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Title: The Retrieval (1/?)
Part Two of the Summons Series, Sequel to 'The Elsewhere'
Author: Morgan R.
Email: Lshallot@juno.com
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Angel visits Sunnydale to help w/stuff
Spoilers: Season 4 spoilers
Feedback: Love some
Disclaimer: The words are mine, Sunnydale and its residents (present and
former) are the property of Joss & Co.
Note: You guys didn't really think I was done, did you?
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"Giles, I'm worried about her. She's so detached."
"Does she refuse to talk about it?"
"She just denies that there's anything to talk about. But I've never
seen her like this..."
The object of their discussion sat outside in the courtyard of Giles'
building, staring up at the sky. She didn't hear a word. She just
stared up into the heavens, her blank eyes awash with stars as she
remembered evenings on the battlements, his strong, warm hands wrapped
about her waist as they taught their children about the constellations.
Jesse had invented his own stories about the celestial shapes. He always
loved it when his mother wore her diamond coronet because it looked like
it was made of his precious stars. His own wife had always worn diamonds
for him-
She pulled her eyes down. Here was the present, here was her world. The
hard surface of the chair. The row of mailboxes, and no queen would ever
stay here.
Unless she was not a queen, and her memories had never existed.
"Willow?"
She turned her face up to the square of light, and a friend stood in the
door, outlined in black against the glow. "Are you coming in?"
She stood without the swish of skirts, and she walked without the burden
of a crown. She was free and young, but she had never valued anything so
much as that particular matrimonial confinement.
Except that her husband was dead, and worse, he had not called, and she
slowly went inside.
****
The hiss of his silver blade was all he could hear at night. He wore no
armor other than his blank, dark mask, and every demon was his father
again, and he killed them all.
But when he lay in the quiet, trying to remember how to sleep all alone,
he was the one who died. He would write love letters in his mind, he
whispered into the darkness, trying to craft epistles to a wife who no
longer belonged to him. Every one fell short, every word was a failure.
He could make no apologies, he could make no promises. He had nothing to
give.
Every possible consolation was withheld- no more sunrises to bask in, no
more favorite foods to seek out. His children did not come to him for
advice, and his grandchildren did not giggle when he produced treats out
of thin air.
As for her-
Delicate hands of a lady running through his hair, and her serenely
beautiful royal countenance, melted away. He would have killed to get
them back, to bring her back- but he killed every night, and she never
appeared. He had no wife, and no brother. He was rootless, and belonged
to no country or people. Generations of loved ones had dissolved away
before he could stop anything. Unparalleled anguish.
As it was, the most that he could do was to try and spread that anguish
out- let creatures he despised feel his rage, killing being all he was
interested in anymore.
****
Willow sat silently, the hum of the conversation swirling around her as
her eyes stared towards some distant point. She didn't catch the worried
glances, the helpless shrugs. She sat with her back straight, her hands
spread out gracefully on the arms of her chair. She sat as she had been
used to sitting for decades, in a throne made of gold. She sat regally
without effort. She sat alone, but that part broke her heart every day.
Willow looked up as Buffy rested her hand on her arm. "Willow?"
She forced herself to undo her training as a queen, to remember what
being a teenager was supposed to be like- abandon the dignified smile-
try not to look superior-
"Yes, Buffy?" For the first time in a long time she looked into her
friend's eyes, and those eyes were on the verge of filling with tears of
concern.
"Willow, you're not yourself. Did something happen in LA?"
Willow ached at the truest words she had heard since Angel last said he
loved her. Not herself, no, she was not herself. She was someone else
stuck in her own body, she was a woman and a mother and a grandmother and
a monarch and a person completely in love and she was forbidden all of
those things- no, she was not herself.
"Nothing happened in LA." Another truth. Absolutely nothing happened in
that city. Her world had been turned upside down somewhere else, in a
small kingdom with a fiercely loyal populace and a warm hearted king she
adored-
"You sure?"
Willow looked up at Buffy before she remembered to mask the pain, to hide
the loss somewhere in the depths of her aged gaze, and her friend stifled
an exclamation. "Oh, Willow, there has to be something I can do to help
you!"
But the royal eyes were well bred blanks once more, and she shook her
head without a word.
The door burst open, and Spike ran in with muttered curses. "Ready to
kill, Slayer?"
"What is it, Spike?" Giles asked.
"Nensilek demons. Lots of them."
Giles cursed then. "What stage?"
"Still hatching."
Giles grabbed one of the books on his desk. "That gives us a few hours,
then. Which means we can call Angel, because we will definitely need his
help."
If anyone had thought to notice, it was remarkable how similar the
expression on her face was to that on Buffy's. "Is it that bad?"
Giles looked grimly apologetic. "I'm afraid so. In fact, you might want
to go to Willy's- see if there are any demons there who can fight."
Buffy looked at him in confusion. "Why would any demons help me fight
other demons?"
"Because these are Nensilek demons, and it is in everyone's best
interest, demon and human, if they are wiped out before morning comes.
I'll call Angel."
Buffy walked out without another word, and Willow remained frozen in her
chair.
The king was on his way...
****
Angel stepped out of his car with a staggering reluctance. He looked up
at Giles' house, his eyes dark and enigmatic.
He could feel them both. He could feel Buffy, his blonde goddess of so
many years, the golden girl he had worshipped without ever dreaming she
would return the favor.
But even more strongly, for the first time in this world, he felt Willow-
his queen, his sweetheart, his strength. And while the love he had
shared with Buffy had been tempestuous and exquisite in its
impossibility, he had shared his life with Willow. He had shared years
with her, they had pledged their lives to one another. She had borne his
children, she had watched him grow old with a tender smile on her face.
With halting, difficult, footsteps, he walked towards both of them.
****
As soon as she heard the car pull up outside, Buffy gripped Willow's arm
tightly. "Will, he's here-"
Willow turned her face away, determined to maintain her composure. It
was a queen's duty to never show weakness.
Buffy turned to her. "Willow, Giles is going to make us hunt this thing
in pairs. Could you go with Angel?"
Blank green eyes answered her.
"I mean, Xander will be more interested in insulting him than killing
demons, and Giles has to go alone to do the ritual, and I just thought
that you wouldn't mind. Because I just can't walk around with him, and
this is me begging you-"
There's his knock on the door, keep your face frozen, Willow, don't let
the heartbreak show.
Angel had arrived.
****
It was like a reunion, only without the joy. Angel and Willow were
hunting together without a word. Their weapons were hardly as dangerous
as the memories they were carrying.
They had already killed fourteen hatchlings before a single thing was
said. Willow had been thrown to the ground as they fought the last
demon, and Angel quickly dispatched it before coming over to her side and
helping her stand.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
She had promised herself that she would maintain her composure, but there
were too many factors at work. His hand was still at her elbow, and his
voice was as beautiful as she remembered. Then she looked up at him, and
even a second of eye contact was too much. Their marriage had been
founded in beautiful honesty- how could she learn to lie to him now?
Was she okay?
"No," she whispered.
The tears came then, unbidden and unwanted and inattentive to all of her
crumbling self control. They slipped down her cheeks as she shook her
head, knowing that all her good intentions were just so much futility.
His hand released her elbow, only to travel upward, and he brushed away
the tears on her cheeks with the familiar tenderness she sometimes
fancied she had imagined. A light breeze dried her face a bit more, and
she cursed herself for a fool as she brought her own hand to clasp at his
wrist.
He sighed in despair and relief. "Willow, do you...?"
The question went unfinished, if only because there were too many
possible endings. Did she remember? Blame him? Miss him? Want to see
her children and friends? Long for his kisses? Wish it had never
happened? Dream about the world they had lost? Break again every day he
didn't appear?
Did she still love him?
"Yes."
The wind blew stronger, when memory suddenly lashed into her. "Angel-
the wind-"
But the sentence was not to be completed, because a sight too familiar
appeared. Black void, whether floating three feet away or lurking in her
heart- pulsing, reaching, taking-
And then they were gone in a whirlwind of disappearing.
****
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Willow was reluctant to wake fully, because she was entirely content to
lie where she was. She hadn't yet opened her eyes, but there were
strong, masculine arms wrapped around her waist, and she knew Sunnydale
was far away. All those months of pining for Angel, and now here she
was, entangled with him in the old, familiar way.
Well, not exactly familiar. The body pressed against her back was not
precisely how she remembered Angel feeling, but it had been some time,
decades, even, since she had known his young body intimately. She
realized that she had to make allowances for her less than infallible
memory. His smell was not what she had known for so long, but there were
innumerable reasons why that could have changed.
She tried to ignore her growing concern as she slowly opened her eyes.
She froze.
She was not in the palace.
She had no idea where she was, actually, but it was certainly not the
royal bedchamber she had been missing for so long. The walls were a
smooth, almost luminescent pearl grey, from what she could see in the
semidarkness. And there was something else there- set in the unnaturally
uniform wall-
A computer console.
It was with an almost crippling dread that she slowly looked down at the
arms still holding her close-
The arms covered in blond hair.
She groaned.
Hey, Tiger- you awake?"
She turned over, and with her eyes almost completely adjusted to the
darkness, she looked into the eyes of a man she had never seen before in
her life- either of them.
****
She couldn't shield the horror in her eyes quickly enough for him to
avoid noticing it, but he just laughed.
"Don't tell me you're still opposed to that nickname. I could call you
Willow, I suppose- but it seems so formal."
"Formal?"
"You know- that's your name when you do business. I feel like you need
a different sort of name for when we do...different business."
One of his hands trailed down her back as he leered at her, and she had
to prevent herself from shuddering.
"So, if you had to guess, what would you say your husband is doing right
now?"
Willow almost started crying. She was an adulteress?
Her day was deteriorating quickly.
"I have no idea," she said, all too honestly.
He grinned, showing a mouth full of straight, white teeth. "What, the
almighty Angel doesn't share his daily itinerary with his wife?"
Yes, quite a bad day.
She was cheating on Angel?!
She shook her head weakly, whether to the idea or the question, she
wouldn't have been able to say.
"I should go." She sat up with the sheet pulled tightly around her. She
did have clothes, right?
He sighed. "Well, if you must. I can call you a cab."
"Where are my clothes?" she asked, hoping it was a question with an
answer.
"I believe we abandoned them right next to the front door- in our hurry,
you could say. Sit tight, I'll get them for you."
She averted her eyes from his nudity as he left the room. As he crossed
the threshold, he muttered, "Lights," and Willow could suddenly see the
room in an oddly uniform illumination.
"Oh, wow," she whispered.
She was immediately reminded of the time Buffy had defeated Moloch- the
building where Willow had been dragged by the demon had been filled with
every sort of computer she could imagine. This- man's room looked much
the same. The computer console she had seen before was one of several,
and an enormous screen of some sort covered most of one wall. Buttons
glowed, digits ran across one of the smaller screens, and Willow wondered
where, exactly, she was.
****
Waiting for her...ahem...companion to return with her clothes, Willow
wondered if she was going to be wearing some sort of futuristic jumpsuit-
an idea that would only seem to be more logical when a small robot came
in with her clothing. She didn't know if she would have preferred it or
not, when she finally put on the clothing that was 'hers'. The long,
tight dress was made of some sort of material she had never felt before-
some sort of green fabric that hugged her not only like a second skin,
but like it was trying to displace her first skin.
Considering her surroundings, she had fully expected her taxi to be some
sort of Jetson's-esque hovercraft- so she blinked a few times when a
horse drawn carriage pulled up in front of her blond 'friend's' building.
She reflected with a very small amount of amusement that it was
certainly odd that she had lain in his bed completely naked, but she had
no idea what his name was- nor any idea how to ask him.
He helped her up into the carriage, thankfully giving the cabbie
directions for her.
"Will I be seeing you soon?" he asked with a smile.
"That remains to be seen," she remarked.
He laughed. "See you, Tiger."
She nodded, and the carriage pulled away into the street.
"Does your horse have a name?" she asked the cabbie.
He gave her an odd look.
"It's an SE730 model, ma'am."
Well, of course.
****
As the carriage moved through the strange and flawless street, Willow
could feel her eyes growing wider and wider. The buildings were all made
of the same shiny gray material that she couldn't identify. Even odder,
the few people they passed on the street bowed to her. The first time it
happened, she thought it was strange, the second time, she thought it was
slightly alarming. The third time she was wondering, even more than
ever, who she was.
The buildings grew larger and larger as they drove along. She had to
make a mental effort to close her mouth when the cabbie stopped in front
of a building so extensive, she couldn't see where it ended.
"G'night, ma'am," the cabbie said with a smile as he helped her down.
She realized she had no money, but as she turned to explain, he pulled
away into the street.
"Okay, no paying of cabbies." With a small shrug, she turned towards the
entrance of the building she could only describe as a mansion. She was
wondering if there was some sort of key she would need to get inside when
the door was opened by a dark haired woman.
"Good evening, ma'am."
With a gloved hand, she gestured inside. Willow looked at her in
amazement, but followed her direction. She looked around discreetly,
noticing the vastness of the entryway- along with it's total lack of
ornamentation. It was as gray as the rest of her new world.
"Did you wish to dine, ma'am, or are you ready to retire?"
"No, I'm not hungry. I'd like to rest. But- please- before I do, what
time is it?"
"I believe it is about 39, ma'am."
Willow nodded slowly. "Of course."
"Is there anything else I can get for you?"
Willow really didn't want anything other than an explanation, but she had
to figure out some way to get the woman to show her the location of her
room.
"Actually, I would like- um- a glass of wine?" she asked, an edge of
desperation in her voice.
The woman gestured to a nearby servant, and that servant dashed out of
the room. "It will be brought up to you presently, ma'am."
Willow shook her head. "No, I'll wait for him to bring it."
The woman looked slightly surprised. "Of course, as you wish, ma'am."
The young man with a glass of wine on a tray returned in record time.
When he saw Willow still standing there, he hesitated, confusion on his
young face.
"I'll follow you up," Willow said in a voice that she hoped sounded
slightly superior and extremely bored.
He glanced at the housekeeper, who gave him a fierce nod.
"Yes, ma'am," he murmured, before smoothly turning towards a blank wall.
Willow did her best not to jump when the wall opened up to reveal an
elevator, and stepped in behind him.
****
She had dismissed the servant upon reaching the door to her room, and he
had disappeared into the grey surroundings as quickly as possible.
Clutching a glass of wine that she did not want, she stepped into her
bedroom.
What struck her first was that here, finally, was someplace with color
other than gray..
In fact, everything was green. Not many shades of green- everything was
precisely the same green, the dark, smooth green of her dress. Setting
the wine down on a green table, she examined the room. Everything was
beautiful and clean- it looked as if no one had ever entered the room
before her. She glanced at the green settee, the green velvet drapes
covering the windows, the green sculptures. There were, however, a few
things that were not green. One was the huge screen covering one wall.
The other was a full length mirror.
Willow walked toward it warily. She blushed at her appearance in the
dress, and was alarmed to see how short her hair was. As a princess, her
hair had been past her waist- in Sunnydale it had been much shorter, but
still about chin length. Now, her hair, still the bright red she was
used to, was cropped close to her head, laying in smooth lines around her
face. Her eyes were lined in dark makeup, still slightly smudged from
her recent sleep.
And her face, though still lovely, had the faintest of lines. Cruel
lines, lines of a face that had not been happy or even kind any time
recently.
She turned away quickly, not wanting to see herself looking that way.
Her eyes landed on the screen, and she decided to see what, exactly she
could find out.
"Computer?" she asked, wondering if it would work.
The screen glowed as it came to life, and she sat down on the sofa as a
voice spoke.
"What can I do for you, Willow?"
****
A few hours later, Willow was much more educated, and infinitely more
depressed. Because knowing who she was turned out to be a lot worse than
having no clue.
Known in public circles only as 'Willow' and occasionally, 'The Willow',
she was a figure of great prominence on the planet she inhabited, a
planet known as Gevaltiel, named for the man who discovered it. The
planet had no atmosphere, no water, and no native organisms of any kind.
What Gevaltiel did have was Gevaltium, en element discovered by the same
intrepid explorer of years gone by. Gevaltium's uses were many, but it
was most valued as a substance for building. It's shiny gray surface,
once treated with the proper chemicals, was impervious to anything humans
had yet been able to create, and it was incredibly versatile. Offplanet,
only the most obscenely rich citizens could afford to build with
Gevaltium. Onplanet, even the slums were built with the stuff- but only
the owners of the mines made any money from its sales.
Gevaltiel was an affront to democracy and human decency with regards to
its rigid class system, but the demand for Gevaltium was too great to
stop mining it, so the planet's leaders and the mine owners- in essence,
robber barons of a new era- were allowed to continue their shameful
practices of what was basically slavery. There were the miners, and
there were the mine owners.
Of course, being rich and powerful isn't quite as much fun if you can't
flaunt it constantly, and despite the thousands of dependable robots and
androids all over the planet, no self-respecting mine owner would ever
keep electronic servants. Certain members of the detested 'miner' class
were elevated, however slightly, to act as slaves in domestic capacities
for the small group of people who ruled the planet.
The rulers of the planet were not, however, a group of nouveau riche
entrepreneurs. They were a complicated aristocracy, descended from the
very first inhabitants of the planet. Their money, their power, and
their incredible superiority rivalled any that had ever existed on The
First Planet, a place Willow would have called Earth. Yet their way of
life did not depend on codes of royalty, because they were first and
foremost men and women of business. An old name could do nothing to
salvage a crumbling organization. There were no loyalties and no
promises were ever kept. Adultery was a political weapon, and being
attractive could be as useful as belonging to the right family. The
system was cutthroat, it was difficult to understand, and it was almost
impossible to break into from the outside.
Willow had, of course, done just that.
The commonly accepted theory was that she had been born offplanet, but no
one knew for certain. What was known was that she had appeared on the
scene at a tender sixteen, buying a small, defunct mine from a crushed
man leaving the planet. The mine, deemed worthless by professional
prospectors, had been considered a waste of time. Willow, however,
disagreed, and within two weeks of her purchase, her mine was suddenly
found to be generating as much Gevaltium as it had when it was first
discovered fifty years earlier. She became richer every day- but money
was not what she had been seeking on the planet. She had sought out
power, and she had found it using the one weapon she valued as highly as
her intelligence-
Her body.
Some called her a prostitute, but she crushed them in short order. She
was young, she was beautiful, and sex was one of the few weaknesses of
most men of business. She clouded their normally shrewd business acumen,
she took their money and their mines, and she did it without a blush for
four years.
She was twenty years old when she met Angel for the first time.
Rivals would be too weak a word to describe their relationship. They had
detested each other from the first time they laid eyes on one another.
He was a descendant of Leon Gevaltiel himself, and she was nothing more
than 'an intergalactic hussy'- or so he claimed in one of his
well-publicized press conferences. For the next two years, they did
their best to wipe each other out. She seduced and destroyed his
friends, he sabotaged her mining operations, and it had been apparent to
the entire planet that they had reached a stalemate.
Which is when they got married.
The planet watched in shock as they combined their forces, their money,
and their living arrangements, and together, they ruled the highest
strata of business on the planet- some even said in the universe. They
hated each other and admitted it in public with a sickening regularity,
but they had succeeded in essentially owning the richest commerce ever
seen in history.
Willow watched the vidscreen with horror as she was introduced to
herself. She watched herself pursue man after man, without any scrap of
shame- because, of course, it was all on public record. She saw her
marriage, the mocking hate in Angel's eyes, the bored sensuality in hers,
as she flirted with every man except her husband.
Berating herself for the past few months of regrets, she fell asleep on
the couch, wondering why she had allowed herself to be so ungrateful for
her life in Sunnydale. She hadn't been a queen, but-
At least she hadn't been a glorified whore.
****
Some sort of movement was dragging Angel out of sleep. Some sort of
gentle, not so innocent touch. A pressure trailing down his chest, down
his leg-
He woke up with a jerk, his eyes widening as he saw a young woman
crouched beside him. Her black hair fell around her shoulders, and the
smile on her face spoke so strongly of seduction that he knew he needed
to escape, and quickly.
He sat up, carefully disentangling his leg from her hand, trying to get a
look at his surroundings. He was sitting on a leather couch in what
looked like an office. He noticed gray walls, a large desk, lots of
blinking buttons in the walls and her hand had returned.
He stood up and walked over to the desk, wondering what had ever happened
to maidenly shyness...
"You've been asleep for quite a while, Angel. What could have worn you
out so completely?"
There were implications in her voice that he winced to think about, and
she didn't seem at all put out by his cold behavior- both bad things. He
shook his head wearily. He had taken one stab at optimism, and hoped
this new journey would somehow effect a reunion with Willow- and here was
this minx instead.
"Well, although I am loath to return to your business, as your personal
assistant, it is indeed my duty to inform you that The Willow bought your
uncle's number one mine today. He's furious, and worse, losing status."
Angel looked at her in confusion. The Willow? What sort of title was
that? And where was Willow, anyway? Who was she here?
"He wants to know why exactly you married her if not to have a hand in
her business affairs, since you have no part in any other affairs of
hers- that's a direct quote. He wants to see you as soon as possible."
Angel nodded, as if he had a clue what she was talking about. "Anything
else?"
Her pretty face took on a cattier expression as she nodded. "Sugar
called- she wanted to thank you for last night."
"Sugar?"
She laughed. "Well, don't tell me your lovely and...talented mistress is
that forgettable! Considering the amount of money you have staked on
your latest business deal with her, I suggest you don't let her find
out."
Angel nodded absently. What was going on? It sounded like he was
married to Willow, but cheating on her with every woman he knew, and she
was treating him the same way. She would certainly be delighted with
their new situation.
"Some novice reporter tried nosing around your processing facilities.
He's been shipped offplanet already, but your head of security thought
you'd like to know it was taken care of."
"Where did they send him?"
"Oh, Locke didn't say. Just some planet with well-enforced slavery laws,
he said. I think it's safe to say that when he reaches his destination,
he won't be writing any news articles for awhile."
Angel shuddered. His companion mistook the gesture.
"Don't worry about it- he didn't get close to any of your confidential
stuff. Locke would never let that happen."
"I'm sure he wouldn't."
"So, that's all I have to tell you. As regards business, anyway..." Her
hand was trailing a path up his back, and he shook his head wearily.
Angel had grown accustomed to the frequent efforts of women attempting to
seduce him a long time ago. Even before he was turned, he was well aware
of the devastating effect he had on the opposite sex. The knowledge had
only grown with the passage of time.
His recent situation, however, had altered his perspective somewhat.
After Buffy, he had not only been uninterested, he had been terrified of
even entertaining the notion of any sort of dalliance. And then
Willow...
Well, decades of monogamous bliss with a wonderful wife had only
emphasized his reluctance to deal with other women. He walked out of her
reach, attempting nonchalance, but barely managing denseness. He put the
large desk in between them, ignored her piqued look, and shuffled a
random sheaf of papers laying on the polished surface.
"I'm going to go over these," he informed her, not looking up.
"Fine. I'll be outside if you...want me."
Did the girl ever give up? Apparently not, he decided, as her shapely
hips sashayed out of the room.
He collapsed into the desk chair. It wouldn't do him any harm to
actually read the papers, and he needed something to do until he could
figure out how to contact Willow. Picking them up, he thanked providence
that they were at least in English, and he settled down to read.
****
Rubbing his bleary eyes, he leaned his head against the back of his
chair. What was going on? Why did he have file after file of reports
from detectives and investigators- all about his wife? What was he
trying to find?
And who was she really?
From the reports he had been going through, it seemed that Willow's story
of arriving on Gevaltium was a cover, a fiction created by the wily
teenaged girl years ago. What had she been hiding, after all? Why had
no one looked into it until now?
And more importantly, what had made him start looking after their
marriage, rather than before?
He needed to find Willow as quickly as possible. Gathering the files
together, he walked out of his office and into the grey hallway. His
assistant smiled up at him from her desk. "Would you like me to have a
cab waiting for you at the door?"
He nodded absently. Now, how to find that door...
****
Angel had been as alarmed by the cab ride as Willow, but he was well used
to guarding his expression. Upon entering the mansion, he had nodded to
the housekeeper.
"Where is my wife?"
A flash of alarm showed in her eyes, and he grimly realized that in this
world, his meetings with Willow were rare and almost certainly
unpleasant.
He followed the skittish footman, still holding onto the reports,
wondering if everything on the godforsaken planet was grey.
His escort stopped abruptly, then bowed as he gestured to the door. "She
has been in there for a few hours, my lord."
Angel dismissed him with a nod, then walked inside the room.
Without consciously realizing that it had once more become a necessity,
he caught his breath. It was as if he had stepped inside an emerald.
Every surface was the same, deep green. Except-
Except for his wife, sleeping on the green couch.
He walked over to her slowly, the joy of seeing her washing over his
tired senses. He noticed her shortened hair, her unhappy mouth. He saw
how tired she was, how discontented, and all that from watching her
sleep. Every tiny detail Alaric had ever known- none of it had been
lost, through time or distance. As her husband once more, he could read
her more clearly than words.
His hand moved slowly, skimming over the strangely smooth material of her
sleeve. She stirred, but did not wake. Ever so gently, his fingertips
whispered across the pale skin of her neck, gliding upwards, until her
round jaw was enveloped by his palm. That small amount of contact was
almost too much, and he closed his eyes as raw pleasure thrilled through
his nerve endings.
He could feel her senses beginning to register his presence, he could
feel her beginning to wake. He opened his eyes, and he saw her mouth
part in some silent plea.
When her gaze hit him, tired and bewildered and ecstatic, he almost fell
over.
"Angel?" she whispered.
"Rough day?" he asked, a fraction of a smile resting momentarily on his
lips.
She moaned, and the vibration from the sound travelled through his hand.
"This is a terrible, terrible world. We aren't among friends here, not
like before. Everyone seems so cold."
The words jarred with the fever in him, and he arched an eyebrow.
"Well, everyone besides us," she muttered with a blush. "What are we
going to do? We're supposed to hate each other, Angel!"
"You think that will be difficult?"
"Oh, Angel." It was a terrifying thing to do, but she dropped every
mask. The studied nonchalance of youth, the courtly elegance of a queen,
the dispirited blank cover of loneliness. Every polite lie of expression
fell away until her eyes contained only Willow, only pain, only love.
She was exposed, vulnerable.
She was crushed into him, his hands trembling as he pulled her close.
"Willow, I am so, so sorry."
"Angel, it wasn't your fault-"
"No, I should have done something. I should have called you or
something-"
"To say what? Nothing could be done about it. I knew that."
He pulled back far enough to be able to look into her eyes. Less pain,
it was healing every moment-
"It was just so easy to let myself deteriorate. If I had just one
person, I might have been able to handle it better. But to lose
everything- my husband, my kingdom, my family, my life. One time I saw a
little boy in the park- oh, Angel, he looked so much like Jesse. I sat
down and cried. I mean, we assumed our roles, we gave our lives, and
discovered it to be worth the trade. But to be traded back- I think I
simply lost myself in the transfer."
"Or maybe I kept you. Because you were there with me- every time I
closed my eyes, Willow. You were alive and laughing and perfect, and in
my dreams we always found ways to be together. Then I would wake, and
you would melt away, and Cordelia would run downstairs because I was
screaming."
She ran her hands through his hair, smoothing out the torment with her
perfectly remembered touch.
"Well, I don't like this world, and I don't like our alleged
relationship. I've been doing some research about us- not pretty," she
grimaced.
"So have I," he added.
"We should probably compare notes, figure everything out."
"Mmm-hmm."
The descent of his mouth was too slow, and she raised herself up to meet
him halfway. In the grey-rimmed green of her room, they kissed with
desparate familiarity.
****
If you were to ask anyone over the age of, say, forty, whether or not
they would want to live their life over again, chances are you would be
answered with hysterical laughter. Once the more tumultuous years have
been left behind, there are few people who feel even the most shallow
urges to regain them. Beyond the allure of bright hair and smooth skin,
the specter of perpetual confusion looms, and the perilous emotional
landscape of youth is rarely missed by its escapees.
But what if-
What if the strong arms of your vanished prince were holding you close?
What if your slender neck was bathed in warm breath?
What if you were loved?
Even the stateliest of queens might accept raw youth under such
circumstances. And a king might not regret a lost kingdom if his beloved
was returned. He might forget every obligation at the smell of her, he
might lose his pain with just one completely pure kiss.
It wasn't so much beginning again as it was remembering, reshaping,
rediscovering. Coming home in the center of a completely alien world.
****
They were watching the vidscreen archives together, limbs tangled, sated
smiles fading as they delved into their corruption. His new self was as
cold as she was vile, and the evil they had perpetrated couldn't be
described in words they knew. He shuddered as he watched the hard green
eyes of his wife, and she turned cold when she saw his tender mouth
sneering at the world.
"Screen off," she said suddenly, her voice stiff with distaste. They sat
silently for a moment longer, humiliation still washing like waves as the
images played in their minds. The elegance of a royal couple lay
shattered, and something foul had taken its place in great haste.
"Look at me," Angel whispered hoarsely. She turned her head, and he
sighed with relief. "I needed to see your eyes, see them warm and lively.
See your eyes, not that woman's."
She nodded. "But therein lies the dilemma. If there is a palpable
difference between us, someone will notice. We could hardly have found
anyone who less resembled us, in any of our previous personas. And on
this planet, I don't think it's very good to begin acting radically
different all of a sudden. That sort of thing could result in dire
consequences."
"You're right," he agreed. "But it will be hard. I mean, do you think you
can- you can-"
"Hate you?" She grimaced. "I don't know. I don't know if I can play a
part for that long."
"Oh really, Aurelia?"
She smiled as she smacked his shoulder. "That was different."
"Different how?"
"Well...I was allowed to love you."
He looked at her for a long moment, and he would have kissed her if they
hadn't heard the sound of her outer door opening.
"Mistress? Would you like your breakfast brought into you?"
Their eyes met in confused horror. There was no Marie to smile fondly
upon them here, and to be caught in the act of loving when hatred was so
obviously in order- well, it would destroy their cover in their new
bodies and their new names.
"Just a moment!" Willow's panic made her sound as forceful as the woman
she was supposed to be. "Angel, get dressed, now!" she hissed.
"What about you?" he asked, pulling his shirt over his head.
"Don't worry about it- just hurry-"
He had just buttoned his pants when the housekeeper walked in with a
tray, her jaw dropping as she saw her furious mistress glaring at her
husband with a sheet wrapped around her chest.
"How dare you! My business associates are none of your affair!" Her eyes
were as cold as the ones she had watched on the screen all morning, and
her husband's smirk was as nasty as any soulless vampire's.
"Beg pardon, my dear, but since our business interests have been united,
I think I should have some say in who you choose to 'deal' with."
She arched an eyebrow coolly. "Really? Well, you thought wrong. You come
in here still smelling like that tramp Sugar, reeking of sex and looking
like trash, and you have the gall to ask me whose bed I was sharing last
night? I don't ask who you spend your time with, as long as it isn't me,
so get out. Now." She turned to look at the appalled woman who was trying
to retreat out of the room, holding out a hand to halt her. "Don't leave-
are there eggs? I want some eggs."
Angel shook his head furiously. "Forget about the eggs, darling, I wasn't
done talking to you. That gigolo you have the gall to call your business
associate has been after my offplanet holdings for years, and you are
just the opportunity he's been looking for."
"Opportunity? Darling husband of mine, you flatter me with your lavish
praise. Isn't it possible that he wants me for my charm, my beauty, my
astounding sexual prowess? Or, more importantly, my offplanet holdings.
But don't answer that question before you answer another- which gigolo?"
He paused, looking at her in slight confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I mean which one? Which one of the men with access to my body were you
talking about? It's not as if I can keep track of them all by something
so mercenary as their business goals. My secretary keeps track of all
that sort of thing. I need a name, sweetheart. Or hair color, at the very
least."
His haughty face was frozen with disgust as he surveyed her like a piece
of meat. "You are such a whore."
She grinned wolfishly as she attacked her plate of food with a fork.
"That's right. But you leave out the all-important word 'successful,'
which negates the word 'whore' and constitutes the reason you married me.
Besides, perhaps you should rethink your choice of names to call me. If I
were so dependent on sex, then don't you think I might have touched you,
husband dear? No, you know all too well how much alike we are, so don't
give me your aristocratic moralizing this early in the morning. Now, are
you going to leave, or do I need to resort to drastic measures?"
"Like what?"
The grapefruit knife imbedded itself in the wall a foot away from his
head, and she smiled sweetly. "Next one's in your eye. You were the one
to accuse me of a distinct lack of morals, so it can hardly surprise you
that I should have no qualms about pelting you with sharp objects. One of
my many skills, I assure you."
He nodded, his frigid smirk in place once more. "Charming. If you won't
get rid of him by tomorrow, I will. It's really up to you, which you
should enjoy, since the semblance of control is so important to you.
Perhaps I should point out that my methods when it comes to disposal are
a little harsher than your requisite cold bed and closed legs, so decide
whether or not you want him to stay pretty."
He stalked out, and Willow looked up at the housekeeper who was still
standing next to her bed. "So nice to have him at home, isn't it? He's
such a splendid addition to the household. Honestly, didn't he agree to
leave me to my own devices once we were married? I would appreciate it if
he would fulfill his half of the bargain."
"Oh, madam-"
Willow looked up at her companion, her green eyes wiped clean of any
emotion other than slight irritation. "Is something the matter? If it is
a household difficulty, I am sure you will handle it excellently. If it
has to do with me, I suggest you put it out of your mind. I know how to
deal with Angel, so don't worry about that. By the way, these eggs are
excellent. Thank you so much for bringing them."
The dark haired woman just shook her head sadly. "If I may be so bold as
to say- that is, to mention- well, It is a shame to see that nothing has
changed between you two, even after all this time. Good day, madam." With
a curtsy, she backed out the door.
Willow dropped her fork from her trembling hand and fell back against her
green pillows. The thrill of success felt much more like a wave of
nausea, and she fought to keep herself from shedding any more tears.
****
"You ready?" Angel asked, his eyes shadowed in the interior of the closed
carriage.
"I guess so. There's just one thing," Willow replied.
"What?"
His question was answered as she kissed him fleetingly, holding his hand
tightly in her own. "Here goes," she whispered into his cheek. "Let's
get ugly."
When the carriage door opened, Angel and his wife were sitting as far
away from one another as the plush seat would allow. His face was a mask
of boredom, while her eyes were positively glittering with unpleasant
anticipation.
"After you, darling." He motioned with his hand for her to exit, turning
the endearment into an insult with his own brand of flair.
"Just like always," she threw back, her mouth twisting in what some might
have called a smile.
The servant who had opened the door looked between them nervously, but
offered his hand to help Willow down. "My lady, watch your step,
please."
She smiled even wider at that. "I always do."
Angel followed, surveying her with a critical eye as the servant bowed
and backed away. "I say, if your business pursuits weren't confined to
mining, you should definitely turn shopkeeper. Your ability to display
your wares is unparalleled, I'm sure." He gestured at the low neckline
of her clinging green gown, his eyes travelling further down to the slit
that few women would have the gall to wear.
She grinned, delicately perching her fingers on his outstretched forearm.
"And you, dear husband, could be a fashion advisor. You know, your
constant perusal of my clothing would make me wonder about your sexual
orientation, if it weren't for the trail of doxies parading in and out of
your bedroom. Or perhaps you're in deep denial about the whole thing.
Could that be it?"
They were mounting the stairs into a large mansion made of the same grey
Gevaltium as every other building on the planet. Angel chuckled dryly at
her question. "My charming wife, I really think you are the last person
to question anyone else about their sexual tastes. You seem to have
none, considering the sort of men you are willing to sleep with. Ah, and
here is our host, perhaps one of the few men on the planet whose bed you
have never visited. Hello, Father."
"Well, that doesn't mean he hasn't visited mine, now does it? Good
evening, dear Daddy-in-law." Willow curtsied, causing the view to become
even more impressive. Angel's father, a gruff, large man named Burne,
harumphed at the sight of his son's wife.
"Willow. Angel. Son, could I have a word with you for a moment? I'm
sure you'll excuse us, won't you Willow?"
Releasing Angel's arm, she was immediately surrounded by some of her most
loyal admirers and potential clients. "Certainly, Burne. But don't be
too hard on him. All things considered, Sugar isn't the stupidest
mistress he's ever had."
Angel rolled his eyes, muttering a curse as he followed his father down
one of the many grey hallways. Willow paid little attention to her
escorts as they ushered her into the main ballroom.
****
The evening was going fairly well, all things considered. The one
benefit about being implanted in such an unpleasant personality was that
she had no friends to insult, and her uniformly insolent manner was
actually part of her success rather than a hindrance in social circles.
The blank stare that met so many ingratiating smiles during the party was
already beginning to bring about most interesting results. If The Willow
had forgotten who you were, then you needed to work harder to please her.
The ruder she became, the more her influence grew, and it didn't take
long for her to become the focal point of almost every person attending
the party.
Angel had returned from his private discussion with his father after
about fifteen minutes, but Willow judged it better to keep her distance
and make rude remarks about him than to actually be seen speaking with
him. She was proven right while listening to the sycophantic ramblings
of a man sitting near her. After one of her barbed comments (aimed at
Angel's hair, in fact), he laughed. "I say, Dear Willow, we were all
rather surprised that the two of you arrived together. We wouldn't want
Gevaltiel's brightest star actually falling in love with her husband, now
would we? It would be too shocking, really. It's a relief to hear that
things have not changed between you two."
"Oh, well, don't you know why we came together? We need to start saving
money. You never know when disaster might strike, and two carriages
would really be an unnecessary expense."
She enjoyed the appalled silence for a few moments before laughing. "Oh,
I'm joking with you. If it were anyone's home but his father's, we
wouldn't have bothered, but the old man has expressed an interest in
seeing our marriage improve. I think he's senile, personally, and have
suggested that Angel have him shipped offplanet. Who needs to keep
meddling at that age? But Angel, you know, being as stuffy and old
fashioned as he is, won't hear of it. Family ties and all that rot.
Still, I thought it could be amusing to arrive together. Wouldn't want
you taking it for granted that my husband repulses me, now could I?"
Her companion smiled suggestively, and she suppressed the desire to slap
his handsome face. Instead, she smiled brightly and simply walked away,
leaving him staring after her.
As she walked across the dance floor in search of anything that wouldn't
be as boring as someone begging for political, financial or sexual
favors, she suddenly heard a breaking glass followed by a female cry off
to her left. She looked over, only to see a richly dressed woman
striking a servant.
Hurrying over, Willow heard the end of the woman's tirade as the young
girl cowered on the floor. "...worthless trollop! So carrying a glass
of wine is too difficult for you, is it? Well then, perhaps domestic
service is simply above your capabilities. I suppose you'll find mining
more to your liking, then."
"No- no, please," the girl whispered from the floor, her honey blonde
hair covering her face.
The woman, dressed in a red material that looked something like velvet,
kicked her side viciously. "I don't have to put up with clumsy servants!
You are good for nothing but mining, and probably not even that.
Fortunately, life in the mines will probably kill you before long."
Willow finally snapped. She knelt down next to the girl, helping her up.
"Come on, there you go. Don't cry."
Everyone exchanged incredulous looks which Willow ignored, but she could
not miss the infuriated look on the nasty woman's flushed face. "Excuse
me, Willow, but what do you think you are doing?"
A furious, neo-socialist tirade was on the tip of Willow's tongue when
Angel's silky voice interrupted her: "Yes, dear wife, what DO you think
you are doing?"
She turned to look at his face, and the warning look in his otherwise
cold eyes snapped her out of her anger and back into her role. She
needed some sort of explanation, and quickly, if the whispers spreading
through the room were any indication. Fortunately, it was at that moment
that she realized she knew who the woman in red was.
Her look of concern melted into a hard mask of triumph, and she laughed.
"Well, Angel, surely you know all about my special love for dear Ruby
here. For several years I have been looking to do her a good turn, and I
think taking her servant off her hands is just the thing. Save her the
trouble and expense of transporting the girl out to her mine, and in
return I get a slightly clumsy waiting woman who just happens to know
certain details about the architecture of Ruby's house."
Ruby was shaking her head vehemently. "No, no! You shall not have her
for that!"
Willow looked at her innocently, despite the contradictory messages of
her seductive emerald dress. "For what, Ruby? I'm merely assisting you
in ridding yourself of a mediocre servant! Surely you cannot take issue
with that. I'm helping you! As a...friend."
Her glittering eyes were anything but friendly, but Ruby's companions
were melting away without a backward glance. "Can't anyone stop her?!
That's my servant!"
Willow smirked. "You just fired her. I don't think I need to remind
you, Ruby, that we take human rights very seriously on this planet. I'm
a little disappointed that you pay so little heed to this girl's
feelings." A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd at that. The
Willow's cutting wit was almost as famous as her other accomplishments,
not to mention her notorious disdain for the servant class. That her
hand was still draped around the trembling girl's shoulders spoke volumes
about her rivalry with Ruby, a successful businesswoman and ex-mistress
of Angel's.
Angel, in fact, was Ruby's last chance. "Angel, come now. Convince the
little woman to leave the girl to me. Willow doesn't want her. Help
me!"
Ruby had apparently forgotten the reasons for the end of their
relationship, but Angel's blank stare reminded her quickly enough.
"Ruby, my marriage with Willow is a business venture. You know that. I
may not trust her sense of honor, or even her good taste, but her skill
in acquisitions is unparalleled. If she wants to employ the girl, then
why should you object?"
Ruby backed away, her hands shaking at her sides. "You can't do this to
me. The two of you, out to get me, I won't let you-"
"Oh, dry up, Ruby," Willow cut her off with a wave of her hand. "Lose
gracefully. Or at least quietly, for goodness' sake."
Burne stepped up, glowering at his son and his spouse. "Now, Ruby, why
don't you come with me. Angel, Willow, thank you for coming. As
always."
"What an old thundercloud of a man," Willow laughed after his retreating
back. Angel hardly seemed amused at her comment, but he refrained from
saying anything.
Turning to the frightened girl at her side, Willow longed to let her in
on the joke, to tell her it was all an act. Of course, doing so in the
midst of a large crowd was hardly advisable, so she just jerked her head
towards the exit. "Come on, doll. It's time for us to leave."
With her new servant and Angel following, Willow swept out of the
ballroom. Every eye was on her lithe, green figure as she exited, and
for a moment, she felt like a queen again.
****
