His vision blurred.
The first thing he noticed was the immense pain in his side. Next came the even greater pain in his chest. He gritted his teeth.
The old, familiar ache was back.
Blinking to clear his sight, he tried to sit up, but felt something
restraining his arms and legs.
He struggled weakly against his bounds but knew it was futile. Then
the inevitable happened.
He started to cry.
Leaning back against the hard wooden surface, he proceeded to sob helplessly,
drowning in the
frighteningly vivid memories which were both his own and utterly foreign
at the same time.
His bindings were rapidly loosened and he lifted his head.
"A-angel?"
The meekness of the question only worsened his pain. Blinking again to clear the tears from his eyes, he tried to get a good look at his capture. The figure was blurry and completely indistinguishable except for one thing.
Red.
"A-are you okay?"
The blur took a step closer and suddenly he realized he hadn't answered her first question. Pulling himself up into a seated position, he flinched slightly when she retreated a few steps.
"Willow? It's...it's me...."
He heard her let out a strange little gasping sound, almost like a choked sob. Her reaction was enough to send him into tears all over again. He buried his face in his hands in embarassment.
"Oh Angel!"
She leaped onto the table with him, hugging him fiercely while they both cried.
"Angel, you're back, you're back..." she murmured repeatedly while rocking him soothingly back and forth.
He shook his head again trying to get away.
It was terrible. The visions of how he'd attacked Willow. The bloodlust. The way he'd gripped her neck with every intention of draining her.
He remebered how he'd pursued Ms. Calendar...the adrenaline thrill it gave him to see the terror in her eyes...the snap her neck made when it broke. He could recall the smell of her cool skin as he laid her out on Giles' bed and the feel of the roses he scattered on the watcher's floor. But most vividly, he recalled the look of pain and betrayal in Buffy's eyes as she fought him. He'd never forget how thin and pale she was when she was in the hospital and how he'd had every intention of using that against her. It made him sick. They'd never forgive him. Never speak to him again.
Not that he could blame them.
"Willow..I-I'm so sorry...I-I..Jenny..she's..Oh God, I have to get out
of here..."
pushing her away gently, he tried to wipe the tears away and limped
towards the door.
"Angel! No, Angel, it's almost daylight, you can't go home through there!" she pounced off the table and ran to follow him.
"I know," his voice sounded harsh and rough.
Not quite comprehending, she opened her mouth to respond but suddenly
the truth hit her.
'He knew'? He WANTED to die? The realization was slow and odd. He intended
to commit suicide. A numb sensation invaded her body as she. He was going
to purposefully go out into the sunlight one last time and kill himself.
How..sad. How..poetic. How....stupid. It was then that something strange
happened.
She got mad.
"What?!"
He jumped slightly at her high pitched shriek.
"You WHAT?!"
He was somewhat taken aback by her reaction.
"I just spent the last five hours anchoring your soul to your body and you WHAT?"
"Willow, please, just let me g-,"
"I don't THINK so," suddenly, she was on a roll. She was furious and tired, not to mention injured both emotionally as well as physically. And she was not going to take it any more. "Do NOT make me forcibly knock you out and drag you back to your apartment, Angel," she put her hands on her hips in classic Cordelia style, " I am NOT going to let you die, do you hear me? Do you have any idea what I went through to get you here?"
Unfortunately, he did. He knew only too well. "Willo-,"
"Angel, you have to FIGHT! Are you listening to me?"
Willow Rosenberg: motivational speaker, that's who she was.
"Buffy needs you! We all need you, w-what happened these past few weeks, that wasn't you," she tried to reason with him, "That was something else, some horrible thing which is never coming back. I made sure of that, and I'm not letting you waste this, Angel, I-I'm just not..." Her voice broke towards the end but she managed to keep her eyes hard and demanding. Without the involuntary trembling of her chin, it might have actually been convincing.
He shook his head in a show of resignation. He was tired. So very, very tired, "Willow, it's for the best, please, try and understand." With that he turned towards the door and walked out into the hall.
Without even thinking she bounded out after him and leaped into the air, tackling him from behind.
"Wi-, OW!" he shouted as she grabbed two fistfuls of his hair and pulled him down to the ground with her.
"You are NOT leaving here, got it?" she growled through clenched teeth.
He stared up on her in shock. What had happened to the meek, shy, passive girl he had known mere weeks before? Little Willow Rosenberg had seriously grown up on those past few weeks. Thanks, in a large part, to him. This fact put him in a very awkward and troubled position.
And he knew it.
So there they were, with her hovering breathlessly above and him lying flat on his back below. They stared at eachother unwaveringly as a true battle of wills took place. She bit her lip in frustration and narrowed her eyes for effect. He kept his face completely blank except for the occasional wince when she readjusted her grip on his hair.
Neither could help but wonder exactly how they'd gotten into this postion
to begin with...