escritoireazul (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
escritoireazul) wrote2006-05-14 09:29 pm
escritoireazul) wrote2006-05-14 09:29 pm
Entry tags:
[btvs fic] pieces of me (ten again)
title: pieces of me (ten again)
author: Carla
disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns the characters.
distribution: Escritoire Azul
rating: 16+
dedication: written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dragonydreams as a back-up story for the Happy Endings ficathon
spoilers: breaks off part of the way through season four of Buffy, season one of Angel, but though it is AU after that point, it does contain some of the big spoilers for later Buffy seasons
pairings: Willow/Oz, Buffy/Angel, Buffy/Riley, Willow/Angel, Willow/Spike, Angel/Willow/Spike
length: 3900+
summary: Willow doesn't see anything wrong with dating a beast.
I.
Three hundred and forty-two.
That’s the number of stuffed frogs Willow has at last count.
She doesn’t count them, she can barely stand to look at them, but each time Spike brings her a new one, he torments her with it, makes a ribbiting noise, and rubs it up and down her arms until she screams and scrambles away. Then he puts it in one of the spare bedrooms to join all the others (most of them crammed in boxes in the closets) and brings her an updated total. He’s always so proud of himself she can’t stay mad. At least stuffed frogs aren’t slimy, and they don’t hop around by themselves.
II.
One time, they do hop around by themselves.
Well, themselves and a little bit of magic. A whole lot of magic, actually, and much more than she thinks anyone would stick in a charm and sell to a vampire. She is very frustrated, because when Spike reaches ten whole stuffed frogs, she gets a little worried and goes through all her spell books to make sure there isn’t one about bringing stuffed animals to life, or even just to make them move in a realistic fashion, because it is exactly the kind of thing Spike would do when he has too much time on his hands.
There are three spells in two books which might work, and she makes sure to hide them. Not in their room, and not in the hotel collection, but behind her desk at work, where Spike never goes. It makes her feel like Giles, bringing books about magic into a high school, and she thinks about calling him, but she has no current number.
It’s all for naught anyway, because Spike has money to spend on bought magic.
III.
Willow doesn’t really talk to anyone from Sunnydale.
At least not anyone who stayed there after high school, because if she’s technical, and Willow often is, Cordelia is from Sunnydale, and she talks to her all the time, plus Angel and Spike both lived there for awhile (different lengths of time, but neither very long for a vampire), and she definitely talks to them. Sometimes she even talks to herself.
She doesn’t talk to her parents, though, and not even to Xander. She hasn’t seen Giles since the day he came to Los Angeles to tell her Buffy died, and Xander and Anya were going to take care of Dawn.
IV.
Willow remembers Dawn, slightly.
She is always the quiet girl, trailing after Buffy like a puppy, and Willow likes her, in that best-friend’s-annoying-little-sister way. Sometimes Willow and Xander are stuck with her because Buffy always wants a chance to sneak off to see Angel, and thinks Dawn is way too young to know her sister is the Slayer and dating a vampire. Or dating at all, Buffy says Dawn didn’t need to know about boys until she’s thirty or so.
It isn’t so bad, the nights they cover for Buffy and take care of Dawn, she is really good at board games and Willow has plenty of time to watch Xander out of the corner of her eyes, still too shy to look directly at him for fear she will give away her crush.
Later, when Oz enters the picture, she realizes Dawn looks at Xander the same way.
V.
It all starts with Oz, and all ends with him, too.
Willow looks at life as before and after. Not before and after she meets Buffy and finds out about all the nasty things in life, the vampires and werewolves and demons, oh my, but the before and after of believing in love blindly, naively.
So she is happy in the before, deliriously, dangerously happy, and miserable in the after, so miserable no one knows what to say or what to do, except for Buffy, who knows when to hold her and say “I love you” and who knows when to get help.
VI.
“I wouldn’t call, you know, because we agreed it’s better this way, but,” Buffy sighs, a long, slow release of air, “you help people, and I could really use some help.”
Willow burrows farther under her blankets and tries to tune her out, but it’s hard. Buffy is on the far side of their room, and at first, when she asks to speak to Angel, her voice is soft, but it gets louder and louder as she dances back and forth through the social niceties, until now Willow can’t help but hear.
“No, no, nothing like that, I’m fine, it’s just,” Buffy lowers her voice, but not nearly enough, Buffy is always much louder than she realizes, “Willow’s having a hard time, and I’m worried about her.”
There is a long pause, the danger to eavesdropping on a phone call, but Willow can’t bring herself to care. She tries, because it’s her life under discussion, being dissected by a vampire slayer and a vampire, but all her feelings are muffled, coated in something heavier than the blankets piled over her body.
“I just think a change of scene….” For awhile Buffy’s voice is too soft to hear, but she doesn’t keep quiet for long. “Oh, yeah, there’s a situation with Spike, too. Bye.”
The edge of the bed dips under Buffy’s weight when she sits down, enough warning that Willow tenses before Buffy touches her back through the covers.
“Angel’s coming for a visit,” Buffy says, and her hand rubs lightly. She barely stumbles over his name, and Willow wishes she could feel something, because she would be proud of Buffy for handling the conversation with him so well. Buffy pulls the blanket off Willow’s head, leans down, and presses a kiss to her temple. “I hope he knows how to help you.”
VII.
That’s the problem, right there, Buffy is looking for a way to solve Willow’s pain, but there isn’t any.
Willow knows she needs time, she knows eventually the hurt will fade, but no one wants to give it to her. Part of it is their world, when you know there’s life and death every night, broken hearts don’t really seem all that important.
Buffy doesn’t understand Willow’s retreat into herself, she understands hitting things, breaking things, killing things, and just isn’t as comfortable with the softer side of life. Even when she herself hurts, she doesn’t spend her time buried under the covers, she goes outside and hits things, or she runs far away.
In the spur of the moment, when Willow was in danger, and Riley saved her from the car, the stupid thing she hadn’t seen, Buffy knew how to hold her, let her cry, but now, after, when it hurts so much Willow can’t even consider speaking, because it hurts too much to think, and move, and just breathe, Buffy hovers and flutters and doesn’t really help.
Willow listens a lot more than she talks, because words hurt and take more energy than she has, and she hears Buffy and Xander try to figure out a way to deal with her, and a reason why she is taking it so hard for so long.
After all, she didn’t send Oz to a hell dimension or make him evil so he wanted to end the world or anything really bad at all. Sure it hurt, they understand that, but why won’t she talk? Or smile? Or at least try not to punish herself for something that’s not her fault anyway?
VIII.
When Angel comes, Buffy runs away, but Willow still can’t blame her.
Before she leaves, Buffy strokes the hair away from Willow’s face, combs out the tangles with her fingers. Willow closes her eyes and, though it doesn’t make her relax (can she even relax when she’s not in bed, but she’s been in the same chair for hours), it does feel nice, distant but pleasant. A memory of something lovely.
“I have to patrol.” Buffy hesitates. “I can’t be here when he comes, but I know he’ll be able to help. Do you want anything before I leave? Dinner? Dessert? A singing, dancing foreign musical you won’t understand?”
Willow shakes her head.
Buffy sighs, and walks away. When she returns, she puts two bags at Willow’s feet, duffel bags she’s filled with some of Willow’s things. “Going away will help,” she says, and then repeats it to make the promise stick. “Going away will help, the change of scenery and being away from all the memories. Try to relax and feel better. I love you.”
Sometime after Buffy leaves, Willow slumps in the chair. “I love you, too,” she whispers, but her voice isn’t strong enough to hit all the syllables, and it comes out even more broken than she feels.
IX.
Spike is even worse than she is when they arrive.
Angel knocks him out before they get in the car, and shovels him into the back seat, ties his hands and feet together, and makes sure Willow is comfortable up front. He buckles her seat belt for her, and she slumps sideways against the door.
They’re all silent during the drive to Los Angeles, and it’s a nice silence. Whenever Buffy or Xander are around and it’s quiet, they can’t sit still, tug at their clothes, fiddle with a stake, and are obviously uncomfortable because she’s not babbling.
Willow likes the silence, and even though she knows it should remind her of Oz, it really doesn’t. It’s hers, she’s claimed it, and it’s the only thing which doesn’t hurt.
Somehow Angel seems to know this, because he gets her settled in his bedroom, shows her clean towels in the bathroom, and leaves her alone. That’s nice, and it’s just what she needs, to lay down in cool sheets which don’t carry the imagined scent of Oz, which have no memories.
X.
In the third week, Cordelia makes a comment, something inane, which makes Gunn roll his eyes and crack about rich white girls, and Willow laughs.
At first it’s soft and rusty and unfamiliar across her tongue, but then it builds and builds until she can’t control it, until it all bursts out and there’s tears and gulping for air and Angel’s big arms around her.
She cries, soaks his shirt, but when she’s done, she feels a lot better, cleaner even though she hasn’t really showered in awhile and she knows she absolutely reeks, but Angel doesn’t say anything about it. It bothers her, though, and she scurries off to get clean, to wash the grease from her hair.
When she comes out, in fresh clothes, still damp and shiny, Angel asks if she’s hungry. For the first time in a very long time, she is really hungry, starving.
He orders in so much food they have leftovers for a week.
XI.
Time passes simultaneously too slow and too fast for her, until whenever she thinks about returning to Sunnydale, it’s no longer an option.
Buffy calls all the time, to check on her, to share news about Riley and Xander and Dawn. Once she calls and only talks to Angel, and Angel whisks Willow away for a few days out of town, along the beaches north of them. Later she finds out Oz had returned, and was looking for her, and she is only upset for a few minutes that she didn’t see him. She knows they are just trying to help, still, but wishes they would have given her a choice.
She tells Angel it bothers her, and they talk about it, which is a nice change from Buffy not knowing what to say, and vice versa, if Willow is honest with herself. He listens to everything she says, and speaks about his own thoughts clearly, and before she knows it, they start to have long conversations all the time.
XII.
She still hates change, but she is learning to embrace it.
When they first move into the hotel, Willow gets her own room, as well as a big library to fill with books and computers for research. She has two desks, one for the computer work she does for Angel and one for her schoolwork.
It isn’t hard to transfer to UCLA, she only spends a few hours on the phone, and the paperwork takes the most time, but it distracts her from the last thing she wants, which is to actually think about her daydreams, which have been starring Angel more and more often.
She looks for a pet, too, to distract her, but the fish don’t help at all (if anything they remind her of him all the time, and exactly why she shouldn’t dream about him), and the cat is lovely, but takes to Cordelia more than to her.
Spike provides a good distraction for awhile, and she decides to help him settle into drinking bagged blood and fighting for the side of good, because it’s taking him a long time to accept his life has changed. Then he turns out to be actually interesting when he’s not drunk or trying to kill her friends. He is a good storyteller, and knows all sorts of secrets about Angel (even though they are really about Angelus), and after awhile he both helps and hinders her attempt to put Angel out of her mind, because his stories keep thoughts of Angel close at hand, but Spike starts to feature in some, too.
Willow throws herself into magic to try to ignore both of them, and Wesley turns out to be much more help than she ever received from Giles, which makes her feel guilty, but no more guilty than falling for someone her best friend loves.
XIII.
Willow still thinks of Buffy as her best friend.
Even though she doesn’t talk to her very often, if asked, she would name Buffy, because she’s so busy trying not to think about Angel and Spike she doesn’t notice how much she enjoys talking to Cordelia, despite everything in their past, or the way she turns to Angel whenever something goes wrong, or the way she talks to Spike when she needs someone to make her laugh.
Buffy’s phone calls taper off, because she’s so busy with Dawn, and she and Riley have problems, and that’s about all Willow knows until Giles walks through the front door. He looks old, extra lines on his face, and he has sad eyes. It has been weeks, maybe months, since she talked to anyone in Sunnydale.
He says Buffy is dead, and Willow has to sit down. Her heart beats too fast and too loud, it is making her deaf. Spike sits down next to her, and Cordelia leans on the back of the chair. Wesley and Gunn are out on a job, so Angel faces Giles alone.
Giles doesn’t stay long, just gives the news and leaves. Angel’s face is blank and dark when he turns around, but he doesn’t say anything about it, just asks Willow if she’s going to be all right, and then says he’ll see them later.
XIV.
Angel is in bed when Willow goes to find him.
It’s not like when she hid after Oz left. The dark sheets are only pulled up to his stomach, and his chest is bare. She blushes, her cheeks hot, but she came here for a reason. Two reasons, actually, to check on him and because she really needs a hug.
He looks like he’s asleep, but it’s hard to tell since he doesn’t breathe. Willow plays with the hem of her t-shirt, tugs on it as she debates. She can try to wake him, or she can just go away and come back later.
Or she can crawl in and put her arms around him, which is what she really wants to do. She needs that hug, she can’t believe how bad a friend she was to Buffy. It was easier to stay away from Sunnydale, and Buffy had responsibilities there. Willow didn’t even go back when Joyce died, she sent flowers and a card, and Angel disappeared for a couple days. She knew he was there, and she couldn’t go and watch him be with Buffy.
But she should have been there to help. She should have tried to save Buffy.
Willow sits down on the edge of the bed. It isn’t anything creepy or obsessive, she won’t even get beneath the covers, she just needs to lean against him for awhile, touch him, and relax.
She scoots closer, slowly, just an inch at a time. Her arm brushes Angel’s, and she lays still, the touch not quite enough, but she is nervous and sad and exhausted, and can’t tell how far is too far.
Angel rolls, before she even knows he is awake, puts his arm around her, and pulls her against his chest. Willow’s breath catches and her heart beat jerks, but he doesn’t do anything else, he doesn’t say a word, and she is finally able to relax and sleep.
XV.
Willow wakes up between Angel and Spike.
It is disorienting, waking up in a darkened room; her windows face east and she likes the way the sun warms the floor. It takes her a minute to remember she is with Angel, in his bed, and that’s why the body on one side has no heart beat, no rise and fall of the chest with each breath.
It doesn’t explain why there is a body on the other side, too.
She blinks and turns her head; Spike’s eyes are closed, and he looks almost innocent, if she ignores the faint red smeared at the corner of his mouth and everything she knows about his past.
“Morning,” Angel murmurs, shifts his body, and pulls her closer.
It has to be a dream, Angel holding her and Spike in the bed, it just can’t be real. Willow closes her eyes and falls back asleep, or back into her sleep, and doesn’t question it, not when it’s so nice, to have them both right there.
XVI.
Angel kisses her for the first time in the hallway outside her room.
When she wakes again, she’s alone in his bed, and she sneaks back into her own. She doesn’t see either Spike or Angel for two nights, but on the third, Angel catches her after her shower. She wears a robe, a towel in a turban around her head, and he’s fully dressed, but he acts more uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” he says first, but doesn’t explain why he’s sorry. She shrugs and smiles a little, ducks her head.
“It’s fine, I’m sorry I just crawled into your bed, but I needed—it just hurt so much.”
“I know.”
There’s an awkward silence, and then, when she turns to her door and starts to say goodnight, he grabs her shoulders, pulls her around, and kisses her. It’s an awkward angle and her neck really hurts after a second, but his lips are firm, and his hands grip her shoulders, and heat zings through her body.
XVII.
Spike kisses her for the first time in Angel’s room.
When she goes to look for Angel, Spike is sitting on the edge of his bed. She doesn’t get a chance to ask why, she just stares for a minute, and then he’s standing in front of her. “Peaches is off saving the world,” he says, “or buying more gel for his hair. Couldn’t quite tell which, but either way, it was an emergency.”
“Oh.” Willow frowns. She normally knows whatever is going on, and Angel always tells her when he has to break a date. (Sometimes the emergency becomes the date, and she likes research and averting the apocalypse, so she doesn’t mind one bit.)
While she mulls over his strange, unannounced disappearance, Spike kisses her. He’s not a lot taller than she is, and it doesn’t make her neck ache like Angel’s kisses do when they go on too long, and it’s actually a very good kiss, but it’s wrong.
She pulls away, holds up both hands. “No, Spike, Angel….”
Spike grins, and it’s a dangerous and feral and way too hot.
“I told you about Angelus, Darla, and me.” Spike’s grin darkens. “Dru broke all that, but before, you never thought, from my stories, it wasn’t just Angelus and Darla?”
Willow’s eyes go wide. She really hasn’t thought about that, just has sweaty dreams about them, and maybe she did wake up between them in bed, but that doesn’t mean anything.
Spike watches her as she backs out of the room, but once she can’t see him anymore, she still can’t get the thought of Angel and Spike out of her mind, nor can she forget his kiss.
XVIII.
There’s a lot of alcohol involved the first time she asks Angel about it.
She’s not drunk, but she’s a little tipsy, and everyone is drinking too much and celebrating another successful world saving mission. Willow stays near Angel, and watches him drink only one glass of wine.
“Angel,” she sits in his lap, snakes her arms around his neck, “question.” She only slurs her words a little. “You, Spike, and Darla—I know you terrorized the world together and all, but were you…did you also….”
She blushes and trails off, but Angel doesn’t fill in the blanks for her.
“Were you all three having sex?”
Angel smiles, just a little, and kisses her forehead. The he turns to Spike, who mysteriously appears out of nowhere. “I told you to take it slow.”
Willow tilts her head and frowns.
“My way works better,” Spike says, leans in, and kisses her again. This time she cups her hand around the back of his neck and kisses him back.
XIX.
They have sex, all three of them, for the first time on vacation in England, Spike’s choice so he can watch the football games.
Angel still worries about losing his soul, so most of it takes place between Spike and Willow, but Angel is right there, touching them, his hands on Willow’s breasts, his mouth on Spike’s shoulder, his fingers everywhere.
Willow clutches Spike, drags her nails down his back, and watches as Angel takes himself in hand, strokes to the rhythm of Spike’s thrusts. It’s gorgeous and sexy and Willow stares while she bucks and shudders and comes hard, Spike’s fingers between their bodies, between her legs.
XX.
Spike gives her the first stuffed frog before they leave England.
He puts it in a shiny gift bag, and she opens it eagerly, expecting chocolates (she’s fallen in love with British candy), and gives a little scream when she sees it, even though she knows it’s not real.
Spike laughs and lights a cigarette, and even Angel smiles. It’s his turn to laugh when she hits Spike over the head with the bag, knocks the cigarette out of his mouth, but he just swoops her up in his arms and kisses her, growling something about revenge and a wasted fag.
When they get home, everyone else is careful not to say anything, but it’s obvious everyone knows what is really going on. Finally Cordelia snarks something at them, and the tension eases.
They all keep their own rooms, but also move into one of the suites. It’s just easier that way, and gives them time together as well as places to be alone when things get frustrating, and things do go wrong, they fight the good fight and fight each other too, but Angel and Spike don’t walk away from her, and Willow has never seen anything wrong with dating a beast.
author: Carla
disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns the characters.
distribution: Escritoire Azul
rating: 16+
dedication: written for
dragonydreams as a back-up story for the Happy Endings ficathonspoilers: breaks off part of the way through season four of Buffy, season one of Angel, but though it is AU after that point, it does contain some of the big spoilers for later Buffy seasons
pairings: Willow/Oz, Buffy/Angel, Buffy/Riley, Willow/Angel, Willow/Spike, Angel/Willow/Spike
length: 3900+
summary: Willow doesn't see anything wrong with dating a beast.
I.
Three hundred and forty-two.
That’s the number of stuffed frogs Willow has at last count.
She doesn’t count them, she can barely stand to look at them, but each time Spike brings her a new one, he torments her with it, makes a ribbiting noise, and rubs it up and down her arms until she screams and scrambles away. Then he puts it in one of the spare bedrooms to join all the others (most of them crammed in boxes in the closets) and brings her an updated total. He’s always so proud of himself she can’t stay mad. At least stuffed frogs aren’t slimy, and they don’t hop around by themselves.
II.
One time, they do hop around by themselves.
Well, themselves and a little bit of magic. A whole lot of magic, actually, and much more than she thinks anyone would stick in a charm and sell to a vampire. She is very frustrated, because when Spike reaches ten whole stuffed frogs, she gets a little worried and goes through all her spell books to make sure there isn’t one about bringing stuffed animals to life, or even just to make them move in a realistic fashion, because it is exactly the kind of thing Spike would do when he has too much time on his hands.
There are three spells in two books which might work, and she makes sure to hide them. Not in their room, and not in the hotel collection, but behind her desk at work, where Spike never goes. It makes her feel like Giles, bringing books about magic into a high school, and she thinks about calling him, but she has no current number.
It’s all for naught anyway, because Spike has money to spend on bought magic.
III.
Willow doesn’t really talk to anyone from Sunnydale.
At least not anyone who stayed there after high school, because if she’s technical, and Willow often is, Cordelia is from Sunnydale, and she talks to her all the time, plus Angel and Spike both lived there for awhile (different lengths of time, but neither very long for a vampire), and she definitely talks to them. Sometimes she even talks to herself.
She doesn’t talk to her parents, though, and not even to Xander. She hasn’t seen Giles since the day he came to Los Angeles to tell her Buffy died, and Xander and Anya were going to take care of Dawn.
IV.
Willow remembers Dawn, slightly.
She is always the quiet girl, trailing after Buffy like a puppy, and Willow likes her, in that best-friend’s-annoying-little-sister way. Sometimes Willow and Xander are stuck with her because Buffy always wants a chance to sneak off to see Angel, and thinks Dawn is way too young to know her sister is the Slayer and dating a vampire. Or dating at all, Buffy says Dawn didn’t need to know about boys until she’s thirty or so.
It isn’t so bad, the nights they cover for Buffy and take care of Dawn, she is really good at board games and Willow has plenty of time to watch Xander out of the corner of her eyes, still too shy to look directly at him for fear she will give away her crush.
Later, when Oz enters the picture, she realizes Dawn looks at Xander the same way.
V.
It all starts with Oz, and all ends with him, too.
Willow looks at life as before and after. Not before and after she meets Buffy and finds out about all the nasty things in life, the vampires and werewolves and demons, oh my, but the before and after of believing in love blindly, naively.
So she is happy in the before, deliriously, dangerously happy, and miserable in the after, so miserable no one knows what to say or what to do, except for Buffy, who knows when to hold her and say “I love you” and who knows when to get help.
VI.
“I wouldn’t call, you know, because we agreed it’s better this way, but,” Buffy sighs, a long, slow release of air, “you help people, and I could really use some help.”
Willow burrows farther under her blankets and tries to tune her out, but it’s hard. Buffy is on the far side of their room, and at first, when she asks to speak to Angel, her voice is soft, but it gets louder and louder as she dances back and forth through the social niceties, until now Willow can’t help but hear.
“No, no, nothing like that, I’m fine, it’s just,” Buffy lowers her voice, but not nearly enough, Buffy is always much louder than she realizes, “Willow’s having a hard time, and I’m worried about her.”
There is a long pause, the danger to eavesdropping on a phone call, but Willow can’t bring herself to care. She tries, because it’s her life under discussion, being dissected by a vampire slayer and a vampire, but all her feelings are muffled, coated in something heavier than the blankets piled over her body.
“I just think a change of scene….” For awhile Buffy’s voice is too soft to hear, but she doesn’t keep quiet for long. “Oh, yeah, there’s a situation with Spike, too. Bye.”
The edge of the bed dips under Buffy’s weight when she sits down, enough warning that Willow tenses before Buffy touches her back through the covers.
“Angel’s coming for a visit,” Buffy says, and her hand rubs lightly. She barely stumbles over his name, and Willow wishes she could feel something, because she would be proud of Buffy for handling the conversation with him so well. Buffy pulls the blanket off Willow’s head, leans down, and presses a kiss to her temple. “I hope he knows how to help you.”
VII.
That’s the problem, right there, Buffy is looking for a way to solve Willow’s pain, but there isn’t any.
Willow knows she needs time, she knows eventually the hurt will fade, but no one wants to give it to her. Part of it is their world, when you know there’s life and death every night, broken hearts don’t really seem all that important.
Buffy doesn’t understand Willow’s retreat into herself, she understands hitting things, breaking things, killing things, and just isn’t as comfortable with the softer side of life. Even when she herself hurts, she doesn’t spend her time buried under the covers, she goes outside and hits things, or she runs far away.
In the spur of the moment, when Willow was in danger, and Riley saved her from the car, the stupid thing she hadn’t seen, Buffy knew how to hold her, let her cry, but now, after, when it hurts so much Willow can’t even consider speaking, because it hurts too much to think, and move, and just breathe, Buffy hovers and flutters and doesn’t really help.
Willow listens a lot more than she talks, because words hurt and take more energy than she has, and she hears Buffy and Xander try to figure out a way to deal with her, and a reason why she is taking it so hard for so long.
After all, she didn’t send Oz to a hell dimension or make him evil so he wanted to end the world or anything really bad at all. Sure it hurt, they understand that, but why won’t she talk? Or smile? Or at least try not to punish herself for something that’s not her fault anyway?
VIII.
When Angel comes, Buffy runs away, but Willow still can’t blame her.
Before she leaves, Buffy strokes the hair away from Willow’s face, combs out the tangles with her fingers. Willow closes her eyes and, though it doesn’t make her relax (can she even relax when she’s not in bed, but she’s been in the same chair for hours), it does feel nice, distant but pleasant. A memory of something lovely.
“I have to patrol.” Buffy hesitates. “I can’t be here when he comes, but I know he’ll be able to help. Do you want anything before I leave? Dinner? Dessert? A singing, dancing foreign musical you won’t understand?”
Willow shakes her head.
Buffy sighs, and walks away. When she returns, she puts two bags at Willow’s feet, duffel bags she’s filled with some of Willow’s things. “Going away will help,” she says, and then repeats it to make the promise stick. “Going away will help, the change of scenery and being away from all the memories. Try to relax and feel better. I love you.”
Sometime after Buffy leaves, Willow slumps in the chair. “I love you, too,” she whispers, but her voice isn’t strong enough to hit all the syllables, and it comes out even more broken than she feels.
IX.
Spike is even worse than she is when they arrive.
Angel knocks him out before they get in the car, and shovels him into the back seat, ties his hands and feet together, and makes sure Willow is comfortable up front. He buckles her seat belt for her, and she slumps sideways against the door.
They’re all silent during the drive to Los Angeles, and it’s a nice silence. Whenever Buffy or Xander are around and it’s quiet, they can’t sit still, tug at their clothes, fiddle with a stake, and are obviously uncomfortable because she’s not babbling.
Willow likes the silence, and even though she knows it should remind her of Oz, it really doesn’t. It’s hers, she’s claimed it, and it’s the only thing which doesn’t hurt.
Somehow Angel seems to know this, because he gets her settled in his bedroom, shows her clean towels in the bathroom, and leaves her alone. That’s nice, and it’s just what she needs, to lay down in cool sheets which don’t carry the imagined scent of Oz, which have no memories.
X.
In the third week, Cordelia makes a comment, something inane, which makes Gunn roll his eyes and crack about rich white girls, and Willow laughs.
At first it’s soft and rusty and unfamiliar across her tongue, but then it builds and builds until she can’t control it, until it all bursts out and there’s tears and gulping for air and Angel’s big arms around her.
She cries, soaks his shirt, but when she’s done, she feels a lot better, cleaner even though she hasn’t really showered in awhile and she knows she absolutely reeks, but Angel doesn’t say anything about it. It bothers her, though, and she scurries off to get clean, to wash the grease from her hair.
When she comes out, in fresh clothes, still damp and shiny, Angel asks if she’s hungry. For the first time in a very long time, she is really hungry, starving.
He orders in so much food they have leftovers for a week.
XI.
Time passes simultaneously too slow and too fast for her, until whenever she thinks about returning to Sunnydale, it’s no longer an option.
Buffy calls all the time, to check on her, to share news about Riley and Xander and Dawn. Once she calls and only talks to Angel, and Angel whisks Willow away for a few days out of town, along the beaches north of them. Later she finds out Oz had returned, and was looking for her, and she is only upset for a few minutes that she didn’t see him. She knows they are just trying to help, still, but wishes they would have given her a choice.
She tells Angel it bothers her, and they talk about it, which is a nice change from Buffy not knowing what to say, and vice versa, if Willow is honest with herself. He listens to everything she says, and speaks about his own thoughts clearly, and before she knows it, they start to have long conversations all the time.
XII.
She still hates change, but she is learning to embrace it.
When they first move into the hotel, Willow gets her own room, as well as a big library to fill with books and computers for research. She has two desks, one for the computer work she does for Angel and one for her schoolwork.
It isn’t hard to transfer to UCLA, she only spends a few hours on the phone, and the paperwork takes the most time, but it distracts her from the last thing she wants, which is to actually think about her daydreams, which have been starring Angel more and more often.
She looks for a pet, too, to distract her, but the fish don’t help at all (if anything they remind her of him all the time, and exactly why she shouldn’t dream about him), and the cat is lovely, but takes to Cordelia more than to her.
Spike provides a good distraction for awhile, and she decides to help him settle into drinking bagged blood and fighting for the side of good, because it’s taking him a long time to accept his life has changed. Then he turns out to be actually interesting when he’s not drunk or trying to kill her friends. He is a good storyteller, and knows all sorts of secrets about Angel (even though they are really about Angelus), and after awhile he both helps and hinders her attempt to put Angel out of her mind, because his stories keep thoughts of Angel close at hand, but Spike starts to feature in some, too.
Willow throws herself into magic to try to ignore both of them, and Wesley turns out to be much more help than she ever received from Giles, which makes her feel guilty, but no more guilty than falling for someone her best friend loves.
XIII.
Willow still thinks of Buffy as her best friend.
Even though she doesn’t talk to her very often, if asked, she would name Buffy, because she’s so busy trying not to think about Angel and Spike she doesn’t notice how much she enjoys talking to Cordelia, despite everything in their past, or the way she turns to Angel whenever something goes wrong, or the way she talks to Spike when she needs someone to make her laugh.
Buffy’s phone calls taper off, because she’s so busy with Dawn, and she and Riley have problems, and that’s about all Willow knows until Giles walks through the front door. He looks old, extra lines on his face, and he has sad eyes. It has been weeks, maybe months, since she talked to anyone in Sunnydale.
He says Buffy is dead, and Willow has to sit down. Her heart beats too fast and too loud, it is making her deaf. Spike sits down next to her, and Cordelia leans on the back of the chair. Wesley and Gunn are out on a job, so Angel faces Giles alone.
Giles doesn’t stay long, just gives the news and leaves. Angel’s face is blank and dark when he turns around, but he doesn’t say anything about it, just asks Willow if she’s going to be all right, and then says he’ll see them later.
XIV.
Angel is in bed when Willow goes to find him.
It’s not like when she hid after Oz left. The dark sheets are only pulled up to his stomach, and his chest is bare. She blushes, her cheeks hot, but she came here for a reason. Two reasons, actually, to check on him and because she really needs a hug.
He looks like he’s asleep, but it’s hard to tell since he doesn’t breathe. Willow plays with the hem of her t-shirt, tugs on it as she debates. She can try to wake him, or she can just go away and come back later.
Or she can crawl in and put her arms around him, which is what she really wants to do. She needs that hug, she can’t believe how bad a friend she was to Buffy. It was easier to stay away from Sunnydale, and Buffy had responsibilities there. Willow didn’t even go back when Joyce died, she sent flowers and a card, and Angel disappeared for a couple days. She knew he was there, and she couldn’t go and watch him be with Buffy.
But she should have been there to help. She should have tried to save Buffy.
Willow sits down on the edge of the bed. It isn’t anything creepy or obsessive, she won’t even get beneath the covers, she just needs to lean against him for awhile, touch him, and relax.
She scoots closer, slowly, just an inch at a time. Her arm brushes Angel’s, and she lays still, the touch not quite enough, but she is nervous and sad and exhausted, and can’t tell how far is too far.
Angel rolls, before she even knows he is awake, puts his arm around her, and pulls her against his chest. Willow’s breath catches and her heart beat jerks, but he doesn’t do anything else, he doesn’t say a word, and she is finally able to relax and sleep.
XV.
Willow wakes up between Angel and Spike.
It is disorienting, waking up in a darkened room; her windows face east and she likes the way the sun warms the floor. It takes her a minute to remember she is with Angel, in his bed, and that’s why the body on one side has no heart beat, no rise and fall of the chest with each breath.
It doesn’t explain why there is a body on the other side, too.
She blinks and turns her head; Spike’s eyes are closed, and he looks almost innocent, if she ignores the faint red smeared at the corner of his mouth and everything she knows about his past.
“Morning,” Angel murmurs, shifts his body, and pulls her closer.
It has to be a dream, Angel holding her and Spike in the bed, it just can’t be real. Willow closes her eyes and falls back asleep, or back into her sleep, and doesn’t question it, not when it’s so nice, to have them both right there.
XVI.
Angel kisses her for the first time in the hallway outside her room.
When she wakes again, she’s alone in his bed, and she sneaks back into her own. She doesn’t see either Spike or Angel for two nights, but on the third, Angel catches her after her shower. She wears a robe, a towel in a turban around her head, and he’s fully dressed, but he acts more uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” he says first, but doesn’t explain why he’s sorry. She shrugs and smiles a little, ducks her head.
“It’s fine, I’m sorry I just crawled into your bed, but I needed—it just hurt so much.”
“I know.”
There’s an awkward silence, and then, when she turns to her door and starts to say goodnight, he grabs her shoulders, pulls her around, and kisses her. It’s an awkward angle and her neck really hurts after a second, but his lips are firm, and his hands grip her shoulders, and heat zings through her body.
XVII.
Spike kisses her for the first time in Angel’s room.
When she goes to look for Angel, Spike is sitting on the edge of his bed. She doesn’t get a chance to ask why, she just stares for a minute, and then he’s standing in front of her. “Peaches is off saving the world,” he says, “or buying more gel for his hair. Couldn’t quite tell which, but either way, it was an emergency.”
“Oh.” Willow frowns. She normally knows whatever is going on, and Angel always tells her when he has to break a date. (Sometimes the emergency becomes the date, and she likes research and averting the apocalypse, so she doesn’t mind one bit.)
While she mulls over his strange, unannounced disappearance, Spike kisses her. He’s not a lot taller than she is, and it doesn’t make her neck ache like Angel’s kisses do when they go on too long, and it’s actually a very good kiss, but it’s wrong.
She pulls away, holds up both hands. “No, Spike, Angel….”
Spike grins, and it’s a dangerous and feral and way too hot.
“I told you about Angelus, Darla, and me.” Spike’s grin darkens. “Dru broke all that, but before, you never thought, from my stories, it wasn’t just Angelus and Darla?”
Willow’s eyes go wide. She really hasn’t thought about that, just has sweaty dreams about them, and maybe she did wake up between them in bed, but that doesn’t mean anything.
Spike watches her as she backs out of the room, but once she can’t see him anymore, she still can’t get the thought of Angel and Spike out of her mind, nor can she forget his kiss.
XVIII.
There’s a lot of alcohol involved the first time she asks Angel about it.
She’s not drunk, but she’s a little tipsy, and everyone is drinking too much and celebrating another successful world saving mission. Willow stays near Angel, and watches him drink only one glass of wine.
“Angel,” she sits in his lap, snakes her arms around his neck, “question.” She only slurs her words a little. “You, Spike, and Darla—I know you terrorized the world together and all, but were you…did you also….”
She blushes and trails off, but Angel doesn’t fill in the blanks for her.
“Were you all three having sex?”
Angel smiles, just a little, and kisses her forehead. The he turns to Spike, who mysteriously appears out of nowhere. “I told you to take it slow.”
Willow tilts her head and frowns.
“My way works better,” Spike says, leans in, and kisses her again. This time she cups her hand around the back of his neck and kisses him back.
XIX.
They have sex, all three of them, for the first time on vacation in England, Spike’s choice so he can watch the football games.
Angel still worries about losing his soul, so most of it takes place between Spike and Willow, but Angel is right there, touching them, his hands on Willow’s breasts, his mouth on Spike’s shoulder, his fingers everywhere.
Willow clutches Spike, drags her nails down his back, and watches as Angel takes himself in hand, strokes to the rhythm of Spike’s thrusts. It’s gorgeous and sexy and Willow stares while she bucks and shudders and comes hard, Spike’s fingers between their bodies, between her legs.
XX.
Spike gives her the first stuffed frog before they leave England.
He puts it in a shiny gift bag, and she opens it eagerly, expecting chocolates (she’s fallen in love with British candy), and gives a little scream when she sees it, even though she knows it’s not real.
Spike laughs and lights a cigarette, and even Angel smiles. It’s his turn to laugh when she hits Spike over the head with the bag, knocks the cigarette out of his mouth, but he just swoops her up in his arms and kisses her, growling something about revenge and a wasted fag.
When they get home, everyone else is careful not to say anything, but it’s obvious everyone knows what is really going on. Finally Cordelia snarks something at them, and the tension eases.
They all keep their own rooms, but also move into one of the suites. It’s just easier that way, and gives them time together as well as places to be alone when things get frustrating, and things do go wrong, they fight the good fight and fight each other too, but Angel and Spike don’t walk away from her, and Willow has never seen anything wrong with dating a beast.