When The Magic Fades

by Amy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When we were strangers,
I watched you from afar.
When we were lovers,
I loved you with all my heart.
"Harvest Moon" by Neil Young
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Xander, shut up!" Willow demanded irritably into the phone. "I was just
calling to tell you what I decided, not to get one of your many opinions on
the subjects of my life."

"Are you forgetting, Will?" he rebuffed calmly. "This doesn't only concern
you. There's me, and Giles and Cordelia and Oz. And Angel. Everyone who
knew her is a part of this. I just don't think it's a good idea."

"Well, I wasn't asking," she huffed. "And besides, it's what Angel wants.
I'm the only one here now, I'm the only one who sees. With you guys gone and
Giles living in Seattle and Oz constantly on tour, it's left up to me. This
is what I picked."

Xander sighed. "I know. And sometimes I feel bad that we're in New York.
You know that I miss you; miss helping you both. But Cordy's design business
is here, and this new job is working out really well for me. Besides that,
Cordelia wants to go into labor here, with her doctor. When he moved last
year, you know how much it freaked her out."

Willow exhaled. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I don't mean that you guys deserted me
or anything. It's just easier this way. We don't have to take a vote," she
joked, trying to lighten the moment. "I don't want any of you to feel bad
that we're here. Really, it makes the most sense. And Giles isn't so far
away that I can't call whenever I need something important."

"But, about the Buffy thing," Xander said hesitantly. "I'm still not
convinced that..."

"Xander," Willow said firmly, "It's taken care of. Everyone will be happy.
You, Giles, and especially Angel."

"But what about you?" he asked gently.

Willow gripped the phone tighter. "I want Buffy back, as much if not more
than anyone. So of course I'll be happy."

"That's not what I meant, and I have a feeling you know it."

Willow smiled at the concern in his voice. "I need to go," she said,
ignoring his veiled warning. "Have Cordy call me when she gets home, okay?
Oh, and if she goes into labor before next week, you have to promise to let
me know right away, all right? I'm not going to miss that."

"You got it, babe. Listen, you know I love you right?"

Willow laughed. "Yeah, I know. I love you too. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay, bye."

Willow hung up the phone before she got misty again. Though Xander and
Cordelia had been gone for over six months, it was still hard to call and
know that they were thousands of miles away. She and Xander had never really
been separated, permanently, before. But she figured that that's what being
an adult was about. Permanence.

At nearly twenty-six, she had graduated college and business school with
honors, but worked owning a small magic shop in the middle of Los Angeles,
and she helped Angel whenever she was free. He told her time and again that
she was the biggest help to him, and that he was so thankful to have her
there. Willow would drink in his words, and try not to wonder about what
could be.

She used to let herself wonder about things. When Angel's soul had been
anchored to his body three years ago, she had wondered a lot. He could be
happy now. He could let himself find peace.

But, as the days and months and years went by, she knew it wouldn't happen.
Buffy had died right before he was granted his soul for an eternity, thus
taking away all of Angel's opportunities at happiness. Willow still wanted
more for him. She would have never guessed when she was in high school that
her closest friend and the person she cared most about would be the dark,
remorseful vampire who Buffy had loved so much.

That's the way it was, though. Willow had learned to live with it.

She had also learned to live with walking into his office every night and
seeing him stare out the window sadly, as if wishing that he were somewhere
else, in another time. Or at least in different company. She had learned
to accept that he would never return her secret feelings, and grew quite
comfortable with him never knowing. He became her high-school Xander all
over again.

Except so much more.

Because she wanted him happy, no matter who he was with. She wanted to see
that rare, brilliant smile, and feel joy for him, knowing that he was feeling
joy for himself. She wanted for him everything that they would never have
together.

Which was why, when she came across the spell in a very rare casting book
that she bought to learn how to sense if someone was supernatural, to ease
Angel's workload, she thought it was a genus idea.

Of course, she wasn't going to tell him at first. It might not even work.
Some of the ingredients weren't even grown anymore, and she would have to
substitute. But she figured that the end result would be worth it. For
Angel, anything would be worth the outcome.

It would have to be.
* * * * * *

Willow let herself into his office quietly. Angel's feet were propped up on
his desk, and his hands were clasped together. If not for the telltale sign
of his blinking at regular intervals, she would have thought he was asleep.
Or dead.

She cleared her throat, walking over to him. "Are you all right, Angel?"

He glanced up at her absently. "Hm? Oh, yeah."

Her voice came out small and sad. "Okay."

This time Angel really looked at her. "Sorry, Willow," he murmured
apologetically, taking his feet off the desk to face her. "I was a little
distracted."

"That sometimes happens," she said knowingly. "To everyone."

As he stared at her, Willow gave herself one last chance to back away from
what she had been planning to do. One last chance to step out of the office
and give up the intentions that had been racing through her mind all day.
But then she looked in his eyes, those beautiful eyes that felt so much, and
she knew she wouldn't be pulling away from anything that he needed.

Not ever.

Faking a stumble, Willow lurched toward him. Angel caught her smoothly with
a smile, and Willow took the opportunity to pluck a strand of hair from his
scalp. He didn't seem to feel it, and Willow nodded, satisfied, as she got
up from his lap and clutched the hair in her fingers tightly.

"Well," she said, moving for the door, "I was just coming in to let you know
that I'm going to be at the shop all night if you need me. You know the
number."

Angel nodded and smiled as she grasped the doorknob. "Hey, Willow?"

"Yeah?"

"You look really nice today," he said unexpectedly, almost making her drop
the needed strand of hair in surprise. Her eyes widened as her face heated
quickly.

"...Thanks," she finally whispered, backing away.

There was no way she was turning back now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You see, her confidence is tragic,
But her intuition's magic..."
"Meet Virginia" by Train
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel looked at the door for a long, long time after Willow had gone. She
had smelled wonderful when she had tumbled into him, smelled and felt softer
than almost anything he could remember.

Except, of course, Buffy.

Willow was the only one who knew everything, now that she was gone. He had
stayed up long days, at her insistence that talking would make him feel
better. Sometimes, it did. Mostly, it didn't. But he trusted her, valued
her, felt good when she was near. It was the sort of friendship that they
had built up over the long years of being alone. She was practically alone,
too.

They were each other's family.

Angel wouldn't admit it, because he wouldn't know what words to say, but he
liked being part of a family. He liked being accepted for his heart and
mind, and he liked the fact that she knew almost everything about him, and
was his friend anyway. With so many people, a person's past mattered. What
they did for so long before you met them. But not with her.

Maybe it was because she knew him for a long time before they ever became
real friends. And she knew of his history, and the things he had done, and
had had time to get used to them. But Angel figured that the reasons for her
acceptance weren't important; the acceptance was.

But it bothered him, the way he was starting to see her. She reminded him of
someone, someone he couldn't place his finger on. But that wasn't the source
of his worry, because everyone had someone they reminded you of.

No, what worried him was the way he was noticing the way her hips moved as
she walked, as if to slowly fan a fire into waking up. It bothered him that
he noticed that her eyes changed color from pine leaves to willow when she
laughed. It bothered him that he cared so much about her smile that he found
a small way to compliment her every day, so that for one moment, she would
tilt her head and give him a look that made him genuinely smile back.

But he'd had his one true love. She was gone now, dead, and there was
nothing that could change that. Though they were only together once, that
one special night still clung to his mind, and he felt blessed for it. He
looked at her picture every day, thought of her every day, treasured that
fact that he had gotten to know such a beautiful person. Every day.

And there was no letting on to the fondness in his heart for Willow, the
fondness that was growing everytime he saw those eyes and that smile.
Because he loved Buffy, and always would love Buffy. She would always remain
in his mind as the young, sparkling, perfect woman she was. He wanted to
remain loyal to her memory by doing that.

And though Willow would accept a lot of things... Would put up with a lot of
things in her life, Angel was certain she wouldn't want to be the one in
second place.

He knew that she shouldn't have to be, either.
* * * * * *

It was a relatively simple spell. Willow got the herbs she needed,
substituted what she couldn't get, and lit the candles.

Quietly, she murmured, "I call on the first and only love of Angel, to bring
thee back to him. As you were, and ever shall be in life and not death."

The candles blew out, as Willow knew they would, and the heady potion of
sweet smelling herbs began to flame. Willow watched as a glow in the water
started, right under the fire licking the top of it, and smiled through her
tears at the fact that she was doing what she should have done a long time
ago. That she was doing something that needed to be done, no matter what
kind if pain it caused her in the long run.

"I'll be happy for you, Angel. I promise," she whispered.

The fire slowly died and Willow closed her eyes with sadness and relief.

Suddenly, a sharp pain tore through her stomach. She lurched forward,
clutching at her midsection, and let out a hoarse cry for help.

The pain dulled to a sore and painful throbbing, and Willow slowly crawled to
the phone, dialing his number as quickly as her fingers would allow.

"Hello?"

"Angel," she gasped.

"Willow," he demanded, alarmed, "What's wrong?"

"Did... I... spell. I'm hurt somehow. Can't go to doctor... don't know what
to say." Her mind was very sluggish, and she forgot her words as soon as
they were out of her mouth.

Angel leapt from his chair, slamming down the phone without saying a word.
He had to go to her.

And, if needed, he would break every single law on Earth to do it.
* * * * * *

Willow woke up slowly, looking around in confusion. After a moment of sleepy
bewilderment, she realized she was in Angel's room. In Angel's bed. And
Angel was sitting on the mattress next to her, holding her hand. She licked
her lips, trying to smile.

Angel's free hand wandered hesitantly over her face as she smiled. He wanted
to touch her, to assure himself that he was all right.

Because, when she was sleeping, he had finally allowed himself to feel
tenderness for another woman, had finally let himself let go a little.
Willow, lying there helpless and in pain, had evoked something deep and
protective and certain in him. He wanted to take care of her. Though he
wasn't sure what that meant yet, he figured the answer would come in time.
That was enough.

"Water?" Willow finally rasped.

Angel handed her a glass of water on the night stand. He lifted it up to her
lips and she drank greedily, letting some of the water spill down her chin
and trickle into the valley between her breasts. Willow was embarrassed to
discover that she was in her bra and panties and nothing more, and she turned
her head away from the water to clutch the cover up.

Angel glanced away. "I'm sorry. I didn't... see anything."

He only felt mildly bad for the lie.

Willow nodded and touched his arm. "How long have I been here?"

"Over a day," he said, straightening up. "I was wondering if I might have to
take you to a doctor after all."

Willow shook her head. "I feel fine now. Just a little... tired, and
thirsty. And you know that I can't go to doctors if something goes wrong
with a spell. They wouldn't be able to do anything for me, and might find a
reason to make me stay there anyway so they could ask me what happened."

Angel nodded darkly. "I know. But that doesn't mean I approve of it. I was
worried about you, Willow. What spell were you doing that did this to you?"

Her face heated. "I guess that means it didn't work," she whispered.

Angel shook his head. "I don't know whether or not it worked. But it
doesn't matter. What spell?"

"I can't tell you," she mumbled, glancing away from him.

His mouth tightened and he grasped her shoulders, lifting her into a sitting
position. "Willow," he gritted, "If you hurt yourself with another
protection spell for me, I'm going to... Do something. I won't let you hurt
yourself. It's not going to happen, do you understand? Even if I have to
keep you away from magic."

Willow gave a laugh, amused. "Angel, you couldn't keep me from magic even if
you tried. So don't bother threatening. I know too many spells by heart.
What are you going to do, lock me up here?"

"Maybe," he muttered, and Willow smiled because they both knew he wouldn't.

She lifted her hand slowly and touched his cheek. The gentle caress of her
fingers on his skin made him look at her. "I'm sorry I worried you. And I
can't tell you about what I was doing. But thank you for helping me when I
needed it."

"You can depend on me if you need it or not, Willow," he said softly; almost
too softly for her to hear. Their eyes locked for a long, long moment.
"Please don't try whatever you tried again."

Willow closed her eyes, sadness shooting through her heart. "I can't promise
that. I'm sorry."

His eyes were infinitely disappointed, and Willow felt somehow loved. Even
strong, though he had been doing the dominant-male thing with her. She
pondered that a moment. Because he felt like her brother or father or friend?

"I'm sorry too," he said huskily, his hands tightening on her shoulders. He
pulled her close for a moment, hugging her as hard as he could while being
certain she wouldn't break. He felt the softness of her, the warmth, and the
warmth that was seeping into his own skin simply by being close to her She
held him back, her hand stroking his neck gently, comfortingly, telling him
silently that she was fine.

Finally, he pulled away, and looked down at her, their faces inches apart.
Angel could feel the soft heat of her breath on his lips as their eyes
connected again, and he felt something move through his chest. A feeling he
hadn't felt in a long time.

Willow pulled herself out of his embrace just as she felt her eyes start to
drift shut in anticipation of the kiss. He wouldn't kiss her, wouldn't even
think of it. The tears were gathering quickly; too quickly, and Willow shot
her eyes around the room in an effort to keep her weeping at bay.

Angel was staring at her, confused. He must have misinterpreted...
everything.

He started to apologize, but was cut off by a soft voice from his doorway.

"Angel?"

Both Willow and Angel's eyes snapped up to look at the visitor.

Willow's heart began racing. Angel's mouth dropped open in shock.

Things were about to get a lot more complicated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee? --
With silence and tears."
"When We Two Parted" --by George Gordon Byron
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Willow?" Angel asked, his mouth dry, though he intuitively knew it wasn't
her.

But the woman standing before them bore a striking resemblance to the girl
lying weak in his bed. Darker hair, a silken auburn framed her face, and
went down to her waist in long, shining tresses. The fashion of her clothing
was old; very old, Angel would estimate that the plain, rough tan skirt was
from the mid-seventeen-hundreds. But she had Willow's eyes. The innocence
that flared deep inside them, a willingness to smile and laugh, an open heart
that showed through her gentle face... A face that was Willow's, and not
Willow's at the same time.

Angel felt suddenly haunted by ghosts.

So did Willow.

Likewise, the woman who looked like her, but was roughly seven years younger,
was staring at Willow, searching for something to say. At length, in a
heavily accented voice, she murmured, "My Angelus, I do not know what to say."

Something sparked in his mind, a long forgotten memory of friends and family
that no doubt should have been dead for many, many years. "Rose?"

"Aye, my Lord. 'Tis I." She stared at him, and Willow suddenly felt out of
place.

She tugged on Angel's hand, and he turned to look at her with wide, confused
eyes.

"Who is she?" Willow asked quietly.

Angel searched his mind. "My... cousin. Rose O'Flaherty."

Rose stepped forward, clutching at her skirts nervously. She touched him
tentatively on the arm, dipping her head down as she did so. He brushed her
gesture of submissiveness away and she smiled in delight; things were
obviously as they used to be.

Except... She didn't know who she was. Or why her beloved cousin had taken
on a lover who looked exactly like her.

Angel returned her smile tightly, and then looked at Willow again. "Tell me
what the spell was," he demanded harshly.

She flinched at his voice, lowering her eyes. "I was going to bring Buffy
back. For you. Forever."

Rose stood in silence, watching.

"I called upon your first love, and only love. I thought that's who Buffy
was. I thought Buffy was the one you wanted." She paused. "Why does she
look like me?"

Angel's eyes softened, and he squeezed her hand to relax her. "Face
structures are repeated from time to time. That's all. It's nothing to be
frightened about."

"I'm not," she denied quickly. "It's just a little strange. Is she evil?"

Angel hid a laugh. "I don't think so."

Hesitantly, Willow looked into his eyes. "Was she your first love?"

If vampires could blush, he would have, he realized in that second. "In
the... biblical sense, yes."

Willow did blush. "But you're cousins!" she protested loudly, and then
colored further at the volume of her voice.

Angel cast a look to Rose, who was staring at the floor, no doubt mortified
that he was revealing things about her that should never be spoken about.
"Times were different then, Willow. I know you know that. And we were
relatively young. I was to marry her when I deemed myself ready, though I
don't know that I ever would have. I was very impetuous, very foolhardy
then, and liked the idea of never being tied down to one woman. But I did
love her, in a way."

Willow nodded at the explanation, the pieces fitting into place. "Your first
love," she said dryly. "Angel, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," he said softly, locking eyes with her. "I'm sorry that you
thought I would want you to risk your life to bring Buffy back. Don't you
know that you're just as import--?"

"Angelus?" Rose interrupted shyly. Angel's mouth closed with an audible
click, and he stood from the bed to walk over to her. "What is happening?"

"When was the last time you saw me, Rose?" he asked.

"Why... Not a fortnight has passed since your last visit to my..." she cast a
look at Willow, who was trying not to seem like she was listening, and then
dropped her voice. "My bed. I have not seen you since."

Angel's eyes darkened as she said these words, and he remembered quickly how
shamefully he used to treat her. Using her body as a toy, promising that one
day he would have lived enough to marry and give her children, and never
intending to keep any of his promises. Oh, he had treated her badly.

He took her hands, and marveled at how they were the same size as Willow's,
how they tucked perfectly into the fit of his own, though hers were a little
rougher and more calloused from work on the farm than Willow's were. "Rose,"
he coached gently, "There's nothing that you need to keep hidden from Willow.
I'm sorry for this, but I must say that you can't leave this building until
it's... safe."

She nodded compliantly, willing to agree with him on any and all accounts,
and risked voicing a single question; a question that she knew immediately
that she shouldn't ask. "Are you in love with her?"

The question came from fear; fear that he would abandon all he had promised
her, fear at what he had said to Willow, fear at the look on his face when he
glanced at her competitor. But Angel simply smiled and didn't reply, letting
go of her hands.

He walked to the door and turned back as he was about to leave. "Willow, can
you stand? Are you well enough?"

Willow nodded quickly, deciding that it was safer to stay silent and wait for
his instructions.

"I'm going to your store," he explained. "What book was that spell from? I
may need to get it to find out how we can get Rose back to where she belongs."

Willow sighed, sensing the same, distant Angel who she was usually around.
"It's on the floor, next to the candles. There's a stack of them, but it's
the only one with an English title." Angel nodded and she called out after
him as he exited the room. "Be careful, though! Some of the pages are
falling out; the book is really old!"

The two women heard the door shut, and Willow glanced awkwardly at Rose, who
was trying not to meet her eyes. With another sigh, she patted the mattress.

Rose smiled gratefully and sat down next to her, sinking into the softness of
it.

After a moment, she looked up at Willow, startled.

"Spells? You're a...??"

Willow tried not to roll her eyes.

It was going to be a long night.
* * * * * *

"He should be back by now," Willow said worriedly, glancing at the clock.
"The shop isn't that far away, only about twenty miles. I just hope his car
isn't being temperamental."

"Car?" Rose asked blankly.

Willow grimaced at the slip. So far, the only things Rose had commented on
were the lights in the room, and because Angel's apartment was more sleek and
old fashioned than not, she was barely aware that something was different.
"Car. A different way of transportation," she explained.

Rose nodded her understanding, and smiled at Willow. "How long have you been
with Angelus?"

"I'm not *with* Angel," Willow said irritably, and then checked her tone,
feeling bad. "I mean," she amended gently, "That we're just friends."

Rose's tone was incredulous. "You're in a bare shift, and your modesty isn't
compromised. Is there something I'm not understanding?"

Willow looked down at the blanket, which was covering a pair of modest
panties and a matching bra. She colored. "Things are... different, Rose. I
can't explain it right now, but they are. Angel and I are only friends."

"But you're surely in love with him," Rose stated with a knowing twinkle in
her eye, for once not feeling threatened by the nearly naked woman next to
her.

"I'm not!" Willow protested loudly. She paused, adjusting uncomfortably.
"And if I were, it wouldn't do any good. He's in love with someone else."

Rose cleared her throat delicately. "Who is Buffy?"

Willow looked past her for a long time, as silence stretched between them.
"She's a very old and dear friend of mine, who died a long time ago.
Angel... Well... It's not easy to tell."

Rose stood angrily, clutching her hands together tightly. "I am not a
feeble-minded woman! Surely another woman would know that. I thought only
men were able to be that blind."

Willow's eyebrows rose. She smiled. "And I thought you were a quiet
person." She sighed. "Serves me right for judging someone on sight."

"Please, Miss... Please let me know what's happening to me. Things are
different here... I don't know where I am, or how I came to be here. Please
don't tell me tales, and please don't refuse to answer my questions," Rose
pleaded, sitting down again. "I simply wish to know what is happening."

Willow stared at her wistfully, strangely longing for the innocence that Rose
was begging for her to break. "You're in a different time, Rose," she said
quietly. "The year is 2006."

Rose put a hand to her heart, alarmed. She opened her mouth to speak, but
could find no words, and closed it again.

"I'm a witch," Willow explained. "Which is not a bad thing now. People can
be whatever they hope to be. I live in America. Angel lives here too."

Rose clung to that, a small hole in the story. "But... I should be gone now.
Angel and I, we should both have been in Heaven with Our Lord. People
cannot stay alive for hundreds of years!"

Willow touched her hand, frowning when Rose yanked away. "Vampires can."

"You're a vampire *and* a witch? Why should I believe these things?"

"I'm not a vampire," Willow corrected. "I'm not even twenty-six years old
now. Angel is. He became a vampire a long time ago."

"You... You... Heathen!" Rose stuttered furiously. "I don't believe you!"

Willow's shoulder's sagged. "I'm sorry for that. Would you like me to prove
it to you? Look around, Rose. Things aren't what they were, you'll notice."

Rose's eyes were wide and frightened. "You've simply married well."

"Come here," Willow said softly, standing and holding the sheet around her.
She padded quietly through the hall until they reached the bathroom. "Watch."

She pulled on the faucet, and water began gushing out. Willow watched Rose
with hooded eyes as she walked over to the toilet and flushed it. Then she
opened the shower curtain, turning the shower on and twisting the handle
until the water was warm and sprayed out a soft, almost fluffy cloud of
steam. She stood back as Rose hesitantly approached the shower and placed
her arm in it, letting the water spray against her before she jerked back in
alarm.

"This isn't possible."

"It is," Willow said softly. "Or it will be, where you come from. Someday.
Come."

She left the bathroom and Rose followed in shocked silence, followed to the
small room where Angel kept the black and white television. Willow quickly
flipped it on, and offered Rose a chair to sit in, in hopes that she wouldn't
faint.

Rose sat, and watched a few minutes of an episode of The Honeymooners play
out on the small screen.

"There are a lot of things like that," Willow told her. "Women and people of
different races-- Everyone is equal. This country is founded on liberty and
justice for all men. People can choose what religion they are, what they
want to believe. There are cures for thousands of illnesses. There are many
things that happen that are wrong... Horrible crimes are committed, but
technology increases every year, and some people are happy with the choices
they make."

Rose remained silent, looking at the floor.

Willow wondered if she had done the right thing in telling Rose something she
really wasn't ready to hear. For a long moment, she stared at her
look-a-like and then smiled, gesturing to the door. "C'mon. Follow me
again."

Rose nodded dully, and they left the room.

When they reached the kitchen, Willow opened the refrigerator and pulled out
several items, working in silence for a few minutes. When she was finished,
she placed the plate in front of Rose with a flourish.

"You've probably eaten sandwiches... Or something like them, in some way,"
she explained when Rose looked to her for guidance, "But there's nothing
quite like bread made in a big ole' factory, and processed cheese." She
grinned, and then softened when she realized that Rose was still confused.
"You'll like it. A ham sandwich."

Rose nodded, bowing her head for a moment, and then lifted the sandwich how
Willow directed her to. She took a tentative bite.

A smile broke over her face.

"What is the... yellow?"

"Mustard. It's something to help the taste of things like sandwiches. I
just bought the things to make it yesterday, and Angel rarely eats food
without company, so I knew there would be plenty to make you something to
eat."

Rose lifted her head in understanding, her mouth full.

Willow watched in amusement as Rose continued eating it, not stopping to
drink from the Pepsi Willow placed next to her; barely stopping long enough
to breathe. When she finally put it down, she looked at Willow and flushed a
deep red.

"You must think me completely without manners. I apologize."

Willow grinned. "Don't worry about it. I'm glad you liked it that much.
Thirsty?"

Rose nodded.

Willow gestured to the can of soda on the table, and Rose lifted it, a
delighted smile taking over her face as she felt how cold the can was. She
took a sip.

"I love this time!" she exclaimed after a moment.

Willow nodded, pleased she was actually able to make Rose comfortable and
happy. Rose leaned forward, across the table, and looked at Willow earnestly.

"Miss Willow... How can I stay?"

Just then, the door slammed.

Angel was home.

Willow knew she was going to be in a lot of trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Till Resurrection, I must guess
Denied the small desire
A Rose upon a Ridge to sow
Or take away the Briar."
--Emily Dickinson
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow stood quickly, her brow furrowing. Angel wasn't going to like this at
all. He was going to have a fit, and Willow really couldn't blame him if he
did. She got carried away proving herself.

"Listen," she muttered under her breath, "You can't stay. I'm sorry. But
it's not possible."

Rose's eyes flashed. "Why is that? Because it's not my time to be here?
I've always felt that I was out of place where I lived. Perhaps it was
merely *when* I lived that wasn't right. I would like to stay."

Willow opened her mouth to argue, but Angel interrupted, walking into the
room.

"I found it." He held up the book in question. "The spell to send her back
is really simple. We shouldn't have any trouble accomplishing it." He set
the book down in front of Rose, pointing to a small verse on one of the
pages. "Read that, and you'll be back in no time."

Rose set her jaw stubbornly. "I shant."

Angel looked at her in surprise, and then nodded. "I've forgotten. It's
okay that you don't know how to read. All right, repeat after me, 'Be in the
time I belong, with those I belong to. Let wrongs be undone and rights
flourish in my path.' "

"No," she gritted, staring at him. "I won't go back."

He stared at her, aghast. "What?" His eyes snapped around the room; all of
the lights were on, and he could hear the faint sound of the television in
the background. He looked at Willow. "What happened?" he asked, very slowly.

Willow cringed, trying to hide her eyes from his gaze. "I... explained this
time to her."

Angel nodded quietly, then turned back to Rose. "I see. Rose, you know that
this isn't the time where you belong."

"Actually, she thinks it is," Willow murmured, avoiding Angel's glare.

"I do," Rose agreed. "I want to stay here and experience things I never
thought would be possible. Willow tells me that I'm your equal."

"You are," Angel concurred. "You always have been, but it was simply never
thought true by the law."

"Or by the men. And women," Rose lashed out. Then she softened. "If I'm
your equal, I ask you to marry me, Angel." She touched his hand, and he
watched in silent worry as her fingers trailed along his skin. "Think of how
lovely it would be, cousin. To live forever together. I would be the wife
you've always dreamed of."

Angel closed his eyes, and Willow felt like crying in remorse. Even if this
wasn't what she had planned, maybe it would be what was best for him. Or
maybe he was just regretting Willow ever coming into his life, regretting
ever knowing her. Willow didn't know which thought hurt her more.

At last Angel opened his eyes. They locked on the warm gaze of Rose, and he
was saddened by the hope he found there. "I can't, Rose. I have a destiny
to fulfill. As do you. And mine isn't to help you stay in this time."

"But you love me!" she protested. "You've said this on many occasions."

Angel lowered his head. "Aye, dear one, I love you," he murmured, slipping
into a stilted and long-unused version of Gaelic, his words gaining speed
with each second. How he used to love that language! "But not in the way
you hope, or the way I promised to love you all those years ago. I love you
because you are a person I grew up with, the child I played with in the
sunlight... When I could still be in the sun. Those are the things you
represent to me, and the things you always will. I love you because you're
my family, but for no more reasons than those."

Crystalline tears quickly filled her eyes and leaked out the corners. She
looked away, putting her hand to her heart. "May I... Do you have a..." she
asked quietly, not knowing what she was really asking for.

Willow helped her stand. "You can go into the bedroom, if you like. Maybe
it would help if you got some rest before we perform the spell."

Rose nodded, shuffling away like an old woman; her shoulders hunched and her
footsteps heavy.

Willow sat down next to Angel and watched her disappear into the room. After
the door clicked shut quietly, Willow turned to Angel and waited for him to
say something.

"I don't blame you," Angel muttered heavily, finally looking at her. "Not at
all. I would have felt the same temptation to show her the wonders of this
year."

Willow closed her eyes, relief that she couldn't describe washing over her.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I thought you might... hate me."

"I could never hate you!" he denied loudly. Pausing, he lowered his voice.
"I would never hate you, Willow. You're... part of my family too, in ways
that Rose can't be. In ways that I would never ask anyone to be, you're
there for me when I need you and I... thank you for that." He reached across
the table and gripped her small hand in his, squeezing it tightly. "Please
don't ever doubt my feelings for you."

Willow stared at their linked hands, a hush falling over both of them.
"Sometimes I'm not sure what they are," she murmured, not looking up.

Angel swallowed, sure that if he had been alive, his heart would be thumping
wildly. As it was, he was as nervous as he could ever remember being, and
felt warm and alive and wonderful at the same time. "Willow... I..."

She looked up, hope filling her expression. "What?"

The sound of something clattering, as if it was falling over, drew their
attention away from each other, and Willow and Angel stood, still clasping
hands. They looked in the direction of his bedroom. "What was that?" Willow
asked quietly.

"I don't know, but it doesn't give me a good feeling," he muttered.

Slowly, they approached the room, and Willow knocked tentatively with her
free hand. "Rose? Are you all right? Rose!"

No answer. Angel shook the knob. "She locked the door!" he burst out,
flummoxed. With a sharp jab of his foot, the door broke open and he and
Willow stepped inside.

"Don't you have a key?" Willow mumbled as he yanked her along.

"Yeah, well, I like breaking things," he mumbled back, his eyes darting
around.

Their eyes finally landed on the stack of furniture that had been quickly
piled on top of each other, chairs and pillows and books of varying sizes,
one on the other, high enough to reach the small window at the top, the
window that reached street level of the outside world. A chair had fallen
down from it, which was what had caused the noise, Angel assessed. But the
window was open, and Rose was nowhere in sight.

"This just can't be possible," he muttered to himself.

Willow raised her eyebrows. "Yeah? Funny, how the impossible seems to
happen a lot where you're concerned."
* * * * * *

Rose wandered through the streets in a haze. Bright lights illuminated the
damp, smelly streets that were made of stone and not made of stone at the
same time. Women wore less than Willow had when she had been wrapped in her
bedclothes. Strange beings, some mode of transportation, Rose figured, wound
their ways up and down the streets. She paused before a warmly lit shop,
glancing at the glittering jewelry in the window. Her eyes wandered down to
her necklace, which was the only fine decoration she had, made of pure gold.

The man in the shop came out and threw her a sickening smile. She made an
effort to smile back, but to no avail. His eyes fell to the shining locket
around her neck, and he gestured to it.

"I was about to lock up, but I can stay open for a few minutes longer and
make you a sweet deal on that necklace. Maybe..." he squinted, stepping
closer. Rose worked at not stepping away, reminding herself that she was in
an entirely different culture. "Maybe... three hundred bucks. You have a
pretty face."

Rose's eyes went wide. "Three... hundred...?" she rasped.

The man laughed. "Maybe three-fifty, once I take a closer look. Wanna come
inside?"

Rose eagerly lifted her skirts to follow him in the door.
* * * * * *

"We have to find her," Angel said urgently.

Willow sighed. "I know. Geez, of all the things I regret, you don't think
that one of the biggest is just informing that poor girl about the wonders of
our world, when she couldn't possibly understand the horrors as well?"

Angel shook his head. "I'm not blaming you. I thought I already made that
clear. It's not your fault."

Willow sat down heavily on the mattress. "Well, it sure as hell feels like
it."
* * * * * *

Rose smiled at the man named Jeff, she learned, and left the small shop with
the money clutched tightly in her hand. She headed in the direction he had
pointed her in, a place that had lodgings for a small price, and kept a
fairly clean establishment.

In no time, she'd found it, and was checking in to stay for a week, paying
the obviously over-priced sum of thirty dollars.

As she stood in her small room a few minutes later and undressed, she looked
around in wonder. It was filthy, but she could change that. And it wasn't
the brightest of rooms, but she could fix that as well. It would just take a
little time, and she had all the time in the world, to do whatever she
pleased with.

After all, women were capable of anything in that century, weren't they?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I had second thoughts at the start,
I said to myself, 'hold on to your heart.'
Now I know the woman that you are,
It's wonderful so far.
And you're more than I hoped for..."
"For The Longest Time"-- Billy Joel
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Come on," Angel said, pulling Willow's hand. He began jerking her along,
only to pause for the second that it would take for her to slam into him.
After walking this way for two minutes, Willow realized that she could very
well get a concussion by letting it go on, and slipped her hand deftly out of
his.

"Why don't you *tell* me where we're going, so I can follow you?" she
suggested lightly.

Angel hesitated again, his face lifting as they got outside, as if he was
smelling the air. Willow smiled. He probably was.

Instead of answering her question, however, he took hold of her hand again
and proceeded to tug her along. Again she ground into him whenever they
stopped, and both of them got bruises from the spontaneous bumps. Willow
groaned, clutching her elbow when it rammed into the side of his unusually
hard stomach, and Angel flinched looking down at her.

"Sorry," she murmured.

"No, I didn't even feel it. Are you all right?"

Their eyes caught; held. "Yes," she said slowly, wanting to savor the moment.

He nodded curtly, breaking the contact of their gaze, as if it was painful.
"Good. I don't mean to bother you," he explained while continuing to pull
her at a rapid pace, "But I smell her on the air, and I'm hoping that I can
reach her before the scent of the rain-- it's coming, in about one hour--
covers it. I just keep thinking..."

"That she could be hurt somewhere. I know," Willow finished gently for him,
rubbing the back of his hand as he stopped again the glance at her.

"And that it would be my fault, again. I'll probably end up hurting *you*,"
he ground out in a hurting voice, not meeting her eyes. He started moving
again, but Willow used all her strength and steadied her feet against the
cement, yanking his arm back. Angel spun around, falling into her; chest
against face.

As he pulled back, Willow reached out and touched his hair softly, then his
cheek when he looked at her. He stared in silence. She gave him a gentle
smile and led him over to a bench. Sternly gesturing for him to sit down in
stark contrast with her calm and even look, she waited until he obeyed.

Which he did. Without question.

She sat down next to him, their hands still linked and laced together.

"Now," she murmured, lifting his chin so that he would meet her eyes, "Tell
me what you meant by that."

"Willow, we really should get going..." he said uneasily, glancing away.

"Look at me," she said firmly, and waited until his gaze flashed back to
hers. "I want to know what you meant by that, Angel. Because I, for one,
think that you could never hurt me. Not even if you were angry."

"I hurt Rose," he countered. "I was the one who... I killed her, a long time
ago. I was... I didn't have a soul, and I was a demon and... I end up
hurting everyone I love."

"You do not!" she exclaimed, exasperated. "You didn't hurt Buffy!"

"Are you telling me," he murmured evenly, "That when I told her I was moving,
I didn't break her heart? That when I refused to see her when she came to LA
to see her father, that I wasn't hurting her more than she could bear? Is
that what you're saying? Because please, let me know if that's not true!"
His voice rose with his last few words, until he was uncharacteristically
yelling. Willow leaned back, apparently afraid, and Angel felt immediately
ashamed of himself.

He looked away from her.

Willow leaned forward. "I'm not afraid of you Angel. I've just never seen
you talk with such... I've never seen you like that. And as for Buffy, you
did break her heart. But she was a young girl when that happened, and young
girls get their hearts broken. I'm not saying that it had nothing to do with
you, but it was bound to happen, whether or not you had ever been as close as
you were. And she died loving you, Angel. She died thinking of that, of how
much she loved you. She forgave you for leaving. She thought it was right."

"How do you know?" he asked quietly, hopefully.

"I was there," Willow said. "And I was told to never let you know, I
promised, because she was afraid that you would grieve for her forever. And
forever in your life is bound to be too long. I'm breaking that promise
because I'm trying to keep another one right now. I wouldn't do it
otherwise."

"What's the other promise?"

Willow smiled sadly and looked down. "It's one of my own. One I made to
myself," she whispered, and saw a brief understanding take over his
expression. Perhaps he did know that she had promised to always look out for
his happiness, his needs. What he needed right then was to know that Buffy
forgave any hurt that he caused.

And Willow hoped she had given that to him.

His eyes swam as he looked at the sad redhead sitting next to him, not
wanting to meet his eyes. He felt a sudden tenderness that he didn't expect,
something that he had been trying to push down and hide in his heart for far
too long. She was extraordinary. She cared about him, perhaps more than he
had allowed himself to admit in the past. And he was sure, was certain of
some things he might never have found out if not for the disaster of Rose's
arrival.

The thought pulled him to his feet in surprise. The sun was rising fast, the
rain was soon to come, and he had completely forgotten Rose in all of his
worries and thoughts. Willow stood with him, and he clutched her hand with a
smile.

"We're gaining light," he muttered. "We need to go."

"Angel?" Willow asked uncertainly, not wanting to actually ask whether or not
he was okay.

He glanced down at her with a small, intimate smile. "I'm good."

She smiled back.

"And, Willow?" he added. She looked up, her smile widening when she saw his
eyes darken with appreciation. He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers
quickly, his cool mouth giving her warm shivers. "Thank you."
* * * * * *

Rose woke slowly, the sun washing her face and the room in its light. With a
stretch and a yawn, she rose from the bed, realizing where she was. She
smiled delightedly, the sensations of being in the future, being in a place
she wasn't supposed to be-- the forbidden, hotly tempting sensations--
finding a place in her stomach and keeping her warm.

Walking to the bathroom, she cleaned up with the warm water that sprayed from
the fountain, and looked around the dingy room with new eyes. It was as if
she'd had blinders on before. As if nothing could have awakened her except
this; this time, this place, this overwhelming affection for everything that
she didn't know.

She got dressed and went downstairs, to ask the kindly older gentleman who
had helped her if there was a restaurant nearby that would be able to help
her. There was a different man working, though, and Rose didn't like the way
he was looking at her, so she simply asked if there was anyway she could make
the food inside.

He gave her a toothy grin. "Yeah. Order in. Pizza will come any place.
Even here. Just give 'em the address when you call. And the room number."

"Call? Pizza?"

"Yeah, kid. Where are you from? Use the phone." He quickly became
patronizing, handing her a card with the number of a pizza place on it. "You
push the little numbers to call the place you want to get? And then they
come to your door and charge you money?"

Rose blushed, feeling strangely uncomfortable, a feeling she had managed to
avoid since she had left Angelus's home. "Thank you, sir."

His eyes, which were an astonishing, pretty blue, contrasting his entire
demeanor, dipped up and down her. "Anytime, Sweetie. You just come down
here and ask Uncle Bobby if you need any help."

"I will. It's appreciated."

With that, she scampered away from him. It was almost like he had been able
to see through her clothes.
* * * * * *

An hour later, the pizza half eaten-- it had fairly been attacked once she
had smelled the aroma of the delicious thing-- she laid down on her bed and
looked at the phone again. She had seen a number on a card in Angelus's
home. Searching her mind, she realized she could remember it, and wondered
if it would be wise to call him.

The phone was an amazing invention.

After a moment, she decided against letting Angelus know where she was.

She was doing fine without him for the time being.

But, though she didn't call, she allowed herself to wonder where he was. And
if he was missing her.
* * * * * *

"She's hurt, I know she's hurt somewhere," Angel muttered as they walked
through the sewers to his apartment.

"Don't say that!" Willow said angrily. "Angel, she's fine. I know it.
Don't ask me how, but I promise that things are going okay with her, all
right?"

Angel slowed down so that she could catch up with him, and then pulled
another beautiful, often hidden smile out of his cauldron of emotions to give
her. Willow nodded in satisfaction, and he looked away with amusement. "I
don't know what I'd do without you, Will."

The blatant, tender compliment, and especially the nickname, made her widen
her eyes in shock. In the years they had known each other, the years they
had been working alone together, even, not once had he called her that.
"What?"

"I appreciate you being here, Willow," he said, a secret light coming into
his eyes, as if he was laughing at a private, gentle joke.

"Oh," she murmured, following behind him quietly. Her eyes watched his back,
speculative, wondering, curious. "I... appreciate you too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep.
And miles to go before I sleep."
--Robert Frost
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they used the elevator to get to Angel's underground apartment, he looked
at Willow sympathetically. "You must be exhausted. I've kept you out all
night looking for her."

Willow shrugged. "The call of duty. And, anyway, I woke up last *night*,
remember? It's not as though I didn't get plenty of sleep before that."

Angel raised his eyebrows, not needing to point out that she had been knocked
into unconsciousness by performing too powerful a spell to keep control over.
Willow noticed his sly gaze and sighed.

"Okay, I'm a little tired," she confessed. "A lot tired."

He nodded, almost smugly. "Thought as much."

Willow smirked. "Well, thank you for letting me know," she said dryly.

Angel laughed for a moment and then quieted, his eyes watching her carefully.
"I'm a bit tired, too," he admitted. "Why don't you take the bed and I'll
stretch out on the couch?"

"Angel, we've had this discussion before," Willow reprimanded. "When I stay
over at your place, I take the couch. When you get stuck at my apartment,
the couch is yours. I'm not taking your bed from you. The only reason I did
it last time was because... well, I couldn't say no."

"That's the way I like it," he smiled. "You feminists."

Willow rolled her eyes at him and he grinned broadly. She wondered,
suddenly, what had caused the change in him that she had been noticing over
the past few hours. He seemed different; lighter and less tense. She
decided she liked it.

"Please, Willow," he pressed, his voice dropping seriously. "I'd appreciate
it if you took the bed tonight. You are still a little... under the weather."

She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. He smiled, reaching out to
touch one smooth cheek with his finger. Willow's breath came a little faster.

"Why don't we both sleep there?"

She closed her eyes against the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.
She couldn't believe she had said that, couldn't believe that she had allowed
those words to pop out of her. She needed an edit button. Opening her mouth
to apologize, she was silenced by the interest on his face.

"All right," he said finally. "Why not?"

He turned and led her to the room. Willow's eyes widened as she realized the
situation-- incredibly dangerous situation-- she had just put herself in.
Once they were there, Angel turned around to let her get into the change of
nightclothes she left over there in case she ever needed to spend the night.

"I'm done," Willow said at last, her voice barely above a whisper.

Angel turned around as she crawled under the covers, sighing at the delicious
feeling of being warm. He grinned at the little-girl smile that took over
her face as he slipped off his shirt.

Willow's smile vanished, and she stared at him.

Seeing him shirtless while training, or even while changing his shirt to meet
a client was an entirely different experience than seeing him take of his
shirt as he got ready to get into bed with her, Willow realized in an
instant. It was innocent-- she had seen him in that state of undress dozens
and dozens of times before-- but somehow it felt sensual, and secret. He'd
had the same beautiful twenty-something body for over two-hundred and fifty
years, and Willow slunk under the heavy blankets, ashamed that she was glad
for the fact that he never aged.

"I'm acting like a fifteen year old," she murmured in disgust.

Angel kicked off his shoes and looked up. "What?"

Willow blushed. "Nothing. Sorry."

He smiled as if he knew more than she was saying, and nodded, taking off his
belt and throwing it across one of the chairs. Getting into the bed with his
pants on-- it wouldn't do any good to shock her by sleeping like usually did,
which was in nothing-- he casually pulled the blankets up around him and
pulled the light switch.

They were bathed in darkness.

"Sleep good, Willow," Angel murmured.

The words 'fat chance' passed through her mind, but she dismissed them. She
finally decided on, "You too."
* * * * * *

Angel's eyes fluttered open, the ringing phone drawing him out of sleep. He
glanced down and Willow, who was murmuring quietly, and realized that he was
covered in her hair and skin. Her silky autumn locks lay fanned across his
face, and her arms and one of her legs were thrown over him. He sighed
comfortably, closing his eyes.

The phone kept ringing.

With a less content sigh this time, Angel resisted temptation and disengaged
himself from her warm grip, rolling over to pluck up the phone before it woke
Willow.

"Hello?" he murmured.

"Angelus," Rose said, sounding delighted and self-satisfied. "I used the
telephone."

Angel sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Rose," he said roughly,
"Where are you? I'll come get you right now."

Rose was disappointed that he chose not to confess his love instantly, which
had been the reason she called. She sighed. "No, Angel. Do not. I shall
call you, my love, at a later time."

With that she hung up. Angel glared at the dead phone for a moment, and then
glanced at his caller identification. 2899 Roosevelt circle. He rolled his
eyes, trying not to growl. She had called from a pay phone. How in the
world did Rose learn how to use a pay phone?!

As soon as night fell, he would find out, Angel decided as he laid back down.
He slipped his arms around Willow as smiled as she buried her face against
his chest. Angel pulled back slightly and looked at h

r for a moment before
pressing a light kiss onto her sleep-warmed lips.

"I love you," Willow whispered.

Angel's heart tightened warmly. He rested his chin on top of her head. "I
love you too."
* * * * * *

Willow shuddered. She was in a cold sweat, trembling. Her eyes snapped open
and she glanced fearfully at a sleeping Angel, her fingers clutching weakly
at his arms.

"Angel," she finally whimpered.

His eyes opened, and he looked down at her in alarm. "Willow, what is it?
What's wrong?!"

Tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes. She held her stomach
painfully. "It's worse than before," she choked. "Something's happening to
me."

And for the first time since Buffy had died-- the second time in over two
hundred years-- Angel felt totally and completely like throwing up.

"What hurts?" he asked anxiously. "What can I do?"

"Everything," she answered, panting. "Everything hurts. I feel... like
my... chest is being... pulled apart. Go get my spell book."

Angel dropped a rough, cool kiss onto the top of her head and then did what
she asked. Without question.

When he brought back the book, he took her hand and tried to get her to meet
his eyes. Her gaze was distant and cloudy, almost confused. "Come on,
Willow. Come on. Stay away for me."

With his free hand, Angel desperately flipped through the book to the spell
in question. When he reached it, he looked up at Willow for guidance. One
of the things he regretted most in that moment was that he wasn't able to
counteract the spell himself. Though he had periodically studied the black
arts, he wasn't a strong spell caster. And even if he had been, the spell in
front of him said that no one could negate the spell but the one who had cast
it in the first place. He sighed angrily, still murmuring comfort to Willow.

He flipped through the book. "Where's the spell to neutralize the effects?"

"Other book," Willow whispered through dry lips. "On the table. Get it for
me."

Angel rushed to the table and brought it back to her. She muttered, "It's in
there... All spells to reverse the effects of the other book are."

Angel flipped through it maniacally. "How do I know which one it is?"

Willow nodded weakly, understanding, and then lifted a shaky arm. She feebly
pushed his hands away from the book and he rested it on the bed, where she
could have easier access. Angel watched her wave her hands over it and
murmur something in Latin.

The book blew open and the pages began flipping rapidly, as though a strong
wind had been blowing through the room. Finally, they stopped, and Angel
took the book back, scanning it for signs of what to do.

His eyes widened, and a low growl began in his throat. "That spell is called
the Soul Stealer?"

"What?" Willow asked faintly, as surprised as he was.

"The Soul Stealer," he repeated, reading from the text. "An ancient ritual
to bring back the loved ones from the grave. The simple spell draws on the
strength of the spell caster's soul, using it to further to future of the
lost one. As time continues, the spell caster's soul is taken from their
body to be placed in the body of the one they rose."

He looked up at her, horrified.

Willow reached for his hand again, squeezing it with what little strength she
had. "What does this mean? ...Will I be like a vampire, a vampire with no
soul?"

"No," he said slowly. "Someone who's undead-- like a vampire-- has no
problem living without a soul. We're unnatural to begin with. But a human
can't exist, can't survive without one. It's impossible."

Her eyes filled with frightened tears. "Angel... How do we stop it?"

He shook his head, reading. "We have to find Rose. Because she's the only
one who can help us."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Tonight it's very clear as we're both lyin' here,
There's so many things I wanna say.
I will always love you, I would never leave you alone..."
--Peter Cetera; "The Glory Of Love"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Kate," Angel said hurriedly, annoyed that he had to waste time on
pleasantries, but not wanting to seem rude, "Hi. How are Mike and the kids?"

"Gee, Angel," she teased, "This sounds like such a social call." When he
didn't respond, she sobered instantly. "What do you need? You know I'll
help if I can."

"I need to find someone. It's urgent. I need to find her as quickly as
possible," he said.

"Sure," Kate said willingly. "What's her name? Do you know where she lives
and what she looks like? How urgent?"

"Willow could die," Angel growled.

Kate gave a long, drawn out whistle. "That sounds pretty damn urgent, you're
right. So?"

"She... Her name is Rose. She looks exactly like Willow, with much longer
hair. And her hair is a little darker, too. Also, she's probably still
wearing clothes from the eighteenth century," he explained, glad to have
answers for something. "She called me here. The caller identification
showed that she was calling from a pay phone on Roosevelt. She doesn't have
any-- at least not much-- money to spend."

Kate paused, and Angel could pick up the sounds of her scribbling down the
information on paper. "Got it. Clone?"

"No, my cousin."

"Didn't your family all die a couple of hundred...?" She trailed off,
sighing. "Never mind. Explain it to me later. I'm on it. You're at home,
right?"

"Right."

"Okay, I'll contact you as soon as I know something." Kate paused. "And I
hope Willow pulls through this... whatever."

"Thanks," he murmured. "I'll tell her."

They disconnected, and Angel rushed back into his room, carrying a bowl
filled with ice chips. Willow trembled hotly, her face flushed a deep red,
and opened her mouth. Angel gently placed one of the chips on her tongue and
her eyes fluttered open long enough for her to silently thank him.

He took her hand. "Not much longer, Willow. We need to repossess your soul
from Rose, and then you'll be able to do the spell that prevents that kind of
danger again," he whispered in her ear. "It's going to be fine. I promise."

Her eyes were cloudy. "That's the first promise that you've made," she
murmured, "That I wasn't absolutely sure you could keep." Her hand reached
up and touched his face tenderly before falling back onto the pillow. She
closed her eyes. "So tired, Angel...."

He squeezed her hand in alarm. "No, Willow. Please don't sleep. Please..."

"Angel?"

"Yes?" he asked thickly.

"I love you."
* * * * * * *

Rose heard a strange blaring sound. Lifting herself off of her bed, where
she had been lazily watching the television, she walked over to the window
and pulled aside the curtain to look out. Blue and red lights flashed in a
dizzying fashion as the sirens wailed closer. A pretty woman hopped out of
the vehicle, rushing up to the phone booth where Rose had placed her call
from when she had been out looking about the town.

After a moment, the woman brushed back her hair, looking annoyed, and pulled
out a something from her pocket. She showed it to one person, then to
another, and then to a group of people standing nearby. Finally a man
pointed to the building Rose was staying in and nodded.

The woman turned, heading for the building.

Rose bit her lip, curious, and then shrugged, deciding to go back to watching
the television.

Even though the life outside seemed just as interesting.
* * * * * *

"Willow," Angel whispered brokenly as she closed her eyes. He clutched her
hand tighter, willing her to open her eyes again and gaze at him like she had
so many times in the past, wishing that he hadn't missed all of the signals
she gave him, and hating himself for wasting so much time. "Willow. I can't
lose you."

She murmured something in her sleep. He stared at her, saw her slipping away
from him, away from the world that was their home for so long.

"Willow," he insisted, raising his voice. "Open your eyes. Look at me,
Will. I can't lose you too. You're so important to me... You're everything
now. After... After Buffy died, I didn't think I could ever love again; that
I would ever even feel anything again. I was numb. She was the first woman
I had really given all of my heart to, and then I lost it when she was gone.
I'm sorry."

He paused, licking his lips, hoping that his confession would bring her back.
"But now... Now I can't imagine life without you. I'm sorry I didn't
realize it sooner; so sorry that I let so much time pass when I could have
been holding you and kissing you and being close to you. I didn't think it
was right to allow myself that. Or, maybe I knew that my heart could get
broken if I admitted how much..." he swallowed. "How much I love you.
Because I do."

Her eyes fluttered, and Angel gazed at her hopefully for a moment before
continuing. "But now I realize it doesn't matter if I get hurt. It'll hurt
more later if I never tell you this, if what we both know is right never
happens between us like it should. I should have told you sooner. I should
have..."

His voice broke, and tears filled his eyes. Too, too long for him to have
not seen what she was trying to tell him. He had been around her every day
for years, and he hadn't wanted to know. She had pretended it didn't matter,
that she didn't care that he wasn't in love with her, because she wanted him
to be happy, but that wasn't true.

Angel knew, deep down, without needing to think, that the only way either of
them could really be happy is if they were with each other.

Her hand twitched, and her eyes fluttered again. He lifted her hand to kiss
it soundly on the back, and then he turned it over to kiss her palm. She let
out a soft, painful moan.

And then she was silent.

Her breath was shallow, but there, he noticed in that instant of panic that
overtook him. She was alive... But barely. Her hand was slack in his, and
her face was expressionless; completely devoid of movement or feeling. Angel
suddenly choked with fear, not knowing what he could do.

"How can I help you?" he pleaded quietly.

"You can't."

Angel spun around, his eyes locking on the woman who spoke, whose face was
streaked with tears.

Rose stepped through the doorway, and then Kate behind her, and she settled
her hand on Angel's shoulder. Angel looked up at her in surprise, the
glitter of faith and hope burning in his eyes. Rose continued, laying her
eyes on Willow with a determination she didn't know she had.

Her voice was strong. "But perhaps I can."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"And what do you say in a moment like this?
When you can't find the words, to tell it like it is...
Just close your eyes and let your heart lead the way.
Let's get out of here... What do you say?"
--Reba McEntire; "What Do you Say"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Rose?" Angel asked huskily, the relief apparent in his voice. He stood up,
embracing her quickly and tightly before letting go and turning back to
Willow and sitting down again. Rose studied his face for a long moment, and
then sat down beside him.

"Thank you for coming," he said in a low voice.

"I would go anywhere for you," Rose whispered, surveying Willow's sallow and
weak condition. "All you need do is ask."

He looked up at her sadly; their eyes connected for a brief and poignant
moment. "Would you go home?"

"Is that what I have to do?" she asked shakily.

Angel nodded somberly. "That's what you would have to do."

Her face whitened and she pressed her hand to her mouth in a moment of
complete feminine shock and dismay. Her eyes were sad. "I do not wish to
leave."

Angel took her hand. "I know... I'm sorry we brought you here. I'm sorry...
for a lot of things. I can't tell you to leave, to do what I'm asking. But
I can ask that you think about where you really belong, and where Willow
does. If you stay alive, she doesn't. And we don't have much time."

She looked into his eyes, seeming to get strength from him, remembering the
memories of the two of them as children which had been buried in her mind for
far too long. Her hand drifted up and she cupped his cheek longingly, and
her eyes brightened with resolve. She straightened her shoulders. "You are
right," she murmured. "This is Willow's life... I cannot steal it. As much
as I wish..." She trailed off, looking down at a slumbering Willow.

"But your heart is hers," Rose finally whispered. "So I will go."

Angel let out a sudden quiet sob, one that he didn't realize he had been
holding in. Tears flooded his gaze, and Rose was the perfect image of Willow
to him for a moment; her light, her goodness, her determination. He smiled,
gratefulness in every tear that was spilling over onto his cheeks.

"Thank you," he said meaningfully. "So much."

Rose smiled back at him, letting go of his cheek. "What do I do?"
* * * * * *

"All right." Angel set the book down and lit the candle, nodding at Kate,
who was leaving. The spell only required Willow and Rose, and Angel would
serve as translator, so Kate had decided to go home. She smiled at him and
then closed the door behind her. When Angel heard the click, he turned to
Rose. "Repeat after me."

She nodded.

"What once was hers, I now return," he said quietly. "May the soul live
forever and and the candle always burn."

Rose's smile trembled, but she repeated him.

Angel glanced at her for a moment before continuing. "May I live and breathe
in my own time, and let me return what is not mine."

Rose whispered the last words, watching as Angel inserted the needle with
Willow's blood on it into the wax of the candle. Then Rose blew out the
candle as Angel instructed. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the
frightening coldness that she had felt when she had been brought to the
future, but no feeling came.

When she opened them again, Angel was looking at her nervously. "Why didn't
that work?"

"I... I..." Rose's eyes widened in alarm. "I do not know."

Angel's eyes suddenly fastened on her neck, and Rose felt a fleeting feeling
of alarm. A vampire... With a quick smile, she shook her head. Angel would
never hurt her, she was sure of it. Finally, she asked, "What is wrong?"

"Your necklace. Where is it?" he asked quickly.

"I... needed money... I sold it. For quite a bit," she stammered.

Angel stood too fast, knocking his chair over. "Dammit!" he ground out, "We
need that necklace. Everything needs to be as it was for you to go back, for
Willow to be healed. We need that necklace and we need it now."

Rose shut her eyes in regret, and then opened them, hurriedly telling Angel
where she had sold it. He nodded, walking over to the door and grabbing his
coat. "For how much?"

"Three hundred dollars," she whispered in shame.

"That's all?" he asked in relief. "That's an heirloom, you know. Pass it
down through your family," he instructed. "In this time, you could have
gotten ten times as much. Go back and remember that."

Rose nodded in worry, and Angel smiled. "We'll get it back. I need to
hurry. Watch Willow."

Rose lifted her head again and looked down. When she looked back up, Angel
was gone.
* * * * * *

"Willow," Rose whispered over Willow's ragged breathing, "I know that you
love him. I know that I have to leave. I just pray that you can forgive me
for... wanting him. I've wanted him my entire life. I've loved him as long."

She squeezed Willow's hand. "And I hold no ill will towards you for keeping
him. This is where he belongs. But please do not leave him after I'm gone.
Please stay with him forever, and let him be yours. Please do not deny him
the things that he needs. I love him now," Rose confessed. "And I shall
love him forever. You must feel the same way."

Willow started, and then her eyes opened weakly. Her voice was too quiet to
be heard, but Willow moved her lips tiredly. 'I do,' she mouthed.

"And I do too," Angel murmured from the doorway, clutching the necklace in
his hands. He quickly approached Rose and fastened it around her neck. She
smiled at him and stood, moving into the other room.

Angel replaced her for a moment, taking Willow's hand and stroking the top of
it gently. "I love you, Willow. I want you to know that."

Again, she mouthed her words. 'I know that.'

Angel smiled, nodding, and released her hand. He leaned down and pressed a
tender, but far from chaste, kiss onto her lips before joining Rose in the
other room.

Rose was sitting at the table, and she looked perfectly centered and calm,
for the first time since she had agreed to leave. She gazed up at Angel
affectionately, and watched him light the candle. This time, she didn't need
him to voice the words.

"What once was mine, I now return. Let the soul live forever and the candle
always burn," she said steadily, staring into the flame. "May I live and
breathe in my own time, and let me return what is not mine."

Her eyes locked on Angel as he leaned forward and re-inserted the needle with
Willow's blood. Rose licked her lips, closed her eyes...

And blew out the candle.

When she opened them, she was home.
* * * * * *

Angel sighed with relief as Rose shimmered and disappeared before his eyes,
and he touched her hand as she left him, hoping she would remember him for
what he was now and not what he had been when he was alive.

As soon as Rose was gone, Angel let his shoulders sag, and let out an
unneeded breath. He touched the still-melting wax regretfully, but he knew
that having Rose come to them was possibly the best thing for Willow and
himself. Who knew if he would have kept his feelings locked inside of him
forever? Who knew if Willow would have ever admitted to her love?

Angel started to stand, and then his eyes widened as Willow's scream tore
apart the night.

He dashed into the room, and to her bedside. Gripping her hand tightly, he
begged her to look at him. "Willow! Open your eyes! Willow, talk to me.
Talk to me, Will. What happened?!"

Her eyes opened, and she looked up at him sadly for a moment. Angel stared
in desperation as he watched the light die in her beautiful green orbs, and
heard her give her last breath.

Shock slowly seeped into his limbs, and he leaned over to kiss her one last
time.

Willow was dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Now I'm so in love with your idea,
I could live inside one single kiss."
--Kelly Hogan
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A grief that Angel hadn't known in years overwhelmed him. He lowered his
head to the mattress, his forehead touching Willow's shoulder, and wept.
This shouldn't be the way one realizes their love; by losing the person they
care for, he thought numbly. And he'd loved her so much.

Wasted so much time.... Time he could have spent holding her or learning
things about her that he'd only dreamed she would tell him. Holding her
hand. Making love to her. Being with her. For the rest of her life.

And in his heart, for the rest of his as well.

How often was it that a person could find such a pure love twice? Something
so clean and right, and so denied for too long.... He'd lost her.

Angel's sobs were muffled by the sheets, but he felt them in his gut;
wrenching and tearing out his insides, his heart falling into oblivion.
Willow reached out and stroked his hair gently to soothe him, but Angel shook
his head, refusing her comfort. He didn't deserve comfort, and wouldn't take
it. Even if it had been from...

His head snapped up, his face streaked with the tears he had hoped he would
never have to cry again. "Willow?"

Her eyes glittered with tears of compassion for him. Her lips looked full
and soft, and her complexion was healthy and warm. She smiled. "Angel."

His mouth opened in shock. "H-How? What does this mea--?"

"Shhh," Willow commanded tenderly, her cool touch leaving ghostly trails
across the skin of his face as she caressed him. "Questions for later.
Right now... Just kiss me."

A warm, stunned laugh worked its way out of his throat, and he nodded
eagerly, leaning forward. Holding her face in his hands for an instant, he
realized that it wasn't a dream, realized that it was very real indeed. She
lowered her eyelids, and he watched in fascination as her lashes brushed the
top of her cheek. Perfect. Inviting.

Alive.

Quickly, he dipped his head to meet her lips with his own. Sparks filled his
chest, and danced around in his stomach as he allowed an almost-forgotten
emotion to warm his heart completely. Gently and warmly they kissed, as if
to seal a promise given a long while ago, saving the passion for another time.

Passion could wait, Willow thought. Right now, this was better.
* * * * * *

Willow joined him the living room after changing, looking refreshed and
clean. She sidled up next to him on the couch and leaned against his arm,
inhaling his scent. He smiled down at her.

"Find anything?" she asked calmly.

"Not yet," he answered, his brow furrowing with concentration. His slipped
his arm around her and she cuddled into his side. "I really don't think that
there's an explanation for this spell in the book."

Willow tilted her head to the side. "Well, maybe there isn't one at all.
Maybe..." She licked her lips thoughtfully. "Maybe the spell itself is the
explanation. Turn to it."

He did as she instructed, and then read aloud from the text. "What once was
hers, I now return. May the soul live forever, and the candle always burn.
May I live and breathe in my own time, and let me return what is not mine."
He shrugged. "Mean something to you?"

She looked up at him affectionately, understanding sweeping over her face.
"It means everything to me. Look at it, Angel."

He turned back to the book, confused, and stared at the words for a minute.
Slowly, amazement filled his features, and he looked back to Willow. "Does
this mean what I... Do you feel any different?"

Willow shook her head. "Not really. A little, well, healthier I suppose.
But other than that, I feel the same. Except..." She blushed. "It sounds
strange, but breathing seems a little odd to me now."

"You're immortal," he whispered in awe. "That's what this is saying, right?"

"I think so," she confirmed shyly. "I mean, it says... I would have just
thought that my soul would have lived, but I guess it means..."

"You're immortal," he repeated. He turned to face her, taking her shoulders
in his hands and staring at her for a moment. A smile swept over his face;
bright and golden, full of happiness. "Willow, this is..."

"Perfect?" she offered quietly. Then she smiled back. "I think it is, too.
It'll take some getting used to, but I'm pretty sure that it'll work out in
the end. Especially since, well... You know."

"Know?"

"Well," she elaborated, "Especially since I'm with you. Everything will work
out now that I'm with you." Her cheeks got rosy again. "I like to think
that, anyway."

His voice got soft and rough, tender. His hands slipped through her hair. "I
like to think that too."
* * * * * *

"Do you think we'll make it on time?" Willow asked anxiously, holding onto
Angel's arm as they ran down the terminal a week later.

"We'd better, since I risked flying," he muttered, only half-kidding. "I
mean, really. Why does everything he does have to make things hard for me?"

Willow hid a grin. "Because you both like it that way, and you know it.
Anyway, Xander didn't really plan on it being so soon. He thought there
would be a few days left, at least. But you know Cordy."

"Always impatient," Angel agreed. "Thank goodness they're three hours ahead
of us, because I might have gotten stuck with a pretty bad sunburn."

"It's so far," Willow complained suddenly, "From the gate to the lot. We
need to find a cab."

Angel swirled around on her, a feral grin spreading over his features.
"That's because you're so slow," he grinned, sweeping her into his arms.
Willow shrieked as he lifted her up and placed her firmly over his shoulder,
smacking her once on the bottom before he began moving swiftly on their way
again.

She began laughing, and pounded him playfully on the back as he dodged people
moving past them. "This isn't helping!" she insisted.

"Maybe not," he answered, holding her tightly in place, "But you really know
how to show a vampire a good time."

Finally Angel stopped and set her down, and Willow took a moment to regain
her balance as he hailed a taxi. She held onto his hand as they jumped into
the vehicle and gave the driver instructions to go to Mercy Hospital, and
then laughed as he turned and gave her a surprise kiss.

"Willow," he murmured, breaking the kiss slowly.

"Mmm?"

"I love you," he whispered huskily. Then he paused, his smile falling away.
"I just wish it hadn't taken so much to have made me realize it."

"It was just a little magic," she defended, smiling. She looked into his
eyes, touching his cheek. "And, anyway... We're still in love, and the
magic's faded."

Angel looked at her softly, noting the warmth and gentleness in her eyes,
the softness of her hand on his cheek, the silkiness of her hair.

He leaned down and kissed her slowly, his lips teasing hers, his tongue hotly
sinking into her mouth. She melted against him in delight, scratching the
back of his scalp lightly with her fingernails, then letting her hand trail
down to his chest as the kiss went on.

When he pulled back, he looked at her, and saw the magic flare in her eyes.
The magic they created together.

His voice was a whisper as he kissed her again.

"Not entirely."

The End



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