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.
*It was a Monday when my lover told me*
The next day, Liam woke with his hands immersed in ashes from a bonfire. He blinked a couple of time, clearing sleep and dried tears from his eyes, and then he remembered.
He remembered everything in a flash of sadness, and then he remembered one last, extremely important thing.
His Willow had given him her ring, and it was safely locked away in their world, if only he could find it.
That was the last thing she had done for him. The ring and his drawing pad would be the last he had of her.
*Never pay the Reaper with love only*
Wearily, he dragged himself to his feet and looked around him.
Since it was October, the leaves on the oak tree had fallen, or were crisp and dry, so the tree had easily caught fire. Nearly seven of the happiest years of his life had been spent in that tree or near it, and it made him cry a bit more just for the loss of it.
*What could I say to you
Except "I love you"...*
Then he stopped.
Willow’s world had been based on the tree. Would it still be there?
Panicked, he scrambled over to where the trunk of the tree had been and quietly said the password. "Claddagh."
The little portal opened. It was weak and barely noticeable, and the edges were trembling, but the door to Willow’s home was there, and that was what counted.
Liam gingerly stepped in and looked around.
*...And I’d give my life for yours*
Far from the beautiful, warm place it had been the day before, the meadow in the other world was cold, desolate, and bare. The breeze didn’t greet him; instead a harsh wind swirled about his calves like a skulking wolf.
Liam stood shocked for a moment, and then dropped to his hands and knees and began to search for the glint of silver that would be Willow’s claddagh ring. He nearly didn’t see it—it had tumbled under a rock hidden by some dry, grayish stalks of grass, but it was there, just as the world he was in was, and he slipped it on his finger as he breathed a sigh of relief.
*I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear*
Now to find the pad. This was even more important to him—a manservant his family had hired a long time ago had taught him to sketch a little, and Liam had taught himself even more. He had filled endless sheets of paper with sketches of trees, of flowers, of people.
And he had a leather-bound book filled with loose pages of Willow.
Of her sleeping, smiling, holding flowers, making magic ball of light...
*Remember the time we made
Love in the roses...*
Of her climbing the tree, of her in her boys’ clothes, of her lying in the grass, arms outstretched, beckoning to him...
*...And you took my picture
In all sorts of poses?*
Liam found his drawing pad under a dead tree.
The strange thing was, it was lying in ashes.
*How could I ever get over you
When I’d give my life for yours...*
He gently sat down next to it, leaning against the harsh bark of the tree, and looked through all of his drawings.
*I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear
My dear...*
He found several of his favorites—Willow had had a little trick that he called her ‘Pixie Face’. When she was feeling especially content or happy, a complex design of green and gold would appear, as if from her eyes and eyebrows, and curl along her cheeks. She was even more beautiful than she’d ever been that way, and he had countless pictures of her.
*It’s time to say,
"Thank God for you"
I thank God for you
In each and every single way...*
Liam found himself crying as he looked through all of the sketches, and quickly wiped away the tears, so as to not ruin the drawings. He rubbed a last hand across his eyes and stood, sketch pad in hand, and left Willow’s dying home for the last time.
*I know
It’s time to let you know
Time to sit here and say...*
It took him quite a while to find the way out, because the door was rapidly flickering out, and the world around him was fading. Finally he found the little portal and leapt through. It closed forever once he was out, and he stood and looked at the place where the tree had been for nearly an hour before he went home.
Then he would go to the pub. He needed, very badly, to drown his sorrows.
*I know we are, we are the lucky ones...*
Liam practically lived at the bar, forgetting the love of his life with the help of spicy beer. His father cursed at him and withheld his money, knowing his son would drink it away; so Liam stole the silverware.
He made a friend, Brandon, who drank with him a lot of the time and who lent him money once in a while.
*I know we are, we are the lucky ones...*
One night, when he had just turned twenty, three years after Willow had died, he went to the local brothel for the first time with Brandon. To his surprise, who should be there but Beth?
And so he cheerfully visited Beth every night for the next six years.
The one thing he truly adored was his little sister, Calleigh. She reminded him of the kind of child a beautiful woman he once knew, he couldn’t quite remember her name, might have loved to have...
*I know we are, we are the lucky ones...*
His last night alive was not something to remember.
He’d gotten a little more drunk thank usual, and stumbled, almost blind with drink, with Brandon, to the brothel.
They’d had an argument, and that had gotten into a full-fledged fight, involving some other lads in the brothel, and then he’d seen her.
*I know we are, we are the lucky ones dear, dear,
We are the lucky ones dear, dear...*
She was sitting in the corner, amusedly watching the brawl, and then she locked eyes with him. She was blonde with pretty little ringlets, and he’d never seen her before.
Her smile was innocent, and it reminded him of somebody he’d loved once...
*We are the lucky ones dear, dear*
...So he followed her out of the pub.
Her name was Darla. She wasn’t from around here, and she needed an escort home.
This twanged a hidden memory from deep inside somewhere, from where Darla seemed a little familiar, but he ignored it and leaned forward to her, eyes closed...and she bit him, and fed him blood, and made him powerful.
*We are the lucky ones, dear*
He called himself Angelus, and part of that name was from that cache of memories that he could never fully access.
*We are the lucky ones, dear*
He made a girl, frightened of her power, but beautiful and innocent, one of his kind. She reminded him of someone, but he wasn’t sure who.
He captured a boy named William. He didn’t have a particular grudge against him, but the name made him angry somehow, but Drusilla took him and loved him and made him hers, and this made what-was-once-Liam angrier than he had ever known he could be.
*We are the lucky ones, dear...*
So you see, no matter what he became, Liam never quite forgot.
THE END