Dianna Wears Red: Primus

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All this belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy (Grrr...Argh).
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Feedback: Thank you.
Spoilers: Season 4.
Pairing: Willow/Buffy

Can't see you now, but I know you're there. Looking for your food, thinking you're the hunter. Thinking there's a pretty little something out there for you to take. You don't know it yet, but it's the other way 'round. There's a pretty little something out here alright. I'm looking for you though.

The rough bark of the tree branch digs into the soles of my feet. I push off the limb I'm reclining against, feeling the wind. Feeling, touching, tasting the wind all over me.

I know you're out there little thing. I know you're out there all I need is one…

Jump; don't land on the ground. Mausoleum roof works just as well, jump, land on the next. Why run when you can fly?

Leap, spin, grab the low branch, flip…rebound off the head stone. Wind's sliding over me, stars at my back. Can you hear me? Can you hear me coming little thing? You're quiet, careful. I can tell, you don't smell like a fledgling. You've got experience; you've been doing this a while. Won't help you, nothing will help you. I'm coming for you, can you hear me?

She is lovely. Look at her. The long black hair tied into a French braid that dips down to the small of her back. The dark blue jeans, so deep they are darker than the rest of the night. The back of her neck, pale, glowing under the light of a streetlamp. You must be so hungry little thing. Drooling maybe?

See how the tip of her braid bobs and jumps every time she skips to the music in her head? I can hear her humming; she's dancing to a song inside. You want to stop that song don't you? Take all that rich sweet life and just drink it down. Slurp, slurp yum, yum.

I see you. I see you crouched down behind those bushes. I hear your knuckles crack as you flex your fingers in anticipation, I hear the grass whisper when you shift your weight forward. I can hear your breath rasping between your canines.

Silly vamp, have you gotten so excited that you've forgotten you don't need to breathe?

But you're blind, deaf and dumb little thing. I'm right over your head and you don't know it. Crouching on this branch looking down on you. Can't you hear me? Huh? Don't you know that I'm right over your head? No. No, you don't.

Here she comes, she's about to walk right by where you're hiding. Are you going to jump out in front of her? Scare her? Listen to her scream and try to run before grabbing her? Or will you just slip up behind her after she's walked past and take her from behind. Not giving her time to even gasp in surprise before you make the kill? What will you do little vampire? Hm? What will you do?

"Slayer," You speak through fang and spit. Your wasted drool splatters to the earth.

You are fast, and strong. I can't beat you down, you'll get back up, but I can break you.

I intercept your leg when you try to kick at my head. Stepping into the blow and absorbing the impact on my shoulder, trapping the limb between my side and grabbing it with my arm. I bring my forearm down across the cap of your knee and now it's broken. Tighten my grip raise my other forearm and smash the inside of your thigh with the ball of my palm, pulping the muscles between your bones and my fist. Stepping forward I adjust my grip so my arm is wrapped around your upper leg. You try to claw at me but I slap your blows aside with my free arm. Bringing up my leg I slam my foot into the back of your supporting leg crushing the other knee onto the earth.

You scramble on the ground now? Are you whining? Where's your feral defiance now?

She's staring at me, eyes wide, fear glistening inside. My tongue flickers out to taste the air. It's just a split second but she sees. More fear. Yum.

I smile again. The words are unfamiliar to me but I manage a horse growl. "Hungry"

The girl gives a little shriek and turns to run, my legs bend in anticipation of the leap.

Can see you now. Bundled under the covers, watch the slow rise and fall of your breaths. Hear the warm air easy between your lips, smell the natural perfume of your body. Think you're safe, warm and safe in your bed. You're not. You're not safe in your bed, behind your door, you're not. I'm here now though. You're safe now because I'm here. In the room; With you though you don't know it yet.

The carpeting is soft between my toes as I step silently across the room. I move around the pile of books in the middle of the floor, I know they're there. I can see them, you couldn't but I can. Ease around the chair between you and me.

I crouch down next to where you sleep and watch you. It's so dark but I can still see. Your lashes flutter after a time, underneath the pale lids I see your eyes rolling. You wet your lips with your tongue and smack them quietly a few times. I hear your quiet murmurs and sighs when you roll over in your sleep. Now on your side your face is half lit from the glow outside, I stare at your closed eyes imagining, picturing the green.

I touch you between the eyes with the tip of my finger and ease a soft caress down, along the rise of your nose, up to its tip and then over the cupids bow, tickling your lips gently. You hiss in irritation and your tongue flickers out again to sweep away the annoyance. Its wet heat brushes my finger and a fire roars down my spine.

You don't want to wake up do you. You want to stay asleep, wrapped in warm fluffy dreams and the false safety of blankets. You don't want to acknowledge my hand brushing through your red hair. You want to rest, and to sleep and to dream of simple things like tests and lives long past and best friends. Maybe even flying ponies.

You swallow. My eyes lock on to the convulsions of your throat and are drawn to the crux where your shoulder meets your neck. I can see the flutter of blood underneath skin and muscle. My-my teeth ache. I want….

I ease my hand under the warm blanket and trace my nails along warmer skin. You purr, still asleep. I touch your ribs and rub my hand over your belly.

Your eyes are fully open now and they glow in the dim light. They are so bright, I don't want to look away but…I…don't…deserve this…so much love there. There's so much love and humanity in your eyes. Close your eyes Willow, please close your eyes.

"Buffy?" You ask, sitting up straighter. "Are you okay? Did something happen on patrol? Where are your clothes?"

"I…Willow…that is.," My hand caressing your belly is stopped when you rest your own hand atop my own. "Clothes? Oh…I just took a shower…and…Willow," I look away from you. You're so bright. So…complete.

I know you're reaching out to me, I feel the movement of the air being pushed aside as your arm stretches across the space between us, your hand cups my chin and turns my face to look back at you.

"What's wrong?" You ask me. You want to fix it don't you, how can you? You're full, I'm not. You're whole, I'm…

"Can…can I be with you?" I ask. I try not to whine, I try not to sound pathetic, there's an angry roaring inside my blood at the sound of my weakness. "Please?"

I feel your smile before I see it and when I do it takes so much not to cry in fear and relief. You hold open your arms and I fall into them. So much peace is flooding through me I almost don't hear you say quietly. "Always."

I'm not hungry anymore. I'm in the arms of someone who loves me. She is safe now, not 'cause I'm here but she's safe and because she's safe I'm safe. I'm safe with her…curled up against her body; her arms holding me close as I lay with my head resting on her shoulder. I can feel the flutter of her throat under my cheek, hear the deep thrumming.

No, it's okay. It's okay. She's not prey. She's not meat either. She's…safe. She's safe.

I glance around and notice Buffy curled up beside me. Well, not quite beside me she's also got most of my blanket wrapped around her. All I can see is her hair (Which is sticking up in weird directions) and her bare feet poking out the bottom of the blanket.

She snorts a few times, pulls her arm out from the blanket and rubs her nose a few times. Then the hand disappears back inside the blanket and she curls into an even tighter ball.

Okay…fine. Suns up anyway and I expect the alarm clock is going to go off any second now and I'm going to go and just let it drone on and on. Make her shut it off, that'll teach the blanket hog. Ha! There it goes, and…

That was pretty fast, didn't even see her arm move just…one second an annoying, buzzing alarm clock and now a silent pile of plastic. I..I think I'll go take a shower. Yeah. Shower. Probably the wisest course of action. Let her get a few minutes of sleep, she's…she's probably tired. Gotta give a little leniency to…y'know…the Slayer an' everything after all.

Ah…warm hot water. Chase those chills away…so very much better. Now let me think…think…I'm missing something…something important. What is it I'm forgetting? Aha…yes…gotta shave. It's Friday, that means tonight is 'date night'. Wanna look my best. Okay so date night consists of mainly pizza and rentals but considering I'm watching movies with my girlfriend an' all that I gotta look my best. Cause…I wanna be real inviting like so uh if there's a scary part in the movie and I should, maybe, jump in her arms and the lights just happen to be off.…

Whoa. Stop drooling Rosenberg, gonna get as bad as Xander. Gotta keep my mind on the present.

Let's see if Buffy has woken up yet. I crack the door to our room open slowly and peek inside. Nope, she's still wrapped up tight. Okay, this calls for desperate measures and if this fails I'll resort to cruel measures. Like cold water. Against my will I my gaze is dragged to the wreckage of the alarm clock. On second thought….

I tiptoe across the room, putting my towel on the cabinet, and lean over Buffy's slumbering form. Okay, now how does she sound uh maybe this. "Ms Summers! This is the third time you've fallen asleep in my class. I'll need to speak to you afterwards,"

Instead of her bolting upright in a panic one of Buffy's eyes open a crack and she peers at me balefully. "You sound nothing like Dr. Walsh, Willow."

Her open eye slowly closes and I'm worried she's gone to back to sleep. She has a class in half an hour and I really don't wanna risk winding up like the alarm clock. After a few moments she says, "Bagels are good true, but I can think of something better,"

"Uh really? For breakfast? Cause I love warm, fresh bagels with all sorts of gooey creams and maybe…ohh…maybe cheeses too!"

"No. This is definitely better," Buffy the lump mutters from under her trappings.

There is a silent, colorful, explosion of action as Buffy flings off the blanket and the next thing I know I'm airborne. A split second later I land on the bed and Buffy's atop of me her hands gently pressing into my shoulders. She buries her face in my neck and traces a series of short sharp kisses and tender bites along my jaw line.

Her hands slide down the lapels of my bathrobe and gently begin to tug. She's mumbling into my neck, like a giant cat purrs, I can feel the rumble of her growl in my bones. Ah…oh…jeeze. This…this is better than…mm…Phooey on bagels…and…

A cold wind blows through the open window across my still damp skin. The resulting chill crashes across my brain and cognizance is close behind.

She continues her affectionate actions, now her hands are trying to work at the knot at my waist. Her lips have abandoned my neckline and now she nips nibbles, bites and kisses her way down my arm until she reaches where she wants to be. Last weekend Buffy and I got henna tattoos, the looping, swirling ones with super ornate designs. I think they're kinda neat but Buffy absolutely adores them.

The tip of her tongue follows the patters of my tattoo around, and around, tracing and retracing all the circles on my skin, over and over again…and I'm so very tempted to just lay back and…and…

Her growl now has a plaintive sound to it. Like a whine. She doesn't stop nipping at me though.

I put my hands on her shoulders and push slowly but firmly; she yields reluctantly even though she could out-muscle me easily. She pulls away from me, still gloriously naked and the whole appeal factor is trebled by the adorable pout she's wearing. Eyes downcast lower lip sticking out just a bit.

Weeell…I mean…what could it hurt to…no. No, no, no. Gotta take a firm stance. Be mature, responsible, blah blah blah schmacity schmacity.

"Quoting 'Dead Poets Society' won't help you this time Slayer," I growl back at her. "I can't be sure of the time cause…" again I glance at the slain alarm clock. "Hold on a sec'."

I clamber off the bed and wake up my laptop. I get a look at the time. "Holy cow! Buffy we gotta go. Diem is about to run right over us!"

"Uh yes. Y'know the whole higher education thing. Kinda generally thought of, by the world at large, as a good idea," I turn to her.

"Oh all right. But you owe me," Buffy concedes. She clambers off the bed, slips on an extra long T-shirt and grabs her towel. "I'll be right back."

A few minutes later Buffy's back, shaking water from her long hair. The t-shirt is clinging to her skin in all the right and wrong places. Right because…yummy! Wrong because of the timing. Temptation rears its, in no way, ugly head. I mentally stand fast, beating temptation down with a brick.

"Fine, fine," I turn away and grab my book bags. "I got a class in five. See you at lunch?"

"Same bat time, same bat channel," She comments over her shoulder as she bends over the own clothes drawer. Down temptation, down! Bad dog, sit…stay. Play dead.

"Sorry about the carpe diem," Buffy mumbles as I head for the door. "In the long run you're probably right."

"I don't care about the timing just so long as some Carpe Willow is in the near future."

Being here. Sitting here. Listening to this. Boring. Boring, boring, dull, boring and even more boring.

I could be out there. I should be out there. Or with her, I could be out there or with her…or even have her out there. Show her and…no. No. Can't do that. She…she can't know. Not yet, not ever. Have to…have to do this alone. I love her, trust her, know she would never hurt me but…

No Professor you can't , because you are now taking up Willow Time. Time that could be spent with Willow. This is generally a bad thing and I would recommend highly that you get to know my priorities. You and your lessons are classified somewhere below 'Watching paint dry.'

He is busy packing his briefcase with papers and is not even bothering to look me in the eyes. "Ms Summers, I have, as of late, noticed a certain lack on interest in my course material. You come to class distracted and seem to hardly be in the same room, much less the same time zone, as the rest of my students. Your work has also taken a noticeable downturn. Is everything all right?"

"What?" I ask. "You mean has my life suffered any serious shake ups or something?"

He stops and tries to glare. "Students should spend less time partying and more time at their studies," He interrupts me. He's winding up for a full-blown lecture I can tell. Fine, you interrupt me I interrupt you.

"Actually I was working," I cut him off. I straighten my back a little, widen my stance.

"Yep," I nod. "Like you wouldn't believe. It's a security thing. Keeping people safe in their beds y'know the drill," I try a friendly half smile.

"Well, Ms Summers," the professor speaks ignoring my expression. He stuffs the last few papers in his briefcase. "You might want to request that your employers either cut down on your hours or give you a raise."

"Huh?" I raise my eyebrow. His voice, his tone. I can smell the hostility dripping off him. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

With a snap he slams his briefcase shut. "At this rate you'll flunk out of the college and need all the money you can get. Good day Ms Summers, see you bright and early Monday." He spins on his foot, briefcase in hand and is out the door.

The growl builds in my throat, the muscles in my leg start to tremble and clench. The skin on my hands begins to itch, my fingers claw at the material of my book bag; I feel it tear and give under the pressure.

You…you…pathetic, boring…dull…half-witted…if you knew. If you only knew.

Ugh, what a morning. I'm supposed to be a genius…or so I've been told but this was…headache. I mean head ache. Every single part of my head hurts.

Let's not even think about how my brain feels. I've learned that the brain itself has no actual nerves but right now I believe I have sufficient evidence to throw that medical fact out the window.

Eyes? Dry and tired from hours of squinting at a board that is too far aw- Oh there's Buffy.

Birds are singing, big puffy clouds bounce across the sky, grass is freshly mowed and bright green, Buffy's walking toward me with the tight features and the brisk step of someone really pissed off and..

"Hi Buffy!" I say cheerfully trying a bright smile to break past whatever has got her in a bad mood. "What a surprise running into you here..," Nice one Rosenberg. "Er…despite the fact that we arranged to meet here and all. I bought lunch. See?"

Now I'm confused. I share this feeling by scratching the back of my head. "Okay," I say slowly. "What…for exactly?"

"Well," Buffy glances around us. The quad is pretty full. Lots of people are having lunch, probably cause it being twelve o'clock and all, so there's…um…people. Talking, laughing, studying; boys with girls, girls with boys. Y'know the regular. "Y'know that little rule we have?"

"The…uh," she stammers a bit and fidgets with her hands in her lap. "The one with…about…you…me…outside?"

Oh. OH! Sure. "Sure, the PDA rule. Yeah sure, gotta tone down the affection demonstration and all that. What about it?" I ask. I hope this doesn't take too much longer. I love Buffy to death and beyond (We actually have proof.) and I'd listen to her troubles no matter what but I am getting kinda hungry.

For the second time today Buffy moves and I miss it even though I was looking right at her. She was sitting a foot or so from me now she's right beside me, hands on either side of my face kissing me fiercely. The sensation is- All the sensations are just too much. The warm sun, the noise of the crowd, Buffy's fingers running through my hair, her lips on mine. There is not a thought of protest in my body. None.

Sounds fade away, the glare of the sun through my closed eyes, the smell of flash fried fatty meats and glistening French fries, the crick in my back from being hunched over various desks for hours and hours.

Anxiety about having to spend hours studying in the library, even the normally always presents tension from my knowing about the Hellmouth and assorted badness, all of it.. gone.

The kiss ends, she pulls away slowly and I open my eyes to see her looking back at me. Where moments ago her blue eyes were stormy and fierce they shine brightly now. Full of life and energy. Yep that's me, Willow, the SuperSlayerRecharge-O-Matic!

My senses kick in slowly and I smile to return the, dazzling one actually, Buffy is beaming at me. "Wow," she murmurs.

I put a finger to my chin; "I'm not surprised to find that I was in need of that."

Something's wrong, hmm…buzzy brain…brain all fogged from Buffy kiss. What are you trying to tell me baffled brain o'mine?

The sun is shining, birds are singing, I've got a beautiful girlfriend who's sitting right next to, wearing an inane grin that I'd bet mine looks just like mine and all around us people are…not saying anything.

Like a splash of cold water, like the chill wind this morning whatever buzz I was feeling dissipates. I turn my head slowly; Buffy too shakes off her fog and notices where I'm staring. I'm staring at everybody who's staring at us. Oh God. Oh no. Oh God.

Some people are just hanging there with their mouths open, more than a few boys are grinning, some are sorta…I guess…supportive looking though most appear to be lewd. I see one boy looking disgusted, as is the girl beside him. Other girls are looking at us the same way teens stare at their posters of teen idols. Most people just stare. A few whistles begin then a smattering of applause and before I know it the entire assembly in the quad is shouting, cheering, whooping and clapping. Behind this mass though I see some people walking quickly away.

My face burns and I glance at Buffy, she…isn't embarrassed. She's reclining against the bench with a small, cocky, smirk on her face. Staring right back, openly, like a challenge, at the entire crowd. With her eyes still locked on the crowd she reaches out blindly, grabs my hand and presses it to her lips.

"Go? But…lunch…food. Hungry!" I feel like a passenger on a particularly loopy ride. Buffy dashes away from the quad pulling me after her, but I'm having a hard time matching her pace naturally enough. Without breaking stride Buffy yanks me into the air (how'd she do that without pulling my shoulder outta my socket?) and I land gently as a leaf in her arms. She giggles into my ear as I wrap my arms around her neck quickly. I've…this must be an odd site, or it would be if we were visible but we're not. Buffy keeps to the trees, using back trails and the underbrush to hide behind. She laughs the entire way and I can't help but join in. It's all just so crazy. One minute I'm moaning about classes to myself; the next at least fifty people see Buffy and I kiss (did we ever) and now Buffy is laughing a little crazy, carrying me in her arms darting around trees, ducking under branches and otherwise hurtling across the campus at breakneck speeds.

We reach our room in record time. Th-the buzz is back. I know what's going to happen, I know what she wants and I want it too. I want her too. Buffy barely has time to kick the door shut before I grab her head in my hands, lean up and resume the kiss we left off in the quad. She moves across the room, I think 'cause I have my eyes closed that or she flew, either way I don't notice how just when she sets me down on the bed. Without pause she lays herself next to me. I open my eyes slowly and, sure enough, she's staring at me with those bright, still shiny, blue eyes.

I stand before the open window breathing in the cooling air, feeling the coming night. It drifts over me, caresses me, invites me.

They're out there; my prey. Going about their own feeding grounds trying to take the cattle. The cattle I am bound to protect.

They're not important though; I'll do my job well enough. My world a simple one.

I want to feel the earth between my toes, the night parting before me, the weight of my prey and taste of their ash in my mouth.

They're going about their hunting now, looking for cattle to feed off of. I feel my lips curl at the thought. They also seek me; some out of a suicidal quest for glory, others out of fear, who am I to keep them waiting?

I pause, give one last glance to the tousle haired redhead safely wrapped around her pillow. I touch her cheek with my fingers and let them linger for a moment, savoring her heat. I yield to one further temptation and bury my face in her hair inhaling deeply.

Then, pulling up the covers to protect her from any chills and with her scent in my mind, I hurtle out the window.

Disclaimer: All this belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Inc. (Grrr……Arrgh)

"Mmm…Buffy that was…," I slide my hand across the bed expecting it to find warm skin and soft blonde hair. Instead my caress is spent on the cold pillowcase where my Slayer should be peacefully slumbering. I sit up. "Buffy?"

A cool breeze blows gently across the room from the open window beside the bed where Buffy used to sleep. I can make out the most of the room 'cause of the moonlight slanting through the blinds and among the rumbled shapes of tossed blankets, discarded clothing I noticeably miss any curved, pale, skinny Summers.

"Now where did she go?" I grumble to myself. Reluctantly I swing my feet over the edge of the bed. My skin voices its protests and being dragged from warm bedding by going incredibly goosepimply as the cooler night air make contact.

Grumbling I stumble to the window. "Sheesh, leave it to an open window to ruin a perfectly good afterglow," I mutter.

Deliberately ignoring the glowing red display of the time on our new alarm clock, I find it works better if I remain oblivious of lateness, I grab a towel and the shampoo.

"Maybe Buffy went to take a shower," I catch a wiff of myself. "Mmm…possibly. I'm not too keen on ed du cathouse."

I hope she went to take a shower, cause I'm not sure I like it when I wake up with my lover absent.

Heh, that made my skin tingle. Lover, Buffy, lover, Buffy, lover. Wow, tingle city. But…but where is she?

As I reach for my bathrobe, hanging in the closet, I see Buffy's still on its hanger right beside my own.

"Okay," I mutter slipping into my robe. "So, unless Buffy decided to go streaking she's not in the showers. Patrol?"

I roll that thought around in my head. It's possible, and she has slipped out after I've fallen asleep before but her clothes are still here, tangled among my own like I imagined we'd still be when I woke up.

Still, usually when she decides to dash off on a patrol she wakes me. True, I don't really totally wake up all the time but I do remember it the next day. Now, now I remember nothing like that. We fell asleep together and then…poof she's gone. She has been kinda distracted a bit too. Or maybe I'm seeing too much into this. Yeah, yeah that's it. She just didn't want to wake me after that…after that glorious…wow…I mean. Still, she should have woken me.

I shrug, after all she probably slipped into some 'patrol' clothes. Yeah, she looks great in her leather jacket and jeans but, as she's said many times, it's easier to kick a vamps face in wearing sweatpants.

I got some studying to do anyway, after skipping afternoon classes I better catch up. I'll wait for her after I take my shower.

Crouching under a tree that marks one of the edges of the campus I wave the private over motioning for the rest of the squad to halt. Just past the tree line I can make out the beginning of one of the many cemeteries dotting across Sunnydale. Prime spots for acquiring subjects for the lab coats back at the HQ.

He crouches down next to me and pulls out his motion detector. "Movement sir, about a hundred meters to the south,"

"Why is that interesting private? This is a town after all, people moving about, small woodland creature and so on," I've giving him a hard time, I know perfectly well the scanners are programmed to ignore targets below a certain mass. I'm doing this so he learns to be more precise with his reports, there is no time for wasted speech in the field.

"Heat signature sir. Whatever is moving out there doesn't have one. It's the same temperature as its surroundings."

He rattles of a long string of positional data. Translated it means 'that-a-way'.

I stand up. "Okay men," I turn to the rest of the patrol. "Science division just asked for us to acquire a vampire for some new tests. So this op is a bag n' capture, not a take down. That means this will be a little trickier." I point to the two most experienced men in the squad. "Parker, you're with me at point," I glance at Forrest. "Forrest, you bring up the rear, make sure nobody gets lost." I see Forrest roll his eyes, he hates babysitting. "Get those tazers amped people," I order standing up. "Everyone follow Evans."

"Report!" I snap at him again. This guy is going to get us all killed. If he doesn't learn to not react to the unexpected we're in trouble. He should know by now to not react to the unexpected but simply to report it.

"The target sir, it's vanished!" He exclaims scrambling to his feet. What did he see on the scanner of his?

"What?" I peer over his shoulder at the readout on his scanner. "What happened?"

"Be sure soldier!" Behind me Parker and Forrest begin to shift their weight while Travis starts glancing at the dark trees around us. The private's case of nerves is beginning to infect the others. Not good.

"Something…that is…." He says, his voice trembling. He swallows and starts over his voice rock steady this time. "Sir, scanners registered a new target approaching the suspected vampire at incredible speeds, they met for a split second and the suspected vampire's signal was lost. Whatever it is sir, it took that vampire out in under a second. Before I could get any further data the new target was off my scope. The only thing I managed to get was the secondary target's speed and temperature,"

"Sir, secondary target was moving at a ground speed of just under forty miles per hour with a temperature of one hundred and five degrees sir. Whatever it is, its running hot," He punches a few more buttons on the display. "Verified sir. One hundred and five."

"Negative sir. Mass sensors put the secondary target at around that of a normal human. Probably around one hundred pounds," He turns slowly in place. "Annndd…,"

"Sir. Targets course is north, from where we came. Sir whatever it is it's heading for the campus."

The private fiddles with a few more dials. "Affirmative sir. Its got a pheromone signature a mile wide,"

I nod and turn to the rest of the patrol. "Change of orders gentlemen. We got something new. Capabilities are unknown, threat level is unknown. Primary objective is capture for study but we'll take it down if we have to. Arm your tazers, no live fire except on my order. Parker, radio this is in and catch up with us at the edge of the campus. Move out!"

Being of the squeaky-clean persuasion I feel much better. Of course being squeaky-clean requires one to have just stepped out of a shower and having just stepped out of a shower means being damp and being damp in the cool air of the hallway, wearing only a bathrobe, means I am forced to also be of the cold persuasion.

C'mon, c'mon I need snugglies! Oh great dropped em' okay, come back here you little metal…finally.

I fling the door open wide and bolt through, "Honey I'm homHUH?!" The words catching in my throat hurt a bit and its with luck I don't dissolve into a coughing fit. My breath catches and I can feel my eyes go really wide. Something falls on my foot, I think its my keys but I'm not sure. I'm too busy to notice.

Her feet shouldn't be muddy, she shouldn't have a few leaves tangled in her hair and she really shouldn't be naked while having muddy feet or perching on the windowsill. But she is perched on the windowsill and her feet are muddy and she is naked. My brain is stuck in a loop.

She sits, perched on the windowsill, her bangs hanging over her forehead low concealing her eyes. Her hands are gripping the edge of the sill stabilizing her while her legs are curled beneath her. I can see the muscles bunched up, tense and ready to push her off. Where though I don't know; into the room or out into the night?

I don't think, okay I mean I do think; lots actually but I don't think she expected me to be awake. Is she going to run? Was this what she was hiding…what exactly is she hiding? A streaking fetish? Kinky yes, if true but not totally put offish. I think, I mean I'll have to think about it a bit, get used to the idea I suppose but I do love her and….oh God she might be getting ready to run. Have to say something, something uh…caring. Yeah. Okay. I can do that. I care about her after all.

"Buffy? Is…what are…what are you doing?" It takes a few seconds but I manage to hammer out a sentence. "Where have you been? What's going on?"

Her head tilts up and in the dim light I can make out her eyes. She sees me and…so…she can see me and I see her recognize me, she's smiling; its a warm smile. Like the kind she gave me a few hours ago, looking down on me as I lay underneath her. She was stroking my face with her hand, the same place over and over from my left temple down the side of my face to my chin. Just the tips of her fingertips really touched me and it was so light that even though she did it over and over it never got irritating. She smiled at me when she was doing this, just like she's doing now, and in that smile I felt warm and….loved. She was telling me with out words that she loved me and she'd be with me and, somehow I knew this but I don't know how I knew, she was telling me she'd be patient with me. That she'd never grow frustrated or bored or upset.

Now she's sitting on our windowsill, without any clothing on, the mud from outside dripping from between her toes to fall on the dresser and she's smiling at me. And that smile is telling me the same thing.

Instinct prompts me and I know. She's not wild, not an animal but she is. I think, she just wants to know how I feel and she wants to know that everything is okay. I think. She hasn't said anything, only acted and she's waiting for me to act to, to respond in kind to her. There's only one thing I can do, want to do. I kneel down slowly and hold my arms open and smile back at her. "Come here," I whisper. "Come to me."

Buffy gives a quiet mew of joy and leaps into the room. Only she could send herself screaming through the air yet curl into my arms without knocking me over. She rests her head on my lap and wraps her arms around my waist. I don't feel nervous or hesitant, I have no doubt or fear. Just…patient. I begin to pick the various leaves out of her hair and other stuff. There's a little mud mingled in but I pick that out too. Buffy sighs softly, I guess she enjoys being fussed over. I certainly enjoy doing the fussing.

She rolls onto her back and eyes me warily. "Yeah Will, did that whole 'learning to speak' when I was two. Or it could have been three. I always was a slow starter."

I grin sheepishly and shrug. "I…uh…meant that, well, with you looking so…er."

"Yeah primal, I thought maybe neanderBuffy had decided to make an encore," I pause. "It's not that is it."

Its not a question. Something has happened to Buffy, there's been a change in the elements, an addition. I look at her carefully and, yeah, something has been added. I can…uhm…feel it.

"Yes," she whispers back to me. Buffy doesn't look away, or glance elsewhere when she says it. She looks at me steadily. Looking for my reaction I think. Maybe she's afraid of whatever is going on, but she's not running away from it either.

"You knew this happened, you knew something had changed inside and you didn't tell me," I can't help it, feeling a little hurt. I have no right to know every single thing going on in Buffy's head and no wish too but at the same time the idea that she was uh….growing? And didn't tell me, well, that bothers me. Its not like I wouldn't have understood or something. Its not like I would have abandoned her like some people I could mention, but won't, its not polite.

This is a…this is a big thing though, biggity big big if she's…changing somehow. I want to know about these things. The good, the bad, the…the…uhm…light and the dark. I want her to feel free to tell me anything and not have to worry about my reaction.

I want her to be perfectly comfortable of coming right up to me, tapping me on the shoulder and looking me square in the eye and say, 'Willow, I have a streaking fetish.' and I'd look her right back and say, 'That's nice dear, could you let me know where and when? I'd really like to watch sometimes.' See? And everything would be okay.

And if, and if, if she had to come up to tell me something less funny, I mean funny ha-ha, not funny strange, she could. Just walk up to me and say, again with the steady eye contact, 'Willow, I'm changing into something a bit more animalistic.' and I could say…could say…I'm not sure what I'd say to that actually.

I want her to love me and know I lover her unconditionally. That's what I want; good or bad, richer or poorer, in sickness and health and so on and so forth.

Buffy looks away for a moment, and her movement snaps me back to the present. I can tell she's about to back away. I reach out with both hands and gather her close again. "No, no, no naughty slayer. No running away,"

Buffy giggles quietly in my arms. She settles in comfortably, not holding herself away. "Naughty?"

The opportunity for joking ends though, the witticisms have been used and there's no more room for Buffy to maneuver away from my earlier statement. She doesn't look away from me. She reaches up and traces the counters of my face with her fingertips, easing her touch over my eyebrows and down the ridge of my nose, over my lips, I reflexively pucker up to kiss her fingers. Then she reaches back and does it again, and again, and again.

It feels so nice, just….this thing we do. We can do. If it makes her feel better to caress me like this then I can wait, if this makes Buffy feel more secure than I say Go Buffy. Besides, it feels great!

She's still caressing me this way when she finally speaks. Her fingers dancing over me, her head in my lap, my arms cushioning her and in the middle of all this she finally replies.

"Huh?" I'm supposed to be the smart one and I can't understand that statement. I roll it around in my mind for a split second and come up with zero. Smiling a little bit I take her hands in my own, kiss her palms and then say, "You're going to have to clear that up a bit Buffy."

"It's…um…it's like breathing. You breathe in and out right?" she looks at me, seeing if I'm following. I nod, I am…I think.

" Well," she continues. "What if you, for no real reason, just started breathing deeper? Slower? You might not even notice it until someone pointed it out to you. That's me. You caught me doing it," she points at me with both hands. "And now I realize how weird it is but until I saw it as someone else saw it…," Buffy shrugs. "It just felt so…I dunno…normal."

"Normal to run around late night Sunnydale bereft of apparel doing God knows what?" I giggle at the mental image, I don't want her to think I'm accusing her.

Pulling herself out my embrace Buffy stands up and walks to the window, its open again the full weight of the moonlight blasting through.

"Its wonderful Willow; me and the night. It slides over my skin like…," she shakes her head. "Everything is alive, even the night beasts. They add to it, make it spicy. Can you believe that? They've been here for so long that they now have actually found a niche."

She glances at me and sees my disbelieving look. "Oh not that that makes them any less loathsome or slayworthy," Buffy amends.

Her gaze turns back out the window. "It actually helps me, I can feel them, smell them I know where and why they are."

She stands naked in the moonlight. Her skin just drinks it in and there's this glow about her. She doesn't stand out in any way. She should, being naked, looking out the window where any lucky passerby could see her, I'd have to kill them, yet she looks….right. I…she's saying the truth. She has changed somehow, before she invaded the night, patrolling and dusting vamps and beasties. Now she is part of the night. Or maybe, the beasties always were the invaders?

"Where are they?" The words come to me without thinking. My lips are dry, I'm so thirsty.

"Why are they?" Again I don't think the words they are just there. I'm thirsty, thirsty for her.

"Private, you sure it went this way?" We're all huddled in the shadow of the dorm. The full moons lights blocked off by the walls.

"Sir, yes sir. The target came this way but the path just stops at the wall," The private moves around stealthily with his scanner held in front of him, boy should learn not to just depend on his fancy toys.

I scan the earth quickly but the grass is smooth and even. "It didn't dig down. Forrest, hand me the thermocs". My buddy tosses me the thermal imagining binoculars. I take a few steps away from the concealing shadows of the building, in this moonlight if anyone happens to look out the window I'll be spotted for sure. Oh well….

I scan the rooms quickly looking for anything with a temperature, for a change, above normal.

"Better be good private," I don't stop checking the building. Well at least he didn't just say 'Holy cow.,' or 'Wow,' but cut to the chase. Now all we need to do is work on volume control.

"We figured that out already private," I keep checking the rooms, it's a bit tricky, most people are in bed and that means their temperatures are a bit higher, I have to take core temperatures and it takes a few seconds for the thermocs to get a good reading.

I check the room out and immediately dive back into the shadows dragging the private with me.

"We goin' in?" He asks, I can hear his smile behind the mask. Sometimes I worry a little about my good buddy. I don't mind jumping in and bustin' a few heads when it's needed but Forrest always strikes me as a tad….eager.

"Report as follows HQ, unknown possible HST, capabilities unknowns, threat level unknown. Have tracked back to campus. Suspected HST believed to be in a dorm room, repeat inside a dorm room. Requesting permission to intercede. Possible, no, probable civilian casualty imminent. Over."

"HQ acknowledges. Stand by Lilac," A few tense seconds pass as I wait for a response. Somebody could be dying, or dead, or worse turned. Which just would make my job harder.

My men begin to jostle each other; even the green private has put away his electronic toys and is checking over his tazer while muttering to himself.

"HQ online Lilac. Word is go, repeat word is go. Cutting power to dorms in five. Good hunting, over," The radio blares in my ear.

"Acknowledged HQ. Lilac out," I stand up and motion the men to position themselves by the doors. As soon as the power goes we'll go in, locate the HST, isolate it, capture it and be out. Standard bag and grab. Done it a hundred times. Routine.

The private's words from echo in my mind. 'Clocked at nearly forty miles per hour. Vampire down in under a second. Forty miles….under a second…. I tighten my grip around the stock of my tazer. Nothing about this will be routine.

"This is new territory gentlemen," I say. "Total unknown. Forrest, Parker take point, Travis bring up the rear. Evens you're with me." I am not letting you outta my sight greenboy.

"Head for the side entrance, we take the emergency stairs to the second floor, hustle down the hall. Avoid all civilian contact, if you're spotted what do you do?" I demand of the men.

"All those monsters are there for you?" I ask. I can feel the squeak in my voice, but what if she cares more about the monsters more than me? She's so…I dunno…brimming with oneness in the moonlight. I want to be there with her so badly now. She won't leave me behind will she? No, she'd never do that.

"Not really," Buffy says still looking up at the moon. "I just like saying that. Its so rich though baby. Being out there like this, just…slipping past and through and with it. God, its…."

She breaks off and silently stands in front of the window, surrounded by a pool of white light. Her shadow stretching across the floor and over me. I hesitantly get to my feet and walk up behind her. I need to touch her, know that I'm still allowed to touch her. I'm going to embrace her but its me who wants the move comfort from it.

I wrap my arms around her waist linking my fingers; she leans back into my embrace and rests her hands on top of mine.

"They're there for you then," I mumble while kissing her shoulder. Her skin has always been a little pale but in the moonlight its like milk. "What about me then? Why am I here?"

She spins in my arms and kisses me softly. The kiss breaks off before long and she's smiling at me. "Wrong question," Buffy whispers moving her lips to my ear.

Buffy pulls away, out of my embrace and climbs onto the windowsill again, facing into the room, her legs bunched underneath her again. "For you love," she still smiles. "For you."

"Will you," I swallow. "Will you tell me about it then? Share it with me so I can know what its like and be there, in a small way, with you?"

She glances over her shoulder through the window before turning back to me with a look of longing; she holds out her hands. "I can't tell you what it's like Willow. I just don't have the words," Her look becomes one of pleading. "I can't tell you but if you come with me I can show you."

"In here?" I ask the private. Parker and Forrest are on either side of the door, I'm across from it with the private beside me. I think his name is Evens. The rest of the men are behind Parker and Forrest.

"Yes sir. Target confirmed, looks like whatever it is trying to lure the occupant of this room out the window,"

"Standard policy," I reply. "They could have been compromised so we gotta knock em' out and take em' in for testing. Restrained force though got me?"

I reach out to grasp Buffy's hands, to let her take me where she wants so she can show me. My heart is singing. She's not going to just tell me about it, she's going to show me! Show me! She's going to show me how she's….uh….night Buffy? Ugh, sounds like a Bat-Man rip off.

We're going to run, I know that and when I can't keep up she'll carry me and I'll be there all the way, and all the time and oh yes, yes yes yes!!

Right before I can take her hands in mine, I can almost feel the warm, strength of her palms gripping my hands, Buffy's eyes flicker over my shoulder and she vanishes.

"Buffy where did-?" I begin then in rapid sequence I hear the slight whispering of movement over my head and the splintering of the door frame behind me. When whoever, whatever, they are burst into the room Buffy is standing there waiting for them.

Before the first one can bring his…his…ray gun? To bear Buffy lashes out with her left and sends him spinning; before he can fall though her arm blurs and reverses direction so her elbow crashes into his head. He spins slowly in place and slumps over.

Its been less than a second since Buffy leaped from the windowsill over my head.

The other things silhouetted in the door seem stunned by the fact that one of their number has already fallen.

I finally get a good look at the intruders. They're all wearing camouflage pants, vests, and some sort of masks with…hey I recognize those, night vision goggles!

Throwing off their stupor the remaining…soldiers…rush Buffy. One of them points his ray gun at her and I give a short scream as a bolt of lightning seems to arch across the room. He misses Buffy by the proverbial mile but it still scared the hell out of me.

About five of these people have pushed through the door way now and they're all rushing Buffy. One of them tries to swing his gun at her head like a club while another goes for a leg sweep. She jumps over the one with the gun and give his arm a gently push on her way over his head. His swing misses her but connects with his buddy's leg. There's another wicked cracking sound and the soldier who got hit falls to the ground screaming and cradling his injured limb.

That leaves four standing, the one who just bashed in his friends leg, and three more near the ruined door of our room. Buffy lands lightly on all floors. Her long hair hangs over her face so she's staring at the intruders through her tangled locks. Is she…laughing?

She's laughing! This light, quiet giggle. Armed soldiers who look like some rejects from Ghostbusters have just busted in our room, she's taken out two of them and she's laughing!

The leader, cause he gives a few orders, waves the other two near the doorway, they begin to ease around Buffy who doesn't move. She just keeps laughing this eerie quiet laugh. As the soldiers flank her she occasionally glances at the ones to her left and right but for the most part keeps her eyes locked on the one in the doorway, the soldier who I, and I guess she too, has identified as the leader.

"Fry it," The words are said dry and quietly; the tone of someone who is used to giving commands and expects them to be obeyed without hesitation.

The instance the last syllable is out of his mouth the other soldiers bring their weapons up.

Everything has happened so fast. I guess it's been maybe ten seconds since Buffy was perched on the windowsill. Ten seconds since she was asking, no begging, me to go out with her too see…something. It was very important to her and so important to me as well. Now we're under attack by men dressed up like weekend warriors except they're anything but. Yes, they've got guns that look like they're from a cracker-jack box but the two-foot long scorch mark on the wall says they're deadly serious. Now these goons have got Buffy encircled and are going to try and shoot her? To blast her and, um…drag her off…somewhere and…and…do all sorts of her hideous experiments on her? Like something out of X-Files or something?

"Intercept," The one by the door barks. In one brisk stride the soldier has caught up with me and he's reaching out to…grab me…manhandle…beat me down maybe but its too late. I'm where I want to be.

With a triumphant smirk I flip it. I'm expecting the lights to turn on, I'm expecting shouts and curses from the soldiers as their night scopes go blinding in the actually comfortable lighting of our dorm room.

I don't even see his hand move. One second I'm staring at the tip of his gun and then everything is all red and stars and pain.

I think its Buffy screaming. A shrill, shining, climbing, shriek. Then…there are other screams. Sounds a bit lower. Lower pitched like voices not used to going so high on the scream-o-meter. Cracking too. Lots of cracking.

The lights are off, the room is dark except for the bright spots swimming around me. Somebody picks me up.

'There, there. 'I say or want to say. 'There there.' I want to say, 'Its okay, everything is okay.'

I can feel the wind, I can feel the wind and its so cool and soft. I can feel someone's arms holding me and they're so strong and warm and I can feel the stars.

It's dark and I know we're not in the dorm anymore. It's okay though, even if it's so dark its okay because I'm with Buffy. It may be dark but I have the stars and the tears to guide me.

The dark is fading, though. I become more aware; pulling away from sleep I am more aware of a sullen glow pulsing slowly through my eyelids. So it's dark because my eyes are closed. That makes sense I suppose. I better find out where I am. Let's open the eyes and, quite literally, see what we see.

Jesus. That hurt. All I wanted to do was open my eyes and my entire body voiced its protests very loudly. Alright, we'll just lie here a bit and recover our strength. We'll be ready to try again in, oh, maybe three or four weeks.

Military procedure or not I'm just going to float here in my private universe, ignoring the lights outside. Procedure be damned.

I feel a warm hand touch me on the shoulder briefly. "Rest now, Agent Finn. The report can wait."

I open my mouth to reply, as any soldier would to a superior. I want to say 'Yes Ma'am.'

What I hear, before what little light there is begins to fall away, is "Yessh mMMmm."

Can't see anything at all. Just the black before me, and I know it's behind me, all around me. I should be scared but I'm not. If it was just dark I'd be terrified; but it's not just me alone in the dark. She's here, she's holding me close and watching me very carefully. I can't see her but I know it. I know it like I know the sun will be up tomorrow and that all the bad things will be running for cover.

The dark is usually cold and empty but this dark is so warm and full and….and….and stuff. I can't exactly feel the warmth. Just that I'm aware of it. Aware of her, of me, floating comfortably aware but not alarmed in this not scary, not lonely darkness.

Hearing is the first thing to kick in. I can hear the crickets chirping from somewhere. Down I think. Oh and there a soft wind now! I hear branches rustling in that quiet way they do when a simple breeze moves them. And there's a car! I can hear traffic, which is good though at the same time it's kinda bad. Not that I can hear the traffic, means ears are working. Go you ear drums yeah! Course cars mean exhaust and exhaust is pollution and pollution is bad. See? I hope the trees in the breeze will be okay and not get hurt from the pollution.

Oh, oh, yay! Smell is back. Dear, dear sense of smell how we missed you. I can smell…can smell…mmm…fresh air. Fresh cool air and it has all these lovely quiet smells with it. Sweet and…mmm…kinda wet. Like a…like a…uhmm…pollen! Yeah! It's pollen. Oh no! My allergies!

Check that, I don't have allergies. Alright then, pollen is okay with me. Sweet, sweet pollen.

And here is my good friend taste. Not that there is a lot to taste right now. My mouth is kinda sticky though; sorta gummy. Sour, bleah. Still, I have to welcome taste back because without it I'd never be able to enjoy another choco-double-mocha-creamoliscious! A critical part of any college students' diet.

Hearing tells me I'm crying. My own quiet moan echoes in my ears and taste adds to the argument by informing me it's no longer worried about cotton mouth. It's tasting the salt of my tears; all this is blown away by the overwhelming screaming that Touch is doing. My entire head hurts, the left side of my face feels all swollen and hot. That sick, deathly hot of something broken and needing help to fix it.

I grit my teeth and Touch is happy to inform me that that is making the pain worse. I whimper, I don't need hearing to know that now. Everything is working perfectly. All my senses are again a seamless team and I'm aware of everything instantly.

And then they share something better with me. Her arms are around me. Her arm supporting me and with her other hand I can feel her caressing my face, the side that doesn't hurt.

"Buffy?" My throat is sore and I can barely hear myself what with all the ringing going on in my head. I'm not sure I can actually hear it, but I know its there.

"Shhhh," she says again. "Rest. I've got you. You're safe now, I'll watch. Rest."

"It hurts," I whine. A fresh wave of pain rolls against me and I bite down, try not to cry out. My stomach heaves at the effort. "It hurts a lot."

"I know," Buffy murmurs. "I know it does. Try and rest. I've got you, everything will be okay."

I want to ask her how she honestly thinks I can get any sleep with this screaming ache grinding in my head. But, I can't hear her anymore. Then I can't feel the pain, the sound of crickets, traffic and the breeze winks out and I can't taste anything anymore.

Again the darkness fades away and the first thing I notice is the constant thrum of the life support system. Usually you don't hear it. It's always there but after a living here for so long you block it out. I'm not blocking it out now though. My mind latches onto it like a lifeline and uses it to climb out of the dark.

The next thing I hear is the regular beeping of a heart monitor. It's pretty close so my guess is that's it's for me. Finally there's my old friend the glow of the overhead lights.

"Great." I mutter reflexively. I tense up, expecting protest, an ache anything from my body telling me to shut up and not move. Nothing happens.

"Ah, you're awake Agent Finn." Dr. Walsh says. She's still here? What she watched over me or something?

I open my eyes slowly, the dull glow becomes piercing and I blink a few times as my eyes adapt to the glare.

"Easy," Dr. Walsh says. She's standing at the foot of my bed, clipboard in hand studying whatever it is that's clipped to the clipboard. "Take your time."

I slowly sit up and this does cause a few grumbles from my muscles but not anything I can't ignore. That's better. Now what's first, oh yeah, my report.

"Very well Agent," Dr. Walsh replies, setting the clipboard aside and pulling up a chair. "Whenever you're ready."

She leans back, folds her arms across her chest and stares straight at me without blinking. Every time she does this I can't help but feel like something on an operating table. I fight off the urge to squirm uncomfortably. Keeping my eyes firmly focused on a spot just behind her I fill her in on what happened.

"Alpha Squad was on a bag and grab op for a vampire HST per request of the science division," I began.

"Yes, I know," Dr. Walsh interrupts. "I'm fully aware of everything that happened up to the point where you actually confronted the unidentified threat Agent. Please begin there."

"Yes Ma'am," I nod. "Upon entering the room we attempted to encircle the unidentified HST. We never had a chance Ma'am. Whatever it was moved far to fast for us to even begin setting up a containment circle. Within two seconds Agents Corporal Travis and Private Evans were down, Travis having been struck by Private Evans' own rifle when the HST dodged the private's swing. It was so fast Ma'am. I didn't even get a good look at it. That's the last thing I can remember clearly Ma'am. Everything after that is a blur."

"That's it Agent?" Dr. Walsh raises one eyebrow. "One second you're aware of everything in the combat and the next you're not?"

"Ma'am, up to a certain point, I'd guess about ten seconds after we entered the room; the HST was playing with us." I fumble about, my head is hurting and I can't really remember…hold on. "Ma'am the HST seemed to be laughing. If I didn't know better it was enjoying itself."

"Enjoying itself," Dr. Walsh echoes. "Then it suddenly grows, what, bored with you and proceeds to demolish your entire squad?"

"Be sure Agent." Dr. Walsh snaps, leaning forward in her chair. "We can have no assumptions, or guesses in this line of work. Those get people killed. We need facts. You are dangerously low on them."

"Yes Ma'am. Just give me a minute Ma'am." I reply quickly. What happened? It's a good question, I now distinctly remember whatever that thing was laughing at us and then…then…right, then it was screaming. Screaming, more of a full-throated howl. Why was it screaming? I'm sure we didn't get a hit in, so we hadn't hurt it so what set it off?

"Civilian's Jetting!" I remember Forrest shouting. What did I do? Standard procedure I ordered him to intercept. Then…the…a sound, the thing's laughing, Travis's screaming about his leg and one other sound. Two sounds really, someone hitting someone else and the shriek of a…of a…. a woman being struck. Then the HST's howl and after that…nothing, nothing but pain.

Things don't come back one by one like they did earlier. Everything just snaps back; systems online kind of thing.

I can't help but groan again. I roll over, or try to but find myself restrained. Slowly opening my eyes I look up and see Buffy's eyes meeting mine.

I work my jaw slowly, trying to get a feel for what the pain in my face will allow for and what it won't.

I settle for shaking my head slowly. "Not a whole lot," I mutter. "Where are we?"

Buffy glances around quickly, "About thirty feet off the ground in a really big tree."

"What's wrong with trees?" Buffy answers my questions with one of her own. "They're big and strong. The leaves keep out the rain well enough, if it's raining, and tames the wind."

"Topsoil," Buffy says under her breath. "I'm not sure where I heard this but I think that trees are important to topsoil. Though, I can't remember why. You're the supposed to be the smart one; you tell me."

I try and touch my face but Buffy intercepts the move and gently forces my hand back to my side. "Let me."

Her fingers are cool, soothing and very light. My face still feels hot and kinda thick, her touch brings a blessed relief to the constant ache; so much so that I close my eyes for a few seconds just to enjoy the feeling.

"You're awake again?" Buffy asks, I'm still in her arms. Hours must have passed between one eyeblink and the next and she held me the entire time.

I move my tongue along the inside of my mouth, searching for sore spots, trying to anticipate how much actual movement may cause more pain. Other than a dull, steady ache everything seems relatively okay. Alright, my preferable definition of 'Okay' means no pain anywhere but considering how much it hurt a while ago I guess how I feel now can be labeled 'Okay'. Maybe even a 'Well enough'.

"I was considering 'peachy' ," I say quietly. "In that, only because you're holding me and I'm right here that things are peachy. If you weren't you and I wasn't here yet in this amount of pain I might reconsider and reliable the experience 'Ow plus yikes.' I'd even be questioning this whole mortal coil stuff."

Instead of laughing at my joke the shadows under Buffy's eyes darken and the light in her eyes fades away. Her jaw barely moves and it looks like she has to force the words out of the narrow line her lips have set.

"Don't say that," she hisses. "Don't ever say anything like that!" She puts strong emphasis on the 'ever'. I remember a dream, the way she speaks makes me remember a dream. Of a place with only one road and a door and a….a….guardian of some sort. I remember a dream but it wasn't a dream. It should be a dream, but its not I know its not, the brass sphere, Buffy's golden ball it tells me that what should have been a dream, wasn't.

Her eyes glare down at me and the dull ache in my head seems erased as…as…fear…fear takes its place.

"Uh…sorry. No more jokes about that then, my bad I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me I didn't mean it really!" I squeak in one long breathless speech. "Buffy you're scaring me."

Her look softens and my apprehension falls away with it. She looked so, so wild.

"I'm sorry Will," she says. Again her fingers gently touch trace the edge of my left ear. I begin to hiss in anticipated pain but there isn't any. She's that careful. "I should be sorry. I let them do this to you. I should have been faster, not so….so….stupid."

Buffy looks away from me, directly at the rising sun and it's strange but the light doesn't really touch her face. It should, but its not. Her eyes are still in shadow and while the golden light makes her hair shine and her skin glow, her actual face is still dark.

"I was playing with them, they come into my territory, as a clear threat and for some stupid reason I decided to play with them. Because of that they hurt you," she says.

"My territory! They came into my territory," Her lips are pulled back, her teeth clenched together, "They came into my territory and they hurt my-" She breaks off suddenly, leaving the sentence unfinished. Her eyes flicker over to me and in a much quieter voice she mumbles, "They hurt you."

Her body is shaking violently, the tension just pouring out from her in waves, even though she's not saying anything her breathing is harsh and loud, and….its just not a good thing to hear.

So I do something that later on I will have to decide was very stupid, or very brave.

I reach out slowly and grab her wrist, the one with the tattoo that matches my own. I stroke the back of her hand slowly and softly, not saying anything, not breathing loudly. I then begin tracing the pattern of her tattoo with my fingertips, just following the loops and the whirling patterns and the lines that curve over and around themselves.

Just over and over again and, eventually, her breathing slows down a bit and her muscles begin to relax. Buffy takes a deeeeeeep breath and lets it out slowly. I smile slightly and kiss the back of her hand.

Then absently rubbing her hand with my thumbs I wait for her to say something, she will, when she's ready.

Ready happens to be rather fast. Not a minute has gone by when Buffy says, "Thanks Willow, I really needed that."

I glance up at her and though the morning sun has risen a bit more she's still…shadowed. Darkened. The light should have reached her face a while ago but…it hasn't.

"You're welcome but Buffy who were they?" I ask, I'm still wondering why the light won't reach her face.

She shrugs slightly. "I dunno Will. Which just makes my stupidity more stupid. I had no idea who they were. I know they were human but, I had no idea of their capabilities, what kind of threat they were. I was just so damn confidant that I completely ignored stuff like that. When Giles finds out he's gonna flip."

I have nothing to say to that. A lot has happened that her Watcher is not in the know about; nor any of our friends. Buffy and I have been keeping secrets like gangbusters; the kind that can, y'know, bust gangs. Big secrets and it's not going to be fun telling them. I don't know if we even can.

"I just played with them," Buffy repeats more to herself than to me. "And then they hurt you."

And then I remember. My running across the room trying to flip on the lights, the soldier grabbing me and his hating words. Then pain. Other than that, the pain, all I remember is the….is the….Oh God. The screaming!

"Buffy," I swallow; my stomach has gone all scrunchy with just a dash of acid. "What exactly did you do to them?"

"So you believe it was Agent Gates' actions toward the civilian that caused the HST to go, in your own words, psycho?" Dr. Walsh peers at me steadily over the top of the clipboard, re-reading the notes she has taken during her interview of me. Interview? More like an interrogation. Ah well, who can understand the brass?

"Yes Ma'am," I say promptly. "Based on what little I did see of this HST's capabilities it should have been able to take us down at whenever it wanted too but instead it took its time," I grimace at the truth of my statement. "It was playing with us. Up until Agent Forrest struck the civilian and at that point the HST became very er…serious in its efforts to overcome us." I wince a little as a particularly nasty ache in my shoulder flares up.

"Are you proposing then, Agent, that there is possibly some connection between this HST and the civilian? They are, perhaps allies or even the civilian is not human after all but merely another HST?" Dr. Walsh asks.

"It is a possibility Ma'am." I reply straight faced, still keeping my eyes locked on the wall behind her. The only problem with that is it keeps swimming in and out of focus.

"Interesting," is the only response I get from my superior. "What can you tell me of the HST's appearance Agent Finn?"

Dr. Walsh arches one eyebrow but gives me a slight nod. "Fair enough," she says. "Travis suffered only the broken leg he received at the hands from his own squad mate. Evans' also was not hurt too badly other than several cracked ribs and broken nose. There are also severe contusions about his back and shoulders. You have taken quite a bit of punishment. The HST tore the muscles in your left shoulder, broke three ribs on your right side. We were actually worried about internal bleeding but it appears that wasn't the case. Your right ankle is sprained and your right eye is swollen shut."

She hasn't mentioned Forrest though. This worries me, the brass is never known to volunteer information but even they don't give half-assed reports 'specially when they know they've left information out. She just wants me to ask, why does brass do that anyhow? Shit. I mean, okay I am not to wonder why I am just to do and die but, Jesus, do they have to make everything such a song and dance?

"Agent Gates, yes," Dr. Walsh murmurs. "He seemed to suffer particular attentions from the HST."

"He's not dead," Dr. Walsh continues. "But every major joint in his upper-body has been hyperextended. That includes his elbows, shoulders and wrists. The HST even wrenched his neck but did not actually break it. We've kept him unconscious until we've had time to effect repairs. He should be fully recovered in a few days though."

"From extreme hyperextension Ma'am?" I can't help myself from asking. I know the Initiative has high level of tech but c'mon, fully recovered in a few days?

"Yes Agent," she says. Shit, when she doesn't even bother to use my name I know I've screwed up. "We have certain technologies not available to the regular community. It should hasten his, and your own recovery, nicely. You, yourself, should be fit for duty in about forty-eight hours. Forrest will, admittedly take a bit longer than that. One week maximum."

"Now Agent Finn," Dr. Walsh continues. "I believe you were going to attempt to give me a description of the HST?"

"So you didn't kill them?" I can't keep the relief out of my voice. I'm resting with my back to the tree, Buffy perched on the branch next to me. She didn't want to let me go but I insisted, and still do, that I'm fine. Teensy head-face-jaw-neck-and-head ache but fine.

"Because they were human Will," Buffy replies quickly, her tone flat and even. To my ears it sounds like she's trying to convince herself rather than me. "You know that. I'm not sure why they were here, or where they were from but one thing I am sure of is that they were human."

I told Buffy I didn't care, and it's true I don't. My love for her is unconditional but I want to get her to talk about it. Buffy doesn't like talking, I know this and she knows I know. Yet….yet I want her to be comfortable talking to me. About anything, not just safe stuff. Is that selfish of me?

Buffy is still looking at the sun. It has fully risen above the horizon now and warm, pink and gold light spreads across the earth, which is, ulp, about thirty feet down. I encourage my body not to move.

"No," she finally answers. "No, I didn't not kill them because they were human."

A tiny voice in my mind, a voice summed up from everything I know about Buffy, what I think about Buffy and everything I feel about Buffy informs me that that admittance of hers was not easy for her to do.

The silence is palpable; the air thick with things waking up around us, the birds, the flowers, the world. People are either waking up in greeting to the morning sun, or rolling over and pulling the covers over their heads. I'm in a tree, with a bruised face and a naked girlfriend waiting for her to talk to me.

Ten seconds pass, twenty, thirty, forty, I lose count at forty-four. Should I start over? I could, it would give me something to do I suppose. I look over at Buffy. She's crouched on the branch, her chin resting on her knees staring at the horizon, which still looks like fire. She has just told me that the reason she didn't kill the men who attacked us had nothing to do with them being human. I guess that means that she would have, could have, killed them. She probably hates herself right now. She knows that she could kill. She really, truly knows it and I guess she's punishing herself for that. I can't let her do that, I can't let her hate, or punish herself for just being…Buffy.

I reach out slowly, cramped muscles protesting the entire time and gently brush my fingers through her hair. "I love you," I whisper gently.

I watch the muscles in her back tense up and for a second I'm afraid she'll pull away from me but she doesn't. She hunches her shoulders a bit and then she is still. For a few seconds then a small tremor ripples across her, then another and another. She's crying I think but I can't hear a thing from her, just the shaking of her shoulders.

Buffy turns to me, yes, she's crying. Now the sunlight reaches her face and the tears sparkle in the sun, yet the shadows under her eyes remain. She reaches out to me and I pull her into a hug. She still makes no noise but as I hold her, and now it's my turn to rock her slowly, her shaking eases a bit.

"Buffy-" I try and start but she pulls away and gently touches my lips, keeping me from speaking.

"I wanted to. I can see it in my head so clearly," she continues. "They hurt you, and something…powerful wanted to break free. It wanted me to destroy them…."

"Destroy them utterly," Buffy continues. "I think I know this…thing. It's what's been making the night so comfortable; so attractive. It made the night feel right to me, like I belonged there and was a part of it. I thought it was a beautiful thing but it's not a beautiful thing, it's terrible."

"No," I say around her fingers and reaching to take her hand in my own. "You're wrong."

"How can you say that Will?" she demands. Her eyebrows are narrowing, Buffy doesn't like when people get keep her from hurting herself. "You were there, with the vamps and the blood, how can you not think that me, wanting to kill somebody is not a terrible thing. Or something inside me wanting to kill?"

"Two reason," I reply holding up two fingers. "One, do you remember what I said that night? With the vampires? Do you?"

Buffy looks at the ground far below, turning her face from me. I'm not sure she's going to answer but, "You said you didn't care," she mutters.

"Because you didn't want to kill out of some need for pleasure or because the idea turned you on. It was a…a…primal thing. But its main source was the desire to protect." I place her hand over my heart, and keep it there. She doesn't try and pull away.

"That's what everything about you comes from," I say, keeping my hand over hers. "Your desire to protect. Maybe, depending what you were protecting, the reaction is more or less intense but its protection just the same. I mean, uh, we don't know who they were. What if….uh….what if they were some sort of Colombian drug lords come to do, ooh, who knows what kind of terrible things to us? Huh?" I raise my eyebrows, daring Buffy to disagree with that idea, unlikely as it seems.

"Colombian drug lords in full camo gear with ray guns? That's a bit of a reach isn't it Will?" she says softly.

"Well, I could be more general and just say honking big men with mean looking weapons." I reply defensively. I'd cross my arms and pout but I want her to keep her hand over my heart. "That's beside the point. What if it was still them and the situation was, I dunno how exactly, but different so you only had the choice of killing them or losing….uh….losing……"

"And I'd love you for it," I reply. "I really would because I know you, trust you and love you to do what you have to do but no more, and no less. You protect me."

Still holding her hand in place, I reach up with my free one and lay it gently against her cheek.

"Last night wasn't that kind of situation and you didn't kill them." I continue. "Instead of beating yourself up over what might have happened why not um…give yourself a gold star for not doing it and doing what you did instead."

Buffy shoots me an odd look, half wary, half smiling then she silently mouthes the words, "Gold star?"

After a while she shakes her head slowly. "What did I do to deserve you?" she asks…me? Herself?

At that Buffy throws her head back and laughs and this time all the morning light covers her face chasing away the shadows.

Buffy finally pulls her hand free from mine, turns and nestles against me, being mindful of my injuries and we sit like that for some time, just being there.

"Your Mom's Buffy? But, but what about clothes n'stuff? I mean you want to walk across town…uhm…"

"Naked?" Buffy grins at me. "It's too early on a Saturday, love. We'll be okay." Her tone turns serious. "We can't go back to the dorm Willow, we have no idea of this new threat. I'm not taking any chances."

"Uh…okay Buffy," I shrug helplessly. If she thinks she can sneak across Sunnydale without clothes, who am I to stop her. Buffy usually does anything she puts her mind too but at what point, before now, did Buffy put her mind to something like this?

"We have established the probable identity of the civilian who rendered assistance to HST last night," Dr. Walsh tells me. "According to the school records the room you were in is registered to one 'Willow Rosenberg' and her roommate 'Elizabeth Anne Summers'."

"Summers and….Rosenberg?" I repeat the names, feeling them roll around in my head. "Those names are familiar Ma'am."

"As well they should be Agent Finn, both these young ladies are in my introduction to Psychology class," Dr. Walsh replies. "One of the ones where you assist I believe."

"Yes Ma'am. I remember now," I say, nodding. "The redhead and the blonde, fourth row from the front."

"Do you have any idea which one was in the room last night?" Dr. Walsh asks me, still staring at that damn bored. Part of me wants to break it.

"I'm pretty sure it was Ms Rosenberg Ma'am. She has shorter hair than Ms Summers and, while I never got a good look at the civilian's face, I'm positive it was the same length as Ms Rosenberg's."

"Ma'am I'd like permission to go topside and arrest Willow Rosenberg for possible collusion with the enemy," I look my superior in the eye. I want to do this; I want to get this thing that put me here. "If she is some sort of ally we can get any and all information from her that we need through interrogation."

"Is that all Agent Finn?" Dr. Walsh replies coolly. One of her fingers is tapping on the corner of the clipboard impatiently. Not a good sign.

Dr. Walsh sighs deeply. "Under normal circumstances, Agent Finn, your request would be given the go-ahead, however these are not normal circumstances."

"Two reasons Agent Finn, One," Dr. Walsh, looking at me again, holds up one finger. "Behavioral science doesn't know what to make of this new HST," she continues. "Clearly it is fast, strong and deadly. As you yourself have said, and the reports of your squad mates that we have concur with this assessment." Dr. Walsh pauses and her eyes lose their focus.

"What makes it doubly dangerous, Riley," she's become distracted enough she used my given name. "Is that it clearly demonstrated advanced combat and tactical behavior. Most HST's we know of essentially charge into combat but this one, this one was different."

"It used your men against each other," she continues. "Dodging out of the way of Evan's blow and so forth."

"Yes Ma'am," I reply again focusing on the far wall. "What does this have to do with my being denied permission to acquire Ms Rosenberg for questioning though?"

Dr. Walsh's eyes snap into focus and she stares right at me. I can't help it when my eyes flicker from the neutral place on the wall to meet hers. I want to look away, I really want to but I can't. She won't let me.

"We want this one alive, Agent." Dr. Walsh says fiercely. "We want it alive very, very much. You do not need to know the whys do you soldier?"

"And you are prepared to carry out your orders to the letter?" Dr Walsh points at me. Daring me to challenge her, I know this look, drill sergeants carry the same look but no Drill sergeant I ever met had a look as scary as Dr. Walsh's.

"Very well then," Dr. Walsh says calmly. Her blazing eyes now, calm, cool, relaxed, normal everyday eyes. She glances again at her clipboard. "Here are your orders, Agent Finn."

"Uh…Ma'am?" I am hesitant to interrupt my commanding officer yet again but….

"Yes Agent?" Dr. Walsh snaps, back to using just the term agent. I really have to learn to shut up or I'll be on KP duty for the rest of my career.

"You….said….there were two reasons Ma'am?" I hope she doesn't take this personally.

"I would think that would be obvious Agent," Dr. Walsh says back to me. "The reason we do not wish to risk going in with force is that this unknown HST has already destroyed, single handedly and without any apparent effort on its part, our most able and skilled assault force." She pauses and I it takes all my willpower to keep looking at the same spot on the wall, not to lock eyes with her.

"And is Alpha Squad the best we have?" I know where this is going but I have no choice to play along.

"And how long did it take for this HST to destroy Alpha Squad, the best squad the Initiative has, commanded by Agent Riley Finn, the best agent the Initiative has?" Dr. Walsh asks me calmly, she's tearing me apart and using the same tone of voice she would if asking about the weather.

"Ma'am, just over ten seconds Ma'am!!" I shout out that last part. I don't think Dr. Walsh notices. The wall Finn, look at the wall, stay focused on the wall.

"Ma'am, yes Ma'am!!" The wall, the wall, the wall, look at the wall boy and you better get real good at it!

"You are to become aquatinted either with Ms Rosenberg, or Ms Summers. Preferably both. Once this is accomplished you are to turn your considerable charms upon one or the other to get access to their life. Any information that is then shared with you, any at all, not just anything regarding possible HST contact, is to be reported to me, personally. Is that understood?"

Dr. Walsh short speech is said in a clinical, cold, precise manner which almost makes me burst out laughing, what she's said in the manner she says it. I don't burst out laughing of course; I'm a well trained soldier.

Dr. Walsh finally looks directly at me and now, with a perfect sense of timing, the room stops swimming and snaps into crystal clear focus. Ironically enough she's smiling at me, slightly. "You are to seduce one of them Riley," she says not unkindly. "Or both of them if you think you're up to it."

This is so unfair! I don't want to do some stupid kind of undercover work; this thing took me and mine out neat as you please. I want to find it, track it down.

"What you learn from that…mmm…" Dr. Walsh pauses. "Interaction is to be handed over to me. Now do you understand?"

"Ma'am, yes Ma'am." I reply automatically. It takes some doing but I manage not to clench my teeth while responding. Not that she'd care either way.

"Good," she nods and resumes looking back at her clipboard. What's on that thing anyway?

"Yes, Ma'am." I nod, I almost, but not quite salute. "I'll get on it this Sunday."

The door swings open and Dr. Walsh pokes her head in. "I almost forgot Riley; there's a stack of papers that need to be graded for Monday's classes. Just because you're in bed doesn't mean you can't do paperwork. They're on the table beside you. Hop to it."

I ignore the papers on the table beside me, they're not important. What's important is finding the thing that put me here.

Fine, if that's the way the brass wants it, that's the way I'll get it done. One thing's for sure though, once we get the thing that put me and mine here I'm going to find some way to thank it, personally.

So, I have to become all 'friendly' with these two girls eh? Probably just some giggly Californian schoolgirls. What do they know of the real world? Not much, heck, if it weren't for projects like the Initiative they'd probably wind up some HST's main course.

I'll see them on Monday, after class. Home town Riley never could do no harm. I'll have to think about it a bit. Better get some info first.

I reach over to the intercom and flip the switch. "Yeah, this is Agent Finn in medical; I need the files on two students also residents in Sunnydale. Names are: Summers, Elizabeth and Rosenberg, Willow. I need that stuff in under thirty minutes guys, so hop to it."

Getting out of the Initiative is easy. Just say the guards' first names, wave to them and they let me walk right on by without a glance nor a worry. It was a bit trickier getting in but that wasn't my problem in the first place.

The sun is well above the horizon by the time I make it to the center of Sunnydale. Some of the shops are open and my window isn't due for an hour or so. I spend the time in a bookstore. I browse through some of the more popular fiction and decide on a paperback reprint of a thriller that came out a few months ago. I find it very amusing to read horror stories and thrillers now, considering I know what's really going on.

Afterwards I sit at the local coffee shop, I think it's called the Mocha Pump, or Mocha Lump maybe. I order a muffin, some coffee and I eat my breakfast while flipping through the pages of the book. This takes up the rest of the time before my window arrives. Finally, time to go to work.

I walk briskly across the street, waving to an oncoming car that slows down to give me time to pass, and enter the phone booth. I don't need a quarter for this call. I punch in a long string of numbers that are not actually a number but rather words; words that spell out are an incantation. We don't use just modern technology alone for our security.

The tone rings seven times exactly and then I'm disconnected. With the dial tone buzzing in my ear I say clearly, "It's me. Tell the council, the Slayers gone feral."

Then I hang up, exit the phone booth. I check my watch; yes I do have time for another muffin before my first class.

Disclaimer: All this belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Inc. (Grrr…arrgh)

Getting across the town to her mothers isn't as diffilcult as I thought it would be. Since it's early morning, on a Saturday, the streets are pretty much deserted. At first I try to insist that I can keep up with her, cause, I thought she was going to walk there. I must have still not been thinking clearly. Within a few minutes I'm gasping for oxygen and barely keeping up, without a break in her step Buffy scoops me up in her arms and really begins running!

This is, I dunno, the third time she's carried me somewhere in the last few days?

I remember when I was younger and I'd play piggyback with Xander, he'd be running around and it was really hard to stay on him, his whole body would shake with every step he would take and I had to hold on tight or I'd fall off. More than once I did. My mother would always complain about it when I got grass stains on the butt of my pants.

There's nothing like that when Buffy carries me. For one thing I'm cradled in her arms like an infant, so there's no effort on my part to say…um…on board. The green whips by us so fast that it blurs. I can't actually make out the details the bushes we're passing, in fact I don't even notice we leave the more urban parts of the town behind us and enter deep into the woods.

The solid green all around us is still a blur and I find it kind of soothing to watch it all just fly past us. Kinda makes me a bit sleepy. Like looking out a car window at the passing scenery and your eyes get heavier and heavier.

It's right about then my eyes close and I just relax. I don't hear anything, not a rustle or a whisper of sound as Buffy runs. There's no sound of snapping twigs or branches and leaves being brushed aside, I…I…I can't even hear the sound of her footsteps or hear them. So quiet, so soothing, I'm still kinda tired and her arms are so warm and comforcounter I think I could probably just fall asleep right-

"You okay hon?" Her voice still whispers in my ear. I love it when Buffy uses endearments. Don't happen often but when it does I can just know the feelings behind them.

"Yeah…sure…I'm okay, I'm up," I feel the warmth of her arms still holding me. "Well, I'm awake but since you've still got me it could be argued that I am not technically upright."

I look around, cause I want to figure out where we are exactly. It doesn't take me very long. The first thing I see tells me where Buffy brought us; its the big, crooked, old tree that she used to climb up and down to sneak out of her room at night. I, myself, more than once climbed it sneaking into Buffy's room, or out of it.

With a soft chuckle Buffy sets me down on my feet, I note her arm around my shoulder doesn't move, maybe just in case I get a little dizzy. That's so sweet a teensy bit annoying sometimes but, hey, she cares.

Her arms instantly help me back up after my knees buckle. I reach out blindly for some support as the world swims a bit and it lands on something soft and supple and…

"Hmmm," I hear Buffy purr. "If I'd known, Willow I'd have carried us to a hotel instead of my house."

My eyes shoot open and I yank my hand away from her breast like it was scalding. "OhjeezeI'msorryitwasanaccidentreally…"

Still supporting me with one arm she shushes my softly with the barest touch of her lips to mine. Pulling away, I see she's smiling brightly.

"Never be sorry," Buffy says still whispering, or more like a soft muttering. "I stopped caring about things like that a long time ago. I am yours and whatever you want, anything at all, is okay."

I almost start hyperventilating. This is Buffy after all, and, love her lots, but she's not the most open person in the world. Yeah, she's opened up to me in more ways than most…

Against my will my mind springs back to how this night began and how she…er…opened up and I can feel my face heating up.

This is so not fun, I mean, okay the whole gay thing is kind new to the both of us but its been…what…a month now? I should be able to talk about it with a little more comfort, much less thing about it.

"You, you mean that?" I ask, still staring at my feet. I wiggle my toes a bit and watch them curl around and under. Don't think Mom can complain about grass stains in my feet, I'll wash em' off myself.

This…this isn't totally the Buffy I know. I don't mind it, Buffy always was so sure of herself but if you actually knew her, knew her past the outside you'd know she was really nervous and scared. She could get scared like everybody else, except she also had the fear of having to deal with nightmares, the fear of myabe being a nightmare and she wasn't even allowed to show it.

This is different. Her…her…she's…um. She's just so…everything around her, about her, is now…just…well, she's sure of herself. Like she always has been but…uh…it goes through her. Completly. She looks positive and confidant and its not a show anymore. Its the real deal. If I wasn't already I'd be in love!

I am suddenly aware how badly I want to take a shower. I raise my eyes and see Buffy. Still Buffy but naked, glorious Buffy with the rising sun behind her, the peach glow of light caught in her hair. I want to take a shower, but not alone.

She steps forward and pulls me into her arms, being careful not to jostle me, oh yeah, my face. I'd forgotten about that, it doesn't even hurt anymore.

"Everything," Buffy whispers in my ear. Her breath blows a few strands of my hair across the top of my ear. Her hands slide between the folds of the robe I've been wearing since my shower so I can feel her skin on my own.

I wake up slowly and begin to stretch. An uncomfortable stitch in my side reminds me to be careful so I stop stretching. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and get to my feet trying to stifle a yawn.

The fluorescent lights were burning all night and I didn't sleep well. How am I supposed to heal if I can't get any sleep? Still, I'm feeling a lot better and its only been about eight hours since I got my ass handed to me.

The reminder of that makes makes my heart pound in my chest. I dunno why exactly, it could be part of my training, or maybe I was just born with it but no matter what happens, what I feel, a part of myself remains distant and just analyses everything.

Right now it's trying to figure out whether my heart is beating so loudly because I came this close to dying last night, or is it because I'm angry that I got beaten so easily. That my men and I got beaten aside like we were nothing.

We're the best here and whatever that thing was took us apart like we were nothing.

I sit back down on the bed and try and go over the events last night, to reconstruct the situation in my head and take it apart, look for things I could have done better, that we, as a unit could have done to have given us a chance for coming out of that winners, not waking up in various parts of the Initiative Medical Wing.

No matter how hard I try to remember it, to understand what went wrong and why the more I remember harvesting time with my dad. He had this big old tractor and it took a lot of work, back breaking work that would last for the better part of a week, to get in all the grain. Then one day Dad went out and bought a new combine Harvester. It was a gigantic machine. Tall, green, with a huge maw in the front and, what seemed like to me at the time, a thousand curved, rotating teeth. In that thing Dad, by himself, did in a weekend what it took him and me, and the rest of my bro's, a week. Except in this machine he sat on his ass the entire time, letting the machine chew up, sort out and spit the grain to the wagon in the back.

Okay, so the these HST's got themselves a combine harvester. Well, me and my men aren't grain just going to stand around. They upgraded, we upgrade in turn.

I fluff up my pillow a few times, lean it against the wall and try and make myself comfy. I grab the files I was given on Elizabeth Summers and Willow Rosenberg and begin to read them.

I sit on stool, in Buffy's kitchen dressed in a white, fluffy bathrobe, staring at the two white pills in the palm of my hand. I hate taking aspirin, or any pills for that matter. I can never swallow them without feeling like I just tried to eat a bowling ball. Chewing them is out, so bitter I gag so…

Buffy, also wearing a bathrobe identical to mine, is on the phone talking to Giles; we agreed to call him after we got out of the shower.

"Yes, I know what time it is Giles," Buffy says into the phone. "But you're the one who-"

"Yes, it is very nice of you to stay up very late researching," Buffy replies. "Even though no one asked, yes Giles. Self improvement…grand. Look, you're the one who told me to call if anything strange happened."

Buffy rolls her eyes a bit, listening to Giles reaction. "That's right, Giles. That's what I've been trying to fit in edgewise for the last, well in all honesty, ten seconds but something strange did happen."

Buffy grunts slightly, interrupted by Giles again. She smiles at me and shakes her head back and forth mouthing 'blah blah blah'.

"If you let me tell you, you can find out." Buffy says. "Okay, Willow and I were attacked last night- No! NO! Giles let me finish this time. We're both fine, yeah everything's okay. Uh-huh, we're at my mothers. I want you to call a meeting. Make sure everybody's there. When?" Buffy glances at the clock hanging on the wall.

"Eleven sound good?" Buffy says. " Willow and I need some breakfast after all. Okay then, eleven,"

Buffy's about to hang up the phone when she yanks it back to her ear. "What? What? I didn't catch that Giles." She's silent a moment.

"No, no I don't think research here would help, Giles." Buffy says. "Not unless you've got back copies of 'Soldier of Fortune' Magazine anywhere. Trust me, I'll explain later."

Another short pause. "I said I'll explain later. Right, okay, bye." This time she does hang up the phone.

I'm still starting at the two little pills in my hand, not happy about them one bit.

"Okay," I grumble while swallowing the pills with a chug of orange juice. "But only because you asked so nicely."

"Willow," Buffy replies, now elbow deep in the fridge, what is she looking for anyway? "I blew in your ear and nibbled at your collarbone."

"Yes, my point exactly," I finish off my orange juice and set the glass on the counter. "More juice please."

"Hey," Buffy says from the depths of the frige. "I'm busy here, get it yourself."

"Have I ever told you that its my fantasy to be waited on hand and foot by a slim blonde dressed in a french maids outfit?" I ask resting my elbows on the counter top. "That she can stake vamps and has super powered is a major plus."

Buffy just peeks over her shoulder at me. "You mention anything about black latex and you can make your own breakfast," she turns back to digging through the fridge muttering. I think she says something about the detrimental effects of too much Xander on innocent jewish redheads, but I could be wrong.

And that is how Mrs. Summers finds us. Buffy digging through the fridge, myself seated at the counter in the center of the kitchen, both dressed in our fuzzy white bathrobes and our hair still wet.

Okay, 'finds us' is too understated. In truth she comes into the kitchen, her hair all mussed, blinking sleep out of her eyes and her hands locked around the handle of an wooden baseball bat.

"Get out of my kitchen you demons!" she screams and then stops dead in her tracks.

Buffy spins around, one hand holding a glass pitcher of milk, the other a plateful of tastefully sliced oranges, apples and tomatoes. All covered carefully with saran wrap.

"Gosh Mom," Buffy says. "I know college tuition is expensive but I never quite expected to be labeled as a 'demon'."

"Buffy?" Mrs. Summers seems a little confused. She's standing there in her nightgown, baseball bat high over her head and her eyebrows are narrowing in confusion. So that's where Buffy got her little scrunchy confused look! It looks so cute on her and I really love it when…breath Rosenberg, breath!

Carefully Mrs. Summers leans the baseball bat against the wall. "I…what are you doing here honey? I thought I woke up, heard the shower and…" Her voice dies away as she shrugs helplessly.

"And you thought demons had invaded your household intent on corrupting the lovely decor of your bathroom? Maybe use all the hot water?" Buffy asks with a smirk. "Wow, those demons truly have some twisted ideas on evil. Have some sliced fruit Mom."

She glances at me, "Hello Willow how-" she gasps. "My God Willow, what happened to you! Your face, you poor dear are you alright? Who did this to you? Buffy how could you let this happen! What on earth were you two doing?"

Mrs. Summers comes, practically running, around the counter to gently turn my head to one side and examine the damage. I got a good look at myself in the mirror when we were taking the showers.(Separately, darn it.) I don't look too bad. My jaw line is a little puffy and there's a yellowing bruise underneath my eye running down to end just below my chin.

She examines my face silently and then turns and aims a baleful glare at her daughter.

She doesn't say anything, Mrs. Summers I mean. Just stares silently at Buffy who is having a hard time meeting her mom's glare. She tries to and…and…if you didn't know her, if I didn't know Buffy I'd miss it. But I don't; I watch as the…whatever it is…sorta…goes away? The confidence inside, the one that allowed her to laugh at the men attacking us, that let her feel perfectly comfortable kissing me in public, run across the town naked, it…fades. Buffy still doesn't look away but the….presence, her own, it's lessened. The corners of lips begin to flicker. To twitch, a little up, like she's about to smile than flicker downward and I can tell, I know her well enough to…er…know that they'll keep going down and down and…uh…she'll probably start crying and blaming herself and I don't want to have to hammer through her head again it wasn't her fault and all that other junk.

Sure, those talks about how I want to help her and how I like being with her, and how those feelings increased to where I not only love helping but also love her, those are always deep, meaningful conversations and usually do a good job of preventing Buffy for placing, yet again, everything on her shoulders. But, I mean, I can only do it so often, they get kinda…I guess…monotonous.

"I'm okay, really Mrs. Summers," I say, interrupting the stare down. "There was a little bit of action last night and I zigged when I should have zagged, that's all. Buffy took care of em' though. Didn't you Buffy?"

"Kinda," Buffy says weakly. Turning she sets the milk and fruit on the countertop. She glances at me and I can see the guilt on her face, plane as day. I have her eye contact for only an instant and in that time I wink at her slowly and purse my lips, just a fraction.

It works, Buffy…twitching lips…twitching lips? She stops looking so nervous and…well, still a little guilty but better.

She sits herself down the stool next to mine and her arms curls around my waist, that's a little obvious being right in front of her mother.

"Uh…ma," Buffy begins. I don't like the hesitation in her voice. "Mom, there's…mmm…somthing you should know."

"Yeah," I pipe up, I try to subtly get out of Buffy's embrace, not that I don't like it but its kinda…tactless? "There's some new players in these Hellmouth games. Fun, fun, fun."

"S'true," Buffy nods. Slowly she turns her head to look me right in the eyes. "But that's not the only thing."

"What?" the words burst out before I can stop them. "Hold up, whoa Buffy, I'm not sure thats-"

"Sure you are, being up all night, night work, college studies and that kind of stuff. I can understand." I reply quickly. I'm trying not to shout, or squeak, or panic, I'm trying to keep my voice neutral, flat, totally normal, a little bored. A 'Ha-ha, nothing happening here officer.' kind of voice.

"Not that kind of tired," Buffy answers me. "Tired of secrets, tired of…holding things. Tired of being scared. I want to tell."

"Well," Buffy pauses. "Yeah, I mean, she's Mom y'know. Absolute love and acceptance an' all that?"

"Well, not always." Mrs. Summers murmurs more to herself. Is she thinking of Angelus?

"I wasn't 'always' loving when I found out about your…calling Buffy." Mrs. Summers says bitterly.

"Yes always!" Buffy rounds on her mother. "Okay, so you freaked. Understandable. I didn't do too hot either. I don't blame, you don't blame. Fair enough Mom?"

Mrs. Summers leans forward; putting her elbows on the countertop and rests her chin on one fist. She's quiet, her eyes flickering from me, to Buffy, back to me, and then slowly, her eyes begin to lower. They're heading toward where Buffy has her arm around my waist. I'm tempted to just pull away from Buffy completely but…but…I can't.

I peek open my eyes and, yes, Mrs. Summers is staring at where Buffy is holding me close. She's looking exactly at Buffy's arm, wrapped possessively around my waist. I've seen us like this in the mirror back at the dorm. There's nothing platonic about how Buffy's holding me. Mrs. Summers doesn't seem to be too upset though.

"Of course not Willow, why would I be? Its perfectly normal." Mrs. Summers says looking up at me.

"Normal?" Buffy asks the question out loud that I'm still trying to wrap my mind around.

"Well, you two have always been so very close so I kinda figured something like this was inevitable, what with College being so intoxicating with freedoms." Mrs. Summers shrugs slightly in a dismissive gesture.

"Mom," Buffy begins slowly. "And I don't want any stories told about your college lifestyle when you answer this question but, you're saying that what me and Willow are doing is perfectly acceptable to you?"

Mrs. Summers turns away from us, reaching for the carton of orange juice. "Well, I wouldn't have done it Buffy, but if that's what you and Willow want what business is it of mine?"

"Wow Buffy," I gasp. "Your mother is so cool! If I tried to tell my mom that I was now lovers with my best friend she'd do cartwheels."

I toss the files back onto the bedside counter. They don't tell me anything more this time then they did the first forty-nine times I read them still, at least I have committed to memory what little we do have.

Names of family members, addresses, phone numbers, grades, criminal records, medical records.

The reports indicate that she was expelled from her high school in LA for burning down the gymnasium, and suspected of murder twice; the second one being the deputy mayor of Sunnydale. But…nothing came of any of the investigations.

Medically speaking Ms Summers has had quite a career as well. Just last fall being hospitalized for blood loss after being attacked by a 'wild animal'. I've never quite understood how an entire town can buy that excuse so often? Are these people willingly blind? Then she checks herself out and again her school explodes.

It's not a whole lot but it's not nothing either. I sit back and think about it, I let the facts just flow in and out of my head. Names, places, faces of the people these two girls know, dates, times…all this information just flitters through my head and I don't try to sort it out. Just let it go where it will.

Maybe I won't come up with anything now, no conclusions or hunches or even for a few days but, and particularly when I get additional information, sooner or later, if this whole 'spy' plan of Dr. Walsh's works out who knows?

Again I stand up and do a few experimental knee bends. There's some grumbling but for the most part I seem to be on the mend. Jeeze, the doc was right, I'm healing real fast. Gotta love modern technology.

Its when I try to walk I have a little problem. A shooting pain lances up my right side and I have to lean against a wall for a few seconds to wait for it to fade. After a time I feel relatively okay and try again.

Going to the locker I toss the medical gown, God I hate these things, in the trash and slip into my fatigues.

Normally my men would be top priority but I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday and it wouldn't do me any good to keel over on my face.

Hot water, man, now that is satisfaction. Yeah, feeling one hundred and ten percent better now. Just give me a few more days, get some training in. I'll show Dr. Walsh that I'm back for active duty. Not undercover crap, but real, active, combat ready duty.

I sit down in the Initiative Mess hall with a steaming plate of…of…well, I'm not actually sure what I'm eating here. They call it scrambled eggs and bacon but…

It figures, a multi-billion dollar subterranean laboratory and military force. Armed with the latest in modern and experimental technology and they still can't make decent eggs. What the hell, food is food.

He sits down across from me. We've never gotten along. He and I jockeyed for command of Alpha Squad. I won, he didn't.

"Yeah," I nod still staring at me…eggs? "My men on the other hand, they got a bit roughed up. Forrest is not in good shape."

"Aw," Freeman makes a dismissive gesture. "He'll be fine. Doc takes care of us real good y'know?"

"I know." I nod again. "Could barely move last night when I woke up and now…" I shrug. "Here I am."

"Here you are." He agrees. "Just in time for breakfast too," Freeman shakes his head slightly, "You poor bastard."

I can't help it, I chuckle. I don't get it though. Why is he being so nice to me? When I got the promotion to head Alpha Squad he did everything but swear eternal vengeance.

"Well, I gotta get goin'." Freeman says standing up. "Gotta check out my command."

He pauses. This does not bode well. "Uh…Riley…." He says slowly. "Didn't they tell you?"

The fork in my left hand caves under my grip. "Tell. Me. What?" Alright, at this point I already know, I can tell but…I have to hear it myself.

"I've been assigned to command Alpha Squad." Freeman is trying to be conciliatory, I can tell. I can hear his smile, his smug attitude and condescending demeanor. Oh, it doesn't show but I can tell. " Word is they got some spec op job for you." He finishes. "Not because of anything you did, or didn't do last night, y'know something very hush-hush. Least so I heard."

"Is that so?" I say slowly. "Is that the word?" The part of my mind that never gets touched by my feelings absently informs me the metal of the fork has cut into the palm of my hand and I'm bleeding."

"Yeah," Freeman says. "Yeah it is. You got any problems with it, take it up with command Riley."

His tone is arrogant now, defensive. He's worried I might try and start something, but I won't. Not that I couldn't and win. Freeman never could hold a candle to me in hand to hand, okay…I'll admit he's a better shot than I am. Right now though, there are no guns. If I wanted to I could take him apart. I know I could.

"No," I say with a small smile, I'm betting he finds in unerving; that's the point. "No real problems. I will inquire of course on the details of my new assignment but I have no real 'problems' with it, Freeman."

"Oh." He says. I notice he lets out his breath, was he holding it? Stress levels Freeman, have to watch your stress levels. "Don't worry Riley, I'll take good care of em'."

"I'm sure you will." I reply. He nods at me in farewell and leaves without another word.

Sure he'll get them all killed. I wouldn't lose much sleep if Freeman wound up HST-bait but these men are mine, my men!

If Walsh has gone so far as to replace my command than that means there's little chance I can get her to cancel this 'undercover' op of hers.

Fine then. Right, I'll report to her, find out exactly what she wants me to do, get it done and get my men back before they wind up dead thanks to incompetent boy here.

"Did she say lovers, Buffy?" Mrs. Summers asks again. She's putting all her weight on her hands that are flat on the counter top. She's leaning forward in an aggressive 'this is not at all funny' kind of way.

"Yeah Mom, she did," Buffy says, standing up. Just like that New Buffy's back! Her voice, like…just a solid ringing…tone. There's no clue anywhere that she's actually nervous or this is some fake thing. Buffy's not scared of her mother at all, or this situation. I can tell.

Buffy has her arms crossed over her chest now, back straight, her stare just as solid and, wow…even more intimidating than Mrs. Summers's own. "And she's right."

Mrs. Summers stare switches to me and I can, in no way, meet it in intensity, hell, I couldn't even meet my own mothers and she's hardly ever there!

"Willow," Mrs. Summers says quietly. "Are you in a relationship with my daughter?"

The words are quiet, but so is the sound of a sword being drawn from a sheath, or a gun being cocked so I take no comfort in Mrs. Summers level of volume.

That doesn't mean I like the way she asked the question, like I'm the one involved with Buffy, like somehow I caused it and she's just along for the ride.

"No, Mrs. Summers," I say, I don't think my voice is shaking. Behind me I feel Buffy start and her hands on my shoulders tighen just for a fraction of a second. "We're engaged in a relationship with each other." I look Mrs. Summers dead in the eye when I say that too!

"A romantic relationship," I add. "A lovers relationship, a full blown I love her and will keep doing so until the day I die," I purse my lips and look as if I'm thinking deep thoughts. "May that be a long, long way off I wouldn't mind never actually, same for Buffy." As I speak I feel more and more confidant, and I think, I THINK I'm beginning to get a little louder.

"Its full and rich and sweet and its everything in a relationship you'd think it is Mrs. Summers. It's a sexual relationship," I say, drawing out the 'S' like a hiss.

"A real deal, hot n'spicy, rootin' tootin' frolickin' through the fields of daisys hand in hand with blues skies and warm sunshine kind of thing!" I stand up slowly and step closer to the counter edge, Buffy's hands fall away from my shoulders and its okay though. Her support is nice n'everything but….

"It's a having picnics by a river thing," I continue. "A moonlight walk thing, a going to the movies and kissing in the back row thing," Now I'm pointing my finger at Buffy's mother with every word and waving it about with a real sense of authority, and there is one, cause I mean what I'm saying. I mean it to the bottom of myself.

"Its a cuddling up together on cold nights kind of thing and all those other aspects of love and…and…all the togetherness things you can think of and we like it JUST FINE!!" I finish on a high note and now I'm the one leaning my hands on the countertop, staring Mrs. Summers right in the eye.

Mrs. Summers is quiet for a few seconds then she looks away from me and sits down slowly on one of the stools. "Oh," she says.

It is when I've fully caught my breath that I realize what exactly I've done: Namely bitched out Buffy's mother. All the blood rushes to my head and I want, more than anything else, to bolt from the room and hide under a bed. Any bed will do, I'm not picky!

That or prostrate myself on the floor and beg for Mrs. Summers forgiveness. I can't believe I did that, I'm so ashamed, I mean, this is Mrs. Summers! She was…she is…more of a mother figure to me than my own parents! And I just yelled at her, I just screamed at her and…and…questioned her authority and was mean and awful and not very nice at all and that was such a very unice thing to do and that must mean I'm a terrible person, and Buffy is going to be upset with me for hurting her mother and she'll leave me and everyone will avoid me, cause, they'll all know I'm the terrible person that was mean to Buffy Summers' mom!

"Oh God Mom, did you see Willow?" Buffy exclaims, right in my ear. I try not to wince. "I'm positive, I'm sure, very sure. Surely sure in my sureness. On the one hand because I feel the exact same way."

Buffy pauses again. "On the other hand I'm also sure because I wouldn't to have that kind of Willow unleashed on me."

I reach back with my right hand and caress her cheeks. "You fear the Willow?" I ask playfully.

"Who wouldn't?" Buffy answers. I can feel her attention shift from me to her mother who's still sitting kinda slumped over the counter.

"I'm…" Mrs. Summers starts. "I'm just worried honey," she says finally. "Worried about what with everything you have to deal with, the Slaying and the…I still can't believe I say these words seriously, vampires and demons; now this. The world doesn't know what you do Buffy, but they'll find out about this and…I'm just worried for you honey."

"But you still love me?" Buffy asks. Her voice doesn't tell you, if you don't know what to listen for, but at that moment I know she's incredibly vulnerable. Hell, that question itself screams vulnerability.

Mrs. Summers laughs quietly, and reaches across the counter. She takes one of Buffy's hands, even though Buffy is still embracing me from behind, in her own. "Yes Buffy, I still love you. As you said unconditionally."

"Er…and me Mrs. Summers?" I ask, its hard to talk to someone when you're busy studying, for the second time that day, your toes. Only this time they're nowhere near as interesting. Watching toes curl on linoleum just isn't the same. "Are…are we okay? I didn't mean to yell at you it…er…just…" I shrug.

I can't see Mrs. Summers but then touches my chin with her fingertips and lifts my face so I'm looking at her. She smiles softly and nods. "Yes Willow, we're absolutely okay. I probably deserved it actually. The phrasing of the question wasn't exactly fair."

"I have to know Mom," Buffy interrupts, "What exactly did you think me and Willow were talking about at first anyway?"

Wordlessly Mrs. Summers points to our wrists. I glance down and notice the ornate design of the henna tattoo curled around my wrist and its double looping around Buffy's. We got them last weekend at mall, we thought they were kind of cool at the time.

I can't help it, I begin to giggle, this sets Buffy off, I can feel her body shaking against mine, her laughter ringing in my ears, her cheek resting on my shoulder. Mrs. Summers joins in a few seconds later, resting her head in her hands laughing with the two of us.

"I…I was always worried, " Mrs. Summers gasps out, "That it would be some handsome, young man, that would take my daughter away from me. I completely ignored the…" she breaks off into another fit of giggles, "That it would be a beautiful young woman to carry her off!"

This makes me even laugh harder, Buffy's sucking in great whoops of air in between gales of laughter, she's not really embracing me anymore but more like hanging onto my shoulders for support. I'm still leaning on the counter, my knees threatening to go any second now.

"Act-" Fresh giggles force me to break off. "Actually," I say, "It's Buffy who does most of the carrying."

Buffy loses her battle with gravity and falls over sideways, laughing her head off, arms wrapped around her belly, curling up into a tight ball of giggles and chortles. A split second later I join her floorwise and can't really see much else, what with my ears tearing up from laughing so hard.

Eventually the laughter dies away and Buffy and I lay on the floor, wiping tears from our eyes, trying to catch our breath. I can't be sure where Mrs. Summers is, being that she's on the other side of the counter.

"Okay, I'm going to take a shower then…oh I don't feel like cooking, how about we go out for breakfast." Mrs. Summers asks, still an unseen voice on the other side of the counter.

"Oh all right." Mrs. Summers sighs. "Get some clothes on, I'll be ready in fifteen minutes."

"Aye, aye Mom." Buffy salutes from the floor. I stifle a giggle, can't let that start up again.

I hear Buffy's mother shuffle out of the kitchen. She's probably thinking that his is not how she expected her Saturday to start out.

Buffy and I lay on the floor, her kitchen has the neatest stucco ceiling. I never noticed that before.

"Ow! That hurt!" I sit up shaking my hand, peering at her over my shoulder I give her a mock glare.

Disclaimer: All this belongs to Joss Whendon and Mutant Enemy Inc. (Grrr…arrggh)

It is a very relaxed atmosphere surrounding our table at the local International House of Pancakes. Buffy, sitting across from me, is busy devouring her second plate of the 'Six Pack'. That being six huge flapjacks just drowning in syrup, butter and blueberries. It also comes with six sauseges, and six slices of bacon.

Mrs. Summers nibbles at her own plate scrambled eggs; occasionally glancing at her daughter seated beside her and how she appears to be inhaling the food, not exactly chewing it.

I shake my head in wonder as Buffy, still chewing on the last bite of her pancakes, chomps down one slice of bacon in a single bite.

"That a religious based statement, girlfriend?" Buffy grins at me, smacking her lips loudly.

At the word 'girlfriend' Mrs. Summers, who was sipping at her orange juice, makes a slight strangled cough. She manages to contain it and not spray her drink all over the table. Buffy pays it no mind, and I follow her example.

"Nope," I shake my head again, "That's a thigh based statement. Yours are going to balloon up like…uh…er.." My brain fumbles the ball.

"Yeah, uh…like balloons," I agree weakly. "Okay, heh, that didn't really work out like I had planned."

"I was just wondering…er…I mean, that is you've made your position very clear, Buffy, but I'm still curious," Mrs. Summers glances at her plate of mostly untouched eggs. "I'm curious how all…" Her voice dies away and she waves her hand slightly to indicate me and Buffy.

"How it all started, Mom?" Buffy asks, now in a more subdued voice. She glances at her mother out of the corners of her eyes, not looking at her directly.

I try not to sigh to loudly. I know this is what Buffy wanted to do, she said she didn't want to have any more secrets but, as if we havn't dropped enough bombs on her poor Mom, now Buffy wants to share how she's…what? Become a midnight streaker? A hunter? Something less human but more…more…More Buffy?

Buffy silently puts her fork and knife down. There's a few scraps of sausage still on her plate but Buffy ignores the remaining food, I'm not sure she's seeing it.

I stretch my left leg out slowly and gently brush her own legs with it, some form, any form of contact will do. Her eyes flicker up to meet mine and a small grateful smile flashes across her face for a second. Then she stares back at her plate, looking more on the inside then anything outside.

"Okay Mom," Buffy speaks. "I'll tell you but there's more to it then just…" she repeats Mrs. Summers hand gesture. "Though that is the best part, and the most welcome."

"Oh dear," Mrs. Summers says, resting one elbow on the table, her chin resting on her hand. "There's more."

Again Buffy's eyes flicker to meet mine. I smile slightly, "Yeah, Mrs. Summers," I say also quietly. "Lots."

Buffy's silent for a moment, still staring at the uneaten food in front of her, soaking in the blueberry, syrup combo. Then, surprisingly, she snickers a bit.

"I just realised something," she says through her quiet laughter. "Maybe my life isn't that strange after all."

"Uh, okay Buffy," I say quietly, leaning foward slightly. "How'd you reach that conclusion?"

"Well," Buffy looks at me; her stare one of warmth and confidance, just a flash of humor too. "Like many great changes in peoples lives all over the world, Mom, this, Willow an' me, " Again an exact copy of Mrs. Summers innocent hand gesture, waving her hand at herself and me. "Everything I'm going to tell you, it all started in a bar."

Okay, breakfast's over. Lets go find Dr. Walsh, cause me and her have a few things to discuss.

Hm…she's not in the containment area, and the lab is empty, funny that. Usually their are experiments going on there twenty four seven. Maybe she's topside.

I head to the locker to grab civilian garb and on the way bump into Evens also changing.

He's sitting on a bench in front of a wall of lockers, struggling to put on a shirt and it looks like the shirt is winning. I lean against the doorframe and just watch.

He finishes putting on his t-shirt and I catch him wince slightly as he pulls his head through. Other than the wince he seem's okay.

"Evens," I say, nodding at him. He glances up and then bolts to his feet, and makes a pretty good attempt at standing at attention. I notice he clenches his teeth, I suppose he's trying not to voice and he seems to be favoring his right leg slightly.

"At ease soldier," I command, he settles into a relaxed stand, eyes stil straight ahead. "No, I meant that all the way Evens. We're off duty, topside procedure okay?"

Evens grins, and slumps to the bench, again wincing slightly. "Thanks Riley." He says. "How ya doin' anyhow?"

Topside procedure means we're supposed to treat each other like normal students, no military at all in any of our mannerisms. I settled down on the bench next to him. "I'm okay," I reply. "Feel like a large, walking bruise but…I'll survive. You?"

"I'd sum it up the same," Evens shrugs, bends over and starts lacing up his shoes. "Whatever that thing was seemed to not pay me much attention. I remember getting hit twice, once in the thigh, once in the ribs," He sits back up and twists at the waist slightly, gritting his teeth. "Yeah, still a bit tender."

I stand up, head to my locker. "Riley Finn," I say to the vocal recognition lock, with a quiet 'click' it pops open. I grab my clothes, green T-shirt, brown button down, blue jeans and belt and toss them on the bench.

"Well," he says, he walks to his locker and pulls his backpack from it. "I was planning on using the old 'Touch football game with the buds that went crazy' one. Think it'll still work?"

"Yeah," I reply pulling on my T-shirt. "That'll do, mind if I use it too? Can explain how we all got bruises if we back each other up."

I shake my head slightly, this kid has got a lot to learns. "Evens," I say, sighing slightly, "In terms of probability, no such precautions are not neccessary, but we don't deal with probabilities, we deal with possibilities. So even the possibility, no matter how remote is worth planning for. In other words, yeah, it could come to that."

I catch his eyes and stare at him without blinking. "Are we clear soldier?" I say quietly.

Instantly his bearing changes, shoulders back, spine stiff, standing at attention in the doorway with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Later Riley, gotta get to class." Evens waves and the door slides shut behind him.

I toss my fatigues in the locker, grab my books and shove them in my totebag. I head for the Prime Elevator that will take me directly to the frat house several stories above my head.

Exiting the Elevator I leave the frat house and make my way across campus to the Pychology dept. which is also run by Dr. Walsh. Pretty much the same way she runs The Inititiave. 'Bout the only difference is there I don't have to salute and all I have to deal with is bad papers, not some evolutionary throwback trying to gut me with its claws.

"Riley, of course," Dr. Walsh says, swiveling in her chair from her computer screen to face me, a warm, welcoming smile on her face. It's a little bit unerving watching this woman go from ruthless military commander to a polite, gifted…well…human being! "Have a seat, Riley," she gestures with a hand, inviting me to make myself comfortable.

You have to know Dr. Walsh like I do to see the command in the way she phrases it.

"Riley," she laughs slightly. "I'm not your mother, or some military ogre, no need to be so formal. Relax, tell me what's on your mind."

"Thanks Dr. Walsh," I lean back, cross my legs, the picture of a 'normal guy'. "It's about my…uh…study group, Dr. Walsh."

"One moment," she interupts me holding up her hand to stall any protest I might make. As if I'd contradict her openly!

Dr. Walsh reaches under the desk and I hear a hight whine that quickly climbs beyond my ability to hear it. Dr. Walsh now sits at her desk, her fingers steepled, her eyes looking steadily into mine.

I uncross my legs and sit up straight, again utalising the practice of staring over her shoulder without wavering and not meeting her eyes.

"Is this personal, Agent Finn?" Dr. Walsh asks, looking at me over her steepled fingers.

"I'd prefer my second-in-command, Agent Gates, were to replace me since I have been placed on special assignment." I say briskly. "Agent Gates is a good man, he knows the rhythms of the team and-"

"Isn't fit to command a pre-school recess." Dr. Walsh interupts me again, her voice laced with derision.

Her tone nearly makes me forget myself, I almost glance at her but I resist the urge. "Oh don't mistake me, Agent Finn," Dr. Walsh continues, leaning foward slightly. "Agent Gates is an excellent soldier, quick to obey orders, follows them through to the letter and can get the objectives completed with admirable effenciancy, but, even you, Agent Finn, have to admit that he likes the err…" Here she pauses and raises her eyebrows slightly. "Physcial aspects of his job a bit too much."

I give a mental shrug, she does have a point. Forrest can be a little to eager for some rough and tumble from time to time.

"Agent Freeman scored second highest in Command Simulations durning the Inititiaves trial, he held himself in esteem while commanding Beta Squad. Your men will be in good hands." Dr.Walsh says turning back to her computer and then she resumes typing. "You have your assignment Finn, carry it out."

"Oh, and Riley?" Dr. Walsh turns again to face me. "Did you get those reports done?"

"Yeah Dr. Walsh," I smile back at her. This is wierd how we can just switch from military to cilivilan like this. Even I'm doing it.

"Oh this helps me out a lot." Dr. Walsh says, taking the papers. She scans the top one and makes a slight clucking sound. "Only a B Minus?" she asks rhetorically. "I expected better of this one."

"Well, that's that then." Dr. Walsh says turning her back to me, placing the papers on her desk. "Thanks again Riley, and take the afternoon off you still look a little beat up after your…er…football game?" she ventures.

"You're turning into an animal?" Mrs. Summers asks. She finished her orange juice a long time ago but she's still holding onto the empty glass so tightly her knuckles are white.

Buffy rolls her eyes. "No Mom, that's the exact opposite of what I'm trying to tell you."

"Doesn't sound like it to me," Mrs. Summers mutters, she lifts her glass to her lips to drink and, seeing its empty, places it back on the table. Buffy gets the attention of the waitress.

"Two orange juices, please," she says, holding up two fingers. "Anything you want Will?"

I'm so wrapped up in watching these two, daughter and mother, have their discussion I sorta forget that I'm actually part of the whole deal until Buffy asks me the question.

"Huh…what?" I jerk upright a little, then give an embarrassed smile. "Um…no…Buffy I'm alright, that is okay…fine with…my…." I hold up my half empty glass of coke. "See? Not empty. I'll wait till its empty," still smiling I nod my head at the waitress. "Thanks though."

The waitress smiles politly, jots down a few notes are her pad and dissapears into the back.

"Damnit," Buffy fumes, drumming her fingers on the table. "You weren't supposed to know about that part."

"I'm sorry," I squeak, "It just…storta slipped out, Buffy. You did say you didn't want to keep any secrets from your mother."

"Yeah, but Will," Buffy replies, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "There were some aspects of it that I'd have prefered we kept to ourselves! I mean, why not just tell my mother what we did last weekend?"

"I'd rather you didn't," Mrs. Summers says weakly. She's holding her head in her hands and massaging her temples, slowly.

"Why not, Mrs. Summers?" I query. "What's the big deal of two girls sharing…what was it Buffy? Four ice cream sundaes?"

"Five," Buffy replies nonchalantly. "It was five. And I don't think Mom wouldn't want to know about those Willow, rather what happened after."

Now I'm really confused. "Harrison Ford movie night? Your Mom's doesn't like Harrison Ford? How can anyone find fault with Indy?"

"You're a cutie," Buffy says leaning foward now and resting her elbows on the tables. "But sometimes you scare me, Will. My mother likes Harrison Ford just fine."

Glaring briefly at her mother before turning back to me Buffy continues, "I think she wouldn't be intrested in what happened after that," she says putting extra tension on the 'after'.

My brain catches up with my mouth at the very last second and I clap a hand over my mouth. "Nnnthnngg." I mumble.

"Buffy," Mrs. Summers says quietly. "You were assuring me you're not turning into an animal?"

"No," Buffy shook her haid violently, long her whipping around, the light from the window glistening in her clean and…darn. Got distracted. How does she do that to me anyways? "That's just it, Mom," Buffy continues. "I do know, I know its right and good. It works with me, works deep inside here," she places her hand over her heart. Hey, that's my job! "I just don't know how to convice you, or anybody else of it."

Mrs. Summers doesn't look like she's buying it. She's frowning slightly, staring at her only daughter without blinking. She doesn't say anything either. Buffy too has stopped talking and staring right back at her mother; a stalemate.

Nobody's saying anything, even in the normal humm of conversation from other customers seems to fade away. Neither woman is giving an inch in their beliefs. Mrs. Summers is depending on parental concern and, probably, yet another thing she can't understand about her daughter. Something else that puts Buffy just a little farther out of her reach; another factor of her daughters life that she can't share.

Wait a sec…is that…that…Mrs. Summers feelings or…uhm…maybe, maybe my own?

Buffy herself isn't backing down either. She's not going to either. Her lips are drawn across her face in a flast line, arms crossed across her chest, she's not blinking, she's so still she's not even breathing. Or doesn't look like it.

I guess I can understand her, she's been doing this for a long while now and one of the things thats kept her alive is her instincts. Okay, they're not flawless but…she trusts them. Heck, I trust em' too and…I guess that means that…

Both Mrs. Summers and Buffy turn to stare at me, Mrs. Summers looks a little surprised and Buffy's features have softened a bit.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say, Willow?" Mrs. Summers asks me. She's not staring staring at me, I mean not hard staring but she's not…she's being…uhm…she's just looking at me. A lot.

"I…I…said that I trust her, Buffy I mean, Mrs. Summers." I say again. I've got my fingers wrapped around each other under the table. I start sliding my thumbs together.

"She's…she says this is alright. That she's okay," I press on. "And I believe her. Cause…well…" I shrug helplessly. "She's happy."

"Yes happy." And now it's my turn to look at Mrs. Summers without flinching. "She, Buffy, hasn't had a great time…ever really and she's happy now. Happier then I've ever seen her. I mean, sure, she's had good times and bad times but there's…I dunno…" I lean back in my seat, brain whirling, trying to find how to express what I, myself have just realised. "There's always been this slight melencholy about her but…now…now there isn't anymore."

I glance at Buffy who's just looking back at me, her…I guess…she's looking at me softly. A small smile works at the corners of her lips and…and…hey! Is she blushing?

Yay me me me! Oh…no wait. That means I've humilated her in front of her mother, oh she's going to be so angry; Buffy hates being embarressed, I'll have to buy some chocolate ice cream to make it up to her! Yeah, chocoloate ice cream and…er…Oreos. Yeah, she'd like Oreos. And what else…

Buffy's fingertips gently sliding along my cheek distract me from my inner thoughts. She's leaning across the table and looking me right in the eyes. No, I guess she wasn't blushing, her eyes look kinda shiny. Oh God! I made her want to cry! Okay, TWO tubs of chocolate ice cream!

"I think, Willow," Buffy says, her voice sounds a little horse. "That you had something to do with me being happy."

Me and Buffy…are we going to start crying in the Internations House of Pancakes? This is a nightmare!

"Ahem," Mrs. Summers clears her throat. Buffy sits back down, quickly mouthing the words 'love you'. Mrs. Summers is looking at me so I give Buffy a wink.

"So, you can't explain exactly what's going on inside Buffy, but you're convinced that its a good thing, and you Willow," Mrs. Summers pauses and sorta…doesn't look at anything. I remain quiet then, "You trust what's going on? Is that about it?"

"It's a good thing, Mom," Buffy adds, she reaches across the table and grabs my hand. "So's this."

Mrs. Summers takes a deep breath, holds it and lets it out slowly. "Okay honey," she sits back in her chair. "This is something that has to do with the…other stuff and I guess I have to trust your judgement."

Buffy herself lets out a sigh, probably one of relief. I know I would in her place. "Thanks Mom. Hey, I am going to tell Giles about what's going on. I'm sure he's got some stuff on it buried in a book somewhere."

"And what if you learn that this…event…change…whatever," Mrs. Summers replies. "Isn't a good thing after all?"

Old habits die hard. Every time the stewardess, or another passenger walks down the aisle behind me my right hand clenches tight. The itch to have my best knife is unbearable. That's impossible though, my best knife was left behind in my cabin.

I hate this, I hate being off the earth, surrounded by steel and plastics. I'm starving for something to eat but the wave of nausea that hit me when they dropped their 'dinner' in front of me nearly had me running for the bathroom. It gets worse. To 'fit in' it was suggested I dress in more appropriate clothing. So now I'm sitting on a plane, in an environment that it totally foreign to me, and wearing clothing that was made from some synthetic nonsense. Alright its comfortable but there's the nagging feeling in my head, insisting that none of what I have on is actually real and if I move too fast it'll all go flying to pieces.

To cap it all off I'm surrounded by very ugly things. Destroyers, patient, evil, ruthless things that go about taking and taking and giving nothing back.

Okay, there's a small chance I'm being slightly extreme but I can't help the fact I don't like people. I particularly don't like people who come all the way out where I live, calling in old favors. I prefer it when people forget favors. I should have known better. These particular people don't forget anything. I doubt they've forgotten anything since that damn apple. Course they don't believe in that and, come to think of it, neither do I. So they came, with their damn accents, and attitudes and tell me I am needed.

They have a job for someone, how did they put it? 'A specific induvidual with a truly unique set of skills'. Why couldn't they just come up and asked like normal people.

I stare out the window at the clouds blocking out the land below, my idle fingers begin to drum on the armrest as I seek a hole, somewhere, in the cloud cover, something to reassure me that the ground is actually still there.

"Don't like flying?" Great. My seatmate finally got desperate enough to try and begin a conversation. It only took him, what, seven hours?

I sigh and turn away from the window, "Look, no offense or anything but you smoke too much, drink too much, your digestion sucks and that twenty four hour deodorant you're wearing? Yeah, it conked out about three hours ago. I generally don't like people and am not interested in small talk. Go away." I turn back to the window.

His face pales, maybe he's not used to being talked to like that. Well, if he doesn't like that, but wants to keep talking to me he better get used to it. I notice the 'fasten seat belt' sign activates and my ears pop. We're descending, must be landing soon.

I spin around and give him my 'look'. It's the hard stare that makes angry bears decide to find something else to bellow at, it's that gaze that pushes away fellow predators and prevents them from taking what's mine. It's the features of what I am and what I use to express my territory.

"No," I say, his breathing increases and I watch the pulse in his neck start to flutter. "I'm a hunter."

"No Mom, you don't have to come in with us, we'll be fine," Buffy says to her mother still inside her car. Mrs. Summers has given us a lift from the resteraunt to outside Giles house. We've been sitting here for a few minutes though while Mrs. Summers tries to…be motherly I suppose.

"Are you sure Buffy?" Mrs. Summers ask, being the concerned mother in every way and form. I think, cause its not like I saw it often from my own mother. "I mean I could lend…morale support. It was a bit of a shock but…I'm getting used to the idea. I could say something, I mean…be some sort of buffer?"

"Mom," Buffy says getting out of the car. "We'll be fine. I trust Giles and Xander and…"

"Anya," I fill in the blank, I open the car door and move to stand beside Buffy, unconsiously she reaches back to take my hand. To Mrs. Summers credit she doesn't take her eyes off her daughter. Not even a flicker.

"Yeah, Anya..uh…her. Well, I don't trust her trust her but I trust Xander to trust her so…" Buffy breaks off. "Does that actually make any sense?"

"Somewhat," Mrs. Summer smiles. "Alright honey, I'll be at the gallery if you need anything. Er…will you girls be spending the night? I can clean up the guest room or…if…you prefer…"

"Oh, alright dear." Mrs. Summers says weakly. "I said I was getting used to it. I'll keep at it, get all the way through, fast as I can."

Mrs. Summers looks at me, still smiling warmly. "You're very welcome Willow. I'll see you two this evening then, alright?

Putting her car in gear smoothly, something Buffy still has yet to master, Mrs. Summers pulls away from the curve. I can't help it, I wave until she's out of sight. I want to make a good first impression…but that doesn't make any sense 'cause I've known Mrs. Summers for years. Oh…uh…maybe I want to make a good first impression as her daughters girlfriend.

"Yes," Buffy replies without hesitation. "As sure as I love salty potato chips!"

"Hey, you did read King Lear," I reply. "I'm impressed. Sorta. The potato chips threw me."

"Don't admire me too much," Buffy says. She tugs at my hand gently and I follow, letting her pull me into an embrace. "Been wanting to do this all morning," she murmers. She pulls me close and wraps her arms around me, I do the same. She moves her hands up and down along my back and I sigh and let my head rest on her shoulder.

She's warm and soft, smells kinda good. Bit of residual syrup smell but…that's all good.

Reluctantly, cause I could stay in her arms all day, we let each other go, though I keep a firm grip on her hand, and head down the path to the Scoobie meeting.

Despite Dr. Walsh's assurances that Freeman can take care of my men, and the advice she gave me to take the afternoon off I still have a few misgivings about the whole thing.

In other words I'm mad as hell and trying to work through it by beating the body bag in the gym to death.

I circle the heavy bag warily, treating it like it was the most dangerous creature on the face of the earth, if I make single mistake it'll rip me to pieces. Alright, I might be projecting a little too much on a large, heavy, bag of hard rubber but…

I move in with a low jab that has all my weight behind it, if I'd hit a human with this it'd leave him doubled over, gasping for air as his lungs tried to refill with air, if I put all my strength behind it I'd probably crush his sternum.

I back off two steps, feet shuffling quickly, as if I'm trying to back out of range of any attempts at counterstrikes. Normally two steps would get me out of range but most of the things I go up against have longer limbs, so I back up another step quickly. Then I move in again.

I hunch down, center my gravity, feint left and then come up with the right to deliver a crushing overhand blow, again I keep the extention short and put my weight behind it. A blow like this, if connecting right, would shatter a mans jaw, or his nose depending on where I wanted it too go. Might even drive him to his knees.

I remember that thing in the dorm room, a blur of white and…eyes. I remember eyes. I wonder if I hit that thing like I'm pounding on the body bag would it even notice?

Alright this isn't helping me relax. If anything I'm getting angrier. Another left right sends the bag spinning away from me slowly, like a man reeling away from the fight, the setup is perfect. I step toward it, pivot and go for a spin kick.

I push the anger down, I squeese it from my mind, feeling the boost to muscles and speed, this will probably be the finest spin kick I've ever done. I can feel the wind wipping around me for that split second I'm in motion, the sweat gluing my shirt to my back and chest, halfway through the spin I bring my leg up, letting centrificul force accelerate me even further and, perfectly, the bulk of my shin and flat top of my foot connects with the side of the bag.

A loud crack echoes throughout the empty gym and the bag starts spinning madly. I imagine what a blow like that would have done to a man, probably have taken his head right off.

But I don't fight men, I fight monsters and last night a monster beat me, but not just me but four other men who could, maybe not beat me, but at least hold their own against me for a while. This thing, if had hit it with that most beautiful spin kick, would it have felt it? Would it have slowded down at all or would it have just ignored it, maybe just like I might ignore a mosquito.

I turn around to see Forrest leaning against the door frame clapping his hands slowly. He's got a cane leaning against his thighs, but seems, for the most part well enough.

"Forrest," I say, a grin splitting my face. "You're out? I'm surprised." I reach out to shake his hand which he accepts with a smile.

"Checked myself out bud; you know how it is Riley, the medcenter doesn't even get daytime TV and I could not miss my soaps." He jokes. I think.

He nods in the direction of the body bag still slowly spinning, "Anybody we know?" he asks.

"How about an incredibly fast, white blur that happened to obliterate us last night?" I reply.

Forrest continues nodding slowly. "I hear ya bud, I hear ya. The doc got anything in mind? Cause I'm eager for some payback." He slams his right fist into the palm of his left hand. "We know the bitch who lives in that room right? We going to…ah…intercept her maybe? For questioning?"

Maybe….just mmmaaaayybbbeee…Dr. Walsh wasn't that far off assigning Freeman to take over my squad. Forrest's eyes suddenly have a bit on a unhealthy sheen to them and his smile is just a bit too wide for my liking.

Forrest does a double take, "What?" His voice echoes off the walls. "Has command lost its mind? That little bitch is a traitor! She tried to help the fuckin' thing that did this to us Riley!"

"Yeah, I know Forrest, I know," I hold my hands up, trying to placate him. "But command has something else in mind. Dr. Walsh wants me to take this on solo."

"Why not just paste a sticker to your bald head reading, "Hi, I'm your handy, dandy, black op soldier, how can I help you today?'"

Forrest stares at me angrilly, but I meet his stare inch for inch, pound for pound. I'm right and he knows it, there's also the fact that I'm his superior officer.

"Damn straight I am," I nod. "Now look Forrest, I've been given some special assignment. Something like infiltration. We know who the girl in that room was and Doc Walsh wants me to…I dunno…become her friend or somthin'. Maybe even start something romantic."

"Science wants this thing bad," I explain. "Real bad and alive. You're probably right that this girl knows the thing and that's the link the doc wants to try and exploit. She doesn't want to take any chances with this HST getting away so that's why all this…" I wave my hand angrilly. "James Bond shit."

Forrest keeps staring at me for a bit before he shrugs. "Okay," he says. "Okay tactically I guess it makes sense. Don't mean I like it none."

"You and me both, bro." I sigh. Walking over to a nearby bench I grab my towel and begin wiping the sweat off my face.

Forrest hobbles across the gym and sits down on the bench next to the wall. So who is this girl anyhow?" he aks me.

"Rosenberg," I answer, still wiping my face. This keeps me from seeing his face. "Willow Rosenberg."

Then I put the towel down. Forrest is staring at me with a slightly manical grin on his face, then he begins to laugh, then his laugh grows to the point where it almost sounds forced. Every once in a while his laughter is interupted by his barely recognisable cries of 'Oh man.' and 'You're screwed buddy.' which just makes him laugh harder.

Forrest stares at me increduliously, a huge grin on his face. "You…you don't know?" he starts chuckling.

I bend down, grab him by his shirt collar off the ground and life him off the ground. "What the hell are you talking about, Forrest?" I want to shake him.

He just chortles a few times(Real men don't giggle.) and holds up his hands, "Hey man, relax, relax its just kinda funny. Put me down, I'll tell ya, I'll tell."

I set him on his feet and he's still snickering, finally he stops, sighs, snorts, and shakes his head once last time. "I'm not too sure bud, but…man you sure know how to pick em'…"

"Okay, okay," he says hasilty. "Look it's just rumor but…you sure her name is Willow Rosenberg?"

"S'just the grapvine," Forrest says still grinning at me. "Can't be sure man, can't be sure but the word out there is that your little girlfriend-to-be is taken."

"Yeah, so?" I answer. I don't HAVE to have a romantic relationship just to get possible info.

Forrest rolls his eyes, "She's gay numnutz boy, your precious little assignment is a carpet munching dyke!"

Disclaimer: All this belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Inc. (But I'm not sure that's such a good idea anymore.)

Buffy hasn't let go of my hand while she stares at the door. A few times she's reached out to knock on the wooden surface but always pulled her hand away at the last second. I could think of her as being a chicken but I haven't had the nerve to even try the door at all.

Once again Buffy slowly reaches out with her fist poised to tap gently on Giles door; I hold my breath.

With a heavy sigh Buffy lets her hand drop to her side. Casting a sidelong glance at me she grins and shrugs a bit. "Sorry," she mumbles. "I'm kinda nervous."

"What's to be nervous about?" I reply sarcastically. "We're only going to tell our friends that we're in love with each other. Two girls, you'll note please the total lack of an Y chromosome anywhere between the two of us! Something a great many people can get very bothered about for odd reasons. What's to be nervous about?"

Buffy looks at me for a few seconds without moving, than silently puckers her lips, pretending to whistle. "Oooohhkaaayyyy," she says slowly. "Been holding that in for a bit have we?"

"Well," I huff letting my shoulders slump. "I admit it: I'm scared Buffy. Scared lots." I let go of her hand and sit down on the edge of the little…garden…brick…square thingie in the middle of Giles' patio.

"That's just it," I say with a shrug. "I'm not sure. There's so many things that could go wrong with this." I clasp my hands in my lap and stare at them.

"I'm actually not," I answer seriously, turning to look at her. "What's bothering me regarding Xander is that I've known him all my life, right?"

"Yeah, exactly. Still, we grew up together an' everything, yet I have no idea how he'll take this…this.…" I stutter a bit, I'm trying to think of some one word to phrase everything; 'Situation' doesn't cut it, too…cold and analytical; love, while a lot better, doesn't cover Buffy's brand new nocturnal activities.

"That bothers you, huh?" Buffy says. "Not knowing how your oldest friend will react to the idea that you're now amorously engaged with another of female?"

I smile at her use of words, sometimes she likes to show off a bit. Not many know what a smartie Buffy can be, "Wonderfully amorous," I say. Then I turn more serious, "That's another thing."

"What?" Buffy asks. "You can tell me, y'know. Won't breathe a word to anyone." She puts her arm around my shoulders and gives me an affectionate squeeze. I rest my head on her shoulder. I don't think about it, I just do it. It feels good too.

"Well," I say slowly drawing it out. "I'm…kinda wondering what this, our…" My voice trails away, phrasing my concerns is a lot harder than I thought it would be. "Because I'm in love with a woman does that mean I'm gay?"

Buffy's eyebrows shoot right up above her hairline. "Jeeze, Willow," she mutters. "I dunno."

Buffy is silent for a moment, she kicks her ankles against the brick seat she's on a few times.

Finally she says, "Well, how about this," she begins. "What if you were in the same room as Catherine Zeta Jones?"

"Y'know who I mean," Buffy says, poking me. "That black haired woman in that Sean Connery movie we saw a few weeks back? They both play cat burglars?"

Buffy hops to her feet and spins to face me. "She's about, oh I guess yea tall," she says holding her hand about six inches above her head. "Long black hair, that reeeeeaaallllyyy kinda curvy body that guys go crazy over?" She waves her hands in the air in the making the motion of a stereotypical hourglass figure that guys always make, usually at tables in smoky bars after drinking lots of beer if all those movies I've seen are right.

"Back to my original question," Buffy says, resuming her seat next to me. "What if you were in a room with her and she was getting all slinky."

"Slinky?" My eyebrows are going scrunchy. So's my stomach. I think I know where this is going.

She covers my eyes with her hand so I have to close my eyes, "Cozy tiny room lit by candlelight," Buffy says, holding her hand in place. "And she's sprawled over the bed, wearing this flimsy bit o'nothing. She's calling to you, 'Wiiilllooowww' she purrs. How do you feel about that picture?"

"I feel that I should be asking you about this Catherine Zeta Jones, not the other way around." I reply indignantly, pulling her hand away from my face and opening my eyes.

"Ha, ha," Buffy says sarcastically, leveling an even stare at me. "Funny, now I'm being serious here." She sits back down beside me. "This starlet, who has umpteen fanboys all over the world drooling over her and probably downloading fake nudies, wants you. Do you want her?"

I lean my head against Buffy's shoulder again, she lifts her arm and puts it over my shoulder making the impromptu pillow much more comfy. I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Would I want to sleep with Catherine Zeta Jones? If she's who I think she is I can see why she'd be so popular. Got those big black eyes, long shiny dark hair. Smooth skin and a fab body. Dark, bloody full lips perfect for nibbling on and….

And then Buffy's face is in my mind and the mental portrait of Ms Jones, the hussy, is blown to pieces.

"No," I sit up and stare directly into Buffy's eyes. "No I wouldn't. This woman is really nice looking I suppose but…but she's not you."

"Okay," Buffy nods slowly, not taking her eyes off me. Her hands reach out and take mine. "Now, is there any other person you can think about who makes you feel all funny inside? Male or female, any at all?"

Again I sigh, not because I don't know the answer but because now, hovering in my minds eye, is Oz. I can see him, his changing hair color, and the way his eyes only seemed to have any expression in them when he was looking at me. I can even hear his voice, the first time he made me laugh, 'I mock you with my monkey pants!' he said. He was talking about animal crackers.

I can feel my lips turning up a bit at the memory. Its comforting remembering him and this sensation reminds me of another time. When I was packing up for college I was going through the back of my closet and I stumbled across my old teddy bear that I hadn't seen for years. I picked him up and while holding him, sat on my bed and told him everything that had happened to me since I had last seen him. I remember how I kept on burying my face in his furry tummy, remembering how he had smelled. The same smell that helped me feel safe when he was my only defense from nightmares. But afterwards, when I had finished telling him about my life I brushed him off, put him back in his drawer, made sure he was comfy and put him away.

"Oz was like my old teddy bear," I say dreamily. "I remember him fondly but he's comfy in a drawer in the back of my closet at home."

"Don't be silly," I say slapping her on the arm, ow. "I meant my teddy bear! Oz was good, he was first and I don't have any regrets, but you're now and we're forever." I give her hands a squeeze.

"Is it," Buffy's grin is practically splitting her face in half. "So…if I was the exact same person except burdened with a Y chromosome, big bulging muscles and could pee standing up, would you still love me?"

"Ugh, thanks ever so much!" I say making a face. "I don't even want to try to picture that."

I'm not sure Buffy can hear me, she's laughing too hard. I wait for a minute till she quiets down and reach out and touch her cheek with my finger.

"I don't know what it is exactly, Buffy," I say carefully. "I can't picture you as being anything else than what you are. Its a combination of who and what, everything packaged together; your appearance, how you think, what you do, what and how you feel, all of it, so closely meshed together that where one begins and the other ends is…just…. Can't see it," I cup her cheek in my hand and caress the skin with my fingertips, tucking an errant piece of hair behind her ear. Buffy closes her eyes and murmurs her approval, pushing against my touch, demanding more contact. "All I can see is the whole thing, the complete Buffy." I finish.

"That's all I can see of you," Buffy whispers opening her eyes. "The total Willow experience."

"Just like mine is yours," she whispers back to me, moving closer to me, her eyes fluttering shut.

Nothing strange is going on, just wonderful things; like Buffy's lips, how soft they are and pliable, how I can feel the teeniest, tiniest part of the tip of her tongue, an teensy spot of heat flickering out to just gently tease against my own lips. How her hair slides between my fingers when I'm holding her face in my hands; the nails of her one hand scraping the skin on the back of my neck gently, making everything tingle. Her other hand pressed against my chest, the warmth of her palm seeping through my clothes so I can feel it all the way to my heart.

Then her mouth opens slightly, she murmurs "More," and everything falls away until its just me, with Buffy. Holding Buffy close and feeling her body pressed against mine, smelling Buffy; the clean vanilla scent of her skin flowing around me, intoxicating me thoroughly; tasting Buffy, the remains of her syrupy breakfast and her own natural flavor just zipping along my taste buds. She pulls away slowly and I lean after her, wanting more, chasing the source of the zipples, needing more zipples to satisfy me, though that can never truly happen.

I open my eyes and I see Buffy, her face flushed, blood rushing to her cheeks, a slight sheen along her upper lip, those lips slightly parted and air rushing between them as her rapid breathing slows eventually. Her eyes bright, shiny and beautiful, I don't think it's because of the sugar rush either.

Buffy pulls me into another hug; her arms wrapped around me hold me tight, her chin resting on my shoulder a comforting, welcome, weight. "Always," she whispers in my ear.

The door latch clicks open and Buffy and I have just enough time to leap a reasonable distance apart before it swings open. Giles stands in the doorway dressed in blue jeans and a gray button down. He's holding a cup of tea.

"Sure thing, Giles," Buffy says, a rather panicked rictus on her face. "We just got here ourselves, didn't have time to reach the door."

"Ah," Giles pauses for a few seconds. "I thought I heard a," he pauses again, his brows knit in confusion. "Some sort of scream? Did either of you hear it?"

"Um," I um. My face is getting a bit hot, not just cause of embarrassment. "That was me Giles. Sorry, Buffy was…just…um…."

"Telling her about this cutie I saw on campus," Buffy interrupts quickly. "Red hair, nice body, big expressive eyes. Has the most squeezeable ass. Willow got a little embarrassed at the ass squeezing part."

Oh jeeze, I know we're going to tell them everything but…oh man, oh jeeze Buffy, not cool. Not cool at all! Funny though.

"Oh," Giles says. The hand holding the cup of tea hasn't moved. "I see," Pause. "I think."

"I'd rather not, thank you very much," Giles replies in a pained voice. "Won't the two of you come in? Xander is here already as well as his…"

When Giles pauses a whole slew of possible adjectives swoops across my mind. Many the type a good Jewish girl doesn't think about. I think about them anyway.

"Yes, well said, Willow." Giles replies, "His girlfriend, Anya, she's here too."

"Lead the way, Giles." Buffy says. "Let's get this Scooby meeting underway, got lots to tell."

"Yeah," I say, my voice sounds very weak, and this reflects my state of mind nicely. "Lots."

Giles wordlessly steps aside and motions for us to enter with a sweeping gesture of his free hand. As I walk by I notice him studying my face, guess he noticed my war wound. I smile at him and shake my head slightly; wordlessly saying, 'It's nothing, I'm fine.'

"Buffster! And her the ever-present partner in non-crime related activities, Willow!" Xander says loudly when we walk in. He's sitting on the sofa, and lying with her head in his lap is Anya. I've never really liked Anya considering the whole ex-demon thing but…Well, Xander seems to like her and who am I to question or have much of an opinion on his choices of love interest considering the nuclear class whammy me an' Buffy are about to drop on him.

It has been a while since I last saw my oldest friend and a slight guilt pang rockets through my chest; a little like a cramp but not as much fun. I haven't been avoiding him or anything but I haven't seen him for…oh…nearly three weeks! Me, his buddy who, at one time, spent the better part of her continuing life around and now…oh he's not going to be happy.

"Which one, Will?" He asks looking up at me. "Had a couple since Buffy went all Mowgli on us."

"You worked at the same job?" Buffy jumps into the conversation, with a look of surprise on her face. I guess I look the same, I'm certainly surprised that Anya had found gainful employment.

"Of course not," Anya says giving us Buffy a pitying look. "He works and I get to sit in his basement and watch TV. There are no good shows on, all these silly programs where women complain about how their men are never faithful and cheat on them with other women. Then the other woman comes on and the two of them yell at each other, very often coming to fisticuffs over the male in question."

Anya shrugs, saying matter-of-factly, "These are very foolish women when its very obvious the two of them should join together and enact their vengeance on the man."

Xander notices Buffy and I staring at him at the end of Anya's little tirade. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other helplessly. "She found Jerry Springer," He explains briefly, his voice a quiet mumble.

"Anya's daytime television aside," Giles interjects from where he's now sitting in 'his' chair. "We are all together again and you said you have some news for us Buffy?"

"Yeah, quite a bit actually," Buffy says carefully. She's playing it close to her chest, not giving anything away. That or she's just scared to death, I would be the latter. No, I am the latter, which is why I'm just sitting on the floor cross-legged not saying anything and not looking at nobody.

Xander leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Is it Hellmouthy?" he asks an almost eager expression on his face. "Some great threat that can only be averted by research, sacrifice and ignoring finical obligations altogether?"

Buffy gives a small pained smile, "I'm…well…that could be part of…I'm not really sure," she stutters, not looking Xander in the eye.

"Hmmmm," Xander hmmm's. Resting his chin on his clasped fists he taps his steepled index fingers against his upper lip in an exaggerated caricature of…oh…lots of classic movie villains. "Well," he says. "Let me guess. There's some sort of nefarious plot by the denizens of hell to steal the Colonel's secret blend of eleven herbs and spices?"

"No, that's not it then." Xander mutters to himself. "How about conspiracy brewing that will culminate in a secret agreement between the Council and demons to give the town of Sunnydale to Hell in return for some sort of twisted peace treaty?"

"I dunno Giles," Buffy says with a small grin. "You never can tell, but no Xander that's not it either. It's actually a bit more complicated than that."

"Hm." Xander gives a small grunt and leans back on the sofa while crossing his legs. "Well ladies, I'm stumped then. Unless you two have declared your undying love for each other, plan to run off to Switzerland to get married and then move to New Guinea to raise bunnies I don't know what's going on."

All the muscles in my body instantly lock solid and Buffy looks like she just got nailed between the eyes with a large rock. Well, not really because her eyes are still open and there's no big, gaping wound in her head with blood running down her…. ahem…Her eyes are wide open and staring straight ahead, other than that she's not moving a bit. Not even her chest rises anymore, like she's carved out of stone. She looks like me, I can't move, can't think anything else but OH NO over and over again in my head.

Xander, totally unaware of what he's done keeps talking, "That's nothing strange though," he says. I wish he'd shut up, I really do. "Lots of people have told me rather constantly I never know what's going on." He shrugs.

The silence just goes on and on, Buffy not moving, or saying anything, me neither, my hands have gone rigor morty with my fingers clasped together in my lap and they seem so heavy. My hands are heavy; I have heavy hands and its starting to hurt!

Slowly, like its the only joint she has left, Buffy's turns to look at me. She doesn't blink only opens her mouth slightly. Then she closes it, and then her lips part again. Her lips are so dry, I can see cracks in her lips because of the dry skin and that confuses me because just a minute ago when we were kissing outside her lips seemed so soft and moist. Now they're dry, I have to wonder how that happened.

"Uh," Buffy says, her quite noise startles me. I jump; just a teensy bit but I jerk, startled by her sound, her trying to talk. Like a gunshot in a library.

"And.…" now I speak up, it must be happening by itself because I know for a fact that its impossible for me to speak right now. So my mouth must have taken over, yes, that's right my mouth has launched a successful coup. "And…It's a little too soon for marriage."

"Yeah," Buffy nods in agreement. "Definitely too soon for marriage. Sides…Switzerland…brr…cold."

Yes you do, Buffy nods at me. "But not enough to want to go to Switzerland I hope,"

"So," Buffy says turning to look at Xander, "Except for the thing about New Guinea and…the…uh…marriage and…uhm…and uh…Switzerland, you're…uh…that you're…um…." she fumbles it and my treasonous mouth picks up the ball.

"Wow that's great!" Xander says with a huge grin on his face. "Didja hear that An? They said I was right about something." He pauses. "About what exactly I'm not-"

"Xander," Giles. He says it, cutting off Xander with a word and just the weight of his authority. He carefully sets his cup of tea on a nearby table and leans forward in his chair slightly. Clasping his hands together Giles stares at us and Buffy stares back at him. She must be feeling threatened because her shoulders just became stiff. Her face has lost all expression and her eyes are not letting in any light; they're just a flat, clear blue.

Giles look isn't hostile or angry, there's no ferocity, no narrowing of his lips or angling of his eyebrows. He just looks and looks hard. Its a focused stare but with no trace humanity or empathy anywhere. How British of him.

With a great shuddering gasp my need for air reasserts itself. I…I don't like this, this not being mean but still not nice to be around thing between Giles and Buffy, I want to get out, I want to leave! This was a mistake. Maybe if we'd had time to say it how we wanted to say it I'd feel okay but we couldn't say it because Xander said it, and he said it wrong!

I need comfort, I need a safe zone, something and again, without real prompting from my, admitably, useless conciseness, my body takes control by using my hands without my say so; I'm reaching forward, my hands are cold and empty and that's usually okay, the empty part. I mean my hands spend a good amount of time being empty though they also spend time holding things. Pens sometimes, or food but now they're empty and I've very, very aware of that and don't like it. It doesn't help that they're cold.

Buffy doesn't look at me, but she knows, somehow she knows. Her hand is there to take mine and the hungry empty feeling in my hand vanishes, her fingers are strong and wrapped around mine, they're warm too so the cold goes away. It's such a nice thing I can't help but let out a contented sigh. Buffy's eyes flicker and she looks at me and everything is suddenly fuzzy. The insecurities that had pushed by tummy into a ugly, heavy, cold steel gray ball in my guts are blown away and I feel ever so much better. In that split second, that Buffy's eyes are on me, I know everything is going to be okay. Her eyes are deep, and the flat pale blue falls away for an instant to be shimmering and light, like the surface of the ocean on a summer day. Her expression doesn't actually change when Buffy glances at me but I know, inside, that she smiled.

Her gaze switches back to meet Giles, who hasn't moved, and the weight of her expression has doubled. Giles doesn't…surrender exactly. It's not a conflict really, I think. I'm thinking a question is being asked, without actually being spoken. I'm not stupid, I'm pretty sure what the question is and what Buffy's answering with. Giles must be satisfied then because he looks away and picks, again, his cup of tea.

He takes a careful sip and makes an unpleasant face. "Cold tea," he mutters, with a slight shake of his head. "Distasteful."

Giles lets out a sigh, not a regretful one, or a tired one, just a normal sigh, maybe with a tinge of 'This is not what I expected when I woke up this morning-itis' behind it, but it's a pretty basic sigh. "Then you have my support," he says in his soft voice, the one he uses when he's trying to emphasize how important something is by understating it. "And, if it is welcome, my blessing."

Buffy's smile lights up…well not the room. My lover is the Slayer, not a GE Soft-light. But…but in all fairness I have to say, were a few lights not on, and if the sunlight wasn't coming through the window I could probably read a book by the light of her grin. I am partial though, it could be that.

"Ahem," It's a quiet sound but its devastating. Someone simply clearing there throat yet its…not.

He's standing now; I didn't see him get up. His fists are clenched; he's glaring. He's glaring at us, but he's 'specially glaring at me. Xander's not a glaring person and I'm happy about that because he's really, really good at it. I wish he wasn't because now he's glaring at me and, even though Buffy's still holding my hand, the cold is creeping back into my guts; they're going cold and tight.

"Xander-" Buffy and Anya, behind him still sitting on the sofa starts to say, but he shakes his head, cutting them off.

"I…" I try and say something but I can't. My throat won't let me make the words and my tongue is flat and heavy on the bottom of my mouth. It feels like the time I wondered if peanut butter could glue a tongue down as well as it usually glues them to the roof of the mouth. I made an experiment. It did. My tongue feels like I decided to repeat that experiment.

Not taking his eyes off me, off us, off the two of us holding hands Xander carefully steps around the sofa then he turns his back to us and walks to Giles' front door. Anya gets up to chase him. "Xander!" she calls after him. He waves her off, not looking back at her, a 'leave me alone' gesture. He opens the door, steps through the doorway and is gone. Anya runs to the doorway and shouts after him. "Xander! What's wrong?"

There is no answer. Anya gives me an' Buffy a confused look before turning back to the doorway.

"Xander, I don't understand," she shouts out the open doorway. "So Buffy and Willow want to have sex with each other, what's wrong with that?"

"You're late," He says in an offhanded way, his accent making it sound like 'yoor layte'.

"Would you care for anything?" He asks gesturing to the menu laying unopened beside him. "This establishment is rather good, I'll have you know. I rather enjoy their selections of pasta."

"No." I shake my head. Our table is in a corner, the walls are paned glass on the top floor of a two-story building. The sun is high in the sky; hanging there master of its environment with no clouds to deny its power. Similar rooftops, all the exact same color can be seen all lined up, all in neat orderly rows, screaming out to all the diners that this is the ultimate progress of mankind. Identical houses, identical families, identical incomes.

"You know why we called for you?" My contact asks, placing his napkin in his lap.

His timing in impeccable, soon a waiter comes sweeping by with a large platter heaped with steaming pasta. Rivulets of yellow butter slide and ooze between the cracks and valleys of that Italian mountain. Cheese sauce drips from one strand to the next like a coagulating bond, the odors attack; I wrinkle my nose while my stomach lurches. Disgusting. The waiter leaves promptly after wishing the gentleman 'bon appetite'. Was he kidding?

"You want me to hunt something," I reply after the waiter moves suitably far away; probably to offer another platter of this garbage to some other fool.

"Someone." He corrects, twirling his fork in the pasta glue he gathers up a large ball of the gunk and shovels it into his mouth. He sighs in satisfaction as he chews it and, eventually, swallows. I study the passing cars intently but I can still hear the chewed pasta sliding down his throat. I don't think my hearing is good enough to hear it splash in his stomach but I can imagine all the noxious gasses it will release into his system. I squirm uncomfortably is my seat. I hope I can get out the blast radius before it goes critical.

"The Slayer actually," he continues around another mouthful of pasta. I thought the British were supposed to be very polite.

"Oh she is," he says, and takes a small sip of his wine. Wiping his mouth with the napkin he continues. "But this one is rather difficult. She has rejected our advice and now works alone."

I move to stand up, "I don't care what debt I owe you," I snarl. "I don't do wetwork!"

"Please," he says giving me a smile that I've seen in on a hundred different faces, usually a split second before I smash them in, this one time I have to restrain myself. "Let me clarify, we don't want you to do anything like that. You have my word."

"We don't need your services for anything distasteful such as your perceived wetwork," he says quietly.

He doesn't rise to the bait, just has another sip of his wine. "This Slayer has recently acquired a problem, one that only we can help her with."

"One that is none of your business." He replies flatly. "However I can tell you that it is a detrimental condition, one that will eventually kill her if we do not intervene."

He does the fork twirl, eat pasta routine again. "She does not trust us," he says after swallowing.

He ignores my insult and continues speaking. "If we came forward to offer our services she would not accept them." He pauses then smiles at some internal joke. "Her pride would be her downfall, if we were not generous enough to step in and force the situation."

"The Slayer, one Buffy Summers currently attending Sunnydale University," he pauses. "Rather humorous don't you think? A Slayer seeking higher education, as if there is anything she needs to know that we cannot teach her." I'm hoping that was a rhetorical question.

"Be that as it may," he says scooping up some sauce on a piece of garlic bread, ugh. "You are to intercept her, capture her and bring her to us unharmed; and we mean completely unharmed. So no drugs."

"Hold it," I say holding up my hand to interrupt him. "I know the stories, on a physical level Slayers are supposed to be meanest things on the block and you're saying I can't use a simple dart gun?"

"There must be no residual drugs in her system for our cure to work." He says shaking his head. His tone is like somewhat explaining something simple to an errant child.

"Well," Again he wipes his mouth, this time with the back of his hand. "One of the side effects of her condition is an increase in bestial behavior."

"She acts like an animal, a predator. You can outthink an animal can't you? You are a hunter after all." Again the 'Please Hit Me Smile'. I really want to oblige.

"All right," I say standing up. "I'll do it but after this the scales are even. I'm done with you and yours, got that?"

I stalk away from the table leaving him to finish his lunch, if there's any justice he'll have a heart attack right there but my luck doesn't work that way. "Oh, er…happy hunting!" he calls after me.

After Xander runs away nobody says anything except for Anya, she whines a bit about losing her XanderPillow and where can she rest her head now but a Giles Glare quiets her down.

Buffy stands up and pulls me to my feet, which is good because I don't think I could stand up on my own. Giles is ignoring the two of us staring at a book and trying to not notice anything peculiar going on and that the two women, with their faces inches apart, are in no way behaving out of sorts. He'd look a lot more convincing if he wasn't holding the book upside down.

Anya has seated herself in front of Giles dilapidated television and is seeking some sort of entertainment. Since Giles doesn't have cable though, there's nothing worth watching.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to no one in particular. I don't know why I do it, just seems like the right thing to do.

"Hush," Buffy whispers, she runs a finger along the bridge of my nose, a romantic gesture meant to comfort but I don't feel anything. I know she did it because I saw her do it, not because I felt it. "Don't apologize," she keeps whispering, "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I feel like I did," I sniff, I don't want to cry but I'm thinking it'll happen no matter what. "Xander hates me. I made him feel that way, so I did something wrong, don't you see?"

"Xander doesn't hate you," Buffy admonishes me, the words hissing between clenched teeth. The fierceness of her tone is enough to get my attention and I blink a few times, willing the tears away so I can focus on her.

"How can you know?" I press the issue. Taking me by the shoulders Buffy walks me to the sofa and I sit down, I manage to do that on my own. She sits besides me, putting her face only a hairsbreadth from my right ear. "Don't tell anyone," she whispers to me and that makes me blink, tell anyone what? "I could smell his fear," Buffy finishes.

"Nonononono," Buffy says hastily, "Not of you, of the change…I think. He'll come around, don't worry."

"You won't," Buffy assures me, she grabs me in a one armed embrace and again strokes the length of my nose with her other hand. This time I feel a little. "Though he'll have some major apologizing to do. Now, I have to talk to Giles about those guys who attacked us, you going to be okay?"

She kisses me quickly on the cheek and turns to face Giles who has intently ignored us the entire time. He's still holding the book wrong way around though. They quickly begin talking about stuff but my attention isn't focused on them. It's nowhere really, except maybe on my hands. They're resting on my knees and they can't seem to keep still. First the little finger on my right hand starts to twitch and I stop that, so my left thumb starts to tapping a beat to a song I hate, why is it when emotions are going crazy you can only remember the music you can't stand?

I quickly decide that Anya is as good at channel flipping as any male and getting the controller from her will probably be about as hard. I stand up and Buffy glances at me.

"No," I shake my head. "I'll be okay just-" I pantomime someone using a remote control. Buffy grimaces slightly and nods her head.

"Willow," Giles says. "I'll want to speak to you later in case Buffy missed anything in her telling of your attackers."

"Not much to remember," I say with a shrug. "They came in, I got hit, and everything went black. That covers it. I'll be right outside."

And before anyone can say anything else, to ask me if I'm sure for the umpteenth time, see if I want a coke, need a moment to myself, or anything else of an endless assortment of useless platitudes I'm out the door, shutting it behind me quietly.

I sit back down on the brick, garden thing where Buffy and I had our heart to heart not half an hour ago. Funny, it seems a lot longer. The sun is directly overhead but not very harsh, there's enough of a canopy from the trees in the corners to soften it so I'm not uncomfortable, not on the outside at least.

I watch the branches sway a bit as a small breeze blows between the buildings, the branches wave back and forth and a single leaf falls away, its a yellow leaf, different from the others. They're still green and this one is yellow. I watch it fall, float really, spinning, tumbling, blown about this way and that way but always down till it lands on the cement, and all over the ground are other yellow leaves but no green ones. They're all still on the tree.

I spin around and Xander is standing there. He looks miserable, his hands clasped behind his back, shoulders slumped, nibbling at the corner of his lip, he's staring at his shoes too.

"You, y'know…you can…uhm," I stutter, swallow and start over. "It's okay to have the eye contact thing, Xander. I'm kinda used to it."

He blushes a bit, and raises his head so he's looking at me. "I…wanna apologize. I reacted…"

"That's not it," he shakes his head. "I mean, yeah I did, sure walking away and everything but…I wasn't angry Will, that's the thing."

"You weren't angry…then," I reply slowly. "Why the glare, turn, walk out, slam door bit?"

"Hey," Xander objects a little loudly. He flushes slightly and continues in his normal voice, "I didn't slam the door, that was Anya."

"You still glared," I say shaking my finger at him. "I don't like it when you glare, Xander. It made me feel terrible, like I had done something wrong."

Xander doesn't say anything for a few seconds, just stares at me. He's thinking about something, what to say next, it's easy to tell cause he lips quiver like he's pretending to speak what he's thinking. Finally he stops and shuffles across the patio to sit down on the brick thingie, I sit down next to him.

"Actually," he says very slowly. "I kinda am thinking you did do something wrong."

I try to leap to my feet, I plan on leaping to my feet, spinning around and knocking him silly but he keeps talking, very rapidly at this point.

"No, not what you're doing," he says quickly. "That's fine I mean it's okay with me…and no that's not right, I don't have a problem. Damnit I hate political correctness!!" He fumes.

"Okay, okay," he says holding out his hands trying to buy some time. "Gimmie a second."

"One. one thousand," I growl. I'm still tempted to stand up and do something violent. Just a little violent.

"How literal," he replies, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Look, I'm not upset at you and Buffy being together and where would I get off being upset in the first place? Its not my life, you're not my kids or anything like that and even if you were it'd still be your own lives. So the you and Buffy thing great, I mean why not?"

"I'm so happy you approve," I mutter with my teeth clenched. I lean forward, getting a little bit into Xander's personal space. "How does this make me doing something wrong?"

"Now, just hear me out," he says, again with the placating hands only I'm in no mood to be placated.

"Alexander Harris!" I think I shout, maybe I just hiss it fiercely. I do know I stand up this time. "A lot has happened and I'm just sorting it out for myself, it's confusing and wonderful and scary and new and a lot of other things that I can't phrase right now but, should I be able too, the next time something similar happens I'll write you a memo!"

Xander, to his credit, takes it on the chin. "Okay," he says after mulling for a second. "I deserved that and I know that it's unreasonable of me to expect you to tell me, I know it's not fair to be hurt simply because you kept mum for a bit. I know that here," he taps his temple. "But I don't know it here," and he taps his chest. "Or if I do, then it's not listening."

"And what about my hurt?" I snap back at him. It's not as vehement as before though, he's got a bit of a point, and I have been kinda scarce with the sharing. But…but that's what we're doing now, Buffy and I, I mean what we're trying to do.

"You glared Xander!" I say shaking my head. "You glared at me! It was a mean glare, a…a…very mean glare. A 'I don't like Angelus' glare. But it was at me!"

I start pacing back and forth in front of him still ranting. "It was me you were giving an Angelus class glare too! That hurt, and then you walked away, you walked away from me, metaphorically and literally turning your back on me, on us! On the Buffy and me us thing! How do you think that made me feel?" I finish turning in place to face him.

He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small carton of Ben & Jerry's Cookies and Cream.

I glance at him and can't help but smile a bit. "Bribery will get you anywhere." I say dipping my finger into the cold yummy. I lick the ice cream off my finger. "Mmmmm."

I put the lid back on, and put the ice cream carton down on the brick thing. "I don't know," I say crossing my arms. "I…I didn't mean to not tell you"

"I didn't not tell you, I mean that's why we're here, to tell." Again I begin pacing. "You're my oldest friend, Xander and…it just…I was really concerned about how you'd take the news about me and Buffy and your actions confirmed my worst fears. And we're…we're like this!" I say twisting my pointer and middle finger around each other. "What about others? Others who I don't know so well? Like…uh…" I let my hands drop to my sides. "Like my parents?"

Xander stands up and walks besides me. He takes my hand and looks me in the eyes. "I don't know, Willow," he says. "But I do know that I'll be there for you, no matter what. Whenever or however you need me. When you tell your parents, to hide you from your parents or anybody else if I have too. I'll always be there because as you said," and he holds up his other hand with the fingers wrapped around each other. "We're like this."

"I'm really sorry," he continues saying. "I've never…" he shakes his head. "I've never had a gay friend before."

"No!" I say loudly pulling my hands away from him and taking a step back. "That's not it at all Xander! Don't you understand? I haven't changed! Okay, I don't really care for male companionship in the romantic sense anymore, but I'm still Willow! Don't you get that?"

I settle for walking around him, sitting down on the brick thing and grabbing the ice cream carton. Taking off the top I eat another finger full of ice cream. Minty.

"Uh." Xander replies. "Willow, you're a woman and Buffy's a woman, doesn't that sorta…I mean…don't you think you're gay?"

"Mine!" I say fiercely. "Anyhow, I don't think I'm gay because I know I don't want to sleep with Catherine Zeta Jones."

That throws him. Xander stands there, blinking slowly. "That's…uh…that's good," he says. "I think she's married to Michael Douglas anyways."

Xander shrugs. "Hollywood types. Who can figure em'?" he sits down again, I'm careful to keep the ice cream out of reach though. "So…I offended again with the 'gay' thing?"

I shake my head and hold up a hand, asking for time to swallow my current mouthful of ice cream. "No," I gasp. Wow, that's cold. Good, but COLD!! "Its the idea that the label comes first before me."

"First off," I tick one finger. "I'm not sure I'm gay and by that I mean I'm not sure if I'd be interested in any other woman save Buffy, maybe, maybe not. The current situation is that I am in love with a person named Buffy Summers who happened to be born with two X chromosomes rather than an X and a Y chromosome." I finish off with a mild glare, daring him to say anything. Xander is wisely silent.

"Second," I tick off another finger. "Even if I knew I was a totally gay person, having nothing to do with the male gender forever that still doesn't mean I'm your gay friend. It means I am your friend who also happens to be gay! Can't you understand that?"

Xander scratches his chin a bit and peers off into the distance thoughtfully. "I think so," he says. "It's like I don't have a ex-demon girlfriend, I just have a girlfriend who was once a demon. But…" he turns to me. "Isn't this getting a little close to political correctness? That which you have claimed to hate?"

"I dunno," I answer with a shrug. I take another spoonful of ice cream and chew. "Ith juth tha," I swallow. "It's just that I'm Willow, Xander. I don't want you to think of me as 'Now-Gay-Willow' or even 'Now-Sleeping-With-Another-Woman-Willow'. Does that match up?"

"Well yeah, sure!" Xander says. "But that's also the impossible dream, Wills. Everybody wants to be valued for who they are and not limited to what labels people slap on em'. But people are gonna think of you as gay when, not if, when they find out about you and Buffy."

I nod, he's right but he missed the point. "You missed the point Xander. I know all that and I'm fully prepared to expect it, but I don't want it from you, from family. You know me, I know you. You could go out and…I dunno…" I lick some ice cream off the wooden spoon. "Go out and become…become…"

"Okay, a star." I reply with a shrug. "But while all the new friends you'd make, the hanger-ons, the moguls, wheeler dealers, the directors would know you as-"

"You left out exotic actresses," Xander interrupts, beeping me on the nose, with his finger.

"And exotic actresses," I add, playfully swatting his hand away. "They'd only know you as 'Star-Xander'. But to me, no matter how famous or rich you got I'd always know you as 'Barbie-Kidnapper-Xander' and 'Xander-Who-Skateboarded-Into-A-Bannister-When-He-Saw-Buffy-The-First-Time.'"

I put down the now half empty carton of ice-cream, gotta save some for Buffy, she likes Oreo's too, and take Xander's hands. "You'd be Xander-Xander, maybe not to everybody, but to me you'd always be. I'm asking that you remember I'm always Willow-Willow."

Xander squeezes my hands. "You're not just Willow-Willow," he says. "You're Willow-Willow-Willow-WILLOW-Willow."

"Uh," I cock my head to one side. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head on a rock while buying me ice-cream?"

"Ice-cream has distinctive butt saving properties," Xander points out, waving a finger in the air imperiously. "However too much of it results in Butt-Adding properties. Got to watch out for that y'know." He waves his finger in my face like he's talking to a child.

"You're not safe though," I say. "You still gotta apologize to Buffy and with HER appetites its going to be three cartons of ice cream at least."

Xander groans and melodramatically clasps his hands to his face, much like that Home Alone brat. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet and examines the contents. Apparently he doesn't like what he finds.

"So…uh…" Xander says after a few seconds. He's tapping his index fingers together. "How about a hug to mark the occasion."

"Humm," I say melodramatically, resting my face in my hands. "Now that I have broken free of male oppression could this be a lure, a trap, to draw me into my doom?"

Xander snickers evilly and pantomimes a villain rolling his mustache. "You'll never be free of male oppression, snerk, snerk, snerk."

"Oh," I say with a shrug. "Then I'll take the hug. Might as well get something good out of the deal."

I stand up, holding my arms open, I'm ready to give my oldest friend a hug to confirm that all is forgiven. Xander uses humor a lot to get by the rough spots in his life, the jovial energy he has is a good shield. Sometimes though it slips and now is one of those times. As he prepares to give me a Xander-Hug(Which these days consists of lifting the recipient off their feet and spinning around really fast.) he eyes show real relief and gratitude.

I don't really like Xander hugs, I get nauseated just looking at a roller coaster but sacrifices must be made I suppose.

"YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT?!" Buffy's voice is so loud the window panes rattle in their frames.

He throws the door open ready to rush in recklessly and I'm right behind him; we're intercepted by Anya who throws herself into Xander's arms with the cry of: "Xander! I was so worried about you!"

He glances down at the blonde wrapped around him, "I was gone for fifteen minutes, An." He pauses and than a goofy looking smile appears on his face. "You were worried about me?"

"Not really," she replies with a shrug. "All the couples I see on television seem to enjoy it when someone they care about says stuff like that."

Anya reaches up and pats him on the cheek, "We have sex right? That means I care." She glances over his shoulder at me. "So you two have made up then?"

"Yeah, we're cool," Xander says hurriedly. "An, what's going on in here, we heard Buffy shouting!"

"Oh that," Anya poo poo's with a wave of her hand, "Buffy was just telling Giles how much she enjoyed running around at night killing vampires without clothes."

"I wouldn't say naked exactly," I try say absently, trying to overhear Buffy and Giles.

"Buffy's running around naked on patrol?" Xander's voice climbs an octave as he says it.

"Technically she is naked," I concede, my mouth switches over to 'automatic'. "But not vulnerable naked, or sexy naked. I think nude would be a more correct term."

"Yes, that's right." Anya replies to Xander. "But what I want to know is whether you're okay with Buffy and Willow having sex."

"I can't believe you!" Buffy shouts stalking back and forth in front of the sofa. Giles, standing behind the sofa holds something in his hands that I can't quite make out.

"Yeah An, Buffy and Willow, peachy, great, having no problems with it." Xander says impatiently. "What I don't get is this Buffy running around naked thing!"

"Please Buffy," Giles says in an exasperated tone. "You have to put them on. It's for your own good!"

"Buffy, you don't understand," Giles says still holding the whatever it is that Buffy is raging over.

"Then explain it to me," Buffy rages, resuming her angry walk back and forth, back and forth.

"Killing vampires and demons, just like she's always done," Anya keeps saying slowly and patiently. "Still with me?"

"It's-it's all rather complicated," Giles replies to Buffy, I notice he's slowly backing away from where Buffy is pacing and he looks nervous.

"And she's doing it naked." Anya concludes, crossing her arms and giving Xander a triumphant smirk.

"Buffy is not naked!" I shout at the top of my lungs, squeezing my eyes shut with the effort. "She's nude okay? Nude, natural, part of the great outdoors, beautiful and wild and free, not writhing on some greasy stage for pocket change kind of naked!!"

"Willow!" Buffy cries out and jumps over the sofa to pull me into a heartfelt embrace. Surprising but not unwelcome. After a few moments of being hugged I put my arms back around her, the awkwardness of being actually…uh…romantic with Buffy in front of my friends dismissed.

Of course Buffy ups the ante, squeezing me tighter; then before I can get a word out planting a soft, sweet but oh so very lingering kiss on my lips.

Her fingers knead the muscles just below my shoulder blades and I melt against her, my legs losing strength as Buffy sweeps me into a wonderful sense of not caring about when's or where's just us's. The kiss ends and we're leaning against each other, eyes closed, foreheads touching, hearing, feeling, tasting the other's breath.

"Wow," I get out after a second. "That was unexpected. Very nice, very unexpected, but very nice. Did I do anything to deserve such a welcome? I wanna know so I can do it more often."

"Very!" I whisper back to her, nodding. "Though I think I'll make sure you don't miss me that much. Being around you constantly has certain advantages."

"Oh goody," Buffy whispers back. She hunches forward and her voice gets even softer so I have to really try so I can hear what she says next. "Everything okay?"

"Think so," I murmur to her. "It was, but this might have…surprised Xander." I open one eye and peek at where Xander is standing. He's slumped forward slightly, his jaw hanging open. Anya is standing beside him looking bored.

"That, that, that," Xander repeats, swallows and manages to say: "That was the coolest thing I have ever seen!"

I stop watching them. "I think Xander blew a fuse." I mumble. I can't see it but I know Buffy is smiling.

"Ladies," A sharp British voice breaks into our solitude. "I'm sorry to interrupt but Buffy and I were in the middle of a rather important conversation." Buffy pulls away from me and turns to give Giles the meanest look. "No," she says in a clipped voice. "You were talking, I was ignoring you."

"Giles?" I say as gently as I can. "What's going on, are…are you scared of something?"

Wearily Giles reaches up and takes off his glasses; walking around the sofa, and in doing so he again puts the sofa between him and Buffy, he sits down in his regular chair with a heavy sigh.

"Giles? Scared?" Xander says in an unbelieving tone, the same one people probably used back in the fourteen century, 'The world? Round?'

"Not exactly scared of," Giles says rubbing his forehead. "Scared for would be a more apt phrase."

"What things Buffy?" I ask turning to face her. "What did Giles ask you to do? What happened after I left?"

"Not much," Anya interrupts. "Buffy told Giles that she's been running around naked, killing stuff, and Giles told her she couldn't do that any more; that it was, in fact, very, very bad for her and not only did she have to go back to wearing clothes but she'd also have to wear these leather gloves all the time."

Xander looks at Buffy, than at Giles, than back to Buffy. "Not going for the whole Lady Godiva thing huh, Giles?"

"No, nothing of the sort Xander, none of you understand!" Giles says hunching forward in his chair.

"Then explain it already!" I say throwing my hands up in the air. "What do you think is wrong with Buffy, and why on earth do you want her to wear gloves?"

"Sensory deprivation," Buffy snarls. "He doesn't want me to touch or feel anything anymore."

"No!" Giles says firmly, lurching to his feet. "I just want to weaken it, Buffy, you have to understand, you have to…to…know…" his voice falters. "Look, please Buffy, just put them on, don't go out at night anymore like you have been. You…you simply have to trust me."

"Willow," Giles voice breaks. "Please, don't…you say you love Buffy, then get her to do this little thing for me." He holds out his right hand and in his grip I can now see clearly the two gloves, made out of shiny black leather, held in his clenched fist.

"Never!" I shout, slapping his hand away. The gloves land in a pile on the TV set. "It's bad enough you' ve gotten all closed mouth on us, but-"

I stop talking and take a good look and Giles. He's not looking at me, his eyes are on the gloves, looking at where they landed and he's eyeing them with a sense of desperation. An image flashes in my head of a man standing before a caged predator and he's looking at a broken lock. Giles stares at the gloves and then, slowly, he turns and looks at Buffy and what he is feeling is all too clear.

"You are afraid!" I say accusingly, I even point my finger at him. "You're not afraid for Buffy but you're afraid of her." I glance at Buffy but she doesn't seem to perturbed, she's just staring at Giles, her eyes hooded. She looks a little bored actually.

Xander isn't saying anything either, he's watching us all carefully but his insistence for answers has been derailed, for the moment.

"How could you?" I lecture Giles. "How could you be scared of Buffy? She's your Slayer and what could she do that's so wrong, so terrifying, that you have to be afraid of her? Look at me, I'm with her all the time and nothing bad has happened."

"The opposite actually," I hear Buffy say, more to herself than out loud. I don't let her comments stop me; I'm on a roll.

"What happened to all that trust you had for her?" I admonish Giles. He hasn't stopped staring at Buffy though so I'm not totally sure he's hearing me. Doubtful though, I think I'm being loud enough for the East Coast to hear me.

"You're standing there acting all mysterious and giving these really weird instructions, telling Buffy to wear gloves! Gloves!!" Giles face pales as he listens to me to yell at him. He tries to back away but his chair is right behind him so he has nowhere to go.

"What the heck are gloves going to do?" I clench my hands into fists but make sure to keep them at my sides. "And you're doing all this while not telling us anything and you lie right to us at the same time. 'Scared for.'" I mimic someone spitting. "Right, sure, whatever. You are scared, Giles. Scared, not for Buffy, but OF Buffy."

I'm not aware I'm running out of breath until Buffy rests her hands on my shoulders and I realize I'm feeling a little woozy. What is it with me today? I've yelled at the best two adults I know and it's not even after lunch yet!

"Shush," Buffy murmurs, pulling me against her gently. "It's alright Will. It's okay, I knew he was scared but he still means well."

"You knew?" I whimper; I struggle a bit to look over my shoulder enough so I can see Buffy's face.

"Yeah," Buffy says quietly. "Same was as I could tell about Xander." She scrunches up her nose.

I nod silently. Buffy doesn't want this little trick to get around so we're being sneaky.

"Oh dear God," Giles blurts. "You can pick up emotions!" Apparently we're not being sneaky enough. Giles seems to wilt under the pull of gravity and slumps back into his chair. "I had no idea it had progressed so far." He admonishes himself.

Sighing again, Giles pulls himself out of his chair again. Up, down, up, down. I'd be getting dizzy. Walking to his a box of books under the TV stand Giles starts studying the bindings. After a moment he pulls one out and blows dust off the cover. He flips through the pages rapidly, not seeming to care if he damages the obviously ancient text in the process.

"'She who Slays the Dark of Night,'" Giles reads, looks like he found what he was looking for. My stomach begins to tie itself in a knot. Nothing good has ever come out of these books. "Is the meeting of two forces; Order and Chaos. Normally these aspects of what she is are balanced though a firm and guiding hand is always better. It has been recorded that the balance can be lost and Chaos gains dominion of The Slayers soul.'"

Xander's hand snakes down and takes Anya's, who is also paying attention. I echo Xander's movements, sorta, and place one hand on top of the one Buffy's still resting on my shoulder.

Giles walks across the room toward us still reading, "'That balance, having been forsaken, shall blossom forth in the Chosen One, new gifts, new abilities and the elder ones shall become of greater magnitude than before.'"

"That doesn't sound so bad," Xander interjects. I nod, but Giles' reaction doesn't add up to what sounds like, so far, not so bad news.

Giles doesn't even pause to listen to us, "'Beware though for as the Chaos grows in power so too shall The Slayer become uncontrollable. Given to wanton acts of heedless destruction, scouring any or all things be they her prey, her protectorates, or her protectors. This will eventually cumulate in an orgy of such random destruction that it will swallow The Slayer herself, leaving only the dead and dying in it's murderous wake, herself included.'"

I feel Buffy's hand start to tremble underneath my own. "'Discipline is her only savior.'" Giles reads, I want him to stop, I want him to stop reading. I want to tear that book out of his hands and burn it, burn all the books with all their bad tidings and bad…bad…things!

"'The Council must do any and all things, go to any extreme to force Order upon their charge; to reestablish the balance; to reacquire the blessing of the Light and return the Chosen One to that which she was before: Their weapon against the Dark.'"

Giles takes off his glasses and slowly closes the book, his eyes lock on Buffy and he continues speaking, he's reciting the rest of the passage from memory. "'I call upon you, my brothers in the Council, to do any and all things should such a fate befall your watches.'" As he speaks his voice starts fading, growing steadily quieter and softer.

"' The struggle must endure, do not let your Slayers fall, lace your feelings well against sympathy or remorse for they are the enemy now.'" Giles stares at Buffy as he recites, his eyes glazing over. All the blood seems to drain out of his face so the bright sunlight slicing through the window cuts hard shadows across his face.

"' Should you fail and The Slayer's balance is lost she will not be recorded in history as the Warrior, but as what she will become: An animal, a bloodthirsty beast of earth, field and ocean. Let not this happen my brethren, deny this thing it's day and save your charge from becoming-'" Giles voice breaks and he can't keep his head up. He turns away from us and, swallowing convulsively, chokes out the last words.

The silence has teeth. Wide and long in stretches before us all. I can't hear anything, just feel. The bile that just flooded up my throat leaves a burning trail that goes all the way back down to my stomach. Behind me I can feel the, almost…almost gentle trembling of Buffy's body against mine. I can feel her hand, so warm a second before, become cool and clammy. My own feels hot, too hot and covered in sweat so it might not be Buffy's fault, the clammy I mean. She could just be getting cold I'm the causing the clammy.

Xander swallows, I hear it even though it's a quiet sound, I hear it clearly. Giles sets the book down on the tabletop and the slither of it's leather cover against the wooden surface sounds, to me, like something reptilian and cold, hissing from it's lair.

Buffy tenses, I can't see her, but I feel it. There's no giveaway, she doesn't grab my hand any tighter or anything but she tenses. I react, tightening my own grip so when she does run I won't be left-

Buffy tries to yank free when she turns to run, but I don't let her go. I won't let her go! Somehow I hang on even though she is many, many times stronger than I am. I hold on though, not letting her leave me behind.

She throws open the door and rushes outside with me right behind her. I don't hear anyone behind us; no one is shouting our name trying to get Buffy to stop or anything. They're probably still stuck in that stunned silence thing.

My shoulder hurts, she's pulling away from me and I can't stretch my arm any farther, she keeps this up either my shoulder will be pulled from its socket of I'll get left behind. The former is a possibility, I can see that happening, I'm willing to let that happen but no way in Hell will I let Buffy leave me behind.

Can't…breathe. Throat hurts; legs…aren't there. Can't feel them. Buffy's not slowing down, s'okay though, I'll keep up, I'll keep up…won't let her get away, won't abandon her, won't leave her.

The sun is setting. The orange glow filters through the heavy canopy overhead. I open my mouth and breathe deeply. The stench of that fat idiot and his pasta still lingers in my throat. Or it could be just the memory. I take another deep breath, willing the clean air to purge the memory and lingering odor. That's the problem though, this air isn't pure. It's not polluted, well, not in comparison, the nearest road is a good twenty clicks away. Yet there is something wrong here, a vibe, a push that is telling me that something here is off. Twisted in a very minor way but still unmistakable and very old. Of course I know what it is.

I stand in a small clearing deep in the woods. Directly to my west is the University where my prey attends classes. I've spent the afternoon searching these woods for signs of her passage but so far there haven't been any. That leaves two options:

Either she's that good, which I doubt, or she does most of her travelling via the trees.

Have to change my thinking. If she's acting bestial, giving in to her baser instincts that means she might have adopted certain traits. She's a hunter, a predator and that would mean she has a territory. What would she mark her territory with? Spoor? Bodily wastes? The idiot said she's acting bestial, not becoming a beast; still means it's possible but I'd doubt it. Kills then, but small piles of vampire ashes don't make a good marker. Possibly demon bodies. Okay lets see if we can find something like that then, if that doesn't work we'll hit the trees, see what we can find up there.

The darkness is comforting, but not absolute. A dull orange glow pokes past my closed eyelids but it's the pounding in my skull that demands I wake up.

I look around quickly. We're in her bedroom at her house. I'm lying on her bed with the pillows all fluffed up around me. Buffy herself is also lying on the bed, using my lap as her own pillow.

"I carried you, " Buffy interrupts me gently. "You wouldn't let go of my hand, Willow. I tried to shake you off but you wouldn't let go. " She says it in a faint whisper, like she can't believe it happened.

"You were going to fall, " Buffy continues. "You must have tripped on something and were falling and I had two choices: Keep running and drag you behind me or catch you."

"Always." Buffy replies. "Didn't mean to run, Will. Just had to but you wouldn't let me go so you came with."

"Did the plan include falling unconscious from overexertion?" Buffy chides me gently.

"I…I didn't mean-" I start but Buffy gently takes my hand and presses it to her lips. "I needed to think anyway," she says. "I'm glad you didn't let me go, didn't leave me alone, but I did need time to think, to feel."

"I stared at you for the whole day," Buffy begins. "I went over everything I feel for you, felt for you and tried to figure out these…these…" her words fail.

"Instincts," Buffy says. "New instincts." She sighs, "That's the problem, they're not new. Just stronger."

"About you?" Buffy answers my question with one of her own. "Protect. It's always coming back to protect, defend, love, and treasure. They're so strong and real. Like…uh…moral absolutes."

"There is no way that I could do anything like what Giles said." Buffy continues. It's strange but her voice is resolute, confident, not like someone trying to convince themselves of something. She really believes this so…how can I not?

"Instincts?" Buffy looks away from me, she knows what I'm talking about, doesn't want to admit it.

Buffy's silent for a time, and I leave her alone. I run my fingers through her hair, combing it out into nice, neat rows. Holding it in my hands and letting it fall gently across her back, a bright, cascade of softness running between my fingers. "Hunt," she finally says, there's no regret in her tone. It's just a fact. "Hunt and stalk. Seek out my prey and destroy it. Run it down, and take it."

"No," Buffy replies looking back up at me. She slides up the bed to take my face in her hands, she does it gently and with great care. I don't mind, she can't hurt me; I know that, I trust her. "It just is but its not, like, eating me up inside. It's something I like, not something that I can't resist."

"Was it like this before?" I ask quietly. Buffy studies my face, maybe she's looking for doubt, or some fear in me but there isn't any there. I know myself right now and I doubt nothing about her, fear nothing from her.

"He's not," Buffy says, still holding my face in her hands. "I know, down to the bottom of who I am, I know he's wrong. The Council is wrong, they're all wrong. They want to stop me from feeling, Willow. Chain me, force something on me and it can't be that way. Don't ask me how I know but I know. Forcing me would be…bad."

Buffy pulls away from me, her features darkening. I grab her hand and pull her back against me; she lets me of course. "No, no, no," I say quickly, whispering the words into her ear. "No doubt here, believe. I believe, really I do. No hesitation here from m, not from your Willow. Buffy's right, Council's wrong. I believe you, it was just a dusty, old, stupid book. Who reads books these days anyhow?"

Buffy's smile seems a little reluctant but in no way forced. "You do, if I recall correctly. Lots of books I think."

"Shhh!" I say frantically. Casting a conspiratorial look around her room I stage whisper, "Don't let that get out, people will think I'm kinda strange."

"Then I'll bash em'" Buffy giggles. "Just like an overprotective girlfriend should do!"

"Better than that, you can hold me." Buffy murmurs and pushes herself against me and takes me in her arms.

It's nice. I said I didn't doubt her, or fear her and I don't but still…to be in her arms like this, its made more concrete, more absolute. Yeah, I've got nothing to worry about from Buffy. None of us do, if they'll just listen. Then Buffy whispers in my ear, "I think I have some gloves under the bed."

I pull away quickly, "No Buffy, you don't have-" she shushes me with a finger on my lips.

Getting off the bed she kneels down and reaches under the bed, after rummaging around for a few seconds she's resting her elbows on the mattress holding one, tiny, white leather glove. She stares at it wordlessly. Her features are unreadable but the tension in the room just jumped, my stomach starts to scrunch again.

Then with a sigh of "Hell with it." Buffy slips her left hand into the glove. I have this urge to duck but I don't. Moot point, nothing happens.

Buffy's stares at her glove encased hand, flexing it into a fist and releasing it a few times. "It's a bit tight," she says finally. "That's it."

The second my hand touches her gloved one Buffy's body is wracked by a violent spasm and she lurches to her feet, her other hand clawing and scrabbling at the glove. "Get off! Get off! Gettoffofmegoddamnyou!!" she hisses between clenched teeth. Her voice rising in pitch and volume as she scratches at the gloves with her free hand. "Getoffofme! GETOFFOFME!!"

Her fingers, hooked like claws, scratch frantically at the glove but it stubbornly resists her efforts. Bringing her wrist to her mouth she bites down on the leather and starts working at it with her teeth; she growls and whimpers, whipping her head back and forth. Finally, after a savage jerk Buffy tears the glove off and sends it fluttering across the room.

"Oh God," Buffy sobs, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "Oh God, that was terrible!" She starts sliding her hands on the sleeves of her jacket, like she's trying to wipe something off. "I couldn't…I couldn't feel you." Buffy's voice is horse, rough getting deeper. "…couldn't touch! I couldn't touch!!"

I leap off the bed and move toward her but she doesn't notice me. "Bad, this is all bad, " she says throatily. "Have to touch, have to know, have to be free!" And when she says free she begins shucking out of her clothes. Her jacket falls to the floor and her shirt quickly follows it. I want to hug her, hold her close and bring her comfort but…my own instincts tell me that's not the right thing to do now. Buffy practically rips her pants apart in her effort to get out of them, she kicks them free so violently they smash into the far wall.

She stops and stares at me, half-naked. She's only wearing her panties and has one shoulder of her bra off, her left breast hanging free. "It's not you, Willow," she finally says after staring at me for what feels like far too long.

"I…I just have to…" she looks eagerly out the open window where it's rapidly growing darker.

I step toward her and cup her head in my hands. Tilting her face I lean forward and kiss her gently on the lips. The contact only last for an instant but it's enough. "I'll be here." I whisper to her.

Buffy doesn't say anything, just this mewling in her throat that sounds like gratitude then there's a whistling sound and I'm alone in her room, the shredded remains of her underwear gently drifting to the floor.

"Eeep!" I rush around the room and gather up Buffy's clothes and the remains of her clothes. I stuff these under the quilt just before Mrs. Summers opens the door. "Oh, hello Willow, where's Buffy?"

"Um…Hi Mrs. Summers," I wave to her than restrain my waving hand with my other one. "Buffy? Oh…she…uh had to go. Patrol. Y'know how it is."

Mrs. Summers is quiet for a second, looking slightly pensive. "I thought I knew how it was, Willow," she says. "I'm not so sure anymore."

"Well, I got movies. Want to watch some while we wait for Buffy to get home?" she holds the door open in an obvious invitation. "We can make caramel corn."

"Willow?" Mrs. Joyce becomes tinged with concern. "Are you sure you're alright? Your look like-"

"Just got something in my eye Mrs. Summers," I say quickly, blinking rapidly. "Just something in my eye."

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Dianna Wears Red
Primus

by Mad Hamlet

Copyright © 2004

Mad-hamlet@usa.net

Dianna Wears Red Primus

by Mad Hamlet

Copyright © 2004

Mad-hamlet@usa.net

Dianna Wears Red
Primus