"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe both. Maybe more… Maybe something
  else entirely." He paused as if considering something. When he came to
  a decision he spoke again. "I've protected you for a long time," he
  said. "I looked after you for years before Buffy ever came to Sunnydale.
  I never really wondered why. I just did it. Now, I think I understand
  part of it."

  "Mary," she whispered. Years?

  "Yes. It must have been your hair that first made me notice you. I must
  have made the connection unconsciously and tried to protect you as I
  couldn't protect her."

  She stared at his profile in the darkness trying to grasp what he was
  saying. He had been protecting her? Looking after her? For years?
  Simply because she had red hair?

  "But there has to be more to it. Over the years you've needed a lot of
  protection. Did you know that you attract vampires?" he smiled wryly.
  "You're beautiful and innocent and insecure. A combination that vampires
  find irresistible. I've had to set more than a few of them straight when
  they got ideas about you." He turned to look at her.

  She ducked her head, uncertain what to make of his perplexing
  revelations. She felt his hand in her hair again. He gently tucked the
  falling strands behind her ear.

  "Then Buffy came," he continued. "She distracted me and I nearly lost
  you the first night she was here. I tried to stay out of things… protect
  you from a distance… but Buffy kind of dragged me into the middle of
  everything." He paused as if trying to figure out exactly how that had
  happened. "But because she did that I finally got to know you. And
  there's a lot more to you than I had expected. You're also intelligent
  and funny and sweet. A combination that's also pretty irresistible."

  She sat silently, baffled and thrilled at the same time by his actions
  and words. He was complimenting her, she was fairly certain. But how
  serious was he and where was he heading?

  "Maybe I did want to make Buffy jealous," he said quietly. "But that's
  not how it seems to be working out." He turned away from her and stared
  out the window. "I think I may have just ended up making myself jealous…
  of Xander." He laughed unexpectedly. "I'm two hundred and forty-one
  years old and I'm making a fool of myself for a girl who's sixteen."

  Willow stared at him, completely lost.

  "You probably think I'm a raving lunatic, but you're the closest thing
  I've had to a friend in over two centuries," he said. "Demons don't make
  friends. Vampires, on the whole, aren't all that fond of me. And humans
  generally either run screaming or pretend I don't exist. It doesn't make
  for a very big social circle." He finally turned to look at her again.
  "I guess I just wanted to thank you for… treating me like I'm actually
  still a person."

  "You *are* a person," Willow told him. "And I'm not your only friend.
  Buffy…"

  "…is the Slayer. I'm a vampire. Nothing is going to change that. Did
  you know that she has nightmares about me? No matter how hard she tries,
  the same thing that makes her the Slayer will never let her be completely
  comfortable with me."

  "Xander…?"

  "… calls me 'Dead Boy', Willow."

  She looked at his cynical expression and had to admit that it was a
  little far-fetched. "Okay, maybe not."

  "Giles…?"

  "… thinks I'm a fascinating theoretical experiment and a walking
  historical encyclopedia of the paranormal."

  "Um… Cordelia…?"

  His eyebrows raised doubtfully.

  "Okay, so she still isn't even entirely convinced that you're a vampire,
  but…" She frowned at him, trying desperately to think of anyone else. No
  luck. "So, it's just me," she said finally.

  At last he smiled. "As far as I can tell."

  It wasn't until he opened his door that she realized they were parked in
  front of her house. She had no idea how long they had been there. He
  opened her door and she took the hand he offered. She was strangely
  pleased that he didn't release her hand as they walked toward the house.
  When they reached the door he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it
  gently.

  "Ducks? Saturday?" he asked.

  She thought only briefly then nodded. "Ducks. Saturday."

  "Goodnight, Red," he said softly. "You're an amazing girl." His smile
  was oddly wistful as he backed away.

  "Good night, Angelus," she called after him. He watched until she was
  safely inside before he left.

  Willow went to bed feeling inexplicably happy and wondering how in the
  world it had happened that she, Willow Ann Rosenberg, could count a
  seventeenth-century Irish vampire among her best friends.

  It occurred to her that she'd have to remember his birthday next year.
 

  ***
  END