed, obviously exasperated with himself. Angel tensed.
“I mean...I couldn’t face you because it’s all my fault. Every time I looked at you, every time I thought about what that bastard did to you, I just...I know that none of it would ever have happened if it wasn’t for me. If you hadn’t walked in...hadn’t seen...you’d have been safe in the library and Angelus would never have been able to get to you. You’d be okay.”
Angel could feel the change in Willow’s demeanour and he saw the way her expression changed. She was mulling over Xander’s words and he wished he knew exactly what it was she was thinking. If only the boy’s loathing for him had won out and he’d just left after a few polite words.
Willow was silent, her own eyes downcast. All Angel could do was wait to see how she would react after the boy had finished.
Certainly, some aspects of Xander’s confessional were enjoyable: the pained occlusion of his jaw before he spoke, the humiliation in his eyes, the self-hatred and shame that rolled off him in fragrant waves, perfuming the air with the boy’s palpable misery at laying himself so agonizingly bare in front of the creature he despised more than any other in the world, at exposing the pink underbelly of his emotions and leaving himself shockingly vulnerable. Angel could feel his fangs descend, at least mentally. How raw and wounded the boy was...
But it wasn’t enough. There was still the fact that, with each word that came from that inexpert tongue, Angel could only listen in silent dread, carefully watching Willow’s eyes. Would the next admission be the one that reawakened her feelings for the boy she had once loved, the stake through the heart of all Angel’s dreams and plans for the two of them? After a reign of terror famed throughout the world, after having faced and fought the most skilled and fearsome of enemies, would he, at the end of the day, be brought to his knees by the likes of Xander Harris?
He watched, alarmed, as Xander’s hand moved toward’s Willow’s.
“I know how much I’ve hurt you. I know that it’s my fault - what happened to you, what happened to Cordelia. But Will, you’re my best friend and I’m just hoping...begging you...can you forgive me?”
How much one word could change the course of history, or at least the course of Angel’s life. Willow’s hand had stayed near Xander’s until he’d uttered that one fatal, blessed word: Cordelia. The moment it was spoken, Willow had retreated, leaning back against Angel, seeking comfort from his nearness. It was all he could do not to crow his delight, though he hated that it was bought at the cost of Willow’s peace of mind.
Xander, too, noticed her withdrawal, though Angel wasn’t sure the boy guessed the reason.
Angel arose. “Xander, I think you’ve said enough for today. You can see that Willow needs her rest.”
To his credit, at least by Angel’s way of thinking, Xander appeared to agree. He stood up and walked towards the door.
“I’ll come back tomorrow, okay, Will?”
Willow’s expression changed not one whit and Xander was obviously discouraged. Still, it didn’t stop the boy from reiterating his intentions. “See you then.”
Angel followed him as he left the room. The walk downstairs was a miraculously silent one, the boy too obviously unsettled by his own emotions and mortified at having unburdened himself in front of Angel to say a word to him. At least, that is, until they reached the front door. As he stepped outside, Xander spoke, his voice heavy with fatigue, but nonetheless ominous.
“I’ll be back, Deadboy. You can count on it. She’s my best friend. I might not have done such a great job of proving it so far, but that’s going to change. And once she realizes that I’m here for her, she’s not going to need you anymore.”
There were so many things Angel wanted to say that he nearly bit through his tongue stifling them, but he let the boy have the last word, let him leave thinking he had the upper hand, let him leave without any idea of just how much of a fight he was truly in for. He knew that was the best thing to do, hard as it was. Giving the boy the illusion of winning the battle would go a long way towards winning Angel the war. So he let Xander walk away, turned on his heel, and made his way back upstairs to Willow’s room.
She was staring off into space and Angel knew she was lost in the memories that Xander had reawakened. Those horrible memories of the night Cordelia had died. He took her in his arms.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry he upset you. I should have told him to leave. I had no idea he intended to put you through this.”
She held him close, returning his embrace, and Angel felt something akin to ecstasy, despite her pain. She needed him, needed him more than any of her friends, needed him to save her from her friends. He lost himself in her warmth, her scent, her nearness.
The unaccustomed ring of his cellular phone shattered the moment and Angel gave silent thanks it had not rung while Xander was still about. He’d forgotten to remove it from the drawer in the bedside table. The call had to be important. Only one person had his phone number: the man who Angel was counting on to make his dreams for the future come true. He extricated himself reluctantly from Willow’s arms.
“I have to take that call, sweetling. It’s important.”
He went to the drawer and pulled out the phone, quickly pushing the button to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Angelus? I have excellent news.”
“Yes?”
“The arrangements have all been made. Travel, transferring your accounts, the necessary documents, the houses - everything.”
“That is excellent news.” He kept his tone businesslike. The man on the other end of the line, after all, worked for a soulless killer, a demon.
“Tomorrow night at 11:30, a limousine will be there to take you to the airport. From there, a private plane will take you to Montreal, where you’ll board another plane which will take you to Berlin. I trust that meets with your approval.”
“It does.” While he maintained the same calm tone of voice, he couldn’t stop himself from grinning and Willow looked at him curiously. He held up one finger, signaling her that he would explain in a moment.
“As you requested, I’ve made sure the charter company is an exceptionally discreet one and that you and your companion will not be traveling to any cities you have been known to favour in the past.”
“Very good. We’ll be ready tomorrow night then. I expect there won’t be any unforeseen complications?” The tone in his voice held a hint of menace, just as Angelus would have done.
“No, indeed, sir. Every contingency has been planned for, I assure you.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’m counting on it.” He let his tone convey just what might be in store for the man should he be wrong.
“Yes, sir. You can rely on me”
Angel hung up the phone without another word and turned to Willow.
“I have the most wonderful surprise for you. We’re going on vacation. Somewhere far away where we can both relax and enjoy ourselves. You’ll like that, won’t you?”
He hadn’t been quite sure how she’d react, but he had to admit he’d hoped for delight. Her expression dashed those hopes. However, he chided himself, how enthusiastic could he truly expect her to be in her current state? Reminded just moments ago of his darkest deeds by that insensitive twit, Xander Harris.
He took her by the hand and pulled her down to sit next to him on the bed.
“Sweetling, I know you’re upset right now. So am I. I hate the memories of what happened to you, of what Angelus did to you. But don’t you see? That’s why it’s such a good idea for the two of us to get away right now, to go someplace where we don’t have to think about any of this, where we can just be together, without any reminders of the past.”
There was still a look of concern on her face. Angel hated himself for what he was about to say. He said it anyway.
“It’s just for a couple of weeks. We’ll come back. I promise. And you’ll feel so much better after a nice vacation, the chance to take your mind off of everything that’s happened. You’ll see. You’ll come back feeling better than ever.”
That did it. She believed in him. She trusted him. Now he had the reaction he was looking for, and it was worth every lie. Once they were away, after all, she’d be so caught up in seeing new places, in exploring museums and parks and attending concerts, that she wouldn’t want to return to Sunnydale anyway.
He watched her bounce on her toes, the joyful smile on her face illuminating the room with the glow of her enthusiasm, and it was there, right in front of him, the proof of what he’d lately suspected. This was Willow, whole and entire. She was still Willow. She had never truly been lost.
Oh certainly, the babble, much as he missed it, was gone. But the energy, the bright-eyed fervor with which she had embraced each new experience, even the terrors of aiding the Slayer, was still there. It was just that she’d had to find different ways to express her feelings.
The eager flow of words that had once been her trademark, almost tripping over themselves as they were spoken, was likely stanched forever, dammed up in the furthest oblivion of her psyche by the insurmountable wall of having watched those words turned into thrusts of cock and fang into the body of a girl whose murder had been cynically laid to her account. But Willow’s nature? Her childlike spirit, agile mind, and open heart? Those things were never destroyed, never even broken. They had just lain quiet as she waited for the safety in which to be once more.
He looked at her for a moment with something akin to awe. Once, like everyone else, his perceptions of Willow had been predicated on the belief that she’d succumbed in much the same fashion as Drusilla had. Yet, as he had recently come to realize, those perceptions had been so very wrong. Her mind was no solid thing, instead, it had a plasticine malleability that gave it a supernatural capacity to adapt. He’d suspected as much, it was true, but he hadn’t realized just how accurate his suspicions had been...and just how short they had fallen in terms of understanding just how great the scale and scope of her divergence from the well-worn path of Angelus’ other victims truly was. As if her precocious erudition hadn’t been impressive enough, she’d somehow hidden the core of her being like some precious jewel kept well secreted from the depredations of the most cunning and cruel of thieves. What other marvels lay concealed in the labyrinthine depths of her psyche? One thing was certain - he was going to vastly enjoy finding out.
He pulled her into his arms once more, feeling her smile warm him as much as her body. If it had taken a few lies to get her to this place, what was the harm in that? She loved him. She would forgive him. Once they were far away, she’d see that he had done what was best for the both of them.
He thought about the dreams and about Xander’s words. Foolish boy. He wasn’t going to have the smallest chance at regaining his former place in Willow’s life. Soon, so very soon, Angel and Willow would be well out of Sunnydale, and neither Xander nor any of her other so-called friends would ever be able to take her away from him. His smile matched Willow’s as he continued to hold her close.