Title: A Vacation to Remember
Author: claudia6913
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: W/A
Summary: Willow is in desperate need of a vacation and Angel is more then willing to help out.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Joss and Co. do. Lucky bastards.
Distribution: NHA, SoG, redsoulmates, angelusmate, and anyone else I post to. All others just ask. All of my work is archived on my site. http://www.angelfire.com/vamp/claudia6913
Warnings: Buffy and Kate fans, you may not want to read. I do not portray these characters nicely.
Author’s Notes: I’m a little slow on this fic, I know, I’m sorry.
Feedback: yes please! ghotztstarz@yahoo.com
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Chapter 9
Angel got to the point immediately. “What do you need Willow for?”
“Yes, well, that’s not easily explained,” Giles said, removing his glasses to clean them ritualistically. After putting his glasses back on, he searched through the pile of books and pulled out a single piece of parchment. He read over it for a minute before handing it over to Willow. “This is why you are here, or rather, why we think you should be here.”
Willow gently took the old parchment and set it down to read it. She felt Angel lean over her shoulder and read along with her. It made no sense to her. It was in another language, one she didn’t know yet.
“Giles, uh, this is nice…but I can’t read it,” Willow said. Angel tightened his hand on her shoulder and she knew that he was thinking the same thing she was. That this was a trap of some kind. Some elaborate trap that her supposed friends had set up to get her to…do what? That’s what they didn’t know. Angel thought it was to get her away from him, but she couldn’t see why they would do that. Normally her friends would just talk out their concerns, not do something like this. Not try to trap her into something that could possibly risk her life or their friendship. They couldn’t, they wouldn’t. They were her friends, her family. She’d fought beside them throughout high school. She’d let Buffy cry on her shoulder when Angel was sent to hell. She’d helped Xander with his homework and his tie for the prom. Countless nights she’d stayed up with Giles researching some new demon that had recently made the Hellmouth its home and feeding ground.
“What is this?” Angel asked heatedly. “Why give her something you know she can’t read?”
“That’s just it,” Giles said, “she can read it.”
Angel wanted to rage, to hurt them. What were they talking about, saying that she could read it? Angel couldn’t even recognize the language represented by the small, faded characters. Granted, he’d not had exposure to the amount of languages that Willow had; but if she said she couldn’t read it…then she couldn’t read it. What was up with all the cryptic talk? He didn’t like it, nor did he understand what Giles was up to.
“Damn it Giles, just tell us!” Angel yelled.
The fist connected with his jaw before he saw her move. Buffy stood over him with a stake poised and ready to strike. “Don’t you ever yell at Giles again, or this stake will be the last thing you ever feel.”
“Buffy, stop,” Willow said, coming around to put herself between them.
“Stay out of this, Willow. It’s none of your business.”
“Like hell it isn’t! If you’ve forgotten, I’m with Angel. He’s mine now, not yours. So, get your filthy hands off him. Now.”
Buffy looked up at Willow. The absolute confusion of the situation registered on Buffy’s face as she looked at the girl who was once her meek, obedient best friend.
Taking the opportunity, Angel pushed Buffy off of him and stood up, placing himself in front of Willow. The atmosphere in the room had gone from slightly tense, to menacing. The hair on the back of Willow’s neck stood on end. She suddenly didn’t want to be here, she wanted to be far from here in fact. Tugging on Angel’s sleeve, she began to step backwards towards the door. No one had moved but her and Angel, and yet the room seemed somehow to close in on itself, making her feel claustrophobic all of a sudden. Angel sensed her distress, grabbed her hand, and ran out of there.
They hadn’t gone far, just outside of Giles’ apartment complex, but Willow had seen nothing but a giant blur until they stopped. She couldn’t even remember her feet touching the ground.
“Angel,” Willow said breathlessly. “What, what was that all about in there?”
“I don’t know,” he said darkly, “but I didn’t like it.”
“Neither did I.”
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He walked five steps, turned, and then walked back five steps. It was a small room, not much good for pacing, but he made do. He had too much on his mind to worry about proper pacing space. So lost was he in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice where he was, or that he was walking out of the small room, up the stairs, and out into the night. He didn’t notice that he was without any kind of protection from the predators of Sunnydale.
Xander couldn’t be bothered with these little details. They were nothing compared to the conundrum he faced at this point and time. He had a secret. Well, not really a secret. The rest of the Scooby Gang knew. Even Spike knew. But not Willow. Moreover, she was the one that needed to know. Right? He was sure she would want to know what they, the others of the Gang, had been up to while she was over in L.A. with Mr. Broody Pants.
His inner turmoil continued as his feet led him on a path they knew well. He headed straight for the Rosenberg residence.
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“I just don’t get it,” Willow said, as she walked hand-in-hand with Angel down the street. They were heading in the vague direction of her house, but they were in no hurry to get there. “I mean, why? Why the secrecy? Why show me a text I can’t read? Why insist that I can read it?” She had never seen Giles act that way. He had always accepted what she could and could not do. When he’d asserted to her that she could, in fact, read the text it was, to say the least, disturbing. She knew that Angel wasn’t buying it either.
There was nothing Angel could say. He didn’t have the answers, he just had the same questions. Mainly revolving around Giles and the text Willow could supposedly read. Taking her away from here was their best option, but he knew she wouldn’t leave. Not now, she had to find out what was going on. So, they would stay and he would look out for her. Sighing, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
“I don’t know, Little One,” he said affectionately.
They continued on in silence, listening to the night sounds. Eventually they turned onto her street. They saw someone walking towards them. Willow couldn’t make out who it was. The person turned and stepped onto the porch of her house. She looked up at Angel quizzically.
“Xander,” he said, in answer to her silent question.
Quickly they walked up to her house just as Xander turned to leave. He hadn’t seen them approach and gave a startled yelp when he looked up and saw them.
“Xander, what is it?” Willow asked, concerned. He looked nervous. His hands wouldn’t stay still, they played with his shirt, got shoved in his pockets, clasped behind his back, then started over again.
“Oh, uh, hi,” he said, giving a hesitant smile. “Deadboy.” He nodded at Angel, and Angel nodded back.
“Well…,” Willow asked trailing off.
“Right, well, we…we need to talk.”
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