Chapter Text
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There was a storm coming.
Angel could feel it in his bones, in the unnatural stillness of the night. The animals in the forest had all gone to ground. He probably should as well, but he’d rather see what havoc Mother Nature was going to wreak up close and personal. He was sure it was tied into the feeling he’d had earlier; a feeling he wanted to ignore, but couldn’t.
Broom fell. Company’s coming.
The storm arrived with a low rumble of thunder and a flash of lightning that highlighted the dark purple underbellies of the clouds. Fat raindrops fell slowly at first, but soon gathered momentum until the rain stung like tiny knives slashing at his skin.
Angel stood at the edge of the forest and watched the sky. The clouds were swirling, churning in their fury, and he could see flashes of green in the vortex the tempest was creating. Part of him wanted to run, to find safety, for this was no natural storm. Other forces were at work and he wanted no part of it. The larger part of him, the demon that he was still trying to master control of, was curious and near salivating at the thought of whatever mayhem might drop from the heavens. So he stayed and watched.
The storm reached its crescendo with a deafening clap of thunder and a blinding flash of green-tinged lightning. Angel threw his hand up to shield his sensitive eyes and flinched away from the sun-like brightness. When he looked again, the storm had calmed to a gentle, much more natural rain. It was almost soothing. He blinked the residual spots from his vision and looked out over the clearing. The clouds were thinning and the moon was making a valiant effort to cast her light down.
There. There was something lying in the middle of the clearing. He cautiously made his way towards it then started to run when he realized it was a body. A young woman had been tossed down from the heavens; a fallen angel perhaps? Angel snarled silently at the mocking laughter in his head, but didn’t apologize for waxing a little poetic. William would be so proud, he thought; then abruptly shied away from that line of thought. That way only laid pain.
He reached the woman and frowned as he took in her appearance. She was wearing trousers in a cut that was unfamiliar to him and a high-necked shirt that clung in an almost unseemly fashion to her body under a mid-length coat of some sort. He’d never seen the like before. Her dark hair was rather short as well, falling just to her shoulders. There was a trickle of blood down the side of her face from a cut at her hairline and Angel felt his face flicker at the enticing scent. He forced his demon back as he knelt down beside her. She was alive, but that was really all he could tell at the moment. He carefully gathered her into his arms and made his way to the shack he’d been calling home for the last few weeks.
She woke when he was almost there, blinking groggily. She looked up at him with luminous eyes and he felt his un-beating heart stutter in his chest. There was such power in those eyes.
Her brow furrowed in confusion and her voice was unsteady when she spoke. “An-angel?”
He almost dropped her. What sorcery was this? “How do ye know my name,” he asked gruffly.
She frowned at him. “It’s me, Angel. Willow.”
He frowned at her right back. “I know no one by that name. I’ve never seen ye before in me life.”
Willow blinked a few times then looked at him as closely as she could in the watery moonlight. “What year is it,” she finally asked.
He blinked at that. What a strange question. They arrived at the shack and he stepped through the doorway and settled her gently onto the single chair in the room, before he lit the lanterns he’d set out and stoked the fire. Once the flames were merrily dancing in the grate he turned to look at her and finally answered her. “The year is 1903. We’re in The Black Forest in Germany. What witchcraft sent you here, Willow? Ye were tossed down to earth like an Angel cast from Heaven in the midst of one of the worst storms I’ve ever seen. How do ye know me?”
Willow shivered in her wet clothes and Angel hastily handed her a rough towel and one of his shirts. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll just wait outside for ye to change. Ye can wrap up in a blanket after. Then we’ll talk.”
He suited actions to words and stepped outside, arguing with himself all the while. He didn’t need this kind of complication. He just wanted to be left alone. The Fates, though, apparently had other ideas.
He heard Willow softly say he could come back in and he entered to find her standing in front of the fire warming her hands. He swallowed as he got a good look at her. Red. Her hair was red. It was a lovely shade, somewhere between ruby and blood. The borrowed shirt fell almost to her knees and he could clearly see the outline of her body through the thin material. It was an alluring sight, to say the least. His fingers itched for charcoal and paper, but now wasn’t the time.
She looked at him over her shoulder and he felt that clench in his chest again. This young woman knew him, he was sure of it. But how was this possible?
To cover his nervousness and confusion Angel crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at her. “Talk,” he ordered.
Willow lifted one eyebrow and gave him a half-smirk, like she knew exactly what he was doing, but simply said, “It’s a long story.”
Angel smirked back her. “I’ve got nothing but time.”
Willow’s smirk fell and she sighed as she returned to her seat. “Yeah, apparently so do I.” She looked up at him. “You might want to get comfortable. This is gonna take a while.”
This was it. This was the moment he’d been unconsciously waiting for since those thrice damned gypsies had cursed him. He had a choice to make: continue on as he had been- solitary, broken, avoiding all contact; or he could listen to this fae woman and start on a new path.
Angel made his choice.
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