'Sort Of' A Problem

* ‘Sort of’ A Problem *

“I don’t like him.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head at his older brother. “Colour me surprised. I thought the two of you were getting on like a couple of old buddies.”

Dean sent his brother a glare that could have melted lead. Sam only rolled his eyes again before throwing his duffel bag on the bed closest to the bathroom. His eyes traveled over the room Willow’s friend had led them too, noting with relief that the mattress looked like a human might be able to sleep on it, and there were no mysterious stains on either the carpet or the walls. A quick peek into the bathroom showed a facility that did indeed looked like it had been cleaned in the past month.

Sleeping in motels might be easy for their lifestyle, but it sure was good to feel safe about using the toilet again.

“I can’t believe she’s friends with him!” Dean growled from somewhere behind him. A quick look at his brother’s face told Sam that Dean had yet to appreciate the cleanliness of their new room. No, from the way Dean was frowning, his face starting to turn an unhealthy shade of red, and the manner in which he threw his duffel bag onto his bed, Sam could tell that Dean was feeling very appreciative of anything right now. And it all had to do with Willow’s other just-off-amnesia friend.

A friend who was ‘sort of’ a vampire.

Sam wasn’t quite sure it anyone could be a ‘sort of’ vampire. From what his crash course in the subject back when the family had gone after the Colt, he got the impression that being a vampire was an all or nothing situation. But Willow seemed to think otherwise, and she had informed them of this seconds before introducing them to her friend Angel, the ‘sort of’ vampire.

To say that Dean was upset with that revelation would be an understatement. But that was nothing compared to what must have been going through his brother’s mind when his wife skipped into the darkened infirmary room (this place had an infirmary that most private clinics would kill for) and right into the arms of another man. Another man she reiterated that was ‘just a friend’ after she noticed the death look Dean was giving him. Well, to be more specific, after Angel had noticed the death look Dean was giving him and mentioned it to Willow. She then first explained to Dean that Angel was a good friend from back when she was in high school, and then explained to Angel that Dean was her husband.

Sam thought it was a huge step that Willow didn’t introduce Dean to Angel as her ‘sort of’ husband, and might have brought this up to Dean if he thought his brother was in any way, shape or form, capable of entertaining rational thought. But unfortunately, Dean was long past the arena of rational anything, and it took a lot of Sam’s intervention to keep Dean from doing something that would have upset Willow.

“What was with the ‘Willow, we need to talk in private’ bullshit?” Dean’s continuing tirade pulled Sam out of his thoughts. His older brother was now sitting on his bed, viciously yanking his shoelaces out of the knots, and tossing his boots to the corner of the room with more force than was necessary. “Who the hell does this guy think he is? Trying to chase me off so he can mutter something into my wife’s ears-“

“Did you even notice the part where Willow said it was okay to talk in front of us?” Sam interjected in his best ‘let’s-not-be-crazy’ voice. It sometimes worked on his brother, and sometimes it didn’t. Willow had her own version of this voice, and it never failed to work on Dean. Unfortunately, Willow wasn’t here and Dean wasn’t in the mood to be ‘not-crazy’.

“Who the hell is he trying to shut us out of this?” Dean continued to fume. “Willow’s my wife; this whole thing is most definitely my problem as well. And did you see the way he was glaring at me? Like I was the dangerous creature that Willow was obliviously playing friends with.”

“I wouldn’t say anything like that to your wife,” Sam cautioned, though he was starting to suspect that Dean had forgotten his brother was in the room. His brother had worked himself up into a fine state by now, yanking off his shirt and tossing it angrily across the room.

“And the rest of these people!” Dean emitted a small growl. Sam arched an eyebrow. His brother just growled. Interesting. “Trying to get us away from Willow. And acting like that’s not what they’re doing. Like I can’t tell the second we were gone they were asking her all sorts of questions. Probably think we’ve got some sort of weird mind control thingy going on. I ought to go back there and-“

“Do nothing,” Sam finished for him. “You don’t need to worry about anything. Yeah, they don’t trust us. That’s because they don’t know us. And if we’re honest, we would admit that we don’t trust them that much either. But there’s one thing that’s keeping us all here and away from each other’s throats. Willow trusts all of us. And so, we’re going to have to learn to play nice, because that’s what Willow wants. And more importantly, that’s what she needs. From you, in particular. So calm down and just fess up to the thing that’s really bothering you right now.”

Dean’s eyes snapped his way, and that deadly look was back on his brother’s face. “Don’t know what you’re getting at, Sammy,” Dean grumbled, his tone lowering when he uttered his brother’s nickname, as if in warning. “I’m upset because I was just escorted away from my wife, who’s probably still in the clutches of a vampire.”

“Considering that’s not quite what happened, I’m going to have to say no, that’s not why you’re upset,” Sam fixed his brother with what he hoped was a reprimanding look. “You need to stop avoiding the issue and making accusations like a child. Willow put all stops to people trying to shut us out, and you know it. Her friends may not like it, or understand it, but they know that she isn’t going to put up with it, and they’re not going to try again. We both know the real reason why you’re upset. Just suck it up and admit it.”

Dean’s face had gone almost purple by this point, and if he had any common sense, Sam would have stopped pushing. But he was tired of watching Dean rant and rave, and he knew the only way he was going to get any sleep tonight was to either get his brother to fess up, or make his brother so annoyed that he refused to talk to Sam. Either way, the talking and the screaming and the throwing-it was all going to stop.

“Just admit that you’re upset because for the first time in over three years, you aren’t going to be able to sleep with Willow for the night.”

There. It was out there in the open now. Let Dean try to deny it. Sam levelled his brother with a smug look, daring him to say something. His brother’s face was still red, though edging away from purple and heading more towards a pink tone. The air had gone out of him; Dean knew there was no use in denying it. That didn’t mean that he was going to give his brother the satisfaction of actually saying he was right, but Sam didn’t need that. The silence was enough to tell him that he was right.

“Kind of too old to need a security blanket at night, big brother.”

That last part was admittedly, unnecessary. But Sam couldn’t help himself. And therefore, he could hardly blame his brother when Dean picked up one of his boots and chucked it at his head. Sam had the sense to duck, chuckling in a way only a younger sibling could when they had the older one caught in an embarrassing confession.

“Dude, shut the fuck up.”

That only made him laugh harder.

“Dude, seriously. I will mess you up if you don’t shut it.”

It was unbelievably hilarious.

Another boot came his way, hitting him in the chest because he failed to react right away. It hurt a bit, but not enough to make him stop laughing.

“I hate you.”

***

Willow lay back in her bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering where sleep had flown off to. It was well past four a.m., and this little witch had had quite enough excitement for the day. The emotional strain of seeing Angel, comparing stories, and still not getting any closer to the truth had worn her out. Also, Rhona had managed to check in before Willow had been escorted off to bed. The Slayer hadn’t any news; only reporting that she had landed and that they should be at the site in the next few days.

Angel had been tired, confused, and incredibly relieved to see someone from the old Sunnydale gang. The feeling had been mutual, and though she was kind of embarrassed to admit it, she had kind of forgotten about Dean and Sam whilst caught up in the reunion. She felt bad about it, especially considering she could understand what Dean’s reaction would be to seeing his wife jump into another man’s arms. But her brain had flown off in a few seconds of unbelievable relief at seeing one of her old friends, alive and kicking.

Of course, the relief hadn’t lasted very long. Angel had even less of a clue about what was happening than she did, and unfortunately didn’t seemed to be as interested in discussing it as he was in fighting with Dean.

Oh, there wasn’t anything obvious about it. There was the occasional glaring, a few tense silent periods, and the subtle changing of subjects when one of the men thought the other couldn’t be trusted with the truth of the situation. Which basically meant nothing important was discussed, though she’s not sure if anything important could be discussed anywhere.

Angel was in the same boat as her. The last thing he remembered was heading out to the parking lot of Wolfram and Hart, and then he was in Toronto. He had apparently met up with a woman named Natalie, who had some ideas on the things that went bump in the night. She had figured out what he was before he did, and then had spent the past three years seeing if she could cure him of vampirism. Angel didn’t remember one day of it, and this Natalie woman had been extremely patient and kind when the shit hit the fan, so to speak. Angel said something about calling her before heading off to bed, which had Willow’s interest peaked. But she let it slide, because she knew Angel wouldn’t be any better able to explain than she would be able to explain the Winchesters. Better to put it off until a good night’s sleep could be had and once properly rested, she could face the ever-growing mountain of problems and questions.

Only one problem with that whole philosophy; she couldn’t sleep. She had been trying, for well over three hours, and yet she got nothing. And the thing was, she was really tired. Utterly exhausted, if you really got down to it; she should be able to sleep. It was unbelievable that her eyes were still open, especially when her eyelids threatened to drop. But they just didn’t. Every time they got close, some weird feeling would hit her and then sleep would vanish.

Willow squirmed in her bed, pushing the covers down her legs and sitting upright. Her eyes traveled the dark room, noting that none of her things had been moved. They had kept it just the same. They knew she was coming back, they had held onto that belief harder than she could have ever imagined. The thought made her chest hurt and tears threatened in her eyes. She was tired, scared, and she needed to sleep.

Willow leaned up against her headboard, unable to shake that weird feeling in her stomach. Something was wrong. There was something missing in this whole equation. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she knew that it was the reason why she couldn’t get to sleep. She scrunched up her nose and banged her head lightly on the wall behind her. She so needed sleep, but she wasn’t getting any. It was terribly unfair.

Frustrated, she swung her legs around and hopped off her bed. Her slippers were still in the closet, and so was her robe. She threw both on and made her way out of the room. Maybe a little wandering would wear her out enough to force sleep upon her. She wasn’t willing to believe that it would, but she could be optimistic.

She shuffled down the corridor of closed doors, hearing the occasional sounds of snoring behind a few of them. Her eyes landed on the door she knew hid Dean and Sam from her view. It took a lot of glaring before Kit agreed to put them relatively close to her room, and neither the Junior Watcher nor Angel had been happy about her insistence on the matter. But she could have cared less at that point. Dean and Sam were staying, and that was that. She was sick of debating that issue.

Willow shook her head and chased away the annoying thoughts. She knew the situation was weird, but that didn’t mean she could just agree to shove her new family out the door. The thought of them leaving made her kind of panicked. She couldn’t explain that to Angel or Kit, and she didn’t bother trying. It should have been more than enough that it was what she wanted. But given the circumstances, she could see why they were hesitant. She could see their side of this, but she didn’t quite care. She wanted them here, and that meant they were going to stay.

She wondered how much worse the situation would get when Dad arrived.

She made her way down the hall, seeing a light on in the Common Room. The dormitory section of the Cleveland HQ was built much like they were in the Harry Potter books, and it wasn’t by coincidence. Dawn had seen the movies, and she figured all private schools should look like that. And when Dawn got ideas in her head, it was usually better to go along with them then to argue. Besides, not too many Scoobies were going to fight her on this one. Everyone loved the Common Rooms. Couches, televisions, books, a coffee machine, a computer bank-it was heaven, especially when one was having trouble trying to sleep. It was somewhere comfy to go and waste time until your body gained enough common sense to go to sleep.

She wondered who would be up at this time of night, and immediately figured it was a Slayer, hot off patrol and trying to unwind a bit before heading off to bed. Her mind flitted through the list of Slayers on this floor and felt a smile touch her face. It would be nice to chat with one of the girls. It had been too damn long since Willow had a chance to talk with a Slayer. Thinking that she had been away from them for three years made her heart ache just a bit.

Willow turned the corner, all thoughts of Slayers leaving her head as her eyes fell on the figure of her husband. Dean was slumped on one of the couches, flipping aimlessly through channels on the television. The sound was off, so she knew that he wasn’t really watching anything. He was thinking about something, and this channel surfing thing was just something to preoccupy his hands with while he mulled it over.

She frowned. That was another thing she shouldn’t know, but still she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was right. Willow rubbed at her temples and wondered when the flashes of déjà vu would disappear and the actual memories return. She was tired of having flashes of recognition that came and went. She wanted something solid to go on. She wanted to remember something real about this man and the past three years with him.

“Willow?”

She had waited too long in the doorway. He saw her, and there was concern evident in his eyes. He had straightened up and he gave her a quick look up and down, no doubt searching for any sign of injury. She managed a weak smile for him and shuffled into the room to take a seat next to him.

“Can’t sleep,” she murmured in explanation. Understanding flashed across his face, and he dropped the remote immediately. He opened his arms, hesitantly at first, and Willow moved into them without thinking of it. It was once she settled down and actually snuggled into his side did she realize that the weird feeling had passed. Her eyelids felt heavier than before. She turned her head upwards and noticed the expectant look on Dean’s face. But she was too tired to say anything. For the first time that night, she felt relaxed and comfortable enough to sleep.

Willow rested her head on her husband’s chest and promptly fell asleep.

***