A Week in the Life by Ondine

Disclaimer: Characters belong to BtVS: Joss : Fox : UPN : Mutant Enemy: everybody but me. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: What happened between Get it Done and Storyteller.

I tip toe down the stairs so that I don't wake up any of the girls sleeping in the living room. As I turn the corner towards the kitchen I can see somebody lurking there. Dang, you'd think by getting up at 6 am I could avoid everybody. Just my luck. An early riser, or maybe somebody still trying to adjust to a major time zone change...

"Yes it is." says Anya energetically as she turns to see who it is. "It is in fact, morning. The A.M. Pre-noon."

The last person I want to see right now. Okay, the second to last person, still..... I grab a clean mug, pour myself a cup of coffee and ignore her. Though I am thankful she made coffee.

"Fine" I say. I don't want to have this conversation with her. I don't want to have ANY conversation with her.

"Ah. Funny. I get it. Except we both know what I'm referring to and that it isn't funny." She waits for me to comment. Well, she can wait, I'm not playing this game.

"Oh, come on," she continues, "It's quite an experience, isn't it? Having the life-force sucked out of you? Hard to describe to someone who's never had the pleasure." She adds more milk to her coffee. "Oh, here." she says, offering me the carton.

"Okay, Anya. Could we cut to the chase, 'cause I'm really not in the mood for mind games."

"I'm just wondering if you know what you've gotten yourself into?" She smugly asks.

"I guess you're going to tell me?" I say with as much self control as I can muster. I put the mug in the sink and turn to look at her. And if looks could kill......

"Last night, all you got was a glimpse. A quick peek at the big picture. A snippet. A small taste. Just a smidgen of an inkling of what Willow's capable of."

"You think what happened last night was -- a big deal. It wasn't. That stunt Willow pulled? Creating the portal and borrowing a little extra energy to push it open? That was a parlor trick for her. She can pretend all she wants-- . You were right the other night. Willow's the most powerful one here. And when it comes time for her to cut loose and use the power, heaven help whoever's in her way."

"You think I'm in her way?" I ask, and it makes me so pissed I'm about ready to rip off a piece of Formica and bludgeon her to death with it.

"I think you're desire to be in close proximity to an incredibly powerful witch puts you *in the line of fire* so to speak."

"Well, your concern for me is touching, Anya. But I really don't give a rat's ass what you think."

"You don't have to get snippy with me." She says standing up. "I just think someone around here ought to be straight with you. No pun intended. I say this because you seem like, well, not a nice person, but I don't mind that. You seem earnest, and genuine and you speak your mind. I respect that. You ought to know, Kennedy, --well, 3 things actually. First, Willow is more than you bargained for, which isn't your fault, but don't let puppy love blind you to the reality of the situation. And second, this battle with the First, it's not going to be an adventure, it's going to be a slaughter. And third: a *potential* is to a slayer what a firecracker is to a nuclear bomb. You're way out of your league." She turns to leave. "Enjoy your run" she says nonchalantly.

I stand there and stare blankly at the space where Anya was. I'm numb. I feel worse now than when Willow zapped me. Then anger and fear and frustration all start rising up within me so fast that I feel like my heart is going to burst through my chest. Every muscle in my body has tensed up and my throat is constricting and my hands are sweating. I feel like I could scream and run and kick and cry for a solid week and it wouldn't come close to releasing the pain that's inside me now.

Air. I need air. I pull open the back door and let the screen door slam shut behind me. Air. It's cool and quiet out here. And she is full of shit. Run. Just run. Move. Get out of here. Run. Run fast. Faster. Don't think. Don't think about what she said, just concentrate on running. Just Go.

*You can run but you can't hide.* Bitch. Firecracker my ass. Puppy love? Puppy love! She thinks I've got some school girl crush on Willow that's going to magically disappear when I see what she's *really* like? Well Anya obviously doesn't have a clue as to how I feel about Willow, and she obviously doesn't know the first thing about me if she thinks I'm going to run and hide from whatever battle's coming and she can kiss my ass if she thinks I'm going to listen to anymore of her advice!

My feet pound the pavement with a force I didn't know I had in me. I am running harder and faster than I have ever run in my life. Like my life depended on it. And it feels good. It feels good to push it to the limit. To keep going til I can't anymore and I have to stop to catch my breath. Geez, I think I just ran a 4 minute mile. Ohmygod. Oxygen. Whew. I'm panting like a dog. Lord. Okay, hmmm, let's take a moment to look around. I have no idea where I am. Hunh. Oh, swing-set. Playground. I remember this. Good. I'm not lost. Just delirious.

I walk over and sit on one of the swings. I'm shaking. That's not good. As much as I try not to, I can't stop my brain from going back to the earlier conversation. Or should I say, confrontation . . . .

So Anya thinks I'm out of my league. And Willow's more than I bargained for. Well, isn't any girl worth going after? I kick the dirt. Damn. Okay, let's see, which do I want to obsess about more? A. That, according to Anya at least, a Potential is nothing more than demon fodder. B. That Willow is waaaaaaaaaay more powerful than she let on, or C. That Willow never came to bed last night?

Got to go with C. Nothing I can do about A. or B. Might not be able to do anything about C. either. No! I can't think that way. I kick the dirt. Hell, I can't think at all. I examine the dirt that I just kicked. My brain is fried. Between Willow's power surge, getting no sleep last night, and Anya's morning wake up call, I'm toast. It could be worse I tell myself. I could be dead. Oh, god, I have to stop thinking. It's not helping. I get up. I run. Just run.

Two hours later, completely exhausted, I return to Slayer Central. I can see through the screen door a horde of teenagers in the kitchen. I wonder if Willow's in there too? Probably not, she has early classes today. With any luck at all she's already left. Best not to take any chances though. I think I'll just wait in the backyard for awhile. Til everybody clears out. Take off my running shoes and try to knock some of the dirt off of them. I would kill for a glass of water. Oh, hey the hose will do.

I walk over to the spigot, turn it on and take a long drink. I splash some cold water on my face and down my back. Feels good. I hear the screen door open and slam shut. Dang. It's impossible to be alone for longer than 2 minutes around here.

"Where you been?" She asks sweetly, quietly. She looks good in that shirt. It's kinda tight. God, I have a one track mind.

"Oh, I didn't know you, um, did that. That you like to run. So, you're a runner?"

"Oh, no. NO." she says. "I don't run unless I'm being chased. And sometimes, not even then. There are times I opt to hide instead of run. Depends."

"It's good to have options," I say with a shrug, because I really don't know what to say.

"Running is good, though," she continues. "It's good for your heart and lungs. It's good for your legs. It's also very good for the ground. Makes it feel needed."

"Un-huh." I say. Geez, I can't think of how I could possibly respond to that. She makes me want to laugh but I don't feel like laughing -- I feel --

"You didn't come to bed last night" I blurt out. Well that was smooth. That was cool. I hardly sounded desperate and pathetic at all!

"Uh, no. I slept with Buffy." she tells me. "Well, not SLEPT with Buffy!!" she quickly explains. "I just slept in her *room*."

"Well, yeah, but, way way over on the other side of the bed. I hardly knew she was there!" she pauses. "I didn't think you w-w --...." she doesn't finish.

"Yeah?" she whispers. She has a look of wonder and awe on her face, like she can't quite believe I just said that or that I could mean it. But the look disappears quickly and she gets all serious and focused.

"Listen, Kennedy, I think--" she takes a deep breath. "I think maybe, well, I wanted to say, first, that, I'm really sorry that I hurt you. I know I already said that last night, but, well, I just want you to know. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, okay." I tell her. But I don't say *It's okay* --that might not be true. I mean, I still feel weird about it. But, I'm not really mad at her, exactly, so I guess it is okay. I don't know.

"I just want you to know.... I mean, -- if you want to, y'know, call it quits, I understand. You got more than you bargained for."

"You shouldn't have to deal with all this." she continues. "All my stuff. My baggage. It's not fair to you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask her. "Everybody comes with baggage. Everybody's got issues. I can deal."

"Well, I'm just saying, my baggage is bigger than most people's. That's all. It doesn't easily fit in the overhead compartment or safely under the seat."

Ohmygod, am I being dumped? She can't dump me! I'm the injured party here! I get to do the dumping and I don't want any dumping! F**K. I look at her and try to figure out what's going on, but I'm too angry and confused to say anything. I think I might cry, which I really don't want to do, so, so.... I'm just going to bite the insides of my cheeks until she says something else.....

"I think it's really sweet that you're like -- smitten with me. But, y'know, I think that you thought it was going to be cute to have a witch for a girlfriend, but it's not--

I can't hold it in, "WHAT?" I practically shout. "Whoa, wait a minute, back it up! Smitten? You think I'm SMITTEN? Is this what *smitten* looks like to you?"

"Well, uh, no... I don't know!" she stammers. "But I know I'm not what you thought I would be like. I'm not sweet, and harmless, and new-agey!"

"So your solution is: Let's call it quits? Let's pretend nothing ever happened? Is that what you want?" I'm bordering on flipping out.

"Best for who, Willow? Not for me. That scenario doesn't work for me at all." I sit on the steps and start putting my shoes back on.

"This isn't going to work if you're afraid of me. If you can't forgive me--" she tries to explain.

"You damn near killed me, Willow!" I'm doing the really loud whisper thing because I so badly want to scream at her, but I absolutely don't want everybody in the kitchen to hear all this. "You sucked the life right out of me without any warning and left me lying on the floor, helpless! Pardon me for being FrEaKeD OuT!"

"Well, what do you think we should do, then? What's your answer?" she asks me defensively.

There's so many Potentials now Buffy has to take us out patrolling in shifts. My turn doesn't come around again until tomorrow. I'm bummed. I could so get into killing something tonight.

Willow and I haven't spoken for 36 hours, 42 minutes and.......9 seconds. But who's counting?

I'm sitting on the front porch half heartedly eating Kentucky Fried Chicken. Ten buckets of chicken and all I could manage to snag was one wing and an extra crispy leg. Oh well, I'm not really hungry anyway. Not hungry enough to fight the horde in the dining room. Come dinner time, they're more frightening than vampires. It's nice to sit outside. The air is cool, the sky is pretty. The constant chatter isn't so annoying out here. So, I finally have a moment's peace, I wonder how long it will last?

We sit there not talking for awhile. I'm sure she'll be the first to cave. I actually start eating, just to have another reason not to talk.

"She went to the library. Homework, I guess." she explains. "You could probably find her there easily enough. She likes to go up to the third floor and sit in the Philosophy section because it's really quiet there. I guess philosophy students are more polite or something." She smiles at me. "Or, nobody studies philosophy anymore and so it's just empty!"

"Well, I noticed how mopey you've been, and also, Buffy told me Willow slept in her room again last night, and then, well, everybody heard you two yesterday morning, fighting in the backyard...."

"And, still, it's none of your business, okay?" I say as politely as I can given the pure rage that is building up inside of me.

"Actually," she says, still cheery and nice. "It is my business in that Willow is my friend and I don't like to see her feeling sad. It's your fault she's feeling sad so you should be the one to go find her and cheer her up!"

"You bailed on her yesterday morning. Hey, if you need to have a fight, have a fight. But don't run off and be all avoidy. That's not going to fix anything. If I'm not mistaken," she says as she stands up, "Willow TRIED to apologize to you MORE than once! You either forgive her or you don't."

"I guess," she says, taking my plate from me, "but what if it were?" She leaves me sitting there to consider that possibility.

Just forgive her and get over it, huh? Oh man, I don't know. I'm not particularly good at forgiveness. I'm more like a Master Grudge-Holder. Not one of my more endearing qualities, I know. I let my head fall into my hands. I am so at a loss for what to do. Forgive her? Forgive and forget? Cause, you know what they say, -- the quality of mercy is not -- Whoa, where did that come from? All of a sudden, I am flashing back to Mrs. Littleton's sophomore English class:

//The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes://

//'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The thronged monarch better than his crown;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;//

I stand up, remembering how I so pathetically stumbled through this monologue in front of the entire student body during that ridiculous "Spring Shakespeare Celebration." NOBODY, least of all Mrs. Littleton, thought I would manage to get all the way through it.

//But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;//

//And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy.//

Oh man, I have been such a royal bitch. Now I know why Mrs. Littleton assigned me this stupid monologue.

I take off running. I hope I can find her, I hope she's sitting exactly where Dawn told me she would be. I hope she'll let me forgive her. I hope she'll forgive me. I hope somewhere, somehow, Mrs. Littleton knows I finally figured out what that monologue means.

I find the UC Sunnydale library and run inside practically knocking over 2 co-eds in the process.

I take the steps two at a time. The entire way over here my brain has been stuck, like it's on an endless loop --Find Willow. Apologize. Make it better. Make it right. Kiss her. Find Willow. Apologize. Make it better. Make it right. Kiss her. -- It keeps repeating over and over in my head and I'm afraid it's not going to stop. Ever.

I get to the third floor and discover that Dawn was right. It's quiet. Deserted. I don't see Willow anywhere. I walk around, look through the stacks. Nothing. Nobody.

I hear the elevator ding and see a grouchy looking librarian with a cart full of books heading in my direction. I grab a book from off the shelf nearest me, and stick my nose in it. Poetry. Poetry? Okay, I'm reading poetry. He walks by and gives me a look. WHAT? It's a library, I'm reading a book. Back off!

Mr. Plastic-Pocket-Protector keeps walking. I take the book with me as I continue on my search for Willow. A skinny black girl is curled up, sound asleep in one of the chairs by the window. She has 4 books piled on her chest, 2 at her feet. She's snoring. Guess I won't stop to ask her if she's seen any cute redheads wandering around here lately.

The librarian sneaks up behind me and asks coldly: "Can I help you find something?"

"No." I say. "I'm good." and I walk away waving my book of poems at him. I turn the corner and see it. Her stuff sitting on a table. But Willow's not there. I walk over for a closer look, just to make sure, but I'm positive that's her backpack. I open one of the textbooks to check the name inside. Yep. Willow Rosenberg. I look around. Where could she be?

Guess I'll read this book. "E.E. Cummings, Complete Poems, 1913-1962." Whatever.

I take one of Willow's post it notes, choose a blue pen from the wide variety of assorted colored writing instruments she has and write, carefully in my best, smallest handwriting:

"Willow-
I came to talk. I waited. I guess you saw me waiting & you don't want to talk, so, I'm just going to go. Read "VII" on page 290. It reminds me of you. Of me & you.
BTW, I'm sorry.
K."

I leave the post it note on the book and the book on top of her other stuff. I leave.

Once Willow is sure Kennedy has really left, she emerges from her hiding place and walks over to her books. She reads the note, sits down and opens the book.

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
--the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph

I walk out of the library kind of dazed. Kind of like I'm walking through jello. All of my senses are muted, frozen. How I am ever going to be able to make things right if she keeps on avoiding me?

I stop in the middle of the Quad to get my bearings. I'm all turned around. It's dark and really quiet. Great, maybe I'll attract a few vampires as I wander around aimlessly looking for my way home. That's slick. Well, no, that would be good, I could ask them to give me directions to the Slayer's house, I'm sure they all know where she lives! Screw it, this way looks as good as any. Arrrggghhh.

Not like I'm in any hurry. Not like I have someone waiting for me back at the house. Not like I won't be sleeping alone AGAIN tonight. And this mess is SO not my fault. I'm not the one who borrowed somebody's life-force without asking! I'm not the one who suggested breaking up as a solution to our problems. I'm not the one who ran aw--- . Gggrrrrrrr. I'm not the one who got all avoidy while I was trying to apologize for something that's NOT EVEN MY FAULT! Damn.

How does she do that? How does she pull these incredible stunts -- turning into a man after I kiss her -- zapping me with a mega-ton blast of magic -- and then get ME to chase her all over town so that *I* can apologize and make it right again? I'm insane. She's made me insane. Because of her I'm quoting Shakespeare and reading poetry. I've totally lost my mind.

Oh man, -- the realization hits me like a ton of bricks-- she really IS waaaay more powerful than I thought. My throat seizes up and I can't breathe. I put my hand over my mouth and fight the urge to scream. I look over my shoulder, but no one's there. I feel like someone's watching me. I hate this. I hate feeling like this. I start to run.

It's official. Willow and I are avoiding each other. But for some reason Willow doesn't seem to want anybody to think we're actually mad at each other so she's kind of pretending that everything's okay. We're both being very *polite*.

I think she meant to say something to me this morning about the note I left her. But I just couldn't handle it. I acted like, "Oh, yeah, the note. Sure, whatever. I'm going for a run, so we'll talk later." I said "we'll talk later" knowing we wouldn't.

What's there to say? I don't know what to say. We're both waiting for the other one to say something.

"No moon tonight, Einstein." I remind her. Besides the gloomy darkness, it's getting downright cold and eerily quiet. I wish I'd worn a jacket, this t-shirt doesn't cut it.

"Do you know how to do anything besides complain?" I ask. Okay, I'm tired, I'm cold, I'm in an extremely bad mood and Rona's on my last nerve, I can't help it.

"I'm colder than a witch's tit face down in 6 feet of snow, but you don't hear me complaining, do you?" I regret it the moment the words escape my lips.

"Jealousy will get you no where." I say in my best snarky voice. Then, as I pass her by I add, "Bitch."

Buffy turns around and gives us both a look. But I don't think she actually heard us. She was too busy talking to Spike. Poor Chao-Ahn, she's clueless. She's standing there holding that sword like her life depended on it. Well, I guess it might.

I keep walking. At least there's no wind. So, I'm concentrating on *listening* for vampires now. Geez, it's so freakin dark we're not going to see them till they're right up on us. But, there's nothing, no noise, not even the sound of cars passing on the road. It's gotta be late, probably past midnight already. I wonder if Willow's still up or if she's already gone to bed? Okay, pay attention! You managed to exchange a few civil words today. It's not exactly a reconciliation. Don't let your mind wander. You're tired. We're all tired.

At least it's been a productive night: Slayer/Spike Combo scoring 3 for the home team, Visitors 0. And in the second round of action: SiTs: 1, Visitors: 0. Willow's not going to believe it when I tell her about the outfit that one vampire chick was wearing! Total goth. I think rising out of that grave was the happiest 10 seconds of her life! Too bad her undead life was so "short lived"! Ha. The look of disappointment on her face when she saw my stake coming at her --damn-- I almost felt sorry for her. Okay, this is stupid, Willow doesn't give a rat's ass about my lame vampire story. Like she hasn't walked this cemetery a hundred times and killed more vampires than I'll ever see?

"Shhhhh." Buffy orders. But nobody's been talking so I don't know who the "sshhh" is for!

We all stop and soon enough we're all sensing the same thing: someone -- or more likely, some *thing*, is out there.

We wait. Nothing. We wait some more. I'm being alert. I'm paying attention like a good little Slayer-In-Training should. . . . . Nothing.

Finally, Buffy slowly starts moving, and we all do the same. Listening, watching, concentrating. This is good. I'm doing good. I haven't thought of Willow for at least...... 30 seconds! Okay, concentrate asshole.

I clench my cross-bow, ready to fire. Come on already! God, give me something to shoot at, please! Just show me something I can kill. Man, I am so ready!

I take deep steady breaths continuing to move slowly forward through the graveyard. I gotta try to focus my eyes to see better in the dark. I wonder if Buffy has "night vision"? That would be cool! Or X-ray Vision! Wicked. I wonder if Willow -- Alright. Try to go 10 seconds without thinking about Willow. Concentrate now, c'mon. Deep breath. Okay. Exhale. Good. Now. Really. I am totally, mentally and physically, prepared for the next vampire to jump out all unexpectedly from behind a crypt, or, uh, over a hedge, whatever. Bring it on.

I'm watching, I'm watching......I'm listening, I'm paying attention..... Okay, turn around, gotta always remember to watch your back, right? Goo--

AaAuUgGh!! --- Good. Fall flat on your ass. Sonofabitch. I was looking so hard for a vamp, I completely failed to notice this freakin flat headstone. Slick. Okay 'Enid Yates, Devoted Wife and Mother, 1906 - 1989' you got me.

"Newman." I mutter to myself as I start to get up. Rona's getting a good laugh off of this.

"Enough!" interjects Buffy. And that's pretty much all it takes to instantaneously shut us up. Buffy pauses and listens. Her spider senses are tingling. I'm now crouching on one knee, checking the crossbow and looking for something to shoot (besides Rona).

Rona peers over her right shoulder, looking in the same direction that Buffy is, and hoping like hell there isn't anything else looking for a fight tonight.

Chao-Ahn slowly turns in circles anxiously looking for -- I don't know if she even knows what she's looking for, but I'm pretty sure she's hoping she doesn't find it.

Spike yawns. The thrill of the kill isn't quite so thrilling these days. And the fun he had scaring the living spit out of us has worn off too. We know he's not going to hurt us. Or, at least we know Buffy won't let him hurt us. Well, that's what we're all telling ourselves.......

We wait some more. I realize I've been holding my breath. Alright, relax, take a deep breath and concentr---

What the fu--? Man, that is the most godawful, pitiful wail I have ever heard! Like a cat in a blender. Like a banshee on acid. Except I don't really know what a banshee is....

Shit! Where's it coming from? I don't see anything! Nobody else seems to have caught sight of it yet either. Well,......

It's so loud it seems to be coming from every direction! Oh, holy crap! There it is -- and it's not a vampire! Straight ahead of me, I can see it -- a demon coming out of a dilapidated, moldy crypt. A big, scaly, angry demon.

Damn! He's barreling out of that crypt like he's been shot out of a cannon! He's at least 100 feet away, but, he's making tracks. I don't know if he's running away from something, or actually running towards us, like on purpose. I don't think I want to know!

I am so FrEaKeD I don't know whether to flip or fly. I run behind one of the bigger gravestones for cover.

C'mon, pull it together. Pay attention. What do you see? What do you know? I peek around the headstone. Okay: Demon. Tall. Really tall. Bulky. Loud. Fast. Loud. Big. Way big. Gnarly wailing noises coming out of a pig like snout. Whoa, which is accompanied by lots of green slime and an incredibly foul odor. Awwwhhh, gawwwd. This thing MUST die. Die now!

The demon has finally gotten close enough for me to take a shot at it, so I step out from behind the grave and fire my crossbow.

YES! Direct hit -- Ye-- Whoa, no WaY!! The arrow bounced off his chest like it was a rubber toy. It didn't even scratch him!

I swallow hard when I realize, it may not have scratched him, but it did piss him off! He heads straight for me.

Before he can get to me, Buffy swings in to action, kicking, punching, pounding away for all she's worth. Spike pushes me back behind the gravestone then joins the action. He swings his right leg so that the demon's big hoof like feet get knocked out from under him. I run over to Chao-Ahn who's standing frozen in her tracks. I grab the sword she's holding and tell her:

I call out to Buffy and carefully throw the sword in her direction. Buffy catches it and in one swift, graceful move swings at the fallen demon's head. But, damn! -- he rolls out of the way. She completely misses.

The demon knocks the sword from Buffy's hand and sends it, and her, flying. She lands hard and in a very vulnerable position. Flat on her back and stunned from the hit she's just taken, and Spike's just a little bit too far away to get to the demon before the demon can get to Buffy. My brain shifts into overdrive but I can't think of what I should --or even *could* do to help.

As it turns out, Big Stinky Demon Guy isn't even interested in Buffy. He barely gives her a glance before turning his gaze on the three of us. The newbies. He grunts. A large amount of green goop dribbles down his rock-like chin and his eyes narrow their focus. Yep, it's pretty darn clear that it's the SiTs he wants, not Buffy.

Buffy, dazed though she is, registers this pretty quickly and screams to the us, "RUN!"

Rona and Chao-Ahn head off in the same direction. I make a dash for the sword, grab it and immediately turn towards the demon, determined to fight. The demon ignores me and runs after the other, defenseless, two.

"Hey!" I holler -- offended. "I mean, c'mon, like I'm not a tender piece of meat?"

Rona gets it, does a 90-degree turn, leaving Chao-Ahn confused and pissed off. Standing their like a fool, she looks at Rona, then sees the demon who's barreling towards them. He makes the easy decision to go after the one NOT running. DUH! Now she gets it, and Chao-Ahn starts running in the opposite direction. It's a good thing that girl is fast.

While the demon hesitates to consider which one of them to pursue, Buffy and Spike catch up to it, knocking him against a headstone. They commence once again to beat on him furiously. More horrific noise from the demon and even more vile slime as Buffy and Spike pound away. They've almost got him on the ground when the demon finally gets off a powerful backhand, sending Spike halfway across the cemetery. He then shoves Buffy up and off his chest and begins to get himself upright again.

AAaaAAArrRRRggGGhhHHH I scream as I rush forward and shove the sword straight in his gut.

Hah! YES! Score! Got him! And man is he shocked by this sudden turn of events. I'm panting. I can barely catch my breath. And Smelly Demon Guy is just standing there, stunned. I hear Buffy give me a little shout out:

Okay, I'm catching my breath. I'm carefully backing up, and Smelly Guy ain't moving. He's just staring. Dribbling toxic waste out of his snout. "Fall already, you gnarly bastard!!"

Oh, fu**. He lunges towards me. The sword still protruding from his chest. I start to make a run for it, but Smelly Guy is too quick. He grabs me by the arm, turns me around and smacks me upside the head. I go flying about 3 feet and land on top of a rosebush. Ohmygod. OoWw...... Oh hell, get up. Get up and get out of here.

I roll over in time to see the demon coming towards me. SHIT. Is he attacking? Or is he falling? Hard to tell.... I manage to almost stand up when the demon takes a nose dive face first into the rosebush and pretty much lands right on top of me.

If it were possible for me to scream at this point, I would be screaming. Screaming seems to me to be completely appropriate at this moment. But since I'm face down in the dirt and all the air in my lungs has been forced out of me, and this 400 pound demon is crushing my chest, I can't really make a sound. Much as I want to.

Somewhere around the edges of my brain, the part that can function without much oxygen, an idea skitters around and presents itself to the little itty bitty part of my mind that's still conscious. The idea that this could be it for me. The End. I just may have very possibly been crushed to death by this behemoth.

FREAKING || SUNDAY (just after midnight, so actually Monday) || SUMMERS' RESIDENCE

Meanwhile, back at Slayer Central, Willow is pacing in the living room. Dawn is watching TV, quickly clicking through channels. (57 channels and nothings on.) Anya is reading the latest issue of Cosmo. Xander and Andrew are playing Blackjack.

WILLOW: Don't you think it's late? I think it's late. I mean, they should be back by now.

Willow kneels on the couch looking out the front window. Nobody's paying attention to her.

Still, no one acknowledges Willow's nervousness. She turns around, sits on the couch and folds her arms across her chest. Finally, as if she's making an announcement:

ANYA: You're girlfriend's not stupid enough to think she can fight as well as Buffy or Spike, is she? 'Cause, if she has any sense, she'll just hang back and watch, and if she just watches, then it's likely little or no harm will come to her.

DAWN: Well, she is kinda gung ho. I get the impression Kennedy likes to mix it up.

ANYA: What's the big? You two are barely speaking to each other anyway. Pins and needles much?

WILLOW: I just have a bad feeling about this. I think they're in danger. All of them, not just Kennedy.

DAWN: (discovering a channel worth watching) OH! (singing along with the theme song) Meet George Jetson....Jane his wife....Daughter Judy......Their boy Elroy......

ANYA: I'm not going either, I want to find out in what ways Kate Hudson thinks she's *unlike* her mother.

Okay, I sooooo did not want to die like this. Breathe, I tell myself. Just breathe. Oh, blech, the taste of blood and dirt in my mouth is enough to make me gag.

There is some good news in all of this. I can see that the impact of the demon hitting the ground has caused the sword to go clear through him. He's dead.

Well, good, if I'm gonna be dead, he oughta be dead. Oh, look, ...stars....pretty.... little.... twinkly..... This is when my eyes roll back into my head..... Oh god, I don't wanna be dead......If there's a light I am NOT walking towards it....... I . . . am . . . . . not . . . . . .

Wow.....how long was I out?.....Why is it dark?.....Damn it, I am dead! No, wait, I can hear something! What is it? Whimpering noises! Oh, that's probably me.

Aahh, I can sense people, close by. Good. Finally. Oh, it's Rona and Chao-Ahn. Bummer. Okay, C'mon --Hello! Do something, let's not just stand there and stare at the dead girl! Worthless, useless, brainless --Ah, alright, good, Buffy and Spike are here now too. Ahhhhh. Yes. Thank you. Get this guy off me NOW. Oh lord, that's better. Okay. Now breathe. Breathe. Oh yes. Ohhh. Oowwww. Shit.

Kneeling next to me, Buffy frantically asks, "Are you okay? Kennedy?" She gently rolls me over. My eyes are shut, well, one eye is *swollen* shut, I'm guessing I'm pretty badly bruised and all scratched up from the rose bush, but I'm breathing. Breathing is good.

"Talk to me." Buffy demands. Then weakly, "Kennedy?" Mucho tension as we all wait to see if I'm a goner. "C'mon Kennedy, wake up. Willow will kill me if I don't bring you back 100% unharmed."

Willow. She said the magic word. Willow. I moan. I can't open my eyes yet, but I can moan.

"Well, she probably won't kill me. She'll probably only set my hair on fire." answers Buffy, with a huge amount of relief.

I open my eye, slowly. "That's too bad, you got nice hair. Well, not at the moment. At the moment, it's full of putrid slime."

"Okay, let's say we get this show on the road, then," says Spike as he helps lift me up off the cold ground. "I've got you now, luv. Good show. You've killed yourself a real demon. How d'ya feel?"

Oh my god. I'm standing. I thought I was dead, and now I'm standing. Good for me. Yeah me. I am one tough cookie. I am so--.... so.....falling over. Whoa.

Do I look alright, you ejit? My head is spinning. I don't even know if I just said that out loud? I don't think so.

"Huh?" I manage to squeak. I really didn't mean to continue with the moaning and groaning, but as Spike helps me walk, I can't help but let loose with some pitiful yelps. I am trying so hard to be brave and stoic. It is so not working.

"Great," I lie. "I'm fine." After a moment I have to ask: "Did I just kill that demon?"

"Hunh." Is all I can manage to say. Buffy hands me some kleenex and I start to wipe away the blood that's caked around my nose and on my bottom lip.

Rona walks up beside me and says: "Man, I can't believe he didn't kill you when he fell on you! And falling on you ain't the only way he coulda killed you. Dang, the smell alone nearly killed *me*!"

"Yeah, I've known some pretty foul demony odors in my day," adds Buffy, "but this guy ranks right up there with the worst of the worst."

Then Choa Ahn decides to contribute her own thoughts on the subject, in some weird combination of English and Cantonese, "Yaah, he something, something Shanghai Squid something, something, noon day sun something, something!" Ha Ha Ha Ha. She's laughing her ass off.

Then I see the street. Oh! Yes! Finally! We've almost made it to the cemetery entrance. I am so ready to get out of here. Though I suppose we could be attacked in the street. But surely the odds have got to be less. Anyway, I'm walking without any help now, but, man, am I tired. Every bone, muscle, tendon, and joint in my body aches. I am scratched in places I didn't know I had, and peeling huge globs of green slime out of my hair. Disgusting doesn't begin to describe it.

Buffy yawns then recoils from the persistent stink. "Uughh. And the smell just gets smellier."

"What do you think the chances are that any one of us will get a hot shower when we get back?" Rona asks.

"Well, let's see, it's after midnight, so the second round of PM Shower-Takers should already be bathed and snug in their, uh, bed roll thingies. So I'm guessing, tepid is probably as good as it's gonna get." Buffy answers.

"Great, cause I'm really starting to love the smell of rotting flesh." she grouses.

I have to stop. I actually *can't* take it anymore. I'm pretty sure the ground isn't supposed to be spinning.

"Could we....um, take a break?" I ask. "The stink is making it hard for me to breath. I just need a second to ......" --pass out?

"NO!" I practically shout. "..... I mean, --no thanks. I'll be okay. Just gotta catch my breath."

Carry me! As if. Whoa, steady now, if you fall down again, you might not have a choice.....whoaaooooa.

Buffy quickly comes up beside me and guides me to a stone bench. The others sit along the curb.

I don't get 2 seconds worth of peace before Xander and Willow pull up in his father's Oldsmobile. Willow jumps out of the passenger side before Xander even has a chance to come to a complete stop. She rushes towards me, but I have to bend over, put my head between my knees, to try to keep from puking.

"Ohmygod. Ohmygod." Willow says as she gets closer to me. Then she comes to a grinding halt. "Oh-My-God, what is that SMELL???" she asks, practically gagging. Humf. Tell me about it.

As soon as Xander gets out of the car it hits him. "Great God of the Gorgons," he says, "what did you kill? And PLEASE tell me you killed it."

"Kennedy, are you okay?" Willow asks me. As she gets closer to me, she sees.... "You are so not okay. Oh my god."

"She's okay Will." interjects Buffy. "She assures me at least 20% of her is completely unharmed."

"Funny, you don't look alright." she says to me. And I think she meant it nice, but it came out sounding really snarky.

"I think she looks smashing for someone who's just slayed a very big, very nasty Nasty." says Spike.

Then Xander pipes in: "Way to go, Kennedy. Slayed yourself a demon, huh? Stake?"

"Never seen, or smelled, this kind before." Buffy tells her. "But researching this particular demon should be a breeze. Most Prominent Characteristic: Being 7 feet tall? No. Pig-like snout that oozes green slime? No. Odorific? Oh yeah. We found us the stinkiest stinker in Stinkdom.

And Buffy remembers: "Oh yeah! Right. He was big with the wailing. Don't know what that was about."

"I hope he's one of a kind." says Rona as she stands up. "Especially since he seemed to be more interested in us, than in you."

"Good point." notes Buffy, "We need to get researchy with that particular feature."

Willow looks to Buffy with extreme worry written all over her face. I bet Willow is the worst liar in the world. Every emotion she has just flies across her face. Worry. Concern. Worry. Fear. Worry. Anger. Fear.

"Look," says Buffy, trying to calm her down, "lets just get everybody back home, we'll get cleaned up, and we can figure out what this demon was and what he wanted, in the morning. Over coffee. Like civilized people."

Willow is looking me over, still trying to assess the damage, finally she can't resist anymore and she kneels down next to me and gently asks:

"No! I'm okay." I say, trying to reassure her. I stand up, and yeah, I'm a little shaky, but not mortally wounded by a long stretch. "Assuming the stink doesn't kill me before I have a chance to shower." I add.

"A nice hot bath will do you a world of good. I recommend it highly." says Buffy, as she slyly grabs my elbow to steady me.

Spike concurs: "Oh yeah, a nice hot bath with tepid water is good for whatever ails you."

Each of us realizes at the same time that nobody's going to get a nice hot anything. Groans all around.

Willow walks over to Xander and asks: "Hey, will you drive me and Kennedy over to my parents?"

Xander stares at her blankly. He doesn't get it. Man, he is one dim bulb in the marquee of life.

"No." Buffy tells her pointedly. Then to Willow she says: "You guys go on. We'll walk. That'll give the hot water heater at home more time to heat the hot water ... hot."

"The one who gets the demon gets the hot water. Thems the rules." explains Buffy. I can go with that.

Willow looks at me to see if I'll refuse the offer or not. Things being all weird and uncomfortable between the two of us still.

Trying to be as enticing as possible, Willow says to me: "Lots and lots of hot water. Reeeeally big bathtub. All to yourself for as long as you want it......... little rose shaped soaps........fluffy towels......Bubbles!"

"Good!" she says, smiling. I don't think she realizes that I mean that I can't resist *her*, not the bubble bath.

"Let's go then." says Xander, clapping his hands together. "Meet you guys back at the ranch. Try to air yourselves out on the way home."

Xander pops open the trunk, pulls out a blanket and puts it around my shoulders, he then opens the car door and tries to help me into the back seat. I really don't want his help. Thankyouverymuch.

Backing off, he says. "Okay. Not interested in getting that close to the stink anyway. By the way, the blanket is to keep the slime off my upholstery."

Now I feel bad. "I'll do my best." I say. Willow gets into the back seat with me and we drive off.

Xander looks at me through the rear view mirror and asks: "But this demon was going after the Potentials, right? -- not Buffy?"

I really don't want to talk about it. As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, I kind of find it all rather upsetting and the last thing I want is to break down and cry in the backseat of Xander's car. So I'm looking at the blanket, looking out the window. Looking anywhere but at Willow or Xander. The silence is deafening.

As he pulls into the driveway, Xander smiles: "Not far at all. Got your keys Will?"

Now I'm wondering if I haven't gotten some of the green goop in my ears. Hibiscus?

"Your mother used to hide a spare key under the hibiscus. On the patio." He tells her. So we all get out of the car and head round to the back of the house.

"Seemed like really useful information when you told me sophomore year. Y'know, incase I ever needed to escape from my own personal demons, I mean, parents. --You offered me a nice warm floor to sleep on?"

"Thanks Xander." she smiles. She has such a sweet smile. I'm standing there looking at her all moony eyed when Xander says:

"Not a problem." He breaks my reverie by starting to offer his help getting me inside. I shoot him a look and he thinks better of it. "Okay then." he says, backing off. "Enjoy the hotness of your bath."

So.....here we are, in the Rosenberg Kitchen. It's very modern. Very clean. Very quiet.

"Um. Y'know," says Willow, "before we go any further, maybe, uh, because of the slime factor, you know, maybe I should ---"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm sure we have garbage bags, somewhere." Willow begins opening cabinets and drawers looking everywhere for garbage bags. "Why?"

"I was thinking I'd put the blanket and I guess my clothes even, in a garbage bag and we can.....I don't know....burn them later?"

"I don't want to get this slime on anything in you parents house. It's kind of industrial strength."

Willow finds the garbage bags and pulls 2 of them out. "Here we go! I'll go get you, uh, uh -- a towel and start the bathtub and, do you want to change in the garage? Then you don't have to worry so much about slime getting on anything important?"

"Be right back. Oh, the garage is out that door." She points to a door on the opposite side of the kitchen. "It should be unlocked."

Willow leaves and I take a more careful look around. So this is where Willow grew up? Nice. Middle class. Tasteful, in a boring kind of way. I head out to the garage. 2 big cars sit side by side. I fold the blanket up as tightly as I can and force it into one of the garbage bags. Before I get around to taking off any of my clothes, Willow returns.

"Here you go. One extra large beach towel circa 1993. Slime it up, it needs to be burned anyway." Willow shivers. "Oooh. It's kinda cold out here."

Willow can't help laughing a little bit. And I'm surprised at how nice it feels to have a moment between us that's not all weird with tension.

"She wasn't particularly attuned to my tastes. I would have much preferred a Pink Power Ranger. No way would I be letting you slime up a Power Ranger towel,...y'know,*IF* I had one."

"Do you need help?" she asks me, and just as she realizes that she's offering to help me remove my clothes, she does a quick retreat. "No, of course you don't need help. You know how to undress yourself! And, you're not hurt. So....okay. I'll go check on the bath. Make sure the hot water is still, hot. But not too hot. Good hot." She leaves. I can see her shaking her head.

I decide to take a moment to assess the situation. My clothes probably really are going to have to be burned. They're disgusting. I kick off my shoes and start to pull my long sleeve t-shirt up over my head. SonOfaBitch! Oouuch. Oh, man. Dried blood. Arrrrgghhh. That hurt.

So I more gingerly proceed with undressing. At least my underwear's not completely ruined, cause damn it, that's a brand new sports bra, and when would I have time to go shopping for bras if this one got ruined? I start to take an inventory of the cuts from the rosebush, then realize it's useless, there are way too many, so I just wrap the towel around myself and begin to concentrate on pulling slime out of my hair. I guess because of the colder temperature, the slime has congealed and it's actually fairly easy to pull off in big clumps. Ugh. This is revolting.

So, that's one shirt, one pair of pants and my favorite running shoes, totally ruined. Oh, not to mention my dignity. Aah well, at least I've still got my underwear and my sense of ..... yeah, well, I still got my underwear.

I stuff what's ruined into the other garbage bag, tighten the towel around me and head for the bathroom. Where I find Willow sitting on the edge of the bathtub, testing the water.

"Good news." I say, "Got all the slime out of my hair. Well, at least the big glumps."

"That *is* good." she says. "Um, I couldn't decide which you'd like better, the lilac scented bubbles, or the bath salts."

"Good call." She says and hands me the salts and takes back the lilac. When she turns around to shut off the water I sneak a peek at myself in the mirror. Oh god. It's not pretty.

"Well, there you go." she says. "I'll.....I'll just wait....um, my room is right down the hall, and I'll just wait and if you need anything --ANYthing, just, holler okay? Oh! I put some pajamas here for you.

"So, you're all set then. You're not hardly stinky at all anymore, by the way. Or, I'm getting used to it! Hunh." Willow stops to think about that, but decides to withhold further comment. "Well. Enjoy your bath. Relax. Feel better." She starts to exit, but just as she gets through the door --

"Oh!" Willow says all flustered and embarrassed. "No, uh, y'know, we have a guest room and I'll sleep in my own--"

Well, think of something quick you fool! "Well. . . . I'm usually the first one up in the morning, and I get everybody going ...? We have a regimen, you know."

"Maybe you could take a day off? Or at least the morning. You need a little time to recover Kennedy."

"From the killer rose bush? I'm scratched up Willow, I've got a black eye and a busted lip, that's all. The survival rate is pretty high."

She stands there and scrutinizes me. Then says, "Yeah, if that's really all it is." She pauses. "We can go back tonight if you want." And then she just walks away.

I splash my hand around in the tub to test the water. It's perfect. I drop the beach towel and climb in. It's painful, but it hurts soooooo good. I know I've got to get myself cleaned up before I even think about relaxing so I get right to work. Hmmm, just like she said, little rose-shaped soaps. Thankfully, the stink has worn off considerably. It feels good to wash away all the slime, dirt and blood. I'm about as sore as I've ever been in my life and I'm pretty sure washing my hair shouldn't be so painful it makes me want to cry.... But hey, things aren't so bad. I'm not dead. I let the dirty water drain out and then refill the tub so I can sit and soak for awhile in clean water. I need a few minutes to just relax.

But, of course, when I finally get the tub filled up again, I don't gently zone out. No, I *pass* out. Again. I can tell I was out for quite awhile because the scented candle Willow put on the floor by the tub has burned down to almost nothing. Damn, now the water's freezing cold. Bbbrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. A polite knock on the door stops me from cussing a blue streak.

"Kennedy?" I hear Willow ask. She opens the door about a half an inch and says, "I'm not coming in, I just -- are you okay? You didn't fall asleep did you? Is the water still hot?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I was just getting out." I tell her. I pull the plug and the water starts draining.

"No, take your time. I didn't mean to intrude." She hears water splashing around and figures it's me getting out of the tub, which it is. "You don't have to get out. Soak as long as you like! Fill up the tub with hot water again, okay? I'm sorry I bothered you." I hear the door click shut. I stand up and grab a clean towel. Whoa. Not again! Shit.

"Uh. Willow?" My voice is weak but it's all I can manage at the moment. "I could use a hand, actually." God I hope she heard me.

Willow comes charging in. She heard. She finds me standing there in the tub. Leaning against the tile. I managed to get the towel pretty much all the way around myself. But I'm so dizzy I don't think I can move without falling over.

"Yeah, probably." I lie. I get both feet firmly planted on the pink rug and I turn away from her. "Thanks." I say. "I'm okay now." I quickly pull my arm away.

That pisses her off. I can sense it. Finally she blurts out: "Are you planning to stay mad at me forever?"

"I'm just trying to help. Why can't you let people help you?" she's practically screaming at me now.

"I thought we'd settled this." She says, on the verge of tears. "You know I didn't mean to hurt you when I opened the portal, you know that wasn't personal. I don't know how to explain it any better, or how to help you understand. And I tried to tell you how much your note meant to me, but you wouldn't listen. You ran away. Then you acted like it was all no big deal. And you say everything's okay, when clearly everything's not okay! Say you're not okay if you're not okay! Okay?"

Well. There you go. Now it's out there. It's big and it's just -- out there. Lots of silence and staring at our feet while we both consider the big "Not Okay" hanging there, sucking all the oxygen out of room.

I want to explain but I'm not sure I understand it myself. Part of the reason I was mad about the whole getting my life-force zapped out of me was knowing that, if Willow had just asked me before hand, said 'Hey, listen, I might need a little extra umph to get this portal open, can I have some of your mojo?' I'da been all 'Hell yeah, take what you need. Go for it.' I'd have given it up willingly. But she didn't.

"Willow, it's not just you I'm scared of. I mean, turns out, I've discovered a lot of things to be scared of the past couple of days. I'm just trying to deal, y'know? Guess I'm not doing a good job of it."

"Oh, I don't know......People committing suicide? Getting advice from Anya. Demons that are 7 feet tall with a hard on for Slayers-in-Training? Being crushed to death? Getting attacked by a Killer-Rosebush. Stuff like that."

"Am I still at the top of the list?" she asks, almost in a whisper. Her bottom lip trembling.

Willow takes a step towards me but hesitates. Neither one of us knows what to do.

"I don't like being scary," she says. And then she reaches for me. She lightly puts her hand on my forearm, I guess to see if I'll jerk away from her. I don't. She steps closer and gives me a hug. A tender, gentle, little hug.

She's barely touching me, but I can feel the electricity arc between our bodies. Oh good, something else to be scared of. I'm wet and she's high voltage. Oh god, I should tell her, but I can't seem to bring myself to do it. I put my arms around her and hug back. I hug her, but I don't tell her that a big part of all this is just me scared of being in love. I don't tell her I've never felt this way for anyone before. I don't tell her how unnerving it is for me to find out what I thought was just lust is really . . . more. Way more. It's too much to think about right now. I can't deal.

"Hey, maybe we *should* stay here tonight?" I say, letting my head rest on her shoulder.

"Yeah." And I wonder if she knows how incredible this feels to me. To have her in my arms. To let her hold me. Why have I been afraid of this?

"Oh. Well, dang, guess that means I gotta let go of you." I say, releasing her from the hug.

"For the time being" she says. "I won't be long." She hurries out and I stand there, dazed.

What just happened? Was that it? The big fight? Did we just fight and make up? I'm used to, like, lots of hollering, cussing, and people throwing things. That was tense, but.... Hmmm. Weird. Well, at least we cleared the air a little. That's good.

So, here I am in a fluffy bath towel, my hair a tangled mess, with a black eye and a busted lip. I've got at least 2 dozen scratches of various shapes and sizes all up and down my arms and legs and another dozen covering my torso. I'm so tired I can't move. I know I should try to comb my hair, but that requires energy. And I don't have any. So I'm just going to stand here a little while.

Okay. C'mon. The sooner you comb your hair the sooner you can get in bed and go to sleep. Okay. Pick up the comb. Pick it up. Now. Pick. Up. The. Comb. Right. Now. Okay. I'm picking up the comb. I'm combing. Ouch. This sucks.

Willow comes back in and sees me painfully trying to work the comb through my hair.

Willow gently, slowly combs through my hair. It feels nice. She's being very careful of the knots. I can tell she's trying not to look in the mirror. She doesn't want to see me watching her. From the look of concentration on her face I bet she's got a super turbo-charged interior monologue going on in her head! I can only imagine.....

WILLOW'S INTERIOR BABBLE: *She has such pretty hair. And shoulders. Nice shoulders. No. Concentrate on the hair. Just comb the hair. Don't look at the bare shoulders. Hair, we're all about the hair. Darn, she smells good. The bath salts were the right choice -- NO, time for combing, not smelling. You can smell later. NO, that's not what I meant. Oh, thank god she can't read my mind....*

"What?!" she squeaks. "I'm not. I'm not thinking anything. You don't know what I'm thinking."

"You're thinking you're glad I don't smell like that demon anymore." Then, once I've caught her eye in the mirror, I add, "And, that it's a damn good thing I don't smell like your grandma either."

Willow smiles at me, then laughs. "If we had some borsht and gefilte fish to go with the lilac bubbles we could create a *truly* foul grandma smell! Now, that would be a very handy repellant. I mean, it would repel more than me, I'm sure."

"Well, I'm not really interested in discovering the things that repel you." I tell her. "I'm kind of more interested in figuring out what you're attracted to."

"I thought you'd already figured that out, with you're, y'know, lesbidar." she says.

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't tell me any particulars. I'm interested in the particulars." I explain.

She finishes combing through my hair and picks up a hand towel which she uses to squeeze the excess water out. She looks at me in the mirror, but doesn't say anything. She looks pensive. Not sad exactly. Thoughtful. Her eyes cloud over, like she's remembering something, she looks away. . . No! Willow come back!!

"So, the black eye and busted lip, not necessarily big turn ons, huh? That would be my luck."

She snaps out of it. She looks at me. Takes me by the shoulders and turns me around. Acts like she's giving me the once over.

"No, in-cor-rig-i-ble." she says again as she walks over to the rack to hang up the hand towel.

As I turn around to ask her what the hell 'incorrigible' means another wave of dizziness hits me and I have to grab the counter really quick to keep from pitching over. Luckily the towel doesn't fall off of me! Hmmm, well, actually, that could have been interesting.....

"Kennedy!" she says in a panic. "What's wrong?" She grabs me by the elbows and steadies me.

"I'm okay. Just a little woozie. Took that turn a little quick, that's all. Really." I can't help giggling, thinking about the towel falling and Willow grabbing me and...oh, I'm getting dizzy again.

"C'mon, the guest room is just over here." She grabs the pajamas she had laid out for me and leads me across the hall. "I think you'll be comfortable in here. But if you need anything. Extra pillow. Another blanket. Whatever, just holler, I'll be right down the hall."

"I'll leave the light on in the bathroom. Here's the pajamas, and I put a glass of water by the bed. Can you think of anything else you need?" she asks.

"Okay, then. . . . Good night." she says. She squeezes my arm and walks away. She pulls the door closed behind her. Doesn't shut it all the way though.

Unbelievable. Three steps forward and two steps back. Oh well. I'm too tired and sore to do anything but sleep anyway. I grab the soft flannel pajama bottoms and cotton t-shirt that she left for me and put them on, careful of the scratches, bruises and cuts. Mmmm, they smell like Willow. I climb into bed.

Sleep. Finally. I can sleep. The pillow is soft. The sheets feel nice and clean. My head hurts. I should've asked Willow for some aspirin. Oh well . . . I can . . . get . . . . . some . . . la-- zzzZzzzzZzzzzzZzzzzzZzzzzZzzzzZ.

I'M IN THE BASEMENT OF BUFFY'S HOUSE CARVING STAKES AND TALKING TO SPIKE WHILE BUFFY UNCHAINS HIM.

BUFFY: But if you don't use them to kill vampires you can use them to pitch tents. They could still be useful.

ME: No, these are for me to kill vampires with. I'm not a firecracker. I'm a Vampire Slayer.

I WALK UP THE STAIRS AND OPEN THE BASEMENT DOOR. IT LEADS DIRECTLY INTO MY GRANDMOTHER'S KITCHEN. I STOP IN THE DOORWAY AND SEE MY FIVE YEAR OLD SELF RUNNING OVER TO HER:

SHE PICKS ME UP IN HER ARMS AND HUGS ME. I WRAP MY LEGS AROUND HER WAIST AND HUG HER TIGHTLY. SHE WHISPERS SOMETHING IN MY EAR.

I SKIP OUT OF THE ROOM, PASSING MY ADULT SELF AND AS I TURN TO FOLLOW I DISCOVER THAT I AM NOW IN BUFFY'S BEDROOM. A WOMAN IN A BLUE SHIRT IS STANDING BY THE WINDOW.

TARA: It is good. You're not supposed to see it. Someone else has to show it to you, before you can see it.

THE WOMAN IN THE BLUE SHIRT FALLS TO THE GROUND. ALL OF THE LIGHT BULBS IN THE ROOM SHATTER AND SUDDENLY I'M STANDING IN THE MAGIC BOX. WILLOW COMES THROUGH THE DOOR. SHE'S WEARING A WHITE SHIRT WHICH IS ALSO SPLATTERED WITH BLOOD. SHE DOESN'T SEE ME. THE HANGING LIGHTS BURST AS SHE WALKS PAST THEM.

BOOKS FLY OFF THE SHELVES AND LAND ON THE TABLE IN FRONT OF WILLOW. SHE SINKS HER HANDS INTO ONE OF THEM AND THE WORDS ARE ABSORBED THROUGH HER BODY. THE INK FLOWS UP HER SKIN TO HER BRAIN.

I RUN OUTSIDE INTO THE STREET. A SKITTISH, BALDING, BESPECTACLED LITTLE FELLOW IN AN OLD WOOLEN SUIT IS CARRYING AN UMBRELLA. AS I PUSH PAST HIM HE SAYS TO ME CONSPIRATORIALLY:

I GO INTO THE ALLEY NEXT TO THE MAGIC BOX. IT SEEMS LIKE IT'S NIGHT TIME IN THE ALLEY, BUT THE SKY LOOKS LIKE IT'S DAYTIME. I RUMMAGE THROUGH GARBAGE CANS, DUMPSTERS AND OLD CRATES LOOKING FOR MY STAKES. ANYA COMES OUT OF A DOOR FROM THE BACK OF THE STORE.

ANYA: So? What's your point? You HAVE no point! There IS no point. There isn't going to BE any point. And there never HAS been any point. THAT'S the point.

I WALK OUT OF THE ALLEY AND DIRECTLY INTO A FOREST WHERE ITS DARK. NIGHTTIME. THERE I FIND --

SHE POINTS THROUGH THE TREES, FURTHER INTO THE WOODS. I SEE WILLOW.
SHE'S DRESSED IN BLACK NOW. EVEN HER HAIR IS BLACK.

I WALK AWAY. FAST. I DON'T LIKE THIS PLACE. IT'S CREEPY. I HAVE TO FIND MY WAY OUT OF HERE. I STUMBLE OVER A LOG. I'M HELPED UP BY THE WOMAN IN THE BLUE SHIRT.

I LOOK BACK OVER MY SHOULDER, BUT KEEP WALKING. I SEE HER THROUGH THE TREES, I CAN SEE WILLOW MOVING THROUGH THE FOREST. SHE IS AFTER SOMEBODY. ME? SHE LOOKS SCARY. OR MAYBE SCARED.

I START TO RUN. I CAN HEAR THE SOUNDS OF SOMEONE SCREAMING. A MAN. HE SOUNDS TERRIFIED. I PUT MY HANDS OVER MY EARS AND KEEP RUNNING. I DON'T LOOK BACK. I QUICKLY COME TO A CLEARING. IT'S DAYLIGHT AGAIN. IT'S BRIGHT. TOO BRIGHT. I STOP TO CATCH MY BREATH. XANDER IS THERE EATING A CHEESE SANDWICH. I FINALLY ADMIT TO HIM --

I TURN TO LOOK AT WHERE ALL THE SUNLIGHT IS COMING FROM. I AM STANDING ON THE EDGE OF A DESERT. THE WOMAN IN THE BLUE SHIRT IS STANDING NEAR A SAND DUNE WAVING ME OVER.

I WALK OVER TO THE WOMAN IN THE BLUE SHIRT. ANOTHER PERSON COMES UP BEHIND HER. A PRIMITIVE HUMAN IN GREY AND DIRTY RAGS, MOVING LIKE AN ANIMAL. SHE HAS LONG WILD HAIR. THE PRIMITIVE COMES TOWARDS ME. SHE'S SCARY. SHE VIOLENTLY GRABS MY WRIST AND TRIES TO MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH ME.

BUFFY AND THE WOMAN IN THE BLUE SHIRT KEEP MORPHING BACK AND FORTH, ONE BECOMES THE OTHER, AND THEN BACK AGAIN.

Ouch! Aarrggghhh. Before I even have half a second to figure out why the hell I'm laying on the floor being strangled by a pink sheet, Willow comes charging in.

I start to giggle. I can't help it. It's funny! I've fallen out of bed and Willow's a half a jump ahead of a fit and she's got toothpaste all over her mouth. Oh man, ow, ugh . . . laughing hurts. Shit.

"Are you -- why are you laughing?" She asks as she begins to untangle me from the evil queen-sized sheet and dastardly comforter.

"Because it's funny, Willow. Ugh. It'd be funnier if it didn't hurt so much." I grunt as I pull myself upright.

"I dunno!" For some reason I think this is all pretty hysterical and I double over in a fit of giggles.

"I think I may have bruised one of my bruises." I tell her. This completely cracks me up.

"Were you trying to get out of bed? Did you trip?" She's still trying to figure this out. How sweet.

"No, Willow -- No, it was just a dream. Really." I'm starting to regain my composure. I lean back against the bed and try to catch my breath. "Oh my god, that was so funny. I fell out of bed." I look at Willow's sweet face. The fear and worry in her eyes.....the Colgate getting crusty around her lips. I start laughing again.

I point to her mouth but before I can tell her about the toothpaste, she grabs my hand--

"That wasn't there before, was it?" she asks me, with considerable concern in her voice.

She looks at me for a moment, then says, "Yeah.....maybe, ... but I kinda don't think so. Does it hurt?"

"Not your fault. ..... Um . . . You have toothpaste all over your mouth." I tell her. I decide that maybe I shouldn't offer to lick it off.

"Oh," she sighs, "I was brushing my teeth when I heard you go bump in the night. Or, rather, morning. Bump in the morning." She settles in and sits comfortably next to me. "So....what was this dream you were having?" She asks me as she tries to wipe off the toothpaste with her pajama sleeve.

"Oh" I yawn. "I'm not sure I remember much of it. It was really bizarre. So real. Like Hyper-Real."

"Well," I begin, "there was this weird, like, aborigine woman, with wild hair and raccoon eyes. Mean as a snake."

"What did he want?" She puts her hand on my knee like I need to be consoled over the cheese.

"Not exactly." I'm not sure I want to talk about this after all. There is a long pause. Finally, Willow says--

"The First Slayer." she tells me. She looks to see what kind of reaction I'm going to have.

"For real?" I ask. My eyes get big. Willow nods. Wow. "That would make sense." I say.

"In the dream I was looking for these stakes that I had made. And everybody kept telling me that they weren't mine. Or that somebody else was going to use them. Then, I ended up in the desert and this chick grabs my wrist and tells me 'that's not where my power is.' ......" I take a deep breath. "So, the *First Slayer* huh? She's kind of a bitch."

"How the hell should I know?" I say standing up. I'm starting to remember more of the dream, and I really don't want to talk about it. "I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" I ask.

'Yeah" says Willow. And she stands up too. She pauses, kinda shakes her head and then says: "I made coffee already. And, um, I put a new toothbrush in the bathroom for you." She seems distracted.

"Thanks." I say as I put the comforter back on the bed. "And thanks for rescuing me from the blankets."

"No problem." She gives me a hug. "I'm glad you're okay" she says with entirely too much concern in her voice.

"Me too." I say hugging back. Hmmmm. That was all heart-felt and fraught with meaning...... Wonder what the hell it means? She's not telling me something.

"I can make pancakes, or ... we might have some eggs? I haven't finished checking out the supplies. My mom usually keeps enough food in the house to feed an army."

"I heard that about you." she says tugging on my shirt. Oh, that was flirting! She totally flirted!! With ME!!! 'bout time too. "I'll be in the kitchen." she says on her way out.

What a night. What a morning. Ugh. I look in the mirror. What a mess. My eye isn't swollen shut anymore, but it's black and blue. My bottom lip looks better, but it's still puffy and sore. Lovely. I look at my wrist. It's totally bruised, all the way around. I look like I was on the loosing end of some horrific domestic disturbance. Okay, like living in Sunnydale isn't dangerous enough, now I have to worry about being attacked in my dreams? How NOT fair is that? I brush my teeth and comb my hair and decide *not* to think about the First Slayer, or anything else associated with my little trip to La-La Land. I'll think about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day . . .

I find my way to the kitchen where Willow has pulled out every possible breakfast option imaginable. Cereal, bread, bagels, eggs, pancake mix, muffin mix, oatmeal, cream of wheat, fruit, milk and juice.

Oh, the places we could go...... "Uh, you know what sounds good? -- French toast!"

"No," she laughs, "Are you sure you want to do the cooking? You're the guest, I should be cooking."

"I don't mind" I tell her. And I don't. "Okay, all I need is -- this, this and this." I say, grabbing the bread, eggs and milk. "And maybe the fruit."

"All righty" she says and she starts putting everything else away. "Oh, here -- coffee, no cream." she says handing me a mug. "Do you need cream? We have cream. Well, we have milk, but when we put it in coffee we call it cream."

"Nope. I'm good. Thanks." I smile at her. She's adorable. "Now, let's see.... I'm gonna need a big bowl, frying pan, spatula, butter, or no stick spray, or something like that. A fork. Syrup, or powdered sugar. Or both."

This is so nice. Just me and Willow. No hordes of girls trying to elbow their way to the refrigerator to get the last drop of milk, or Andrew providing a running commentary on the various attributes of his favorite super-heroes. Or Buffy giving a speech. Just us. We don't get much alone time. I should tell her how nice --- . A cold shiver runs down my spine. I stop to remember something from my dream. It's fuzzy. Something about *I should tell her*......

"Butter. Butter is better" I smile. I turn away from her. What the hell did I dream?

"Are you sure this is where you wanna shop?" She asks, pulling into the parking lot of Sunnydale's one and only Goodwill Store. She drives very carefully. Her mother's four door sedan is as big as a boat and about as easy to maneuver as a tank.

"Yeah, this'll do. I mean, I'm just buying clothes that are gonna get trashed. And the Goodwill usually has some fun stuff." I explain.

"Okay. So, I'll meet you back at the house. I should be back by 2 or 3 at the latest. I mean, I think Professor Soren will end class early today, but even if she doesn't, I should be back by 3."

"I have the directions you so carefully made for me right here." I say, holding up the folded piece of paper.

"Don't forget to take my stinky clothes by the dump." I remind her as I step out of the car.

I wave good-bye as she drives off. I know she thinks I'm crazy for wanting to shop at a Goodwill Store, instead of at the Mall. She knows I can afford to shop wherever I want. I dunno. This just seemed easier to me. I really didn't want to go back to Buffy's to get my wallet, so that means I have an entire 20 bucks to spend on another shirt, pair of pants and shoes.

And the fact that I'm wearing a Sunnydale sweatshirt, with matching maroon sweat pants and an old worn out pair of sea green flip flops just doesn't strike me as the right outfit for shopping at one of those snooty places they have in Malls. The Goodwill will do just fine.

As I browse around through the store I get lots of strange, sympathetic looks. Great. Everybody must think I got beat up by my evil boyfriend last night. If they only knew. . . .

As I stroll down Willow's street towards the house, I swing my bag of goodies lazily. I'm finishing off my third tootsie roll pop, thinking about that freakin' weird dream. Well, really, I'm trying NOT to think about the dream, but it's kind of like when someone tells you-- "Now, whatever you do, do not think of a pink elephant," all you can do is think of a pink elephant.

I walk around to the back of the house, and instead of going inside I decide to sit in the shade for awhile. It feels nice out here. I'm tired. That was a longer walk than I imagined it would be. I sit down on the chaise lounge with it's back set in a semi-upright position. Hmmm. Very comfortable, if mildly ugly, green cushions. I stretch out and close my eyes.

Just as I am about to doze off I hear a car pull up and the garage door open. Willow must be back. A smile creeps across my face. I really like having her all to myself. Though I think it makes her a little nervous to be alone with me. Like last night. Why wouldn't she stay with me? Not like we haven't slept in the same bed before. But she acted all twitchy after I teased her about --

"No" I say, though obviously I was. "I mean, maybe, a little." I take a moment to come back to Planet Earth. "How were your classes?"

I point to my face. "People stared. Guess they thought I'd been beaten up by some big dumb guy."

"S'okay..... Hey, Willow, can I ask you something?" Where I've gotten the courage to all of a sudden bring this up I don't know, but it seems like as good a time as any, and it's been bothering me, so.....

I take a deep breath. "Does it bother...um, I mean.....do you ..... *not* like it when I flirt with you?" Whew. There I said it.

"I don't *dislike* it . . . " she says. "But . . . sometimes it makes me feel . . . uncomfortable."

She drops her head, she can't look at me and say this. "Just . . because . . . it's . . . sexy."

"But, that means I'm doing it right." I tell her. She laughs. Thank god. "I'm sorry if I've made you feel uncomfortable. That's not ever what I wanted. You know that, right?"

"Oh, yeah, of course I know. I'm sorry too." She says finally looking up. "What made you ask that anyway?"

"I wanted to see you pout." I say knocking my elbow against her side. "No, really, I was thinking about last night. I guess, I expected you to stay with me, and when you didn't.... It just made me wonder if.... if I was scaring you off....or something." Okay that's probably enough seriousness for one day! I start to stand up and groan involuntarily. I'm still really sore.

"Yeah" I say sitting back down next to her. "I need a nap! We don't have to go back to Buffy's yet, do we?"

"Not if you don't want to," she says. We sit there for a moment. "Kennedy? I might be able to.....uh....help you ..... I mean, I think I know something that could make you feel better." She looks all flustered and embarrassed.

"That would be okay." She says. Then she turns herself around to sit all the way back in lounge chair. She pats the space between her legs and says. "Come here." I turn my back to her and pull my feet up on to the cushions. "There you go, now lean back." she says. She pulls her legs up on to the cushions too, folds her arms around me and whispers in my ear. "Relax."

I stretch out my legs and take a deep breath. I feel better already. "Concentrate on your breathing" she says softly. I yawn. I fall asleep almost instantly. My last conscious thought is: I hope I don't drool.

Willow's hands feel warm against mine. Our fingers lightly entwined. Her breath soft against my ear. As I slowly come back to consciousness I can feel my skin begin to tingle. My heart is racing. My own breathing ragged. I whimper and start to turn my body towards her, my fingers tightening their grip on hers. I swallow hard and push back against Willow. I feel a low moan deep in my throat. I arch my back. God Willow, what are you doing to me?

"Huh? What?" mumbles Willow, who's obviously been sound asleep too. She puts her hand on my back. "What is it?" she asks sitting up.

I'm panting. Trembling. Shaking. What is it? What *is it*? Wouldn't I like to know! I mean I think I *should* know. I think I *do* know. But....NO. That could NOT be what it is. Could it? Noooo......

"Kennedy?" She puts her arms around me again. "It's okay." she says trying to comfort me. "Shhhh. It's okay." She softly strokes my arms and waits till my breathing slows a little. "I think I know what happened. Did you ....."

*Get a happy?* Is that what you crazy kids are calling it these days? Now *I'm* turning 6 shades of red.

"You think that's funny?" I ask. "Cause I think it's kinda weird, given the circumstances. Or did I miss something? Well, DUH," I groan, "Obviously I missed something."

She laughs harder. "I'm sorry" she says through her giggles. I try to pull away but she tightens her grip. "No wait a second. I can explain." She says. She leans in to me and puts her chin on my shoulder. "I was meditating, to help you heal. Drawing power from the earth and transferring it to you. I guess I fell asleep and .... my subconscious sort of took over. I was just paying you back for all that flirting." she says, giving me a squeeze.

"Are you mad?" she asks me. I shake my head no. I turn myself around to look at her.

She pulls up my sleeve and I see what she means. The bruises on my wrist are gone. Completely. "Wow." I say. "You did that?" I ask her.

"You healed me by meditating?" I'm blown away by the idea. "And the *interesting* side effects -- just a lucky bonus? Have you done this before? Who else have you *healed*?"

"Nobody, just myself. Buffy helped me. I mean, I used her strength to help me heal. --Without bonus side effects!" she says pointedly.

I grin. I love to see her squirm. "You couldn't have done this last night when I was really feeling the pain?" I suddenly think to ask.

"Well, I thought about it," she says, "but I was afraid you wouldn't want me to. Cause, it is kinda like magic. And .... also, I was a little afraid there would be the ... interesting side effects. ..... Wasn't sure if you'd want that either."

"Not sure? Just how obvious do I need to be?" She let's her head drop. No, she's not getting off that easy. "Man!" I say, "You give a girl a happy, you'd think you'd let her kiss you every once in awhile." She falls back on the lounge chair totally embarrassed. "You are so busted!" I say turning on her. Grabbing her sides, tickling her everywhere. She squeals and hollers and tries to push my hands away.

This is so easy. She's ticklish everywhere. She changes strategies and instead of trying to push me away, she pulls me closer. Nice try Rosenberg, but it's not going to work. A diversionary tactic that won't --

She kisses me. That works. That so works. She rolls me over and kisses me again. And again. And again. Shout halleluiah come on get happy! She kisses my forehead, my cheek, my chin. She smothers me with sloppy wet kisses, then blows a raspberry on my neck. "Hey" I squeal cause it gives me the shivers.

"Hey yourself" she says pulling away a little to look at me. "Thank you." She says quietly.

"Shouldn't I be thanking you?" I ask, catching my breath finally. "You're the one who did all the healing work."

She just smiles a little and looks deep into my eyes. What's going on in there behind those beautiful green eyes, I wonder. Then a voice inside my head says "Tell her, tell her now." I panic. I can't remember what I'm supposed to tell her. I close my eyes, squeeze them shut and try to remember what I said I would tell her, .... but I can't.

"Oh, nothing" I say. "I was just trying to remember something from my dream. I lost it."

We decide to walk back to Buffy's instead of calling Xander to come get us. We know we're not going to get much alone time once we return to Slayer Central. Willow suggests that we should take the scenic route, through the park. Okay by me, I'm freshly healed and sporting my brand new / used running shoes. And, let's face it, I'd follow that girl anywhere.....

"So, what did you get at the Goodwill Store" Willow asks, taking my hand as we leave her parent's house.

"A sleeveless, v-neck blue shirt, pair of blue jeans, these Skeechers, and a little something for you." I tell her.

"Yep. And, except for the shoes, everything still had the original tags. Never been worn! The pants are too long, but, I know how to fix that!"

"You didn't have to get me anything." She says. Then quickly adds "So......whatcha get me?"

"A shirt." I laugh. "I think you'll like it. I mean, when I saw it, I thought, --that looks like something Willow would like. But hey, if you don't like it -- Well, that's $4 I'll never see again." I shake my head and grit my teeth, like it's really painful.

"I'm sure I'll like it." She says. "As long as it's not a fuzzy sweater, I don't do fuzzy sweaters anymore."

"Oh darn," I pout. "I missed the fuzzy sweater phase? Bummer. Y'know, I tried to find you a Pink Power Ranger Beach Towel, to replace the towel I destroyed. But they didn't have any Power Rangers stuff at all. Sorry."

"Quite all right." She says. "I wonder if Buffy found out anything about that demon?"

"Oh, yeah" I say vaguely. I hadn't even thought about it. "I suppose it would be good to know why he was after the SiT's........" It occurs to me, considering what happened in my dream, that I may not technically BE an SiT anymore. Urgh. NO, that's stupid, I may never be the Slayer but..... I don't want to think about it.

"Well, if she hasn't figured it out yet, I'll get on it. We'll be able to find some kind of info on that guy, I'm sure."

"So, are you ready to get back to the training and everything? I mean, if you need to take a break --"

"Why would I need to take a break?" I ask. "I'm not injured. You took care of that." I say smiling.

"Well, I guess I wasn't thinking about the training so much as the ..... patrolling." She looks at me expectantly.

"Oh, because of my near-death experience?" I ask. "I think I'll be okay. I mean, as long as I never, ever at any time in my entire life smell that godawful stink again. That might give me the wiggins."

"Hey! Do you know any anti-stink spells? Something simple, that you could maybe teach me?"

"You want to learn magic?!" she asks, not believing for a second that I am serious.

I see a park bench just a little ways ahead of us and run over to sit on it. But I motion to Willow to stay put. I sit lotus style on the bench, close my eyes and chant just loud enough for Willow to hear me:

She's laughing at me. But she ain't moving. I take a deep breath, shut my eyes tightly and use all my powers of concentration. I say with great force and seriousness:

"Hey. That's not nice." I grouse. "I been working hard on those spells! Oh! What if I tried them in *Latin*?" I ask.

"Mmmmmm. That's good to know." A very intense, warm sensation fills my chest and my throat gets dry. I can feel my pulse quicken and my ears burn. Willow is smiling at me. I know I must be blushing. And I have no idea why. That wasn't exactly the most passionate kiss we've ever shared. It was by all accounts, rather tame. But still, somehow I'm seriously worked up......

"Kennedy" she says, taking my hand. "Thanks -- I've really had fun today and, well, it's been-- well, ..... um, just thanks."

"Willow, . . . . I could make you happy if you let me." She tenses up as soon as I get the words out. But I don't release her hand. I hold on. "What? Don't you want to be happy?"

"Okay, good, I don't want you to hurt me either. But, what do you *want*?" I ask again.

Silence. Willow stares at the grass and I can see the sadness fill her eyes. She presses her lips together. I think she's trying not to cry.

"I killed a man! I tried to kill my friends and destroy the world. I don't even deserve--" The pain of it all comes rushing out of her. I cut her off before she loses control.

"Okay. But, Willow," I say gently. "You're here. You're still here and the world's still here. I know you need to *atone*, I get that." I have to stop to think how to say this right. I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Don't you think that, if your sin or crime or whatever, was that you hated the world so much that you tried to destroy it-- shouldn't your penance be, like -- trying to make the world better?"

"I guess" she says. But I don't think she understands what I'm trying to get at.

"Do you really think an unhappy, bitter, joyless Willow can make the world better?"

"I don't deserve to be happy, or to be loved after what I've done!" she says forcefully.

"But you are loved. It doesn't matter how much you try to deny it Willow. You are loved. There's nothing in your past, or in your future, that can ever destroy it either. You can't kill what never dies."

She pulls her hands away from mine and we sit quietly for a moment. I have to say, I'm pretty surprised by the fact that she's not bawling her eyes out or freaking out, or both. It slowly dawns on me that this is what my dream was about. This is what they were all telling me I needed to do. This is what I was so afraid of doing. I look over at Willow. She's kind of in a daze. I take her hand again and say:

"It's going to be okay." And I believe that. I know it's true. I don't know how I know it's true, but somehow I do. It will all be okay. "You probably need some time alone to think. So . . . I'll see you back at the house?" Willow nods her head. I grab my bag of Goodwill goodies and start walking.

As I climb up the steps of 1630 Revello Drive, Anya and Dawn come flying out the door.

"Nope." I say as I head inside. Guess I'll find out what, if anything, they were able to uncover about our Stinky Demon Guy.

It's 11:45pm and Willow's not back yet. When it got to be supper time and Willow hadn't returned, I decided I should tell Buffy what was going on. Well, I sort of told her, minus all the details... Buffy said she'd find her and let me know if Willow *wasn't* okay. So.....I haven't heard anything so that must mean Willow's okay.... I was so sure it was all going to be okay.... Damn it, I hope I haven't f--

The door opens. It's Willow! Thank you God! I resist the urge to roll over, jump out of bed and leap into her arms. Seven different groans and generally pissed off noises rise up from the floor where several SiT's are camped out.

"Sorry" whispers Willow as she gently tiptoes over them. She climbs gently into bed and touches my arm. I turn to look at her. She smiles at me and lays her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her and smile back.

It's been a hectic morning. Willow and I haven't had any time alone to talk. I've been fielding Rona's questions about how I managed to heal so quickly. I lie and tell her it must be connected to being a Potential. Willow gives me a look. I slept like a log last night. I'm still kind of foggy. I pour myself a bowl of cereal and try to keep up with the conversation but I can't work up much enthusiasm for it. Willow's making herself a cup of tea, Andrew's being annoying with his video camera and Buffy's about to go into lecture mode.

While Buffy drones on about the battles to come I find myself absent mindedly watching Willow watch Buffy. Then it hits me. I get up and walk over to her. I run my finger up and down the sleeve of the shirt I bought her. She's wearing it! Guess she likes it alright. It does look cute on her. Everything looks cute on Willow. She smiles at me. Okay, we got to get some alone time, get on with it Buffy!

Amanda asks a question, god bless her, and it breaks Buffy's momentum. A chance to escape! I grab Willow's hand and lead her into the living room.

Willow shakes her head 'no'. She leans in and kisses me ever so gently. "So, we're good?" I ask. She nods 'yes' and kisses me again.

"Willow--" I say, between kisses, "Willow -- *kIsS* -- next time you want to -- *KiSs* -- suck the life-force out of me -- *kiSS* -- this would be my -- *kIsS* -- preferred method. -- *KiSs*"

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A Week in the Life

By Ondine

ondine44@yahoo.com