Author: Kendra A
Summary: Willow and Angel are star-crossed lovers destined to be together throughout time. It’s confusing, I suck at summaries, so just read.
Rating: PG-13, maybe mild R for implied sex and rape.
Status: Part I (finished) in the Forever Trilogy (unfinished). I keep trying to work on the rest, and I have the whole thing planned out, but I'm a lazy bum. Sorry.
Feedback: Feedback to me is like chocolate to Buffy. I sure as Hell don't deserve it, but I love it and indulge in it as much as possible. PLEASE send feedback.
A month later
They were under the oak tree in the meadow. It was a quiet afternoon in late spring. They were lying in the grass, her head on his chest, his hand stroking her hair.
A breeze blew quietly around them, like a guardian making sure they were all right. Then it left, and it was just the two of them.
Willow stirred on his chest. "Liam?" she said tentatively.
"Yes, love?" His hand wandered to her cheek. She rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows.
"Two things."
"All right," he said. "What’s the first?"
"You’ve my name," she said, a bit muddled with her own thoughts. "I mean, my name makes me yours, but your name isn’t mine… you see?"
"I see," he answered, a little amused.
"Can I give you a name? One that only I call you?" The breeze returned, gently ruffling her hair and the transparent sleeves of her rose-colored dress.
"Of course," he said. "You can do anything."
"Mmm," she said, smiling at him. "You were like a guardian angel," she said,as if to herself. Maybe it was to herself. "You found me and loved me despite what he did, and I’ve lived with you for the past month—which brings us, early, to thing two, which we’ll neglect again for the moment," she added. They were both silent for a while. "This is a little silly," she said finally, "though no sillier than Pixie or Willow." She paused, and he waited.
"Tell me," he prodded gently.
"Can I call you Angel?" she asked.
"Of course," he said.
She smiled and leaned down to him, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. He stretched up towards her for a moment, and then pulled her down to him, holding her against his chest with gentle arms. He felt her smiling into his mouth, and then she was whispering something against his lips:
"I love you, my Angel…"
The emotion that filled his heart was pure elation. "My Willow," he murmured as he kissed his way down her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "My Callieach, my Pixie—mine…"
She was his, he was hers. They loved each other till the end of time, had loved each other for centuries, loved each other now…
They loved each other under the oak tree, and the breeze guarded them and they were hidden from sight.
* * *
They were lying like they had been before—her head on his chest, him stroking her hair—but now it was special, because it was perfect. They were perfect.
Willow sighed in contentment against his bare chest, and her warm breath tickled him and he smiled.
"What was the second thing?" he asked after a while.
"Hmmm?"
"What was the second thing?"
She smiled and sat up. The sleeves of the shirt she wore—his shirt—were far too long, and the neckline came down far too low, but neither of them cared.
Willow lifted a hand, palm up, into the air, and squinted her eyes. Slowly, a golden light appeared in her palm, and she tossed her hand like she was tossing a ball into the air, and the light flew up and then began to rotate around the two of them and their tree.
Angel had watched this in a kind of awe, but he laughed as the ball of light turned in joyful circles, and the sound made Willow happy. "Do you see, Angel?" she asked with a laugh in her voice. "Isn’t it lovely?"
"You’re lovelier," he said playfully. Willow raised an eyebrow and the ball bonked him gently on the head.
"But do you know what else I can do?" Willow asked. She had a secret, and she was going to tell him.
He folded his arms behind his head for a pillow.
"I can create a world," she said, not waiting for him to answer. "I can create a world right here, that’s just like this one, but it’ll just be for you and me…"
"Stay here," Angel said, suddenly worried. He didn’t want to leave this world.
"You don’t understand," she said anxiously. "Only you and I could open this world. I can live here without fear of him finding me, and you can come to visit me every day, and we can be together! This will be perfect, Angel," she continued, trying to make him see. "It will be warm, like this, all year round. I can live here without fear. The breeze can’t hide us from the world forever…"
She stared at him, her eyes big and pleading. She was begging him, she was showing him all her love in this one moment. So of course he said yes.
Half a year later
Angel walked to the oak tree and discreetly looked around. Then he spoke a single word and walked forward.
Instead of banging his nose into the trunk of the tree, he walked into Willow’s home.
It was spring there, not October. The meadow was lush and green, and the air was warm. Willow’s breeze came up to greet him, and it swirled around him several times until she herself came to him for a hug.
"Will you draw more today?" she asked hopefully.
"Of course," Angel said with a smile, and bent to kiss her. She now had to stand on tiptoe to reach him, and a year before she’d been taller than he had.
"Where’s my drawing pad and pencils?" he asked when she drew away.
She held out her hands and conjured them to her. "Right here."
* * *
Outside their peaceful little world, William stood, listening to their every word.
The next night
Angel was roused from slumber by a heavy hand pressing against his mouth to stop him from making any noise. "Hey there, laddie," an unfamiliar voice said. "You’re coming with me."
Something cold was pressed to his throat, and it was a dagger. Angel had no choice but to quietly leave his house with the stranger.
He was taken to the oak tree in the meadow. As the man had led him there, his dread had grown worse, and now he was nearly sick with it. Finally, the oak truly came into view, and what he saw terrified him.
Willow—his Willow—was tied to the tree with rope. This rope looked to be stolen from a ship of some kind, for it was thick and heavy, and she couldn’t get away, despite her struggles.
In front of her stood William, who found it amusing to grope her in various places quite randomly, and make her scream every time he did.
He had several men, who were scrambling about, collecting wood and putting it under Willow’s feet. The pile grew higher and higher until she was up to her knees in kindling.
Kindling.
They were going to burn her.
"Nooooooo!" Angel’s cry was anguished, like a wolf’s. William turned to him and smiled wickedly.
"But, my dear fellow, she’s a witch, is this one," he said, chucking her under the chin.
"She’s not," Angel protested.
"Master Liam, dear lad, listen to me, why don’t you," William said calmly. "We’ve all seen her do magic—which is strictly unChristian, and therefore devil-work."
"She’s your sister!" Angel cried desperately.
"No devil like this is a sister of mine," William said, his face darkening with rage. "Siobhan, darling, look who’s here."
Willow slowly turned her head, and when she saw Angel, she began to cry. "No, no, no…" Her voice was quiet but thick with tears. "Don’t make him watch this…"
"It’s his duty," William said, his voice dripping with saccharine. He turned to one of his men. "Light the wood…"
The last thing Angel saw Willow do was to yank her ring from around her neck and throw it away.
The last thing Angel heard her say was, "Claddagh."
And then, as the flames leapt up around her, mercifully quick, "Claddagh" again, and a last, "I love you, Angel."