I love waking up.

No, wait. Scratch that. I love waking up when I can do it in my own time. No alarm, no phone ringing, no Giles shaking me awake after I've fallen asleep at the keyboard. I like waking up when I'm in my own bed, all snuggled up, and I can come slowly back into the real world. I love that sort of waking up, which, fortunately, is what I get this morning.

I stretch and yawn, kicking back the covers in the process. I open my eyes just in time to see the door open and Buffy walk in, obviously back from the bathroom. The sight of her reminds me that we slept in the same bed again last night. We didn't discuss it or anything, it just seemed like a given. I wanted her there, she wanted to be there, it was the perfect solution to what wasn't really a problem. It's amazing how safe and loved I feel wrapped in her arms.

She closes the door behind her and smiles at me. I see her lips move and form the words 'Good morning' and I reply with a 'hey' before I realise that I hadn't actually heard the words. Buffy seems to realise it at the same time and she clears her throat before trying again. When no sound comes out her eyebrows crease in the cutest way, and her eyes widen slightly in a very controlled form of panic.

'Can you hear me?' she mouths at me.

I shake my head. What the hell is going on? 'No,' I mouth back. This is beginning to get scary. 'I've gone deaf!' I try to tell her.

She gets it, and shakes her head. 'I don't think so,' she mouths back at me, and I can tell she's automatically slowed her speaking pace and started to annunciate more. 'We can't speak!'

We can't speak? This is new.

I hate waking up.

Wait, maybe I haven't woken up yet. Maybe I ate something funny last night when Buffy took me out to dinner. Yeah, that's it. I'm just having some strange dream, and soon I'll wake up like I want to, warm and safe and snuggled up with Buffy. It's all just a dream.

Okay Willow, you've lived on the Hellmouth how long?

Buffy gives me a worried look, and goes to open the door. She looks out in the corridor for a second, and then closes the door again. When she turns back to me I already know what she saw.

'Everybody?' I mouth at her.

She just nods and moves over to where I'm sitting on the side of my bed. Sitting down next to me she pulls me into a fierce hug, and for a moment I don't care that I can't talk. After a minute, she eases her hold on me and turns me to face her. She's got the most intense look in her eyes, and somehow I just know that it's all for me. She reaches up and slowly traces her hand softly across my cheek, then moves it around to settle in my hair. For a moment she just looks at me, and then she moves slowly to brush her lips ever so softly against mine. When she moves back again that intense look is still in her eyes, and it's love that shines from them so brightly for a moment I'm afraid of being blinded.

It's amazing how much I love her.

I think she was trying to tell me something, because after a minute she stands up and she's all business. Something's up, and she's the Slayer. It's her job to fix this. Without words, she just told me how much she wishes she could stay with me rather than go out to find the cause of this problem. It doesn't matter that I'm going with her, there always has to be a distance in public.

For now, anyway.

Our friends don't know yet, and I'm good with that. I don't think I could handle telling them right now. Buffy might not care what people we don't really know think, but she's respecting what I want by not telling the gang. I think for her to keep that secret, she has to keep a firm control on herself. The last few days she's been relaxing around me, taking my hand without thinking about it, holding me close when we walk, putting her hand on my leg in class. I think she's had to be careful around me for a while now, and now that she's started letting that control go, she has a hard time regaining it when she needs to.

I love the affection from her, and I hate that she has to hide it. I'm determined that it won't be for long, I just have to wait until Oz isn't such a close shadow. I love Buffy, but I'm afraid if we tell the guys, they'll assume I'm running to Buffy on the rebound, and they won't want to see us get hurt. What they won't understand is that Buffy isn't the fallback. She never was, and she never will be. I love her so much it hurts, and I think I started to realise it even before Oz left.

She motions for me to get dressed, as she goes over to her closet to do the same. There's one person we go to when something weirder than normal happens, and since we can't call him, I guess we're going out.

-------------

Walking down the streets of Sunnydale, everything is so different. Over to our left there's a man sitting in the gutter hugging his briefcase, and down the street to the right there's a group of people reading passages from the bible. The bank's closed, but the liquor store is open. I never thought that the loss of speech would cause society to just shut down like this.

Okay, so truthfully I never thought about it at all, but I have a point. People don't really talk to each other much anyway, so why is speech so important? Friends should be able to communicate without words, and people in this country barely give the time of day to strangers, so why the big drama? I'll admit that it's a bit of a shock, but it's not like it's the end of the world or anything.

Not yet, anyway. You never know around here.

That's not my point. My point, as strange as it may be, is that I don't believe human society runs because we can talk. People who have been deaf from birth can't really talk, but they can still communicate. I knew exactly what it was that Buffy was trying to say to me this morning. So, logically, if everyone stopped panicking and thought about things a little, they'd realise that the power of speech isn't what makes us who we are. Language is just a modicum to convey our thoughts, feelings, and desires. Actually, language is a way to convey what we want and need without exposing ourselves. It puts a barrier between our feelings and how close we get to other people. It helps us avoid getting hurt, because we can brush things off with humour, or deny that we ever felt anything at all.

Really, when you get down to it, language is a defence. It's supposed to be a tool for communication, but we've gotten so skilled with it that it's now used so we don't have to communicate. We use words to say what we want without saying what we want. It's strange, but it's the way we work. We're hurt so much by ignorant children and insensitive adults when we're young that we become instinctively defensive, and words are what we use to put barriers between other people and our hearts.

With this loss of speech, Sunnydale shouldn't have shut down like this. But now, without the barrier of words, everyone, whether they know it or not, is afraid that others will finally see what it is they've been trying to hide about themselves. Society has suddenly shut down because everyone is suddenly living in fear.

I guess the freak-out factor is helping too.

Maybe I overlooked that. Maybe I just over-analyse. It could just be that everyone's in shock over the loss of their voices. I mean, it's not like it's a normal occurrence. Even with the selective blindness that comes from living on the Hellmouth, people just can't ignore this. When it's town wide, it kind of grabs people's attention. And maybe that's all it is. I just can't be objective because I'm used to the weirdness.

Still, I think I had something going with that whole communication theory. I don't know if it was something that made sense, but since it's in my head, I guess it doesn't really have to.

Over to the left there's a guy selling message boards at ten bucks a pop, and for some reason, that strikes me as funny. People in this country have five modes when something bad is happening. Number one, shut down and hope that ignoring the problem will make it go away. Number two, turn to religion - doesn't matter which, whatever's handy will do. Number three, booze, booze, and more booze. Number four, looting and vandalism, possibly with some booze thrown in. And finally, number five, and this is America to the core, rampant capitalism. Gotta love those people who can take a disaster and find some way to make money from it.

Buffy and I exchange and look, and I can tell she's thinking the same thing as me. Okay, so maybe not everything I was thinking, but she's thinking the same about the guy with the message boards. Her expression is half disgusted, half amused, and we stand there for a minute before we both suddenly turn and walk over to the guy selling the boards.

Okay, so how sad is that?

Let's not dwell on it. We're suckers, we can't help it.

Right. Moving on.

--------------

By the time we got to Giles', everyone else was already there. Well, not everyone, 'cause everyone wouldn't fit in Giles' living room, but Xander and Anya were there, and Giles' girlfriend as well. Olivia, I think her name is. It's so weird to think of Giles having a girlfriend. And kind of icky. I know he loved Miss Calendar, but still, he's Giles.

Plus, I used to have the biggest crush on him.

Over that now, by the way. So over that. I'm now happily in love with my best friend. And while there's a strange sense of déjà vu associated with that sentence, it's still more right now than it ever was with Xander.

Okay, admitting to my feelings about Buffy has really done something bad to my attention span. Three seconds of not concentrating on something, and my mind wanders to Buffy.

Hey, Willow? There's this little thing called focus. Can you remember what that is?

Oh, shut up.

Xander gives me a little wave, and Giles comes over and gives us both hugs. I love Giles' hugs. It used to be weird, since he was a teacher and all that, but now it's good. His hugs are really comforting. Not as comforting as Buffys, of course…

Willow! Heel!

I think I'm going insane.

I manage to rein in my wandering mind just in time to see Buffy ask Giles if he'd found anything. He shakes his head and Buffy points to his notebook on the table. Giles just shrugs, and then we're all distracted by Xander clicking at us.

Do you have any idea how annoying clicking is? I'm so glad I'm not a waitress.

Anyway, Xander stops clicking once he's gotten our attention, and he turns the TV up so we can hear it. It's obviously an out of town broadcast, because, well, the newsreader can actually speak, so it's a bit of a giveaway.

"Sunnydale has been quarantined die to a widespread outbreak of, as strange as this may sound, Laryngitis."

That's their explanation?

"While critics are calling it a city-wide hoax, a written statement has been issued blaming recent flu vaccinations. No one is allowed in, or out, of the town until the quarantine has been lifted."

Well, this is fun.

I didn't even have a flu shot.

Xander starts to yell at the television, or tries to, and it's kind of a funny sight with the lack of a soundtrack. Anya just shrugs and leans back into the couch, and after a moment, Buffy taps me on the arm to get my attention. She indicates the whiteboard still in my hands, and I hand it over. I get a smile for it, before Buffy turns her attention to what she wants to write. When she's finished, she holds it up for Giles, who gives her a puzzled expression. Buffy wipes her sleeve over the board to clear it, and writes something else. This time when she shows it to Giles he nods in understanding and then moves away to sit down at the table where his notes are spread everywhere.

Buffy watches him for a minute, and her expression is unreadable. It hate it when I can't read her, and unfortunately, it happens quite often. She's had so much practice guarding herself that it's almost an impossible barrier to break through. I can tell when she's got the walls up, but unless she lets me, I can't see what's behind them. I can read her so well when she's not hiding, but when she is… it bothers me that I can't see past that wall.

When she turns her attention back to me I can see those walls fall away. I don't understand it, but I don't think that guarding her thoughts and feelings it something that Buffy does consciously. At least not all the time. I think it's reflex, and I'm glad that she's overcome that instinct when it comes to me. That means more to me than I could ever express, and I wonder if Buffy knows that. I hope she does, or that I can find a way to show her.

Without even thinking about it, I reach for her hand. It seems that she needed to contact just as much as me, and she gives my hand a squeeze and flashes me a grateful look. For a minute she just looks at me, and for a minute I forget that I ever could speak.

Shaking herself out of her daze, Buffy mouths three words to me. 'Tonight. Town. Chaos.'

I nod and squeeze her hand, telling her that I understand. 'I'll go with you,' I try to tell her, but she shakes her head.

'Danger.'

It's my turn to shake my head. 'Don't care. With you.'

She hesitates a moment, but then her face breaks into a smile. She nods, and I give her a hug before gesturing in Giles' general direction, thinking that we should help. Buffy shakes her head, and after a moment's confusion I get that she means that there's nothing we could do to help right now.

I think Xander and Anya must have worked that out as well, because they're both up off the couch and looking at us expectantly. Well, okay, they're more kind of looking at Buffy, since she's the leadery type person who's not currently wrapped up in a book. Buffy just shrugs at Xander's expectant look, and he nods. He makes some strange gesture toward the door, and then points at himself, so I'm guessing that meant that he and Anya are going back to his place. I don't want a more descriptive idea from those two, and Buffy obviously doesn't either, as she just nods and waves them away. Xander gives us both a hug, then Anya grabs his hand and pulls him out the door.

I turn to Buffy and give her a questioning look. We can't help here, so what is there that we can do? I don't really feel like walking through town any more than we have too, since we're going to be out tonight, but sitting in our dorm room and not being able to speak doesn't really appeal either. We could always try to get some work done, but it's almost finals, and we've been studying almost non-stop anyway. Well, I have. I'm pretty sure Buffy hasn't even opened a textbook.

Buffy smiles at me and takes my hand, leading me to the door. We've always held hands before, but I don't think I ever realised just how much that contact really meant to me. Even in a situation like this, especially in a situation like this, that one simple contact is always more comfort and reassurance than I'd care to admit.

Buffy taps Giles on the shoulder to get his attention, and indicates to him that we're leaving. He just nods and goes back to his books, his forehead creased in concentration. After another smile for me, Buffy leads me out the door, and I'm suddenly wondering if being alone together without being able to speak is such a bad idea after all.

-------------

Back at the dorm, we're somewhat at a loss for things to do. I know what I'm thinking, and I'm pretty sure Buffy's feeling the same way, but for some reason we've both avoided eye contact since Giles' place, and haven't even tried to communicate. I've been sneaking glances at Buffy from across the room for the last ten minutes, and I'm sure she's doing her best to avoid looking at me. If I didn't know better I would think she was nervous, but why would she be nervous around me?

I mean, even if she's thinking along the lines that I am, she can't possibly know I'm thinking the same thing, so it's not like she can be nervous about something that's about to happen, because she doesn't know if it will, and I'm fairly certain she won't make a move until I do, so she's got nothing to be nervous about until I do something, which will then tell her that I want what she wants, so there's no need for her to be nervous. Unless she doesn't want that, and thinks that I do, and she doesn’t know how to turn me down without hurting my feelings. Or maybe she doesn't want to turn me down, but thinks I don't really know what I want.

I'm so confused.

All right, I'm over thinking this. Over-analysing. She's probably not thinking anything of the sort. In fact, for the first time in days, I don't have a clue what she's thinking. The only thing I'm sure of is that I have to make the first move.

And that's exactly what I'm going to do.

Buffy's sitting at her desk, apparently attempting to study or something, but I know that's a front. Buffy and studying is like oil and water. They're two very unmixy things, and if she's pretending to study in front of me, then she's really avoiding me.

Nah-uh. I'm not taking that.

Moving slowly from my position on my bed, I take the few steps it takes to cross the room to her desk, gathering my courage and resolve for what I'm about to do. I want this, so much, but that doesn't mean I'm not on the verge of turning tail and running out the door.

I can see Buffy hesitate before she looks up at me. Most people would have missed the slight tensing of her shoulders when I put my hand on her arm, but not me. I may be a little obsessive, but I've known Buffy long enough to know the signs. Just before she looks at me, I know that she's afraid. Afraid of what she'll see in my face, in my eyes. In that instant I know that she's wondering if the enforced quiet that has given us all time to think without the distraction of discussion of our feelings will have changed my mind.

Wow that was a long sentence.

Anyway, she's dead wrong. It's the opposite, in fact. Without being able to speak, there's nothing I can do to stop thinking. I can't start a conversation with Buffy about what I feel and then get lost in a babble fest and make her totally confused about what I'm trying to say. All I can do at the moment is look at her and hope I can convey what I need to. All day I've been able to see what she's feeling without the benefit of words, and I think it goes the other way too. And the minute she looks up at me, words aren't necessary. She knows what I want, what I need, and there's no more hesitation, no more doubt.

She's frozen in her chair, and I take her hand and gently pull her to her feet. Without breaking eye contact, I raise my other hand to her face and softly caress her cheek. She gives me a small smile, and I move my head forward to take her lips with mine. I release her hand and she wraps her arms around me, deepening the kiss and giving me a feeling so intense that my knees start to buckle.

Oh… wow… she's amazing.

All we've done is kiss, but just knowing that this time we're not going to stop is enough to start sending hot flashes all over my body. Warmth suffuses me where our bodies are pressed together, but I want more. Clothing has it's place, but that place isn't anywhere close to here and now. I tug at the base of Buffy's shirt in a useless attempt to get it off her without us having to separate, but even through the haze that's settled over my mind I'm aware that that's not going to work. I weigh the choices, and decide that I can handle moving away for the few seconds it takes to get her shirt off.

Still, I guess the choice was easier made than done, considering the strength of the grip that's holding me. I move my hands down from Buffy's face and around to where her fingers are locked together behind my waist. Without being to forceful I attempt to unlock her fingers, and after about a minute or two she gets the picture and loosens her hold.

Moving back a little I give her a shy grin (okay, so I was aiming for a smile), and reach out and take the bottom of her shirt in my hands. With another smile and wishing that we didn't have to lose eye contact, I pull her shirt up and over her head. She raises her arms to assist me, and when I look at her, my jaw drops to the floor with her shirt.

God she's gorgeous.

Okay, so I knew that already, and all I've done is take off her shirt. And I've seen her in just her underwear before, but for some reason this is different. This time I'm allowed to look and enjoy, and damn if I don't do that. I don't think there's anyone else in the world as beautiful as Buffy is, and for some reason, she wants me. Willow Rosenburg, the 'shy little computer geek' as I was so aptly dubbed in high school. Buffy Summers wants me. Buffy loves me. If I was ever sure of anything, I'm sure of that. I don't know why it is, I just know that it's real. Without the protective walls she usually has up, her eyes tell me more than words ever could.

She wants me.

She needs me.

She loves me.

And that's all I want, all I need. I'm going to show her how much she means to me, and I'm almost glad we can't speak. Words just get in the way. I take another step backward, and without breaking her gaze I slowly remove my clothing. There's a fire in her eyes that burns with love and desire as she watches me, and I have never felt anything so right in my entire life. The world falls away, and suddenly I'm lost in her. Drowning. I can't breathe, and I don't care. Air isn't important, I don't need the blood that's pumping through my veins.

There's only one thing I need.