SPOILERS: This takes place after Angel loses his soul but before Becoming, which never happened in my 'verse. I will keep and discard Buffy lore as I see fit.

Prologue

November 17, 2004

Willow couldn't help but wonder what she was doing at the Bronze. Though the club hadn't changed much in the years she'd been away, she no longer felt comfortable within its walls. It was still a teenage club and she was no longer a teenager. Not that Willow looked out place. At 23, she still looked young enough to fit in. Too bad she didn't feel the way she looked. Inside, Willow felt as if she had lived three lifetimes, and if the amount of pain she lived with counted as anything, she probably had.

She sat at her corner table and watched the strange, youthful faces passing by her. She knew no one in the club, not that she had expected to. Everyone she had known and loved had left Sunnydale, like her, years ago. Her motivation for coming here hadn't been out of the hopes of seeing someone she knew. She supposed it had been nostalgia that had drawn her there. She wanted to sit and remember the way things had been, before life had intervened and changed things.

Willow sipped her coffee slowly. There was no band at the bronze tonight, though Willow didn't mind. The DJ they had hired had a rather classic taste in music. Many of the songs he was playing had been popular when she in high school. At the moment, an old Pearl Jam song, Willow vaguely recognized as one Oz had loved, was playing. Willow's body swayed as she let the lyrics wash over her.

**I seem to recognize your face

Haunting, familiar, yet I can't seem to place it

Cannot find the candle of thought to light your name

Lifetimes are catching up with me

All these changes taking place, I wish I'd seen the place

But no one's ever taken me

Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away... **

Willow watched the couples dancing with sad eyes. Her eyes latched on to a trio of youths, no older than 17, dancing off to the side of the dance floor. They could have easily been her, Buffy and Xander. Willow's throat constricted painful as memories washed over her. <I miss those days so much. Things were so much simpler then. Sure we had vampires and demons to deal with, but we had each other. We were best friends, inseparable. The slayer and her faithful slayerettes. I thought nothing would ever tear us apart. How naive I was. >

Willow blinked back tears, her eyesight blurring. In her mind's eye, she could picture Buffy and Xander, as they had been 6 years ago. The image was so clear it was almost as if they were standing there beside her.

When Willow's eyes spotted the tall figure near the entrance of the Bronze, she thought he was part of her mind, a hallucination like that of Buffy and Xander. It was only when he turned to face her that she realized he was real, not an apparition from her past, but real. She paled visibly, her body shaking in recognition.

**I swear I recognize your breath

Memories like fingerprints are slowly raising

Me, you wouldn't recall, for I'm not my former

It's hard when you're stuck upon the shelf

I changed by not changing at all; small town predicts my fate

Perhaps that's what no one wants to see

I just want to scream...hello...

My god it's been so long, never dreamed you'd return

But now here you are, and here I am

Hearts and thoughts they fade...away... **

Willow's heart beat a staccato rhythm in her chest, her eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of him. He looked the same as he had the last time she had seen him. <Of course he would. It's not like he's aged at all. He'll always look that way, long after we're all dead and buried. He will always be the same eternally beautiful angel. >

Willow's eyes hungrily took in his dark, sable soft hair, the liquid brown warmth of his eyes. His face was all planes and angles, a study in architecture. His lips, Willow had always loved those lips, were full and pouty. Willow always found it remarkable, but also incredibly sexy, that a guy's lips could be pouty. She had always thought that particular feature was reserved for girls.

Willow could feel her body warming with desire as she took in his clothing. As usual, his shirt and pants were black. The velvet and cotton materials hung loosely on his body in a look that was incredibly flattering on his muscular frame. He looked just as good as he did in skintight leather. <Hell, who am I kidding, he'd look that good if he was wearing a burlap sack. He's too naturally gorgeous to ever look anything but. >

It was with faint horror and embarrassment that Willow realized that he was starring back at her. The expression on his face and in his eyes was unreadable to Willow. <Did he know that I was here? Is that why he came? Is he happy to see me or was he hoping we'd never see each other again? I can't blame him if he felt that way. Truth is, I've been secretly dreading and hoping for this day since we parted all those years ago. What should I do? Should I go over to him? Will he come over to me or will he pretend he doesn't see me? Oh God, why did we have to meet like this, on tonight of all nights. >

These questions and doubts raced through Willow's mind in a millisecond. Now that they were finally being reunited, Willow didn't know what to do, how to feel, how to act, what to say. Her heart constricted painfully in her chest. <God he looks so good, I don't think I realized how much I missed him till this moment. >

All the love Willow had felt for him long ago, the love she had been repressing while they had been apart, swelled up painfully in her chest. Her instincts were to run over and throw her arms around him; to bury her face in his chest and wrap herself in his protective arms. To surround herself with his reassuring presence and bask in his love. Of course, she couldn't do that now. For all she knew, his love for her had died long ago.

His face shifted, an emotion Willow couldn't identify flashing across his face. Then, before Willow could even react, he began to cross the club towards her. Keeping her face as neutral as possible, Willow waited for him to reach her table. He avoided her gaze until he was directly in front of her. When he looked up, Willow gasped at the naked emotion shinning from their depths. "Willow," he breathed, his voice husky with pent up feeling.

Willow smiled timidly, afraid she might be misreading his eyes, yet hopeful nonetheless. Her voice quivered as she opened her mouth to speak and she realized she was on the verge of tears once again.

Before she could say anything, he surged forward, pulling her into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, unashamed as the tears began to fall. Burying her face into his shoulder, her cheek rubbing against soft velvet she let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, "Angel."