Title: What is Wrong and What is Right Author: Karen U E-mail: ksu2@juno.com Rating: PG-13 (just to be safe) Couple: Willow/Lindsey Disclaimer: All BtVS and Angel characters belong to Joss Whedon, the WB, and Fox, among others Distribution: Charity, if the Willow_Lindsey list has an archive, whoever runs it is welcome to this, otherwise ask and you shall receive Spoilers: post Restless and To Shanshu in LA; this is set in the fall of 2000 Summary: Willow leaves Sunnydale to escape her problems and gets more than she bargained for Feedback: I love it Notes: This is my first attempt at a W/L, so please be gentle... Part One Willow Rosenberg pushed her hair back, sighing as she looked around the small apartment she would be calling home for at least the next year. It had only one bedroom, and the kitchen was tiny, but it had everything the redhead needed. Willow had had the option to live in an upperclassmen dorm, and she had considered it until she realized that renting an apartment would actually cost less than getting a single room in the dorm, and the redhead knew that she did not want a roommate. She didn't care for the thought that she would have to hide all of her magic supplies, and she knew that was what would happen if she had a roommate. Not everyone was as understanding as Buffy was when it came to magic. Buffy. Willow missed her best friend terribly, even though she had seen her only the day before. With a quick shake of her head, Willow tried to banish the thoughts of all things Sunnydale from her head. It wouldn't do her any good to sit around and think of the others. It would just make her depressed, and she didn't want that. The others weren't depressed. Sure, they probably missed her and everything, but Xander had Anya to keep him busy, and Buffy had Riley to pull her out of any funk she might end up in. Giles was busy living his life as a man of leisure, and Spike... well, who really knew all that much about the vampire to begin with? And Tara... well, there were names for people with Willow's luck when it came to love. Losers. Willow winced at the harshness of her own thoughts. She was also angry with herself for thinking about Tara. It wasn't that she missed the witch or anything. After a few months, the girl's puppy dog devotion had begun to grate on her nerves. Then, of course, there was the reason behind Tara's devotion. Anyone up for some power stealing? Tara sure had been. Thankfully, Willow had been able to figure it out before any real damage had been done, although spells still left her a bit weak. Then there had been Graham. Riley's friend was wonderful, but he was only a friend, despite how mouth-wateringly gorgeous he was. Even so, she missed the man. Of course, if she called him, there was always the chance that Riley would answer the phone. He and Graham were roommates, after all. And Buffy sure spent a lot of time at the guys' apartment, so she could actually be the one to answer the phone. No, Willow decided, she definitely couldn't call Graham. Of course, she could always call someone else... Wrinkling her nose slightly, the redhead reached for her phone, then jerked her hand back. No. She would not call Angel. Or Cordelia. Or even Wesley, for that matter. None of them knew that she had transferred to UCLA, and she planned to keep it that way, at least for awhile. After her most recent experiences, she wanted - no, she needed - to forget about the Hellmouth and all the evil that lurked out there. Being around a vampire, no matter how dear he was to her, didn't exactly fit into her current plans.     Willow may not have considered him evil, but she knew Angel certainly touched it every single day. And he didn't just fight the evil around him; he fought the evil in himself as well. And why was she thinking about all of this? She had come to LA, alone, and chosen to stay alone, at least for awhile, in order to forget about all the bad guys and have some time to herself, and what was she doing? She was sitting in her room, thinking of everyone and everything she was trying to avoid. Man, she was pathetic. She was also hungry, Willow realized as her stomach growled impatiently. She glanced at the refrigerator in her little kitchen, knowing that she didn't have much in it, and certainly nothing that she actually wanted to eat at the moment. And the state of her non-perishables was about the same: nothing she really cared for at this point in time. With a small grimace, the redhead rose from the couch that sat in her living room and reached for her purse as she slipped on her shoes. She cursed softly as the strap of her sandal snapped, and she quickly bent down to touch the strap, using her magic to repair it. At the same time she made a quick mental note to buy a new pair soon, even though she hated the thought that she'd have to replace the shoes. It wasn't that she didn't have the cash to. She had more than enough money, what with the fact that school was being paid for courtesy of a transfer scholarship, and her parents, though they would never be mistaken for attentive, had made sure she had access to plenty of money. Not to mention that little software program she'd sold the month before. Oh, yes, she could definitely afford a new pair of shoes. She could afford dozens of pairs of shoes. It was just that this happened to be her favorite pair. Willow rose to an upright position slowly, angry that a spell as simple as repairing a shoe could leave her so shaky. It shouldn't be like this. She shouldn't be so damn weak. If she hadn't trusted Tara... No. No thinking about that now. Sighing softly, Willow exited her apartment and headed for the nearest store that sold food. It turned out to be a small corner store, a gas station food mart that was probably once a 7-11, then a Stop N' Rob (as Xander liked to call them), and now it didn't even have a name, or even a gas pump. That part had been torn out, although it was still obvious that it had once been there. The place was definitely a dump. But it did have food. Willow smiled when she saw the ice cream that was in the freezers in the back, and she quickly reached in and pulled out a couple of pints. Given the mood she was in, she could easily down them both, although she would probably feel pretty sick later on. With a sigh, the redhead browsed the rest of the store, picking up a few more items of junk food: a bag of Reese's Pieces, some Doritos, and a bottle of Pepsi. Not exactly the dinner of champions, but it worked for her. Willow made her way to the front cash register and paid for her choices, then left the store, her purchases in brown paper grocery bag. After about a block, the bag began to get a bit heavy, and Willow shifted the bag in her hands just as she felt the sandal strap she had repaired less than an hour before break. "Damn it," she muttered as she glanced down, wondering if anyone would notice if she magically repaired it again. And that was when it happened. One minute, she was cursing at her shoes, the next, she was sprawled on the pavement. "And the day gets even better," Willow muttered as she pushed herself into a kneeling position and began to grab her things. "I'm sorry. I wasn't even looking where I was going," she told the guy - at least, she assumed it was a guy; he was wearing what she would consider guy shoes and he had certainly run into her with enough force to weigh as much as a guy - that was kneeling in front of her. "No, you weren't, but neither was I," the guy - yup, the voice was definitely male - said as he put a pint of ice cream back in her bag. "Are you okay? I hit you pretty hard there." "Yeah, I'm fine," Willow told him. "Believe me, I've had worse," she muttered under her breath. "Excuse me?" "Nothing; don't worry about it. Thanks for helping me pick up my stuff." "No problem. I mean, I did help you send them flying across the pavement," he reminded her as he stood up, reaching out a hand to help her stand. With a jolt, the redhead realized that it was his only hand. The other was a prosthetic. Trying not to act surprised, Willow accepted the offered assistance, holding her bag in one hand as she took his hand with the other.     As he helped pull her to her feet, she glanced up at his face for the first time, and she could barely keep her mouth from dropping open in surprise. The man before her had brown hair that was just a tad too long; at the moment it was falling into his eyes. His eyes were blue-gray, a bit more blue than gray at the moment, the blueness being brought out because of the shirt he was wearing. A small smile curved his lips, and she could tell that, when used in full force, he had to have a killer grin. He was, without a doubt, one of the most attractive men she had ever seen in her life. And she had just made a complete fool of herself in front of him.

Lindsey McDonald stared at the young woman who stood in front of him. Her skin was as pale as that of a vampire, but the warmth he had felt when she put her hand in his told him that she was indeed human. She was also incredibly lovely. Wide green eyes stared out at him from a porcelain-like face. That lovely face was framed by chin-length red hair that curled riotously. The young woman was very slender, and her pale skin was smooth and unblemished. An innocent, almost fragile aura seemed to flow from her. And he had run into her like a damn Mack truck. How's that for a great first impression? Suddenly, someone jostled the young woman from behind, and the spell that had seemed to be surrounding them broke as Lindsey was forced to move. He quickly reached out to steady her, trying not to notice how nice it felt when her body bumped up against his. He tried to remind himself that she was too young for him. She couldn't have been more than twenty years old, and he had the sinking feeling that even that was stretching it a bit. "Sorry about that," the young woman muttered as she stepped away, a light blush staining her cheeks. "Hey, he's the one who ran into you," Lindsey reminded her. "That's the second person to run into you in less than five minutes. The other being me." "Yeah. I guess I must have a hit me sign on my back or something," she said with a small laugh. Her brow furrowed in confusion as Lindsey leaned over her shoulder, then pulled back with a grin on his face. "Well, I don't see a sign anywhere," he told the redhead, trying to ignore the fact that the smile she graced him with could light up a room. He didn't know why he was acting this way. He was not the type of guy to stand around making small talk - well, okay, flirting - with some girl on the street. And certainly not this type of girl, either. Not that there was anything wrong with the slender redhead standing in front of him or anything. No, she was incredibly lovely. Definitely pretty, and verging on beautiful. She just wasn't his usual type. Her simple skirt and tank top, which she wore with a pair of old sandals and absolutely no jewelry and very little - if any - makeup, didn't exactly fit in with the sexy, sophisticated image he was usually attracted to. Which was why there was absolutely no way he was attracted to this girl. He was almost certain of it. "Are you okay?" the young woman asked softly, concern marring her delicate features. "Yeah. I'm fine. I was just... thinking," Lindsey replied, suddenly realizing that he had probably been standing there, simply staring at the girl for the past five minutes. No wonder she looked concerned. She probably thought he was some type of a weirdo or something. Not that she would even know what numerous things could fall under the category 'or something.' Which, of course, was another reason why he could not be interested in her. There was no way he could allow someone so innocent to get involved with a guy as, well, evil - for lack of a better word - as he was. Not that he usually cared about that sort of thing. But she was standing in front of him, just exuding innocence... And damn it, he'd thought he'd completely gotten over that little attack of conscience he'd had last spring. Sometimes he still had trouble believing that it had actually been him... that he'd actually gone to Angel, of all people. Well, of all vampires, anyway. "Oh. If you're sure you're okay then," the redhead said softly, once more drawing Lindsey's attention to the fact that his mind had been wandering. He quickly focused back on her, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm okay. Really. I've just had a lot on my mind lately." And he had. He was in the middle of a particularly nasty case that involved a teenage boy, a length of rope, several knives, and two mutilated bodies. It wasn't the type of case he usually took, and he was hating every minute of it. He knew that the teen was guilty, and he usually wouldn't give a damn if the kid got the book thrown at him, but in this case, the psycho in question just so happened to be the son of one of Wolfram and Hart's biggest clients.     Hence the reason why Lindsey was working his butt off to get the little bastard acquitted. The case was actually the reason he happened to be taking a walk just then. He'd been in his apartment, going over every last detail just one last time, when he had decided that it was time for a break. "Oh, well, as long as you're okay and all. I guess I should get going," the redhead told him as she began to step around him, stumbling slightly. Lindsey's gaze immediately dropped to her feet, looking for what she had tripped over. "The strap's broken," he muttered as he bent down to look at her shoe. He felt her jumped slightly when he touched her ankle. "Did you hurt your ankle?" "What?" she asked, her wide eyes focused on his face. After a second, his question registered, and she shook her head. "No. I'm fine." He smiled slightly when he realized that it was simply his touch that had caused her to jolt. The smile was still on his face when he returned his gaze to her delicate ankle. She certainly had great legs. He was dying to run his hand up... No. He could not do that. It would be wrong... Of course, he had never been one to care about right and wrong. But, he reminded himself, running his hand up the leg of a girl he didn't even know could get him arrested for assault, and how would he explain that to the big wigs at Wolfram and Hart? With a rueful smile, Lindsey stood, putting some distance between his hands and the redhead's almost irresistible legs. "So, um, did that happen when I ran into you?" he asked her gesturing to her broken shoe. "Just before, actually," she told him, wrinkling her nose in the most adorable manner as she gazed down at the offending piece of worn out leather. "That's why I wasn't looking where I was going. It's something like the fourth time the strap's broken, if you want to know the truth. I keep repairing it... and it keeps breaking again. And I'm just too damn stubborn to throw them out, I guess. They are my favorites, after all." "I used to have a pair of sneakers like that," Lindsey admitted, smiling at her. "Really?" the redhead asked, raising her eyebrows. She looked Lindsey up and down, taking in what he considered his 'casual wear' - a blue polo shirt, khakis, and loafers. "Somehow I don't picture you as the sneakers type." "I used to be." "I'm guessing you aren't anymore?" "Doesn't really fit with my job," he told her, wondering if she would ask him what he did for a living. Some women got annoyingly sweet and flirtatious when they found out he was a lawyer, while others simply cracked a few jokes about lawyers being slime and moved on. Somehow, the young woman in front of him didn't seem the type to go with either of those reactions. "Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear that. I think everyone needs to dress down and just goof off every once in awhile," she told him. "Anyway, I had really better be going. As you well know, I've got ice cream in this bag, and I don't want it melting all over me, which it will probably be doing shortly. It was nice... running into you. Or did you run into me?" she said with a grin, then turned to go. "Wait a second!" Lindsey called out, mentally chastising himself. He really should just let her go. So what if he was attracted to her? It wasn't as if anything would ever come of it. He'd probably never see her again. The redhead paused and turned, raising her eyebrows in question. "Yes?" "It's just..." he trailed off, then shrugged. Even if he never saw her again, there was one thing he had to know. "I did just help you pick up all your stuff. Don't I at least get your name out of it?" The young woman considered that for a moment, then smiled. "Willow." Willow. Her name was almost as pretty as she was. He smiled back at her. "I'm Lindsey." "It was nice meeting you, Lindsey," Willow replied before turning to go. Lindsey watched her until she turned the corner, disappearing from sight. After she was gone, he turned and went on his way, shaking his head as he tried to figure out just what the hell had gotten into him.

It had been three days. Three days since he had run into the oh-so-intriguing redhead named Willow, and he hadn't seen her again. Not that he was actually looking for her or anything. And who exactly was he trying to kid? Of course he was looking for her. Even an idiot could see that. Somehow, the little redhead had managed to get to him in the short time they'd been in each other's company. She was, of course, absolutely adorable, and though she wasn't what anyone would call 'built,' she did have a nice, slender figure, even if she was a bit young. She had a stunning smile; she could practically light up a room. And he had no business seeking her out. Lindsey couldn't explain why he felt that way in this particular situation, but he did. It was an odd feeling. He'd never had many scruples when it came to women in the past, and he didn't really understand why he did now. He was beginning to wonder if there was something seriously wrong with him mentally. In the past, he'd always gone after what he wanted, never caring who or what he hurt on the way to his goal. It never mattered what the goal was either: an education, a job, a woman. The only lapse he'd had into morality was the whole thing with that blind assassin and those blind kids, that time when he'd gone to the do-gooders of Angel Investigations for help.     And there had been a moment there, a long serious moment, when he knew that those kids were going to be safe, that he'd felt good about himself. He didn't know how long it had been since he'd felt that way. He'd liked it. Oh, yeah, he was definitely going nuts. He was a lawyer. Lawyers didn't necessarily feel good about themselves. They were evil. He was evil. Wasn't he? Sighing, Lindsey looked down at his right hand, watching with great interest as he flexed it. It had taken Wolfram and Hart three incredibly long months, but the law firm had finally located a demon with the power to regenerate his hand. The process had been done only the day before, and Lindsey was still in awe of the results. Thanks to some demon, he actually had a hand again. It had cost the firm a pretty penny to have it done, but Holland had gallantly decided that it was worth it, especially when one considered that it had happened on the job, so to speak. That was certainly one aspect of being a lawyer that Lindsey had never expected: the possibility of losing a body part. Of course, he reasoned to himself, back when he was in law school, he'd never thought half of his clients would be demons, either. But back to his hand. Lindsey was thrilled to have a real, working, flesh and blood hand again, even if it wasn't exactly the original.     The prosthetic he'd been provided with while the firm looked for a way to regenerate his hand had been great; it had even looked almost real, but it definitely hadn't been the same. With a shake of his head, Lindsey forced his attention away from his oh-so-fascinating new hand and returned his gaze to the sidewalk in front of him. He was sitting on a park bench less than three blocks from where he'd first seen Willow, and he was beginning to give up hope of ever seeing her again. He felt more than a little stupid just sitting there waiting for someone who would probably never appear, so he had brought his notes on his most recent case along with him. The notes, had, for awhile, helped him to pretend that he wasn't really there hoping to see Willow again. No, he'd just wanted to go over his work in outside in LA's not so fresh air. Yeah, right. Deciding he looked completely pathetic just sitting there on the bench doing nothing, Lindsey retrieved his notes once more and flipped to a page that was covered in his assistant's neat writing, pretending to read it as he thought about the case. It wasn't exactly going swimmingly, but he knew he couldn't really be blamed for that. The little bastard he was defending had been caught with both mutilated bodies tied up in his closet, and face it, he couldn't exactly claim the girls had been the kid's anatomy project. And then there were the girls themselves. Monica Langley and Charity Minor. They had both been perfect examples of the All-American girl. Cheerleaders, in the honor society, both in student council, perfect 4.0 GPA's. Even their SAT scores were outstanding. One was hoping to go to Berkeley, while the other had already sent in her application to Rice University. They were smart, lovely girls who worked hard and were from good families. They hadn't deserved to die. And that was the main problem. The little bastard who'd gone after them for days with a knife, torturing them a little more each time until their bodies had finally given out on them... he was the one who deserved to die. The judge knew it, the prosecutor knew it, the jury knew it, and Lindsey knew it. It felt like Vanessa Brewer all over again. He didn't know why it felt that way, though. Vanessa Brewer had been an assassin, albeit a blind one, and she had gone after a bunch of kids. Tad Clemens, on the other hand, was just a murderer. A murderer who had killed two innocent girls that could have been capable of so much. Two girls who were so young, so fresh... Like Willow. The thought stunned Lindsey momentarily, and he briefly covered his face with his hands. Was that why he was having a sudden attack of conscience here? Was it because he somehow saw the face of a little redhead he'd only met once in the faces of Tad's victims? It could have been her, after all. Some other psycho kid, some other town, and it could have been her. And if he got Tad acquitted, it could still be her. Was that why he was having so much trouble sleeping at night? Or was it because this case was simply different? He did, after all, usually defend people who had done bad things to bad people. And those girls... well, he knew they hadn't done anything to deserve what had been done to them. Maybe that was it. Or maybe it wasn't. As Lindsey lifted his head, trying to escape his thoughts, his eyes landed on the one person he'd wanted to see more than anything. "Willow!" The redhead glanced up at her name, and she broke into a smile when she saw him. "Lindsey," she said, pleasing him by remembering his name. "Hi. What are you doing here?" "I was just going over some notes on my latest case. My apartment walls were beginning to close in on me, so... here I am," he said as he stood, immediately falling into step beside her. "It is nice here, isn't it?" Willow replied, looking at the park that surrounded them. "Yeah, it is. What's with the backpack?" he asked. "Books." "Let me guess... UCLA student," he said, knowing the college was only a block or two away from the park. "Good guess. Or should I say 'obvious choice'?" "Either one would do," Lindsey replied, suddenly feeling more lighthearted than he had in... well, than he had since the last time he'd been in Willow's company. He didn't begin to understand the effect the young woman had on him, but he certainly liked it. "So, how long have you been going to UCLA?" he asked hoping that she would make some comment about being a fifth year senior or something, but knowing that wouldn't happen. "Two days," she said with a grin, nearly causing Lindsey to stumble. Two days? Dear Lord, she was nearly jail bait. What was he thinking? "I just transferred," she continued. "This is actually my second year of college, but I'll have enough hours to be considered a junior at the end of the semester. I tested out of a lot of stuff." Okay. Second year. Still young, but not jail bait. She had to be... what? At least nineteen. He could handle that... couldn't he? "So, uh, why did you transfer?" "Lots of reasons, I guess. One of them being that UCLA's a much better school than where I was going," Willow replied, not about to go into any detail as to the real reasons she had left UC-Sunnydale. "Understandable." "Oh, this is me," the redhead told him as she stopped in front of an apartment building. "It was nice seeing you again," she said with a smile as she turned to leave. Lindsey, however, wasn't ready to let her go just yet, not when he had spent three hours on that bench pretending not to wait for her. "Look, um, Willow," Lindsey said, suddenly feeling like a teenager again, which he thought was fairly appropriate since the girl standing in front of him most likely was a teenager, "I was wondering... Would you like to go out with me?" Willow's eyes widened, and he could tell she was surprised that he had asked. After a moment, however, her surprised look melted into a smile, and she nodded. "That would be great, actually. Do you have a specific day in mind, or is this just some random point in time we're talking about?" "Well, um, how about... damn. I don't have my appointment book with me," Lindsey suddenly realized. "I plan my entire life with that thing. How about this?" he said as he pulled a couple of business cards out of his pocket, quickly writing his home phone number on the back of one of them. "Here's my home number, and my cell phone number's on the front of the card, so you can call me, and why don't you write your number on the back on this card?" As he spoke, he handed her the pen and both of the cards, and she quickly scribbled her number on the one that still had a blank back, then handed both the card and the pen back to him. She stuck the second card, the one with Lindsey's number on it, in her backpack. "I look forward to hearing from you," Willow said before turning to leave again. This time, Lindsey let her go. Instead of watching her go, he turned and headed in the direction of his own apartment, his head down as he thought about what had just happened. During the past three days, he'd spent hour upon hour thinking about her, and most of that time was spent reminding himself of every possible reason he should avoid her. And then he'd ended up searching her out, basically walking her home, and to top it all off, he'd asked her out on a date. Of course, they hadn't set a date or a time just yet. He could still do the right thing and stay away from her. He knew wasn't exactly an upstanding guy, and well, she just seemed so... innocent. How could he even think about dating someone like her? Someone so sweet, so adorable... someone who actually made him feel happy. Screw his morals... or what was left of them, anyway. He was going out with her.

Willow stepped into her apartment, tossing her mail (which was all addressed to 'occupant') on the kitchen counter - what there was of it; the kitchen was awfully small, the counter even smaller - before swinging the door of the refrigerator and grabbing a half-eaten container of yogurt. Humming to herself, the redhead shrugged off her backpack and kicked off her sandals - the shoes brand new, of course, and giving her fits with blisters. She had always hated the breaking-them-in period that one had to go through with shoes, and she had to admit was part of the reason she had held on to her old pair for so long. After her shoes and bag had been dispensed with, Willow opened her yogurt and grabbed a spoon. She stopped humming as she began eating, admittedly doing so only because she realized that attempting to hum and eat at the same time could wind up being very messy. In lieu of humming, the redheaded witch began to generally just bounce around. She hadn't felt this good in a long time. Lindsey had asked her out. Okay, so they hadn't made any actual plans just yet, but he had still asked her out, and quite honestly, she was having a hard time believing it. Lindsey had been on her mind for three days, ever since they had literally run into each other on the sidewalk. He was, of course, completely gorgeous, and there was just something about the way he looked at her. He was a obviously a few years older than she was, but that wasn't a big deal. The big deal was that he was the first guy to show any interest in her in forever. Okay, so Buffy or Cordelia would probably make some callous comment about his hand... Wait a minute. His... hand. Lindsey had a prosthetic hand, or at least he had three days ago. Willow quickly made her way into her living room and sat down heavily on her couch, barely making it before her knees gave out. She put her yogurt down on the coffee table, not even noticing how the spoon clattered out and landed on the table, leaving a smear of melting strawberry yogurt. She was too busy trying to think to care about the state of her furniture. She clearly remembered noticing that his hand wasn't real the night they met, although it had been a very good fake. Not everyone would have even noticed, but Willow was nothing if not observant. And, now, just a few minutes ago, when he had given her his card, when he had written his home phone number on the back of it... His right hand, the one that had once been a prosthetic, had been real. But what did that mean? Willow knew there was such a thing as a hand transplant - hadn't the first guy to ever get one turned out to be a criminal or something? - but she was also smart enough to know without a doubt that there was no way that was the case with Lindsey. For one thing, the skin tone, the size, everything, was an exact match for his left hand. Not to mention that whole no scar thing. Plus, it had only been three days since she had seen him with his prosthetic. There was no way he would be out of the hospital so soon. And... if he had had a hand transplant, it would have so been on the news. She was certain she would have noticed if his gorgeous face had been on television. Which meant, no hand transplant. And she was absolutely certain that his hand had been fake just three days earlier, which meant... what? Magic. Willow sat up a little straighter as the thought came to her. It was odd; a few years earlier - say, before she met Buffy Summers - the use of magic would not have come to her as a plausible answer. But she wasn't in high school anymore, and her best friend just so happened to be the Vampire Slayer. Therefore, magic wasn't just a reality to her, it was a normalcy. But what about Lindsey? What place did magic hold in his life? The regeneration of a limb, which is what this almost had to be, would certainly require a lot of power. The question was whose power was it? And if Lindsey knew about magic, which he clearly did... just how much did he know about what goes bump in the night? And did he know anything about her? "No," Willow said aloud to herself with a vehement shake of her head. "This is not Tara all over again. For one thing, Lindsey's a man... Which of course makes no difference whatsoever." Frustrated with herself, Willow threw up her hands, then rose from her spot on the couch. "What is wrong with me? One witch tries to steal my powers, and suddenly I'm seeing evil guys in everybody. Lindsey is not after my powers, damn it! I am so damned paranoid!" Willow paced across the floor of the living room as she continued her one-sided conversation. "Okay, here's what I know: Lindsey had no hand three days ago, now he does. Most likely answer: magic. But what does that mean? Was bumping into me really an accident, or does he know who I am? And if he knows... is he after me? And why am I doing this to myself? He's not after me. At least, not in a magical sense. And how would he even know that I'm a witch anyway? Tara only knew because of that stupid Wicca group on campus... and that thing with The Gentlemen. He doesn't know. He doesn't know," Willow repeated as she sank down once more on the couch cushions. She hated that her experiences with Tara had done this to her... given her this fear and wariness that she had never felt before towards people with magic. Well, not including Ethan Rayne, of course. That guy had always scared her crap out of her. "Besides, Will," she told herself, "it's not as if he's actually called yet. And even if he does, you can always back out of the date. You don't have to go out with him." But she knew that she would. She knew that, if Lindsey did call her, she would go out with him, because, deep down, she really felt that he meant her no harm, even if he did know she was a witch. She couldn't explain why she felt that way, but she did. Maybe it was the vibes he was giving out. Tara had always been so puppy dog devoted on the surface, but, even in the beginning, Willow had sensed that there was something... wrong underneath it. She had deliberately ignored it, though, pushing it away until she couldn't deny it anymore; Tara was out to get her. But Lindsey... there was no underlying vibe that told her she might be in danger from him, and after the whole Tara debacle, Willow had learned to listen to what her senses told her. And besides that, now that she knew he had to have magic in his life, she had to admit she was curious. "Curiosity killed the cat," the redhead muttered to herself as she stood once more, this time going over to her answering machine. In an effort to get her mind off of Lindsey, Tara, and magic, she pushed the button and waited for her one message to be played. She smiled as a familiar voice rang out. "Hey, Will. I got your e-mail with your number, so I thought I'd call. If you want to get in touch with me, but want to avoid the possibility of Riley or Buffy answering the phone, just beep me, and I'll call you back. I'll talk to you later." Smiling, Willow pressed the button to save Graham's message, just in case she wanted to hear a friendly voice again without actually picking up the phone and calling someone. And it was at that moment that the phone rang. "Hello?" Willow said as she put the phone to her ear. "Is Willow there?" "This is." "Willow, it's Lindsey." "Oh, hey," Willow said, cursing how her heart seemed to skip a beat at the sound of his voice. "That was... fast," she said, glancing at the clock. She'd been in her apartment less than twenty minutes. "Where are you calling from?" "My apartment. I'm really not that far from you. I've got my planner in front of me right now, so if you still want to make that date..." "I still do." "Is Thursday okay for you?" Lindsey asked, and Willow could hear relief in his voice. Apparently, he had been worried that she would change her mind or something. "Do you have an early class on Friday or anything like that? Because if you do..." "No Friday classes at all, actually, so Thursday's great." "Dinner, then? Maybe some dancing afterwards?" "That sounds... really nice, actually. But nothing too pretentious, okay?" she warned him. "So a restaurant from my pre-snob days, then," Lindsey replied, and Willow could tell he was smiling. "That would probably be best. I don't really go for the snob atmosphere." "That's such a shame. I'm so damn good at it. Is seven okay?" "Works for me." "Okay, then. I'll pick you up at seven... What's your apartment number?" "1213." "I've got it. So I'll see you then... And now that I've got something to look forward to later this week, maybe I can actually get some work done on this case." "Good luck." The pair quickly said their goodbyes, then ended the call. As Willow hung up, she was smiling. somehow, even over the phone, Lindsey managed to make her feel attractive. She liked it. And now, she had a date with him. She just hoped she was right about him.

The dinner went extremely well, but they never made it to the dancing. Lindsey had chosen a small Italian restaurant, and there were no menus in foreign languages or pretentious maitre d's to deal with, just pasta - and plenty of it. Afterwards, Lindsey had talked her into dessert, and they were now sharing a rather generous piece of cheesecake. Willow had to admit that the food was delicious, and the conversation was constant. As Willow had known, Lindsey McDonald was several years older than her. Of course, she reasoned, twenty-eight was nothing compared to the age of some of her friends' significant others, both past and present. Buffy had dated Angel who, by Willow's calculations, had been a vampire for 247 years. Plus, the blonde Slayer had been briefly engaged to Spike, and he had recently celebrated 127 years as a member of the walking undead. Granted, Buffy and Spike's engagement had been spell-induced, but she was still counting it. And finally, there was the relationship to end all 'he's too old for you' arguments. Xander and Anya. Oh, sure, the former demon was now caught in the body of a nineteen year old, but she still had the memories of her years as a demon. All eleven hundred and twenty of them. So the age difference between her and Lindsey was truly no big deal. She had also discovered that Lindsey was a lawyer, thus forever ruining her stereotype of lawyers as uptight, stodgy old men. And not only was he a lawyer; he was a rather successful one as well. He'd told her that he was a junior partner at his firm, and Willow knew enough about law firms and the like to know that rising to a position like that at such a young age really was a big deal. "Do I even want to know what's going on in that lovely head of yours?" Lindsey asked, drawing Willow's attention away from her musings. Unable to really say 'oh, I was just thinking about the fact that a nine year age difference is no big deal compared to a millennia,' Willow simply smiled and said the first thing that popped into mind. "I was just thinking about how much time I'm going to need to add to my workout because of this," she told him, gesturing to the half-eaten cheesecake. Lindsey laughed. "For one thing, I've eaten most of this, and for another, I really don't think some cheesecake now and then is going to hurt you. You look fantastic." And it was true. Usually, he preferred a woman with a few more curves, but Willow's slender figured more than suited her. The red sundress she was wearing was cut just low enough to show a hint of cleavage, and he loved the way the flared skirt swirled around her terrific legs as she walked. She looked amazing, and he wouldn't change one thing about her. Not even her age. It had turned out that she was nineteen. Young, but not illegal or anything. And there was just something about her youth that appealed to him, albeit unexpectedly. She was far more easygoing than the women he generally went out with. Less jaded, perhaps. Most women he had dated would have thrown a fit if he had suggested eating at a place like this, no matter how good the food was. Those weren't there to eat anyway; they were there to be seen. Thank goodness Willow wasn't that way. He had grown tired of women like that. Women who expected him to try and impress them, women who were impossible to impress. Willow may not have been impressed with him, but she certainly seemed interested in him, and that was what was important. She also seemed so much less cynical than he was, and he found himself hoping that nothing would ever cause her to change. "Oh, God," Willow muttered as she ate just one last forkful of cheesecake. "I cannot eat anything else. I honestly think I'm going to explode." "And what a mess that would be," Lindsey replied with an amused grin as he signaled their waiter for the check. "I actually said that aloud, didn't I?" "You certainly did. Are you still up for some dancing?" "Give me a few minutes, and I might just be able to handle it." Lindsey quickly paid the bill, giving the waiter an outrageous tip, and rose from his seat. Before Willow had the chance to push out her chair to stand, he was behind her, pulling her chair out for her. When she stood, murmuring her thanks, he smiled at her. "The place I was thinking of for dancing is only a few blocks away. I was thinking we could walk there. If you don't mind, that is." "That would be nice, actually," the redhead replied as they stepped outside of the restaurant. She smiled as she looked up at the night overhead. "It's nice tonight. You can almost see the stars." Lindsey chuckled at the reference to LA's notorious smog. "Can you see the stars where you used to live?" All he knew was that she was from a small town a few hours from Los Angeles, and he was curious about it. She had been so vague that it was clear she didn't really want to talk about the place. It made him wonder just what had happened to make her leave there and come to the city of angels. "Sometimes. When we actually took a chance and looked." Truth be told, she hadn't taken that particular chance in quite awhile. It was far too dangerous to look to the sky when there were demons on the ground. At that slightly odd answer, Lindsey simply nodded and held out his hand, pleased when Willow took it. They walked in silence for a few moments, Willow occasionally looking up into the night sky, Lindsey glancing around warily. Apparently, he wasn't wary enough. Rough hands grabbed them from the alley, and Willow screamed as they were thrown against the wall. Immediately, Lindsey stepped in front of the redhead, the only thought in his head to protect her. He didn't care who it was threatening them, he would do everything he could to make sure she came out of it all right. He didn't care if it was a drug dealer, a mugger, or... A vampire. It was a vampire. Well, two vampires, actually. Dear Lord, how was he going to get out of this? He couldn't exactly just tell them 'hey, I'm a lawyer for Wolfram and Hart.' Only rich vampires cared about things like that. And these two didn't look like rich vampires. And what was he going to tell Willow? How could he explain vampires to her? "Give me the girl." The words were lisped out through the larger creature's fangs. Lindsey felt Willow stiffen behind him at the words, and he assumed it was from sheer terror. "You're not going to touch her," he informed the vampire, cringing when the creature stepped closer. So this was what blood breath smelled like. Man, he wished he had a stake with him. The second vampire stood a few feet away, his eyes cold and appraising. "Says who?" blood breath asked. "Says who? Isn't that a little grade school?" Willow's voice sounded annoyed as she stepped out from behind Lindsey, and the lawyer and both vampires looked at the redhead in shock. She was not cowering in fear as expected. No, she just looked pissed. "Look, I've been told that blood tastes better when the person is afraid," Willow told them, recalling a rather strange conversation she had once had with Spike. "And, you know, I'm not afraid of you. So my blood would probably suck." "I can sense your power," the standing in the shadows commented, and the redhead turned to face him, as did the vampire in front of Lindsey. The lawyer took advantage of the situation, kneeing the unobservant demon in the groin before grabbing a piece of broken wood off the ground and staking him. "Oh, you killed him," the remaining vamp sad with mock regret. "Now I'll just have to make a new minion. I choose you, but it'll have to wait until I make the little witch a meal." "Yeah, well, eat this." Both man and demon turned to face the redhead at the words, and Lindsey was astonished to see a glowing ball cupped in her hands. He heard her whisper a few words, and the ball turned to flame. Then, she threw it at the vampire. The unsuspecting creature didn't even have time to duck, and he immediately caught on fire, turning to dust within seconds. And that was when Willow collapsed. Moving faster than he had ever thought himself capable of doing, Lindsey caught the redhead before she hit the ground face first. He knelt on the ground with her in his arms, frantically turning her over and feeling for a pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the rapid beat, but the fact that she was unconscious still left him terrified. He had no clue how to help her; all he knew was that he had to get her out of the alley and somewhere safe. Moving quickly but carefully, Lindsey stood, lifting the slight redhead fully into his arms, and headed for his car.

Lindsey carried Willow into his apartment, careful not to hit her head on the door frame. He kicked the door shut behind him, making a mental note to lock it and pull the chain when he had the redhead settled. She still hadn't regained consciousness, and he was more than a little worried about her. He realized that most people would have hauled her to a hospital or something, but he also knew that whatever had happened to her was magically induced. Taking her to a hospital wouldn't help her; it would just raise a lot of questions that he didn't have any answers to. Carefully, Lindsey set Willow down on his couch, then made his way to his bedroom. After flipping on the light, he quickly pulled the comforter and sheets down, then went back for the small redhead. He carried her into the bedroom, then placed his small burden on the bed, stepping back to look at her after doing so. Sighing, he studied her unconscious form for a moment, then moved forward once more, this time to remove her shoes. Gently, he moved her legs under the covers, then pulled the sheet and comforter up to her chin. He busied himself momentarily with the business of tucking her in, trying to ignore the little voice in his head that thrilled in reminding him that he had always claimed he would never do something like this for a woman. Of course, he had never expected to find himself taking care of a woman who had passed out after saving him - and herself - from a couple of vampires. Certainly a situation like this called for an exception. After making sure that Willow was as comfortable as possible - not that she really seemed to be noticing such things at the moment - he pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down in it, intent on watching over the slender redhead until she woke up. She looked so peaceful that it was easy to believe that she was simply asleep rather than unconscious. Her hair was falling in her face slightly, and Lindsey didn't even try to resist the urge to brush it back from her face. The flame-colored locks were as soft as silk, and the lawyer indulged himself by stroking it gently. And that was when Willow moaned. She was in a very calm, very dark place with no pain, and quite frankly, she didn't want to wake up. Even so, she felt herself doing just that, rising slowly through the comforting darkness of unconsciousness, and she moaned in protest. "Willow? Come on, baby, wake up. Wake up for me." The voice was soft and pleading, and she was certain that she knew it, she just couldn't place it at the moment. Moaning again, she shook her head, trying to surrender back into the dark oblivion she was surfacing from. "Oh, no you don't. You have to wake up for me. Do you hear me? You have to wake up, okay? You're scaring me, Willow." That voice. Who... who was that voice? She'd heard it before, both in reality and in her dreams... but who did it belong to? "Come on. Come back to me," the male voice urged. Oh, no. Not him. It couldn't be. She couldn't have... had she really passed out in front of him? "Lindsey?" she asked cautiously, not yet willing to open her eyes. The sound of her voice sent a surge of relief through him. "Yes, it's me. Thank goodness you're awake." Gathering her courage, Willow opened her eyes, surprised to realize that she was in a bed instead of on the hard ground and that she was staring at the ceiling instead of the night sky. Groaning at the buzzing in her head, she turned to look at the man seated in a chair beside the bed. "Hi," she managed after a moment. "Hi yourself. Welcome back. Do you remember what happened?" Willow frowned, trying to think. "Umm... dinner. Great, terrific dinner, then... walking, and oh, man... vampires."   Her eyes had taken on an edge of fear when returned her gaze to him. "Are you okay?" "Just fine. It's you I was worried about. I take it you've been around vampires before." "You... you could say that," the redhead said quietly, then cringed when she remembered what she had said about being told that vampires thought blood tasted better when the person was afraid. "It's not really something that I usually discuss on a first date." "I can see why. And your witchcraft... I suppose that's tough to work into a conversation, too." "Oh, yeah. That." "Yeah, that," Lindsey replied. "What happened out there, Willow? I mean, one minute, you were throwing a fireball at the guy, the next... you were unconscious in my arms. You scared me. I didn't know what had happened, and I didn't know how to help you." "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I wasn't thinking, I guess. I mean, used to, the spell was no big deal to me. But now..." "What is it?" he asked, struck by the sadness in her expressive eyes. "Now I'm weak. And... I don't want to talk about it right this minute, okay?" she said softly, staring at the ceiling. "Sure. Whatever you want is fine with me," Lindsey immediately complied, disturbed by the fact that he could see tears in her eyes. He hated it when women cried, especially when they were real tears, not just the 'I want to get my way' tears. And the pain in Willow's eyes was more than real enough to convince him to back off. "We can talk about anything you want." "What about you?" she asked him, turning her tired gaze back to his face. "What do you mean?" "You know magic and vampires, too. Or, at least, you don't seem too surprised at this turn of events." "Let's just say I've run into a few vampires before tonight. LA's full of a lot of bad things." He stopped there, wondering if that explanation would be enough. He couldn't exactly tell her he had vampires for clients; she'd probably run as far away from him as possible. "And magic? I mean... your hand. I know it wasn't real the first time we met, and now... Well, that's obviously changed." His eyes widened considerably, and she was certain he hadn't realized she'd noticed the change. After a moment, he spoke. "I don't practice myself. I could float a pencil, much less throw a fireball," he told her, wondering why the comment brought a small smile to her lips. "Anyway, basically, I knew someone who knew someone, and I was willing to do just about anything to get my hand back." "I imagine I would feel that way, too," Willow said after a moment, then tried to stifle a yawn. "You're exhausted," Lindsey proclaimed, suddenly sorry for keeping her awake. "You should sleep. You can stay here tonight, obviously. I'll probably be at work by the time you wake up tomorrow, and you can stay as late as you want to. I'll leave a key on the table near the front door so you can lock up if you decide to leave before I get home." Hearing himself mention locking up reminded him that he had neglected to do so as yet, and he barely waited for her to murmur a sleepy 'okay' to what he had just said before going to take care of it. When he came back moments later, he kicked off his shoes and sat on the far side of the bed, leaving enough distance so that he wouldn't disturb her. His plan was to watch her sleep for awhile, just to make sure she was really okay, then go into the living room and sleep on the couch. "Lindsey?" The soft voice surprised him slightly; he'd thought she was already asleep. "Yes, Willow?" "Thank you for taking care of me." "You don't need to thank me for that." "Why? Because you owed it to me?" Even exhausted, she managed to fill the word 'owed' with scorn. "No, because I wanted to. I care about you, Willow. I don't want anything to happen to you." "Oh." The word was said in a near whisper, and he could tell she was sorry for what she had said before. After a moment, she spoke again. "I hate it." "What?" Lindsey asked, uncertain what she meant. Carefully, he lay down next to the redhead, still on top of the covers while she was underneath them. "This. That I have to be this way," she said softly, a few tears of sadness mixed with exhaustion making their way down her cheeks. "Being so weak. I wasn't always this way." "What happened?" Lindsey asked, feeling a bit guilty because he was fairly certain she was half-asleep and had no clue what she was saying. However, his curiosity was winning out over his guilt. "I trusted the wrong person. I should have known... Where I'm from, you can't be too careful. It's why I left, you know. Too many bad things... I couldn't deal with it any longer. I couldn't stay there." "Where is there?" Lindsey waited for an answer, then looked over at Willow when it become apparent that he wasn't going to get one. The redhead was now fully asleep, and Lindsey couldn't decide whether he was sorry about that because it meant he wouldn't be getting anything else from her tonight, or relieved for the same reason. He was still curious about the details of what had happened to her wherever she had come from, but he didn't particularly want to feel guilty over his methods of getting the information. Sighing, Lindsey rested his head on his arms, gazing at the slender redhead who had managed to cause so many feelings to rise in him. He stayed in that position for the rest of the night.

Willow walked slowly across the sand, her shoes in her hand. It had been a week since she had basically fainted at Lindsey's feet just seconds after turning a vampire into a flaming pile of dust. When she had finally awoke in his bed the next morning - actually it was more like afternoon - she had left almost immediately, more than a bit embarrassed about the events of the night before. She was certain Lindsey would never want to see her again. She was wrong. On Saturday afternoon, the handsome lawyer had shown up on her doorstep, picnic lunch and blanket in hand. He then proceeded to tell her that he would be perfectly happy spreading out the lunch and eating it on her living room floor, but he was hoping that she felt up to going with him to the park. Feeling much more herself by then and too touched to refuse, Willow had agreed to go to the park, and she was glad she had chosen to. It had been a beautiful, sunny day, and the date had turned out to be a blast. Lindsey had kept the conversation light and easy, and for that the young witch was grateful. The redhead knew that she had said more than she should have during her spell-induced exhaustion, but Lindsey seemed to be letting it slide for now. Perhaps he realized that it was too soon for her to trust him with the entire story, and he was willing to wait until she was ready. Or maybe he just simply didn't want to know. No, it couldn't be the second choice. She was certain that wasn't true. On a few occasions, she'd seen Lindsey watching her with speculative eyes, and she knew he was curious about her. The details of what had happened to her, where she was from, how she had gotten into magic. But he hadn't asked. He'd never asked. Not at the picnic, not during one of the several phone conversations they'd had, not when he took her to the movies. That had been their third, and most recent, date. They had gone just two nights before, on Tuesday night. Willow had been shocked to realize that it had been over a year since she had actually gone to a movie, long before Oz had decided to take off on her. The thought had been more than a little depressing, but she had forced herself to get over it by telling herself that she was out with an incredibly handsome, intelligent man, and Oz could just go screw himself. Sighing, Willow shook her head as she continued walking along the beach, looking out at the waves without really seeing them.   It wasn't that she took of the beauty of the ocean for granted, it was just that she had a lot on her mind. Her mind had been swirling lately with thoughts of Lindsey... how she felt about him, how he felt about her, how much of herself she could trust him with. The redhead's preoccupation left her less observant than usual, and she didn't even notice the eyes watching her. The vampire watched from the shadows underneath the pier, his eyes trained on the redhead that walked across the moonlit the sands. She carried her shoes in her hand, walking barefoot on the beach. She was alone, and it was late. Too late. Any sensible girl would be inside by now, or at least not alone. But this girl was. The vampire stepped out from the shadows, intent on following this girl on her journey. He studied her as he walked, taking in the smooth movements of her stride, the grace that she had within her. It seemed oddly familiar. His brow furrowing in confusion, the vampire quickened his pace until he was just twenty feet away from her, studying her intently. She wore a black dress. It was held up with flimsy straps, and the full skirt fell to mid-calf, where it swirled around slim legs. The petite young woman held her black sandals in one hand, and she seemed to be holding her keys as well. She was incredibly slender, and her hair, though pulled back with a clip, was still quite obviously red. Red hair. Slender form. Petite. "Willow?" The whispered word came from behind her, and the redhead in question immediately whirled around, stunned to learn that she was being followed. She saw the outline of a tall, dark figure standing some twenty feet away, and she struggled to see into the darkness, trying to discern just who had called her by name. The man - for the figure was quite obviously a man - was large, and he was dressed in dark clothing. And that voice. Though her name had been softly spoken, she knew she recognized that voice. "Angel?" Suddenly realizing that he was backlit by the moon and that her night vision was nowhere near as good as his, he stepped closer. He could tell when she was able to fully see who he was; her stance relaxed considerably. He stopped when he was directly in front of her, his eyes taking in the unexpected sight of Willow Rosenberg. Willow stared up into Angel's dark eyes, struck speechless by this unplanned meeting. She jumped slightly when he lifted his hand to touch her face, gently tracing her features. As he dropped his hand back to his side, the ensouled vampire smiled suddenly, surprising the redhead once again. "It's really you," he said, almost as if in awe. "Did you think I was an apparition?" she asked. "I wondered," Angel admitted, still trying to get past the almost dream-like quality this reunion seemed to carry with it. "I didn't... How long have you been in LA?" "About two weeks," Willow told him, feeling guilty when Angel's face fell at that revelation. "I... No one knows where I am. I just left; I didn't tell anybody where I was going. Except Graham." "Graham?" "He's Riley's roommate," she told him, knowing the vampire had met Buffy's boyfriend. "He's a good friend. My shoulder to cry on and all that. He has pretty nice shoulders, too." "Just a friend?" Angel asked. "Yes. No sparks, but he is a great guy. Anyway... I guess I just needed some time away from everybody. That's why I hadn't come to see you yet. I just... I wanted to be... away. I don't know if you know..." "What happened in Sunnydale?" "Yeah, that," Willow said with a shaky nod of her head as she resumed walking. Angel quickly fell into step beside her. "I don't have any details about what happened. Giles doesn't really like to talk to me. All I know is that someone you trusted hurt you. In more ways than one." "What do you mean by that?" "She tried to steal your magic, and she destroyed your trust, which is lot harder to fix." "Yeah, I guess it is," the redhead agreed softly before lapsing into silence. If asked earlier, she couldn't have said that this reunion with Angel was something that she wanted, but now that it had happened, she was actually glad to see the vampire again. There was something oddly comforting in his presence. "It's late," Angel said after a moment, turning his head to glance at the redhead. "Is there any reason that you're out here this late?" "It's quiet. And peaceful. I like it. I like to think out here. What about you?" "The same, I guess. Of course, I'm a bit more prepared to fight than you are." "Oh, that." "Yes, that. I don't want anything to happen to you, Willow, whether it be here or in Sunnydale," he informed her as he took her hand, leading her away from the sand and towards his parked car. "Come on, little one. Let me drive you home." "I'll get your car all sandy," she protested, looking down at her bare feet. "I'll just have to deal with that tragedy," the vampire replied wryly, looking down at his shoes, which held a fair amount of sand themselves. "Come on, Wills. Get in the car. I promise I'm a better driver than all of your friends combined." "That's really not all that comforting. I mean, have you seen Buffy and the others drive? It doesn't take much to be better than them," the redhead stated as she got in the car, settling back into the seat with a yawn. Frowning, she checked her watch, shocked to discover it was nearly three in the morning. Angel had certainly been right when he had told her it was late; she had been wandering the beach for over three hours, and she wouldn't have stopped any time soon if she hadn't have run into the vampire.     Curling on her side as Angel started the car and began to drive, she watched the beach roll by, vaguely wondering just how much of it she had ended up walking that night. After a moment, she thought she heard Angel say something, but it didn't really matter. She was already asleep.

The sheets were satin. It was the first thing Willow realized when she woke up the following morning, and that led to the immediate and more than a little startling conclusion that was most definitely not in her bed. Now, this wasn't the first time she had experienced this particular sensation. It had been barely a week before that she had spent an innocent night in Lindsey's bed. However, she knew for a fact that she hadn't been with Lindsey the night before, and one quick glance around the room she was in told her that it definitely wasn't the lawyer's bedroom. The room was dark and had no windows. The only light in the room came from the single bulb of a rather old-looking lamp that sat on an equally old-looking table. A sketchpad was resting on the table, open to a page that appeared to have something drawn on it. There was a chair beside the table, and it seemed to be an antique, just like the lamp and table were. The walls of the room were adorned with a few paintings and several dangerous-looking weapons. Angel. Of course. She had run into him the night before, she remembered that now. They had talked, and he had offered to drive her home, and... she had fallen asleep within minutes of getting in the car. And, apparently, he had decided to take her home with him rather than wake her up. Now fairly secure in the knowledge that she knew where she was, Willow moved to the edge of the massive bed she was in and slid off the side. As she pushed the skirt of the dress she was still wearing back to its proper place - it had ridden up when she slid out of bed - the redhead glanced at the monstrosity she had slept in for a minute, then shook her head and moved to the small table. She sat in the chair beside it, curling her legs up under her as she reached out for the sketchpad, eager to see what the vampire had been working on. She'd seen some of the work he'd done during his soulless days in Sunnydale - those had been more like warnings than works of art - and she knew Angel was talented. That knowledge, however, hadn't prepared her this particular piece. Her mouth dropped open at what she saw drawn there. "You're awake." The words were spoken softly from the doorway, and Willow shifted in the chair to face the vampire. Angel smiled softly as he stepped in the room, and he nodded in the direction of the sketchpad the redhead held in her hands. "I see you found them." "This is me," she said softly in a voice tinged with surprise and awe as her eyes went back to the page the pad had been left open to. And indeed it was her. It was Willow as she had looked to Angel last night, as something out of a dream. Her hair was up except for a few wisps that had escaped her hair clip, and a tiny smile graced her lips. He'd drawn the beach behind her, the waves rolling gently towards the shore as she stood there, her shoes in her hand. "Yes, it is. You don't mind do you?" Angel asked, suddenly worried that Willow would find a reason to object. "Mind?" Willow echoed as she lifted her eyes to his face. "How could I mind? It's just this... this is amazing. I don't think anyone's ever drawn me before." "I have," the vampire admitted quietly, meeting the redhead's stunned eyes. "You have? When? Can I... can I see them?" She glanced down at the pad in her hand. "Do you mind if I look at the rest of these?" "No. No, not at all. I'll be back in a moment. I've still got some of my sketches, but a lot of them were lost in the explosion," he told her, missing the way she winced at the reminder that someone had blown up his home and office just months before. "I've tried to draw some of them again, and Cordelia's let me use some pictures she has in order to help me recreate a few of them." With that, the vampire went off into the other room in search of his drawings while Willow went back to what she held in her hands. The first drawing was of Cordelia and Wesley, the pair laughing at some shared joke while the brunette sat at her desk. The second was of just Cordy by herself as she researched something, an annoyed look on her face. The third was Wesley and another man, a man Willow had never seen before. "Who's this?" Willow asked as Angel came back into the room, a stack of drawings in his hand. The vampire moved so that he was leaning on the arm of the chair, and he glanced down at the young man Willow indicated. "That's Gunn. He helps out around here sometimes, and I help him out when he needs it. He's a good kid. You'd like him." "Um, Angel? Where exactly is here?" "Beg your pardon?" "You said that Gunn helps out around here. Where exactly is here?" Angel smiled as he stood. "A warehouse that's been changed into an office building and three apartments. Gunn, Wesley, and I all keep places here. It's not really done yet, but we've only had the place since July." "Oh," the redhead said as she reached for the papers that Angel held in his hand. He immediately relinquished them to her, and the young witch began studying them as she continued to speak. "What about Cordy?" "What about... Oh, you mean why doesn't she live here, too? She didn't want to leave her roommate." "Her roommate? I didn't know-" "He's a ghost named Dennis," Angel interrupted with a smile. "A ghost? I'm assuming he's friendly." At Angel's nod, she spoke again. "I've never met a friendly ghost. In Sunnydale, they're usually more of the evil variety." "I seem to recall one ghost who wasn't," the vampire remarked just as Willow came to a slightly charred drawing that was nearly three years old. She smiled as she realized what it was. "This is me. On Halloween. As a ghost." "But the ghost of what?" he countered, looking pointedly at the leather skirt and fishnet stockings she wore in the drawing. The redhead sighed. "I'm still not sure about that. Buffy's the one that picked it out. You'd have to ask... her." Willow's voice trailed off to a near-whisper as she came to the last picture. It was a drawing of her and Buffy at the senior prom, both of them laughing. They looked so happy. She missed feeling that happy. She hadn't felt that way in a long time, but recently, in her time with Lindsey, she had begun to feel that maybe, just maybe, she could be that happy again. "Will? You okay?" "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," she said as she handed the pictures back to the vampire. "These... these are amazing. Thank you for letting me see them." "Anytime," the vampire replied as he lay the drawings on the table. "And thank you for bringing me here, too. Even though I'm still not sure why you did." "You were asleep," he told her simply, as if that explained everything. "You could've woke me up." "I didn't want to disturb you. You... you just looked so peaceful. Peace isn't something any of us has had a lot of over the past few years." "True enough," Willow replied, looking into the vampire's compassionate eyes. She couldn't help wondering how much Angel knew about what had happened with Tara, but she didn't feel up to asking, and she knew he wouldn't bring it up outright. So, for now, she was safe. At that moment, Willow heard a door from downstairs being flung open - loudly - and she looked wonderingly at the vampire. "My apartment's in the loft, and that's probably Cordelia coming in for work." Smiling slightly, he reached out his hand to the small young woman. "What do you say I take you downstairs so you can surprise the hell out of her?" Willow took his hand. ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~ "Good morning." Lindsey turned at the voice, and he nodded at the woman who seemed to have a gift at getting his hackles up. "Lilah," he responded with a nod, then picked up his briefcase, moving towards the door of his office. "If you'll excuse me, I'm due in court." Lilah Morgan nodded in acknowledgment of his claim, but stood her ground. "I realize that. The case is really heating up. Another few weeks, and it will all be over. But who will prevail?" "I do my job, and I do it well." "Of course you do. You always have. Well, almost always. You've always been so focused on the win. But now... who's the redhead, Lindsey?" "What?" "The redhead. The one I saw you at the movies with a few nights ago. You were too busy staring at her to notice anything else, even me. I hope she won't be a distraction to you. This case is very important. Tad Clemens's father... well, I don't have to remind you how much Milton Clemens means to this firm." "Yet you do it anyway." "Yes, well, I thought I'd just give you a little friendly advice and-" "When have you even been friendly?" "Oh, that hurts. It really does, Lindsey. My point is, don't screw this up. Don't let any distractions in, not even an adorable little redhead. You can't afford to make another mistake." "If you weren't such a bitch, I'd think you actually cared." "I don't care about you or your pathetic little life. I do, however, care about me. And if you screw up again, Holland and the senior partners will not be happy. That wouldn't bode well for any of us." "Well, thank you for the warning, Lilah, even though it was completely in your own self-interest, but I can handle my own cases, as well as my own life, which you would do well to stay out of. And that includes a certain little redhead," Lindsey said calmly as he pushed past the female lawyer, leaving Lilah behind, a speculative look on her face.

"Willow? Oh, my gosh, is it really you?" The redhead opened her mouth to respond to the former cheerleader's question, only to end up with a mouthful of hair as the brunette crushed her in an unexpected hug. Willow sputtered as Cordelia pulled away and studied her face. "I can't believe this! I didn't know you were coming." She turned her gaze on the vampire who was standing in the doorway smiling. "Why didn't you tell me she was coming?" Angel shrugged, amused and pleased at Cordelia's reaction to seeing the redhead for the first time in over a year. "I didn't know." "But... then... how..." Cordelia trailed off, confused, then tried again. "How did you know where to find us?" "I didn't," Willow blurted out, then went on to clarify her statement. "I mean, I knew Angel's new phone number, but I didn't know where his place was. I live here now. In LA." "And you didn't tell me?" the brunette asked. She knew she and Willow had never really been good friends, and she had no reason to feel hurt, but she did. "I didn't tell anybody. Well, except for Graham. Until Angel and I ran into each other on the beach last night, Graham was the only person who knew where I was living. Now you know, too, and I'm guessing Wesley will soon." "And Gunn," Cordy added, feeling a bit better now that she knew that everyone, not just her, had been in the dark about the redhead's whereabouts. "Well, considering the fact that I've never met him, I don't think it'll matter all that much to him," Willow replied as she ran a hand through her rumpled hair. The movement caused Cordelia to take notice of the redhead's wrinkled and mussed appearance, and she turned to frown at Angel. "Why haven't you given her some of my clothes to wear?" "Excuse me?" the vampire asked, startled by the sudden change in subject. "Well, her clothes have obviously been slept in. Now, if this were a normal situation, I'd be thinking something happened, but since you're still all soul-having, I'm going to assume whatever happened isn't something I should worry about. However," she continued, reaching for the redhead's hand and heading off towards a door, dragging Willow behind her, "the fact that Willow need something else to wear obviously is." That said, she opened the door to the room, pulled Willow in behind her, and shut the door. The redhead looked around her, surprised to discover she was in a bathroom/dressing room. The entire room was done in shades of mauve, and it was clearly Cordelia's. "I thought you didn't stay here." "I don't," the brunette replied as she opened a closet and began rummaging through it. "However, I do keep several changes of clothes here so I won't have to run home every damn time I need to go undercover or change due to being slimed." "I'm assuming the possibility of being slimed is the reason for the shower." "But of course," Cordy said as she handed Willow a red tank top, a pair of shorts, and a towel. "Here. I figure you want to take a shower or something first, then get dressed. This outfit should work; it'll only be a little big. Anyway, the guys decided I needed a room of my own or whatever where I could keep my own stuff even though I don't live here." "That was certainly considerate of them," the redhead said as she turned on the shower, testing the temperature of the water before stripping off her dress and stepping under the spray, shutting the shower door behind her. "Well, they are some of the most considerate guys in the world," the brunette stated, raising her voice in order to be heard over the shower spray. "Of course, I think they just wanted to make sure I didn't take over one of their bathrooms." Willow laughed as she reached for Cordelia's shampoo and began washing her hair. "Probably," she said after a moment. "I mean, Riley's complained that Buffy's taking over his bathroom, and she doesn't even live there." "He's Buffy's new boyfriend, right?" "Yeah. Well, not so new anymore. They've been together since January, and it's September now." "True enough. So, who's this Graham guy?" "What?" "Graham. The other person who knows where you are. You mentioned him a few minutes ago," the brunette prompted. "Oh, him. He's Riley's roommate. Also a good friend of mine." "How good?" "What do you mean by that?" "I mean, a friend to talk to, a friend to party with, or a friend to get pelvic with?" "Cordelia!" Willow exclaimed, opening the shower door slightly and peeking out to give the secretary a stunned look. "What? It's a perfectly good question. Look, I know about the whole Tara thing, but I also saw you with Oz, not to mention the whole Xander thing. Okay, so you may be bi, but I know you have a thing for guys." "I don't want to talk about Tara," Willow said sharply, shutting the door and lifting her face to the shower spray, trying to pretend the sting of tears was really soap in her eyes. The way the brunette had said it, she knew that the girl had no idea what had actually happened, and she wasn't ready to tell her about it, nor was she ready to discuss the real reasons the relationship began in the first place. "Willow? Oh, no, I said something really wrong, didn't I? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything. I just wanted to find out about Graham." Graham. Just the thought of the man calmed her down slightly. During the time in which she had become suspicious of Tara, he had been her rock. He had listened to her suspicions, her fears, and he had helped her figure everything out and pull herself out of it. "Willow?" "He's a friend," the redhead finally replied, causing Cordelia to breathe a quick sigh of relief. Willow was still talking to her. "A good friend, but that's it. He is gorgeous, though," she added as she shut the water off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around herself. "Look, Willow. What I said before-" "Is nothing. Don't worry about it. There's... there's just a lot that you don't know. There's a lot that basically nobody knows. Except Graham." "He's special to you, isn't he?" "Yeah, I guess he is," the witch agreed as she finished drying off and pulled on the clothes Cordelia had provided for her. "He was there, you know? Everyone else was so busy with their own lives, but Graham was always my friend. He always had time." "And you left him?" "He knew I needed to go. He even helped me go apartment-hunting and do all the transfer stuff to get into UCLA." "An apartment, huh? No dorm for you?" Cordy asked. "Please. I did that last year," she replied as she completed the task of towel-drying her hair. "Plus, I needed to be alone. I just wanted some solitude for awhile." "And this... solitude..." the brunette trailed off, then began again. "Does it mean staying away from us, even though we know you're here?" Willow stood silently for a moment, gazing at herself in the mirror. Did it mean that? She had come to LA in order to be alone, or at least anonymous. Just a young red-haired woman who went to UCLA. But Lindsey already knew about her magic, and he didn't care. And Angel... well, it had just been so nice, so comfortable being around in the vampire. In some ways, he reminded her of Graham. Rather quiet, but you always knew he cared. And Cordelia... It had been so long since Willow'd had a real conversation with another female. Talking to a few girls in class didn't count. She couldn't really be honest with them. But Cordy? Cordy she could be honest with, even if it meant simply telling her she wasn't ready to talk about something. "No. No, it doesn't. I thought it would, but I was wrong. I don't want to stay away from you guys," she said as she turned away from the mirror to face the woman behind her. "Good. Because I could certainly use another female around here." "Excuse me?" "Well, the guys are great. I'll admit that. But they are just that: guys. There are a lot of things that they just don't understand. Not to mention the fact that these aren't even really normal guys. Gunn pretty much is, but Angel's got a couple of centuries under his belt, and Wesley is a stuffy British guy." "I see your point." "Plus, we could probably use your help around here," Cordelia continued as she opened the door and led the redhead back out into the main room, where Wesley and a young man who had to be Gunn had joined Angel. "Angel's the best on a computer around here, and he's been dead since 1753. Technology is not exactly his forte, you know? So, we'd love to have you here, as both friend and net girl. What do you say?" "Shouldn't this be Angel's decision?" Cordy shrugged. "Maybe. But I know he'll feel the same way. Come on, Will. Do you want to work with a former cheerleader, a former Watcher, a street kid, and an ensouled vampire?" Willow looked at the men that were halfway across the warehouse from her and Cordelia. There was obvious camaraderie there, and she couldn't help but smile back when Angel glanced up and grinned at her. Biting her lip, she looked around the place, then back at the people in the office, already feeling a sense of belonging. Her smile widened slightly as she realized that maybe, with the help of Lindsey and her friends here in LA, she could find her niche again, somewhere where she belonged. Somewhere she could be happy. She turned to Cordelia. "I'd love to." ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~ Sighing, Lindsey stood at the mirror in the men's room, studying himself. He'd been good today. No, more than good. He'd been brilliant. He'd twisted every single word Detective Kate Lockley had said until the jury thought the woman was a liar and quite possibly insane. He'd then proceeded to rip apart Lockley's partner, making Detective Dean Wittmer look like a drunken fool. Now, while is was true that Wittmer had once had a problem with the bottle, he had, for the most part, gotten past it, and he was never drunk on the job. Of course, after Lindsey McDonald had gotten through with him, no one would ever believe that. No, the jury was probably picturing Wittmer at a crime scene, beer bottle in hand as he interviewed witnesses. He'd managed to get the legality of how the evidence was gathered called into question, and there was every possibility that at least part of the evidence would now be thrown out. "Win at any cost. Isn't that the way it goes, McDonald?" Lindsey turned to see David Fielding, the assistant DA and the prosecutor in the Clemens case, behind him. "Just doing my job." "Yes. Wolfram and Hart will be so proud. Making a pair of fine detectives look like fools in order to get a murderer acquitted." "Keep your opinions to yourself, Fielding." "We both know Tad Clemens murdered those girls. Everyone knows it, and that fact won't change even if you get all of the evidence thrown out. If Clemens does go free, and ends up killing someone else, it's on your conscience. Oh, wait. You don't have a conscience. Good day, counselor," David finished angrily before storming out. Sighing, Lindsey went back to studying his face in the mirror. What Fielding had said about Wolfram and Hart was true. The firm would definitely be happy with the turn things had taken today. But what about Willow? If she had been in that courtroom today, listening to him, and if she had known the real facts of the case - if she had known what he knew - what would she think of him? He didn't think he wanted to know.