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Title: Alone in the Crowd
Author: Tammy Moore

This story deals with the aftermath of rape. If you don't like to read
about this sort of thing don't go any further.

Distribution:Anyone, but tell me first, kay?
Disclaimer:All characters belong to Joss/Mutant Enemy and WB. I don't any
of them and I'm making no money from this story (I just wish) and no
copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: This is the sequel to my story Passion Play. Angelus raped Willow.
Now he's got his soul back and they all have to deal with the aftermath.
Spoilers: Becoming
Rating:NC15
Feedback: Feedback is welcome but you'd better be polite. Flame me and I'll
send Angelus round to see you. Then he'll leave.

Alone in the Crowd

"Do you think this was a crank call?" Hannah Drake asked her partner as she
glanced round the pristine house, wondering idly if anyone actually ever
lived here. "I mean, this place looks like nobody has been here for
months!"

"Maybe." Wilson grunted his response noncommittally, trying to hide the
sick feeling that had taken root in his stomach. He liked Drake well
enough, but she was newly transferred from LA and thought she'd seen
everything there was to see. She hadn't realized the dark truth about her
new home, yet. Wilson, on the other hand, had been a cop in Sunnydale for
nearly twenty years and he'd seen enough to know a little about the
corruption that lurked barely hidden under the surface of the town. This
pristine, suburban room didn't reassure him, only frightened him more.
Glancing around his eyes fell on a picture neatly centered on a table, a red
haired girl in her early teens smiled shyly from the picture. Closing his
eyes for a second, the image of his own little girl swimming behind his
closed eyelids, he sent a rare prayer to God that it was a crank call.
"Let's check upstairs."

"Oh, come on. Look at this place, Jim." Hannah protested a touch irritably
as her partner strode towards the stairs. "It's obvious that it was a crank
call. There's no sign of forced entrance, no sign of a struggle and there's
no one here."

"You check down here then." Without even looking round Wilson continued
walking up the stairs, his hand resting on the gun he wore. "It's probably
just paranoia, but I'll feel more comfortable if we check everything out.
That OK with you?"

"Of course, sir."

Hannah muttered, flushing slightly under her senior officer's sarcasm.
Rubbing her hands down her trousers she glanced nervously around the house,
her previous dismissal of the emergency call slightly shaken by her
partner's grim demeanor.

Pushing her short blonde hair away from her face she pushed a door open
carefully, looking down the corridor that led into a white tiled kitchen. A
slight frown hitched her eyebrows as she saw the phone halfway down the
hall, the receiver dangling carelessly from the end of the stretched cord.
This wasn't right, she thought, as she walked slowly down the hall warily,
not in a house that was kept as pristine as this one. Reaching the phone
she crouched down and pulled a pen from her pocket, trying to turn the phone
around to look at it. Her lips tightened, thinning to a white line as she
saw the large, bloody handprint imprinted on the pale blue handset.

"Damn it!" She hissed, letting the phone drop again and pushing herself to
her feet. "Wilson! JIM! I think I've…."

"Get up here!" Jim's voice, edged with anger, echoed down the stairs and
overpowered her lighter voice. "Now!"

Reaching the upstairs she glanced around, wondering where her partner was.
Noting the one open door at the end of the hall she headed towards that,
hesitating in the doorway as she saw her partner kneeling by the bed. Her
eyes flickered over the room quickly, taking in the stuffed toys neatly
arranged on the shelves and the pile of books on the desk. Her throat
tightened as she walked towards the bed, sickly assured of what she was
going to see. Damn it, she requested the transfer from LA because she
thought this place would be quieter.

"Is she dead?" She asked, staring at the still, bloody form lying on the
bed. It was obvious from the blood staining her thighs and the bite marks
on her breasts what had happened. Bruises stood out with cruelly vivid
color against her pale skin, dark purple black brands on her face, shoulders
and thighs. The only thing about the badly abused girl lying on the bed
that connected it to the pictures of the shy young girl that were scattered
around the house were the dark coppery locks that spilled over her face.
Glancing away from the still figure Hannah glanced at her partner, who was
crouching by the bed and holding one pale hand in his larger, tanned one.
"Jim?"

"She's still breathing." He answered after a second, never moving his eyes
from her face as if he could keep her breathing by sheer force of will.
"But I think she's going into shock, she's been badly beaten and lost a lot
of blood. I've radioed the station and they're sending other cars and an
ambulance. I just hope they're in time."

"They will be, Jim." Hannah muttered awkwardly, her hand hovering over her
partner's shoulder for a moment before she withdrew it and let it drop to
her side. "She's a fighter. She wouldn't have hung on this long if she
wasn't."

"She's so small!" Setting the small hand back down on the bed Jim rose to
his feet, running his hand through his hair in distress. "How could anyone
do this?"

"I don't know." This time Hannah clasped Jim's shoulder in silent
solidarity, shaking her head slowly. "They're just monsters…They'd have to
be to do this. They're monsters and we'll catch them…It's all that we can
do for her now."

"I know. I know." Jim acknowledged the younger officer's words tiredly,
patting the hand she laid on his shoulder in weary gratitude. "It's just
hard. Where's her family anyhow, what do they think they're doing leaving a
child alone at this time? It's nearly midnight! You'd think they'd be back
by now."

* * * *

Outside the window of Willow's room Angel, perched in the tree he'd climbed
earlier to gain access to the room, watched the two police officers
anxiously. As he waited for word on whether Willow would survive his
nervously flexing fingers tearing strips of bark from the tree.

"Oh yes." He whispered as he heard the female officer make a comment about
monsters, his face twisting in grief as she moved and revealed Willow's
battered form. "Only a monster like me."

Part 2

"Are you feeling any better today?" The plump, middle aged nurse asked the
wan, bruised girl gently as handed the two painkillers and a plastic cup of
water. "You look a little bit stronger."

"I feel better." Willow whispered, wincing slightly at the pain in her
throat as her low, raspy voice emerged. Her hand rose automatically in
response to the thought, her fingers brushing the soft bandages that were
wrapped around her throat. "Just a bit achy."

The girl's tremulous smile, and the barely concealed fear that lurked in her
dark eyes, wrung Gina Davies heart. When the girl had been brought in on
Friday night no one had held out any hope that she'd survive, blood loss,
shock and the time that had passed before she got help all lowering her
chances of survival. Now, despite the bandages that swathed her head,
throat and much of her visible skin, no one would imagine that two days
before she'd been at death's door.

Not, Gina added acerbically to herself, that there was any risk of anyone
but the nursing staff seeing her. The poor child had been admitted three
nights ago and the only visitors she'd had since then had been the police
wanting a statement, she hadn't even had a phone call. Apparently her
parents were away on some sort of conference and hadn't left a contact
number for their daughter to get in touch of them. What sort of person goes
away and leaves their seventeen year old daughter on her own for an
undisclosed period of time, Gina wondered angrily as she smoothed down the
sheets, some people shouldn't be allowed to have children.

"Well, the doctor said that you would be fit to be discharged tomorrow.
Although he's not happy about letting you go home when there's no one there
in case you need them" Gina told her, taking the plastic cup back and
helping Willow lie back against her pillows. "Isn't there anyone you can
call to stay with you."

"No…" Willow muttered, averting her eyes from the friendly nurse in obscure
shame at having to admit that there was no one to care about her. Blinking
furiously as she felt the weak tears welling up in her eyes she swiped
surreptitiously at her eyes, glancing sideways at Nurse Davies who had
discretely turned her eyes away from her charge. "There's no….I…I could
call Mrs Anders?"

"Is she a friend of your parents?" Gina asked, sitting down on the side of
the bed. Reaching out a hand she brushed a strand of brilliant titian red
hair away from her face. "Or a relative."

Willow winced at the question, remembering a myriad uncomfortable scenes
that occurred over the years when she was friends with Jesse. Her mother
had never been able to let an opportunity to snipe at Jesse's mom pass, not
even at his funeral. Relaxed, easy going Petra had never seemed to mind but
in Willow's eyes that only made it worse.

"No." Biting her lower lip Willow glanced up at Nurse Davies from below her
lashes, running her hand absently down the white sheets. "Her son, Jesse,
was a friend of mine and I used to stay over with her sometimes but…she
wasn't friends with my parents. They didn't really get on together. …Could
you call her anyhow?"

"If she's not a relative…" Gina stalled for a moment but finally melted
under the pleading stare that Willow had turned on her. "I'm not promising
anything but I'll ask the administration and the police. They'll be wanting
to talk to you again you know."

"Yes." The small, elfin face closed up as Willow muttered the word, the
shutters coming across her eyes as they did every time the attack was
mentioned. "I know."

Gina sighed and got to her feet, patting the white clad shoulder soothingly
before heading towards the door of the private room. She paused in the
doorway for a minute and then turned back, staring steadily at the small,
solemn girl sitting on the bed.

"I have a daughter myself." She noted conversationally, watching quietly as
confusion flickered across Willow's pallid features. "Margaret, she's only
fifteen. Whoever did this needs to be caught and you're the only one who can
help, Willow. I'd hate to see another child in here because of this madman.
Think about it."
* * * *

"So, this librarian spends a lot of time with the female students?" Hannah
asked, her blue eyes narrowing as she noted down the Principal's statement.
"Have there been any signs of anything amiss with these students?"

"Well." Snyder hesitated, rubbing his fingertips thoughtfully over his
forehead. "Now I think about it…yes."

Getting to his feet he strode over to the window, hiding the ecstatic grin
that kept twisting his mouth as he was speaking.

"I'm sorry, Officer Drake, but this has all been a terrible shock. Willow's
a brilliant girl with a bright future ahead of her…the idea that my
inattention might have contributed to this terrible thing happening to her…"

"I understand, Principal Snyder." Hannah murmured sympathetically, her mind
flying back to the image of that pale, battered body lying on the blood
stained bed. "But I do need to know the answers to these questions. Miss
Rosenburg has been unwilling to make a statement about her attacker, which
is what led us to believe that it might be someone she knew. If you can
tell us anything that you think will help perhaps we can stop this happening
to anyone else."

"Of course. It's just that now I think about it there were literally dozens
of telltales that I overlooked because I trusted this man. I
feel…responsible." Turning around, his face once more composed into a more
socially acceptable mask of horror and regret, he stared solemnly at the
police woman. "Perhaps if I'd been Principal here all along I would have
noticed the change…but it's only now that I study their past records that I
see it. Buffy Summers has always been a trouble maker but the other two,
Cordelia Chase and…Miss Rosenburg, were model students before their
involvement with Mr Giles. There was also…no, I'm just being paranoid now."

"Please, Principal Snyder, tell me anything that you can think of. We'll
decide if it's relavent."

"It's just…Mr Giles was involved with one of our other teachers, a Miss
Calender. She was murdered in the school…her neck was broken."

"I think I need to speak to this Mr Giles." Hannah said grimly, a scenario
of what had happened already forming in her mind. "He probably doesn't know
that Miss Rosenburg survived his attack and we don't want him panicking and
possibly doing something unwise. Could you ask him to come to your office?"

"Of course." Snyder answered co-operatively as he leaned forward and
activated the intercom on his desk. "It would be my pleasure!"
* * *
Running his fingers absently through his hair in an unconsciously anxious
gesture Giles paced the waiting room outside the Principal's office. This
was not proving to be a good day. First of all Buffy had called from her
father's and told him that she wouldn't be back for another two days. Then
Willow hadn't turned up this morning to help him with his research and she
wasn’t answering the phone at his house. This summons fromHe glanced
venomously towards the closed door behind which, he had no doubt, Snyder was
smirking with pleasure in his petty tyranny. The man really was the nasty
little troll that Buffy called him.

"Mr Giles?" An brusque, unfamiliar female voice demanded abruptly and he
wheeled round to stare at the slender blonde police officer standing in the
doorway of the principal's office. "Mr Rupert Giles?"

"Y..yes." He stuttered, trying to quell the panic that was roiling in his
stomach as the conviction that it was Buffy who'd brought this grim faced
officer here took root in his mind. Shoving his hands into the pockets of
his tweed jacket he fisted them, struggling to keep his face calm despite
the turmoil inside. "Is there s..something wrong, Officer…?"

"I just need to ask you some questions."

Hannah stated noncommittally, studying the man with cold eyes as he twitched
nervously. He didn't look like much to her but Willow Rosenburg hadn't been
a very large girl, she'd have no chance against this man.

"About what?"

"I'll tell you that at the station sir. If you'd accompany me?"

"Why?" Suspicion bloomed in Giles eyes as he glanced over the police
woman's head and saw Snyder lurking in the doorway with a mocking grin on
his pinched little face. "Am I a suspect.

"Yes."

Angel paced his apartment nervously, his hands flexing unconsciously at his
sides as he moved, anxiously awaiting the fall of night. Exhaustion pulled
his shoulders into a slump and staggered his step slightly but he couldn't
rest, couldn't sleep for the images that paraded with merciless severity
through his mind.

Willow as a toddler, her beautiful coppery hair in two braids, staring out a
window at him with fearless acceptance. The night of her ninth birthday,
which her parents had missed, when she'd locked herself in her room and
cried till she made herself ill. The night when he'd gone to her house to
ask for her help and she'd told him she wasn't allowed boys in her room, his
vampiric state hardly impinging on her awareness. That had meant so much to
him, more than he understood at the time, since he still hadn't accepted his
feelings for her.

Then the other, darker images came, tormenting him with the knowledge of his
guilt, of his crimes. The smoothness of Willow's throat under his fingers,
her pulse throbbing frantically with fear, as he slowly tightened his hands
around her throat. Memories of stalking her nightly through the streets of
Sunnydale, staking his claim on her in front of her other vampires that
haunted the night. Finally, most damning of all, the image of her frail,
broken body lying on the blood stained sheets as her life drained slowly
away.

Collapsing onto his couch, ignoring the cloud of dust that surrounded him at
the impact, he buried his head in his hands. It wasn't just the images that
tormented him though; it was his memory of the pleasure he'd felt during
those encounters. That was the one thing that Buffy and the others had
never understood when they told him he wasn't responsible for the things
he'd done as Angelus. They didn't understand that, although he'd never have
done those things if he'd been control, he'd experienced every single one of
Angelus' twisted emotions and desires as those deeds had been done.

Until now he'd struggled to believe that it wasn't his fault, that the
others were right and he'd no control over what the demon had done in his
body. He'd done his best to make restitution for what he'd done, to atone,
but he no longer believed that it was possible.

Raising his head he turned his gaze blindly towards the heavily shuttered
windows, instinctively sensing where the sun would be in the sky. Four
hours, he judged, till he would be able to leave the apartment. Four hours
till he could go to the hospital and find out if the ambulance had gotten
there in time and Willow was still alive.

Leaning back against the couch he closed his eyes, deliberately tormenting
himself with the images playing out against his eyelids, and settled himself
to wait. Once night fell he'd go and check on Willow and then, he paused
and took a deep breath, then he'd do what he should have down years ago when
he first got his soul back. He'd wait till morning and greet the sun for
the first time in over two hundred years.

* * * *
"We received an emergency call from the Rosenburg residence last night, Mr
Giles." The stocky cop stated the apparent calmness in his words belied by
the black anger that lurked in his eyes. "Apparently made by Miss
Rosenburg's attacker…"

"What!" Giles interrupted, half rising from his seat before the female
officer's hand on his shoulder pressed him back into his seat. Shrugging
her hand off irritably he leaned forwards over the desk. "Something
happened to Willow? Is she alright?"

"She will be." Officer Drake snapped her anger more obvious in her clipped
tones than in those of her partners. "It might take a while but she will
be…relieved, Mr Giles?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Giles snapped, tugging anxiously
at his tie in a rare show of discomfort. "Willow's a student, she helps at
the library after class and in her spare time. Of course I'm relieved she's
going to be all right! She's a brilliant, sweet natured girl and I'd
naturally be distraught if anything happened to her!"

"Attractive too." Wilson murmured a dangerous edge to his voice, sorting
through the folder he'd brought into the room with him. Taking a color
photo out of the manila covers he slid it over the table towards the
tweed-clad librarian. A smiling girl, dark eyes sparkling with life and
good humor and her brilliant hair falling around her pale face, laughed up
incongruously at the three, grim faced adults. "Isn't she."

"She's a child." Giles' snapped, his face flushing in anger at the
suggestion and his English accent growing more pronounced as he spoke. "I
never…looked at her in that way."

"No? It's not unknown after all. An older man in a position of authority,
a pretty young girl." Drake murmured, picking up the photo to look at it
closer. "Did she flirt with you, Mr Giles? Was that it? Did she flirt
with you and then try and back out?"

"Of course not! Willow's not that…." Giles froze, the color draining from
his face as the import of the police officers questions sank into his mind.
Suddenly looking a lot older than his years he slumped back in his chair,
one hand raising to cover the lower half of his face. "Oh dear God. You
mean she was…assaulted."

"Raped." Wilson corrected firmly, pulling another photo out of the folder
and handing it over into the Librarian's shaking hand. "Yes. Not so pretty
now is she?"

Giles stared with a drowning sensation at the picture of Willow's battered
body, barely aware of the logical, Watcher side of his brain that took note
of the ravaged wounds in her neck. Nausea at what had been done to his
young protegee and rage at the being that perpetrated the crime warred
inside him as he set the photo down on the table.

He leaned forward, pressing the heels of his hands firmly against his eyes,
and just sat for a moment as he tried to regain control of himself. When he
finally looked up his eyes were black with grief and anger, intense enough
to make even the hardened cop opposite him take half a step backwards.

"And you think that I committed this…atrocity." He gestured towards the
picture, spitting the words out of his mouth as if they were filth. "That I
molested this child who was in my care!"

"The evidence points to someone she knows, Mr Giles." Officer Drake stated
her eyes not wavering from Giles although the anger had faded slightly from
her voice. "The apparent remorse that prompted the emergency call, her
refusal to name her attacker and her assailants knowledge that she was in
the house alone. Then there was Principal Snyders…"

"That misbegotten little son of a pig!" Giles snarled the words, pressing
his clenched fists into the tabletop in an attempt to control his temper.
"He'd let whoever did this get away just to anger me!"

"Well, if you didn't do it Mr Giles. Then who did?"

"Who indeed."

Giles muttered the words, lowering his gaze to the table as he fought the
urge to just spew out the truth and see how they'd react. Then he lowered
his gaze to the image of Willow's battered body again and used the anger he
felt to focus himself. He had to get out of here in order to kill Angelus.
His eyes flickered to picture again, something dark swimming in them as he
did so, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

"Buffy!" Xander yelled as he saw the blonde slayer heading away from him
across the hall. Hefting his bag onto his shoulder he headed after her,
pushing his way heedlessly through the crowds of teenagers that crowded the
halls. "Hey, Buffy! Hold on!"

"What is it, Xander?" Buffy asked listlessly, brushing her hair out of her
face with the back of her hand. "There's another new biology teacher?"

"No." Xander waved Buffy's weak joke away impatiently, his dark eyes wide a
mixture of shock and prurient curiosity. "This is serious, Buffy. There's
a rumor going around that Giles' was arrested this morning!"

"You're joking!" Buffy gasped, her bag dropping from her hand to land on
the tiled floor with a soft thud. "What for?"

"I don't know." Xander answered, scratching his head distractedly as he
glanced up and down the corridor. "Everyone's saying that there were this
two cops here early this morning, a big, burly guy and a blonde babe, and
they took Giles' away to…help with their inquiries."

"And...!" Buffy demanded impatiently, grabbing her bag from the floor in a
smooth motion. Grabbing Xander's arm she dragged him into the flow of
teenagers, the stream parting unasked in front of her as they saw the
troublemaker coming. "C'mon, Xander! You have to know more than that. Did
they arrest him? Is he still down at the station? Did he call a lawyer and
what was he charged with."

"I don't know!" Xander protested, trying to keep pace with the hurrying
slayer as the stream that had parted for her jostled and battered him in
passing. "Why don't you can ask him! He came back an hour ago."

Buffy stopped for a minute, turning a fulminating glance on her sheepish
looking companion, before muttering something unpleasant under her breath
and continuing on down the corridor.

"Well, I was going to tell you!" He protested defensively, wincing as a
particularly muscular football player decided to try and walk through him.
"You just didn't wait long enough for me to do it!"

"Fine, Xander, fine. Just come on till we find out what's going on!"
Buffy growled over her shoulder, turning a black scowl on the jock. As the
burly youth paled and backed away she turned back to Xander. "Now hurry
up!"

* * * *

"Giles!" Giles looked up from his preparations as Buffy burst into the
Library, glancing round anxiously as she tried to locate her Watcher.
"Giles are you here!"

Setting the loaded crossbow down on the desk in his office he stood up,
raking his fingers absently through his hair, and strode out into the main
library. Clenching his hands at his sides he stared at the two teenagers,
the anger that had been controlling him since he saw the pictures of Willow
dissolving as he tried to think of some way to tell Xander and Buffy what
had happened to their friend.

"Oh God, Giles!" Buffy cried, flinging her arms around her Watcher in
unabashed relief at finding him safe and well. "When Xander said you'd been
arrested I didn't know what to think!"

"Yeah, G-Man." Flopping down bonelessly into one of the hard backed Library
chairs Xander grinned at the uncomfortable looking Librarian, toying
absently with one of the discs that Willow had left behind. "What happened?
The cops find out about your secret stash of dope from your Ripper days?"

"N..no." Giles' stammered as he peeled Buffy away from him, rubbing his
hands over her shoulder in a soothing motion. "That's n..not why they
w..wanted to talk to me."

"So why…?"

"Please, Buffy. Seat down…just for a moment." He guided the anxious Slayer
over to a chair next to Xander's and waited till she sat down. Crouching
down beside her he rested a hand on her arm, glancing towards Xander as he
spoke. "The police wanted to talk to me about an…attack… on a young woman
that occurred last night. They're satisfied that I wasn't involved now
but…."

"Where's Willow!" Xander interrupted Giles, his voice high pitched and
strained with anger and unacknowledged fear. "She should be hearing
this…she's Research Girl after all!"

"Xander." Letting got of Buffy's hand Giles' pushed himself to his feet to
face the dark haired youth. He tried to keep his voice low and calming in
the face of Xander's agitation. "I'm afraid Willow was the girl attacked"

"No. No! You're wrong!" Shaking his head in violent denial Xander backed
away from Giles until the back of his thighs thudded into the sturdy table.
"They don't know it was her! It was someone else!"

"Is she…dead?" Buffy whispered, her eyes huge with shock and her hands white
knuckled on the arms of the chair. "Giles! Answer me!"

"No! She's not dead." Giles reassured them quickly, trying to coax Xander
into sitting down again. "She's in the hospital and the doctors say that
she'll make a full recovery."

"What happened to her?" Xander asked, his hands clenched into fists at his
sides, as he stared at Giles with cold eyes. "Was it him? Was it Dead
Boy?"

Giles hesitated for a moment, knowing the pain that his next words would
bring Buffy but he couldn’t lie to protect her from pain. Perhaps, he
thought bitterly to himself, this would finally prod her into facing the
duty she'd been avoiding.

"Yes." He stated baldly, ignoring the spasm of pain that crossed his
Slayer's face at his words. "Apparently he followed her home on Friday
night and broke into her house…She's been badly beaten and suffered massive
blood loss."

He hesitated, taking in the too adult pain in his young charges eyes, but he
knew he couldn’t protect them from the truth. Xander needed to know the
truth if he was to help Willow get over this and Buffy, Buffy needed to know
the depths of Angelus' depravity if she was ever going to muster the
emotional strength to face him.

"She was also, quite brutally, raped." He stated, retreating behind the
façade of the stuffy English librarian as he was forced to say the words
aloud. "According to the police he was extremely…enthusiastic."

"Oh God." Xander choked the words out, his eyes blank as he imagined his
childhood friend suffering the pain that Giles' described. Sinking down
into his seat he covered his face with his hands, anguished recriminations
eating away at his mind as he remembered blowing her off that night to go
and make out with Cordelia in the closet. His fingers tightened, digging
blunt cut nails into his scalp until they nearly broke the skin, as he
blamed himself for Willow's attack. "No, please don't let this have
happened. God, please…."

Buffy stared at Giles in dazed horror as he spat the words from his lips as
they tasted bitter on his tongue. The shock she felt was so intense that
she hardly even registered as Xander broke down in tears at her side. She
couldn't even process the idea of what had happened, she couldn't believe
that Angel would do that to poor Willow. At the back of her mind a little
voice, bitter and malignant, whispered it's own counsel into her mind.

Why would Angel want to do that to Willow? Why would he want her?

"How are you, Willow?"

Giles asked the slight red head gently as he perched hesitantly on the edge
of her bed and took her hand in his. He cradled the long fingered, pale hand
carefully between his, his eyes narrowing briefly as he saw the hand shaped
bruises that still ringed her wrists, and squeezed gently. She seemed to be
dealing well with what happened, almost back to the old Willow but for the
bruises and scrapes that marred her pale skin, but Giles wasn't as easily
fooled as Buffy and Xander seemed to be. For all her brave front and steady
words Willow had been badly hurt by the assault and, in all probability, she
was never going to be the same as she'd once been. Oh, she'd heal, in body
and in mind, but the changes would be there.

She reminded him of a glass statue of a human girl, still whole despite the
abuse she'd taken but breakable, dangerously fragile, and only waiting for
the next sharp knock before shattering into a hundred glistening shards.

"I'm doing OK." Willow assured him with a slow, slightly shaky, smile that
was belied by the trembling, clammy hand that he clasped. "The doctors say
that I'm nearly all better!"

"So you'll be going home soon?" Giles asked, a faint frown furrowing his
forehead at the thought of her going back to that lonely, empty house so
soon after the attack. It wasn't as if her parents could be depended on to
come home and keep an eye on her, the Rosenburgs had proven to be worse than
useless during this crisis, they'd hadn't even been back to see their only
daughter since the attack. Apparently, Giles' mouth tightened bitterly at
the remembered phone conversation, a work related emergency had put paid to
their hopes of getting home to see Willow. "Are you sure that's a good
idea? What if Angelus comes back?"

Giles cursed himself as he watched the blood drain from Willow's face, her
eyes huge and black in the wraithlike pallor of her face, at the mention of
Angelus' name. Her fingers tightened around his hand, nails digging briefly
into the skin, until she recovered control of herself.

"No, I'm not going back h…to the house." Brushing a strand of coppery hair
away from her face with her free hand Willow mustered a reassuring smile for
the worried looking Watcher. "I'm going to stay with my Aunt Renee, you
probably don't know her. She's…I mean, she was Jesse's mother."

"Ahhh." Giles murmured in faint surprise at the news, he hadn't realized
that Willow had remained so close to Jesse's family after his death, though
he supposed it was a good plan. Willow would be with someone who knew and
cared about her and in a house to which Angel hadn't been invited. "That's
good then. I don't think it'd be good for you to be alone just now."

An uncomfortable fell for a moment as Giles fought down the anger that
always swamped him at the mention of Angelus' name. When he'd finally
regained control of himself he looked up at Willow and chuckled softly. The
slender hacker looked as if she was about to fall asleep on the spot, her
eyes heavy lidded and glazed with the need for sleep, despite her valiant
attempts to fight it.

"I think it's time for me to leave." Giles' remarked as he got to his feet,
waving Willow's mumbled protests away with a gentle chuckle, and set her
hand down on the sheets. "You need your rest, Willow. I'll come and back
see you tomorrow with Xander and Buffy, all right?"

"OK." Willow agreed reluctantly as she snuggled down into the bed and
scowled sleepily at her visitor. "I just seem to sleep all the time."

"That's an aftereffect of bloodless and shock." Giles pointed out gently*
as he pulled the sheets up to her chin and tucked them in. He hesitated,
looking down at her wan, pinched face as she closed her eyes, and then
lifted the bag he'd carried in earlier. Taking out the plush stuffed
penguin he'd bought her in the toy store earlier he settled it into the
pillow next to her cheek. "Sleep well, Willow."

Brushing a strand of coppery hair away from her face with a gentle hand he
turned and left the room quietly. As the door closed behind him Willow
opened her eyes, dark pits that swam with tears in her pallid face, and
slowly pushed herself upright in bed. With no-one there to watch her she
didn't bother to try and hide the pain she felt as she moved, pain in her
neck and between her legs, and she sank her teeth into her lower lip.

She lifted the stuffed penguin that Giles had given with exquisite care, as
if afraid it would break between her hands, and regarded it's beaming,
comical face for a moment. Then the tears overflowed her eyes and she
doubled over, clutching the penguin to her chest, and sobbed pitifully and
brokenly until the tears wouldn't come any more.

* * * *
"Willow."

The deep voice insinuated itself into Willow's tranquilized and slumbering
mind, sending stabs of terror through her slight body, and she struggled
back towards wakefulness. The dreams had been common enough since that
night that she suspected nothing out of the ordinary. Trying to shake the
cotton wool swaddling of the drugs out of her mind Willow rubbed at her eyes
and struggled into a sitting position in the bed.

To the figure crouched by the side of the bed the childish gesture was
almost painfully poignant as Willow rubbed her eyes with the backs of her
hands. He should have left, he knew that, he should have left before dawn
came now that he knew she was alright. His presence here, after what he had
done, could only cause her pain and that was the last thing he wanted to do.
Yet he hadn't been able to tear himself away from her bedside, instead he'd
crouched at her side for hours and just watched her sleep, and now it was
nearly dawn.

"W..who's there?" Willow's voice shook as she spoke, terror rapidly burning
the drugs out of her system as she realized that there was someone in the
room with her, and she groped frantically for the emergency button by her
bedside. "G..go away! P…please? The n..nurses…!"

"It's alright, Willow. It's me, Angel." As Willow froze in place, only a
terrified whimper escaping her lips, Angel cursed himself for a fool. As
if she would find that reassuring after what he'd done to her? Reaching out
he laid his cold hand on her arm, a worried frown furrowing her brow as he
realized that the slightly trembling arm was little warmer than his own room
temperature body, and rubbed gently at her skin. "Angel not Angelus. I
swear Willow, I'll never do anything to hurt you ever again."

"A…angel?" Willow stammered, the paralysis slowly leaving her body as the
meaning of the softly spoken words sank into her brain, and she reached out
and slapped the light switch. As the room filled with bright light she
flinched, closing her eyes briefly against the sudden brilliance, and then
stared at the figure kneeling by the bed. Despite the sudden terror that
filled her as she saw his face, the same handsome face that had haunted her
nights since he'd raped her, she didn't for a minute doubt that it really
was Angel sitting in front of her. The misery etched on his features, the
slumped shoulders and the pain filled eyes were all things that Angelus, the
soul-less monster couldn't mimic. Tears filled her eyes as she stared at
him, of pain and joy intermingled, and she reached out to brush her fingers
over his face. At the last minute, just as she was about to touch him, the
vision of Angelus' gloating face filled her mind and she flinched back
involuntarily. The pain in Angel's eyes hurt her but she still couldn't
make herself move her hand those last few millimeters that would complete
the contact, curling her fingers into her palm instead and pulling her hand
back. "Is it…Is it really you? What happened to Ang…Ange…him?"

"He's dead…gone forever." Angel assured her as he pushed himself to his
feet and backed away from the bed. He turned his head blindly towards the
window, sensing the rising sun that would be shining straight at her window
at his moment, and rested his hand against the blinds. "He won't ever hurt
you again, Willow. I just wanted you to know that. And now….neither will
I."

"ANGEL!" Willow screamed, trying to order her still sluggish limbs to obey
her commands and fling herself at the vampire standing in front of the
window. The few, weak rays of sunlight that filtered through the slatted
blinds had already burnt and blistered his pale skin. Unfortunately her
body, still weak from her injuries and sluggish from the drugs, refused to
do as she wanted and she was forced to resort to pleading. "No! Don't do
this! Is this supposed to help me, Angel? Watching you killing yourself in
front of me? What is it, some form of radical new therapy?"

"It's for the best." Angel told her, resisting the urge to cross the room
and comfort Willow as he saw the tears tracing a slow path down her cheeks,
as he began opening the blinds with a simple twist of his wrist. "This way
Angelus can never come back."

"Don't, please, I need you, Angel!"

"What can you…ahhh…possibly need from…me?" Angel asked as his mouth twisted
in pain as the sun started to scour the flesh from his bones.
"Except….my…death!"

"I'm PREGNANT!" Willow half screamed, her hands white knuckled on her bed
clothes, as she nearly fell out of bed. Sobs escaped her lips, of
helplessness and pain, as she watched her friend burn. "I'm going to have a
baby!"


Angel's hand dropped from the blinds, falling to his side with a thud, as he
stared at the sobbing girl. For a moment he was frozen in place and then,
with vampiric speed, he crossed the room. Kneeling by the bed he drew her
weakly sobbing form into his arms, smoothing the dark red hair down with a
wondering hand, as he whispered soothing words into her ear.