Title: Scattered Thoughts: Promise You Forever
Author: JR
Email: JRR42@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17 If you shouldn’t be here, be somewhere else.
Episode spoilers: Doppelgangland, Prom, G1 & 2, set between G2 and Buffy season 4/Angel season1
Archive: My site only! If you want to link to it, please contact me to let me know where.
Series/Sequel: Follows ‘Scattered Thoughts: The Road Has Come to an End’, but you *don’t* have to read that before this -- this one can stand alone.
Previous parts: www.angelfire.com/de/theparlor/buffy.html.
Disclaimer: Angel, Willow, et al, are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB. All characters are used without permission. This story is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights, nor is any profit being made from it.
Thanks: As always, to Carrie and to Marius especially for coming through at the 11th hour. You two are the best :-) Thanks so much for all the work you do!

...gonna do next.

(Epilogue)

I wish I could say that Willow and I spent the next couple of hours holding and cuddling each other like lovers often do.

But that wasn’t the case.

There was little I could do when gravity forced my softened organ to slide out of its warm haven. Willow and I both sighed at the separation, knowing the finality of the moment. With one last, tender kiss, my new lover lifted herself off of my lap. She didn’t go far, though, leaving only a few feet of minimum safe distance between us.

It was at that point that reality came crashing down upon us. With the sexual veil that had held us so spellbound effectively over, all that remained were Willow, myself and about a thousand recriminations. The question that was obviously on both our minds was: Just how in the hell did this happen?

I guess Willow’s conscience was harder on her than mine was on me. Then again, I was going through my own special version of Hell, worrying whether or not I was going to lose my soul again. Watching Willow, though; well, it helped to distract me -- a little bit at any rate.

Her skin was about the same colour as her hair when she rose rather unsteadily to her feet. I have to admit that I knew a true moment of fear that she would run out and leave me -- quite literally -- hanging where I was. I should, however, have known better.

I was afforded a nice view of her ass as she leaned over to blindly grab for one of our abandoned articles of clothing to cover herself. I say ‘blindly’ because as it happened Willow had picked up my grey pullover by accident. She donned it anyway as she crossed the expansive living area only to disappear into my bedroom.

Despite my guilt over what I -- we -- had just done, I couldn’t help but think about how sexy Willow looked as she walked. My shirt was enormous on her, hanging down to the midway point of her shapely thighs. And the way the material draped casually over the slight swell of her bottom -- well, let’s just say I doubted that particular shirt *ever* looked so good on me.

Willow returned quickly, no doubt terrified that the happiness clause of my curse might have invoked itself during her absence. I could see that she was nervously fingering the ornate box in which I keep the spell and all the ingredients that it requires. I hastened to reassure her that I was still the Angel part of myself, all the while trying to keep my own barely surpressed terror of losing my soul out of my voice. Not surprisingly, she doubted the fact at first, using her keen intellect to out-think herself on the matter.

“How do I know that you didn’t just change into Angelus, and now you’re playing a waiting game so you can kill me when I unlock the chains?” Willow asked suspiciously.

“Trust me, you’ll know,” I retorted, a grim expression coming to my face. “I couldn’t stop screaming the last time it happened.”

There was little Willow could say after that, so we sat there not speaking to each other for about fifteen minutes. Usually, I don’t mind the quiet, but when it comes from Willow -- who could get a *wall* to talk back to her after a few minutes of idle conversation -- it’s just simply unnatural. So says the guy who is the *walking undead*.

Finally, I guess the oppressiveness of the silence just became too much for her.

“Are you cold...or hungry...or anything?” she questioned me with nervous shyness.

Actually, I was both. I’d been on my way home with take-out when I stumbled across Willow crying on the floor. Add to that the fact that I had just burned a lot of blood with our...physical endeavors. As for being cold, I wasn’t, in all truth, but sitting there bare-assed naked on a stone floor was getting a tad bit drafty...and embarrassing.

Saying yes to both of her questions, I talked Willow through the directions on where to find the bag of blood I’d stashed outside. Even with my near perfect memory, I had to struggle to recall the exact location of where I’d left the bag. It’s funny how easily one’s sense of passing time can get messed up when there is sufficient distraction. While I had returned to the mansion only about ninety minutes or so prior to that point, my internal clock seemed to believe that it was much later than it actually was.

When Willow come back from the garden, she made a momentary detour back into my bedroom. From there she emerged with both the bag of blood and a comforter from my neatly-made bed, which I had been planning to leave behind. Dropping the bag on the floor, Willow approached me slowly -- whether out of shyness or caution, I guess I’ll never know.

I felt something stir in me as she tenderly draped the blanket over -- and with a little maneuvering on both our parts -- under me as well. It wasn’t *that* kind of stir, though. In fact, it was a certain kind of gentleness, like I wasn’t just being wrapped in a blanket but with Willow’s unique and special way of caring for those whom she loves most.

I was taken totally by surprise by my realization. I kept asking myself: Could it be true? Did Willow honestly consider me as somebody she cared about?

It seemed like a stupid question when I considered what we had just done together. I mean, I know better than most how meaningless sex can be -- mindless copulation for one’s own personal pleasure. Yet, I knew that what had happened between Willow and me was hardly meaningless to either of us. For one thing, she just wasn’t the kind of girl that casually slept around with her acquaintances. Which brought me back to my original line of thought: Why? Why did we do this?

Instead of answering my own question, I had only created new ones. I was so distracted by my pondering that I didn't get squeamish about feeding in front of her. Hell, I didn’t even realize that I *was* feeding from the little plastic container that Willow patiently held for me until she said something about it.

“Angel?” she questioned.

“Hmm?” I answered. It was at that point I became aware of what was happening -- and extremely self-conscious of it.

“Maybe this is none of my business, and if it isn’t please just say so. I don’t mean to ask you something too personal or anything...”

“Will?” I politely interrupted, trying to get her to *ask* the question before she offered her apologies.

“Huh?” Willow looked confused for a moment. “Oh! The question, right? I was just wondering...I mean...I guess I always assumed... what I mean is...why aren’t you all ‘grrr’ right now?”

I couldn’t help it. I just starting laughing. After all that lead up, I couldn’t help being amused over hearing her ask such a simple question.

The only problem was that once I started chuckling, I couldn’t seem to stop. Willow’s expressions were adding fuel to the fire, as well. From confusion to embarrassment, then on to amazement and pride; after a while, a small smile appeared on her face as well.

“What are you smiling about?” I managed to get out after I finally started to settle down again.

“You,” she responded without fanfare, setting the container of blood on the floor out of harm’s way.

“Me?”

“You,” Willow confirmed, her green eyes dancing with merriment. “I’ve never seen you laugh like that before. It’s really...nice.”

“Despite popular opinion, I do have a sense of humor, you know,” I defended, but not in an accusatory way.

“I know,” Willow smiled. “I’ve known that ever since that night you came to my room for help with the whole Ford-thing. Do you remember that night?”

“Like it was yesterday...”

...And so it began.

The conversation between Angel and me began flowing freely after that. Memories -- both good and bad -- were our main topic of discussion. We talked about everything, I think. From our successes in battling the forces of evil to some of the more scary near-defeats that we managed to get ourselves out of. Nothing was left out.

Except for what had happened between us earlier that night. Neither of us seemed ready to talk about it, so we both just avoided it.

I learned a lot about Angel in those few short hours -- more than I had discovered in the three years we’d known each other. It was fascinating to hear about events we’d lived through from his perspective. While I always knew that he fretted constantly about Buffy’s safety, I never realized that he also worried about the rest of us, too.

All these years, he had been watching over Giles, Xander and me like a typical guardian angel. It was almost three in the morning when I finally managed to pull that particular truth out of him. The stories came then. Tales of the countless nights Angel followed us to our respective houses to make sure that we reached them safely. From time to time he had even quietly dispatched a few vampires and other nasties that showed an unhealthy interest in making us their dinner d’jour.

It was that last quiet, reluctant admission that scared me most of all.

Maybe it was learning how close I had come to death without even being aware of it, but I suddenly felt the urge to hug Angel. I wanted...*needed* to be near him, to let him protect me that one last time.

I actually thought it out before I moved. I figured that if I stayed low enough, there was no way he could attack me even if he ‘turned to the dark side again.’ Following through, I scooted closer to Angel, pressing my body along the length of his leg. Before he could chastise me, I leaned over, resting my head gently on one of his thighs. I felt the muscles in his leg go tense at first, and I sensed that he was about to tell me not to get so close to him.

I wasn’t about to leave, though. Even with his arms suspended by the thick metal chains, I still felt safe -- protected by my own Guardian Angel.

“Thank you,” I whispered softly. “Thank you for looking out for me, for watching over me all this time.”

For the longest time Angel said nothing. The only sign I received that he had heard me at all was the eventual relaxing of the rock-hard muscle under the blanket my face was resting upon. When I realized that Angel seemed to be okay with the situation, I sighed a little breath of relief and snuggled a little deeper against his leg.

I was teetering on the verge of sleep when I heard it, a soft whisper that matched my own of a few minutes earlier.

“You’re welcome, Will.”

Smiling in contentment, I finally allowed myself to fall asleep.




Next Chapter