~Chapter One~

It was the pain that eventually pulled Willow out of unconsciousness as all the nerve endings in her left hand screamed for recognition.

"Yikes!" Willow yelped, bolting upright to blow on her burning finger. When that did little to ease the caustic pain, she resorted to violently shaking her hand instead, but it was all in vain. Soon she was throwing back the covers and vaulting out of bed. It was as she was hopping up and down barefooted on the soft carpet, cursing softly and shaking her hand until her arm hurt from the strain, that she suddenly realized where she was.

She stopped jumping, the pain forgotten.

"Bloody hell..." she murmured under her breath, slowly spinning in place to finally take note of her surroundings. "It worked! I'm...home! In my own room...and--and I remember!"

Willow paused as a moment of panic set in. She took a deep breath and began to recite the little speech that she'd come up with back in Romania. "My name is Willow Rosenberg," she began aloud to herself. "I'm 17 years old, give or take a century, my parents are Ira and Sheila Rosenberg, and I've lived in Sunnydale, on the hellmouth, all my normal life...I've spent the last 100-plus years back in time with Spike..." Willow stopped herself there and let out a sigh of relief. She did remember.

Willow moved to flip on the light so she could take a better look at her old, familiar room. Narrowing her watering eyes at the sudden brightness, Willow took it all in. From what she could tell, her bedroom was pretty much as she remembered it. Stuffed animals were piled neatly next to her white wicker bed, familiar posters and pictures adorned the walls along side her Sunnydale High banners, fish tank, books, and of course her faithful computer, which sat waiting for her upon her desk. Willow was definitely home.

Just as she was beginning to form several sarcastic comments regarding Spike's prediction that they wouldn't remember their little journey back in time, Willow happened to notice what she was wearing--her old pajamas, the midnight blue ones with the bright gold stars and moons. They certainly weren't the Rom clothes that she'd been wearing when they'd cast the spell, nor did they even remotely resemble the Victorian nightgown that she'd smuggled back. Doubt began to creep its way across her consciousness, drawing questions in its wake. The redhead soon realized that not only did she have no idea how she'd gotten into her pajamas, but she couldn't even recall getting back to her room or, for that matter, anything after they'd completed the spell in Romania.

Growing ill at ease, Willow felt a niggling sensation in the back of her mind, telling her that something else was wrong. Not only was something missing, but she just didn't feel quite right. The redhead took a few moments to compose herself, picturing her calming place and taking a few deep breaths, until she had little problem divining what was wrong. The silver ring of Angelus's that she had worn for more than a century was missing from her finger. Her left hand felt incredibly light but extremely naked without it. Glancing between her bare hand and her childish fire-resistant pajamas, Willow flopped back down on her bed to ponder these new implications.

Just as she was beginning to think that 'no ring plus no gypsy clothes equaled a trip to the funny farm', Willow became aware once again of the pain in her left hand. Inspecting her ring finger more closely, she was relieved to see the very faint band of swollen pink flesh surrounding the digit, precisely where the ring would have been. She brought the area to her mouth, alternately blowing and sucking on the injury. That's when she realized something else strange. The area around her finger wasn't hot to the touch, as it had been when Spike had originally done the spell that pulled them back through time. In fact, it was just the opposite. Her finger was freezing cold.

But at that moment, Willow could care less if would hurt every day for the rest of her life, because the pain meant that she hadn't imagined everything after all. On a hunch, Willow threw open the door to her closet and after rifling through clothes that she hadn't worn in decades, Willow found them. The Rom skirt and blouse and her favorite Victorian nightgown were hanging in the very back of her closet, just behind her winter jacket.

Before Willow knew it, a tear of relief slid down her cheek. "It *is* real, which means once again, Willow Rosenberg, you have managed to thwart insanity!" she informed herself with a smug nod of her head.

Wiping away the tear, Willow had an urgent need to see her parents again. She ran down the hall to her parent's room, only to find their bed empty. That's when she remembered that Sheila and Ira had been out of town all those years ago when Spike had kidnapped her. If Spike was right, then she and the blonde vamp had returned to the exact same time and place that they'd left. So it made sense that her parents were still gone. In fact, she took their absence as a sign that perhaps nothing had really changed as a result of her and Spike's interference.

Despite this knowledge, she sighed at having to wait yet another few days to see her parents, and trudged back to her room.
Willow's disappointment abated a bit as she realized that soon she'd be with all of her old friends again. She couldn't wait to see Xander and Oz, and if everything had worked they way she hoped, Buffy would also be in Sunnydale...and Angel..."

Before Willow's mind could completely wrap around the idea of seeing Angel and Buffy again, let alone together, something on the dresser caught her eye, distracting the redhead. Drawing closer, Willow quickly realized what it was. It was the ring, Angelus's silver band, sitting on top of her dresser as if it had been placed there. Ecstatic--not only for finding the ring but because it was another confirmation that the whole trip back in time hadn't been a figment of her overactive imagination--Willow happily picked the ring up and slid it experimentally back onto her injured finger.

The band was too big, just as it had been that first time she'd put it on--before the spell had magically shrunk it and melded it to her dainty finger. Not wanting to lose the ring, Willow set it back on top of the dresser. She tried to put the ring out of her thoughts, making herself study her room for changes instead, but her eyes kept darting back to it. Berating herself for being a 'ring junkie,' Willow soon gave in and snatched up the small circlet of silver.

Willow quickly padded down the hall to the bathroom and rifled around in the medicine cabinet until she found the Band-Aids. As she fumbled for the tiny red string to unwrap one, Willow couldn't help thinking of all the times the modern bandages would have come in handy during her trip. On Spike alone she could have gone through a few cases of the handy first-aid item. She placed one around her sore finger, and then after choosing another tiny bandage, she wrapped it around the band of the silver ring itself. When she slipped the tiny hoop back on, Willow felt a sense of relief, not only that it felt snug and secure but because it was back where it belonged. After wearing the silver band for more than 100 years, it was a part of her now. Willow didn't want to imagine ever having to give the ring up.

Pushing that thought to the back of her mind, Willow made quick work of getting herself cleaned up. She indulged in an extended brushing of her teeth, having missed modern tubed toothpaste more than she'd ever thought possible. However, the long shower that she'd been dreaming of for so long was going to have to wait. Willow needed to make sure Spike was okay and hopefully get some of her other questions answered at the same time.

Back in her room, Willow surveyed the contents of her closet and dresser drawers. Like a child on Christmas morning, she was practically giddy as she gazed at all of her 'new' and comfortable wardrobe choices.

"Jeans! I can wear jeans! And t-shirts...and sweaters...and...." Willow trailed off as her eyes raked across the bottom of her closet, noting her choice of shoes. The redhead fell to her knees, barely suppressing the urge to kiss her old footwear.

"Oh, thank goodness we didn't accidentally kill the inventor of sneakers...in a roundabout sort of way!" she giggled.

After a short trip down memory lane ala her high school wardrobe, Willow decided on a pair of familiar baggy overalls, a striped T-shirt, and red sneakers. Stripping out of her pajamas, Willow sighed with pleasure as she slipped on a pair of soft, cotton panties and a simple bra. Compared to the multiple layers of clothing she'd had to wear before, Willow was in apparel heaven. Quickly putting on the rest of the old Willow ensemble, she checked herself in the mirror. Her enthusiastic smile waned a bit.

"How come the comfortable clothes make me look like such a...nerd?" she asked her reflection. "Oh well," she added with a shrug, before grabbing a hairbrush to smooth out her long hair. "I'm sure I can find something in between Victoriana and this!"

Resigned to a large shopping trip in her near future, Willow finally headed out the door. In the back of her over-active mind, Willow knew there were other things she should be doing...questions she should be asking...but at the moment only one thing mattered. She had to make sure Spike was okay first. Then, and only then, could she look forward to seeing all of her old friends again.

***

Willow made it through two different cemeteries and was halfway through one of Sunnydale's gloomier parks before she realized that she was in her 'stalker mode'. It was instinct now. Neither her final months with the Rom nor the ten years that she'd traveled with Spike had dampened her wariness. Maybe she didn't have the Slayer's innate ability to sense vampires when they were near, but the redhead had a century's worth of hard-earned experience to fall back on. After all, Willow had spent the better part of a century avoiding vampires, stalking them, or actually living with one, and as a result she felt like she knew as much about vampires as any human could, without actually becoming one, that is.

As Willow continued on toward the mansion, a rustling in the bushes made the redhead quickly take cover behind a large tree. She peeked around the trunk just in time to see a vampire--a fledgling, she assumed, since he was still in 'game face' and making more noise than a vampire should--burst out from the bushes near where she'd been walking only a moment before. The vampire rushed by, seemingly in a hurry. That happened to be fine with Willow, especially since she wasn't too happy about her haphazard hiding place, nor did she have time to fend off a hungry vampire at that moment. When the redhead could no longer hear the vampire's footsteps running away in the opposite direction, Willow resumed her cautious trek to the mansion. She hadn't taken more than three steps before she heard another noise. This time it sounded like a scuffle.

Willow dropped to the ground before proceeding to crawl toward the noise. With a practiced hand, Willow parted the bushes as quietly as possible, but she couldn't contain the slight yelp of surprise that slipped from her lips. From her awkward angle, Willow couldn't see his face. She didn't need to. There was no mistaking him, even from the back--the leather pants, wine-colored, velvety shirt. The fact that he was holding a bleeding teen-aged girl in his grasp only cemented it. Angelus.

<Oh god...something went wrong with the curse!> Willow silently concluded. And with that realization, Willow broke her own rules of stalking. She squeaked and began scrambling backward through the underbrush noisily enough to wake the dead. Even in her panic, she couldn't keep from glancing back up...just in time to see the dark vampire turn and look her way.

Willow finally managed to get to her feet, running as fast as she could toward the mansion. After only a few strides, she decided that the mansion was probably the last place she wanted to be now that she was aware that Angelus was back. As she paused just long enough to change directions, strong hands grabbed her by the forearms.

"And where do you think you're going?" the dark vampire drawled with a smile.

"No..." she gasped, shaking her head in disbelief. After all she and Spike had been through, this could not be happening.

When he smiled at her behavior, it was all too familiar to Willow. Her heart leapt into her throat, stealing her words.

"I've been waiting here forever for you," he reminded her, his voice as deep and dark as she remembered it to be. "You think you can just sneak by me?"

Willow shoved him with all of her strength, twisting out of his grip at the same time and somehow managing to catch him by surprise. She ran as fast as she could, not thinking, not remembering all that she had learned, but in a desperate gait.

Soon she could hear him behind her, closing in. Willow picked up the pace, darting between the trees and the park benches, fitting though spaces that she knew his larger frame wouldn't...anything to put some distance between them. Sparing a glance behind to see if her pursuer was gaining, Willow ran squarely into another body.

She fell back, landing upon her backside on the damp earth. Startled, Willow looked up to find Xander standing above her, rubbing his shoulder and grimacing.

"Whoa there, Wills. What's with all the rushing and slamming into people?"

Willow's jaw dropped open. Although she'd known that she would see her childhood friend eventually, it was still a surprise after all this time.

"Xander!" Willow leapt to her feet, ignoring the hand that he held out to help her. "Xander...it's you! You're here! You're...you!" Willow said in a rush.
The surprised redhead pulled him into a crushing hug, momentarily forgetting the vampire that was stalking her.

Xander laughed. "Yeah, well, I was going to come as Cordelia, but none of her sweaters matched my pants."

"Cordelia?" Willow asked the dark-haired boy, just as the beautiful brunette walked up.

"That is *so* not funny, Xander," Cordelia informed them both. "If you want to explore your feminine side, you'll just have to find someone else's cashmere tops to stretch out."

"Talk about your scary mental images," joked the blonde Slayer as she joined the group.

Willow slid out of Xander's embrace at the sound of her friend's voice. "Buffy?"

"The one and only."

Willow threw herself into her friend's arms, tears of joy spilling down the redhead's cheeks. "It's been so long. Sometimes I thought I'd never see you again!"

Buffy awkwardly returned her friend's hug and traded a puzzled look with Xander, who just shrugged in return.

"Why, Wills? You planning on playing hooky again tomorrow? Giles said you have a fever, but you don't look that sick to me." The blonde grinned knowingly. "Willow...don't tell me you finally sacrificed your perfect attendance record in order to let your bad side out to play?" Buffy teased good-naturedly as her friend pulled away.

"Bad side?" Willow blinked at her friend, not understanding what she was talking about. Luckily it triggered her awareness of the unsafe situation that they were all in. "Oh bloody hell...I was so happy to see you that I forgot! We've got to go and go now. He's right behind me!"

Buffy had a stake in her hand in an instant, ready to do business. "What's the sitch? Vamp? Demon?"

"Angelus," Willow said in a low whisper.

The gang exchanged questioning glances over Willow's head.

"Angelus?" Buffy repeated. She then shoved the stake into Willow's hand. "You're on your own. You two are not going to pull me into your sick little games."

Willow was horrified at the blonde's attitude but grasped the stake with a practiced hand. Willow took a few paces toward the sound of the quickly approaching footsteps before turning around to face her friends. Then the redhead took a deep breath and waited. Seconds later, a cool hand clutched her shoulder. Willow grabbed hold of his arm and, once again using the vampire's weight to her own advantage, flipped him over her shoulder. The instant the Irish vampire landed on the ground at her feet, she was in motion. Without looking at his face, Willow straddled his waist, holding the stake high over her head.

The stake was halfway to the startled vampire's chest, when its forward momentum was halted by a firm grip on Willow's wrist.

"What are you doing, Willow?" Buffy huffed, wrenching it from her friend's hand. "I know you two like to play your little cat and mouse games, but don't you think you were getting a little carried away? You might have actually hurt Angel!"

"No!" Willow exclaimed adamantly, her eyes darting from the Slayer to the vampire beneath her. "You don't understand! This is..."

Her voice trailed off as she finally allowed her eyes to meet his. The soft sable eyes regarding her held no malice, no glint of mocking superiority or trickery, just a touch of mirth.

"...Angel?" Willow finished.

"Looks like my self-defense lessons are finally paying off. You almost had me that time, Willow. For a second there I thought you were really going to stake me."

Willow shook her head. "B-but the pants...the shirt..."

"They're too much, aren't they?" Angel asked, furrowing his brow. "I knew they were too much," he added under his breath. "That's the *last* time I go shopping on an empty stomach. Those salesgirls can talk me into almost anything when I'm hungry..." he joked, receiving chuckles from the others for his efforts. All except for Willow.

"You're not...you know...evil?" she squeaked, much to her own embarrassment.

Angel tilted his head a bit, his lips twitching in barely contained amusement. "Suppose that depends on your definition of the word evil."

"Oh, he's evil alright," Xander cut in. "You should see how red-pen happy he went all over my history paper on the Irish Famine. All I asked was for a little help from the guy--you know, since he'd *been* there--and now he's making me write the whole thing all over again before I turn it in on Monday." The dark-haired boy shook his head. "And you ask me if he's evil," he scoffed.

"You want to talk evil?" Buffy added. "How about Giles making us reorganize all his Watcher books at the library last week. Suddenly the Dewey Decimal System isn't good enough? That's down-right sinister!"

"And the salesgirl who talked Angel into wearing that belt must have been working some seriously dark mojo," said Cordy, adding her two cents to the light-hearted banter.

Everyone looked at the pretty, dark-haired girl.

"What?" Cordy questioned her friends with a tinge of impatience. "Can't I play too?"

Angel laughed, jostling the redhead on top of him. Realizing she was still straddling the vampire, Willow struggled to her feet and backed away. She glanced around at her friends, who were regarding her with concern but didn't seem at all worried about the vampire that was now getting to his feet.

Brushing himself off, the brown-eyed vampire took a step closer. Willow backed up a step. Cocking his head to the side, Angel took another step closer, and Willow once again took an equal step away. Willow's thoughts flashed back to their deadly dance in the woods outside the Rom camp, which felt like only yesterday to the girl.

"Cute dance, Fred and Ginger," chirped Xander. "You kids really oughta take that show on the road."

"I don't dance," the vampire said quite seriously, even as a small smile crept onto his face at their little two-step.

"An--Angelus?" Willow whispered to herself, but from the change in his expression, she knew that the vampire had heard her.

The amusement was gone, his eyes growing wider. "Rose?" he asked almost sheepishly.

Cordelia and Buffy, who'd been watching the strange display, mouthed the word 'Rose' to each other questioningly.

Willow's hands flew to cover her gaping mouth. It was Angel. The spell had worked, and Angel had never relost his soul! Relief flooded through her as she realized the vampire's bad wardrobe choices had just been a fluke.

"Angel...it worked?"

"Yes, it worked," came a feminine voice from behind her. Willow turned to find a beautiful dark-haired woman regarding her with no small measure of relief, Giles at her side.

Willow's new world began to spin out of control. When combined with all of the excitement of the last few days with the Rom, this was too much. Strong hands tried to steady the redhead just as her vision began to grow dark.

"Ms. Calendar..." Willow managed to mumble before unconsciousness stole her voice. For the first time in her unnaturally long life, Willow fainted from something other than blood loss.
 

~Chapter Two~

Angel's eyes never strayed from Willow's sleeping face as he silently paced in front of the sofa where she was lying.  He had thought that this day would never arrive and had sometimes hoped that it never would.  The girl lying before him wasn't simply Willow anymore--the girl he'd befriended upon his arrival in Sunnydale two years earlier.  The woman lying before him was Rose--the woman that had changed the course of his life for eternity.

Finding no solace in his nearly frantic movements, Angel finally came to a standstill at the head of the couch.  With deliberate slowness, Angel lowered himself to his knees, clasping his hands next to Willow's face.  Still watching closely for any sign that she was coming around, Angel rested his chin on his hands.  Although the vampire took great comfort in being able to feel her warm, even breath on his own cool cheek, after waiting for more than a century to be face-to-face with Rose again, he was impatient for the redhead to wake up.  Not only did he have an endless stream of questions flowing through his mind, including the usual How's and Why's, but he also wanted--no *needed*--to know the whole the truth behind the spell that had brought her to the 18th century in the first place, not to mention Spike and the curse.  What Angel needed to know the most, however, was where the truth stopped and the lies began.

Oh yeah, he had a lot of questions, but he also had much that he needed to say to her as well.

But for now, the vampire with a soul had to be content simply with the knowledge that everything had actually happened after all.  Rose hadn't been a figment of his guilt-ridden imagination nor was Willow's resemblance to Rose simply a fluke of nature or an ironic punishment by the powers that be.  Willow and Rose were one in the same.

As he waited, Angel studied her, looking for any evidence that he might be wrong by visually tracing every familiar line and curve of her delicate features.  As hard as he tried, he couldn't find any notable differences between this Willow and the Willow that he'd watched try to hack into the Sunnydale Police Department's record system a few days earlier.  Everything was the same...the hair, the skin, even the clothes.  There was only one difference he could detect.  This Willow--the one that he'd known as Rose--wore the nearly invisible scars of his bite marks, and Spike's, on her throat.  Tempted as he was to brush her long hair aside to look for any other scars, Angel somehow managed to keep his restless hands to himself.

As Angel waited, he had a flashback to an all-too-familiar scene.  He saw himself kneeling by the unconscious Rose as she lay on his bed more than a century ago.  That night he'd also been impatient for her to wake up so she could answer a myriad of questions, centering around how she appeared unchanged more than 50 years after he'd been made a vampire.  Even now, Angel had little trouble recalling the emotions he'd experienced at the sight of her all those years ago.  The anger, excitement, and confusion had surged together, causing him to uncharacteristically lose his self-control, culminating in a savage bite.

The memories drove Angel to his feet and backing away from the sleeping redhead.  "Guess this just goes to prove that history does repeat itself," the vampire mumbled, running a shaky hand through his already-disheveled hair.

Angry that he hadn't been better prepared for this day--a day for which he'd been preparing for decades--he turned to focus his ire on the only other person in the room.

"You should have told me," Angel said hotly.

Jenny Calendar stuck her head around a short row of bookcases that served to divide one small section of the large room.  "I couldn't, Angel.  I couldn't do anything that might jeopardize the spell being completed."

He shot the dark-haired teacher a withering look.  "And how could confirming that Willow and Rose were the same person jeopardize the spell?  How could telling me that the spell was to end today put it in jeopardy?"

"It's more complicated than that, Angel."

Angel slowly shook his head as he advanced on the table where she was sitting, studying The Writings.  "All this time, Jenny.  All this time you've known that on this day the Willow that had gone back in time would return, and you said nothing to me. You never even told me you knew about it until tonight!  But you knew it from the moment you came to Sunnydale, didn't you?"

Jenny carefully closed the book and turned to face the angry vampire.  "Yes, I did.  That's why I'm here, Angel.  My people sent me to insure that the spell was completed and to be the keeper of The Writings."

Glancing back at the unconscious redhead, Angel dismissed Jenny's excuses with a wave of his hand.  He was in no mood to listen to some Rom rhetoric, yet the teacher continued anyway.

"I was not allowed to discuss it, Angel.  Especially not with you."

At her words, Angel's head came sharply around.  He glared at the woman whom he felt had betrayed him.  Not only hadn't she told him about what was going on with Willow, she'd never let on that she was Rom either.  She hadn't admitted to being a Gypsy until he'd confronted her about it on the way back from the park earlier that night.  What else didn't he know?

Angel closed his eyes momentarily, swallowing his anger and mistrust for the time being.  It wasn't going to get him the answers he craved.  When he felt back in control and more himself again, he opened his eyes and took the seat across from Jenny.  However, he couldn't bring himself to look at her as he spoke.

"You must have known how confused I was when I came to Sunnydale to help the Slayer only to find Rose...or a girl that looked like her," he began in a carefully measured voice.  "But she didn't remember me.  I told myself that Willow was my Rose and that I'd just have to be patient, that suddenly one day she'd remember.  So I waited, always hoping and trying to jar her memory simply with my presence, but there was never even a flicker of recognition in her eyes.  Do you have *any* idea how hard that was?"  He didn't expect the woman to answer nor did he give her a chance to.  "After two years, I'd started to give up.  I told myself that it had never happened."  He finally looked Jenny in the face.  "I had even begun to hope that none of it had happened so that Willow might never remember the horrible things I'd done..."  Angel sighed, the forced expulsion of breath only slightly reducing his simmering anger.  "The least you could have done was warn me that tonight the spell was to be complete, but I guess that was breaking some Gypsy code of secrecy, wasn't it?"

Jenny flinched, having never been on the receiving end of Angel's anger before, let alone ever seeing this much bitterness in him at all; it left her feeling chilled to the bone.  She regretted never being able to tell him the truth, not only about Willow and the spell, but also about her own reasons for coming to Sunnydale.  The teacher was surprised, to say the least, when he'd figured out that she was Rom earlier that night simply from her comment to Willow in the park.  Yet, there was so much more he didn't know, and not only about her, but about Willow as well.

"Angel, try to understand," Jenny said in soothing tones.  "The Writings only said that today was the day that the spell would be completed and she'd arrive back in her own time.  I had no way of knowing what state of mind she'd be in.  Even The Writings were unclear as to whether she would remember everything that had happened to her in the past.  Remember, she's been through a lot, and--"

"Don't you think I know that?" Angel growled.  "I'm the one who put her through hell for a century, as you very well know."

"I don't think you can take all the blame for that, Angel.  Don't forget about Spike."

Jenny didn't think it would have been possible for the vampire's face to become any darker and tighter, but it did at the mention of his childe's name.

Angel's gaze fell to his clasped hands, settling on the silver ring he still wore.  He twisted it a few times before speaking.  "He's back, too."  It was more a statement than a question.

"Yes."

When he was again in control of his baser emotions, Angel looked up and met the Gypsy's dark eyes.  "Tell me how it happened...how this Willow came back.  Tell me everything you saw, Jenny."

Jenny glanced back down at the old book before pushing back from the table.  Her hands still gripping its smooth wooden edge, she took a deep breath as she considered just how to put the night's strange events into words.

"The Writings said that they'd arrive back tonight, sometime after midnight, at the mansion on Crawford Street.  Willow, Giles, and I went--"

"Wait," Angel interrupted, sitting up straighter.  "You took Willow to the mansion?  And Giles knew about this too?"

She climbed wearily to her feet, moving closer to the couch where the girl was sleeping.  "No," Jenny said, emphatically shaking her head.  "He knew nothing until last night.  But I needed his help, so I told him just enough to do what we had to do.  Trust me, Rupert isn't happy with me either.  I'll be answering a million questions in the morning..."

"What about Willow...*our* Willow?"  Angel groaned in frustration.  "What about the Willow we've known for the past two years?"

Jenny rubbed her throbbing temples as she turned to look at the girl sleeping on the couch.  How was she to explain something that she didn't understand herself?

"Willow knew nothing about the spell until yesterday.  Yesterday I told her as much as I dared to because I thought it would be better if she came to the mansion with me.  As you can imagine, Willow was shocked, to say the least.  But yet she seemed to understand...somehow."

Angel's eyes closed as he leaned his head back.  Headaches were a rarity for the souled vampire but he could feel a doozy of one kicking in.

Jenny continued.  "The three of us went to the mansion around midnight, which was uncharacteristically deserted, I might add.  You would have been very proud of Willow.  She was very brave."

Angel made no comment.  No one had to tell him how brave Willow could be, but he was upset for not being given the opportunity to be there to help the 17-year-girl through what must have been a terrifying ordeal.

"We stood there in the main room of the mansion, waiting for something to happen, although none of us were quite sure what.  All of the sudden the air started to crackle.  You could feel it on your skin.  Then there was this...*wave* of energy that flowed outward from one spot in the room.  For a moment it was as if everything moved in slow motion, almost liquid like.  Then there was a spectacular flash and..."  Jenny trailed off, unable to put into words exactly what had happened.  "One moment Willow was standing next to me, holding my hand, and the next moment she and Spike were lying together on the floor in the same spot where the wave phenomenon had started.  But she was wearing traditional Rom clothes and Spike was in period clothing as well.  I can't explain exactly what happened because I don't understand it myself.  Remember, as it is, this goes against science.  I can't explain it any better."

At the completion of her story, Jenny anxiously waited for Angel to say something--anything.  But he didn't.  The vampire remained not only silent but motionless as well, simply staring at one spot on the table.  She was actually relieved when he suddenly stood up, yet his line of vision remained firmly glued to the table where his fingernails began tapping on the polished wood in no particular rhythm.

"Together?" he finally asked, his eyes darting to meet Jenny's for only a split second before they settled back on the table.

"Um, Spike and Willow were holding hands, if that's what you mean.  But from what I can tell from The Writings, it was necessary for them to be touching for the spell to work," she quickly added.

Angel simply grunted, unwilling to share his true thoughts on the subject of Willow and Spike at the moment.  "Then what happened?" he asked, finally ending his impromptu percussion performance by jamming his hands in his pockets.

"Rupert and I got her out of there.  We had no idea if Drusilla was around waiting for Spike, and we really thought that Willow wasn't going to remember what had happened, as The Writings suggested.  We didn't want Willow to be shocked or confused so we rushed her home where I got her out of her Rom clothes and tucked her into bed.  As far as I knew, she'd wake up in the morning the same old Willow that we've both known for two years, but perhaps talking about the whole experience as if it were an odd dream."

Cautiously, Angel left the table and went to stand by Jenny.  Together, they peered over the back of the sofa at the motionless girl.  She looked so serene and at peace now, but Angel's stomach wrenched at the thought of the same sweet face being twisted in fear only hours earlier.

<I should have been there.>

The dark vampire's fingers dug into the brown leather sofa, leaving tiny crescent moon indentations behind as he imagined what she'd gone through.  "You should have told me, Jenny.  Willow must have been terrified.  I could have helped her understand.  I could have told her what--"

"Told her what, Angel?"  Jenny demanded curtly.  "Told her all about things that happened to Rose, yet not to her, and all about memories she'd never have?"

"But she does remember, Jenny!  You heard what she said to me in the park tonight.  She thought I was Angelus without a soul.  She remembered!"

"You don't know how much she remembers.  Who knows, when she wakes up, she might not remember anything.  After all, The Writings were very clear.  She wasn't supposed to recall anything at all."

Angel clenched his jaw, trying unsuccessfully to swallow his words.  "You were wrong and so were The Writings.  I'm starting to think that they weren't worth the paper they were written on."

Jenny took a deep breath to calm herself.  There was still so much they didn't know, and she was as anxious for Willow to wake up as Angel was.

She put her hand on the vampire's arm, hoping to console him.  "Prophecies are never infallible, no matter where they come from, Angel."

"I don't give a damn!" Angel hissed, wrenching his arm away from the Gypsy.  "You should have at least told me once you knew that *she* was back.  Did you see the look on her face in the cemetery tonight?  I thought she was just becoming a good actress, but she was really afraid of me.  Damn it, Jenny!  Do you have any idea the things I'd promised to do to her--to Rose--before I was cursed?"

Jenny didn't know but she could imagine from what she'd heard about Angelus, the Scourge of Europe.  "It will be okay, Angel.  Everything will work out the way it should."

"Did your precious Writings tell you that?"  Angel retorted acridly.

Jenny sighed.  "Think I'll go make a pot of tea.  Looks like you could use it, Angel."

"I don't want tea," he growled.

"Well, you better do something to calm down," Jenny informed the vampire in the most motherly tone she could manage.  "If Willow wakes up and does remember everything, and then she sees you this upset, you might have a little trouble convincing her that you're still cursed."

Angel ran a tired hand down his face, as if hoping to wipe away some of the bitterness he was feeling.  He forced himself to take a few deep breaths before speaking.

"What did you tell the others?" Angel asked in a calmer voice.

"I simply told Buffy and the other kids that Willow'd been ill.  I chalked it up to fever-induced hallucinations.  They were worried about her but I think they bought that.  Rupert, on the other hand, expects a full explanation tomorrow."  Her face fell.  "I don't know if he's going to forgive me for keeping this from him all this time."

"He really knew nothing about the spell?"

Jenny shook her head.  "He only knows what I told him tonight.  That something important was happening, according to The Writings, and it concerned Willow.  Of course, he wasn't very happy that I wouldn't explain further, but he trusted me.  And then when our Willow disappeared, only to be replaced with this one along with Spike, you can imagine he was a little curious.  He is The Watcher, after all.  He thinks nothing supernatural should take place in Sunnydale without his stamp of approval."

"But why is she still unconscious?" Angel asked, resuming his expectant father-like pacing.

Jenny shrugged.  "She's been through a lot.  I'm surprised she woke up so soon in the first place.  I half-expected her to sleep for a few days."

"You know, considering what you are, you don't have many answers, do you?" There was still a coldness to his voice, but the anger had dissipated.

With a shake of her head, Jenny headed for the hallway at the back of the room.

"Jenny..." Angel called after her in a softer tone.  "I--I'm...it's the waiting.  It's getting to me."

"Penance is never easy, Angel," she said without turning around.  "You should know that by now."

Angel looked around the room before responding.  "Yeah, you'd think I would," Angel chuckled wryly.

Jenny stopped in the doorway and looked back at the vampire.  "And you may want to consider changing out of those clothes before she wakes up, Angel.  They seemed to bother her quite a bit."

Angel glanced down at his leather pants then nodded in agreement.

"Besides..." Jenny added over her shoulder as the vampire began to follow her down the hallway.  "That belt is really, really hideous."
 

~Chapter Three~

When she could no longer hear their voices or their footsteps, Willow finally opened her eyes.

She'd come to wakefulness slowly, for a change.  The voices had come to her first, interrupting the quiet dreamless sleep that blanketed her.  Before she could manage to open her eyes, the sound of Angel's raised voice permeated the drowsy fog, and she automatically began to regulate her breathing.  She wasn't really sure of where or even when she was, but she was sure that the conversation going on around her was one she wanted to hear.  Keeping her eyes closed and her breathing and pulse even, Willow listened with sickly fascination to Jenny and Angel's discussion.  While some of it was confusing to the redhead, the conversation was a wealth of information.  Angel--if that's who he really was, she reminded herself--had apparently never revealed their shared past to anyone.  Even to the 'other Willow'.  And the redhead was barely able to keep from groaning aloud in confusion at the thought of the Willow that had taken her place in this new timeline.

Time travel was certainly more perplexing than she'd ever imagined, and as she finally sat up and took a look at her surroundings, the confusion magnified.

The room she found herself in wasn't at all familiar to her.  At first she thought it was a library and that perhaps Sunnydale High had finally invested some money back into the school in an area other than sports.  After all, the only thing she could see from where she sat was a large, full book case, a comfortable looking, leather winged-back chair, and a couple of library-like tables, surrounded by library-like chairs.

Yep, it was definitely a library, she'd decided.  At least until she stood up and had a look around.  That's when her mouth fell open.  If it actually were a library, it would have to be a private one.

The room was even larger than she'd thought, several times larger than the high school's library, and the high, sloped wood and beam ceilings did nothing to reduce the openness of the room.  Huge sturdy bookcases dotted the worn wooden floor, interspersed with groupings of more comfortable chairs, sofas and the occasional table.  Lamps rested upon each table, no two alike.  In one far corner, a good-sized TV and stereo occupied some space, surrounded yet again by plenty of seating choices.  Against a different wall, several computers, complete with scanners and printers, awaited instructions.

To Willow it was heaven, or at least it would have been about 140 years earlier.  But at this particular moment, she found it terrifying.

She took a few shaky steps away from the sofa to peer around the book case that was partially blocking her view of the other side of the room, and that's when she realized where she was, or at least the significance of the building itself.  A streetlight outside illuminated one of the many tall windows that wrapped around both long sides of the building, bringing the colored glass to life.

They were stained-glass windows.  Her eyes darted to what she assumed was the front of the building, and there it was.  A small raised area, a dais, which now hosted another seating arrangement.  At the other end of the room, large double doors sat open, revealing the lobby-like narthex and another pair of closed doors which, she assumed, led to the outside.

There was no doubt about it now.  She was in a church...or at least it had been a church in its former life.  Now it more resembled a place of learning than a place of worship, albeit a comfortable place of learning.  Chairs and sofas replaced the pews, reference books were substituted for the hymnals, and tables took the place of altars.

With a trembling hand, Willow silently slid a book off of the nearest shelf and glanced at its title--'Dictionary of Gods and Goddesses, Devils and Demons,' by M. Jurker.  She frowned, remembering the book from Giles' collection at the school library and wondered why it was in this place.  She reshelved that one before grabbing another, more expensive looking volume--'Aetia, Iambi, Hecale and other Fragments,' by Callimachus.  Translated by C.A. Trypanis.  Her frown deepened with the unfamiliar title.

Willow was still perusing the odd collection of books when she actually 'felt' Angel enter the room.  She turned around in time to see him ambling in her general direction.  Much to her relief, the vampire was now wearing dark pants--non-leather--and buttoning an equally dark shirt.  <He looks like Angel,> Willow thought to herself.  Angel was so focused on the sofa that she'd just been lying on that he didn't notice her standing by the bookshelf across from it.  Willow thought she detected a hint of panic in his eyes when he saw the empty couch, but an instant later, he noticed her.  When their eyes met, he stopped where he was, hands frozen, his shirt still only half-buttoned.  They stared at each other, neither quite sure what to say.

"You're awake?" Angel finally said.  He was aware that he was stating the obvious, but someone had to talk first, no matter how ludicrous the words.

Willow guiltily looked down at the book in her hands and quickly returned it to its rightful place.  "Um, I think I'll just have to trust you on that or pinch myself a few hundred times."

There was a long pause again and Willow found herself doing a few deep-breathing exercises just to keep from fidgeting like a child in church.  At the same time, she tried her best to look the vampire in the eye.  From the look on Willow's face, Angel had no doubt that she remembered everything that had happened during her trip back in time.

Angel shoved his hands in his pockets and tried again.  "You must have a lot of questions."

Willow nodded sheepishly.  "You probably have a few yourself."

With a soft grunt, Angel forced himself to move forward a few steps, even though his feet felt like lead.  He was relieved when Willow didn't back away from him this time, but the way her eyes widened, he knew her first thoughts were to flee.  He didn't blame her.

"One or two...hundred," he admitted with a slight smile, hoping to allay her fears somewhat.  "But ladies first."

Willow was concentrating so hard on not looking away from Angel, trying to ignore the persistent voice within her that insisted that running away would be a good thing, that it took her a moment to realize what the vampire had actually said.

"Oh!  Um, well, you and Ms. Calendar answered some of them already."

"You were awake?  You heard what we were saying?"

Willow could only nod again, but Angel noted that she at least had the courtesy to look a little guilty for eavesdropping on them.

"Some of it, anyway," she admitted.  "When I woke up you were kinda yelling at Ms. Calendar for not telling you what was going on...I heard about how I got here...and Ms. Calendar's opinion of your fashion sense."

"I kind of liked the belt, myself.  I thought it made me look..."  Angel's words trailed off as he stopped his forced lightness, much to both their relief.  He glanced at his shoes for a moment, wondering where his ability to make conversation had disappeared to, before looking the redhead in the eye once again.  "We should talk."

"And sit," she agreed.  "Sitting is good when you talk."  Willow took a seat in the leather chair and curled her legs up beneath her.  Angel sat on the sofa across from her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his fingers and thumbs forming a familiar triangle.

They sat there in silence, both glancing from their twiddling fingers to the other's face every now and then.  Angel cursed himself silently.  After all, he'd only thought about this meeting a million times over the last century, yet now he was at a complete loss for words.  All of his perfectly prepared eloquent speeches had fled him earlier that night when she'd called him 'Angelus'.

"So..." he started.

"So, you're Angel now?" Willow interrupted, cutting to the chase.

The vampire sat up a little straighter.  Maybe he couldn't remember his witty monologues, but he was quite capable of answering questions.  "I've gone by Angel for a while now."

Willow nodded yet again, and the uncomfortable silence continued for a few more minutes.

"And you have your soul?"

"I've had my soul ever since that night in Romania when I was cursed with it."

Willow shifted in her seat until she was sitting quite straight and proper, her feet on the floor. "You, um, never got happy, lost your soul again, and went on a people-and-fish-killing spree?"

Angel's lips curled slightly at the question.  "I've killed a few fish in my time but I wouldn't exactly call it a spree.  There was a parakeet too.  I don't seem to do well with pets."  Angel's uneasy grin faded when Willow didn't smile at his attempted humor.

Willow rose from the wide chair that suddenly felt too confining.  As she looked about the unfamiliar room, she thought it all seemed a little too easy.  She turned back and wagged an accusatory finger at the vampire.

"But...you chased me through the park...and that girl!  She'd been bitten and was bleeding, and..."  Willow stopped.  Before she could finish her allegation she already knew the answer.  It had been obvious even then but she'd been too panicked to see it.  "It was that other vampire, the one who ran by me, that was the one who hurt her, wasn't it?  You were just helping her."

Angel nodded, thankful that she'd figured out the truth on her own.  "She was just a little disoriented.  He'd hardly bitten her when I came across them but she felt the need to thank me..."

"It all makes perfect sense," she admitted almost reluctantly.  "I don't think I can remember the last time something made perfect sense."  Her eyes widened.  "But-but you said that you'd been waiting there *forever* for me.  Ah ha!  Explain that one!"

Angel's expression darkened slightly and he rose slowly to his feet.  "You were late, Willow.  We were all supposed to meet there."

Willow cocked her head to the side and watched him through narrowed eyes as she considered his words.  It was fairly believable that they'd all meet there.  After all, Buffy had been there too, and the others as well.  Not to mention the fact that they'd all basically said he was Angel and hadn't appeared even slightly afraid of him.  Yet, there'd been too many games played at her expense over Willow's long lifetime, and the redhead wasn't quite ready to celebrate her victory.

Aware that Angelus would have an answer for anything and everything, Willow knew there was only one way to be sure.  She approached him cautiously, studying him from head to toe as she drew nearer.

At first Angel nearly smiled as he found himself being sized up by the petite redhead, but as her intense scrutiny continued, the vampire became uncomfortable.  He didn't know how to give her the assurance that she so obviously needed.  By the time Willow came to a stop before him, the vampire felt like he should drop down on both knees and beg for her forgiveness and understanding, but he didn't.  Angel simply returned her burning gaze, inviting her to do whatever she felt necessary to be sure of who he was.

Willow peered as deeply into his sable eyes as she could, the whole time fighting a nearly overwhelming urge to get as far away from him as she could.  Yet she remained mere inches away from the looming vampire, ignoring the tremors that his nearness sent coursing through her body.

She knew it was silly.  She knew it was doubtful that she could really tell if he had his soul simply by looking into his eyes, but she had to try.  Willow was almost disappointed when she didn't see a neon sign somewhere in their depths, flashing 'Soul in Use'.  She frowned, ready to give up that particular line of silent questioning, when she finally saw him--Angel.  Angelus's coldness was gone, as was the usual mocking superiority.  For the first time ever, his fathomless eyes hid nothing from her.  It was all laid out for Willow to see and with such clarity that her own eyes stung in response.  Pain, guilt, shame--emotions she'd never seen in Angelus's eyes--and still there was more.  She found anger, relief, doubt, even gladness at her presence and at least a dozen other emotions she couldn't quite put her finger on, all swirling about in his dark orbs.  He was obviously as confused as she was, torn between being happy to see her and an intense hunger for answers.  Willow had never seen such a myriad of emotions in the soulless Angelus, even when he'd tried to fake it.  Her last shreds of doubt drifted away.

"It is you, Angel..." she whispered.  Before Angel could express his relief, Willow launched herself at him.  The redhead unabashedly hugged the vampire, and when Angel's arms immediately returned her embrace, her tears began to fall.

"Yes, Willow.  It's me...soul and all."

As caught off guard as he was by Willow's embrace, Angel's response was still immediate.  He pulled her even closer, cradling her head against his chest, savoring the moment that he'd waited for, for so long.  All he could think about was that Rose was back, and while it was early days yet, she wasn't afraid of him.  One of his nagging fears had always been that she'd forever be repulsed by him once her memories returned and she truly knew what he was capable of.  But at that moment, all his fears began to drift away as he held her once again.

Willow's eyes fluttered shut and a sigh escaped her lips at the feeling of Angel's fingers running through her hair.  She was flooded with a warming sense of relief at his cool, gentle touch.

But the moment of contentment was short lived.  Without meaning to, Willow recalled how Angelus had held her like this only once before when he was still alive.  In spite of all the turmoil at that time, Willow had felt strangely safe and at home in his arms.  As the familiar feelings began to well up within her, thoughts of Buffy and Oz quickly followed, and the moment was shattered.  As a wave of guilt washed away the warm happy feeling, she stiffened and pulled out of his arms.

"Sorry, Angel," she sniffled as he reluctantly let her go.  "It's just a relief to know that you're really what you say you are and not Angelus.  I just wasn't sure, and after everything that has happened...."

Angel took a step back as well.  Already missing the feeling of her heart beating against his chest, he finally thought to finish buttoning his shirt.

"No need to be sorry, Willow.  It's understandable, and I should be the one to apologize."

Willow wiped her remaining tears away with the back of her hand.  "For what?"

"Everything."

Willow watched as Angel's grin rapidly melted into a more familiar dour look.  "No, you don't have to do that."

Angel tilted his head to the side, wondering if he'd heard her right.  "You don't think I need to apologize for what I did to you--for what I promised to do to you the next time we met?"

Willow hesitated in answering.  A tiny voice inside of her was demanding that the vampire be made to beg for her mercy and to suffer at least some small portion of the anguish that she'd had to endure at his hands.  But it was a very small part, easily drowned out by the larger, louder portion that was caterwauling for Willow to move on with her life and pretend the whole thing never happened.

Giving in to the nearly overwhelming need for normalcy in her life, Willow threw her arms out at her sides.  "I don't know, Angel.  On the one hand, you did terrify me, gave me years of nightmares that I still can't forget, and not to mention all the cruel words...and well, you know...the biting..."

Angel winced but didn't look away.

"But on the other hand," Willow added, "considering who and what you were, I think you were probably on your best behavior with me.  I mean, as bad as it was, it could have been so much worse, right?"  Willow realized she probably sounded a bit trite, but she was trying to keep the mood lighthearted, having decided that it would be best for all parties concerned if they both simply put it all behind them once all the explanations were over.  After all, if Angel started to act weird and even more broody than usual every time they were near each other, it would make things difficult, not to mention uncomfortable.  She also didn't want it to affect her relationship with Buffy.

"Much, much worse," Angel replied somberly.  "But that doesn't mean that you don't deserve an apology."

"Maybe we should save the apologies for after we get everything out in the open.  I still have a lot of questions, Angel," .she informed him as she looked about their surroundings again.  "And I know you do as well.  Maybe when we're done spilling our guts, figuratively speaking, we can take turns apologizing to each other."

"You're going to apologize to me?"

"Maybe for some things..." she said softly, and then added more forcefully, "But I won't apologize for what happened to you, Angelus--I mean, Angel," she corrected herself with an embarrassed rolling of her eyes.  "I'm not sorry you have your soul, even if the idea to give it back to you wasn't originally ours in the first place."

"I don't expect you to apologize, Willow."

"Good.  Because I won't."

Angel smiled at her familiar stubbornness just as Jenny walked in, holding a tray laden with the usual tea supplies.  She stopped at the sight of the Willow and Angel talking.

"You're awake, Willow."

Willow turned to look at Jenny and wished she hadn't.  The redhead was positive that she had an odd look on her face as she stared at her supposed-to-be-dead computer teacher.

"So Angel tells me," the redhead said, more than a little awkwardly as Jenny set the tea service on the nearest table.  "But I'm still waiting for a camel to walk by and Luke Skywalker to break down the door, light saber at the ready."

Angel chuckled.  "No doubt about it.  She's Willow."

Smiling, Jenny gave her student a hug.  "How do you feel, Willow?"

"Confused...tired...embarrassed for fainting like that...but I'm thinking confusion is pretty much the emotion of the day."

"That's understandable, considering everything Spike put you through," Jenny reminded her.

Ignoring the Spike gibe, Willow glanced around the converted church.  "I guess I never thought this day would come and now that it has, I'm a little...lost."

"Things are different then?" Angel blurted out, unable to bridle his curiosity any longer.

Unconsciously, Willow's eyes darted to Jenny.  Then, trying to cover up what she figured was probably a huge time travel faux pas, Willow forced herself to look about the room again.

"You could say that...in fact, you could say that a hundred times, and I don't think it would quite cover it."

Jenny quickly poured the chamomile tea, handing both Angel and Willow a steaming cupful.  "What do you remember, Willow?"

"I remember everything.  I remember the whole 'back in time' episode, and everything that happened before that.

"What about the last couple of years?" Angel questioned, trying unsuccessfully to keep the anxiousness out of his voice.

Willow was confused by the question.  "Sure," she said after a gulp of the warm brew, "the last two years I was with Spike and the Rom--"

"No, Willow," Jenny interrupted.  "What about the last two years here with us in Sunnydale?"

"Of course I remem..."  Willow stopped, finally realizing that everything she recalled of her last two years in Sunnydale was obviously no longer accurate.  After all, Jenny had died and Angel...well, he hadn't been the souled Angel, had he?  She set the teacup down with shaking hands.  "I--I guess I don't remember everything because not only do I not have the slightest idea where I am, but neither of you would be here..."  She looked at her teacher and had to quickly look away again.  How do you tell someone that they are supposed to be dead or burning in hell?

Seeing the young woman's distress, the teacher tried to ease her discomfort.  "It's alright Willow.  Your reaction to me in the park confirmed something I had suspected for sometime now.  In your past, I'd died, hadn't I?"

Willow bit her lip as she nodded her head.

Jenny squeezed her hand reassuringly.  "It's okay, Willow.  We can talk about that later if you want.  But I would imagine that you must have a million questions.  I know I do, but I think it's only fair that you go first."

She led Willow to the couch and sat beside her.  Angel took a seat on the arm of the chair across from them.

"So, Willow, where do you want to start?" the dark-haired woman asked.

Willow was acutely aware that Jenny and Angel were scrutinizing her, trying to figure out how she'd changed, and if she was still Willow.  <That's a good question.> Jenny was right, a million questions were bouncing around in Willow's head, screaming for resolution, but she knew that until she told them what they needed to know they would continue to stare at her like she was some sort of science experiment gone awry.

"It's okay.  You two go first.  Fire away."  Willow hoped that she sounded excited, but in truth she was terrified.

Jenny and Angel looked at each other in mild surprise.

"Alright, Willow," Jenny began.  "Why don't I just tell you what I know first, then you can fill in the blanks, okay?"  Willow nodded and the Gypsy continued.  "This is going to be confusing no matter how we do it..."  She took a deep breath.  "What I know, Willow, is that Spike found a spell that took you both back in time.  The spell had a side-effect that made you temporarily immortal, and--"

"Wait, "Willow interrupted.  "How do you even know that much?"

Jenny rose and walked to the table where she'd been sitting before.  She grabbed the large, leather-bound book that she and Angel had argued about and handed it to Willow.  "I have your journals, Willow, or as they are now called, 'The Writings'.  The entries that you made throughout your travels have been passed down from generation to generation of Rom.  It's very obvious, though, that they aren't complete.  It had been decided long ago that no one should know too much about the future, so the Elders edited it heavily, leaving only hints and sketches as to the events of both your travels in the past as well as your life in Sunnydale before Spike kidnapped you.  From the way The Writings were edited, as well as a few other statements, I had even suspected that Angelus had killed me, even though that too must have been deleted from your writings long ago."

With shaking hands, Willow lifted the well-worn cover.  She knew instantly that the book she held wasn't one of the many tomes that she'd actually written in for all those years.  When she reverently studied the yellowing pages, she was surprised to find that it was not in her handwriting, nor was it even in English.  Although she had learned to read, speak, and write the language of the Rom during her many years with them, she had always written in English for the privacy that it afforded her.  Willow looked at Jenny questioningly.

"Your original and complete journals are kept in our people's safe place, guarded by many wards and spells of protection.  This is just one of the translations.  I should probably explain that I am its Keeper.  It is, or was, my responsibility to see to it that the prophecies therein were heeded."

"Prophecies?  You used my journals, the pages and pages I wrote about my life here in Sunnydale, as prophecies?"

Before Jenny could respond, Angel spoke up.  "The Writings are by Willow?  The prophecies that have helped us to defeat the Master, destroy Acathla, and everything else were written by Willow?  She was the mysterious, all-knowing prophet?"

"Yes," Jenny said in answer to both of their questions.  "Because she traveled back in time, Willow was able to prophesize her own future, in a sense."

Angel was speechless.  All this time, The Writings were nothing more that Willow's diary.  Yet, they had become invaluable in their fight against the darker forces that existed in abundance in Sunnydale.  Now it all made a perfect twisted kind of sense, and he was ashamed that he hadn't figured it all out earlier.

Willow shook her head in amazement, not trying to stop the tears of relief that were trickling down her cheeks.  "It worked," she smiled at the others.  "It actually worked.  I mean, everything happened so...so fast in the end that I hadn't prepared the way I should have.  I--I had written everything down once and had given it to the Watchers Council in London.  I had hoped that they would use it to help Buffy in case things didn't work out right...."

She closed her eyes and hugged the book tightly to her chest.  "I never thought of leaving the responsibility to the Rom instead of the Council.  Tekla is...was...an amazing woman."

"Yes, she was."

Willow took a deep breath, readying herself to go on, when an embarrassing thought occurred to her.  She looked at Jenny, hoping she could keep from blushing.

"Jenny, who else has read my journals...the original ones?"

Sensing the source of Willow's discomfort, Jenny squeezed her hand.  "Don't worry, Willow.  Even *I* haven't read your journals.  No one has in more than a century, as far as I know.  They are forbidden.  And The Writings are *completely* lacking in the personal thoughts department.  All of your secrets, if you had any, that is, are still secret."

Willow let out a long sigh of relief.  She didn't know how she'd be able to face her friends, let alone Angel, if they were to have read her most private thoughts and the more intimate details of her time in the past.  The mere idea of the possibility made it nearly impossible for her to look at Angel for the next few minutes.

"Can I go on, Willow?" Jenny asked, gesturing to the book.

Willow handed it to her with a nod.

"Let's see...as I was saying," the teacher said, skimming quickly through its pages.  "Spike took you back in time to seek revenge on Angel for the death-suicide of his lover Drusilla.  Like I said, the details are sketchy, but I do know that you arrived in Galway around the time that Angelus was sired by Darla.  *But* if I understand this correctly, Spike had wanted to arrive closer to the time that Drusilla was actually sired in the mid-1800s so he could kill Angelus afterwards, but you somehow affected the spell, causing it to take you back to when Angel was human instead, correct?"

Willow simply nodded before sneaking a peek at Angel.  From the pained expression he was wearing, Willow had no doubt that the vampire was hearing it all for the first time.  Now the redhead felt the need to go into details--not for the Gypsy, but for Angel's sake.

"I just couldn't let Spike kill him because I knew we needed him here.  I was worried about Buffy...and so when he told me to concentrate on a date close to Drusilla's being vamped, I...well, I kinda cheated.  I didn't know if it would work.  We were lucky, I guess."

To Willow's surprise, Jenny jotted down a few notes in the margins of the book.  Then, oblivious to the effect her words were having on the vampire, Jenny continued.

"Now, in Galway, you and Spike reached a compromise of sorts, yes?"

Willow took a deep breath.  "Yes.  I agreed to stay in the past for another 50 or so years until the time of Spike's own turning *if* Spike would let Angelus live.  The plan was for me to keep Angelus busy so that when Darla came to town they would never meet.  Then, when she was gone, Spike and I would lay low for a while and he'd either sire himself or get Darla to do it, or something."  Willow shrugged a little sheepishly.  "We hadn't really figured that part out yet."

Willow quickly glanced at Angel and found him watching her, but his face was expressionless.  She gave him a small smile, trying to somehow reassure the vampire.  Without acknowledging her attempt, Angel got to his feet and moved to stare out the window.

"And he agreed to this?" Jenny asked.

Willow sighed, her eyes now fixed on the back of the dark vampire.  "Yes...but he lied to me.  He never had any intention of letting the human Angelus live.  By the time I figured it out, it was too late."

Angel let out a soft half-grunt, half-laugh.  "He betrayed you too, then?"

"Yes, but that was a long time ago, Angel.  He didn't know any other way to get back the Drusilla he loved without you siring her.  Spike was consumed by his need to be with Drusilla again."

Angel made no comment as Willow tried to explain his childe's actions.  He continued to stare unseeing through the colored glass.

"What did you do then?" Jenny questioned the redhead.  "The journals say that you traveled on your own for a while."

"I ran away from Spike.  He tried to explain to me why he'd done it, but I wouldn't listen.  For almost fifty years I traveled throughout Britain, avoiding Angelus and Spike, and trying to find a way to fix the mess I had created.  I felt...responsible for Angelus's death.  I felt like I had let everyone down.  For fifty years I searched everywhere, either for a way to end the spell or for the Rom curse so I could recurse Angelus myself, but I failed at that too..."  Remembering that painful time brought Willow to her feet.  She hugged her arms about herself and took a few aimless steps toward the center of the room, away from Jenny and Angel.

Choosing to ignore the increased tension in the room, Jenny pressed on.  "From now on, the details get even fewer and farther between, Willow.  It says you eventually ended up back in London, where you accidentally ran into Spike again."

"Yes..."

"Then what happened?"

Having heard enough, Angel turned on the teacher.  "Don't you think you've put her through enough for one night?" he demanded.

"It's okay, Angel," Willow said without turning around.  "Yes, Spike and I ran into each other.  It wasn't pleasant at first...I was so bitter...but in the end it all worked itself out.  Spike became injured and I helped him.  That same night, I stupidly walked through the park and was attacked by a couple of vampires..."  Willow turned and looked squarely at Angel.  "I was bitten, very badly...but somehow I managed to escape and make it back to where Spike was staying.  He...helped me."

"You trusted him?"

"I had to, Jenny," Willow answered, but her words were more for Angel now.  "In a manner of speaking, Spike *saved* me in more ways than one.  After that, we were friends.  I trusted him completely."

"You were...friends?" Jenny repeated, not quite sure she'd heard Willow right.

Willow tore her eyes away from Angel long enough to answer Jenny.  "Yes, Spike and I were friends.  And although we've had our ups and downs, we still are."

For just a moment, Jenny's mouth fell open, but she quickly composed herself.  Angel managed to resist the urge to put his fist through the window, but he was far from composed when Jenny insisted on extending their torture.

"The Writings simply state at some point in the early 1800s that you stayed with the Rom for a considerable length of time.  And while there are pages and pages about your stay with them, once you leave, the information is even sparser than before.  All I'm sure of is that somehow, Angelus managed to trace you back to the Rom decades later, and that's when Spike had them curse Angelus with his soul, and just in the knick of time, apparently."

"That's all it says?"  Willow asked a little suspiciously.

"Basically."

Willow hoped her enormous relief wasn't too apparent on her face.  After all, Jenny hadn't mentioned anything about how close she and Spike had actually became, or how Rose and Angelus had run into each other again playing poker, or about her little stay with him and William and the subsequent deal she and Spike had made with Angelus.  The more she thought about it, the more thankful she was for the abridged version of her personal journals.

"Good, because that pretty much covers it," Willow stated in a matter of fact tone.  "After all, here were are."

Jenny gripped her pen, the tip hovering over the margins in the journal as she readied herself to make more additions.

"But what about all those years in between?  What about you and Spike?  Did you meet Angelus again?  How did he find you?  What were the circumstances and events that had lead to Angelus being cursed with his soul the first time around?"

Thankfully, Willow's stomach chose that precise moment to let out a ravenous growl.

"Ooh, sorry.  I haven't eaten in--"

"A century and then some," Angel filled in, also thankful for the interruption.

"Anything in particular you've been craving, Willow?" Jenny asked, momentarily putting aside her note taking.

"Pizza and a coke," Willow responded immediately with a hungry grin.

"Considering the time, is frozen okay?  I'm sure we have your favorite kind in the freezer."

"Ooh!  And can I have *lots* of ice?  I missed ice in my drinks."

"I'm sure I can manage that," Jenny laughed as she left Angel and Willow alone, disappearing down the same hallway that Angel had made his entrance from earlier.  It wasn't until she was gone that Willow thought to wonder why they had her favorite kind of pizza on hand, but she doubted this was the best time to ask Angel any questions.  He seemed far from happy about what he'd just heard.

"Somehow I always thought playing 'This is Your Life" would be more fun than that," Willow mumbled to herself.

"You ready to hear that apology yet?"

"For what, Angel?"

Angel went to stand in front of Willow.  He wanted to pull her into his arms again, but resisted the urge.  "I never knew you spent all of that time alone, Willow.  That must have been horrible for you...all alone in a strange country, strange time...."

Willow shrugged it away and stepped back from the vampire.  "It wasn't fun but I survived.  Besides, that was hardly your fault.  I'm just sorry you had to find out this way about Spike.  This must be hard for you to hear.  I saw how close you and William were."

"Spike is not my William, never was," Angel said in a near growl.  "William would never betray me like that...not for Drusilla, not for anyone."

Willow opened her mouth to try to explain Spike's actions but thought the better of it.  Perhaps when everything wasn't so fresh, she could make Angel understand Spike's motivations...at least as much as she understood them.  Trying to change the subject and hopefully ease some of the tension, Willow glanced around the room again.

"Nice place Jenny has here."

Angel looked up from the spot on the floor that he'd been boring holes in with his eyes.  "Hmm?  Oh, this is my place, not Jenny's."  He paused.  "You don't recognize it?"

Willow gnawed on her lip as she reluctantly shook her head.  "No."

Angel frowned at the new revelation but decided to worry about its possible significance later.  At that moment, he was more concerned with how uncomfortable Willow looked in his home.  He wanted to put her at ease.

"As you can probably tell," Angel began casually, taking a seat on the windowsill, "it used to be a church."

"It's beautiful," Willow responded truthfully.

Jenny joined them, handing Willow a pint glass nearly overflowing with ice and cola.  "This place has been a godsend, really," she added.  "The basement is perfect for Buffy's training.  Lots of room for her to work out.  Rupert keeps the majority of his reference materials here now instead of at the school.  Makes it easier when we're up all night researching this and that.  Now we don't have to worry about being caught at the library after hours or Snyder questioning the sort of reading material he has on public display at the library.  We have everything we need here.  It's become like our second home."

Willow didn't know what to say, other than the sudden need to shout "But this is all wrong!"  Willow held her tongue by taking a huge gulp of the fizzy drink instead.  As delicious as it was, Willow couldn't enjoy it.  Her uneasiness was growing exponentially.

"So, if you've never been here before, where did Buffy train?" Jenny asked, noting her darkening disposition.  "Where did we research in your...time?"

Willow tucked a section of hair behind her ears and licked her dry lips.  "At the school library, actually.  Believe it or not, no one ever questioned our presence there at 2 AM on a Wednesday or on a Sunday afternoon during the summer.  Actually, no one ever commented about the occult section being ten times larger than natural science section, either.  Doesn't really bode well for the American public school system, does it?"

"Would you like a tour while you wait for the pizza?"  Angel asked.

"Why not," she said with a forced smile.  "Maybe it will jar my memory."

Angel looked about the room with a quiet smile on his pale face.  "This was the Church of St. Odilo, and that's actually him in that window there," he said, pointing to a particularly ornate stained-glass window near the front of the church which depicted a benevolent appearing man surrounded by many despondent souls.  "It was left vacant in the 50s when its congregation was absorbed by a larger catholic church in town.  Since then, it's been a homeless shelter, among other things, and most recently several failed antique shops."

With Willow at his side, Angel slowly walked down the row of windows, turning on a light now and then so she could see the beautiful handmade windows and fine millwork.

"I found it one of my first days here in Sunnydale.  It had two huge 'For Sale' signs in the front windows that you could barely see through the over-grown lawn, but somehow when I saw the name of the church, I knew."

"What do you mean?" Willow asked before taking another sip of her soda.

"St. Odilo is the patron saint of souls in purgatory.  Seemed a fittin' home fer a vampire with a soul, seekin' redemption," Angel commented, slipping into the brogue without realizing it.  Willow, however, noticed it.  As her hand clutched the glass even more tightly, she reminded herself that Angel was as Irish as Angelus was, as obvious as that may have seemed, and he had every right to speak his native tongue.  Still, it unnerved her more than she cared to admit.  She blamed the chill that kept running along her spine on the icy glass she was holding.

Willow continued to numbly follow Angel around.  She listened as best she could but the more he went on about what all he, Giles, Jenny, Buffy and the Scooby Gang did in the converted church, the more uneasy she grew.  On one hand, it sounded great.  They had their own place to hang out, research, do the Slayer and Wicca thing, without having to worry about outside interference.  Better yet, Angel seemed interested in helping them as much as he could and in many different ways.  He'd even purchased many of the library's rarer volumes himself.  Heck, it sounded like a great little club that they'd created for themselves.

<And everyone knows the secret handshake but me,> she mused silently.

Angel led her down the long hallway in the front of the sanctuary.  It had once led to the Sunday school rooms and offices in the back, but they now served as storage rooms and, oddly enough, spare bedrooms.  There were actually three spare bedrooms, and apparently she and the rest of the Scooby Gang used them quite frequently when their researching kept them there at all hours.  Angel gestured to a door at the end of a smaller side hallway.  He informed her that it led to what was once a smaller, more private chapel.

"Now it's my bedroom," Angel said, causing Willow to choke on her Coke.

"Sorry...not used to the ice cubes...went down the wrong way," she sputtered, her face flushing.

Trying not to smile, Angel continued the tour.  He showed Willow where the bathrooms were and the small but well-equipped kitchenette near the end of the hallway.  Willow's stomach growled again at the delicious aroma wafting from the oven.

Next to the tiny kitchen, a staircase led down into the basement.  As they stood at the top of the stairway, Willow listened to Angel explain that the basement held a rarely used industrial-sized kitchen, another room almost as large as the upstairs of the church itself that Buffy used for workout and training space, plus more rooms for storage and so on.  Apparently, there was also a handy access to the sewer system, making it only a quick hop-skip-jump to the school.

Just as the tour was to actually continue down into the basement, the buzzer went off, indicating that Willow's long-dreamt about pizza was ready.  Promising he'd show it all to her later, Angel went back into the kitchenette and donned a pair of red and black checked oven mitts before sliding the pizza out of the oven.

Willow shook her head as she walked back up the hallway to join Jenny.  It was wrong--all very, very wrong in a 'didn't everything turn out great?' kind of way.

Willow was too lost in her thoughts as she devoured three slices of pizza to even savor the flavor.  As she ate, Willow avoided their eyes.  There was so much more to talk about tonight and somehow she knew it was only going to get worse.

"Willow," Jenny finally said as she brought her another Coke, "why don't you tell us what your life was like before you left?  Who your friends were, what you did in your spare time, our lives?  Anything you can think of that may have possibly changed."

"Were all those details deleted out of the, er, Writings?"

"Yes.  After you get a chance to look at them you'll see that very little personal information remains.  Of course, now that you are back, we can see about getting the originals from Romania for you."

"I'd like that."

"So, Willow," Jenny continued, resuming her seat next to the redhead, "Tell us about yourself before Spike decided to play God."

Willow suddenly felt very cold.  She finally met her teacher's eyes, and Willow could easily see that the woman sensed there were more differences between the two timelines.  She put the rest of her pizza down.  Her appetite had vanished.

"Okay, well here it goes..." she began after a deep breath.

Willow quickly detailed her childhood, her lifelong friendship with Xander and Jesse and continued on to the day that she met Buffy.  So far, Angel and Jenny hadn't exchanged any knowing glances, so Willow felt comfortable that there were no monumental changes in her life as she knew it.  Willow took a deep breath and continued, realizing that if things were going to be different in her life, the changes would probably have occurred after Buffy's arrival.  She told of the friendship that had quickly developed between Buffy, Xander, and herself after they learned the Slayer's secret.  Willow quickly skimmed over Angel's introduction to the 'Scooby Gang' and how he began to help them.  She told them how Jesse died, the problems they experienced with the Master and the Anointed One, and while Jenny indicated that things had happened a little differently because of The Writings, the end results were the same.

Willow took a deep breath when she came to the point in her story were Angel became Angelus.

"One night, on Buffy's birthday, Angel...um...lost his soul."

"How?"

"It was when we were trying to stop Spike from assembling The Judge.  Things looked really bad, and....Wait.  Did that happen?  Did William, I mean Spike, try to assemble The Judge as a gift for Drusilla?"

Jenny shook her head.  "We never gave him the chance.  Because of The Writings, the Watchers Council had been collecting pieces of him over the years and destroying them."

"How did I lose my soul, Willow?" Angel prodded anxiously.

"Oh...well...you had a moment of, um, true happiness...I--I explained it all in my journals."

Jenny squeezed the girl's trembling hand.  "I'm sorry, Willow.  I know this is hard for you, but again, many of the events that I'm sure you went into great detail about are not in The Writings.  The Elders kept everything vague and, well, quite prophesy-like.  Even the parts that discussed Angel, the vampire with a soul, were rather oblique."

Willow couldn't help scowling at Jenny's words.  As thankful as she was for Angel never having lost his soul, she couldn't understand why the prophetic parts of her journals weren't more straightforward and accurate.  It could have made everything so much simpler.

"So," Jenny went on, noting the pensive look on the girl's face.  "I understand that there used to be a--I guess you called it a happiness clause--but exactly how did Angel lose his soul in your old timeline?  How did he achieve a moment of true happiness?"

<This is *so* not fun anymore,> Willow silently fumed.  Willow rose to her feet and walked to the nearest window.  She couldn't see much out of the stained glass, but she wasn't really trying to look outside.

"It happened after he had sex...I mean, made love..." Willow said, tracing one of the lines of leaded glass with a shaky finger, vaguely wondering who the person was depicted in the glass.

"You and Angel made love and he lost his soul?" Jenny asked as delicately as possible.

"Me?  No, not me," she laughed nervously.  "Angel and Buffy, of course."

"Buffy?" Jenny and Angel exclaimed in unison.

It was the incredulous tone in both their voices that started the warning bells chiming in Willow's head.  She turned to face them, finding that their surprise was just as evident on their faces.

"Of course, Buffy.  You two were--*are*--in love."  The amazement was gone from the vampire's face, only to be replaced with something darker.

"Buffy and I slept together?"

Just the once, Angel, because after that you weren't exactly lovey-dovey anymore.  Not the kind of boyfriend one invites to the prom," she added a little more softly, remembering a conversation she'd had with Spike about that same topic.

Angel ran his hand down his face wearily, and then he slowly moved to stand at the redhead's side.

"Willow, Buffy and I are not sleeping together at all.  We're not--

"Oh, I see," Willow interrupted.  She turned away from him to study the books on the shelf next to her.  "You two haven't slept together yet because you were worried about losing your soul, right?  Jenny wasn't kidding when she said they edited my journals.  Would have been nice if they'd left that part in," Willow barely stopped to breathe before continuing with her embarrassed and uncomfortable babble.  "To make you two wait like that isn't very nice, and I think I know something about waiting.  Of course, in my case it was a little different, but--"

Angel took the book out of her hand and reshelved it, trying to get the redhead's full attention.  But she was undaunted and grabbed another book before walking away, pretending to study its pages.

Angel followed.  "No, Willow, you don't understand..."

Feeling the unmistakable urge to flee, Willow began to head for the exit.  She wanted nothing more than to get out of earshot before he said something that she'd rather not hear.

"I mean, you've waited a long time, Angel."  She dropped the book on the nearest table as she rushed for the doors.  "So maybe I should head home and you can call Buffy and tell her to come over and--"

Angel was on the redhead's heels.  He stopped her retreat, grabbing the babbling girl by the upper arms and turning her to face him.  As Angel gently made her look at him, all the air seemed to leave the room, and Willow found her breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Willow, Buffy and I aren't...close."

Willow already knew were the conversation was heading, and she didn't need any prophetic writings to figure it out, but she was refusing to believe that it was possible.  Could she really have messed up things that badly?  Could she have inadvertently come between the two soul mates?

She flashed Angel a fake smile as she tried to wriggle out of his hold.  "Well, you're taking your time, then?  That's good.  Very, um, romantic, and I'm sure Buf--"

"Buffy and I aren't dating.  We aren't a couple, romantic or otherwise.  Buffy and I are friends, and that's all, Willow.  All it has ever been, all it will ever be."

Angel let her go then, and Willow backed away, shaking her head.

"Please tell me you're joking.  Tell me anything but that, Angel.  Tell me that Ronald Reagan was elected for three more terms or that...that Canada invaded and we all have to learn how to play hockey now, but not this.... Please, Angel, tell me that you and Buffy are...."

The look on Angel's face said it all.  With her back against the wall, Willow sank to the floor only a few feet from the exit.  She pulled her knees against her chest, wrapping her arms about her legs.

"Oh God...what have I done?" she repeated over and over again with her forehead on her knees.

Angel was at a complete loss as to how to help Willow.  He was still too stunned at Willow's announcement to be much use in soothing her.  Before he could come up with any kind of comforting thought, Willow's head jerked up.

"What else is different?" she demanded, not bothering to wipe the new tears away.  "What else have I ruined?  Is Buffy okay?  What about Giles?  Are Xander and Cordelia still together?"

"Xander and Cordelia are still the happy couple, strangely enough," Jenny answered.  "Rupert is...Rupert, as far as I know.  Although, I *have* managed to get him into a pair of jeans once or twice.  Lord knows that nearly took a magik spell in itself."

Willow focused on Angel.  "What about Buffy?"

"Buffy is fine, Willow.  She's a normal teen-aged girl, or at least as normal as the Slayer can be.  She dates, she goes to school, she even asked my opinion once on what to wear on a date.  She didn't listen, but she did ask."

Willow didn't even blink before she uttered the next word.  "Oz."

It was when Angel and Jenny exchanged a 'look' that Willow felt the bile begin to burn its way up her throat.  Her stomach clenched, preparing for the next blow.

Jenny knelt in front of the distressed redhead.  "Willow, about Oz, we have some...bad news."

"Just say it."

Jenny glanced at Angel and then back to Willow before continuing.  "Willow, Oz is...well, he's a werewolf."

Willow finally blinked.  "And?"

Jenny looked to Angel for help.

"For three nights every month, we have to lock him in the old walk-in refrigerator in the basement, Willow.  He becomes a werewolf...a killer..."

Willow used the wall to push herself into a standing position.  She looked back and forth between the vampire and the Gypsy, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Is that all?" she asked disbelievingly.  Jenny stood up and confirmed it with a nod of her head.

Willow allowed herself to feel the slightest bit of relief.  "I know that," Willow told them.  "He was a werewolf when we were together, too.  Although, I wish the Elders had left that part in because then maybe we could have warned him to avoid his cousin Jordy with the biting tendency..."

As Willow babbled on, she didn't notice the other 'look' that Jenny and Angel exchanged.

Jenny elbowed Angel, who in turn shook his head, elbowed Jenny right back, and then quickly backed away.

Jenny mouthed 'chicken' to Angel, before clearing her throat and stopping Willow in mid-babble.  "When you say 'together' Willow, how exactly do you mean?"

With the tiny smile of relief still fresh on her face, Willow quickly turned away from them both.  The hint of a grin quickly melted away as she easily deciphered the meaning behind Jenny's question.

"Um, I think I'm going to go now," Willow said distractedly, glancing about the room one last time as if looking for a coat.  "I'm, um, really tired and would like to sleep in my own bed for a change."  Willow turned to face them, flashing a brave but obviously fake smile.  "I'll see you...um... tomorrow and we can talk more...."

Willow's feet were taking the last final steps toward the door before she'd even finished speaking.

Jenny moved to stop her.  "Willow, wait.  There's more you need to know."

Willow threw upon the door with one hand, holding the other up to stop Jenny.  "No, I don't think I can take anymore good news tonight.

Jenny stopped and sent Angel a pleading look.

"Willow, it's almost four in the morning," Angel reminded her.  "Just stay here tonight.  We don't have to talk if you don't want to.  You can go straight to bed and we'll leave you alone."

Jenny sent the girl an apologetic look.  "Angel's right.  Maybe we shouldn't have sprung all of this on you at once, but stay here tonight.  You'll feel better in the morning when everyone comes over."

Willow turned around, her hand firm on the brass handle of the door, the cool night air blowing her hair into her face.  She couldn't bring herself to look at either Jenny or Angel, afraid of what answers she might be able to see in their eyes.  She instead kept them on the oriental throw rug beneath her feet.

"You know, I always thought seeing Buffy and Xander again would make me happy.  Now I'm not so sure."  She glanced about the beautifully renovated church, yet it meant nothing to her.  "You all have lots of memories of this place, your little pizza and research slumber parties, and I'm not a part of that."

"Yes you are, Willow.  You just don't remember it!" Angel insisted.

Willow turned back and stepped through the door, out onto the stoop.  She stopped and looked over her shoulder.  "How can I have memories of something I never did, Angel?  It *wasn't* me!  And you don't know me any better than I know you.  None of you do anymore."

Angel watched as Willow practically slammed the door behind her, his eyes closing at the hollow sound.

"Angel, she just needs some time, and we should give her that.  But perhaps you should follow her, just to make sure she makes it home safely," Jenny softly suggested.

Angel's eyes flew open.  "She's not going home," he informed her as he headed for the door to follow the redhead.  "She's going to see *him*."

"Oz?"

Angel couldn't keep the venom from his voice.  "No, she's going to see my traitorous childe.  She's going to see Spike."
 

~Chapter Four~

Willow ran into the humid night air, not caring at first where she was headed.  The irony was not lost on the redhead, even in her distressed state.  She'd been here before, maybe not in the same location, but in a similar state of mind and fleeing from the same vampire.  The difference was this time instead of running away from Angelus in fear for her life, she was running away from Angel and a life she knew little about.  And so Willow tore down the empty street until the stabbing stitch in her side caused her to slow her frantic pace and catch her breath.

She was tired, and not just from her mad dash through Sunnydale.  She was tired of running away from things...people...feelings.  She'd thought she was through with that after Spike's odd-but-effective therapy some years ago that had resulted in a chair leg being jammed deep within his chest.  She'd felt so much better after that and had been able for the first time to really enjoy her trip back in time.  Willow couldn't help smiling as she remembered her final years with Spike.  God, they'd had some fun during their more 'brotherly' travels.  Sure, it was a no-sex kind of fun, but looking back on it now, she knew she wouldn't change a thing.

As she thought about Spike and their most recent post-Angelus misadventures, Willow was able to get a good grip on her seesawing emotions.  Now she had to find Spike and make sure he really was okay, because in this matter, she couldn't simply take Jenny's word for it.  Willow needed to see with her own green eyes that he was alive, relatively speaking, and well.  And maybe if she could just talk to him for a little while, then everything would be better.  After all, that's what friends were for.

Resolved to speak with Spike as soon as possible, Willow glanced about, trying to figure out exactly where she was.  When she'd heard the name of the church earlier, it hadn't sounded familiar, but then again, Willow was hardly an authority on the Catholic churches of Sunnydale.  It took a moment but soon Willow realized where she was.

The church wasn't in a bad location, considering its new purpose.  It was convenient to the school, several of the more active cemeteries, and even The Bronze.  From what she could tell, The Church of St. Odilo was nestled smack dab in the middle of Sunnydale's version of the Bermuda Triangle.  Maybe it wasn't the ideal spot for a church, but for a bunch of high school students trying to save a small town from the forces of evil, it was the ideal headquarters.

Feeling a stab of resentment, Willow sighed before taking another deep breath and very slowly releasing it in an effort to cleanse herself of the darker emotion.  She knew she needed to be reasonable and try to look at the situation from a new perspective.  So as she continued her early morning journey to seek out Spike, she made herself picture her calming place and practice her deep breathing until, after a block or so, she was feeling more like herself.

Objectively, Willow had to admit that things really did look somewhat better for the Scooby Gang in this timeline.  Of course, she didn't know everything yet.  There could have been some horrible side effect that she didn't know about, like Twinkies and rootbeer never having been invented.  That would be bad.  Still, it was obvious that, this time around, they had more resources at their immediate disposal than ever before.  After all, they had hundreds of more books, their own computers, and a fully equipped training area for Buffy.  Plus, Angel seemed so much more....

Willow ended that train of thought quickly as a fresh stab of guilt ripped through her.  She forcibly pushed the familiar ill feeling away, deciding to see if she could go a whole hour in this new timeline guilt-free.  She continued her journey while focusing on more positive thoughts.

On the other hand, maybe something wonderful had happened, perhaps even on a global scale.  Maybe she and Spike had unknowingly advanced the cause of science, resulting in the ability for man to travel past the speed of light, or build a space station on the moon, or develop a cure for cancer.  The possibilities were endless.

The more positive thoughts nearly made Willow smile, and there was just a tad bit more spring to her step.  Although she sincerely doubted that anything miraculous had come from their little jaunt through time, she also doubted deep down that anything horrific had resulted from it either.  If they affected anything of historical value, it would have been the origins of poker at the most.  Willow made a mental note to do some quiet research into the history of gambling and see if anything seemed different.  After all, Spike had brought poker to Ireland a good century before it was even supposed to have been invented.

Now, as Willow cautiously made her way through the streets and parks of Sunnydale, she really did smile at the notion of their names being whispered reverently in gambling establishments around the world.  Perhaps even having a specific poker hand named after them!  And wouldn't she have fun explaining that one to Giles, not that she was in any hurry to share the past one-hundred-plus years with the librarian or any of her other friends.  She had too many of her own questions that still needed to be answered before she'd be ready to handle the endless amount of inane queries that Xander alone would probably generate.  For now, Willow was going to do her best to be the same old Willow they'd always known.

The closer she came to the mansion, the more careful Willow became, until she was practically crawling from bush to bush the last fifty yards or so.  Then she was there, standing behind a thick tree and some overgrown bushes in the empty lot across from the mansion.  From her position some 15 feet above the street, atop the sloping parcel of land, she could look down and spy on the front of the dark house.

<Now what?> Willow thought to herself.  She was too smart just to waltz in.  Like Jenny had told Angel earlier, Drusilla could be around.  And while the redhead had no desire whatsoever to see Drusilla, she could only imagine how Drusilla felt about her.  If the vampiress knew even a fraction of what had happened between she and Spike, let alone everything else that had happened while they were in the past, chances were that Willow was probably quite high on the dark-haired beauty's persona nongrata list.

Coming to the conclusion that it would be almost impossible to talk to Spike, Willow sighed.  She wasn't foolish enough to go breezing into the mansion like she had a written invitation.  Now that Drusilla was back in Spike's life, things would be different.  She could only hope that Spike would seek her out, and soon.

Willow shivered, drawing her arms about herself, trying to find some comfort in her own shaking limbs.  Just as her thoughts had taken an even more morose turn, she saw them.  Drusilla and Spike were walking down the street, holding hands, laughing, and whispering into each other's ears like newlyweds.  Willow moved further behind the tree as she watched.

She was conflicted.

On the one hand, she was happy for Spike.  In spite of everything that had happened and the mess that he'd actually created in her life, she wanted him to be happy.  It still tickled her romantic fancy that he'd gone to such lengths just to be with the love of his life again.  Watching them now as they leaned against the stone wall, kissing deeply as their hands wandered each other's bodies, she let loose a soft, girlish sigh.

On the other hand, it didn't quite seem right that he appeared so blissfully happy when her world--no matter how pitiful Spike had always said it was--was falling apart.  Willow sighed again.  This time it was filled with loneliness and longing.  And yet she couldn't make herself stop watching them.

*****

Angel's own pace toward the mansion was less desperate, initially.  In the beginning, he had no intention of stopping Willow, although his gut reaction had been to do whatever necessary to insure that Spike never laid eyes on his Willow again.

Spike.  Not his Spike.  Not the William he sired, trained...not the one with his blood pumping in his veins.  No, not the William that had been his constant companion for decades, but the *other* one.  Willow was running to the vampire that had done nothing but lie to him from the moment the bleached-blonde Englishman had insinuated himself into Angel's life.  She wasn't safe with Spike, no matter what kind of relationship she thought they had.  If Spike could have fooled him, using him as a means to an end, Spike could undoubtedly play Willow in the same way.  And now that it was over, now that the self-centered vampire no longer had a use for her, she could be in danger.

As Angel's thoughts dwelled on the vampire who'd betrayed him, his long strides quickened until he was running at full speed.  He would not allow his Willow to be hurt again by Spike.

Angel made his way as quickly as he could to the mansion, cutting through the park where he'd run into Willow earlier that night.  On the way, he discovered the vampire that had escaped him then.  Angel made quick work of dispatching the fledgling, before hurrying on his way.

Then he saw her up ahead, partially leaning against and partially hiding behind a large, twisted old tree.  She was staring down the weedy bank at the Crawford Mansion.  Angel stopped where he was, wanting to observe her for a moment in hopes that he could understand what was going on in her head as she stood looking down at the house.  Unfortunately, he couldn't be a silent witness for long.  After only a moment, Willow stiffened, becoming aware of his presence.

She'd hoped that he wouldn't follow her, but she also knew that he would.  He always had before.  But knowing it didn't help the tired redhead prepare.  Willow wasn't ready for an all-out confrontation with Angel.  She knew she was still teetering delicately between guilt, anger, resentment, and relief, and that it wouldn't take much for her to fall completely towards her darker emotions.  <After all,> she reminded herself, recalling Yoda's warning to his apprentice.  <The darker side was quicker, easier...more seductive.>

"You said you'd leave me alone," Willow reminded him in a gruff voice barely loud enough to be heard over the rustling leaves.

"And you said you were going home to sleep in your own bed," he countered, drawing a shrug from the redhead.

"I lied."

"I know.  It wasn't one of your better bluffs, Willow."

Even the poker reference couldn't make Willow look away from the couple below her.  She did, however, inwardly groan at the unwelcome memories his words induced.

"I wasn't try to win anything.  I just wanted to get away," she said truthfully, hoping the vampire could take a hint.

Angel somehow managed not to flinch at the remark.  "From me," he stated, already steeling himself for her answer.

"From both of you, actually.  Not to mention your 'oh by the way, forget everything you ever thought you knew about yourself' speeches."

Angel's eyes fluttered shut, but they couldn't keep out the coldness of her words.  He hadn't heard that tone in her voice for so long...not since his pre-curse mistreatment of her in London.  Since he'd arrived in Sunnydale two years earlier, she'd never used that tone with him...never been so cold.  <But this isn't the same Willow,> he reminded himself.

Angel ran a troubled hand down his face, eyes still closed, wishing he knew the right way to behave in a situation like this.  Unfortunately, as far as he knew, there were no self-help books for vampires with souls, fully illustrated and explaining in detail how he should act around the woman that he'd been obsessed with for more years than he could recall.  Even though his obsession had changed since the years he'd been cursed with his soul, blossoming into something quieter, purer, but no less passionate, when he was near this Willow, he found it hard to know how to behave.  Her seemingly flip-flopping emotions didn't help matters any.

He didn't blame her for being angry.  After all, it wasn't long ago that he'd been belittling Jenny for similar reasons.  And maybe he, like Jenny, didn't fully deserve such harsh treatment, but Angel did understand where Willow's bitterness was coming from.  Finding some solace in this, Angel opened his eyes, fixing the back of her head with a determined gaze.  He wished Willow would look at him, even it was only long enough for him to see if that same iciness was echoed on her face.  But she remained with her back to him, fingers digging into the bark of the gnarled tree, gazing down at the old manor.

"I'm sorry, Willow," he told her honestly.  "We weren't prepared for how different everything would be for you.  I know we didn't handle it very well, and maybe it was all too much for you to hear at one time."

"Maybe?" Willow softly snorted.

"Okay, tonight we made Cordelia look like the queen of tact," he said lightly, hoping to bridge the chasm that was rapidly widening between them.  Willow, however, didn't acknowledge his effort or budge from her voyeuristic spot.

Although reluctant to actually see the old mansion, Angel silently moved to stand beside her and peer down at the sight that was keeping her enraptured.  He was surprised to find that it was actually Spike and Drusilla that had the redhead so transfixed, and that she wasn't just staring down at the mansion in some bout of adolescent-like longing.  And as much as he wanted to see her face, try to read her thoughts about Spike and Drusilla by peering into the sea-green depths of her eyes, Angel instead jumped back a few feet.  He had no desire to see Spike or let Spike see him.

"You shouldn't be here, Willow," he hissed.  "It's too dangerous."

"I'm down wind," Willow informed him matter-of-factly.  "And if you'd keep your voice down, they won't even know I'm here."

"They aren't the only two vampires in Sunnydale," he reminded the stubborn redhead, but she wouldn't budge.

"I know.  I managed to sneak by one on my way here.  But he was young...I would hear him coming in plenty of time to make myself scarce."

For the briefest of moments, Angel felt pride at her ability to avoid the fledgling.  That was until he remembered that this wasn't the Willow that he'd been training.  Everything she'd learned was without his aid, and in spite of it.

"You don't have to worry about that vampire anymore, unless you're allergic to dust.  He was the same one from earlier tonight, so I took care of him," Angel assured her, but Willow quickly brought him back to her reality.

She finally turned and looked him straight in the eye, sharp green piercing fathomless brown.

"I wasn't worried," Willow said coolly.  "And I want to be alone, Angel."

"Why?  So you can go see Spike?" Angel bristled at the thought.  "You *can't* do that."

Willow's eyes narrowed at his dictatorial tone, remembering that in some ways, she belonged to the vampire in front of her.  She drew herself up to her full height, threw her shoulders back, and jutted out her chin.  Maybe he felt like he could boss her around just because of some little blood ritual that he and Spike had forced her to participate in decades earlier, but as far as she was now concerned, soul or no soul, she didn't belong to anyone.  Furthermore, the redhead wasn't about to let him tell her how to lead her life.  She wasn't 17 again, no matter how old she looked.  And if he *dared* to pull any of that vampiric 'you are mine and you'll do what I say' crap, she'd be very tempted to slug him and walk away laughing.  She was just in that kind of mood.

"And why not?" she challenged, daring him with everything from her eyes, to the tightness of her lips and her resolute stance to tell her what she could do.

Angel took a lazy step closer, something deep within him responding as she transformed before his eyes into the incredibly obstinate woman that he knew from his dark past.

"Because," he drawled, calmly this time, "it wouldn't be safe for you to go down there now.  Drusilla--"

"I realize that," she interrupted caustically.  <How stupid do you think I am?> she wanted to shout, but restrained herself.  She just couldn't be sure if he was trying to tell her what to do or simply worried about her.

The silence between them grew as Willow's 'leave me alone, I'm a big girl' vibes clashed bitterly with Angel's 'I'm still older than you, young lady, and I know what's best' attitude.  Eventually, Angel relented.  This wasn't the time or the place for this sort of battle, and guessing from Willow's dour look, he doubted if she'd back down anytime soon.

"Willow, I'm just trying to help.  It's the least I can do, if you'll let me."

The unmistakable sincerity in his voice soothed some of Willow's fears.  It didn't seem as if he was telling her what to do or demanding her acquiescence.  He appeared to merely be concerned for her safety and the pain that he'd caused her.  Unfortunately, while it made her feel somewhat better to know that he cared more about her well being than her obedience, it also set off a few new twinges of guilt, because she knew that he *shouldn't* care.  The old Angel wouldn't have.

"I know you mean well," she sighed, much of her anger escaping with that one breath. "But right now the last thing I want is your help, Angel."  Willow looked away from him before she could see his reaction.  "I don't expect you to understand..." she added, once again turning her attention to Spike and Dru.  "I barely understand it myself."

Neither spoke for a while.  Willow continued to watch the two vampires across the street behaving like teenagers, while Angel watched her, watching them.

"This is where you were heading when we ran into each other in the park earlier tonight, wasn't it?" Angel asked abruptly, breaking the peacefulness that had settled about them.  "You were going to see *him*."

Willow nodded, her eyes still glued to the vampiric couple.  "I just needed to make sure he was okay."

Angel crossed his arms as if trying to hold something in, then glided forward just enough to make out the tops of Spike's and Drusilla's heads.  The soulful vampire just didn't get it.  How could Willow forgive Spike for everything he'd put her through?  Why wasn't she, at this very moment, begging the Slayer to stake his selfish ass?

"He looks fine to me," Angel pointed out in an annoyed tone.  "Yet, I have to wonder why he's not out looking for you, concerned about whether or not you're okay."

The moment the words tripped across his lips, Angel wanted to take them back.  They sounded catty and childish, below a man who'd seen the turn of two centuries, but if Willow had noticed his adolescent slip, she didn't let it show.

"Spike knows I can take care of myself.  Besides, looks like he kinda has his hands full at the moment," she added with a wistful smile.

Still bewildered by her behavior, Angel could only grunt in response.  After a short time, they watched as Spike stopped kissing Drusilla long enough to scoop her into his arms and carry her to the front door of the mansion.  For a moment, the blonde vampire stopped in the doorway and turned to glance up over his shoulder in their general direction.  Without stopping to think, Willow darted back behind the cover of the broad tree trunk.  She didn't like the thought of Spike knowing that she'd been spying on him with Drusilla.  When the amorous vampires were gone from view and the door closed behind them, Willow finally turned to leave.

"Where are you going now?" Angel asked, following the redhead as she easily picked her way back through the overgrown weeds and bushes of the undeveloped lot, away from the mansion.

"Home to my own bed...and hopefully a very long shower."

"You shouldn't be alone, Willow.  Come back to my place."

Willow tried not to snort as the phrase '...said the spider to the fly' came to mind.  "I don't think that would be a good idea."

Angel caught up with her as they finally broke through to the sidewalk, a block away from Crawford Street.  "Why not?" he asked.  Angel figured he already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it.

Willow rolled her eyes, not that the vampire beside her could see it.  "I already told you, Angel.  I--I don't belong there."

"But you belong at home all alone?"  Angel chuckled darkly, not because it was funny but because she'd answered precisely as he'd guessed that she would.  Her anger was gone because she'd already let guilt takes its place, something else to which he could easily relate.

When Willow wouldn't stop to talk to him, Angel spun on his heel to walk backwards a few feet in front of her, forcing her to look at him.  "So is this how you're going to punish yourself?  Cut yourself off from all your friends, spend your days alone, wondering what you could have done differently?  Doesn't sound like much of a life, if you ask me."

"Well, I didn't ask you, did I?  Besides, you don't understand..." Willow muttered grimly, pushing past the dark vampire, but he latched on to her tiny hand and tugged her back around to face him.

"Don't I?"

As Willow looked up into his pale face, now almost luminous beneath the light of the half-moon, Willow knew that Angel understood all about guilt.  His sable eyes were warm, almost pleading with her to let him in, share her fears, but she couldn't.  While their guilty consciences may be able to find momentary solace with one another, she doubted that he truly understood where her guilt was rooted.

"Leave me alone, Angelus," she tried to demand, but it came out more as a plea.

Sensing that maybe he'd gotten through to her, the vampire loosened his grip on her petite hand, allowing her to easily free herself.  But before she could completely escape, Angel stepped back in front of her with predatorial ease, momentarily blocking her retreat.

"I prefer *Angel* now," he reminded her firmly, before stepping out of her way with a quick, playful bow.  "And if you insist on going home, then I'm going to make sure you get there in one piece," he added as she marched past him.  "You're distracted.  Distraction tends to get you dead in Sunnydale."

"Nice to know *some* things don't change," Willow muttered as she stalked off in the general direction of her home, Angel at her heels.

As she walked, Willow tried to ignore the fact that the dark vampire was just behind her, but it was impossible.  Even though he made no sound as he followed, she was, as always, super-aware of his presence.  Doubting he'd leave her be no matter what she said, Willow gave up trying to get rid of him for now and focused instead on quickening her already harried pace towards home.

Unfortunately for Willow, walking meant thinking...the kind of thinking that lead to questions, and soon her desire to be alone was overshadowed by her need for answers.  As she entered a tiny park, the redhead's steps slowed.  Angel moved up, understanding her silent permission for him to walk beside her.

"Oz and I aren't together...we're not a couple or even dating, are we?" she finally asked without looking at him, her unwavering steps not revealing how unsettling the question actually was to her.

"No, Willow," he answered, eyes cemented to the path in front of them so that he wouldn't see the hurt he was causing her.  "You aren't."

"Do we even know each other?" she asked in a quivering voice.  "Are we friends?  I mean, we have to be, don't we?  He saved me from the Order of Taraka...he took a bullet and everything.  That's not something you just ignore, even on the hellmouth, you know?"

Angel lightly grasped Willow's elbow to gently bring them both to a halt.  He slowly turned the redhead to face him, relieved that for once she didn't fight him.  It wasn't until she finally tilted her face up to look at him, her eyes glistening brightly with unshed tears in the soft moonlight, that he spoke.

"You and Oz *are* friends, Willow.  You even take a turn watching him in the basement during full moons.  Anytime we've needed his help we could count on him.  But no...you two aren't...romantically involved," Angel informed her as delicately as he knew how.  Willow listened, or at least she allowed her ears to do their job, but the rest of her was resisting.  "The Writings gave us a heads up on the Order of Taraka," Angel continued, "And we were able to put a stop to it before any shootings occurred."

When he was done, she slid back out of his reach, needing to absorb the new information.  Willow toed at the damp grass, morosely tracing abstract patterns in the dew with her slightly soggy Converse high-tops.  She was beginning to rue the day that she'd begun keeping a journal in the first place.

"No shooting is a good thing, but..." Willow mumbled half-heartedly, "But there was more to our relationship than the fact that he saved my life.  I know there was."

"I'm sure there was, Willow," Angel said sincerely.

Willow didn't wipe away the tears as they swelled.  Instead they trailed down the curve of her lower lashes where Angel watched them cling, momentarily defying the laws of gravity, before finally succumbing to its pull.  The salty drops fell at her feet, adding their wetness to the already glistening grass, only to be swept away as her shoe continued its aimless pursuit of modern art.

"I should have known that I couldn't have it all," Willow finally spoke in a dull tone.  "We saved your soul, countless lives, Spike has Drusilla, Ms. Calendar's alive...everyone seems happy, even you, but...."  Willow stopped herself.  It wasn't that she begrudged any of them their happiness, but it just wasn't enough.  She'd put her own life on hold for more than one lifetime with expectations that one day everything would be just as it had before.  Buffy and Angel were supposed to be together now, as were she and Oz.  But especially, Buffy and Angel....

"So I guess this is my punishment...losing Oz," she sniffed.

"Punishment for what, Willow?"

Willow looked him straight in the eye.  "For messing with things that should have been left alone.  For trying to play God."  <And for allowing myself to come between you and Buffy,> she finally admitted to herself.

At any other time, Angel would have found Willow's over-developed sense of guilt--one that she shared with the previous Willow--endearing, but not now.  He knew this wasn't simply a display of your average, everyday teenage guilt.  This was the kind of guilt that could drag her down with it if she didn't try to resist its weighty pull.

"Aren't you being a little hard on yourself, Willow?  After all, you weren't given much of a choice."

A small, albeit wry, smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.  "Now you sound like him."

"Who?"

"Spike," she informed Angel, adding a quick glance over her shoulder in the general direction of the mansion.  "He used to tell me the same thing...that it wasn't my fault and not to take the weight of the world on my shoulders, etc., etc., etc."  Willow refocused on Angel but was oblivious to how his features had stiffened at the mere mention of Spike's name.  "It was easier to agree with him in the end," she went on to explain.  "It made coping with everything that had happened easier, but now...."  Willow trailed off, wrapping her arms about herself, trying unsuccessfully to ward off her growing guilt.  "I'm so sorry, Angel."

Sensing the even darker turn in her mood, the dark vampire tried a different tactic.  "I thought you weren't going to apologize," he teased, his eyebrows lifting roguishly.

"I'm not apologizing for your soul, Angel," Willow stated in no uncertain terms.  "I just regret that I cost you Buffy."

Angel shook his head lightly as the