It had been three weeks.

Three weeks since she’d last seen him. Three weeks since they’d had sex— ‘Made love,’ she corrected herself. Three weeks of not being able to look her friends, especially Buffy, in the eye. Two weeks of crying herself to sleep. One week of trying to convince herself that there was nothing wrong; that it wasn’t because she was ugly, or geeky, or that she had been bad at it and he was being all avoidy because he didn’t want to tell her—that there had to be some other reason why he was staying away.

The sex had been—painful. There had definitely been pleasure too, lots of pleasure. But after the pleasure had faded and she no longer had his presence to comfort her, the pain had returned; a dull, bruised ache that remained for days—a constant reminder of both what they’d done, and that she hadn’t seen him since.

Afterwards it had been beautiful; she had been so happy snuggled up next to him in his small bed, until he had reminded her that she should be getting home ‘before her parents started to worry’.

She didn’t want to have to explain to him that they probably wouldn’t even notice that she wasn’t home. And if they did happen to notice that she was missing, they weren’t likely to worry, they’d just assume that she was at Xander’s, or maybe Buffy’s—because their daughter would never be doing anything that could be construed as wrong. So she had just nodded her agreement, and accepted his offer of a walk home.

That had been nice, walking through the night with him by her side and the stars twinkling overhead. When they’d reached her house he’d pulled her into the shadows and kissed her so tenderly, telling her that he’d see her soon and wishing her sweet dreams.

That was three weeks ago, and she hadn’t seen him since.

She’d waited expectantly for the first few days, making excuses to her friends so she could be alone, where he could come to her without fear of discovery. They were going to tell Buffy, they were just waiting for the right moment. And it wasn’t like Buffy and Angel had ever actually been an item; Buffy just had a crush. Angel had explained to her that the Powers that Be wanted him to watch over the Slayer and he didn’t want to hurt Buffy’s feelings and consequently have her not talking to him, so he’d played along—let her think he was interested when really it was Willow he’d been interested in all along. So she wasn’t really cheating on her best friend by sleeping with her boyfriend behind her back, it was all just a big misunderstanding.

When she still hadn’t heard from him after a week, she’d gone to his room, knocking quietly at first and then louder, thinking that he was probably just asleep—but even after knocking really loudly and calling his name, there was no response. She’d gone again, of course, whenever she could slip away, but was greeted with silence each time.

*****

The music thumped, pulsing out from the club’s antiquated speakers as the dancers shimmied and writhed to the staccato beat.

Willow sat hidden in the back corner of the club, watching miserably from the shadows as her friends laughed and joked or took a turn out on the dance floor. They’d asked her to come along, of course, and she had declined, stating a history paper that was due as her excuse. Now she sat alone, sipping despondently at her soda and wishing there was some way to make things right.

A dark wraith flitting through the even darker shadows along the far wall caught her attention, and abandoning her soda, she set off to intercept.

She watched him come to a halt, staring at her and then back over his shoulder to where Buffy and Xander were making their way back to the table after finishing a dance. With a sigh, he straightened his shoulders and walked towards her, a warm, winning smile firmly in place as he greeted her. “Willow! I haven’t seen you around. How have you been?”

She blinked, her mouth opening to say…something, but she wasn’t quite sure what. 'How could he be acting like this…like nothing had happened and they were just asking about the weather or something?'

When she continued to stare silently at him he took the opportunity to escape. “Well, it was good seeing you again, but I gotta fly, you know… things to do.”

He moved past her, heading towards the back. She watched him walking away and her mouth snapped shut, her shoulders straightening and eyes narrowing with determination. “Angel,” she called after his retreating back. When he slowed but didn’t turn around she called out again, “Please, Angel. We need to talk.”

Angel turned around; forsaking all pretence of being happy to see her, he stalked towards her, his lip curled derisively. “No, we don’t ‘need to talk’. We fucked, it was… well, to tell the truth, it was nothing special… move on. I have.”

“You don’t mean that!”

“Don’t I?” he queried. “Why would I be interested in you, Willow? Answer me that? What interest could I possibly have in a dowdy little nerd like you when there is so much… more… waiting for me? You were nothing but a convenient fuck—a distraction.”

He circled around her. “Something as pure as Buffy, is worth waiting for,” he breathed against her ear, his nose nuzzling into her hair in a mockery of affection. “Doesn’t mean a fella doesn’t get an itch that needs scratching, and why rely on my hand when I can find some gullible little wallflower to warm my sheets? Not that you took a whole hell of a lot of wooing, did ya?” His tongue traced lasciviously up the side of her neck, as he gripped her shoulders harshly, pulling her back against him and grinding his erection roughly against her ass. “Face it, you were practically begging for it. I just gave you what you wanted. Not my problem if you thought it was something more.”

Willow jerked her head to the side and away from his still-questing tongue as she tried unsuccessfully to free herself from his iron grip. “You think you have a chance with Buffy?” she demanded, her voice thick with tears. “Once I tell her…”

“Do you honestly believe she’d believe you? It’ll be your word against mine. I will be suitably shocked and wounded that you would lay such allegations… but of course I will be understanding. I’ll forgive you and explain to her that it’s not your fault, that you don’t mean any malice by it—you just have a crush, that’s all.” He laughed. “Gorgeous creature, the Slayer. Amazing warrior and a beacon of goodness and purity. But, well, Buffy’s…”

“Standing right behind you. But, please, don’t let me interrupt, what am I, exactly?”

“Buffy, I…”

“Save it, Angel.” She shot him a look that promised painful retribution. “You alright, Will?” Stepping around the vampire, she reached for the trembling redhead.

“Buffy, I’m sor…”

“No, Will. No need.” Buffy placed her hand on Willow’s arm, guiding her away from the vampire. “Come on, Xander is over there, we’ll take you home. And if Angel has any sense, he will have left Sunnydale by morning.”

“No.” Willow pulled her arm away from the slayer, shaking her head and pleading, “I don’t want Xander to know… not… not yet. Please?”

“Okay.” She turned her attention once more to the still-hovering vampire and growled, “Get out of here. Now!” She watched his progress up the darkened corridor and out the back exit, waiting until he had disappeared before turning her attention back to her friend. “You go into the bathroom and wash your face and I’ll ditch Xander and come get you, kay?”

“Buffy, I’m really sorry.”

The slayer shook her head once more. Fighting back her own tears, she watched helplessly as her friend’s face crumpled once more. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault, Will. What he did to you… Guess Giles was right, vampires can’t be trusted. None of them. Not even ones with souls. I’m just so sorry I let you get hurt… If I hadn’t… I should have staked him as soon as I knew what he was.” She pulled the other girl into a hug and they clung to each other for a minute; each drawing strength and support from other as they bid farewell to the last tattered remnants of their childhood.

the end