shadow4



	Title: Shadow of Dreams Part 4 Name: Anastasia Email: Charlie1@acay.com.au Rating: R Classification: Willow/Angel Disclaimer: I own none, Joss does. I just borrowed a facsimile of them to play with and for public humilation! Feedback: Would be appreciated. Authors Notes: Another short part. * Angel made his way back to the office through the late night crowds of partygoers. The laptop, jeans and jacket, the only things he took with him from Willow's hotel room, were all hidden beneath the vast folds of his own coat. Pushing open the doors of the office he walked toward the stairs that led down to his apartment. Doyle's soft brogue drifted up to him, he listened waiting for Willow to reply to the silly questions being asked. There was nothing but the sound of her ragged breathing. As he walked down the stairs he paused briefly at the base of the stairs watching as Doyle continued to ask nonsense questions and stroke the damp hair of the still unconscious redhead. "No change then?" he asked hopefully, taking her few items from his coat and laying them down on a chair. Doyle jumped off the bed in surprise. "Jesus, I wish you'd make some noise mate. No, she's still...well wherever it is she's at." Angel looked at the shadow of a girl lying on his bed, so tiny and fragile, her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He reached out and cupped her clammy face, she was starting to burn up again, and parts of the t-shirt were already darkening with sweat. Sitting down beside her still figure he let out a soft sigh of despair. "Go home Doyle. Call Cordelia in the morning tell her to take the week off." Doyle glanced at the items on the chair before turning his attention back to the couple on the bed. Leaning against the wall, he thought for a moment. He wasn't too happy about this girl and Angel's silence. Sure his boss was one of the most uncommunicative people he knew but there was something else going on here. He'd noticed the rapidly darkening bruising that marked her neck and wrist, and closer inspection showed more finger shaped bruising on her upper arm - he knew that she had struggled against Angel, perhaps even tried to run, which made her little more than Angel's prisoner, even if she did need help. Her physical appearance and condition did nothing to ease his discomfort over the situation, in short she was one fucked up little kid and then there was her reported psychological torment. "I'm not leaving, you'll need help," he stated determinedly. "I don't need your help, I can handle this by myself." "By yourself? How do you see that? I mean what's really going on here?" Doyle clenched his jaw in frustration as Angel remained quiet, his attention fully focused on the little redhead. "The bruising, Angel. How'd she get it?" Angel shifted uncomfortably on the bed, the slight action confirming Doyle's fears that he had been the cause of it. "Yeah, great way to help, try and strangle the girl," Doyle shook his head. "I had no choice." "No choice? What she wouldn't listen to you so you decided violence was a good alternative?" "This is not your concern so stay out of it." "No, no it isn't my concern man, not when you go all psycho over some little junkie you use to know...you know flowers are the traditional way to show someone you care..." Angel suddenly moving off the bed, looming above his slight form cut off Doyle. "Willow saved me, restored my soul, she risked everything to do that. I...Angelus could've so easily destroyed her, yet he didn't, so I won't standby and let drugs or dreams or whatever the hell is going on with her do it now. Even if that means keeping her chained to me for the rest of her natural life." Doyle gawked for a moment, partially shocked by Angel's words and emotions, but more so from the determined pained expression on his face and the flashes of gold that highlighted his eyes as he spoke. Blinking a few times Doyle held Angel's gaze. "Well that's going to make for an interesting, or should I say arresting, life." "At least it will be a life," Angel stated. Doyle raised his eyebrows in a mocking question of 'will it?'. A soft whimper from the bed drew Angel's attention back to Willow. Sitting down he felt her forehead and frowned at the ever-rising temperature. "Go home Doyle, ring Cordy, both of you take the week off." "No way man," Doyle was becoming unnerved by Angel's obsessive behaviour toward the girl. Sure Angel had been "protective" of his clients, even having them sleep at his apartment for their own safety, but never to this extent. Mentally Doyle shook himself, this girl was an old friend of Angel's, someone he held in high regard and it was obvious she needed help. But that did nothing to help the feeling of unease that was building in him at the moment. She had been unwilling, Angel had overpowered her, what if she woke up and wanted to leave? What if Angel lost even more control? The various scenarios played through Doyle's mind as he watched Angel fetch a wet cloth from the bathroom and sponge her sweat-covered face. "No, you need help...and don't try to convince me otherwise. I can be errand boy; I mean do you have anything here suitable for her to eat? No, so food, what else will we need?" Doyle began to pace the room, soothing his disturbed thoughts with the sound of his ramblings. * "Come on, Willow, wake up for me." "No, don't listen to him." Willow fought to stay in the comfort of the dark place she was in. "Wake up Willow, your safe now." "It's a dream stay asleep and the nightmare will go away." "I won't let anything hurt you Willow, come on wake up for me." "He'll hurt you, he has before. Remember what he's done?" "Willow, come on," a cool hand cupped her face, the physical sensation dragging her into that world, away from the safety of the darkness that had comforted her. She fought it, struggled against the hand on her face, against the voice that was urging her to come into his world. "No," she kept her eyes closed and turned her head away from the cool hand. "Willow, that's it, wake up." "What are you waking up too?" The hand found her face again, another held her hand, and she struggled to keep her eyes shut, uncertain of what she would see. "Is she awake?" it was a soft Irish voice, similar to the voices she had heard so many times before, similar to the voice of Angelus when he was younger. "Willow." There was his voice again, so soft, so enticing, urging her into his world. Briefly her eyes fluttered open, settling for a moment on dark chocolate brown orbs that were so hauntingly familiar to her. "No, please no," she whispered shutting her eyes again, trying to desperately head back to the quiet darkness that she had been drawn out of. "Come on Willow, come back to me." Willow, he'd called her Willow. What was this, what was going on? As his hand continued to stroke her face her body responded, joining her mind in leaving the darkness that had protected her. She ached all over. It hurt to breathe, her lungs burning with every struggling breath she took, her arm and stomach throbbed, and there was a blinding pain behind her closed eyes. This was how she often woke up to reality, her body aching, her head throbbing. "Willow," it was Angel calling her name. Slowly she opened her eyes, taking in a deep breath, her lungs screaming in agony. She twisted her head, her eyes focusing on him. The face hadn't changed at all, dark eyes, pale skin, a dark mass of spiky hair, but his features wore a mask of concern, his eyes full of anguish. Blinking a few times she glanced away from him and took in her surroundings. A softly lit room, brick walls, foreign and strange. Her eyes fell on a little man with dark hair and stunning blue eyes that were fixed on her. "Willow," Angel called to her softly, drawing her eyes back to his. She swallowed, pain marring her face at the action. He turned to Doyle. "Get some water." "Angel?" her voice was barely audible, a harsh and scratchy whisper, but music to his ears. Turning back to her he smiled. Her eyes widened in fear and she panicked, trying to scramble away from him. "Angelus!" "Willow," he called his arms snaking around her body, stilling her movements, lifting her up off the pillows. Her whole body trembled. "Willow, it's ok, it's me Angel." "Angel?" she sobbed against his shoulder, her body still shaking in fear, adrenaline fuelled blood pounding through her system. "It's okay, Willow, you're safe now," Angel held her, trying to soothe her fears, rocking her gently in his arms. As she choked on sobs, she began to cough. "Shhh, it's okay, you're safe. Shhh." "Angel? Is she okay?" Doyle walked back in carrying a glass of water. Angel pulled her away from his shoulder, his hands cupped her flushed face, forcing her to look at him. "Willow, who am I?" She struggled to break free of his hold, twisting against his hands, closing her eyes, refusing to look at him. She bought her hands up to pull at his arms, her eyes flying open when she touched his cool flesh. "Willow," he shook her lightly, holding her gaze. "Who am I?" "A...A...Angel," she hiccupped painfully. Angel closed his eyes in relief, she recognised him, acknowledged who he was. That was a start. He released her face, one hand snaking around to hold the nape of her neck. She was looking wildly about the room, gasping for breath. "Willow, look at me," Angel demanded. "Where are you?" "I...I...I was in LA?" she questioned, gulping in air, her lungs burning, causing her to cough again. Angel caught her chin and tilted her head back. "Why are you in LA," he asked after she stopped coughing. "Angel," Doyle held out the glass of water to him. Sighing Angel gathered Willow back into his arms, she struggled half-heartedly bawling her hands into fists against his chest before he shushed her and took the water from Doyle, holding it up to her lips. "Take a little bit," he urged her gently. As she sipped her body continued to shake uncontrollably in his arms, her lungs rattling with every breath. He managed to get her to drink the whole glass and handed it back to Doyle. Running his fingers through her hair he rocked her against him, trying to still her trembling body. "Why are you in LA?" "I...I don't know...I can sleep here," she murmured as he continued to rock her, lulling her back into the darkness. "Are you going?" "What?" Angel asked, not understanding the question. "I think she wants to know if you're going to leave?" offered Doyle, frowning at the insignificance of the question. "I'm not going to leave you, Willow. I'll be here when you wake up," he cupped her face, his thumb tracing her prominent cheekbone, she was already asleep. "So," Doyle let the word hang in the eerie silence of the room and put the empty glass down on the bedside table, watching as Angel continued to rock Willow. "What now?" "We wait," Angel sighed, letting his fingers run through her tangled hair. "She called you Angelus," Doyle stated. "She was disorientated," Angel made the excuse, although it had disturbed him. He needed a distraction; so he could gather his thoughts, think about what she had said. Was it all merely drug and fever induced ramblings? He didn't know and he didn't realise he was still cradling her sleeping form. "Did you call Cordy?" "Ah, no," Doyle stated picking up the bedside phone and dialling her number. "Cordy, how are you?" She didn't know why she had come to LA. What had she said about being able to sleep? What did that mean. Angel brushed her sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. "Yeah, what? No it's not that early...of course I know what time it is...well I wanted to catch you before you headed off...a shower...dripping water all over the floor...I'm sorry, I've got to know, are you naked?" She had called him Angelus; her eyes had filled with fear, more than he had ever thought her capable of. She was scared of him, of Angelus. Closing his eyes a thousand images flashed through that darkness, the eyes of those he had tortured for his own fun, and his demon growled. Strange, that was the first he'd been aware of his demon for the last few days. Shaking his head he looked down at the tiny girl in his arms. "Well I had to ask...naked and shower generally go together...no that's not why I called...I'm getting to it...no that's just it, take the week off...no, with full pay..." Send her away. It was a thought that came from the demon and he shook his head. Of course the demon would say that, she had been the one to cage him, given him back his soul. "Nothings going on...nah Angel just needs to catch up on his brooding, he's heard about a new technique...yeah, ok...so, do you need someone to scrub your back? Hello? Cordy? Hello?" You can't help her; send her back to her friends, far away from here. Angel frowned, his demon was whispering, quietly putting forward the suggestion. Usually the demon screamed his demands, rattled his cage and fought hard and dirty. Not this quiet prodding. He tightened his grip on the sleeping girl. "She stays here," he growled. Doyle looked up at him. "Yeah, yeah, we've been through that...she stays," Doyle tilted his head and watched as Angel stroked the tangled red hair. "Well Cordy won't be in till next week." Angel nodded, staring absently at Willow, the brief conversation running through his mind. Sighing he eased her back down onto the pillows, reluctantly surrendering his hold on her. Cupping her face he was surprised to find it cooler, moving he took hold of one of her hands, again it was cool. He leant down and grabbed a light blanket from the foot of the bed and pulled it up over her. Reluctantly he stood up and motioned for Doyle to follow him to the kitchen.