A/N - AU set after season 7 of Buffy, and season 4 of Angel.
Disclaimer - I own nothing.
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There are times she feels as though she doesn't know him. And part of that is true.
She doesn't know what he went through, though he knows her. It's as if he could see into her soul the first time he saw her. At least, that's what she wants to believe. She knows deep down it was the countless nights of drunken confession, where she told him all her secrets but never received them back.
He could still see the pain she had been through. In a way, he could still see it now. He never told her why he had a death wish, or how things ended. Perhaps he'll find the time.
His arms tightened around her a bit as they lied in the bed they share. She looked up at him and a questioning glance followed. He closed his eyes, adverting her emerald stare.
"Wesley?" She questioned softly. "What's wrong?"
He looked away, managing a small smile.
"Nothing." He paused. "Everything…"
She slowly sat up, a concerned look on her face as she gently strokes his cheek.
He sighed, knowing he could not escape from the hole he had so quickly dug.
"I was thinking." He said simply, brushing a lock of fire-colored hair away from her face.
She smiled.
"Maybe you shouldn't do that so much…Don't want your brain to start hurting," she said, poking his bare chest playfully.
He smiled again, but she knew it wasn't a true smile. He never smiled like he used to.
He slowly sat up, leaning against the headboard as he looked at her. Sliding an arm around her waist, he pulled her to him.
She curled up against his chest, looking at him as she slowly kissed his neck.
The bright lights of London outlined his profile. She brought her hand up to caress his cheek again. He sighed, leaning into her hand and closing his eyes.
"Why won't you tell me what happened to you?" she asked, her voice soft but still hurt.
"All in due time, Willow," he said quietly.
It was the same routine, always followed night after night. Month after month.
He didn't want to tell her, but it was inevitable that she would find out. One way or another, she'd find out and leave him like everyone else.
She would always ask him, knowing she may never get an answer. He had his reasons just as she had hers.
Reasons she kept the supplies, but never did magick, even in times of need.
Reasons he kept so many knives around the house, but could never touch them.
They aren't as trusting as they once were.
She had her suspicions about what happened, and he had his suspicions that she already knew.
She looked down at their intertwined fingers.
"So…what were you thinking about?" she asked lightly.
"You…" he said softly.
She frowned.
"Um…What about me?"
"You've put up with me for so long…Why?"
She leaned back against him, her face creased in thought. Or perhaps frustration.
"Because you…understand me," she said slowly.
He nodded, his expression one of complicated thought.
She leaned up a little to kiss his jawline.
"But you don't understand me…" he said quietly.
Willow wasn't sure if he meant it as a statement or a question.
"That's because you won't let me," she said, settling back into his arms.
He stiffened, knowing where this conversation was leading.
"I'm sorry, Wes…But it's true."
He nodded, gently pushing her away from him as he got out of the bed.
She watched his back as he walked away from the room.
Hearing the distinct sounds of a cabinet open and something being poured into a glass, she got out of bed, tracing his steps with her own.
He knew of her presence in the room, could see her in the mirror, yet didn't acknowledge her.
She slowly walked forward, wrapping her arms around his waist as she kissed his back lightly.
Feeling the muscles stiffen underneath her touch, she sighed in frustration.
She knew this routine, repeated night after night. Week after week.
"Fine…" She said softly, turning around. She made her way to the library they shared and shut the door. She slumped into the lumpy armchair, and blinked to fight back the tears she knew were coming.
Thoughts ran through her mind, the same thoughts that had been plaguing her for weeks. She knew the answers to them, but she didn't want to acknowledge that they existed. So she let them burn in the recesses of her mind, knowing that one day she would have to face the truth in them.
He felt the sorrow radiating from her as she walked away from him, and a wave of guilt fell over him, but he pushed it aside. He knew what she wanted from him, and he knew he could never give it to her. There were too many risks; it was too dangerous. He had been rationalizing it in his brain for the long months they had shared together. But he knew he was just making excuses, drawing out the inevitable pain they would both feel. He finished his drink in one swig, and walked to the library.
Willow looked away as she heard the door open quietly. She tried discreetly to wipe the tears from her eyes, not letting him see even though he already knew she had been crying. She felt his hand begin to stroke her hair, and he leaned down to kiss the top of her head.
"What are we doing, Wes?" Her voice was unsure, and she still refused to look at him.
He kneeled down beside her, placed his hand on the side of her face and turned her head to look at him. The sadness that filled the beautiful green orbs nearly broke him.
"We're coping," he whispered.
She looked away again, trying not to let him see the fresh tears that were welling up in her eyes. After a few minutes of her silently crying while he sat at her feet, she drew in a shaky breath. "Do you love me?"
Wes glanced up at her, and saw her staring intently at him. He smiled at her, and leaned up to kiss her lips lightly.
"Yes."
She knew it was a lie. She didn't love him either. She tried to tell herself that she did, she tried so hard to, but she never could.
He gently pulled her to her feet, and took her in his arms. He breathed in the intoxicating scent of her red hair, and tried to fight back tears of his own.
"Lets go to bed," she whispered, and led him back to the bedroom they had spent so many sleepless nights in. She crawled quietly into the bed, and he followed suit.
They remained silent, both knowing that this was all they had. There was no one else to run to, and they knew tomorrow would come with or without them. It always had, and it always would.
She knew he liked his solitude, but longed for a companion when he couldn't bear the pain anymore.
He knew she needed someone to feel close to, even if it meant living a lie.
She still cried in her sleep, and he still woke from nightmares of past events.
They fell asleep in each other's arms, each knowing that they would wake in the morning and pretend like everything was fine. They would continue the façade they felt secure in, even though they knew it was a lie.
And so it would continue, week after week, month after month, year after year, until they could bear it no longer. But until that time came, they pretended like their love was the only thing keeping them going.