Title: Feathers

Author: Jeanny

Feedback: Please. jeannygrrl@hotmail.com

Distribution: I don't mind, just credit me and let me know where it's going.

Rating: G

Spoilers: Through Angel Season 2

Disclaimer: Angel: the Series and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, Fox, Mutant Enemy, Inc., the WB and any one else with a legal binding claim to the shows and/or characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: Fred gets settled on her first night home. Based on the Challenge In A Can challenge: Fred. Ecstatic. Pillow.

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She stared at the object in his hands like it might jump up and bite her. Angel watched her, bemused, as she reached out a trembling hand, poked it lightly and pulled away with a gasp. If nothing else, helping her settle in was distracting. He could use all diversion he could get right now; anything to keep from dwelling on Willow's unexpected visit, the 'what if's in his mind that might drive him mad. Instead he studied Fred's eyes, desperate to figure out what was wrong. They were impossibly wide as she backed away.

"I can't. I just can't, I'm sorry," she stammered anxiously.

Angel just gaped at her, astounded that she could accept his dangerous vampire nature without fear, yet freak over something so normal. He didn't get it.

"I don't get it."

"I just can't!" Her voice was ragged with burgeoning hysteria. He pulled back, alarmed, holding it away from her.

"Fred, it's okay. You don't have to use it. I just want you to be comfortable."

Fred froze, tilting her head at him like she was processing something new.

"Comfortable?" she echoed, confused.

"Yes...I know you've been living without...well, much of anything. So I wanted you to have something nicer than the standard hotel pillows. That one's down."

"Down?" she slowly repeated, as if trying to remember something long forgotten. Angel nodded encouragingly.

"Feathers."

"Feathers...oh my goodness..." Quick tears filled the Texan's eyes, and now she ran her hands over it, taking in the feel of the cool softness of the cotton slip with near rapture. "Oh wow...I remember this. I remember pillows." She grabbed the pillow from his hands, hugging it to her chest, hugging it and rocking back and forth in joy.

"What did you think it was?" Angel asked curiously. The brief return of her stricken look made him add hastily, "Never mind. Doesn't matter. As long as you're-oof!" He grunted as she dropped the pillow and with a delighted squeal wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Happy," he finished in a strained voice. Fred squeezed him tighter and Angel groaned, glad he had no need to breathe. Years as a Pylean slave had given her a powerful grip.

"I'm so...so...so..." she stammered.

"Happy?" he guessed.

"Ecstatic," she crowed, releasing him to scoop up the pillow once more. "I have a pillow. My own pillow...it is mine, right? Oh God, this is real, right? I'm not dreaming?"

Angel hastened to soothe her sudden anxiety.

"It's real. It's yours." He smiled at her. "You're really here, Fred. You're safe."

"And my pillow has feathers," she sighed.

"It does," he agreed a bit sadly. The way she held the pillow to her chest reminded him of a drowning victim with a life preserver. He knew better than anyone that sometimes the things that saved you were that seemingly inconsequential. Like a pillow made of feathers.

Or an unexpected snowfall.

Angel's descent into melancholy was stopped by his double-take, caused by Fred's faint muttered self-reassurance.

"And it won't eat my brain."

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FIN