Author: ophelia11
Email: mistressofangst@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13 for pottymouths and innuendo. Strong chance for naughtiness later on.
Disclaimer: The story is mine. The characters are not. :(
Feedback: Pretty please? Please leave feedback on the Impulse thread on the Kitten Board.
Summary: Can a chance meeting lead to love?

Impulse - A sudden wish or urge that prompts an unpremeditated act or feeling; an abrupt inclination

Willow shot up with a start and fell off the couch in a startled heap. She glanced around the darkened apartment nervously, but didn't notice anything out of place. "Stupid nightmare," she muttered.

A sharp pain shot through her right arm when she made an initial effort to stand. She rubbed her elbow and sat up slowly, twisting to lean against the couch. With the heel of her palms, she pressed into her eyes, willing away the haunting images. Strands of red hair were damp and matted to her head. She blinked several times to adjust her eyes.

Outside, the sun was long ago settled and the moon glowed against the blackened sky. Willow sighed heavily. She'd spent another day locked away in her apartment and what was meant to be a quick nap turned in to a restless sleep. Now night settled over the city, casting shadows through her two bedroom apartment.

Her living space could be described as open, spacious, even modern. In reality, she knew it was stark. The front door opened into a short hall that doubled as the entranceway. Near the door was a small table that served as catch-all for mail, keys, cell phone and other pocket knick-knacks. On the opposite wall was a coat closet that easily rivaled the bedroom closet she used as a child.

The hallway opened up to a broad space which held the bare necessities in ways of furniture. A plush couch stretched across the width of the room. Its charcoal fabric stood out against the white walls but served to ground the otherwise sparse room. A well-loved cherry coffee table was centered in front and a tall lamp was along the left arm, closest to the dining room. Two barrel chairs sat opposite. Their lines and curves spoke more to their cost than their comfort. In the shadows of the room they sat vacant, awaiting guests that rarely came.

To the left of the living room, an arched doorway led to a small dining room. Inside, a plain oak table was centered, a thin layer of dust extending over the surface. A collection of candles were centered on it, melted slightly by time, rather than fire. Like the main area, the walls were empty, awaiting artwork, shelves, or portraits to grace their surface.

At the other end of the living room was a raised hardwood floor that ended at curtained windows. On the left was a doorway to the guest room that doubled as an office. The door was always closed and easily blended in with the rest of the wall. The kitchen sat to the right and could be accessed through the living room or off the step-up. It had an open layout so someone retrieving a snack could easily look out over the room.

Off to the right, a small alcove held a series of doors. One led to a utility closet that Willow avoided at all costs. In addition to the water heater and other inner workings of the apartment, it also held the toolbox her friend Xander insisted on purchasing. Since its arrival, she'd used it exactly twice. Once to hammer a nail in the wall to hang the telephone and once to reattach the plastic pole to her bedroom blinds.

Straight ahead was a storage closet which contained stacks of boxes she'd never bothered to unpack. Posters and photographs were neatly stored away from the sun. More importantly, they were well hidden from eyes that could no longer bear being reminded of happier times.

The final door opened to the master bedroom. It, too, was devoid of decorations but she did take the time to make it comfortable. A king-sized bed was centered along one wall and covered with a down comforter and several oversized pillows. The linens were all shades of deep green and gave the room a regal look. Two simple oak night-stands framed the bed, each with a matching lamp. On the one near the window, a book of poems sat face down, marked with the corner of an old envelope a third of the way through. It had one drawer and the shelf below held a small tissue box.

In the corner opposite the door a small tan upholstered chair sat. It followed her travels from her first dorm room and was the only item, other than the bed, that felt like it belonged. Next to it the dresser extended the length of the wall under the small window. Also made of oak, its design was simple and classic. The surface was empty, giving the room a sterile feel.

Willow's master bathroom was adorned with similar tones of green. She complimented them with rich brown rugs and decorative towels. Of all the rooms, this was the most homey. The linen closet was neatly organized to the right of the door. Near the tub was a small plastic stand which held several bath salts and gels ranging from fruity to floral. The curtain was a wild mosaic of leaves in all shapes, sizes and colors.

There was more than enough money to properly furnish the apartment, but Willow never felt inclined to do so. After moving in, her friends hoped that living in the heart of the city would motivate her social and professional life. Almost a year later, though, work was dwindling and socializing was nonexistent. The only thing that kept her there now was a sense of safety. The building was securely locked at all times. A series of rotating guards worked behind a small desk on the main floor. Given the pricetag of apartments in the building, they more often served as glorified greeters. In her short life, she already knew security had a price she was willing to pay.

She tested both arms and no longer felt any intense pain. It was still an effort to push off the floor and she groaned as smaller jolts of pain shot out through her body. Once standing, she reached over to flip on the floor lamp near the couch. Again, her eyes were forced to adjust to the abrupt lighting change.

With one hand, she reached back to work a knot from her neck and walked over to the curtained window. The view was one of the few perks of the apartment that she really enjoyed. Glass stretched from floor to ceiling, though at the moment lush, maroon sueded curtains sheltered her from the rest of the world. She edged the fabric back and stepped forward. Outside, storm clouds were rolling in, but no rain fell. Several stories down, the nightlife was only beginning to emerge as Friday night was still young. Willow had no interest in joining that life and let the fabric fall back in to place.

Walking away from the window, a tingle itched at the back of her neck and shivered down her spine. She knew all too well the things that lurked in the shadows outside her small haven. When she reached the couch, she sat to one corner and tightened her body in to a ball. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and continued to shiver.

Several minutes of focused breathing allowed her to overcome the chill and push aside dark thoughts. Her eyes drifted to the digital display on the cable box and realized it was far later than she originally thought. Only a few minutes before nine left her a very small window to make a call.

She stood and walked toward the cordless phone that hung just inside the kitchen. A quick glance at the sticker on the receiver reminded her of the speed dial number. With a few button presses she was soon listening to a familiar ring.

Several blocks away, faces moved in and out of the Dragon Palace. Couples and friends huddled around most of the tables sharing food and laughter. A steady stream of other patrons rolled in and out collecting bags of takeout, rushing to avoid the storm building outside.

Toward the back of the restaurant there was a counter with a few aged stools set up. The passage to the kitchen was slightly off centered. On the right side a cash register and credit card machine were setup. Bright yellow take-out menus were stacked neatly to the side. The rest of the space was taken up with canisters of mints and fortune cookies. A small sign was taped in front that said '.25 each'. Three stools were spaced along the other half of the counter and this side was vacant of clutter or merchandise.

It was rare that anyone other than an employee sat there so it became a spot where workers lingered whenever there were a few minutes to spare. Tonight Tara Maclay was seated on the end stool nursing a half-eaten egg roll. Her dirty blonde hair was twisted up behind her in a bun/ponytail combo. She wore baggy cargo pants and a long-sleeved grey v-neck t-shirt. On the next stool over, her messenger bag was held in place by a worn jean jacket. She shook her head adamantly, though a smile remained on her lips. "You're crazy. The foreign versions are always scarier." Her comment was directed to a younger man leaning against the wall next to the register.

"Okay did you see 'The Grudge' or were your eyes closed?" Matt ribbed her good-naturedly. "Besides the fact that I find movies far scarier when I don't have to read them. Nothing like the subtitle telling you something bad is going to happen before it actually happens." Though there were a few years between them, they became fast friends after the blonde's first few visits to the restaurant. His parents owned it, and after his older brother was accepted to medical school he became destined to one day run it. If having his future already mapped out bothered him, he didn't show it.

"Do not even start with the reading thing again. There is way more suspense. I would think you'd find Ju-On scarier 'cause the American version waters down the whole skeezy man angle." She shook her head again in feigned disappointment.

"Are you going to launch in to one of your sexism and horror debates again? 'Cause if you are I think I have a table to clean." He grinned widely though he knew his charm was wasted on her.

Tara huffed in response. "No I'm not, but when you look at the popular Japanese horror movies, at the root of most of them is a man that did something stupid which was likely motivated by thinking with his penis."

He rolled his eyes though he knew she had a point. "I still prefer not reading the dialogue, but fine. Although 'The Grudge' was equally scary redone with that spooky kid."

Chuckling, "You really hate the ones with a kid. You couldn't even survive 'Pet Semetary' without a night light." She smirked, fully enjoying the exchange.

His face grew serious, "We swore we would never talk about that."

Warm laughter filled the air around them, "And it'll remain our secret."

"Secret? Who has a secret?" An amused voice interrupted.

Tara turned and grinned. "Danny!" She threw her arms around his neck and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

"You know...I wish I had this effect on more women." He returned the hug and took a step back.

"Hey, Danny, my man!" Matt held out a hand to his friend.

Dan appraised him with some suspicion, but eventually gave in and shook. "It's Dan. One of these days I'm going to have to deck you, just so you know."

Matt's toothy grin didn't fade in the slightest. "Yeah, yeah. How ya been man?"

He took several seconds to consider his response. "Good. You?"

"Eh. Same old grind." Matt shrugged. His dark eyes hinted that more existed behind them, but his good-buddy demeanor never wavered to reveal what that might be.

Dan nodded once before turning his attention back to Tara. Wordlessly, he raised one eyebrow which indicated the question was now directed to her.

She nodded. "Things are good. No exciting developments to report."

"Too bad." He cocked his head to one side. "No new 'special someone'?"

"Not since she had to change her cell number again after the last 'someone special'." Matt couldn't help but chuckle. The only person that seemed to have worse luck in the romance department than he did, was Tara.

She responded with a sharp glare, but eventually conceded. "Thank you very much for the support. Anyway, a definite 'no' to that. I think I really should be single for awhile."

"Understandable. Though if you change your mind, I know the perfect girl. I could make a call." From someone else, the offer would've seemed a joke. His features were soft and told her he was sincere.

Smiling, "I appreciate the offer, but I don't think so."

Dan nodded. "Fair enough. But if you change your mind..."

She smiled robotically. I'm afraid to see his idea of the perfect girl. "I know who to call."

"Don't think I don't know you're placating me," he grinned. "I do think you should try to get out more in a non-dating, social way. If you spend any more time here you're going to permanently smell like shrimp puffs and egg rolls."

"Hey!" Matt and Tara cried in unison.

Dan could only chuckle at the matching looks of offense on their faces. Turning to Matt, "If it makes you feel any better, you smell like a regular puff."

Tara snickered under her breath. The shrill ring of the phone cut through the noise and interrupted their dispute.

Matt stuck his tongue out at the blonde before reaching for the handset. "Dragon Palace." He sighed and glanced over his shoulder. "Sorry, lady. His shift ended at nine....yeah, all right. I'll check. Hold on." He pressed a button on the receiver and set down the phone. He disappeared briefly in to the back and returned, rolling his eyes.

"Another of Jake's secret admirers?" Dan queried.

"I wish. Just some kooky lady nearby wanting take out. She calls ever so often and Jake will deliver food to her apartment. No happy meal home deliveries tonight, though." He started to reach for the phone, but Dan stopped him.

"You guys don't deliver..." It was an obvious statement, but he was having trouble understanding the situation.

"No kidding. But she pays like twice what the order totals just to have it brought to her. Like I said...kook." Matt looked at him with an odd expression, wondering why he was taking an interest.

"Is she handicapped?" Tara, too, was intrigued by the call and confused by her reaction.

"I don't think so. Jake said she was pretty hot, but real skittish. What's the deal, Tara? Why's it matter?" He was becoming frustrated that she continued to drag on the conversation. There were plenty of other things he needed to do and just wanted to get the unusual woman off the phone.

Tara shrugged. "I don't know. It just seems like she's going to a lot of trouble. Makes you kinda wonder why someone would pay that kind of money to have food from a few blocks away." Her face scrunched in thought.

Matt shook his head. "Maybe it makes you wonder. Me? Not so much."

"Fine. But there are plenty of delivery places in this area. Why pay more to order from a place that doesn't offer it?"

He smirked. "K-O-O-K."

For some reason Tara didn't feel right laughing at the stranger's expense and reached out to swat his arm. "Stop. It sounds more sad than crazy." She was quiet for a few seconds while she worked out details in her mind and finally nodded to herself with a new found resolve. You said she lives near here, right? I'm on my way home anyway so it's not far..."

"You have got to be kidding me." Matt looked at her with disbelief. "There is no way I'm going to let you go drop off food at some stranger's apartment." He looked to Dan for support, but the other man merely shrugged.

Tara looked at him incredulously. "Let me?"

Chagrined, Matt spoke more calmly. "You know what I meant."

"Maybe. But this isn't about you letting me do anything. If she was really that weird or a nuisance or whatever then Jake would have said something, right?" She watched him for a reaction and he managed a non-committal shrug. "Just take her order." Her eyebrows raised in such a way that he had flashes of his mother's stern look as a child and he threw his hands up in surrender.

Meanwhile, Dan turned an inquisitive eye toward Tara. "Care to explain?"

Tara shook her head, "Even if I could..."

"You know this wasn't quite what I had in mind by the 'getting out more' speech." He smiled and was pleased to see her do the same.

"Yeah, yeah."

"I can go with you if you'd like?" The first time he met Tara, there was an instant attraction...at least from him. After being politely dismissed, they found they had a lot in common and became friends. Since then, he kept a protective eye on her, much like a big brother.

"Thanks, but I'll be okay."

Matt was still shaking his head as he finished up the call. "Uh huh. Uh huh. All right. We'll have it over to you soon." He reached for the notepad and began writing. When he was finished he raised his head and shook it at Tara. "Sometimes I worry about you."

"Just get back to the kitchen, you." He disappeared again and Tara shifted impatiently, waiting for the order to be completed. What have I gotten myself in to now?

"It was just a bad dream, Buffy. I feel silly enough about it." Willow was pacing around her apartment.

"I know, but I've had some doozies over the years too. I just wanna make sure you're okay."

"That's sweet, really. But even if I wasn't, it's not like you can hop on a plane. I don't even remember all the details," she lied. "But boy did my elbow hurt when I fell on it." Willow hoped she could lighten the conversation.

"Okay, okay. But if you have anymore, you'll call?" The concern was evident in Buffy's voice.

"Promise. Now you promise to check your email and go over the final preparations I sent?" In the last few years, Buffy became much more adept at using the computer and Willow enjoyed having an online buddy.

"Yeah, yeah. How much should I run by Dawn?"

"As little as possible. I know it's her party, but if it were up to her everyone would be in expensive shoes drinking cheap beer and eating sliders. College taste should never be trusted outside of the dorms." She grinned thinking about her little sister by-proxy.

Buffy's laugh was hardy and burst through the phone line. "This is true. Okay, I'm getting ready to go out, but I'll check my email first thing tomorrow."

"Which if memory serves, will be some time after one," she teased.

"Ha ha. There are no longer good cartoons on Saturday morning so what else am I supposed to do?"

Sighing, "You're right. What was I thinking?"

"Exactly." Buffy punctuated her answer with a huff for emphasis. "Okay, I'm going. Love you."

"Love you too." Willow smiled and waited to hear the click of the phone hanging up. She returned the phone to its cradle. The clock now read 9:20 and she opted for a quick shower to wash away the last remnants of her dream.

Tara sat on her stool swinging her legs randomly to amuse herself. Dan excused himself a few minutes earlier and she waited idly for the food to be complete. Her eyes darted around the back of the restaurant, never landing on anything for more than a few seconds. What am I doing?

She didn't have time to ponder answers before Matt emerged from the back. He carried several Styrofoam containers to the counter and began bagging them. Tara stood slowly, put on her jacket and crossed the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Matt approached with two plastic bags nearly full. He placed them in front of Tara and looped the handles in to a knot. "Wow. I guess if you're paying for a delivery, you might as well make it worth your while."

"I guess." He shrugged. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Smiling, "It's a little late for second guesses don't you think?" She pulled the wallet out of her jacket pocket and pulled out several bills.

Matt hesitated, not wanting to take the money but knowing it needed to be in the drawer at the end of the night. "I mean I could probably take a little time and go with you..." He stopped when he saw Tara shaking her head.

"Matt, I appreciate the concern, but it's fine. No worries. Now give me the food, write down the address and I'll be on my way."

The dark haired man was still shaking his head as he wrote. "I want you to call me when you get there, okay?"

"If you really want me to, I will. Granted I will still have to deliver the food after that, but if my arrival is the ultimate concern..." She enjoyed teasing him. Many times he would wind himself up so tightly while she stayed relaxed.

Interrupting her, Matt spoke with a flat tone. "You know what I mean. Be careful. It's supposed to start storming any time now."

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. When she pulled back, she placed a light kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for looking out for me, but I'm sure it's fine. I might swing by the video store afterwards so I'll give you a call or text you or something when I'm home."

"Fine, fine. Now get out of here." His goofy smile was back and he pointed toward the front door.

Tara nodded and picked up the bags from the counter. She maneuvered through the full tables and pressed her back against the door to push it open. The air was a little chilly and she shivered as she made her way down the sidewalk toward her car. With some effort she was able to get the bags in to the front passenger seat without spilling anything.

She pulled her jacket tighter around her as she walked around to the driver's door. Once inside, she shoved the key in to the ignition and waited impatiently for the heat to kick on. The address was scribbled on a scrap of paper clutched in her hand. She unfolded it and read the address. Though she was not sure of the exact location, she knew the general area and pulled out in that direction.

Roughly ten minutes later Tara pulled in to an open spot in front of one of the nicest apartment buildings downtown. "I guess someone that pays double for home delivery should live in a place like this." She suddenly felt underdressed and looked down at her clothing. This is ridiculous. I'm just making a delivery.

She took a deep breath and pushed open the car door. The wind was picking up outside so she moved quickly to the passenger door. After retrieving the two bags, she pressed the automatic lock button and closed the door. She made her way to the well lit entrance. There was an intercom system at the door, but she heard a buzz and click when she approached. Once inside she was stopped by a man in uniform.

"I'm here to deliver take-out to apartment 15-A?" Though she knew she had a legitimate reason to be in the building, all the security was intimidating.

The man looked to be in his early 30's and light blonde hair peaked out from beneath his hat. He sensed the young woman's nervousness and offered a warm smile. "It's all right, miss. I was told to expect you."

She smiled with relief. Nodding toward the elevators, "Do I need a code for the elevator?"

"I'll get you set, ma'am." He paused, "Doesn't a guy usually do this?"

"Yes, sir. He was already off shift so I'm the temporary substitute." The bags seemed to get heavier the longer they stood. Each passing moment in the lobby made her feel more out of place.

Realizing he was making the young woman uncomfortable, he escorted her to an elevator and pressed the up arrow. "You're all set."

"Thank you." Tara stepped in to the car and was grateful when the doors closed and it began moving toward its destination. As she moved higher, though, she found the nervousness from downstairs returned with a vengeance. Why in the world am I so nervous?

The elevator seemed to glide to a stop and the doors spread open. Elegant carpet stretched the length of the hallway and various art pieces hung on the wall. It felt more like a hotel than an apartment building and she was reminded again at her very different economic status. She stepped out and felt, rather than saw, the doors close behind her. No turning back now.

There were only four doors that she saw and she was impressed by the apparent size of each apartment. Mine would fit at least twice. Spotting her destination ahead, she moved toward it. For no explainable reason the Darth Vader theme began playing in her head and she couldn't help but giggle.

Willow had to admit that the shower made her feel immensely better. The hot water and steam worked their magic on her sore muscles and left her feeling refreshed. She turned the knobs to shut off the water and reached up to wring out her hair. One arm snuck around the shower curtain and felt around for the fresh towel she'd hung. She pulled it back inside and dried herself, slightly protected from the cooler air that was waiting just outside. Finally, she flipped her hair over and wrapped the towel around her head.

As expected, the chill hit her immediately after she pulled back the cloth barrier. Without hesitation, she grabbed the terricloth robe hanging off the back of the door and quickly wrapped it around her. She exited the room and turned toward her bedroom to retrieve clothes. A soft knock on her door interrupted the journey and she froze.

The debate in her mind started and ended quickly. She certainly preferred answering a door fully dressed as opposed to her robe but was afraid dressing would take too long. Though it was hardly a compromise, she pulled the towel from her head and tossed it over the corner of the bathroom door. Cursing under her breath, she made her way to the front door, using her fingers to comb out her hair as she walked.

She'd lived in the city for many years but mostly kept to herself. Because of this, she really didn't know that many people. When she peaked through the peephole on the door, the person on the other side was unfamiliar. For the life of her, she couldn't decide what to do. She looked down and berated herself for choosing the bathrobe. Swallowing hard, she managed to speak with a crisp voice. "Who is it?"