Cause Falling Just Happens by Pat Kelly

Her interest in the companion text to "British Literature" fading, Willow began to ponder the turns her life had taken; she did that a lot lately. She remembered her old, shy, babbling self, clearly. That was "Rosenberg 1.0," who used to thank her lucky stars that Buffy Summers had forsaken popularity and high, social standing to be friends with her. Actually, she still thanked those stars. Regularly, in fact, because if it were her making the decisions, she wouldn't be living in Buffy's house, occupying the slayer's once room and bed.

No, she wouldn't have given herself another chance, but she wasn't Buffy. Her best friend wanted to move past all that had transpired, and help her to deal. She wasn't positive she deserved it. See, the shy girl had become a confident, extremely powerful witch. A witch that had torn her best friend from a heaven, gotten seduced by the strength magick gave her, strength she hadn't possessed before – it was abused. She'd gone through several versions to get to that point, and she was in the process of fixing the latest bugs.

She loved that circumstances had switched; she loved that she could crush all of the people who made her life hell for sixteen years, without breaking a sweat. She never thought she'd ever attempt it of course, but then Tara died. The loss of her girlfriend and lover sent her catapulting over the edge, making her into a puppet of the dark magick she'd flirted with. Though at the time, she didn't care. She brutally murdered Tara's killer along with others, and almost her friends. Her family. Then there was that part where she tried destroying the world.

But none of that seemed to matter to the people who cared about her, amazingly enough. Xander risked his life to reach her, Giles took her to England (which got her interested in the literature) to study under a coven that showed her how to start controlling her ability…and she'd come to a few, non-magick realizations while there. About feelings she wasn't ready to voice to anyone, a choice that could very well hurt her. It was a risk she was willing to take.

Upon returning to her native shore – even though Buffy was scared – she was welcomed back into the house she'd called "home" for over a year. And it truly did feel that way…like home. Even more so than the structure she spent her childhood in. She was grateful for the love and support she found here, she was. Everyone wanted to help, except they couldn't. Not yet. She needed to discover "Willow" again first; maybe update the version a little.

Being abruptly brought out of her reflection by the ringing telephone, she sighed, placing the book down. She left it open with the spine facing upwards, and grabbed the phone after sitting up. "Hello?" Hearing whom it was, her eyes slowly narrowed as she tried to keep calm. "Oh, h-hey…Nope, I'm just…Huh? How'd you hear…?" Her eyes widened while she listened. "Uh, I think I'll pass…Yeah, I'm sure. Fame-schmame…I won't change my mind, trust me."

She was getting tenser and tenser as the conversation continued, her anger becoming frustration. "That's not what happened, okay? It wasn't like that at all. A-and it's gone, so…No! I wouldn't. Not *ever*…You have no idea…it so isn't something you should mess with…Not caring if you're bored…Look, I don't do that kinda stuff anymore, and I don't have to explain, and…just leave me alone."

Forcefully slamming the phone to its cradle on the small dresser beside the bed, she closed her eyes, inhaling slow, deep breaths. "She's wrong."

"Who is?" Buffy had been standing in the doorway, sort of eavesdropping. She felt guilty about it, but she was getting desperate for her friend to let her back in the loop. She walked into the room further, when she wasn't acknowledged. "Will?"

"Amy." The redhead opened her eyes and answered. "She wanted to know if I was free tonight, because…" She turned away, looking to the window. "…Because she wants to see the temple."

The slayer was confused. "Which one? Cause I'm not good with temples; I packed my brain full of other facts in high school. Like, 'How to Behead and Decapitate.'"

"Don't those both mean the same thing?" Willow's brow furrowed, as she directed her gaze back to Buffy.

"Technically, yeah. But to me, you 'decapitate' if you have time, which is cleaner, and you 'behead' when you're in a rush, which is sloppier." Buffy's tone was light and conversational. "Really, it's a cleanliness issue. All depends on how much 'demon' you're willing to wear on your clothes."

"Then I'd stick with decapitation whenever possible." The blonde was frightening herself. "Back to my non-gross point, the only temple I know is the one with the kids and the psycho cult that Harrison Ford…" As soon as she said it, she was left feeling like a moron. "Wow, okay, that's gotta be from way too many 'Summer Movie-Fests' with Xander." She smirked, but then Willow looked back at her, and she frowned. "Oh, we-we were always thinking of you…Dawn ate your share of the popcorn every time." She saw a weak smile, so she ungracefully left the tangent she was on. "So we're obviously talking about Sunnydale's own, 'Underground, World-Ending, Temple of Evil.'" Not "Doom." She silently yelled at herself. "For the record, I knew that."

Willow nodded supportively. "Well, Amy wants to, 'Go have fun with it,'" She rolled her eyes, "but she needs me to raise it. Cause I'm, ya know, the Huge, Nasty, Uber-Bad. That's what's 'going around,' anyway." She shook her head, speaking sarcastically. "I'm worse than the Wicked Witch, now."

"But you don't. Not totally." Willow got off of the bed and went to the window. "No one does." Her voice lowered. "Magick is…"

"I wanna get it, Will." Joining her, Buffy put a hand on her arm, which was shrugged off. Despite the hurt she felt from that small gesture, she kept going. "I can't understand if you don't talk to me – which you avoid doing. I mean, since you've been back, we've had…what? Three conversations that *didn't* involve some random baddy dumb enough to make a move? And they barely lasted five minutes." She squeezed her shoulders. "We're all here, and we worry. Talk to us. About anything."

There was a long stretch before the witch spoke, and the crickets made the only sound. "It's complicated."

"That's great, because 'complicated' and I have a long history. When you make it go away, you usually find out that it was just hanging around to be an ass." The slayer countered, semi-jokingly. "I listen to your problems, you listen to mine – s'what we do. We've perfected it. We're the model of 'Best-Friendness' that everybody else tries to copy." She smiled sadly. "I used to have full access to what was goin' on in there," She poked Willow's head gently with her finger, "and these past couple years I…I forgot how lucky I was; I miss it. I miss you."

"I miss you, too." Willow said sincerely, facing the blonde. "I can't, though. I don't know what's going on in there, either." She tapped her forehead. "There's a bunch of different 'Me's' fighting – it's scary. Some aren't nice, and I have no clue who's gonna win." Tears began falling from her eyes. "The power that's inside me…it's there all the time. Every spell I do, I'm thinking, 'It could be bigger,' or, 'Wouldn't it be cool if I did this instead?' It's never enough, and I'm tempted." She admitted, gulping, hoping Buffy didn't run. "Oz told me once that every day he isn't…being 'wolfy,' he hears like, a-a humming. Constantly. It was hard for him to concentrate even, cause of…what he has inside, and that's how it feels when I'm not doing magick. Some days it's pretty quiet, other days it-it gives me headaches."

"Slayers have the same sorta deal." Buffy revealed, much to her friend's surprise. "When I'm fighting, part of me just…shuts down. Wherever my power comes from, whatever it is, that's mostly what I'm running on." She carefully explained. "And I can't just switch it off after patrol. Doesn't work that way. It's this ancient force; if I completely let go, it'd be dangerous. Also creepy." She had known that for a while now. "I tried pretending it wasn't there, and, probably shouldn't have – at least not as much as I did – cause it is a part of who I am. What I am.

"Was a huge reason why I went to Spike; 'Primal Slayer Buffy' got sick of being ignored. So she had her fun, and guilt came later. Life didn't exactly matter – only had to convince myself I was still dead." Her stomach twisted as she recalled those escapades. "I had sex of the disturbing kind, slayed, ate, and slept. Faith actually had the right idea, with not blocking it out and all. Except she went too far, and…I guess I did, too." She paused. "I think it's about balance, Will. All those 'You's'? They're pieces of the whole person I happen to be fond of, that don't wanna share." She smiled, because a fact dawned on her, then. "Hey, we're talking."

The redhead genuinely smiled in return. "I'm glad you had Tara helping you; she was great at helping people. She always knew what to do. And then, that day," She breathed in deep, wondering why a day so perfect had to end so tragically, "she said how much better you were. That you were finding your center. 'Idiot Me' didn't even realize there was something wrong." She was pulled into the slayer's strong arms, which communicated that she wasn't hated. "I wish she was here, Buffy. So much. If she was…" She wouldn't feel so guilty.

Tara had been becoming a great friend, and someone she found to be special, as Willow had already discovered. Without the blonde witch to lean on, she most likely wouldn't have survived the previous year. Buffy was crying now, hugging the girl tight. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop him…I'm sorry I couldn't save her for you." She meekly offered in apology.

"It's not your fault; don't think that." Willow ordered her embracer, the emotion draining from her words. "I blame myself. The whole 'myself.'"

"I'm going to Kit's!" Dawn loudly announced from downstairs. "If I make it to her house alive, I'll call – promise! See you, guys!"

Buffy didn't want to stall the forward progress she and Willow were making, but she had to temporarily assume the role of "Responsible Older Sister." "Wait a sec!"

Wiping her eyes, the slayer looked at the redhead apologetically, and then hurried to the steps. The young brunette had sort of snapped Willow back to reality; she'd opened up, accepted comforting contact…she didn't want to do that. She couldn't. Her self-punishment wasn't over yet. No healing or happy thoughts for her. It was too soon, and it wasn't right.

In the foyer, Dawn sported her best, pleading, "Come On!" expression for her more aged sibling. "You *said* I could! Xander was there…ask him!" She crossed her arms over her chest. "I knew I should've gotten it in writing."

Buffy's eyebrows raised. "Just wanna know a few, minor details; this is me taking an interest in your life, here." She said, calmly, preparing to lay on the sarcasm rather thick. "So how bout you drop the 'I Live in a Prison' act, answer my pointless, annoying questions, and then you can escape to go tell your friends how I don't feed you. Cause I'm such an ogre."

"You forgot 'moody.'" The glare the teenager received stole her thunder. "K…I-I can handle that." The teenager lowered her arms to her sides.

"Just me, Kit, and Carlos. We're gonna order Wrestling off Pay-Per-View." Dawn told her. "They got me into it; it's really athletic, and," Buffy's disbelieving grin made her scowl, "it has really hot guys who hate wearing shirts." She sighed, caught.

"Oh my god – Buffy! No! His brother's picking him up at eleven, and we don't even like him like that. Geez." The brunette's face reddened. "Besides, Kit's parents are there." She was still in shock. "I can't believe…just cause you have this majorly weird, bizarro sex-life where a pulse is like, optional, doesn't mean –"

"How's RJ?" The adult cut her off, and watched the cringing. But she was more than a little embarrassed herself. "Sorry, but I have to check these things." She waited a couple seconds to allow recovery. "You have your phone, right? And stakes?"

The events of last week were fresh in the minds of all three females. They tried not to mention it, and Willow – who was currently descending the stairs – was the most ashamed. She'd wanted to use magick to turn the boy into a girl. Sure, it was funny, but it also stemmed from loneliness. She was supposed to be grieving, punishing, yet she desperately wanted companionship. Someone to find solace in that would ease her pain. How could she do that to Tara?

"Not stopping you." Buffy half-smirked. She wasn't exactly upset that the sixteen-year-old was going to be someplace else for the night. "Have fun, and be careful."

"I will." The younger sister kissed the older on the cheek. "Bye, Willow!" Then, with her backpack strapped securely to her shoulders, she flew out the door.

And the two friends were left to stare at each other – Buffy at the foot of the staircase, Willow stalled near the middle – alone.

Fifteen minutes later, Buffy was in the kitchen searching the refrigerator for something eatable to have for dinner. Half-because her and the home's other occupant were hungry, half-because they were avoiding conversation, despite being at a point where they'd begun to let their guards down. Willow never distanced herself before; there had to be more going on than the obvious grief and guilt. It had to involve them. Otherwise, this didn't make sense. Shutting the door to the food-preserver, she left the kitchen, wondering if she was causing it somehow.

There was a time she resented the redhead for bringing her back to life – perhaps if she hadn't, perhaps if she felt like she could turn to her, Spike wouldn't have happened – but that period was long past. She was happy to be alive, happy to be helping kids, happy to see Xander successful and Willow living in the house again, while attending college. The dread that it would all fall apart remained, but as a slayer she couldn't be ignorant to the possibility. And the dread wasn't a "Post-Resurrection" thing – it had always been there, forever in the back of her mind.

But that wasn't the issue here. The issue was, had she ever expressed gratitude to her friend for returning her to the land of the living? Because she suddenly wasn't sure. If she had, odds were it wasn't enough. Wait…

Turn to her instead of Spike? Well, obviously in a friendly way. That was the friendliest thought of thoughts. What else could it be? It wasn't like she would've wanted what the vampire tried to give her, from Willow…right? No, absolutely not. Willow was Willow, she was who she was, and that was that. At this stage, certain things were set in stone, including that they "consorted" in different camps. And again, she was off the issue…wasn't she? A whirlwind was wreaking havoc in her head, now; that's what she got for thinking too much.

Thankfully, upon entering the living room, it stopped so she could speak. "Okay, we have leftover spaghetti from last night's, 'Anya-Supervised' dinner, or…"

She lost her place when she saw the witch sitting Indian style on the floor, calmly meditating. The redhead was deep into it, her eyes closed. Buffy hoped Willow wasn't doing it to get her emotions in check, because she didn't want to have to break through an even thicker wall. Crying was a step in the right direction, retreating from that release wasn't.

Just as a neutral observer, however, watching the young woman in this peaceful state, the slayer saw how physically appealing other women of happiness might find her friend to be. Personality-wise she was appealing too, no question, but her hair was semi-styled and was curled/wavy near the ends, falling down around her face in this really sexy…what the…? Where the hell was this coming from?

"One, you're straight. Two, best friend. Remember, Buffy?" The blonde told herself. "Guys, guys, guys. And you're supposed to be over the whole, 'nympho' phase."

Whatever the problem was, it wasn't so big that she couldn't go repair things between them. Buffy went in, in spite of her brain's suggestions to the contrary, and copied Willow's position on the floor, clasping their hands together. They'd done this once before – it seemed to help with the healing process. Her friend knew she wasn't alone anymore, yet she didn't move. In fact, she smiled just a little, lids still shut. These were all good signs. They stayed like that for several minutes at least, until two sets of eyes met at the same time.

"Help?" Buffy asked gently, to which Willow nodded. Seconds evaporated. "You shouldn't blame yourself, Will. It's Warren's fault, and *only* his fault."

The smile was gone as the witch stiffened. "Nobody mattered to him, and he didn't matter to anybody else, so I made him pay. Because he was sick." She spoke with no emotion at all. "Maybe I'm sick, too." Then she tried to separate herself from her friend's grip, to shy away from the comfort, to no avail. "I don't –"

"You don't get to do this." The blonde interrupted, squeezing her hands. "I'm not gonna let you. You aren't him; you're better. Way better."

"How?" Willow desperately questioned. "We both killed people. All right, I was more creative, but…"

"Easy. He was psychotic, you're not." Buffy answered simply, before elaborating. "You were under the influence of powerful magick. He didn't have an excuse."

"But I-I asked for the power. I was, 'Damn the Consequences Girl.' I wanted to hurt him."

"But you were hurting, and pretty much lost, and it took control of you; power does that. What the magick made you do…that wasn't the 'Willow' I'm looking at. Who I've known…pretty forever, since my memory 'Pre-Sunnydale' is kinda non-existent anymore. I'm sure it wasn't, because I wouldn't let *that* 'Willow' sit here like this; I'd probably ban her from the house. Except you have to live with the pain, and…I wish you didn't. She's not all you are." Came the soft, sad response. "Did you want to hurt us, too?"

"No!" The redhead exclaimed, hoping that the blonde didn't believe anything of what her darker half had said or done. "Goddess, Buffy…I love…" She swallowed the words. "You guys. We're family; you're my people. Y-you believe me, don't you? You hafta believe me." She pleaded, her fear having grown exponentially. "Please."

"I do. Besides, s'not a family without you." Buffy assured her, and smiled when the redhead stretched out to rest her head in her lap. She stroked her strawberry-scented locks gently, recalling when they used to do this while just watching TV, and how simple it was. They slipped into this comfort zone with one another – a zone they hadn't returned to often. "Thanks for bringing me back into it."

Willow's teeth got exposed. "Thanks for coming back." She fiddled with the laces on Buffy's shoes. "I'll be better; I'll help better. I promise. You shouldn't've had to go to Spike…I wasn't doing a very good job of being best-friendly last year." What did that mean? Nothing. There was absolutely nothing underneath that sentence at all. "Forgive me?"

"I can't even forgive myself." The slayer revealed, her stomach queasy. Her big attempt to feel something, and the only feeling he produced was a disgusted, empty one. "I can't believe I went that far towards 'nut-ville.' And anyway, also not your fault, so…nothing to forgive. I wanted to talk to you about it, though – badly. But we all had our own, mini-black holes to deal with, I guess."

Buffy sighed at the loss of progress. They'd moved forward. "Will, her dying isn't –"

The witch's eyes went wide as it dawned on her what she'd asked in the ease of the moment, and where it could lead. She stood up and went to the sofa, nervous. "Not that. It's not…anything. I'm cheery, honest. No more heavy talk."

"Uh uh. No way." The more petite woman disagreed, going to her and kneeling. The blockage was so close to being unclogged. "What is this? There's something you're hiding, and it's an 'Us' thing. I can tell. Magick, Tara…they don't factor in. So c'mon, spill. I wanna drop the tension; I wanna be tension-free. I can't handle another day of tiptoeing."

"It'll be worse after." Willow said, but the listener would hear none of it. If she couldn't direct the conversation elsewhere…fine then. "Tara should've factored, that's why I'm all self-blamey." She frowned, and then nearly laughed at the quizzical expression she received. "Part of me knew you weren't in a fiery dimension with mean, ugly goat-men who like pitchforks. Hero-type people don't go to a place like that, portal or no portal." She paused. "But I still spent all summer researching how to make you live again. *All* summer. Me and Tara…there was no me and Tara. It was just me and books. And I went through with it. Cause I'm selfish, and a bad girlfriend. I needed you to be here more than I…needed to be with her."

"What're you saying? I mean…why?" Buffy was rather touched, yet apprehensive. This was territory she insisted they tread on, and now she was beginning to regret it.

"She tried to get me to leave you alone, to let you rest, but I couldn't." The redhead continued, skirting around the question. "She started saying stuff…crazy stuff, and so I pretty much told her, you know, 'That's crazy.' Cause I figured it was. We were sliding and rocky months before I did any spells. Then when you were back, I wanted everything to be normal, and it all went blooey. I was denying; I had to. I knew you'd never…" She turned to look at the curtain covering the large window, her push to lay all cards on the table not so strong, suddenly.

"Never what?" Like a moth to a flame, she wanted to hear something she was better off being deaf to.

"You don't wanna know, Buffy." When she faced her once more, Willow saw that Buffy had risen so they were at eyelevel.

"I don't?" The blonde countered in a low voice, debating whether or not to inform the other person that their heads were going to bump if they got any closer.

It was purely intentional on the redhead's part, even though she was aware she had to cease and desist. "Nope."

"Hey, back door's unlocked." Xander said, strolling into the room. "Might wanna fix that. I could've graduated top of my class at 'Burglar U' and emptied out this joint clean and easy."

Buffy quickly got to her feet so that it didn't appear as if they were doing, what they'd almost done. She couldn't play dumb, and the near miss only compounded her confusion. "Lucky for us defenseless girls you couldn't steal the money for tuition and get in, huh?" She joked, weakly. Unable to avoid Willow's fixed gaze, she chose the cowardly route. "I gotta patrol." Abruptly, out the front door she went.

And the witch was left with a lump in her throat that wouldn't get gone, as she hugged a pillow to her chest.

The slayer mulled it over as she trudged through the cemetery. She didn't want to tackle vampires; she just came here out of habit. She wanted to think about how a supportive chat between best friends had led to her admiring areas of Willow she hadn't until tonight, and how Willow could mean…what she didn't get to say. There were influencing circumstances that had to be clouding judgment. Actually, it boiled down to one circumstance for both of them – loneliness in the romantic sense. Sometimes loneliness made people cling to other people they wouldn't normally, which she could testify to.

The Spike of several months ago wasn't healthy for her, but at least she'd had someone to go to every night. No matter how much she hated herself afterwards, she still liked knowing that she had a place to be where she was wanted – even if she didn't want him back – in a way her friends didn't. Or so she thought. One of her friends might, and she wasn't sure she returned the sentiment. She wanted companionship and didn't mind sex, but from now on, she'd only accept it if she loved the person who loved her. As it stood, her relationship with Angel remained the only one that was fully meaningful to her.

She didn't want that to be the case forever, but Willow…Willow and her…she didn't know. Didn't trust herself. The redhead could read her like a book if she chose to, better than Angel ever could. She was scared they would both make a mistake that'd be difficult to recover from. Especially because they were already recovering from other things. Though perhaps they could recover mutually…together. Maybe she was in denial also. No. They weren't considering with clarity, and any decisions made shouldn't be made lightly. Considering with clarity? Whoo boy. Cemeteries weren't helpful.

"Guys, guys, guys." Buffy repeated like a mantra, seeing which grave she stopped in front of and exhaling tiredly. "Tara, what's wrong with me? It came outta nowhere. You know how great Willow is, you loved her. I love her, too…but it's not the same thing, is it? I mean, why would I? And how would I know if it was?" She asked as if she expected an answer, like in the many, previous discussions they'd had, and she felt ashamed. "K…suddenly thinking I shouldn't be talking to you about this. Because I respect you and what you guys –"

As a result of her being distracted, she had allowed six vampires to encircle her, and they registered because their spokesdemon wanted them to. "Sounds like the Slayer's conflicted, fellas. I remember being conflicted once." It snarled. "I think it was when my heart used to work. That's her problem right there. I say we make it stop; should solve everything."

"Thanks for the offer, but I've tried that a couple times, and…" She reached for stakes she didn't bring, paling. "…third time's a charm." They all smirked, moving in on her as a pack would a trapped animal. "Oh, just great. When I *do* wanna die I'm prepared. When I *don't*…" She sighed and got into a fighting stance, praying she could find a tree branch or some other kind of environmental assistance.

Yet before there was a single blow, each vampire burst into flames around her. She viewed the horrific sight with awed fascination; the slayer in her was thrilled and impressed by the display. The orange glow dancing in her eyes was bright, enticing, wild. She wondered if she ought to bother shielding herself, but it consumed the evil in mere seconds, evaporating, leaving her unscathed.

Her savior stood a foot or two away, and they stared at each other. Willow's black, determined, angry eyes eventually softened. She looked ready to cry again. By the time Buffy was hugging her, she had blinked – her eyes were now glassy and green. The blonde didn't care how discombobulated she was, she shouldn't have walked out. The witch she held became a witch in order to be able to fight on her side; risks were continually taken that she didn't ask her to take. She owed her so much.

"Kicking my ass?" The slayer smirked. "Nah, that was pretty incredible, too. Still, I'm glad you're back on the team. Being on the receiving end isn't exactly fun."

"I like our team." The witch said, sincerely. "Veiny Willow's was lonely. She was a stupid, evil…poop-head. Uh huh. I'm twenty-one. Really."

"Plus, the all-black? Major cliché. And she should've hired someone to write her villainous quips…tacky and unoriginal." Buffy joined her in the bashing. "It's good she's gone, because I couldn't take her. Kinda made me look bad. My image is tarnished enough – worked hard to earn that 'Giant Slut for the Undead' label."

"She'll stay away," Willow promised, and they were back in a "line-crossing situation" somehow, "cause I…" Lips inched closer and closer together, but she ended the opportunity this time, removing herself from off of Buffy's body. For two reasons: the slayer seemed scared, and she could see her deceased girlfriend's grave. "Uh, Xan-Xander went home because Spike called and couldn't find the remote for his TV, so now he thinks his apartment's all a big shamble, and you're not a slut."

The part-time counselor smiled at the fact that she'd changed roles. "That's debatable, but I appreciate the support."

"Comes with the job." The redhead shrugged, the corners of her mouth fighting to smile.

"See? I told you – you didn't wanna know." Willow slowly knelt by Tara's grave. "England gave me a lot of reflecting time, and…she was right. I picked you instead of her because I," She resolved to finish this, so the aftermath could ensue, "love you more, and I'd keep bringing you back. Even if my brain and everybody else tells me not to. I'm sorry." She ran her fingers over the letters of the carved name, apologizing to them both. "I didn't mean to. I know it isn't fair, but it just happened, and I can't…un-happen it, so I guess, um, I'll-I'll move and you won't have to…you know, pretend to not be freaked and still like me."

'Why would I?' Buffy thought again, staring down at the woman bearing her soul in a graveyard, because she couldn't carry the burden another step. The observer pondered about what Willow meant to her, and about how Willow cared enough that she was willing to walk away, which Spike couldn’t manage until it was too late. Except, Buffy wanted the redhead with her – the "stress" lines were vanishing. 'Because I do.'

Because Willow was Willow, and at some point the admiration of her features surpassed what was generally suitable for a friend. There was no easy explanation. The shift could've been gradual; it could've been recent. It could've been that hanging with Tara and spending months replaying her failed, often disastrous relationships with men, a stray thought crept in – Would it be different or is it me? – and subconsciously, she began to broaden her boundaries, stretch her limits. It could've been a passing, jealous thought that left as fast as it arrived, when Willow said she'd fallen for a girl. It was all speculation, however.

That, in the larger picture, didn't count for anything. All that mattered was that she wanted to lovingly consort with her best friend of seven years, and it didn't unnerve her. She pulled the witch upright, and guided her head up so she could see her face. Willow was greeted with an accepting expression she hadn't anticipated. She had to be dreaming it. Yes – this was all a dream that went nightmarish, and she'd wake up not having jeopardized their friendship. Eyebrows lifted questioningly.

"You could be pretending not to. You're sweet and 'Buffy-like' that way." Willow complimented, her mouth going dry when a blond head shook in the negative. "Then, uh…what're you doing?"

"For more vampires?" Another shake of the head was her answer. "For…" She pointed to herself. Now a nod. "Oh." Saying that, her voice went up an octave.

Happy feelings threatened to overwhelm, but the commands of every muscle she claimed ownership of were being held at bay by one thing. Her not wanting to hurt Tara more than she already had. Then, as if the sky was trying to get her attention, it started to rain. It wasn't torrential, just a calm, evening shower whose drops poked the top of her head until she craned her neck to see stars peeking through the clouds. They almost appeared to twinkle a little brighter than usual; as she deciphered what they formed, a tear traced a path down her cheek.

'The Big Pineapple.' She viewed the constellation with a smile of remembrance, and light laughter. 'Thanks, baby.' Believing that she just received a blessing, though still unsure about being deserving, she then said goodbye.

Not resisting them, the happy feelings began to flood in, and she dragged Buffy off of the grass to the glistening wet, asphalt road (this wouldn't have felt right where they'd stood). Grinning, she placed two hands on the sides of her face, and kissed her deeply as the rain fell. Just in case this was a dream, she was going to take full and complete advantage of it.

How did the blonde know she wanted this? Because once the surprise at the "confident aggressiveness" dissipated, she gave as good as she got. Matching the force, pulling Willow to her, and running her hands through hair that dampened more and more. They separated for air, and her breath hitched as her neck was assaulted with tiny, feverish kisses – slow was out, then.

"I feel cleansed, don't you feel cleansed?" Buffy managed to croak out, biting back a moan. Something was mumbled into her skin, which she guessed was agreement. "Great, then let's," A whimper escaped, "go home."

It was a struggle to get there, because they had a problem with constantly invading personal spaces.

They slowed down just long enough to slip off their shoes when they got inside, and then Willow brought their mouths together again. It was so intense that they giggled whenever they were able to make coherent sounds. Buffy tried to direct her towards the stairs, but inducing voluntary movement was a hopeless goal, so she lifted her up, holding tight with one arm. The redhead wrapped her legs around the blonde's waist so she didn't fall, and encircled neck with her arms. This was actually going to happen. It *was* happening.

They ascended the stairs kissing the entire time, Willow's hands sometimes sliding beneath Buffy's collar to roam along her back. Just to feel it. So she didn't lose her balance, the receiver of this steadied herself with the railing, courtesy of her free arm – they made it to level ground without incident. Turning down the hallway, she pushed Willow up against the wall, causing the mirror in the bathroom to rattle. She thought she could even the field somewhat, but her friend and soon-to-be lover knew what she was doing. God, this was…passionate. Indescribably so.

Unhooking herself from Buffy's smaller frame, Willow unabashedly leaned forward into it, forcing the woman to head backwards. It put space in between her and the wall, and she showed the slayer's double-pierced ear affection similar to what the lips were treated to. With an approving groan, Buffy's competitive nature kicked in, and her hands began to grope and massage the redhead's chest through the inhibiting shirt and bra. It wasn't an accident that the unwelcome shirt was torn off…in the midst of her curtailing Willow's collapse.

Lifting again, Buffy delivered her to a bed, and tossed the unlucky apparel somewhere in the corner with her own – she was in charge now. Climbing onto the mattress with a lying Willow, she planted kisses on the tops of her breasts and the inviting cleft in between. Hands sailed through her blonde hair, trying to communicate need. Which was unnecessary. Noises of satisfaction and frustration told her everything she had to know. She grinned and worked her way down, nipping and marking a beautiful, flat abdomen, being awfully pleased with the throaty cry elicited upon her arrival at the navel.

Her partner was gorgeous. And hearing her name in short gasps…was like being in heaven. They were trembling. Her because, once she discarded the pants, the only barrier preventing her from getting to know Willow in the most intimate of ways was a thin piece of fabric; Willow because, well, she knew what was in store. And she clutched at the sheets, feeling the temperature change. Knuckles white when she felt Buffy's breath tickle the trimmed, soft hair delicately covering her folds, she sighed, bracing herself for the ultimate contact…that was delayed. It was agonizing.

She bit her lip as the slayer returned above to remove the final article of clothing, causing a thigh to connect and rub where her mouth had not. Because that mouth was busy elsewhere. It was torture. Hot, erotic, wonderfully pleasurable torture she didn't want to end (and that Buffy was going to pay for), but torture nonetheless. She was amazingly sensitive thanks to the higher efforts, with the central, more pinkish areas of her breasts left swollen; every taste and flick of the tongue sent sparks speeding throughout her nerves. She caressed up and down her torturer's arm until the torturer got the hint, and they kissed hungrily.

Just prior to the blonde taking pity on her, three words were whispered into the redhead's ear, only heightening her tumble over the edge minutes later. She spasmed and clenched precise, talented fingers…a new sensation for the slayer. One that merely served to increase her own arousal. Buffy rode out the release's vibrations, which caused shivers down every inch of her perspiring skin. Hazel eyes were glazed. Now that the she'd given in, she didn't ever want to stop touching the person below her. No other reality existed.

Willow loved being desirable, but turnabout was fair play, and so she basked in the afterglow only briefly. She still had plenty of strength left to reposition herself overtop Buffy. There were hours to go yet.

It was 2:30 in the morning when Buffy, recuperating, decided that nourishment was needed to replenish sapped energies. She shuffled to the kitchen comfortable in her slight case of nudity, grateful it was just them in the house, and hurried back to Willow's room with a gallon of "Fudge-Nut Brownie" ice cream. Rejoining a delighted witch in bed, she handed her a spoon, and they dug in. As far as post-coital activities went, it didn't get any better than this. The slayer had no desire to bog herself down with potential consequences or things that could go wrong anymore. At the start of summer, she swore to herself she was going to enjoy life.

Life had its crappy, low points, and there was nothing she could do to dodge them, no matter how much she might try. All she could do was soak up the high ones, making the most of what she and Willow had embarked upon. Because life was also funny. Often, when you envision how something is going to turn out, you're let down. However, occasionally, life cuts you a break, and your expectations are left behind in the dust. She wouldn't sabotage this chance for herself; the redhead was too important for her shrink-worthy issues to get in the way of.

The reasons were too numerous to list, why she loved her – in the traditional and extra ways – she just did. This new, extra dimension was already special, and if circumstances were different, she would never have known. Yet she'd still undo Tara's death if it were possible. Being that it unfortunately wasn't, though, she refused to apologize for what she felt, nor would she feel guilty; and Willow had apologized enough. They'd care for each other; Tara had to know that.

Tonight was a pleasant beginning. She hadn't made love in a long time. Sex didn't even compare to what they'd shared in the past four hours. Buffy was slowly but surely getting it. Those instances were what were worth living for. And seeing a true smile plastered on her lover's face was the best reward. The sight of her lover eating ice cream while flushed and naked, half-under a sheet, was a close runner up.

"So, um," Willow fed her a spoonful, cupping her hand below to catch drips, "how long have you been gay?"

The blonde comically swallowed, her eyes semi-wide. "Carry the 1, subtract the…how long has it been since the cemetery?" She questioned in return, smiling. "You complaining?"

"No, no, no, no…definitely no." The flustered redhead let loose rapidly. "It's just…wow. Guy parts aren't girl parts, and…how'd you do that? How'd *I* do that? Man, Buffy, that was –"

"Steamy? Fantastic?" Buffy helped her find the words, as she fed her in mid-sentence. "Fantastically steamy?" She said hello to "pride" when the emphatic nodding started. "We didn't discuss, I know – we just did. And did, and did." They both grinned shyly. "It had nothing to do with 'Horny Slayer Sex Withdrawl,' okay? I wouldn't just use you for a 'one night' thing." She'd gotten that out of her system with the undead Brit. "I dunno where it came from; or when. You said you loved me, and I guess it…clicked. Discovered my 'Inner-Rainbow.' Then we…"

"Mm. And we…" Willow let her eyes flutter shut a moment, replaying every detail, a little hum playing on her lips. "Goddess."

"Yeah." The slayer watched as some ice cream dribbled down her girlfriend's chin; her gaze locked to it. "Again?" She couldn't tell whether Willow was frightened or turned on just then. "Kidding, I'm kidding. I do believe in sleep, ya know."

"That's a good belief. Cause if we're gonna be girlfriendly, you're gonna hafta start sleeping better. A tired slayer is a cranky, grumpy slayer. Even though you're cute when you're grumpy." Willow blushed, and Buffy broke out into a broad smile. "We…we are gonna be girlfriendly, right?"

"Well, I am feelin' the love." Buffy said, just before she leaned forward and kissed/licked the stray ice cream right off of her chin. Then she repeated the action on the puffy lips a minuscule distance away. "For you – the love for you. Question answered?"

"Back to the cuteness of me." The blonde attempted to steer the conversation to what she thought was an inexhaustible topic, putting the lid on the ice cream, which made Willow frown. She set it on the floor, and then cuddled the disappointed college student in her arms, which improved the mood. "But you have to remember…before sleep, carton in freezer. I'll forget, and if we both do, replacing it comes out of your share." She informed her, teasingly. She had to see the "That's Unfair" face. "Fine, I'll get up and…"

"No more moving." Willow ordered. "We need a little freezer. For 'After Dairy' only. We can be greedy and eat it all ourselves – ooh, like a private stash, and I can whip up a password spell. Like, 'ThankaYouteMrCowusiseus.'" The phone jarringly prohibited any comments, and for a second, she held her breath. "If that's Amy…"

"I got it." Buffy stretched and clawed for the ringing device until she had it in her grip. "Hello?…Anya?" They both sighed in relief. "It's really early. Why're you calling?…No, we weren't. You woke us." Her and her girlfriend's eyes bulged at her error. News slipped out at the wrong times. "*Me*. You woke me…Willow's snoring," She got smacked, "in her own room. We're…What?" She choked. "Gee, I'm flattered you think I'd make a great lesbian," Willow had to muffle her laughter, "but…Oh. Well, you can tell Xander…Anything but that." She sighed again, this time out of exasperation. "I'm sorry he bugs you…So yell at him…Okay, good night." The phone was hung up with a noticeable finality. "If we ever bond, I'll have to skip town again." Her expression turned quickly serious. "We'll beat it, Will. The 'From Beneath You it Devours' Bad, the 'magick' issues, and whatever else is coming. I don't know about the 'surviving' part, but I'm not, not fighting."

"Me either. I mean, my life just got a whole lot more yippee-ness, a-and there's tons to do. College to graduate from…so I say, bring it on." The redhead concurred, toughly, then lip-locked. "And you do." The redhead rolled on top of the blonde, smiling lopsidedly at her puzzlement. "Make a great lesbian. A…super damn good one." A brow raised – 'Super Damn?' "Well, uh, for a first timer and all."

That sounded like a challenge to the slayer. "I thought we were getting to the Zs."

"Sure are." Willow said, looking equal parts innocent and mischievous. "When I'm finished, you'll snooze for hours; it's like, my 'Sex' guarantee. If-if I had a 'Sex' guarantee. Thank me later?"

It was 12:30 in the afternoon when the bedroom door creaked open from the outside.

"Willow, have you seen Buffy? She's not in her room and d'you know that the back door was…?" Dawn unexpectedly, but understandably, lost her train of thought. "Oh my God! Holy frickin' crap!"

Those loud exclamations forced open the eyes of two, contentedly sleeping females. Fast. Dawn's unexpected presence in the redhead's bedroom, and the re-realization that they were both quite nude, caused Buffy and Willow to do the only sensible thing – shield themselves beneath the sheets until the teenager went away. It wasn't that they were ashamed; it was just a very awkward situation.

Buffy considered reprimanding her sister, but she had a feeling, given her current state, that it would be less than effective. She also had a feeling that it was late in the day, and that her sister was well within her rights to search for them. But she wasn't going to take any heat for being found like this. Dawn made the decision to scour – if the girl wasn't pleased by what she'd discovered, oh well.

Of course, the slayer had no idea what the follow-up to the initial reaction was, because she wasn't leaving the safety of the sheet and the cover it offered. Instead, she observed Willow's nervous expression, which matched her own.

"Morning. Or, better possibility, afternoon. Not really sure about the time." The blonde whispered. "So I guess just…hi."

"Hi." The redhead echoed, her eyes drifting down from her best friend/girlfriend's face. Immediately caught, she blushed. "And, oh, okay…h-hi to those, too." She bent her wrist to wave on the edge of her pillow. "Hi, Buffy's Breasts. Uh, again." Yes, last night had actually happened. "Sorry. Didn't, you know, mean to be rude."

They were allowing it to fully cement itself into their brains. It had all been real.

Looking at each other, they wondered why this felt so weird. Where had the self-assuredness gone? Was it the fact they'd been friends almost seven years who'd jumped into the sack without thinking? Was Willow flashing back to Tara? Did Buffy decide that it was a one-off even though she'd said otherwise? What was the reason? This shouldn't have been as uncomfortable as it felt.

"Are-are you guys gonna come out, or are you gonna like, live under there forever?" Dawn cautiously asked, and then they figured it out.

The source of the strangeness was external. Dawn had interrupted what would've been a smooth, waking transition and turned it into a jarring, embarrassing experience. The pair pointed, still hidden by the sheet, in her direction. Relieved sighs – they were secure.

Finally smiling, Buffy mouthed, "Did you just…?" Then she waved and pointed at her chest. Willow had to press her palm to her lips to hold in the laughter, thus confirming that she did indeed. That started the slayer laughing, and the witch had to use her free hand to clamp the other girl's mouth.

"What? I was being polite – can't I be polite?" Willow said, giggling, and not all that silent. "They were very nice. Well, to me, anyway."

That was Buffy's breaking point – cracking up, she rolled into her bedmate, her head finding said bedmate's own chest. "Ditto to these – definitely friendly. Cozy and cushion-y, even."

"Well, sure." Came the agreement. "I mean, they always looked like they might be. Not that I've ever, uh, just completely dropped what I was doing to go, 'Hey, wow – I'm all hot, check out my hotness'; not a self-scoper." She needed to clarify that for reasons unknown. "At all, cause, modest. And besides, I know I'm ranked low on the 'hotness scale.' Far down, right next to the Master."

"Buffy, you know I always try to keep my mind open and be not judgmental, especially when you and vampires are involved, but I'm gonna hafta finally break my streak and say, 'Eww.' With conviction." Then Willow understood what Buffy was trying to say, with poor, dark humor – the slayer thought she was hot. "Also, 'Aww.' With conviction."

Laughter went full steam ahead then, and Dawn was left perplexed. She saw shapes moving, but thankfully her mind didn't speculate what activities could've been transpiring. "Guys? Guys, c'mon! How can you be laughing? I'm here going, 'Wha-huh?' and you're over there doing…stuff, so obviously not caring, when hey, this isn't normal! Did you hit your heads on an evil, demon rock and get 'demon amnesia' or something? Cause you two are…and I know Buffy's…and I'm like seriously…" She was close to melting down. "What the hell is happening?"

*Now* her mind was speculating, which made her as white as the protective sheets.

"Whoa – geez and crackers." Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head, "No, no, no, no, no, *no way*. I'm not imagining, d-damn it. I'm not imagining…I'm not imagining…" She opened her eyes suddenly, and they were wide as could be. "Oh man. N-n-never mind. I need to be…someplace else. Downstairs – in the kitchen. Smacking myself with a frying pan; then maybe I'll develop 'senility' early, and I won't remember how I was where I'm not right now." She chuckled uneasily. "Look, see? Already kicking in. The pan could still help though, so yeah I…see ya."

Dawn sped from the room. During her rambling, Buffy and Willow had slowly ceased their hysterics, and now that the coast was clear, they poked their heads out.

As Dawn rattled off random, embarrassing moments experienced by her fellow students and they all left the office, the blonde made a mental note to convince the delivery guy to let her buy a few cases of chocolate milk at a reasonable price. The kids could suffer through a brief shortage for a week.

Standing near the edge of the crater that had once been the town of Sunnydale, Buffy smiled as she reflected on that day, knowing there could be many more like it now, if they wanted. Simple and normal. Well, normal-er. And Dawn had been thrilled (after that initial overload). In fact, until the potentials showed, they'd become a rather close-knit family. Picked each other up from work or college, talked about annoying co-workers and funny happenstance on the way home, then had nice, relaxing dinners. Maybe a movie afterwards, followed by her falling comfortably asleep in the arms of her girlfriend. They could have that existence back.

Hope of the mundane, of living peacefully without a world bearing down, excited her more than she could say. Especially because she'd worried for a while that it was an impossible dream. A lot of things transpired in the succeeding months, after all: a bunch of houseguests, "Spike" issues and the resulting "Willow Insecurity," her withdraw from everyone, Faith's return and more "Willow Insecurity," Xander's injury, unkind words…but it didn't break them. The redhead stood by her through all of it, even the worst, not afraid to yell when she had to.

Those were the moments where she feared her life was unsalvageable. Only here they were, survivors and all the stronger. Thanks in part to a philosophy they'd both adopted – you need to make time stop for a little while so you can breathe. If it doesn't seem like a rational idea, that's exactly why it has to be done. But she was mostly damn lucky that things swung in their favor. If that blade had struck a mere inch in the other direction, if Spike hadn't…if she'd been wrong about the scythe…If. Two letters had held their army's fate, and chose to pardon them.

With that thought, and Willow's question as to what they should do next in mind, the enormity of what they'd earned, what they'd accomplished, began to sink in. The blonde collapsed to her knees, tears threatening. She just needed a minute. Or a few decades. It was all very tough to pinpoint.

Flashing back to the breakdown in Xander's arms last year, her girlfriend's heart nearly stopped. She rushed to her side and got down, afraid of what she was seeing. Dawn, Giles, Xander and Faith circled the pair concernedly, but stayed silent while Willow spoke to their leader:

"Buffy," The witch gently called her name, "are you okay?" She didn't notice the slayer still smiling despite the watery eyes, as she continued. "Cause it's all right to not be; today was a huge day, and even huger emotions were kinda a sure thing. I bet they're yelling stuff like, 'Let us outta here, you person!' So nobody's gonna judge – ooh, or worse, point – if you hafta cry a little.

"Plus, I'd glower. Then start witch-slappin'." Everyone watching backed up several steps during the pause. "Um…yeah, it's hard to think about the mall being demon-gobbled, but we can get shoes anytime. Hey, li-like at that new Sole Barn! You know, past the really stinky landfill and all those farms? Comfy, discount feet protection is totally worth the extra drive. We'll just bring nose plugs. Or go when we have colds and can't sniff." Frowning at the no response, she put a hand on her shoulder. "Please talk to me? C'mon, you promised. No bottling allowed – we're lid-free, remember?"

The slayer, one of many, did remember, and wasn't about to seal herself in again. That was against the rules. If it weren't for Willow, she wouldn't have gotten involved in the lives of the people around her. She would've done what she'd always done when the latest Evil bore down relentlessly – she would've shut off. Distanced herself emotionally so she could do her job and feel the losses afterwards.

It worked fine; her mind remained focused on the battle and nothing else. But every time she did that, ever time she put on the "Slayer" hat and reduced her friends to little more than liabilities – which meant it was okay to tune them out – she continued to sever ties with the few people in the world who chose to give a damn about her. It came down ultimately to what she considered to be more important.

Temporarily protecting herself from the fear of losing them, or protecting herself from actually losing them by opening up, so they didn't choose to walk away someday. When Willow put it like that, the latter became her sole option.

Bad things just happened. Devastating, painful things that she did feel, despite her hope for the future. In that school, in that cavern, people died. She knew names, faces, funny anecdotes, and it would make the grief that much worse when it was ready to surface. But even so, she was glad she had gotten to know those who lost their lives. She was proud to have met and fought alongside them; she had made sure they were aware of that, too.

Because connecting with people for any length of time…that was the point of living in the world. It was a hard lesson, but she was finally learning it.

That lesson was partly why she turned around to give the redhead an answer. Also, the act of answering would just be very pleasant. It required ignoring most of the expectant group, though that was okay. Anyone in her shoes would've taken her girlfriend by surprise and happily made out with her in the middle of the street – Andrew being a possible exception.

Her hands on the side of Willow's face, she tasted strawberry lips softly at first, and then somehow it spiraled rather out of control, with the witch's back on the asphalt as a happy, exchange of tongues commenced. Buffy let up to grin, and Willow, though dazed, smiled, pleased by the response.

"K – screw talking." She said without hesitation, however, she then grimaced. "But, uh, hot road. Burning, 'Fry me and chow down,' hot." She hissed, and under different circumstances she would've realized the suggestiveness of that. "Ouch, ouch, ouch! Skin pain! Skin pain!"

Buffy quickly got them both into sitting positions, rubbing her girlfriend's arms soothingly, to distract her. "Sorry, guess I was in the moment."

Willow took a breath. "I'm good – it's only little, 'skin aches' now. Except I think I'm overcooked. Am I overcooked?"

"Maybe you should che –" They suddenly noticed the crowd trying to seem otherwise occupied. "Oh. Look. People. Buffy, there's people."

"Yeah," The blonde agreed, narrowing her eyes at the onlookers, "peeping people."

Faith was the only one who felt comfortable speaking. "Hey, we ain't the ones givin' a free show on a public highway." The couple went red with embarrassment and tried to appear angry. "Whatever. You know you get off on it." She smirked and walked back towards the bus, shaking her head. "Damn, man."

While they would never confirm such an allegation, they would never deny it, either – a non-answer was best for all concerned.

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Cause Falling Just Happens

By Pat Kelly

Copyright © 2003

pat2082@verizon.net