Part 27

Willow continued to gape at him for some time. Angelus wasn’t quite sure what to do next. He’d intended to take his cue from her, but she wasn’t giving one.

The waiter brought her dessert and Angelus asked him to put it in a box to go, and gave him his credit card. Once the check was squared away, he’d get Willow to the car.

Angelus drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. He didn’t have any idea what was going through Willow’s mind. He wished he had an inkling as to whether it was positive or negative. Blank stares weren’t very informative. He cleared his throat, “Sweetheart? In a moment I’m going to pay the dinner bill, and then we’ll go. Clearly, you’re shocked by what I said. I’m sure you just need a moment to process it.” No response. Hell. He hadn’t known what to expect, but catatonia certainly wasn’t it. He patted her hand. “Okay, Willow?”

She cocked her head at him and nodded once. “Okay.”

Well, that was something, at least, he thought with cautious optimism. The waiter returned and they concluded their business. Angelus was grateful when the sympathetic young man discreetly indicated an exit door nearby—and was glad that he’d left a generous tip.

When Angelus pulled her chair back, Willow rose like an automaton and picked up her dessert and evening bag. He put his hand on her lower back and guided her outside. They walked to the car in silence.

Willow placed her hand on his arm as he went to turn the key in the ignition, stopping him. “Angelus, what do I smell like?”

What a typically ‘Willow’ way she’d chosen to begin this conversation, he thought. He now understood what had been going on with her. She’d been stunned, sure, but immediately her sharp intellect had gone to work assimilating what he’d told her tonight and she was adding that to what she thought relevant in their relationship. It made sense to him that once she’d sorted through things, she’d want to start their discussion from the beginning: when he’d first encountered this phenomenon and caught Genevieve’s unusual scent over 200 years ago.

He turned in his seat to face her. She looked very young and innocent sitting there, her expression full of curiosity, trepidation…and a little hope. Considering that he’d rocked her perceptions of their life together and their future, he thought she was being very brave. “If I’m interpreting your question correctly, darling, you’re asking me if your scent is similar to Genevieve’s?”

“Yes,” she replied. She narrowed her eyes and squeezed his arm. “I’m trying to make sense of this…this…what you’ve told me. And that seems like the best place to start: *why* you think it.”

Angelus nodded, concentrating. He wanted to be as specific as he could in answer to her questions. Much of his knowledge was vague, but he’d try hard to relay it so that her understanding was as complete as possible. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be disgusted at how little concrete evidence he was basing his belief on. He’d do his best to see that she was as informed as he was when she met Genevieve. For what that was worth. “All right,” he began hesitantly. “My analogies may not be the greatest, so please bear with me.”

Willow nodded encouragingly and patted his arm.

“Earlier, I said that people just tend to smell like people. Obviously, there are a lot of variations. Especially to a vampire. You and Genevieve don’t share a scent, but it’s similar in the way that while flowers smell like flowers to humans, they all smell different.” He grinned, “For you, food would be an ideal analogy. It’s all food, but there are unlimited different smells that tell you that. I mean, your nose tells you whether it’s baking bread, or cookies, that you smell in the oven, but beyond a shadow of a doubt, your brain recognizes that it’s food. In that same vein, magic is distinct, but different too. Spices are the most accurate comparison I can think of. Genevieve’s scent was more like incense, and yours is more like…maybe cinnamon and nutmeg, but more exotic.

“I know you prefer absolute facts, but this is my theory: your magical scent signature is interpreted by my brain with homey, familiar smells.” He grunted in frustration and dragged his fingers over his face. This was hard to put into words. “Remember the night at the school?”

“Sure.”

“I knew, as I held you, that you were mine. Your scent told me. Obtaining you became my sole focus.”

“You knew all of this back then?” she snapped testily.

“No!” He shook his had adamantly. “No, no, no. Not consciously, anyway. At that point, if I’d even stopped to define it, it was more of a vampire thing. A ‘me’ thing, really. I’ve always been…obsession prone.” He wasn’t thrilled at confessing that and stopped to gauge her reaction.

“I knew that.”

“Oh.” Huh. He’d expected—he didn’t know what he’d expected. Indignation, maybe. “Well then, you can see how I didn’t immediately comprehend that things…might be more complicated.”

“Well, yeah, I guess,” she said uncertainly. “But, I’m not a witch. I’ve, you know, been exposed to the mystical a lot, that’s for sure. Being under the power of magic like when Ethan Rayne invoked the spirit of Janus that time on Halloween, or when that Bezoar’s egg ‘neuro-clamped’ me isn’t *doing* magic, though. I think the closest I came was when Xander and I poured holy water and wore robes when Giles buried the Master’s bones. It seems like quite a stretch to say that I have a ‘magical scent signature’. Are you sure the Hellmouth hasn’t…confused your ‘sniffer’?” Willow frowned in concentration. “I’m still really unclear about how you came to think we are like Genevieve and Nicholai. And what that means exactly, if it’s true.”

Angelus nodded. “I have a lot to tell you yet. I’ll try to be concise. It’s difficult. There was no big epiphany. Things came to me slowly—and I was in denial, or something, because in retrospect, I didn’t put two and two together very quickly. Genevieve will have to tell us why you carry the scent of a witch. My guess is that you are one and just haven’t realized it yet. But, definitely no, the Hellmouth hasn’t, ahem, ‘confused my sniffer’, as you so charmingly put it.”

Willow’s mouth formed an ‘o’ and frown lines appeared as she tried to digest his disclosure and the new possibilities it presented.

While she struggled with that, he took a moment to order his thoughts. Since he wasn’t even positive when he’d come to connect the dots, it was tough. Besides, “Sweetheart, would you prefer that we had this conversation elsewhere? The beach? Home? This could take awhile and I want you to be comfortable.”

“Ohh, no. Right here, right now, mister. It sounds to me like this matter has waited long enough,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Angelus raised his hands defensively. “Okay. Just asking.” He forced himself not to smile at her huffy response. It was definitely not the time to provoke her ire. Back to business, then. “You see, normally my relationship with you—meaning a human—would include…demand, actually, torture and all manner of physical and mental abuse.”

Willow swallowed hard and motioned for him to continue, although his words visibly shook her.

“I would’ve taken joy in your pain and suffering. You would’ve been a pet…chattel. My nature would dictate those terms. Our relationship is an aberration. Unnatural to my…well, nature. Humans don’t *matter* to vampires—except as victims. Yet, from the beginning, you’ve mattered a great deal. I won’t lie to you; I got off on your tears and upsets. But not to a normal degree…and I didn’t set out to cause them.

“I did question the oddity of things a bit, but didn’t dwell on them.” His tone became confiding, “I’m not one for introspection. I resist it.”

Willow’s response was to purse her lips and roll her eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, but chose to ignore the mocking look. Obviously, that aspect of him was not news to her. “My feelings were…new to me. There would be moments with you when I felt ‘shifts’ inside of me.” He blinked, searching for the right words. “Things passed between us, I felt. Deep things. Intimate things.”

“Me too,” she said softly. “I felt them.”

He pretty much knew that, but didn’t respond, just studied her for a long moment before continuing. “The night we made love for the first time, you referred to a bond between us. That resonated with me because it was the first time….” He paused and sighed, “I don’t know…it validated something I hadn’t acknowledged to myself. Then, later, it felt as if you were claiming me. Like a vampire claiming, but different. That is to say, emotional, instead of with blood. But I instinctively recognized it for what it was. Did you?”

Willow shook her head slowly. “No. Well, sort of.” She sighed and tapped her knee in thought. “It was…acceptance—of you. Of us.” She blew out a puff of air in frustration. “It’s hard to explain. I know what you mean, though. Go on.”

“Well, it felt like a union was solidified. And I didn’t feel any inclination to fight it. That is completely uncharacteristic. Vampires dominate. Period. Before you and I had even had sex, I willingly let something pass between us that…that, joined us as equals. Like so much else, from the very beginning of our relationship, it was completely foreign to me….” He rubbed his face with his hands, wishing he were better at articulating what had gone on in his head.

Willow patted his arm. “Angelus, just say it. If I don’t understand, I’ll let you know. I’m following you so far.”

“All right.” He gave her a strained smile and continued. “That night was *not* the standard issue fucking of a virgin by a demon.

“Maybe that’s when it dawned on me that we might be candidates for what Genevieve and Nick shared. Something significant and unusual was going on. I knew that I wanted you by my side forever. And even if you’d have agreed to it, changing you into a vampire didn’t appeal to me: you’d lose your soul and that would change our dynamic. I began searching for Genevieve. For answers. There was so much I didn’t know.”

That surprised Willow enough to interrupt. “What do you mean? I mean, I get why you’d want to find her and any answers she might have. But, why just her? They’re not together anymore?”

He shook his head. “No. Nicholai was killed.”

Willow looked stricken. “God, that’s awful! What happened?”

He grunted and loosened his tie. “There was a man, Daniel Holtz. He was a vampire killer. Hell-bent on hunting us down. Anyway, he tortured and staked Nicholai.”

Willow’s eyes filled with tears. “Genevieve must’ve been devastated. That’s so tragic. I can’t even imagine. I don’t think I’d ever recover if something happened to you, and we’ve just been together a short time. They’d had hundreds of years, like the great romance of all time, or something.” She sniffled and brushed her tears away. “When did it happen?”

He tenderly stroked the side of her face, touched that the idea of losing him was such a dreadful thought to her. “1771. In Rome.”

“Wow. That was a long time ago. How did she deal? And what about her immortality, since she was tied to him?”

“She took it hard. She was beside herself with grief for ages. I didn’t know it at the time, though. I was in Rome when it happened, but Darla dragged me to Florence shortly thereafter. She said it was to put a distance between us and Holtz. That was bullshit, though. She was insanely jealous of Genevieve and couldn’t get me away from what she called ‘the pathetically grieving widow’ fast enough.”

“Huh. So, how do you know that Genevieve is still alive?”

Angelus undid the first couple of buttons on his shirt and stretched his neck. “Years later, I saw her again. Her immortality was permanent. She still mourned, but she was content with her life; she said she’d be disrespecting Nicholai’s memory, and what they’d shared, if she didn’t make the most of it.”

Willow sighed. “Oh. That’s just…so sad. And romantic. I sure would like to meet her.”

“You will.” He took her hand and kissed her fingertips. “She’s on her way. She doesn’t know why I’ve summoned her, but she’s coming.”

Her eyes widened. “I see. Good.” She squeezed his hand. “Go on. I assume there’s more?”

He looked into Willow’s eyes intently. “Yes. But first, how are you taking this?”

Willow blew out a big breath. “I don’t know. I’m kind of in shock. Sometimes, while you’ve been talking, I’ve gotten scared. If what you suspect is true, I could become immortal, and that intimidates me. Then I get involved in the story again. Then you’d mention things that remind me of my fear of aging and losing you as a result. *That* would make me kind of giddy at the possibility of immortality. And in and around all of that I’d get pretty ticked off that you didn’t tell me this stuff sooner.” She sighed and blinked. “My brain’s kind of a rollercoaster right now.”

Angelus chuckled. “It’s a lot to think about.” The console between the seats was in his way, but he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply.

Willow wrapped her arms around his neck and returned it passionately. The evening had been emotional and she was pouring it all into the kiss.

When she bit his tongue, he groaned and slid his hands down to squeeze her ass.

Willow moaned and pulled away. “I don’t think this is something we want to get into here,” she said breathlessly.

Angelus looked at her suggestively and stroked his erection. “Are you sure? I think I’d like fucking you in the backseat. It would be cramped, but fun.”

She blushed and giggled. “Maybe some other time. We’re in a parking lot; there are people coming and going. We’d probably get arrested for public indecency.”

He was still hard and not ready to give up on getting laid. “There’s a blanket in the trunk. We could find a private spot and….”

“No, no, no. Wait until we get home, you, you…horn-dog.” She brushed at his hair, straightening where she’d mussed it. “Besides, you’ve still got things to tell me, right?”

“Yes,” he said resignedly, forcing his mind back on track. “The next part might piss you off a little.”

“Oh?”

Angelus glanced at the backseat longingly. “Are you sure you don’t want to knock off a quickie first?”

“Yes! Coward. Just tell me.”

“Fine.” He adjusted himself. “And I’m certainly not a coward. Some vampire I’d be if I were to be cowed by the likes of you.”

Willow just rolled her eyes and waited for him to continue his narrative.

“Genevieve and Nicholai were well known in the vampire community. Nick was old and respected, and their unique situation made them especially interesting.”

“Genevieve was accepted?”

“Yes. She’s exceptional. In a class by herself. Probably nobody could explain it if you asked them exactly why—but she was and is accepted and not messed with.”

Willow was resting her head against the back of the seat, listening attentively.

“So,” Angelus continued, “because of their notoriety, they were frequently discussed. Through the years there was a lot of gossip. In fact, that’s where I heard about—in vague terms—their being joined by a blood bond or some sort of vampire ritual—or both. I had never given any of the talk much thought, until recently. For obvious reasons, I now wish that I’d paid closer attention. A rumor I’d heard that’s of particular interest to me now is that in the early days of their relationship, they shared dreams.”

Angelus looked to Willow for a reaction, but there wasn’t one. “You see, it was said to be a sign of their bond. Willow, you and I have shared dreams.”

Her head popped up and she stared at him in surprise. “We have?” she squeaked.

Angelus nodded, wondering if this was when the shit would hit the fan.

“I…I, which dreams?”

“The ones in 18^th century Ireland. Where you and I are happily married and have a beautiful family.”

Willow sat up ramrod straight and, for a moment, was speechless. When she found her tongue, she asked, “You had those same dreams?”

He nodded.

“But, how did you know that I was having them too?”

“You talked in your sleep the first time. After that, I just knew.”

Willow nodded slowly, “I see. You thought I’d be angry that you knew and didn’t tell me?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m not. I think I understand. Even though we shared them…they were very personal and…sweet. Intimate. The kind of dreams you just want to hold close and cherish.”

Angelus was relieved that she wasn’t pissed off, and glad that she understood.

“Sooo…you think the shared dreams are a sign?”

“I do.”

Willow pinched her bottom lip and contemplated that, but didn’t say anything.

He cleared his throat. “There’s one more thing. The day we had…the tiff about the gardener. Afterwards, when you were so hurt….” He fidgeted in his seat. “Your injuries were bad, so I tried something. I put a little of my blood in your wine.”

“YOU WHAT?”

Angelus winced from her shrillness. “Willow, it was for your own good,” he placated. “And it worked. You healed very quickly. Didn’t you notice?”

“I—um. At the time, I didn’t think about it. But you’re right. I did recover really fast. You know, it seems odd that I didn’t realize it, but then, *nothing* has been normal since I’ve lived with you. I just cruise along obliviously because I’m wrapped up in all the good stuff that’s happened. Being happy feels great, so you don’t question it, ya know?”

“Sure.” Angelus nodded. “Mostly, people only wonder ‘what the hell?’ when shit goes wrong.” He just had one thing to add to his last disclosure, and then he would finally be done. He thought. They’d discussed so much that he was bit frazzled. He’d hit the important points, though, and could fill in anything he might have overlooked later. Willow would help him, he knew. Her clever mind would be working overtime on all the information she’d received tonight. She’d be sure to have questions.

She looked a bit dazed. She was staring into space, toying with her necklace. Tonight had been a bit overwhelming and she’d shed some tears, yet she still looked unbelievably lovely. He was impressed at how well she’d taken everything. Of course, she’d shown remarkable resilience all along.

“Darling? There’s one more thing I should bring to your attention. It might be nothing, I just don’t know.”

Willow looked at him, her expression somewhat resigned, but still encouraging. “Okay. Go ahead.”

He caressed her arm, pleased with what a trooper she was. “After you drank the wine with my blood—which was a very minute amount, by the way—you were…uh. Well, you seemed more inclined to bite me and draw blood. Naturally, blood play is a big turn-on for me. I enjoy the hell out of it when you bite, and more so when you taste my blood. But, while I’d heard that humans will heal quickly with a small amount of vampire blood in their systems, I’d never heard of one…gaining a taste for it.” He hastened to add, “Not that you necessarily have. The timing of you becoming more aggressive that way begs the question, though. Soon Genevieve will arrive and once we convey all that’s transpired, she’ll have answers.”

Willow stared at him for a long time, and then let her head fall against the seat. She let out a huge sigh and shut her eyes.

Angelus ran his fingers through his hair roughly and took her hand. “Christ, Willow, it’s been a long evening. Things had to be said, though. You might say it was overdue. Hell, I don’t know. I have no experience with the nuances of a relationship like ours. How are you feeling, now that you’ve heard everything?”

Slowly, she turned to face him, resting her cheek against the seat. She raised their clasped hands, studying them thoughtfully, and then linked her fingers through his. “I have no idea, Angelus. I’m kinda numb. Kinda incredulous. For all I know, I might even be a little mad at you. Anyway, just so you know, I reserve the right. Um, to be mad, that is.”

He chuckled and brought their clasped hands to his lips. “That sounds fair.”

She gave him a small smile. “Take me home. Make love to me. My head is spinning from all of your big revelations. I just want to let my subconscious organize things, and then maybe I can bring some order to the chaos that’s my brain right now.”

Angelus grinned at her and said as he turned to start the car, “Believe me, sweetheart, you don’t have to ask me twice to take you home and fuck you.”

End Part 27