A Chance Lost:

The Value of a Moment

By Felicity

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story. They belong to Joss Whedon, the WB< Fox, Mutant Enemy and all those other wonderful people.

Author's Notes: This is the first story in a trilogy and it coincides directly with my other trilogy "Creatures of Day". In fact, they're the same story, only told from different PoVs. The original trilogy focuses on Buffy and Angel, especially in the later stories, whereas this trilogy will focus on Willow and her relationship with Oz. I highly recommend reading the other one first, as there are important things I've left out of this story so as to not bore those who've read the other trilogy. You'll probably be able to understand what's going on, but it would make a lot more sense if you read the other one. I only did the same actual scenes once or twice . . . most of this trilogy will be the scenes we didn't see in the other trilogy, especially in the second and third stories where the focus will be almost entirely on Willow and Oz. Since in the original trilogy I had some scenes with Willow, I put some scenes with Buffy in this one, to even it out. I love comments, so please e-mail me . . . Last, but certainly not least, I'd like to thank my official fan Jewel for making me write this!

********************

Willow hummed softly as she made corrections on the final for computer science. She paused, her head cocked, then smiled softly as she realized what she’d been humming. It was a song Oz had written and played for the first time at the Bronze the night before. A song for her.

Willow’s heart melted all over again as she thought of him and she smiled softly before beginning to hum again and looking back to the test. She’d been teaching computer science since Ms. Calendar was killed earlier that semester. Willow had been suprised with how much she enjoyed teaching—though she didn’t enjoy Principal Snyder telling her to give all the atheletes passing grades no matter what they did in class—or what they didn’t do.

Willow checked her watch. Buffy should be here, but she had probably slept in past her alarm. She would show up in moments no doubt—looking as if she’d had five hours to get ready . . . not twenty minutes.

This line of thought brought her back to Oz—who always looked adorable no matter what—and she set down her pen without think, still humming softly. The pen began to roll and Willow snatched at it futilely before it went off the side of the desk. Willow contemplated just getting another one, then decided she’d better not waste pens.

She slid out of her chair and knelt on the floor, then realized there wasn’t enough room. She braced herself against the desk and shoved. It moved half an inch. She grimaced, wishing Buffy was there. The Slayer would be able to move it with her pinky finger, but somehow Willow couldn’t manage. And where was Buffy? She was late, even for sleeping in. Maybe she’d forgotten their study date and was in the library.

Willow shoved again, with a slightly better result this time. She closed her eyes and reached into the crack, praying there weren’t any spiders. Though spiders weren’t that bad to compared with frogs. Which wouldn’t be hiding under her desk. *Just keep telling myself that,* she thought. *No frogs or spiders. No spiders or frogs.* Her hand grasped something. Not her pencil. Or a frog. A disk.

Willow pulled it out and peered at it. It must be Ms. Calendar’s. The label said “Restoration” in her hand writing. Willow had come to recognize it since she’d had to go through all Ms. Calendar’s files.

And then it dawned on her.

Restoration.

Willow stood, very slowly. She was shaking all over and it hard to stand. She sat. Heavily. She almost dropped the disk, her hands were shaking so hard. Very slowly she put it into the computer and pushed it in. The computer made a few sounds and then the disk icon appeared on the screen. With trembling hands Willow double clicked, opening the disk. A file popped up. “Restoration” it said. Willow managed to double click again. The filed opened. There were two columns. One was in a language Willow did not recognise. The other was in English.

She only needed to read one line to know, though she scanned the whole thing. This explained everything. Angelus had killed Jenny Calendar for a reason. She had discovered how to return his soul.

Willow looked at her watch. Buffy was always at school by now. She must be in the library. Willow closed the curse and ejected the disk. She grabbed it, clutching it tightly and hurried out of the room. The pen lay where it had fallen. So did the song Willow had been humming.

********************

“Hey,” Oz said, coming up behind Willow. She jumped and turned, smiling foolishly when she saw it was him. She’d just gotten out for lunch and had been looking for him.

“Hey,” she said, still grinning. Then she remembered and jumped suddenly. “Have you seen Buffy?” she demanded quickly. Oz blinked at her sudden change of demanor.

“No,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“Oh, well I can’t find her and I really need to talk to her,” Willow said, trailing off as she lost herself in Oz’s eyes. Then she jumped for the third time and said quickly, “We have to go to the library!”

“Wh-why?” Oz asked, suprised again.

“Giles needs to talk to you. To us. To all of us. Now,” Willow managed.

“But I thought we could eat alone today. Just you and me. I brought a picnic,” Oz said. Willow’s heart melted again.

“Oh I wish we could! We really have to go though—at least, I do. It’s important. Could we do it tommorrow?” Willow asked.

“I guess,” Oz said. Willow smiled at him and tugged on his arm.

“We should go then. But we’ll do it tommorrow. I promise.” They walked down the hall and entered the library hand-in-hand.

“Hey,” Willow greeted Xander and Cordelia. The pair spared a glance and a smile for the newcomers, then returned to their argument.

“Well if you spent some time caring instead of going on about your clothes and your hair and—” Cordelia cut Xander off in mid-sentence.

“You’re one to talk. If you actually did work sometimes, instead of making a fool of yourself, you—”

“Wait a minute, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. And the fact that as long as you look good, we could all not even exist!” Xander exclaimed.

“Excuse me,” Giles said, coming in from his office.

“Like you would know!” Cordelia exclaimed, ignoring the librarian.

“Excuse me,” Giles said a little louder, with a small cough.

“Enlighten me Cordy!” Xander cried.

“Excuse me!” Giles nearly shouted. Xander and Cordelia fell silent and looked at the librarian. He took off his glasses and began polishing them. “Thank you,” he said in a calm voice. Willow giggled. “Thank you all for coming.”

“So what’s the big deal?” Xander asked. “And where’s Buffy? I haven’t seen her all day.” Willow looked over and met Giles’ eyes. Because that was exactly what she worried about.

********************

“Hello?” Willow said.

“Hello?” Joyce Summers’ voice answered. Willow winced. She’d been hoping Buffy would pick up the phone—desperately hoping.

“Mrs. Summers?” Willow said.

“Willow? Is that you?” Joyce asked, sounding suprised.

“Yeah. I was just wondering if Buffy stayed home sick today?” Willow asked.

“No. Though she seemed a little strange this morning. Rather dazed. She said she wanted to walk to school. She was very withdrawn. Oh, I do hope she isn’t sick and not telling me. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I haven’t seen her today, but I’m sure we just missed each other. And I haven’t talked to anyone else, so I’m sure they’ve seen her,” Willow said quickly.

“Of course. Well . . .”

“Thank you Mrs. Summers,” Willow said.

“My pleasure. When you do see Buffy, would you tell her that I’m going to be at the gallery all afternoon?”

“Sure,” Willow said. “Thanks again. Good bye.”

“Good bye Willow,” Joyce said. There was a click. Slowly Willow put down the phone reciever. Buffy had come to school that morning. Only she wasn’t at school. Willow had chemistry with her and she hadn’t been there. So she wasn’t there at all. And she had seemed strange. Withdrawn. Willow took a deep breath and walked back into the main library. They all turned to look at her.

“What is it?” Xander asked. She told him. She told them all.

*********************

“I can do this,” Willow told herself firmly. “I have to do this. Bufy needs me.” She stopped in the middle of her muttering and repeated—in a totally different tone—“Buffy needs me.” For the first time the seemingly invincible Slayer needed Willow. Really needed her, for more than just comfort. This could be life or death.

Willow could save Buffy.

What if she messed up?

“I have to do this,” Willow said in a frantic voice.

“Excuse me, Ms. Rosenberg?” the teacher asked. Willow started and blushed—she had forgotten she was in class.

“The-the assignment I mean. I-I’m having a hard time,” she stuttered. The rest of the class looked on in amazement—Willow Rosenberg was having a hard time? The teacher seemed equally doubtful.

“That’s very interesting. Especially since you’re already written a full page,” he pointed out dryly. Willow blushed again.

“I-I—” she stuttered. He took pity on her.

“Get back to work Ms. Rosenberg. And the rest of you do likewise,” he said. Willow bent her head thankfully and tried to concentrate on the writing assignment. A moment later she felt a nudge on her leg and she slipped her hand down to recieve Xander’s note.

You okay? it said, and it was signed X—the letter larger than the message it followed. Wilow almost smiled, then caught herself and pretended very hard to be working while she scribbed an answer.

I’m worried about Buffy and doing the spell. What if I mess up? she wrote back—her neat handwriting a distinct change from Xander’s barely intelligible scrawl. She put a small W with a flower—how she had signed notes since gradeschool—on it and passed it back.

It returned a moment later. You’ll do great, it said. She squelched a fond smile and wrote quickly, I hope so, before returning to the assignment. Despite Xander’s words she wasn’t particularly reassured.

The bell rang and Willow put her papers neatly away as she stood up. Now she had to find Oz and they would go search the second hand stores around town. If they couldn’t find a Thesulan orb Willow didn’t know what they’d do.

As she put her backpack on and walked out of the classroom she wondered where Buffy was and what she was doing that moment.

********************

Buffy threw another outfit down on the bed, a small part of her mind wondering how she could possibly be worrying about what to wear when she was going to kill Angel that night. When there was a dead girl outside her window.

Only a small part, however.

She picked out an adorable white dress, then threw it down on top of the other clothes. It was much too sweet. She needed something pretty, yes, but something dangerous too. Something for him to remember her in. She considered a pair of black pants, then shook her head. She had to look sexy for Angel.

Suddenly she knew. She pushed through the masses of clothes still hanging up and finally found what she was looking for. It was dark red, with spaghetti straps and a low neckline. It clung. It was perfect. Especially with knee-high black leather boots and Angel’s black leather jacket.

Ignoring the clothes heaped on the bed and scattered around the room Buffy walked into the bathroom. She shed her sewage-covered clothes, twisted her hair up and stepped into the shower before it had a chance to warm up. She winced at the cold water, then relaxed with a sigh, letting the hot water flow over her as if could wash away all the horrors she had experienced. As if it could wash away that first sight, and the note and the rose and the fact that after tonight there would be no more Angel. Not even the hope of one.

********************

“I hope they have one here. We’ve looked everywhere else!” Willow exclaimed as they stepped inside the small shop. Oz’s nose wrinkled at the funny smell and he looked around.

“They certainly have enough strange stuff,” he commented. Willow turned to survey one of the shelves. It—like all the others—was crammed full of strange little knick-knacks.

“We can’t look through every shelf!” she exclaimed. “There’s too much.”

“Maybe we should ask the owner,” Oz suggested. Willow beamed at him.

“Good idea!” she exclaimed, then looked around and frowned. “Where is the owner?”

“Right there,” Oz said as a small man stepped out from behind a curtain suddenly.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yeah . . . hopefully. Do you carry paperweights?” Oz asked.

“Over in the corner,” the amn said pointing. “Mostly anyway. They’re kinda scattered.” Willow and Oz exchanged woebegone looks, but began looking anyway.

“Ooo! A dreamstone!” Willow exclaimed, picking up what looked like a quartz crystal ball.

“What was that?” Oz asked.

“An Eruvian Dreamstone. They’re used to capture dreams so that people can

relive them or nightmares so you won’t have to.”

“Very cool,” Oz said. Willow smiled, then sighed and set it down.

“It’s not what we need right now though,” she pointed out.

“Excuse me,” the shopkeeper said. “Did I hear something about a dreamstone?”

“Uh-uh-I don’t know what you mean,” Willow said quickly. He sighed.

“Oh, I just thought that maybe you were looking for something other than a paper-weight,” he said, turning away.

“We are!” Willow exclaimed. He turned back. “Looking for something other than a paperweight, that is. Have-have you ever heard of a-a Thesulan Orb?” He eyed them for a minute, then sighed and nodded.

“Give me a minute,” he said, and turned to go back behind his curtain. Willow and Oz exchanged hopeful glances. A minute later he emerged with what looked like a normal crystal ball in his hand—until you looked closer.

“This what you looking for?” he asked, holding it out. Willow took it carefully and examined it, then nodded happily.

“How much is it?” she asked. He considered her for a moment, then shook his head.

“Look, I’m a softie, so you can have it for free. Those things aren’t much good anymore anyway. I don’t want to rip you off,” he said.

“That’s okay!” Willow exclaimed, smiling broadly. “You’d be surpised what they can do sometimes!”

“Thanks,” Oz said.

“No problem. Have a good day you two,” the shopkeeper said.

“You too,” Willow exclaimed. She turned to Oz. “We should go back. It’s almost dark and we should start as soon as possible.”

“Come on, the van’s a-waiting,” he replied. She did a little skip and then stopped, realizing that it wasn’t over yet.

“What’s the matter?” Oz asked.

“Nothing,” Willow lied.

“What is it?” She shook her head and continued walking out of the store. It wasn’t nearly over. It was just beginning.

*********************

The library looked different all set-up for the spell. There was a large circle of candles in the middle of the floor, lighted with compliments of Cordelia, and with all the lights out the normally comforting library seemed kind of spooky. Willow didn’t mind—the library was always safe and comforting to her, with or without lights.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and gathering her strength. Buffy needed her to do this. For once, it would be her helping Buffy. She would be the hero. And Angel would be back, a nice person and not an evil teacher-killing monster. Willow could do it. She knew she could. She had to do it now.

Willow opened her eyes, expelled her breath and took another. This was it. Time for magic.

“Spirits of vengeance I summon you!” she called. “Spirits of need I call to you! Answer my need now! Give me my vengeance!”

**********************

Buffy glanced around the crowded dance club. Took a sip of soda. Looked again. He wasn’t there. Yet. He would come. He had to come. It was his night to die. Again.

She looked great, and she knew it. She was ready. She was in her Slayer-prime and Angel would testify to it before the night was over. Angelus.

Vaguely, Buffy wondered what Giles would say if he knew what she was about to do. What Willow would think.

Then she saw him and nothing else mattered. It was time.

********************

“I call to you Great Ones and I call to you Angel, creature of the night, for this night you shall meet and Angel shall be trapped,” Willow intoned. It was a long spell. What if she forgot something? What if she missed a word? The whole thing would be in vain. What would happen to Buffy?

Willow thought of Xander’s note. You’ll do great. She thought of Oz and his faith in her. His love. She thought of Buffy and what Buffy would do. Keep going. So Willow did.

“Trapped forever in torment for the crime he has committed. He shall repent and yet will not be saved. So I call upon you Spirits to punish this soul that has injured so many.” Willow just prayed that he wouldn’t injure any more.

********************

Buffy felt the cool night air on her face for only a second before she felt the attack coming and she swung to counter it, blocking his punch and delivering one of her own.

Angel growled at her, his game face on, and she merely laughed, skipping away and beckoning him to follow.

“Come on, lover boy. Let me show you how to die.”

“I already know,” he said smoothly. “Your turn.”

“No. I don’t think so. You didn’t seem to get the message the first time. Such things must be remedied.” And then the talking stopped as he attacked her.

********************

Willow froze, her mind blank suddenly. What were the next words? She had to remember!!!! What were they? Buffy was counting on her. They were all counting on her.

Willow’s eyes darted to where Oz was barely visible in the cirlce of candlelight. He was smiling at her, belief and love the only things in his eyes. Willow met them, feeling his strength supporting her, filling her. She smiled, knowing they would always be together, and then the words came to her lips and she was saying them as if there’d never been a problem, never been a pause. Only a few more minutes and then Buffy would be safe and Angel would be himself again. Only a few more minutes.

*******************

Buffy directed a kick at his head. He ducked out of the way, but was caught by her next kick to his gut. He grunted and fell, Buffy following him down and readying her stake. He grabbed her arms and rolled them both until he was on top, his game face on and his eyes glowing with malice. Buffy planted her feet against him and pushed, throwing him across the alley and into the wall. She jumped to her feet, running after him and grabbing him before he had a chance to recover. Breathing quickly, she brought the stake to his heart and met his eyes for the last time.

*******************

“Come!” Willow cried. One more time. One more words and then all would be well. “Come!” And then the orb in her hadn began to glow with an unearthly golden light. Willow drew in her breath, holding tight to the glass-like object though it had begun to heat up and was close to burning her hand. She couldn’t drop it. She couldn’t let go. This was Angel’s chance, and Buffy’s too. Maybe their only chance.

Slowly the Orb began to cool, though the light still burned brightly. Willow looked up suddenly and realize it was the only light in the room. Smoke drifted slowly up from the extinguished candles.

“Does that mean it worked?” Cordelia’s voice asked. Willow bit her lower lip and raised the Orb higher, but the glow was beginning to fade now as well, and it didn’t light much anyway.

“I think so,” Giles said. Willow prayed he was right. All that . . . it had to work. It had to!

“Would somebody like to turn on some lights here?” Xander asked. Willow sighed deeply. That was Xander for you. Major crisis going on and he asks about lights. Though it would be nice to have some, Willow realized. There was a small sound and then all the library lights flickered on. Willow blinked, then stopped blinking when she saw Oz and smiled.

“I thought you might need a lights-guy,” he said solidly. Willow’s heart melted and she forgot everything in him. For a minute anyway. Then she jumped, almost dropping the obr and knocking over one of the (luckily unlit) candles.

“How can we tell for sure? I mean, Buffy might still be in trouble!” Even if the spell worked, Angelus had probably taken her to his lair, where Spike and Dru also resided. They’d have to get away from them, and if Buffy’d been hurt that would be hard.

“True. I say we go looking for them,” Xander suggested. Willow opened her mouth to reply, but Cordelia beat her to it.

“What would that do? You can’t very well go pay a visit on all the vamps and say, ‘excuse me Spike, Dru, Angelus, but we tried a little curse and we’d like to know if it works. Oh, and have you seen the Slayer anywhere?’ And if it did work, they’ll come back here to find out what happened. We should just wait and if they don’t show up, then we can worry.” Willow bit her lip again, looking to Oz who was nodding slightly. Cordelia did have a point. None of them were fighters (as much as Xander liked to delude himself) and they wouldn’t have a chance against Spike or Dru not to mention any of their minions. And that was assuming the spell worked and Angel was back to normal. They’d just have to wait. If Buffy was all right, she’d come here. The library was safe, after all. Willow’s favorite place. Buffy would come here.

*******************

Willow knew something was wrong when she saw Buffy’s face. When she heard her first words she knew it was worse than she’d imagined.

“I killed him.” The words echoed through Willow’s mind. Buffy had killed Angel. She had killed Angel. And she never knew about the spell. They hadn’t spoken to her that day. She hadn’t known . . . and she killed Angel. Willow could feel herself going white, needing something to hold on to. I killed him. “What’s the matter?” And Willow told her. She told her everything.

“We changed him back! A few minutes ago. The Orb was glowing.” She held on to that like it was driftwood and she was drowning. The Orb had glowed. She had felt it heat up in her hand. The spell had worked. It had worked. I killed him. “We changed him back,” she repeated. It was Buffy’s turn to go white. Willow stiffened as her friend grabbed her shoulders tightly, green eyes blazing.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean?” Buffy cried, fear in her eyes, such pain and desperation.

“I found it this morning, on a disk. It had fallen between Ms. Calendar’s desk and the wall. A spell to restore Angel’s soul. The curse. She translated it. That’s why Angel—Angelus—killed her. He must have known. That’s why he destroyed her computer too. He didn’t know about the disk thoughh, because it was still there. I found it and I told Giles and when you didn’t come to school, we . . . we were worried. We thought . . .”

“We though maybe Angel had gotten you somehow,” Xander put in, much more subdued than usual.

“We had . . . had a meeting, and spoke to your mother,” Giles said. Willow took a deep breath and started talking again.

“She said you’d walked to school and seemed dazed. We thought maybe he’s done something to scare you, and then one of his henchmen had captured you on the way to work. We thought the only way to save you might be to cast the spell.” Buffy suddenly went weak and Willow could hardly keepehr up. Xander came over and supported her, helping her to a chair. Willow gave him a tiny, sad smile.

“Willow and I find an Orb of Thessalla,” Oz said. Willow cast him a thankful glance, continuing despite her horror at what had happened. Buffy deserved to know the whole story.

“I cast the spell. The curse. Right here, just a few minutes ago. And when I finished the Orb glowed. That’s supposed to mean it worked. But it must have been too late. I must have been too late.” There was no reaction from Buffy. Nothing. She just sat there and stared into space. Willow made a little sound and turned to Oz. He hugged her tightly and murmured soothing sounds. If only she’d finished a moment sooner . . . if she hadn’t thought about Oz, if she hadn’t gone blank for a moment. If they’d come from the pawn shop faster or not looked so many other places first. So many ifs . . . Willow couldn’t take it. She started to cry, clutching at Oz as if he was the only thing holding her to Earth. She could have saved Angel . . . she could have saved Buffy so much pain. But now her best friend was sitting there, sobbing as if her life would end and it was Willow’s fault. Willow had failed. A moment sooner and she could have saved them. Just a moment sooner. She could have saved them and she was too late and now Angel was gone and her friend was hurt, so very hurt and in so much pain. The one thing she could really do, and she had failed. Her one chance to help. And Willow cried.

Epilouge

Angel clenched his fists and then unclenched them, sat up and touched his face. There was no pain. No smoke, no fire. No dust. Just the sunlight and the memory of what he had done. The memory of Buffy killing him. And the memory of something else. Words. Golden light. Good bye and then the light and then the sun and the memories.

Someone had cast the curse. Someone had saved him. He who didn’t deserve to be saved. He who had done the unforgivable. Someone had forgiven him. Someone had cast the curse and forgiven him. Yet he wasn’t cursed. He was in the sunlight. Was this Death?

But no, because he’d heard the words. This wasn’t Death, this was Life.

Angel blessed whoever had said those words, blessed them a thousand thousand times for the sunlight.

And the sunlight was on him and around him, and the only evidence of the pain was inside.

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