"What do you mean, we're not allowed to see her?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Summers," the nurse said, not seeming particularly sorry, "but Miss Chase specifically requested that you not be allowed to visit her. Nor Miss Rosenberg. And Mr. Harris should certainly know that he is unwelcome, by now." Willow and Xander, standing on opposite edges of the group, exchanged a guilt-drenched glance, and quickly stepped farther apart. Xander idly kicked at the base of the nurses' station, and Willow cast her eyes down at the floor and wished she could become interested in the carpet lint.

"B-but, but Buffy didn't do anything wrong," the redhead murmured, her broken voice barely audible. "W-why her?"

Buffy turned to look at her best friend and moved to Willow's side. She knew that Willow had been feeling increasingly guilty over Cordelia's accident, and Buffy was starting to worry.

"It's just Cordy being Cordy, Will," the slayer said, trying for a light tone that she really didn't feel. She stood behind the now noticeably shaky hacker, gently caressing her shoulder with her left hand and tousling Willow's hair with her right. "No big. You know her; once a May Queen, always a drama queen."

Willow looked up at the faces of her friends standing around the hospital lounge. She knew what Buffy was saying wasn't true. Cordelia was sort of a friend now, after all their years of antagonism, and Willow knew the debutante well enough to know that Cordelia might be self-centered, but she didn't lie for effect or create scenes just to hurt people. If Cordy was lashing out, it was because she had been devastated emotionally, not to mention nearly killed. And that was all Willow's fault.

Sure, maybe you could say that it was also Xander's fault, that they had both been kissing, but Willow knew that she was more mature than him, and guys are always horny anyway. It had been her responsibility to stop it and she hadn't, with horrific consequences.

She was supposed to be so smart, and she had been a selfish baby. And now Xander was looking ashamed and Giles had had to rush back from his retreat and was looking helpless and Faith had come back from wherever she'd been and was looking awkward and pained and Buffy was all hover-y and nervous and it was because of her, and--and, oh, God, she was going to cry.

"She's doing it to make me pay," Willow said quietly, forcing herself not to cry after all. "Because I should pay. I should pay and pay and keep on paying, and then pay some more after that."

Xander started to say something and then stopped, realizing that he couldn't be the one to comfort Willow any more, and perhaps never again. A look of sorrow crossed his face at the thought, and unfortunately, Willow caught it.

Buffy tried to hug Willow from behind, but the traumatized girl squirmed out of the slayer's arms and skittered into the nearby corner. Buffy thought about following her, but realized that Willow wouldn't respond to pressure in such a public place. So she headed back towards the nurse, waving back Giles and Faith who were coming towards her.

Buffy stood in front of room 402 and stared dead ahead, seemingly trying to burn through the door and reduce Cordelia to molten slag.

"Anybody else?" she asked, in a tone that could freeze smoke.

"Well, it says 'no vampires', but that's just her little joke," the nurse said, turning to Giles. "You and the other young lady may go right in."

"Faith?" Giles gestured as he moved to the door.

"Forget it," the leather-clad slayer snapped. "If Queen C's too good for Buffy, then I'm not gonna bother."

Giles sighed and went in. Things were hard enough for Buffy and Faith without people impaling themselves and everybody staring daggers at each other. When he had gone on his retreat to Breaker's Woods the past Thursday, he had hoped that the group was getting over the emotional scars they had suffered the previous month, when Xander had discovered that Angel was alive and Buffy was still involved with him. (He had his own scars over that, Giles thought. Many, many, scars.) Instead, the Watcher had returned to find things worse than ever. And he hadn't even seen Oz, at all.

Buffy watched as Giles closed the door behind him. She heard Xander mutter "Sodas, anyone?", but nobody responded. After a moment, the teen stalked off in search of a machine, and a chance to be alone with his thoughts.

Faith tried to sound as casual as she could, asking, "We out of here, or what, B?" She'd never seen her fellow slayer so cold, so angry. She knew this was about Cordelia, and if Buffy was that upset with the cheerleader, then Faith wasn't feeling too kindly towards her either.

Faith wasn't feeling to good about herself, either. She'd barely spoken to Buffy in the past month, coming to train with Giles while the others were in class, but otherwise avoiding the group. And when the slayers patrolled together, the brunette had been sullenly silent. But if her pushing Buffy away had hurt B one-tenth as much as Cordelia was hurting Willow...well, then, Faith just felt like dirt all over.

Buffy didn't reply to Faith's question; all she could think about was that self-absorbed bitch in the private room. Yes, Willow had made a mistake. Yes, she'd been wrong to have feelings for Xander when they were both in relationships; yes, it had been wrong to kiss him and wronger still to keep it a secret, leading to the almost inevitable horrible painful betrayal of Cordelia catching them in the act. And of course it was grotesque that Cordelia, in her shock, had crashed through a faulty staircase and fallen on a steel spear and been severely injured. But that still didn't give her the right to do this to Willow.

Willow: sweet, pure, beautiful, innocent Willow, who would never forget the sight of Cordelia, so hideously injured. Willow, who had barely stopped crying from the moment Cordelia had injured herself on Friday night, and all through the following day. Willow, who had gathered herself for her weekly Sunday visit to Jenny Calendar's grave (Willow normally went with Giles, but this week, Buffy had acompanied her, although not to the actual graveside). Willow, who had seemed moderately upbeat as she and Buffy had walked past a funeral on their way back, resolutely determined to beg Oz for forgiveness, and buoyed by the thought that Cordelia was being allowed visitors (the cheerleader was probably going to have to spend another week in the hospital) and Xander had gone to see her.

Willow, kind, tender, gentle, loving Willow--who had been painfully crushed Sunday night, when she learned that Cordelia had thrown Xander out of the hospital, and blamed herself not only for Cordy's injuries and agony but for the devastating rejection Cordelia had dealt Xander in return. Willow, who had been so consumed with guilt that she had scared Buffy, barely registering the loss she felt when she learned on Monday that Oz had gotten in his van and driven off (thank God, it was still more than a week until the next full moon). Willow, who had skipped school today, Tuesday (the mind reeled at the thought!) to make a Herculean effort to pull herself together and be presentable when Giles brought them to the hospital, so that she could try to expiate her guilt and beg Cordelia's forgiveness and begin the harder (and, Buffy thought, infinitely more important) task of forgiving herself.

And what did Willow get for all her tears and troubles? The door literally slammed in her face by an egocentric trustfund brat: a girl who chose her credit cards by how well they coordinated with her clothes. a girl who had once delayed the start of a basketball playoff game by insisting that the cheerleaders' skirts be re-ironed because the pleats weren't sharp enough (Cordelia did seem to have a predilection for sharp objects, now).

And for what? A few stupid high school kisses (as if Cordelia would ever deign to marry Xander, anyhow) and an unfortunate accident that basically made "Miss Chase" look really stupid. I mean, Spike had clumped down that staircase a dozen times, Willow had gone down it, Xander had. Heck, Cordelia and Oz had come down it together, mere seconds before Cordelia had fallen through and been impaled. What had Cordy been doing to actually break the staircase- -jumping jacks?

Yes, Buffy thought, Cordelia had turned Willow, a true and wonderful soul who should never have to suffer a day in her life, into an emotional train wreck, and for what? Nothing. This was nothing! If you wanted to talk about hurting people in the name of love, Buffy thought, she was the one to talk to. She had killed people with her stupid, reckless, schoolgirl ideas about love, her childish desire for sex, her pathetic need to feel needed.

She saw them all, every day. Jenny Calendar, dead on a bed of rose petals. Her gypsy uncle, butchered, his blood used to scrawl a taunting message. Kendra, Theresa Klusmeyer, Doug Perren, dozens of people killed for food or for ritual or for sport. And one little salesgirl, whose beating heart Angelus had ripped out of her chest, as a Valentine's Day present for Drusilla. All of the lives she had snuffed out with one cheap, I'm-a-woman-now, birthday fuck. She saw the look on Giles's face after Angelus had tortured him for the sheer pleasure of it, and she saw the look on his face when he learned she had been hiding Angel after his return. And she saw the look on Angel's face when she killed him, and sentenced him to a hundred years of suffering the literal torments of Hell. And when he had survived all that, she had told him that she couldn't see him, because he loved her and she couldn't dare love him. And yet she did love him. And hated him for it. And herself for all of it.

And she saw the Sundays, all the Sundays. Each Sunday (rather than Saturday, in deference to Willow's Judaism), Giles would pick Willow up at 10 A.M., and they would go to the cemetery and put flowers on Jenny's grave. And Willow would pray.

Buffy, although raised by agnostic parents, had still occasionally gone to church. But now she had stopped, because she refused to believe in a God who would give her this power just so she could fail again and again. Yet since she had returned from her runaway summer, Buffy had wanted to join her friend and her Watcher on these visits. But although she had been at Jenny's funeral, Buffy didn't feel right about going along, as she couldn't help but remember how coldly she had treated the computer teacher in the last month of her life, blaming the techno-pagan for not telling her about Angel's curse, even though Ms. Calendar herself had not been fully informed. So Buffy would always be there, and yet not there, standing a hundred yards away, behind a tree, watching them, listening ("Yit-gadal, vai-yit-kadash, sh'mae rabah...") and never sure if they knew she was there. Until one day.

It was not long ago. Angel had been back, and everyone knew it now. Giles and Willow had gotten out of the Citroen, walked to the grave, bearing the flowers, and stopped short. There, on the grave (where Buffy should have seen it, damn it, she always got there first), was a single, small memorial candle, its long-burning flame still flickering, in its small glass bowl.

Willow had looked at Giles, but he had eyes only for the candle. He reached out and took Willow's flowers from her hands and told her, quietly, to go wait for him in the car. She thought about protesting, but didn't, and turned and walked away. Giles gently laid the flowers on Jenny's grave, picked up the candle in its bowl, blew out the flame--and then crushed the bowl with his bare hand.

Willow, nearly at the car, looked up at the sound of breaking glass, took a step forward and stopped. Buffy tried to scream, but no sound came. Giles kept crushing and crunching, for what must have been the longest ten seconds of his life, stopped, threw the mangled candle on the ground, shook a few loose pieces of glass out of his bloody right hand, took the scarf from around his neck with his left hand and wrapped it tightly around his right--and then Giles had turned around and looked straight at Buffy, murder in his eyes.

And then, and then (the bastard! damn him!), Giles had done the worst thing possible: he dropped his eyes (as if it were HIS fault!) and headed back to the car. He got in, honked the horn to prompt the stunned Willow to do the same, and drove off.

That Sunday night, Buffy went to Angel's mansion, knocked on the door, stepped inside when he opened it--and beat the vampire half unconscious. Angel had gotten in a few good shots once he realized that she wasn't going to stop or talk, but she was stronger and angrier and soon had him at her mercy. He looked up, expecting to see the stake, and Buffy turned, ran outside, fell to her knees and vomited, knowing that whatever insensitive jackass thing Angel might do, this was still all her fault.

Angel's curse was a part of him, and Angelus had always been there, waiting, and Buffy (who was supposed to stop these things) had set him free.

Angel had staggered to his feet and walked out onto the lawn, crouching over the retching slayer, reaching forward to comfort her, but she had sprung away from him and bolted into the night.

The next morning, Monday, Buffy had gone to school and walked straight into the library.

I have a report from last night, she said.

Giles did not look up.

I fought a vampire, she said, choking back a sob.

Giles looked at her, self-loathing horror all over his face.

I could have killed him, but I didn't, she said.

Giles rose from his seat.

He'll hurt more people, she said. I'm sorry.

"Buffy, no..." Giles said in an agonized whisper, reaching forward with his bandaged hand towards the girl who had already turned and begun walking out, headed for class. He stood staring after her for a long minute, then sat down, took a pen in his injured hand, and began writing in The Watcher's Diary. Then he threw the pen across the room, ripped out the page, and found himself gulping back tears.

Yeah, Buffy thought, Willow kissing Xander, that's some big fucking deal. No wonder you're so upset, Cordelia. Let me make it all better; I'll rip your fucking eyes out and then you won't have to see anything like that ever again, you goddamn cunt--!!

Buffy stepped toward the door, but checked herself. No. She would not do this. She would not hurt others because she was guilty. She would not make people who had suffered too much already watch her destroy more lives. Besides, Willow didn't need an avenger, Willow needed a healer. Willow didn't need Buffy's hate; she needed her love.

"B? Hey, B? B-- B-Buffy?" She became aware of Faith's plaintive voice, cracking with pain. I'm hurting her, too, Buffy thought. What else is new?

"I'm fine, Faith," Buffy said, turning to her right, taking the other slayer's cautiously outstretched left hand with her right and gently stroking the back of it. "I have to be."

"But, Buffy..." Faith persisted, but the blonde slayer had already spun toward her left, looking for Willow. Willow was leaning into the corner, her arms wrapped around her quivering chest, seemingly trying to fold herself into the walls. She was still blinking back the tears, in case Cordelia asked for her after all, but it was becoming more and more difficult for her to hold it together.

Buffy crossed the room with quick, purposeful strides, Faith moving tenatively behind her. "Come on, Will, we're going," Buffy said.

"But, but what if..." Willow said, eyelids fluttering over red-rimmed eyes, glancing at Cordelia's door, but being drawn back to Buffy's resolute face.

"We're going." Buffy gently clasped Willow's wrist and pulled her out of the corner. The redhead gave a little cry as she was jerked forward, but fell in alongside her best friend as she guided Willow towards the elevators.

"Faith," Buffy said, briefly looking over her shoulder. "I'm taking Willow home. You'll patrol alone tonight."

Orders, thought Faith. Not a question mark there. She really didn't like getting orders. She looked down at the back of her left hand, still feeling Buffy's gentle touch. Then she looked down the corridor, where Buffy was firmly guiding Willow into the elevator. No, she decided, she really didn't like that at all. She walked to the stairs and headed out.

Xander came back, with a Mountain Dew and a box of Raisinets, wondered where everybody was but didn't really care, and sat down. Five minutes later, Giles came out of Cordelia's room.

"Can I go see her?" Xander asked, quietly.

"I'm afraid not," Giles said. "I told her you were all waiting," (apparently a lie, the Watcher thought, scanning the near-empty lounge), "but she would really rather not. These things," Giles said grimly, flexing his hand, "do sometimes take time." He took a few steps and turned towards the boy. "Would you like to come?" he asked.

"Yeah," sighed Xander, getting to his feet. "I can leave a room for Cordelia." He walked behind Giles for a bit, then turned and looked back at Cordelia's closed door.

I owe her that much, he thought. And the rest was silence.

***************************************************

Joyce Summers dropped Buffy and Willow off at Willow's house. Buffy had told her mom in the car that she would be spending the night at Willow's and Joyce, noting the withdrawn, almost shattered, look on the face of her daughter's best friend, agreed immediately. Joyce thought about asking Willow to stay at her place, but then realized what Buffy already had, that Willow would feel better faster in the familiarity of her own room. So, after picking up some vegetarian sandwiches (the dinner table would not be an option for Willow tonight), Joyce drove the two friends over to the Rosenberg house.

They were almost to the stairs, when Buffy heard Sheila Rosenberg calling her name. Well, nearly.

"Bunny! Are you going to be staying with us tonight?"

"Yes, Mrs. Rosenberg."

"Fine. Willow, dinner's at seven."

"We're just going to eat upstairs," Buffy said, jumping in. She indicated the sandwiches in their bag. "Veggie subs; very healthy. Builds strong rabbits."

Sheila blinked. She never could get Muffy's sense of humor. Still, it was nice that her daughter had such a good friend; for years, all she'd had was that boy with the strange name. Sheila suddenly realized that Willow hadn't said a word.

"Honey, are you okay? Did you have a rough day at school?"

"An extra test, nothing much," Buffy lied, wanting to cut this short. "Come on, Will, let's go," she said, leading the redhead up the stairs.

"Give Joy my best," Sheila called after them. Buffy wondered, and not for the first time, if Willow was her friend's real name, or if Sheila had simply gotten it wrong when Willow was an infant, and never bothered to correct the mistake.

"Here you go, Will, take a seat," Buffy said, as Willow sat on her bed--and did nothing else. Her head was pointed down towards the floor, but to say she was looking at it (or anything else) would have been a lie.

Buffy paced, wanting to let Willow take her time, but not liking the silence. The fact that Willow's normal reaction to stress was to rush headlong into babble mode made the quiet seem twice as bad. When Willow had cried, Buffy had tried to soothe and reassure her, but that had just made Willow withdraw even further, and Buffy was starting to worry.

Finally, Buffy, never very patient, took the lead.

"Will, talk to me," she said, sitting on the bed.

"Nothing to talk about," came the still, small answer.

"Come on," said Buffy, "it'll make you feel better." She didn't like coaxing Willow like a small child, and was annoyed with herself for not being better able to draw the hacker out.

"I'm fine," said Willow, picking up her head.

Injured pride, thought Buffy. Well, I guess it's a start.

"Yeah, sure," Buffy said, trying some gentle chiding. "I've never seen such a dazzling smile."

"I'm not crying," Willow said, meeting her gaze with puffy, pain-filled eyes.

"Well, maybe you should let it all out."

"Why? You didn't want me to cry before, so I'm not crying. This is me, not crying. Not-Crying me."

Well, that's almost babble, Buffy thought. Keep it going.

"It'll all be okay." Buffy went for the platitude, figuring it would either soothe or piss off her friend, either of which would help.

"GOD, BUFFY, WOULD YOU JUST STOP WITH THE BULLSHIT, ALREADY??" Willow roared, springing off the bed and shocking the hell out of Buffy. Well, Buffy thought, I guess that's one vote for "piss her off".

"I mean, just stop lying!" Willow continued, gaining steam. "You don't have to go around and act like the perfect best friend, because you're not fooling anyone! It's NOT going to be okay! I KNOW it's not going to be okay! I'm a big girl, I can live with it!" She was gasping for air now, and tears were flowing down her cheeks, but they were still angry tears.

"I mean, I always knew I was going to blow it. I didn't have to be any big mystic slayer, and have these big prophetic dreams, to know I would find a way to screw it up!" Willow's use of profanity had shocked Buffy less than she would have expected (she figured Willow had been storing it up), but the rage pouring out from the redhead stunned the slayer. "I'd lie in that bed and I'd think and I'd realize that I finally had friends and I had you and I still had Xander and I had a boyfriend, in a band no less, and everybody was happy, and I'd wonder how long until I ruin this, too, and now it's all gone, so I guess I was right, huh?"

"How would you--" Buffy started, confused at where this was coming from.

"Because I always do! Because I find ways to drive people away! I'm just bad! That's why I never had any friends--I mean there has to be a reason, it's not just the name, "Harmony" is a stupid name, too--there must just be something about me that's rotten, that makes people hate me, or else I wouldn't have been the single least popular kid in school--I mean, I was dragging Xander down--and there were two kids who turned into vampires and were still more popular than me--and I never had anyone except Xander, who'll never talk to me again, and one teacher, who I got killed--"

"Hey!" Now Buffy was on her feet. "That's MY guilt-trip!"

"Oh, would you get over yourself?" Now Buffy was shocked, and a little mad, as Willow continued. "Enough with the big honkin' superguilt; not everything is about Buffy, you know."

"Well, I'm sorry my causing the deaths of dozens of innocent people bores you, but I seem to remember having sex with Angel, and YOU WEREN'T THERE!"

"You didn't know!"

"That's no excuse--"

"That's the perfect excuse! You didn't know, he didn't know, nobody knew! I never saw Angel handing out any cards that said: 'Warning! I am under a gypsy curse and any fun will turn me into an evil killer, so no bouncy-bouncy, and I really mean it.'"

"But I--"

"But me, I knew he'd turned evil--him trying to kill me was kind of a clue--I had, what, a month, five weeks, to find a way to restart the curse and give Angel his soul back, and instead I'm all 'I've got a boyfriend! My boyfriend is in a band!' and I don't even think of helping my favorite teacher, and the next thing I know, it's all goodbye Ms. Calendar, is my killing you going to hurt my grade?"

"And the fact that you had like zero magic experience and were number three on the spell team--"

"I could have helped! I mean, that's what I do, right? Computers and magic? That's all I do, that's what I did--once I finally got off my big fat butt and did something. Actually, I didn't even have to get off my butt, I did it in a hospital bed, just out of a coma--God, it was so easy, I practically did it in my sleep! I mean, at first I wasn't so impressed 'cause I thought nothing happened, but then you came back and I found out it worked, so obviously I should have done something before, I do it one lousy minute earlier and you don't have to kill Angel, you don't have to leave, but I didn't, cause I'm bad, I'm bad and evil and rotten and lazy and stupid and selfish and bad, and I said "Well, forget fighting evil, I'll just be normal girl and live my life", and then I wrecked all that, too, and now everyone's ruined and Cordelia's almost dead and Xander can't look at me and Oz left and you're going to leave like you did before and it'll be my fault again and Giles'll blame me and I won't have anyone ever again and I'll die miserable and alone and I deserve it and I got a stupid 740 on my SAT verbal, which has nothing to do with anything, but it still sucks, and...okay, that's everything but it's enough."

With that, Willow ran down and stood, silently sobbing and not quite swaying, more like Willow was listing in a wind that wasn't there and looking like she was going to fall--and Buffy realized with a start that she was at least ten seconds late with the hug and quickly stepped over and grabbed Willow and held her tight.

Buffy couldn't believe the core of loneliness and pain Willow had tapped into. Sure, she had moments like that, but not Willow, please, not Willow--

"Willow," she cried, her own tears flowing, "you're not bad, you're not bad, you're the unbaddest person I've ever known. And your butt is very sexy." Whoa, Buffy, the blonde thought, let's not go THERE.

***************************************************

"Well, thanks for the compliment, but the rest isn't true. If I weren't bad why would all these things happen around me?"

"I don't know: hellmouth, maybe? Or just bad luck? But I can prove that you're not bad." Willow lifted her head, in spite of herself.

"Can we go to the bed?" Buffy asked. "I want to hold your hands here, but I can't with the holding you up."

"Oh-kay," Willow said, and they did an odd four-legged shuffle, still hugging, to the bed, and sat down. Buffy took Willow's hands in both of hers and looked her in the eyes, tears drying on their respective cheeks, pleased to see Willow looking back.

"Okay," Buffy said, "here's how we prove Willow isn't bad, and we're not even going to complain that this is a really silly topic and we're wasting time we could spend on 'I should have known about Angel', because this isn't about me."

"No, Buffy," Willow said, nobly. "We'll do you later. Just do me first."

Did she just say "do me?", Buffy thought. Mind out of gutter, Summers, mind out of gutter.

"Look, I could tell you that it's silly for you to blame yourself for not coming out of your coma sooner--a coma you were in because I let Angel trick me, by the way--or that if you'd been working with Ms. Calendar, you'd probably be dead, too, because Angel killed her practically the moment she found out how to restore the curse, so he must have had some Mystic-Detecto-Spell working or something, but I'm going to skip the details, because basically it's very simple," Buffy said. "I know you're not bad because so many people love you, and if you were bad, they wouldn't."

"Really?" Willow asked, a surprisingly hopeful gleam in her eye.

"Yes, really. People don't love unloveable people, because if you're unloveable, you couldn't be loved, which is really obvious but I'm starting slow. And speaking of the obvious, I love you. l love you so much, and I would never leave you."

"But you did," Willow said, quietly, not wanting to hurt Buffy, but having to say it. "And then you almost did it again," she added.

Buffy took a deep breath, knowing that this was a painful area for her, but wanting to stay strong for her best friend. "I know I did, Will, and I was so wrong. I have no excuse for the second time; I'd been away and I missed you all so much and then I came back and it seemed like everybody was happier when I was gone. And I told myself it would be better if I left again, but that was just me being hurt and selfish and a coward. But the first time, I swear, I only did that because I felt I'd hurt you. When I came back that last day and saw you in that wheelchair and knew it was my fault--yes it was--I wanted to die, but I moved to L.A. instead. And I'll never do it again, because I know now it was a mistake, it's just that I love you so much, and--Will, I'm gonna talk about me here, but it's still really about you, okay?--part of the reason I feel so guilty about all those dead people, is because I don't feel so guilty about them. I mean, they're all dead, and like 90% of the time when I feel bad about what Angel did it's because of what he did to you, trying to kill you at school and killing your fish and the coma and the wheelchair. So I left because I thought I was hurting you and I loved you too much to do that, and I hurt you again. And I nearly did it again, and I hurt you AGAIN. So I finally get it, I'm never leaving now, never ever, if you want me to go, tough luck."

"Oh, Buffy, I love you, too, don't go," Willow cried, falling back into the hug.

"I won't, I promise." I better break the hug, Buffy thought, before she gets the wrong idea from all those "I love you"s. With an effort, she pulled back.

"So that's one," Buffy said. "And Xander loves you, that's another easy one. He's loved you since you were three and if you think this is going to ruin it, well, to use your own words, get over yourself."

"But I hurt him so badly, and he doesn't want to talk to me now."

"Now, Will, key word now. And he's mostly worried that you're upset. You'll talk, you'll hug, you'll be what you always were and always will be.

"And," Buffy continued, "may I just say: Xander Harris, always knew, at least subconsciously, that you had a crush on him, doesn't start kissing you until you're both in relationships--ew. I mean, I love Xander, but, still, ew."

"I kissed him, too, Buffy," Willow said quietly.

"Yes, you did, and that was a mistake, but we're talking Xander, and his was bigger. Next, Giles loves you. Watchers don't have kids, and we're like the daughters he never had, and you're the daughter that actually listens. And, speaking as the bratty rebellious daughter, thanks.

"And Oz loves you. He went away, but he'll come back. And even if you don't get back together, he'll still care. I mean, look at Angel. It's over, but that doesn't mean I didn't love him. And I still care. And he did a lot worse things than you did, obviously."

Buffy could see Willow brighten, so she plowed ahead. "And your parents love you. They're nuts, but they still love you. And my mom loves you. She always wanted another daughter, and now she really wants a daughter who isn't the Slayer, which is my problem, but she still loves you."

"I've been stupid, haven't I?" Willow said, with a brave smile.

"That's all right, Will, I love you," Buffy said, simply, pecking Willow on the lips. "You see how that works?"

(The lips? I kissed her on the lips? Buffy hurried forward to get back on the subject) "Um, lots of people care about you--even Cordelia."

"Oh, come on, you're just padding now. Remember the hospital? Not letting me in? Making me cry?"

"Okay, she's a huge jerk and I'm still really mad at her. But," Buffy said, half logical confidence and half nervous need to keep the conversation on safe ground, "if she wanted to hurt you, she'd have called you in and given you both barrels. What, she's been replaced by Cordelia the Shy and Meek? I think she's hurt. She likes you, she doesn't want to lose you, and that's why she couldn't see you."

"But that means I hurt my friend, not just Oz. That's b-- uh, not good."

"Yes, but Cordy'll forgive you, like you forgave me. Maybe not as soon, because she's not as nice, but friends forgive friends. And remember when I was, uh, away? Didn't she go on all the slaying with you? Would she do that if she didn't like you guys?"

"That did seem a little strange. But I figured it was just because of Xander. Oh, and she was always complaining about ruining her nails and that we should get better outfits."

"So Cordy was battling vampires because she couldn't resist the sexual charms of Xander Harris? Even Xander isn't gonna buy that. And the complaining just sounds like Cordy being happy. I just think she likes helping, and being with the group, and you're in the group, so she likes you."

"But I'm nothing like her other friends, like Harmony-- "

"Reason enough. I think she likes having a friend who isn't like that."

"So, I'm like the Anti-Harmony, huh?"

"Yup, that's you, a force for Good and World Peace and Quality Hair Care." Buffy realized as she said this that she was running her right hand through Willow's beautiful red hair and stopped. Well, not immediately or anything, because Willow didn't seem to mind.

They sat for a second, Willow closing her eyes and sighing gently as Buffy still softly stroked her hair and breathed in her scent. It was December, but Willow still smelled like springtime, like new flowers and fresh sunshine and daylight slowly stretching into the night. Buffy brought her hand through the hair to redhead's left cheek and quietly brushed it with two fingertips.

"So, are you feeling better now?" Buffy asked, almost whispering.

"Well, yeah, outside of being a big silly and yelling at you."

"I don't mind," Buffy said, fighting back a tear, feeling so connected to Willow that she pained to think that the hacker was worried about hurting her. She felt badly enough that the girl she loved so much had been carrying around all this guilt and pain, and Buffy had been so self-involved that she never noticed. Well, never again, Buffy thought, I'll be here for you, Will, I promise.

"Well, I do. And--oh!" Willow said, suddenly straightening up. "I'm going to have to resign as President of the We Hate Cordelia Club." A small pout crossed her face. "And after I did all that work drawing up the charter." Then her eyes got wide and a mischievous grin twisted her pretty mouth.

"Xander's going to have to walk around me in a circle three times, and pelt me with popcorn, and go 'boooooooooo!!" she said, with a tiny giggle, remembering the girlish joy of coming up with the List of Punishments.

Buffy sat there, transfixed by the beautiful spirit in front of her, and marvelling at this Willow-child whom she had never known. "So, why didn't you do it to him?" she asked, finding her voice. "When he was dating her?"

"Well, I put him on Probation." Willow replied. "Which turned into Extra Probation. Which became Ultra Probation, which became Super Heavy Duty Double Extra Probation." Willow ducked her head, slightly embarassed. "I'm kind of a softy," she said.

"Oh, Will!" Buffy laughed, flinging herself backwards on the bed, her blonde hair fanning her head like a halo. She wanted nothing more than to just stay in this room for the rest of her life. God, she thought, I can smell her on the sheets.

***************************************************

Why couldn't it be like this with Angel, Buffy wondered. Why had she and the vampire shared exciting and magical moments together, but never one so simply perfect as this one, a moment that she wanted to freeze-frame and then duplicate for the rest of her life? And it wasn't a shock or a surprise; she and Willow had had countless times like this. Why was life with her lover a mixture of ecstasy and agony, hope and despair, purpose and confusion, joy and pain? Why was it never like the easy bliss she could find any time with her friend? Why was being with Angel like a journey into a dark night, while being with Willow was like coming home? Shouldn't love be the thing she wanted to run to, instead of the destiny she couldn't escape?

"Okay," Willow said, moving to the chair at her desk, "now it's your turn to spill, Missy"

"Oh, please, Will, another time," Buffy begged. "I'm just so glad you're feeling better, I don't want to bring you down again with all my stupid problems."

Willow skipped Resolve Face and went straight into a scowl.

"Excuse me," she sniffed, "friend here! Your problems are not and could never be stupid to me. And if you think I would tell you that I love you and then not want to help you, well then, you need to think again."

"You're right," Buffy said, sitting up, ashamed. "I'm sorry; no more Baby Buffy."

"Oh, but," Buffy added, almost wanting to raise her hand (for a girl who had been petrified at the thought of taking over Ms. Calendar's class, Willow could be quite commanding), "before we start, could you please tell me that you don't really hate 'Willow'? Because I love 'Willow', I mean, not you Willow, although I love you too, Willow, but I also love the name Willow. It's not stupid, it's not hateable, it's lovable, and I love it--and you, both Willows."

"Well, I didn't like it when people were hating me--I even tried using 'Danielle' for a month in seventh grade--but I really do kind of like it now."

"You should," Buffy said, adoringly, "it's beautiful and unique--just like you."

"Yeah?" Willow asked, pouting. "Well, I gotta say: unique kind of sucks when you're alone."

Buffy got off of the bed and moved to Willow. "You won't be alone, Will, not ever again. I promise."

"Really?" Willow asked, eyes wide and moist, but not tearful.

"Really," Buffy answered, cupping her friend's head in her hands. "Really really." Buffy's head moved closer to Willow, not like she was going to kiss her or anything. (But then again, why not?)

"Uh-uhhh!" Willow declared, stopping Buffy with an outstretched palm, then rising and moving back to the bed, to gain distance. "I know what you're up to. None of that!"

"I--I wasn't--" Buffy spluttered, ashamed, and more ashamed that she would lie about it.

"Yes, you were, and you know it. You were trying to distract me by talking about me again, so you wouldn't have to talk about your feelings; but I told you, I'm not letting you off the hook, and I've got a very big hook. Talk, Buffy," Willow softened here, "please?"

"Oh, okay," Buffy agreed, her reluctance overcome by her relief. "I guess it might help,"

***************************************************

"Okay," Buffy said, "so, how do we begin?"

"Talk," Willow said. "That's all you have to do."

"Talk it is." Buffy nodded and began to pace. "I can talk; I do it every day. I talk to my mom, I talk to you, I talk to Giles--" The blonde slayer stopped, suddenly. "Or I could smash!" Buffy said, brightening. "Smashing is good; I know how to smash. Do you have something I could smash?" Buffy asked, her eyes darting around the room.

"Uh-huh," Willow answered as Buffy looked at her, her eyes almost begging for a way out. "I'm seeing a big ol' defense mechanism that I wish somebody would smash pretty soon."

"Busted, huh?" Buffy asked, sheepishly.

"And how," Willow confirmed. "You are simply going to have to talk." She put on Resolve Face, not to impress Buffy, but to reassure her, and pointed at it. "See?"

"All right, I yield. You've got me, I'm helpless before your power." Buffy stiffened despite her casual manner, realizing how what she had just said sounded. I don't want to think about that, she reasoned, and I definitely can't talk about it with Willow. She tried to focus on what the redhead wanted her to do. "I want to talk, Will, I just can't. I mean I suppose I can, but I--I'm afraid to."

"Don't be afraid, Buffy," Willow said, her own voice aching, "you can tell me anything; I'll understand. I mean, I know I'm not a slayer, but I'll try, and nobody else is a slayer, either--"she caught herself and quickly corrected, "--except for Faith, of course...I sometimes kind of forget about Faith...di...did you, uh,--" Willow forced the words out, somehow, "did you want to talk to, uh, Faith?"

Oh, God, no, Buffy thought, even if I wanted to, I'd never hurt you like that. She quickly crossed to the bed, sat, and clasped the hacker's hands in her own.

"I don't need Faith, Will," she reassured, "I don't need her at all. I'm good with the slayer stuff, I know which end of the stake goes into the vampire--the pointy end, right?" Buffy tried to do a take for comic effect, but Willow didn't smile, so Buffy continued. "It's the other stuff, the Buffy stuff that's the problem. Because it's Buffy who has the emotions and I try not to give in to them, but I do, and every time I end up hurting people, and I can't do that any more." And she wound down, thoroughly morose.

Willow freed a hand from the slayer's slackened grasp and gently pushed a lock of blonde hair off of Buffy's forehead. "You won't hurt me, Buffy," she said, "I'll always love you, no matter what. You know that, right?"

Buffy nodded her head, her voice choking in her throat, knowing that Willow did love her, and certain that she could hurt the redhead horribly. But she wasn't going to do that, she wasn't going to lose control.

"Would it be easier if I started it?" Willow asked, gliding the backs of her fingers down past Buffy's temple, toward the jaw.

She can't be meaning what I'm thinking, can she, Buffy wondered. No, of course not, that's the sort of thing I have to stop thinking about, she just means the talking, that's all. Buffy nodded her head again, still mute.

"Okay," Willow said, taking her hand away. "Angel. From the top. Nice and easy."

"What's to say?" Buffy sighed, depressed by the subject and saddened that It made her depressed. "Really hot guy. Comes out of nowhere and helps me. Sweet, too. I think I'm falling in love. So, naturally, he's a vampire."

Buffy raised her gaze from her lap and stared off, looking at nothing. Then she steadied herself and turned and looked at Willow. "Major freakage, followed eventually by over-getting. Stops and starts, lots of stops. He took me ice-skating." Her eyes glowed at the memory. "Where, naturally, we got attacked by some big fat-ass demon assassin." The glow stopped.

"At least you didn't get The Man of a Thousand Worms," Willow chimed in. "Like Xander and, uh, Cordelia did." She trailed off, remembering that Xander had told her that the attack had led to his and Cordy's first kiss, and remembering what had happened afterwards and her part in it. She stopped herself, though, she didn't have time for that--Buffy needed her.

"Yeah, the Order of Maracas, or whatever," Buffy said. Willow let the error go by. "And, after more wacky fun, it's my birthday, we think Angel might have to go to China or someplace, there's this stupid tingle-making Judge getting juiced up and ready to kill everybody--and I look in Angel's eyes and I know, that if I just hold on to him, it will all go away, everything will be perfect. So I do, and we make love, and it is perfect--literally. 'One moment of true happiness'. The best part of my life. And 37 people died." She paused. "Nice trade," she said, bitterly.

"Thirty-seven?" Willow said.

Buffy nodded. "Giles and I did a count when I came back; I had to know. That's our best guess. Kendra's included, even though Dru actually killed her, because it was all Angel's plan."

"Well, it was months, I mean it's not that bad, only a couple a week...no, sorry, I know that's too many," she said, squeezing Buffy's hand. "But you didn't know. You really didn't know."

"I should have," came the hollow reply.

"How?"

"Slayer. Job." Buffy said.

"But you almost never know in advance. You fight evil when it appears, not before it appears, because there's nothing appeared then. What could you have done?"

"Jenny" Buffy said quietly. "Our local curse monitor, I saw her every day. All I had to do was ask."

"She wouldn't have told you anyway. And even she didn't know what going to happen or what would trigger it; they just told her to keep him away from you. You know, not very organized, those gypsies. I suppose that's the moving around and all, they probably left the copy of 'Curses for Dummies' behind or something."

"But I could have made her talk--"

"Uh-huh,¬ said Willow, growing a little tired of this, "and why should you be thinking that of everybody in Sunnydale, Ms. Calendar is hiding a whole big curse secret, when you don't even know there's a secret being hidden?"

"Well," Buffy said, almost reluctant to accept this explanation, "I knew there was a curse, and curses are usually not good, so..."

"So you knew the curse: he's a vampire, but he's got a soul; he wants to drink people, but he can't. Why would you be thinking there's this other part, when that's enough part?"

"No reason," Buffy admitted, "but--"

"Nope, no more but," Willow insisted, putting on a mock serious manner, raising her head back and scrunching up her nose. "This court finds that you are being extremely silly, and sentences you to forfeit all your guilt."

Buffy thought that Willow really looked cute, but was too generally depressed to feel guilty over that right now.

Since Buffy was silent, Willow continued, in her normal voice. "So you didn't know what would happen. I mean, it's Angel's curse and he didn't know, so why sho--"

"That's just it, Will," Buffy said, quietly cutting her off. She gulped before saying the words she never really wanted to hear herself say. "I think Angel did know."

***************************************************

"Oh, well that'd be different. That'd be--oh." Willow stopped, the full implication of Buffy's words sinking in. "Oh, no. No, Buffy, Angel wouldn't be that cruel--I mean, evil Angel would, with the charcoal drawings and setting up Ms. Calendar for Giles to find and 'it sort of involves you finding the dead bodies of all your friends, ha, ha', and--ten words I never, EVER want to hear again--"She's so cute and helpless; It's kind of a turn-on"--but our Angel isn't like that, he's too nice--why would you think that?"

"Lots of reasons," Buffy said, sourly. "Lots of things that I should have seen, probably did see, but I didn't want to think about reasons not to be with Angel, so I ignored them, because after all, being the Slayer is so about my love life, right? I mean, when Darla tried to get him to drink my mom, he really almost did, and not some random homeless guy, my MOM, so he had to know his control was slipping. And then when Cordy dragged me to that frat party, that was when we had a big conversation on dating and he said maybe we shouldn't 'cause things could get out of control,--"

"But that was probably just about date stuff. You know, you being 16 and him being a lot older, not even counting the vampire years, which I guess is kind of creepy, but I never got a creep vibe off of Angel, not that I'm Vibe Girl or anything."

"I don't know, Will, he'd had the curse for a hundred years and we'd just barely gone out--wouldn't he be more worrying about his curse than whether I'm ready to, um...?"

"Well, 'um' is kind of important, it's not that weird for him to think of it. And Angel is a nice guy."

"Sure, nice. When he's not being evil and driving girls insane because he likes them. Which is another thing: I get him to tell me about Drusilla, he starts, I get it, I go 'you made her a vampire' and instead of going 'yes, I did', he goes and gives me every little detail that I really didn't need to hear, I mean like pretty much ever. Okay, we were having honesty issues, but that was like 'this is what I am, what I'll always be, get used to it.'

"I mean," Buffy continued, "it's like telling me about killing her family and driving her insane, it's like he was saying 'this "Angel" bit is just a joke, a dream the gypsies came up with. You want to date a vampire? That's what vampires do to women they love, that's who I really am.'"

"Well, yeah, but that could just be depression talking."

Buffy considered this. "No, I know I'm depressed but I still think I'm right."

Willow gave a little laugh. "What?" Buffy asked.

"I meant HIS depression, over what he'd done, he could have just been blue rather than warning you or whatever. I mean, Dru coming back, had to be stirring up the not-happy memories, and having to tell you makes it even worse. Plus you were getting so close again to Ford, a normal guy and Angel not, and he was going to tell you about Ford going evil and he figured you'd hate him, so he might as well tell you everything and make you really hate him."

"Oh. But when I kissed him and we were at the ice rink, and he had his vampire face on,--"

"You WHAT?? With the fangs and everything? Ew! Uh, um, I mean yes, go on."

"I didn't tell you that?"

"N-no, reasonably sure I would have remembered. Okay, keep going and don't mind me, I mean I'm going 'Ew!" a lot in my head, but still listening--and not judging; these are totally-non-judgmental 'Ew!'s", Willow hastened to add.

"Non-judgmental?" Buffy asked with the ghost of a smile. Yup, Willow was cute when freaked, too.

"Totally," Willow insisted, feeling that fervent lying was called for even though they both knew that Buffy didn't believe a word of it. She reassuringly patted the slayer's jean-clad thigh. "Really, it's just 'Ew!' practice, that's all."

Buffy was surprised that with everything else she could still giggle. "So, ANYway," she continued, "he was all shocked that I kissed him and, uh, skipped my 'Ew!' practice, but it really didn't matter to me because I loved him, vampire or not, but now I think I made him stop worrying about changing and stuff, so major wrong signal to send. Like, he was always using the 'vampire' thing to hide from an 'us' thing, so I must have been trying to tell him that I even loved the vampire part, not just the 'nice Angel' part, and he figured I wanted it so he gave it to me."

"Well, I guess that is kind of logical" Willow began, and then picked up her pace when she saw Buffy's face fall, "but even though I'm usually 'yay, logic' and Miss Logic '98 and all, I still don't believe it. I mean, yes Angel was a really cruel vampire, where most of them are just animals, or they treat us like animals--"

"'Happy Meals with legs'" Buffy quoted Spike.

"Yeah, to them we're cows; kill us, drink us, keep going, But Angel liked to torture people for fun, like with Giles, he really enjoyed pulling the wings off of the, uh, cows, okay, horribly mixed metaphor, but the point is, even knowing that, I never saw a trace of that in good Angel, so--oh, wait, here's logic!--maybe that was part of the curse, too, they changed his whole personality, so he'd never have been so reckless and uncaring-like as to keep seeing you if he thought he'd turn evil. Sure he could have been depressed because he thought that evil Angel was still inside him, was like the 'true' him and that's why you should stay away, but if he knew that, um, sex equals goodbye soul, he would have just run, because he loved you so much. "

"You, uh, you really don't think he knew, despite everything?" Buffy asked, not daring to believe.

"No, I don't," Willow said "and you shouldn't either. I mean, you know Angel, you love Angel; you should know he wouldn't do this."

"You really liked him, didn't you?"

"Still do, sort of, although obviously mucho bad with the memories. But how could I not like the guy you love? Besides," Willow added with a small smile, "first boy I ever had in my room, you know."

"No, I didn't know," Buffy said, mildly shocked, "tell me!"

"Well, let me say, it was pretty sexy," Willow said, wearing a teasing smirk. "I looked stuff up for him on the 'Net."

"Hmm, you are kind of hot when you get going on that computer. There's just something about you and a keyboard..."

I shouldn't be saying this, Buffy thought. I mean, it is a joke, and she started it, but I can't let it go where it can't go.

"But, seriously, Will, what if I'm letting him get away with stuff because I love him?" Buffy asked. "Maybe my emotions aren't letting me think, uh, straight."

"Buffy, no." Willow said, sternly but lovingly. "You are a good person, a wonderful person; you have to trust yourself. I mean I trust you, I trust you with everything. You have to know that if you love someone, if you feel deep inside you that it's right, that it WILL be right. You have so much love to give."

"I-I hope you're right, Will," Buffy said, tears welling. "I mean I know you're right, 'cause it's you; but I feel like it's wrong, because I'm always wrong."

"Oh, no, you're not," Willow insisted. "I even think you're sort of right about Angel; I don't think he knew about the curse and what would happen, but he probably should have. 'Cause it was his curse, and he'd had a hundred years to find out that stuff, so like willful blindness I can believe, but that's his fault, not yours. None of this is your fault," the redhead stressed.

Buffy wasn't comforted. She got up and walked to the French windows and stared outside.

"No, Will, you're wrong," Buffy said, looking at the stars. "Even if, and big 'if', even if I shouldn't feel guilty about that part, I still made a huge mistake." She turned back to the room and looked at the young witch. "I didn't kill him."

Willow looked confused. "Yes, you did," she said, "even though he came back, you still killed him."

"Yes, I killed him then. But I could have, I should have killed him right at the beginning, before hardly anyone died. Right after I blew up the Judge, while you guys were picking up Judge parts, Angel and I fought--"

"And he got away." Willow finished.

"No," Buffy corrected, crossing to Willow's desk and looking down at the floor. "I let him get away."

Willow's eyes went wide and her mouth opened as Buffy raised her face and met the redhead's glance, ready to take her punishment. "I beat his ass," she continued, "and I pulled the stake out, and, --and I couldn't do it. He even taunted me, and I still let him go. But I did kick him in the balls, so the fact that he killed 35 more people after I failed to do my job, no problem, doesn't bother me." "Why?" Willow asked in a low, agonized tone.

"Because I was weak, weak and stupid. 'Give me time' I said, all tough girl, but I was so weak I couldn't do anything until he hurt everyone else, killed Jenny and Kendra, tortured Giles. I only could hurt Angel because he put you in a coma, which is sort of romantic,"

--damn it! Don't say THAT!--

"but you're not my boyfriend and I'm the Slayer, so it's less of an 'Aww' moment, more like a 'Buffy is the suckiest slayer ever' moment."

Willow hadn't had the strength to break in, but now that Buffy paused, she continued in the same low tone.

"I meant--why didn't you tell me?"

Buffy blinked, looking at Willow as if this was the stupidest question in the history of the planet.

"Because I didn't want you to hate me, and--"

Willow leapt off the bed as if electrocuted.

"No, no, NO, NO!" she screamed, stamping her foot furiously against the floor. "Don't you get it?? I don't hate you, I wouldn't hate you, I could NEVER hate you; I LOVE you! WHY CAN'T YOU EVER UNDERSTAND???"

Willow flung herself across the room at Buffy and only the slayer's super-strength saved them from falling down. Her arms flew around Buffy's neck and she crushed her head against the blonde's collarbone.

"PLEASE, Buffy," she sobbed, shaking, "please, you have to stop, I can't take it, you have to stop, you have to stop hating yourself, you have to stop hurting yourself, because you're hurting me, you're KILLING me!! Please, Buffy," she heaved, trailing off into a sob, "please..."

Buffy felt her knees grow weak and she clasped her friend, holding her in a silence broken only by Willow's ragged gasps and the dull roar of the Rosenbergs' TV from downstairs, which explained why Willow's parents hadn't come thundering in, wondering why Buffy was torturing their daughter, which she was, which she was, damn it, damn her, damn, damn--

***************************************************

"I'm so sorry I hurt you, Willow," Buffy said, feeling helpless and stupid. Her best friend was sobbing, shattered and broken against her body, and all she could offer were seven tiny, useless, and insignificant words. It was bad enough when all my problems were driving me crazy, she thought, now I'm such a basket case that poor Will suffers from just being near me. "Please don't cry," she continued, feeling trite and clueless, "I was just trying not to hurt you."

"But you do hurt me, Buffy," Willow whined, still shaky, "I see you in all this pain and you never let me in. You run away and you lie to me and, and...you treat me like I'm a little girl!" she sobbed, feeling childish and inadequate. Her own feelings aside, why should Buffy let her help, anyway?

What could she really know about Buffy, how could she understand a love like Buffy and Angel had shared or the passion that had driven them to make love, and the regret that followed them to this day, the pain of always longing for something that could never be? How could she hope that Buffy would understand what she felt, when Buffy must be feeling things that she couldn't even dream of?

"You-you're not a little girl, Will!" Buffy declared, hugging her closest companion even tighter. "You're brave and you're strong and I love you so much!"

But I can't show you, she thought, because I know you like guys, you always have. I must really want to hurt myself, because I always do the worst thing possible: I'm a vampire slayer and yet I fall in love with a vampire, I cost him his soul, and now I'm getting all excited about my best friend, which I know she wouldn't like (she's always been in love with Xander, and now Oz), so I somehow must be wanting to drive her away. But I won't do that, I'll stop myself, I won't make you suffer just so I can feel bad about it. I'm going to do the right thing and stay in control.

"And you're always right, too," Buffy continued, "I do try and do things all by myself; I don't rely on my friends enough. You're a really great friend and I should know that I can tell you anything, because you're my friend," Buffy said, figuring she was safe as long as she kept saying "friend", "--so I'm going to try and be a better friend, the kind of friend you deserve, so from now on I'm going to tell you everything," (except how I feel about you, because I'm probably just feeling it so I can hurt you; a hell of a friend I am) "--and I'll try to be a true friend to you" (you know, the sort of friend who lies to you even while she's swearing she won't) "--even though I can never be as good a friend as you are to me; you're the best friend ever--"

Willow, understandably sick of the word "friend" after its seventh mention, squirmed out of Buffy's arms and hastily retreated to her bedside, still slightly quivering.

"Willow, what is it? Did I say something wrong?"

Can't she tell? No, obviously not, and there's no reason she should. "It, it's nothing, I, uh, just realized how silly I was being; I'll be fine."

Did she sense I was lying with the "friend" thing? Oh, God, what if I've hurt her again? "You sure?" Buffy asked, taking a couple of tentative steps forward.

"Please!" Willow cried as she sagged onto the bed. "I just need a second, Buffy," she said, one hand across her rapidly blinking eyes, the other arm outstretched with the palm extended in a 'stop' gesture, "I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'm fine--now." She lowered her arm and the hand from her face and looked at Buffy with steady, drying eyes, wearing what would have been Brave Face if she hadn't been desperately gnawing on the inside of her lower lip to try and stabilize herself.

"Yeah, Will, you look great," Buffy agreed, so angry at herself that she couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

Willow didn't need that condescending tone of Buffy's and counterattacked. "So you could have killed Angel at the mall, but you let him get away and he killed a lot of people, right?" she asked, concerned (but a part of her enjoyed rubbing it in).

"No way around it," Buffy said, almost relieved to have something different to think about. "Yes. I really am sorry I didn't tell you--"

Willow cut her off, feigning disinterest. "No, I just overreacted; don't worry about it." Buffy didn't know what to make of this, but Willow continued, trying to act coldly logical. "So, basically, you're saying--you made a mistake."

"Yep. Big one. Thirty-five dead people."

Willow was somewhat miffed that Buffy was missing her point, so she gave it further emphasis. "Because you, Buffy, made a mistake."

Boy, I must really have done something wrong, Buffy thought.

"I get it, Will, you don't have to go on all night."

No wonder Buffy loved Angel, Willow thought, they could both be pretty dense.

"I'm sorry," Willow said, falling back on heavy sarcasm, "I'm just in such shock, because it's not like you ever made a mistake before."

"No, I've killed innocent people before and I probably will again," Buffy snapped. "Are you happy now?"

"Because you admitted you're not perfect? Yes, I am, Buffy, because you're never going to be perfect, and you're going to do a whole lot better job as soon as you realize that."

Buffy stopped, stung by this, and sat down quietly on the bed. "Have I been doing that, Will?" she asked. "Have I been making mistakes because I've been too hung up on the guilt?"

"Probably," Willow said. Buffy flinched, but Willow put her emotions aside, determined to make the slayer take her medicine. "You were feeling guilty about everything Angel did when he was bad; that's why you didn't tell us he was back. And that was a mistake."

"Yeah," Buffy said, ruefully. "Big time."

"And look at what happened," Willow went on, going back to the sarcasm because she didn't want Buffy to get sidetracked into an entirely different guilt trip. "Giles quit as your Watcher, went back to England and opened a leather goods shop. Xander told you he never wanted to see you again, broke into his uncle Rory's taxidermy store and spelled out 'I hate Buffy Summers' on the football field in moose heads. Faith came to the hospital because she and Cordelia are secretly lovers, not because she still wants to be your friend and was trying to be there for you, and your best friend is spending the night racing monster trucks, not telling you she loves you and she wishes you wouldn't get so upset."

"Oh." Buffy, finally getting it, couldn't hide a smile. "Did she win?"

"No, because she remembered that none of that actually happened and that your friends are going to love and support you, always, no matter what. You know," Willow went on, "I remember somebody in this room giving me a speech about how friends forgive friends and if people love you you're not bad, and I think she was right."

"Well, if you think so, then I guess she was." Buffy liked being able to smile again. "Faith and Cordy??" she asked, incredulous.

"I was sort of going for the silly," Willow explained. "Although, uh, you probably do know someone who is, or, uh, at least, uh, thinks about it, 'cause people are going to think, even about things they don't think they should think, and sometimes trying not think about something makes you keep thinking about it, a lot. Well, maybe, I don't really know, or anything."

Buffy, a little alarmed that Willow had come so close to guessing the secret she was trying so hard to keep, quickly returned the conversation to the previous subject.

"So I'm not going to lose my friends? Good to know, but shouldn't I still be worried about screwing up? Because the people that die, they're still dead, unless my mom buys another zombie mask or something."

"Buffy," Willow said, disapprovingly, "of course you should try to do things right. But you learn from your mistakes, too, and that makes you stronger and better. You are so so much better at the slaying now than when I met you."

"Huh!" Buffy said. "I'm just glad you didn't see me in LA; I really didn't know which end of the stake went in the vamp."

"And the whole Angel thing, skipping all the guilt, you really did well. I mean, the Master killed you, but Angel, you killed him, even with him getting his soul back. Much better with the world-saving. A-plus save-age."

"I still should have killed him before," Buffy insisted. "Don't want to drown in the guilt-pool again, but I should have."

"Buffy, trust yourself," Willow said, feeling stronger because Buffy was. "You told Angel, 'give me time'--and that's what you needed. Okay, you didn't instantly kill the guy you loved, no big shock. Like, if I'd been the Slayer I'd have had to hope Angel could be beaten by me hiding in a corner and crying, 'cause that's all I could have done, then. Yeah, you were hurt--but you were brave and strong and, yes, you needed time, but, come on, look what you did with it. You went from 'I can't kill Angelus' to 'I can kill Angel', and you saved the world again, and it may not be a big deal to you, but there are a lot of not-dead people on this bed who are pretty impressed by it, let me tell you." Willow paused for a second. "Okay, it's only me who's actually on the bed..."

"Good enough," Buffy said, taking the redhead's hand and smiling.

She really did feel much better; it was the first time in ages she had been able to think about the past without being crushed by the guilt. Willow, wonderful, beautiful Willow--stop that!--had done that for her.

"FYI," the relieved girl continued, "your slayage would kick some serious butt."

"Oh, sure, the big evil things would be helpless before my free-form babble."

"Hey, whatever works," Buffy offered. "Learning curve, right?"

"Yup. I mean, I hope this never happens, but if Angel was evil again, I don't think there'd be any problem."

"Uh-huh," Buffy affirmed, confident and a little scared by the knowledge. "I'd dust him before he could say 'boo!'"

"Well," Willow pointed out, "I actually meant I could just curse him again, but it's good to see you're all strong."

"Oh, right," the shamefaced slayer acknowledged. "You're all prepared now, huh?"

Willow nodded. "Got an Orb of Thesulah in my desk, and one in my locker at school. In fact, you want to go look Angel up right now, you could probably, uh, 'take one vampire and call me in the morning.' "

"Whoa!" Buffy exclaimed, dropping the hacker's hand. "Dirty-Talking Willow, definitely not ready for that one."

"Well, uh, I like to keep my raunchy self a secret, 'cause she doesn't, uh, actually exist or anything."

"I don't know, that was pretty convincing, you love machine, you." Be careful, Buffy reminded herself. She paused before asking:

"Will, you couldn't really be sure you could curse Angel again, could you?"

The wicca hung her head, ashamed. "No, I shouldn't have joked about that. I keep saying how easy doing the curse was, and I did get it on the first try, but part of the time I was having my head spin and talking in Rumanian, so it probably wasn't all me, 'cause I usually don't do that. I mean, I felt this power go through me; I don't really know that I can make it do what I want."

Buffy nodded, sadly. "And Angel was a big, famous vampire for so long, they probably tried cursing him for a while and it took a lot of work to get the curse just right, so if you mess with it--"

"Yeah," Willow agreed, "probably new and even badder badness. That's, uh, why I haven't tried to give him a curse where he can't lose his soul or anything. I'm sorry."

Buffy saw the tears forming in her she-didn't-want-to-think-exactly-what's eyes and took Willow in her arms.

"Will, don't cry, it's not your fault. Even if you had some way to make Angel's soul permanent, I don't think we could ever go back to the way it was; that's gone, and I just have to get used to it."

"But, but I thought," Willow said, still misty, "I thought if you weren't all guilted and worry-y, you could be happy with Angel again. I, I want you to be happy, Buffy, I really do. I mean, you love him, right?"

"I do, Will," Buffy admitted, "I love him so much. I try to stop, but I can't; I killed him and that didn't make it stop. I wish I could forget him or even hate him, heck, I wish I wished he was dead--" The blonde girl stopped short, and pulled away a bit.

" 'I wish I wished he was dead'," Buffy quoted. "How messed up is that? But I do, I really want to just feel some clean, simple emotion about Angel, instead of it all being tangled up in memories and pain and things I said and everything. I want to think of Angel and not think of Jenny or what I could have done or whether we could make love again and not trigger the curse because he'd have to be nervous this time--right?-- and not 'truly happy'. Or not worry that I might accidentally trigger it with a hug at the right moment, not even sex. Or wonder if he actually went evil right when we started to make love--because I was pretty happy right then--and if I really was doing it with Angelus--" she saw the contortion on Willow's face and broke off.

"You see?" Buffy went on, "I've got tons of these, a lot of them worse than that. And it doesn't matter that you could argue me out of all of them, or that I don't feel so hugely guilty any more. Which I don't, Will, really, thank you. But it's all still there, a big messy ball of mess. And it'll always be there, it's never going to be like it was. What I want, it's gone. I, I'm never going to look at Angel and just see the boy I love." Buffy was crying now. "Never..."

Willow took Buffy in her arms and held her tight. She could feel the slayer's heartache and her own heart ached even more because this time she didn't know what she could do.

"Maybe," Willow ventured, "maybe with time..."

"No," Buffy said, "you don't understand; it keeps getting worse. We're so tense around each other now, like we're rubber bands pulled tight and the slightest thing makes us snap. Like the candle: stupid, yes, insensitive, but do I talk to Angel, even yell at him? No, I just go and beat my boyfriend bloody, and now I'll always remember THAT, and it's even worse--" Buffy realized Willow had pulled away from her and seemed far too confused.

"I don't--you HIT Angel?"

"Yes, because of the candle, I just--"

"Candle? The candle on Ms. Calendar's grave, do you mean?"

"Uh-huh, went completely mental and--"

"But what does that have to do with Angel?" the redhead asked, thoroughly flummoxed.

"Well, he put it there," Buffy said, not getting what Willow wasn't getting.

"No, he didn't," Willow said, wondering how Buffy had gotten so mixed up. "It was Ethan, wasn't it?"

"Ethan?" Buffy repeated, feeling the room spin. "Ethan Rayne?"

"Wasn't it? I mean, I always thought it was Ethan, because he hates Giles and wants to hurt him, because Giles turned his back on him and the black magic thing and went all Watcher-y-er-than-thou, even though Giles was the ringleader and started that whole Eyghon thing."

"Ethan Rayne," Buffy said, numb. "Not Angel."

"Right, and Eyghon was killing all of their old group and coming for Ethan and it ended up in Ms. Calendar's body, and Ethan probably felt that was like payback and Giles deserved it, but then she gets saved by Angel, and that probably made Ethan angry, so now that Angel killed Ms. Calendar, he's taunting--and taunting is so Ethan--he's taunting Giles about the irony since Ms. Calendar's 'knight in shining fangs' or whatever ended up being the one to kill her, after all that."

It was soul-shattering. Buffy had read that phrase once and thought it stupid, but now she knew exactly how it felt. She felt as though her body had just crumbled into a million pieces, and yet she couldn't move, couldn't cry, could barely speak.

"I didn't even ask him," she said, sounding like someone who's been shot and can't believe it. "I didn't say anything, I just hit him. He didn't know why--" she remembered vomiting that night and fought the urge to do it again "--he STILL doesn't know...and now I'm acting like 'we both made mistakes, let's forget it, don't mention it', and he doesn't know what it was about."

"B-Buffy?" Willow mouthed, horrified at the reaction she had caused.

"He was so quiet--when Spike was teasing us about still being in love. He must think I'm nuts: I love him, I say we're not just friends, and I attack him for no reason. Loony-Slayer, that's me."

"No, Buffy, don't. I must have made a mistake, it probably was Angel, you did the right thing."

"No, I blew it again. Why am I not surprised?"

"No, you were right, I'm sure," Willow insisted, trying to will herself to being sure. "But why, why would Angel taunt Giles?"

"It wasn't taunting, it was--I mean I thought it was--an apology, stupid because nothing's going to make up for it and he shouldn't hurt Giles by trying, but that's what I thought it was."

"Oh, I never thought of that, I just went right to Ethan," Willow said. "But yours sounds good, because, because--I know!--the candle is like way too subtle for Ethan, he'd have left a big black wreath saying 'R.I.P., Ripper", or something--ooh!--he'd have left a box of band candy, to connect it to something he did, not Angel, and the note would've said "Moved on already?"

"No," Buffy admitted, not sure she wanted to hope, "Ethan Rayne not subtle."

"Right, plus he'd probably have, like, been there to gloat. He's Gloater Guy, a real gloat-a-holic, that's him. Oh, and why would Ethan wait nine months to do it? But Angel was in hell all summer and then he had to get his strength back, right?"

"Yes," Buffy said, realizing that Giles certainly must have blamed Angel, or he wouldn't have blamed HER.

"Buffy, what is it?" Willow asked, upset because she saw that the slayer was crying again. "Isn't this good news?"

"Uh-huh," Buffy said, a slight hysteria creeping into her tone, "good news, that's what it is! I'm happy I was right, I'm happy Angel hurt Giles, happy I had a reason to hit..." She trailed off choking, then came back with a spurt. "Big, huge, sicko happys for Buffy! Why, Will? Why am I so messed up? Why can't I just love Angel the way I love you?"

Willow blinked several times.

I said it, Buffy thought, panicking. Why did I do that? What happened to staying in control?

Willow blinked once more and then replied with calm certainty.

"That's not the same thing, Buffy. What we have is 'best friend love' with talking and support and telling each other all the scary things we think about, but what Angel and you have is 'boyfriend love', with the kissing and sex and desire and you can't live without him and you think about him all the time and if you could only pick one person to be on the planet with you it'd be him, forever. You don't love me that way."

Control.

"No,--"

Buffy had never had it. Not about the important things.

"--you don't understand."

Even though she knew she shouldn't, she couldn't control her feelings, the feelings she had so long denied were going to come out. So she looked into those beautiful, bewitching green eyes, and felt like she was falling into the abyss, and said the seven biggest words of her life.

"I do love you that way, Willow."

***************************************************

And then there was silence. No words, not the slightest sound.

The silence might have lasted as long as three seconds. To Buffy, it was an eternity. She sat facing Willow, her thin lips slightly pursed, as if the words she had just spoken ("I do love you that way, Willow") were fluttering in the air and she was trying to gently blow them across the space between the girls so that the redhead might receive, understand, and accept them. Or maybe so she could take a deep breath and suck the words right back down her throat, she wasn't sure.

Buffy's hands hovered above her jean-clad thighs, the tips of her slender fingers pressing into her quadriceps muscles like sprinters in the blocks, ready to shoot forward and embrace the only person in the world she couldn't live without. But the foot that was softly scratching against the floor seemed more ready to dig in and hastily propel the Slayer away from the mess she had almost certainly made of her life.

--no, I'm not going to run--

Piercing hazel eyes stared at Willow's face, as Buffy tried to hide her nervousness and figure out what was going to happen.

--she's so quiet--

The hazel eyes looked into Willow's wide green orbs, which seemed to be trying to solve a problem that wouldn't compute...

--quiet's better than screaming, I guess. Maybe she even, could she--no, don't be stupid--

Buffy's eyes traveled down, past the alabaster cheeks now flushed red, to the pixie nose whose nostrils were dilating, as if all that was needed was more oxygen, to the luscious red lips that trembled slightly below.

--please don't hate me, Will, I couldn't stand it if I lost you. Just tell me we can still be friends, and just forget these stupid feelings of mine--

Willow's round jaw moved forward, then back. She didn't seem to be stopping herself from saying something, more like she had started to talk and didn't have any words.

--no, that's selfish. You can hate me, Will, do whatever you have to do, I just don't want to hurt you. Just be all right, Will--God, I love you so much--STOP THAT NOW, you idiot!--

"But, but," Willow began, clearly confused.

--a joke! Tell her it was all a joke! Quickly, now--but what if she--

"But you love Angel," Willow said.

--oh--

"You've always loved Angel; I know you do," the redhead said, her hands nervously clasping each other in her lap. "You just said so! You weren't lying, were you?"

--no, but--

"Buffy, are you lying to me?" Willow finished quietly, no longer talking about Angel, although Buffy didn't get that.

Okay, Buffy thought, this can be fixed. I'll just be calm and let her know she doesn't have to worry, and then I'll get out of here, before I open my big mouth again. She felt her nose twitch and fought back an urge to sniffle.

"No, I wasn't lying, Will; I'll always care about Angel." Oddly, Willow seemed to sag a bit, and then Buffy, to her horror, lost all control again.

"--but I love you, I really do, and not 'best friend love', either, the other kind. I love touching you and holding you and just being near you and I really want to kiss you right now, but don't worry, I won't--" Willow's lips parted slightly and she looked like she was going to say something, so Buffy, panicking, sped up. "And I really can't live without you, I only go away because I don't want to hurt you--I mean I'll go away now if that's what you want me to do, I just want what's best for you--but I never want to be without you, that's why I keep coming back."

Willow had stiffened, almost in shock, but Buffy kept going. "And I'm always thinking about you," the blonde continued, telling secrets she hadn't realized were secrets, things she had simply thought of as part of her life until now, when she was just realizing what they meant. "I think about you every night and I wonder if you're okay and what I can do for you. And then I think how glad I am to know you and I go to sleep happy. And when I wake up in the morning, I think about when I'll get to see you and I can hardly wait. And sometimes when we're apart, I just imagine where you are and what you're doing--that kept me sane while I was in LA. But I don't do that when I'm patrolling because it almost got me killed a couple of times, so now I just tell myself to concentrate and finish up and then I can tell you all about it.

"And, absolutely, if I could keep just one person on the planet with me, I'd keep you and not Angel, and I think I knew this even before I killed him for hurting you. I'm drawn to Angel, but I-I'm...bound to you."

Buffy sat back slightly, feeling like she had just finished an exam. But Willow was still rigid with shock, so Buffy continued:

"So that's everything you said about 'boyfriend love' and I feel that way even though I'm not a boy and can't be your boyfriend. Oz is your boyfriend--and I know he'll come back, you shouldn't worry--Oz's a great guy and he's in a band, which seems important to you. And even when you had something that was just physical, you did it with Xander, who's also a boy, so you like boys, I get that, and I'm not, so I'll just go." Buffy rose, fully panicked, starting to cry, and headed for the door.

"I know you don't feel the same way I do, so I'm going, but not leaving, I promised I wouldn't leave, I'm just leaving the room, and, uh, your house, but I'll be at my house and you know where my house is, so I haven't really left. And I hope you can forgive me, I still want to be your friend, and normally I'd say 'shutting up now' but--look!--door, so never mind."

Buffy reached for the doorknob, couldn't grab it because her hand was shaking, forced herself to stiffen, which made her cry harder, grabbed the knob firmly, twisted it, pulled the door inwards, started to step into the hall, and--

"Buffy!" Willow cried, sitting firmly erect now, her arms at her sides as if magnetized to the bed. She spoke with a desperate rush.

"Buffypleasedon'tleavemeIdon'twantyoutogoIfeelthesamewayyoudoreallyIdopleasestay."

Buffy gave a small laugh and turned back to face her friend, smiling but with the tears still flowing.

"It's all right, Will; I understand," Buffy said. "I'll be okay; you don't have to LIE."

"Not Lying!" came the instantaneous, almost spasmodic reply. Buffy stopped crying, now a little surprised, but not daring to hope. Willow willed herself to concentrate, ducking her head, balling her fists, closing her eyes, scrunching her nose and furrowing her brow. Then she slowly raised her head, forced herself to speak slowly...softly...and evenly.

"I'm not lying, I do feel that way, and we need to talk. Could you shut the door and come here, please, Buffy, because I don't want to yell and I'd go to you, but I don't think my legs can move."

Buffy nodded, a quick little bob of her pert chin. She stepped back into the room and effortlessly closed the door, then crossed to the bed taking small cautious steps, almost as if she was afraid she was walking into a trap. But whereas on patrol her eyes would constantly be sweeping the area, here they were firmly fixed on the woman she loved. Her dream was coming true, her deepest unacknowledged dream, and now she didn't know what would happen, so she kept her eyes on Willow, rather foolishly worried that the redhead would vanish in a sudden blink of magic or something.

Willow watched every step of Buffy's progress to her bed, like she was watching a parachutist to make sure they were safely on the ground. Once Buffy was seated, Willow waited for a second, looked the blonde squarely in her awestruck eyes, and repeated, clearly and sincerely:

"I feel the same way, Buffy. I really do."

"Wow," Buffy said, a small smile growing on her lips and her eyelashes batting almost shyly. "I mean, Wow. You mean you, --YOU" --she really couldn't conceive of it-- "about me, with the, um, sexy thoughts, even?"

"Um, more than anyone, but I don't really have, like sex thoughts, because I haven't, um, had sex," Willow said, ducking her head and blushing.

"Well, not with someone else," Buffy said, embarassed herself, "but you've, uh, you know..." she concluded, using a vague hand gesture that looked more like a cop directing traffic than anything else. Willow blushed deeper than her hair color and practically buried the point of her chin in her breastbone. "Or...not?" Buffy said, shocked, briefly covering her mouth with her left hand because she was embarassed to have embarassed Willow. "Not even once...?"

"N-no," Willow said a very, very small voice. "Sometimes...in the shower...it feels good, but never the whole 'thing' thing--I mean, I'm pretty sure there's more 'thing'--because it didn't seem right, not exactly, and also since the drought we're supposed to conserve water..."

"Oh." Buffy said, her own mouth forming an "o". "So, um, if you don't think, um, sex-wise, how do you know--"

"--That I love you?" Willow finished, raising her head quickly, because she had the answer to this one and wanted to be sure Buffy finally understood. "I just feel it, in every part of me; it isn't even really a question. It's like what you said with wanting to be near someone and hurting when you're apart. I've felt that with Xander and with Oz, but most of all--way, way, most of all--with you.

"I mean," Willow went on, sliding closer to Buffy on the bed and leaning forward a bit, her lips now dancing with clarity and sureness as she said the words she'd waited so long to say, "you weren't much with the noticing, but even though I was all 'my boyfriend is in a band!' I mostly never went to see them practice; I wanted to be with you. And we always studied together, even though Oz is repeating senior year, so he's already had the classes, which'd be useful, but between 'useful' and 'Buffy', I always was picking 'Buffy'."

Buffy smiled widely, too happy to be ashamed. "I never got that; I was so 'it's great to be with Willow', I never got around to 'why is Willow with me?' "

Willow reached out and gently took Buffy's left hand in her right. "Because I love you," she said and the two girls smiled at each other, before Willow suddenly dropped Buffy's hand and leapt to her feet.

"Oh, yeah!!" the hacker gushed, jumping up and down repeatedly, literally for joy. "I'm saying it! I'm actually SAYING it!! And not to the mirror, either!" she noted, flailing her left arm in the direction of the object in question.

Buffy watched in glowing bliss as her girlfriend capered over to the mirror. Well, actually she watched those sassy hips of Willow's bounce from side to side.

The redheaded girl struck a pose, facing the mirror, her left hand on her hip, her right splayed just beneath her breasts, her back arched, her head thrown back. "I'm sorry to do this, Mirror" Willow said, addressing the object with a sultry stare, as she took the index finger of her right hand and slowly traced up her breastbone and then her throat, "but you're just going to have to find another mirror, or something; I don't need you any more. That's BUFFY!!" she yelped, breaking character and bursting into an enormous grin as she pointed out the enraptured slayer on the bed. "I lovelovelove Buffy!" Willow trilled as she raced back to the bed and dove onto it, intoxicated with the moment. Then she poked up her head and explained, "I've kind of been thinking about this for a while. Pretty big while, really."

"Hmm, getting that. And I love you, too, you goof," Buffy smirked. Then she felt another wave of shyness. "I just can't believe you love me."

Willow snorted slightly as she pulled herself up to sit Indian-style. "You know, you're really good with the compliment-fishing-for. Or you're just teasing me. Are you teasing me?"

"No tease, Will, I swear. I'm just really amazed; I never thought you could really love me."

Willow, equally stunned by Buffy's blind spot, looked her in the eyes and explained the basic truth of the redhead's universe.

"Buffy, you are everything I could ever want, and I'm not even talking about your being smart and beautiful, and, oh yeah, saving my life like two gazillion times. Like, Oz is sweet and he's got that strong silent thing and he's really cool and not just because he's in a band. And Xander is funny and really brave and he knows me so well that he always makes me feel safe and comfortable. But you, you're all of that. like, squared, or even cubed," Willow said, partially aware that math wasn't quite the language of love, but kind of stuck. "Except you don't play an instrument," she noted, wearing the world's most phoniest fake pout.

"Hmmm," Buffy purred, bringing her forehead close to the wiccan's, "I wonder if Xander's still got that famous flugelhorn..."

"Ugh!" Willow recoiled, vigorously shaking her head "no!" and waving her arms like a deranged umpire compulsively giving the "safe" sign over and over. "No way! I kind of wish the Hellmouth would open again--I mean, not in a 'Buffy's in horrible, evil, danger'-y way or anything--" she broke off, concerned, but Buffy, knowing what she meant, waved that away, so Willow continued, "--but just so I could throw that...thing into it! Demon Horn! Ugh!" she repeated, for emphasis.

"Oh, all right," Buffy said, her arm langourously describing an arc on the sheets, "I'll just have to make music some other way," she cooed, her hand now wandering slowly towards Willow's pant leg.

"Seriously, Buffy," the redhead said, her eyes somewhat transfixed by the approaching hand, "I always knew that I wanted to be with you, even before I could admit it was an 'I love Buffy' thing." She pried her eyes away from Buffy's hand and slowly looked up, past the slayer's pantherish body and into her eyes, and Buffy, noticing this, stopped moving her hand and stared passionately back into those enchanting green eyes, which seemed to burn with an inner fire.

"When I'd think about the future, I'd never think I was going to marry some boy or anything like that; all I thought about was you and me, sharing a room at college and then grad school and then straight on into little old ladyhood. That's all I want: you and me, together forever." And Buffy knew that it was true.

Buffy felt touched, and ecstatic, and maybe a little terrified. But she knew this was a moment for her to be the Big, Bad, Slayer and take charge, so she did.

"I can do that, Willow," Buffy said, leaning towards her beloved as the girls drew together for what they knew would be their first real kiss. "Forever...starts now."

***************************************************

And then there was a Kiss.

A soft, gentle kiss, almost like a handshake; Willow-lips meeting Buffy-lips and getting to know them, noses becoming used to sharing adjacent oxygen, bodies learning to feel each other's presence and heat. After a short time, Buffy broke the kiss, not wanting to rush the less-experienced girl.

She drew back and looked at Willow, her eyes still closed, an expression of perfect contentment on the redhead's face, and Buffy lost her heart all over again.

"How was that?" Buffy breathed, knowing the answer.

"Weird," Willow sighed.

"Weird?" Buffy asked, eyebrows arching up. She hadn't expected THAT answer.

Willow slitted her eyes with an effort, reluctantly returning from the heaven she'd been in.

"Not bad weird," she explained, "good weird, wonderful weird--the perfect weird. I just can't believe we're doing this, I'm kissing Buffy, I'm kissing you..."

"Weird, all right," Buffy, now understanding, agreed. "But since we're going to be in love forever, we'll have to get used to it."

"Wellll, if I HAVE to..." Willow teased sulkily.

"I guess we should practice," Buffy vamped, batting her lashes in her most come-hither way.

"Practice good," Willow agreed, going thither. "Practice very good."

Their lips met again, with greater passion, bonding firmly and hungrily. Buffy's hands gently oscillated up and down Willow's sides and the hacker trolled a palm across the slayer's back. Buffy moved away a quarter-inch, wanting a better angle from which to capture her partner's lower lip, but Willow took advantage of the break to pull back and look again into those probing hazel eyes.

"I should have known it was you from the beginning," Willow said. "Do you remember what I told you the first time, about me and boys and talking?"

"Boys? And you?" the slayer said, struggling for clarity. "Oh, you mean you said that when you were with a boy you liked you couldn't talk, you could only make some vowel sounds and then you had to go away."

"Right," Willow nodded. "But with you, even though I had the same sort of feelings, I didn't have to go away, And I could talk, babble even. And with the whole words, too. Including consonants, lots of consonants, whole dictionaries full of consonants, even the consonants in 'dictionaries', and--"

Buffy loved Willow-babble, but not right now. So she drew her right hand up and gently laid the index finger across Willow's deliciously soft lips, silencing her true love for the moment.

"Shh. Too many consonants," Buffy whispered. She closed her eyes to revel in Willow's proximity and the wonder of their love.

But her eyes flew open again, instantly, as fast as a window shade flying up, as Buffy suddenly realized that her angel-with-a-devil's-heart had captured that finger with those lips and was sucking it in a way that had set Buffy's every nerve ending on fire.

Buffy thrilled to the sensation and felt herself go moist between her legs.

Willow, WILLOW is making me moist, Buffy thought with what little consciousness remained in her brain--and, at THAT thought, Buffy went positively wet.

She withdrew her finger from lips that only grudgingly released it, and swiftly replaced it with her tongue.

Much happiness ensued.

***************************************************

Fifteen minutes after Willow and Buffy had started kissing, they were still kissing, because, well, why not? Buffy had thought about moving things further along, since introducing their tongues into the equation had basically turned her into a molten pile of lust, but she was determined not to press Willow, to let the hacker decide what was going to happen. Because, now more than ever, she knew that making Willow happy was and would always be the single most important thing in her life.

Besides, there was nothing wrong with the kissing. Willow was a fantastic kisser, touching her lips to Buffy's with a feather softness, yet drawing the Slayer to her with a hot, hungry, passion. It was like that "Star Trek" episode she had seen with Xander, the one with the sweet-smelling vampire cloud that sucked people's blood out while being as insubstantial as mist. Buffy twitched slightly, realizing she was going to have to come up with happier-sounding analogies.

She closed her eyes, because she wasn't using them anyway. She couldn't tell you the color of the walls in Willow's room or how bright the lights were or how many pillows Willow had on her bed; all she knew was that she loved Willow and Willow loved her and they were kissing and the universe finally made sense.

A brief flurry of non-sense flitted through Buffy's mind as Willow drew her lips away, but then the young blonde opened her eyes once more and saw the lovely loving green orbs of her life's companion, and was content again.

"Buffy," the other girl said, with the gentlest hint of reproach, "are we going to just kiss all night?"

"But I like the kissing," Buffy replied, too blissed to go into full pout mode. "Kissing good."

"Seriously good," the redhead concurred, nodding. "But I know there's more we can do, and I, I want to do more. I mean, if you want to, too--"

"I want, Will," the slayer answered, cutting the no-longer-quite-so-shy girl off. "I so want. I want to do everything and then start over and do it all again. And again. But only when you're ready."

"Oh, I'm ready," her girlfriend chuckled. "I'm really, really ready; I don't think I could be readier--if there's an 'er' than goes beyond 'ready', I'm definitely 'er'. In fact, " she added, still one to blush slightly and duck her head, "I'm pretty much all 'er', right now."

Buffy thought it was totally unfair that Willow could be so sexy and wonderful and still be so adorably cute, all at once. But given that she was head over, through, and wrapped around her heels in love with the other girl, she didn't really mind.

"Now it is, then," the "experienced" girl said, reaching forward to open the top of Willow's blouse. She hesitated, her long fingers dancing nervously around the closure. "Um, Will," she said, not sure if she should even mention it, "you understand I basically have no clue here, right?"

"Well, more than me," the young witch said, smiling kindly. "It can't be too hard; you just do stuff and keep doing the things I like. And," she added, the smile now taking on a delightfully wicked aspect, "since so far that's been everything, I think you'll manage."

"Some major manage coming up," Buffy vowed, her head confident and her heart racing. Deftly her fingers undid the button they had been hovering near, and her hazel eyes saw the lids on Willow's emerald ones flutter as the hacker expelled a small, panting breath. Buffy fought the urge to shred her love's clothes and dive right in. Slowly, she told herself, slowly. This is the first time I'm undressing Willow, she noted. Savor it.

***************************************************

A certain amount of time later, which involved more devouring and less savoring than Buffy had originally planned, Willow felt the urge to scream in ecstasy, tried to cram her right hand into her mouth to muffle it (her left was busy clamping Buffy's head firmly in place between her legs), and still managed a fairly good scream around the hand. Then her world dissolved into a swirling ball of colors and she ceased all higher brain function for a time.

"Wow," she eventually said, surprised mostly at the intensity of the experience but also at the fact that she could speak again. "That was good," she added, inadequately.

"Just good?" teased a hungry voice from somewhere down below.

"Um, good in the 'everything good in the universe all rolled up into one Buffy-shaped package' sense of the word," Willow clarified, struggling up to her elbows and looking at the naked blonde dream at the foot of her bed.

"Oh, that 'good'," the slayer noted for future reference, her lithe body a tingling mass of need. She slithered upwards, running a gentle hand around Willow's tiny waist.

"Uh-huh," the sweat-drenched redhead averred, continuing. "I knew it was a special thing, but I didn't know the 'thing' was THAT special," she purred, turning the curve of her hip into the palm of Buffy's gliding hand. She tried not to give in to the still-smoldering flame she felt corruscating through her body, because she knew it was Buffy's turn now.

"Hmm," a very proud Buffy murmured, thinking essentially the same thoughts, as she slowly drew the rock-hard points of her nipples across Willow's heaving chest. She gently slipped her hand to the small of her beloved's back and effortlessly flipped the two of them over so that the hacker was on top. "I guess you'll just have to show me."

"I can do that," Willow chirped, planting tiny kisses all over her Chosen One's face. "Now I know what all those poets are writing about," she sighed, pulling back to gaze down on the expectant slayer's visage. "What I can't get is why they're writing, not doing."

"Silly poets," Buffy agreed, as Willow moved her face back within kissing range. She dangled her tongue above Buffy's lips, gently swabbing back and forth. Almost instantly, Buffy latched onto the offered tongue like a fish to a hook, and Round 2 was underway.

***************************************************

Buffy woke up Wednesday morning from the greatest dream. She was being held in a warm, tender place--and all of it was Willow. Willow's warmth, her touch, her taste, her scent, her love--they surrounded her, encompassed her, caressed her, held her, became her. And then she opened her eyes--and, wonderfully, it was all true.

She lay in Willow's bed, the gentle early morning sunlight glinting through the french windows and bathing her in its warmth. The sheets, which she now noticed were a rose-accented floral pattern, still held their delightful Willow-scent, an aroma with which the slayer had become rather intimately acquainted. The top sheet that Buffy had draped over herself and Willow before going to sleep lay mostly in place, a testament to their placid and joyous rest, but the slight tendril of a blanket straggling off of the foot of the bed offered evidence of the furious nature of the two girls' earlier passion.

Buffy delicately flicked her tongue over her lips, tasting the residue of her girlfriend's intimate fluids that lingered there. She glanced around the room, taking in the bag with the uneaten veggie subs on the desk, next to the computer, the floor lamp they had forgotten to turn off, the desk chair Buffy had propped against the door, just in case the Rosenbergs had made the atypical decision to look in on their daughter.

Having completed her visual survey of the room, Buffy turned to the best, which she had saved for last, and gazed adoringly at the redheaded piece of heaven that still slumbered, curled into the crook of the slayer's right arm. Willow blew gentle, even, breaths across Buffy's upper chest; her fiery locks hung like fine silk draped over the blonde's shoulder; her right arm reached around her best friend's stomach and her delicate hand flattened itself against Buffy's rib cage, seeking maximum contact even while asleep. Buffy listened, enamored, to her love's soft, dreamy murmurings and then focused her extraordinary senses harder, hearing the gentle pit-pat of the heart that held her own.

Outside, two wrens warbled to each other in the cool December morning, a simple call-and-response pattern, three or four notes at a time. Buffy imagined the dialogue of the songbirds: "I love you", "No, I love you", back and forth, over and over. It was the sort of thing most people might call sentimental mush, and, once, Buffy would have agreed with them. But now she had been converted, not only to lesbianism (although she was definitely going to be gay as long as Willow was female), but to love, and the simple sentiments of the birds, their constant repetition, were to Buffy necessary parts of a bond that grew stronger each time it was affirmed. A bond that drew her in, deeper and deeper, into a greater whole, a sense of unity, of belonging, that banished all the painful, lonely nights from her life. If Lily (or was it Anne, now?) had somehow walked through that barricaded door right then, Buffy would have told her with all the certainty in the world that she hadn't seen her since Ford died, that she had never gone to LA, that the stricken and isolated waitress with the crappy apartment had never existed, that summer had never been, that May had melted right into September and she and Willow had never been apart.

Buffy held her breath, and let it out when Willow breathed. She matched her other half's rhythm, in and out and in and out, and wondered if she could get their hearts in synch, as well. Although, she reflected, in truth, they already were.

***************************************************

Buffy let her mind drift back across the past two years, remembering all that had happened, the exciting times with Angel, and the awful ones, the arguments with her friends, the moments of doubt and panic, the days of quiet joy and calm. All of it, the good and the bad, had led to this and she couldn't regret a single minute of it.

She remembered seeing Willow for the first time, a timid girl explaining to Cordelia where she got her dress. She remembered their first conversation, that day at lunch, how Willow had glowed talking about the collections of the new, British, librarian, and how she had shut herself down with a sudden "and am I the single dullest person in the world?" Buffy would have gone for "most adorable"; her thoughts probably hadn't been romantic then, and certainly not consciously, but the not-yet-witch had already put the slayer under her spell.

She remembered their second talk, that evening at the Bronze, Willow's blossoming at her presence, the redhead's still-vibrant hurt as she recounted how Xander had stolen her Barbieú eleven years before, her yearning as she spoke of how helpless she was at talking to boys she liked. And she remembered how she had spotted Giles and told Willow she'd be right back, and how the other girl had easily replied, "oh, that's okay, you don't have to come back." An answer that had been shy and self-effacing and full of loneliness and low self-esteem, but had also been redolent of a shining generosity of spirit; a spirit so pure and wonderful that it never even thought of fettering Buffy, of burdening her with the hacker's own needs and desires for companionship; a heart that gave endlessly and never thought to ask in return; a soul that Buffy could only hope her own was worthy of mating with. And a brain, that for all its acumen, was completely wrong: for Buffy had had to come back, had always had to come back. And maybe now, Buffy thought, I'll finally learn not to go.

Willow's eyes skittered under her shuttered lids, as she moved deeper into R.E.M.-sleep. Her unintelligible mutterings became coherent snippets of words and sentences, mostly basic stuff like "oh" and "yes" and "please". And then came a word, loud enough to be heard even without slayer-hearing, a word full of ardor and ecstasy and total love.

"Buffy..." the sleeping Willow called out, and Buffy felt her heart skip a beat, as if maintaining a pulse would distract from the rapture of basking in Willow's love. But soon Buffy resumed breathing and other normal functions and a smile spread across her face. She turned onto her side, her back curving since her shoulder was still pinned by Willow, and moved in on the unconscious Wiccan, gently planting a fluttering kiss on those ruby red lips.

Willow stirred. "...sleepy..." she moaned, her eyes still shut. "Pleasant dreams, then," Buffy allowed, drawing close again and kissing the somnolent girl slightly harder.

Willow rocked her head slightly and Buffy freed her shoulder, using her upper arm as the redhead's pillow and sliding down so they were eye to eye. The hacker struggled to consciousness, weakly cooing, "...morrre..."

"Much more," Buffy said, trilling the fingers of her left hand up Willow's oh-so-smooth thigh as she kissed her girl a third time, her lips slightly parted, and sliding her tongue swiftly from left to right, separating her partner's lips as if opening a Ziplocú bag. Step one accomplished, the tongue gently tapped at the pixie's teeth, until passion made Willow move her jaw slightly and Buffy's tongue raced inside to rejoin its opposite number. Willow panted, helpless, before this unsparing attack, but then settled backwards, not able to endure this much so quickly.

"Actually," the redhead said, her eyes finally open, "I was trying to say 'morning', there. But that was nice."

"My bad," the slayer noted, completely unregretful, and happily ignoring the quiet reply of "nuh-uhh". "Good morning, Beautiful," Buffy continued.

"Buffy," Willow said mockingly, "it's not nice to talk to yourself."

"Oh, please," Buffy groaned, "let's not do a 'you're beautiful'-'no, you are' bit--that's just too vain."

"Hey!" Willow objected, rising up slightly. Buffy took the opportunity to extract her arm and run her fingers through Willow's hair. "The most wonderful girl ever loves me; I kinda think this is my moment for 'vain'."

"Yep, I love you," Buffy declared, running her hands over both of Willow's shoulders as the delicate girl lay back down and Buffy rose over her. "Swelled head and all," she intoned, now tracing the line of Willow's clavicle. "Not to mention other swelled parts," she continued, noting a pair of rapidly erecting nipples below that.

"I love you, too, Buffy," Willow answered. "And you've got some pretty swell parts, yourself," she smirked, as the blonde raked tender claws down to her lover's breasts.

"Nut," Buffy opined, as she blew the recumbent girl a kiss.

"Tease," Willow carped, as she opened her mouth as if to catch it.

"Ha!" Buffy demurred, now cupping the flushed hillocks beneath those nipples. "Hey, Will," she added, moving to straddle her sweetheart (but teasingly avoiding any contact of their lower halves), "do you remember when you told me what 'Rosenberg' means in German?"

"Huh?" the budding genius asked, less than cleverly (although, to be fair, she certainly wasn't expecting THAT question). "Um, yeah, I guess. 'Rosen' means 'roses' and 'berg' means 'mountain'. 'Rosy mount', if you're being poetic. Why?"

"Well, look what I have here," the quipster of the slaying community directed, now tracing the circumferences of Willow's breasts. "A pair of sexy bergs, getting Rosener by the second. And topped with little Rosenbergs of their very own," she added, bending down to nip at the engorged nipples. "Meine kleine Rosenbergen."

"OOOh!" Willow moaned, "I think you blew the plural."

"Well, what did you expect?" Buffy objected, interrupting a tongue-swirl to look up. "I took Spanish."

"Ay! Dios Mia!" the linguist insisted, returning Buffy's head to its task.

Buffy's tongue slipped off the nipple and wandered across the pebbly aureola that surrounded it, then ventured down to the tender skin on the undercurve of Willow's breasts. The other seventeen-year-old lay back and felt the sensual dance of Buffy's slender fingers as they meandered slowly across the hacker's taut stomach, looping and swirling in figures reminiscent of her ice-skating days, but drifting inexorably downward.

Willow remembered the feel of Buffy's hands from all the other times before. Times when the slayer would return from battle, hands dirtied and bruised and bloodied from combating the denizens of hell. Times when Willow would take her friend's hand in her own and lovingly wash away the detritus of slaying, pick out the splinters, cleanse the wounds and bind them, so that the hands would once again resemble a ballerina's and not a butcher's. At first, Buffy had resisted, pointing out that her slayer's metabolism made healing a foregone conclusion, anyway. But Willow had carried the day, noting that a regimen of hydrogen peroxide and bacitracin certainly couldn't hurt, and that Buffy needed her body's strength for things other than fighting infections. Eventually, it had become a ritual, sometimes leavened by conversation, other times done in spent silence, where Willow tended to and comforted the slayer, providing her with a touchstone to a reality she felt alienated from, empathetically taking Buffy's pain and returning love.

It had been on one of those nights when Willow, cleansing the last bit of grime from Buffy's ring finger and annointing a small cut on the inside of the second joint with just a drop of lotion, had suddenly realized how much she craved even this slight contact, that the friendship she had felt for the young blonde had grown into something greater, that she wanted to be no place else than by Buffy's side. Startled, she lost her grasp on the extended arm, letting it drop, and Buffy, who had been lost in thought, turned and looked at her, confusion in her eyes. She saw the red-haired girl draw slightly back and felt an inexplicable wave of sadness come over her. Willow looked up and saw Buffy looking like she had just lost her last friend in the world and immediately bent forward and returned to her task, taking Buffy's hand in hers again, content in her new reality. And now, reality had become her dream.

Willow drifted back to the present, realizing that there could be only one place Buffy's hands were heading, but she asked anyway. "Buffy? What are you doing?"

"Nothing much," her destiny lied, settling gently athwart Willow's thighs and lustily wetting the index finger of her left hand. "I just remembered you've got one little Rosenberg I haven't checked on yet, and I thought I'd just drop in." She gently laid the moistened finger on the redhead's soft furrow and the hands that Willow knew so well continued making all of her dreams come true.

***************************************************

Willow gave a climactic shudder and collapsed back against her pillows. Since she'd been muffling her cries with both hands this time, she landed somewhat awkwardly, but she hardly minded. Buffy crawled over her prone torso and lay beside her, ostentatiously examining an index finger that was still noticeably lubricated, albeit with a different substance than the saliva she had applied not long ago. She twirled the finger over her mouth, examining its new coating like a jeweler checking a stone for flaws. Once satisfied as to the deposit's perfection, she plunged the finger into her mouth as she would thrust a stake into a vamp, hard and deep and straight. and pulled it back out, licking it clean.

"Show-off," Willow claimed, still rather spent.

"Tasty," Buffy retorted, shrugging her shoulders. She pulled her leg back from the far side of the Wiccan's body and lay on Willow's left shoulder, reversing their position upon waking. "What about you, Will? Was it 'good'?" she asked, referring to the other girl's comment from the previous night.

"Super-'good', but," a frown creased Willow's forehead, "Buffy, are you sure this is right?"

Oh, God, no, Buffy thought, all her worries flooding back: this is just what I was afraid of--well, besides the chance Will would just totally freak when I told her how I felt--but I knew this was going to happen; she went along with me because she loves me, but not really this way, and now I've hurt her. I should never have--

Willow felt the slayer laying on and next to her go suddenly tense, and tried to clarify. "I mean, I really do love you, romantically, and I'm glad I told you and all this--", she really wished she wouldn't blush here, but she couldn't help it, "--I don't have anything to compare it to, but it feels really great, at least to me--"

"Me, too," Buffy interjected, turning her head and meeting those wonderfully familiar green eyes, and trying to be sure Willow understood her sincerity. "Really. I really like making love with you, Will."

"Me, too, too," Willow acknowledged, looking back at Buffy's hazel eyes and stealing a quiet second of honest love before getting back to her point. "But, as great as this is, I know sex changes things, and they say sometimes you can lose a friendship that way, and I don't ever want to not be friends with you. As much as I love us being in love, I couldn't stand it if it meant that one day you're going to look at me and see That-Was-A-Big-Mistake Girl, and not your friend. I, I don't think I could take that..." Willow was determined not to cry, but she couldn't help quivering a bit.

Buffy moved up a little bit and took her friend in her arms, holding her tight and not being able to completely ignore how sexy the naked hug was. But she forced herself to concentrate on the larger issue.

"Will, that will never happen. I mean, I like to think we're going to always be together, but even if I'm wrong, I promise I won't regret this. Not only am I really happy now, but you seem to be--"

"I am, I am," Willow reassured her, whispering gently in her ear. "I'm just worrying too much and I know I shouldn't--"

"No, it's a good question, I worried so much about telling you--well, I guess we both did--for the same reason. I don't want to stop being friends, either. So let's not."

Buffy clasped Willow by her shoulders, and shifted the redhead so she was sitting upright again. She moved back a little to create space between the two of them on the bed and adopted a similar posture, facing the other girl.

"Pinkie-swear?" Buffy asked, putting forward her right hand with the indicated digit extended. Willow mutely agreed, stretching forth her own hand and interlocking her pinkie with Buffy's.

"I, Buffy, swear that I will always be friends with Willow, who I love in every sense of the word, and that I'll always be open and honest and supporting, like a best friend should be, no matter what. Oh," she continued, remembering the specific matter at hand, "and I promise to never regret making love with you, because not only am I still all tingly--" she threw that in just to see Willow have a naked, full-body, blush "--but because it made you happy and making you happy is a good thing, so I won't regret it." Buffy smiled, and delighted in the smile that answered back.

"I, Willow, who by the way loves Buffy just as much and always will, promise all the same things, but doubled, and also not to worry about things that aren't going to happen. Friends forever, no regrets." Buffy kept smiling and broke the pinkie-lock.

"Except if we break up," the slayer noted. "I reserve the right to sit around and mope and go 'why couldn't I make it work with Willow, even though I love her so much? What's wrong with me?' And to eat lots of ice cream and get really fat."

"No way!" Willow declared. "Your best friend won't let you. Besides, it's not in the pact--you let the fingers go before then."

"Oh, darn," Buffy groaned, in mock-mortification. "Guess I'll just have to stay in love then, if I'm not allowed to mope."

"Works for me," Willow concurred, leaning in for a surprisingly chaste kiss.

"See?" Buffy said, breaking the kiss. "Doing it doesn't have to change anything."

"I guess not. Definitely don't want to change this."

"We won't have to," Buffy promised. "If anything, it's only going to make things more intense. When Angel and I--oh, maybe I shouldn't...?"

Willow fixed Buffy with a silent, scolding stare. "Right--best friends, friends talk, that's not going to change--basically the point of this whole conversation. Sorry."

Willow relaxed into a small smile and said, conversationally, "That's all right; I love you."

"Thanks. I love you, too," Buffy replied. "Anyway, the whole Angel thing was all about mystery and excitement, and after we did it I remember being all wondering about what now and trying to imagine what might happen--of course, I had no clue about the curse and dozens of dead people--"

"Buffy--" Willow cautioned.

"--but see how quickly and with a total absence of the Super-Giganto-Guilt I get back on topic," Buffy resumed, perhaps a shade too perkily, but Willow let it go.

"So," Buffy continued, "with Angel I was excited and intrigued, and afterwards I was more excited and more interested, but no connection like I'm feeling here, with you. You and me, we were really close already and now I just feel that much closer. It's like we've always been lovers, only we didn't make love until last night." Willow nodded, understanding, and not that surprised that Buffy's feelings mirrored her own.

"Stupid us," Willow began. "I guess we'll have to work real hard to--AAH!"

Buffy spun around before Willow had finished leaping off the bed, rising herself, eyes probing for what had frightened her mate so. The top sheet that had been draped over parts of their bodies billowed in the air like a sail as it fell to the ground, but Buffy could see nothing but a rosewood night table and, beyond that, the closet.

"Will, what is it?" she rasped, maintaining her defensive stance.

"The clock--!" Willow said in horror, pointing at what seemed a perfectly normal clock.

"What about it?" the even-more-confused slayer asked.

"The, the time! It's almost 7:30! We have to get ready for school!" Willow insisted, in the sort of tones Giles reserved for apocalyptic prophecies. Buffy relaxed, a little upset.

"Geez, Will, let's break a pencil and really panic. It doesn't matter if we're a little late." Willow, grabbing her bathrobe, looked at her like she was a Martian, but Buffy went on. "In fact," she said, feeling somewhat seductive, "I was thinking maybe we'd skip, do some of that catching up you were mentioning." She casually stretched her naked body to illustrate the suggestion.

"We can't skip; I skipped yesterday. I have to catch up. And I don't want to be stuck at school all day...we have to go see Cordelia."

"Again?" Buffy paled at the thought, walked away from Willow, and picked up the bedding from the floor. She wasn't going to say anything further, but she knew she had to; hadn't they just had a talk about communication?

"Will, I don't know if that's such a good idea. Cordelia wants to shut us out, and while I get she's just being emotional, she hurt you yesterday and I don't want to have you go through that again."

"Don't worry, Buffy," Willow said, almost nonchalantly, as she logged on to take a quick look at her email. Nothing really interesting, so she turned back to look at the still-naked slayer. "Yesterday was different; I thought I'd ruined everything for everyone, and it couldn't be fixed, ever. Now look," she said, gesturing to the two of them. "Fixed."

"And better than ever," Buffy declared.

"Uh-huh. And I was angry at Cordelia for getting hurt because it messed up any chance of me working through my guy problems, but now that I don't need a guy, I'm not angry, which is good, since the anger made me really guilty about being angry at someone I almost killed, 'cause, pretty selfish, that. So none of those problems any more, I'll be fine. Finer than fine."

"By the way," Willow interrupted herself, while switching off the computer. "You look great naked like that, but you might want to use my other robe. It's in the closet, on the left."

Buffy went to don the robe in question, which gave Willow the chance to get serious without being observed. "Besides," she said, talking about Cordelia again, "I don't feel right being so happy while she's so hurt. I did something really stupid, and yet, now I'm better than ever and Cordy nearly got killed. That's not right." She went and moved the chair blocking the door back to its proper position at her desk. "I just feel so sad for her. I did the bad thing and she's hurt and all alone in that awful hospital. And, worst," she added, crossing to Buffy and hugging the slayer from behind, "she doesn't have anybody to love, or to love her. She shouldn't have to suffer like that."

"She won't, Will," Buffy said, turning around in the redhead's embrace and placing her hands on Willow's hips. "Cordelia will find love; I know that now."

"You can't KNOW that," Willow objected, slipping her hands into the pockets of Buffy's robe and stroking the blonde's thighs through the flannel. "Maybe the universe is rotten and we just got lucky."

"No, I'm sure," Buffy insisted, leaning her forehead against Willow's and closing her eyes, reveling in their contact. "When I would get depressed, I used to think my life sucked because it was meant to; that I was the slayer and all I was good for was to kill things, and that's why I hurt Angel and you and I could never be happy."

"But," she continued, opening her eyes to look into Willow's, "I was wrong; I found you, and now I know what love is. And if I can, anyone can. Cordelia will have love," Buffy repeated. "There's love enough for everyone."

And she closed her eyes again, and leaned forward, into the kiss she knew would be there. And Willow's lips did meet Buffy's, because they were meant to.

They kissed for about a minute and then Willow pulled back and asked lovingly, "So, do you want the first shower?"

"No, you go first; I want to call Mom and tell her everything's okay, and ask her if I can have you at our place tonight."

"You can have me any place you want," Willow cooed, picking up on the double-entendre with an empowering sauciness.

"Really?" Buffy asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Does that shower fit two?"

"Buffy," Willow frowned. "We can't do that now. I mean, bathroom," she said, gesturing at the rest of the house beyond her bedroom door, "hallway, parents' room. My folks are dense, but they're not dead."

"Okay," Buffy conceded as she sat on Willow's bed. "You go first and I'll call my Mom."

"All right. I'll just be a minute because we have to get to school. And you can pick out something of mine to wear." She headed for the door, but stopped and turned around.

"Buffy?" Willow asked.

"Yes, Will?"

"The whole thing about you loving me aside," Willow said, unavoidably curious, "now that you've seen it and all, do I really have a sexy butt?"

Buffy smiled a very wide smile and said:

"Sexy-er, Will. A whole lot of 'er'."

"Cool," Willow beamed, turning and leaving the room, as she gave the butt in question an exaggerated swing. As Willow crossed the hall, Buffy's slayer hearing picked up the redhead chanting quietly, in a proud, sing-song voice:

"I've got a sexy butt; a sexy, sexy bu-utt."