Dianna

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

Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents

A Mad-Hamlet Production

Dianna Wears Red- Primus

Fourth Lesson

Getting across the town to her mothers isn't as difficult 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 stay ...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 comfortable I think I could probably just fall asleep right-

"Hey," a whisper in my ear. "You awake there Will?"

"Huh? Wha...?" My own voice sounds kinda far away.

"You okay hon?" Her voice still whispers in my ear. I love it when Buffy uses endearments. It doesn’t happen often but when it does I 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 had climbed it either sneaking into Buffy's room, or out of it.

Okay, usually she helped me. Excuse me, tree climbing is not my forte.

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.

"I'm okay Buffy," I say. "I can stand up-whoa!"

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 me 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’m 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.

"Ohhh," Buffy snickers, her eyes shining. "Is my girlfriend blushing?"

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 think about it.

"You really mean that?" I answer her question with one of my own. "Anything?"

A swift, sharp, positive nod of ascent is her answer. "Absolutely."

I find my feet endlessly fascinating. Hey, look at that: I forgot my shoes.

"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 maybe 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. Completely. She looks positive and confident and it’s not a show anymore. It’s 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.

Ow, okay it didn't until I thought of it.

"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.

Oh, oh gosh, her hands...they're so hot...so hot...

'Cold shower,' my mind chants like a mantra. 'Must have cold shower.'

Again Buffy slowly pulls away.

"C'mon, I want to take a shower," she says with a smile.

***

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 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 Its 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 both got swatted 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. I 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.

Don't need my psych studies to figure out that analogy.

Okay, so the HST's got themselves a combine harvester. Well, my men and I aren't grain; we’re not just going to stand around next time. They upgraded so we'll upgrade in turn.

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

For the fiftieth time.

***

At Buffy's insistence I take two aspirin with my orange juice.

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-"

Her voice cuts off; Giles must have interrupted her.

"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 for 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 fridge. "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 powers is a major plus."

Buffy 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 a wooden baseball bat.

She sorta comes charging in as well.

"Get out of my kitchen, you demons!" she screams, waving the bat over her head and then stops dead in her tracks.

When Mrs. Summers comes in screaming 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, setting the dishes on the counter and carefully pouring herself a glass of milk. "I know college tuition is expensive but I never quite expected to be labeled as a 'demon'."

"Hi Mrs. Summers." I say with a little wave.

"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." Buffy pushes the plate across the countertop toward her mother.

"Hi Mrs. Summers!" I say again. I wave a second time.

She glances at me, "Hello Willow how-" Her voice breaks off when she gets a good look at me.

"My God Willow,” Mrs. Summers gasps. “What happened to you! Your face, you poor dear are you all right? Who did this to you? Buffy how could you let this happen! What on earth were you two doing?"

These questions are rapid fired at us like a machine gun.

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 jawline 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 manages to meet her mother’s stare but it’s taking visible effort. If you didn't know Buffy, 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, its lessened. The corners of lips begin to flicker. To twitch, a little up, like she's about to smile then 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 it 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 from 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; she glances at me and I can see the guilt on her face, plain 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 wraps her arm around my waist; that’s a little obvious for a platonic gesture, what with us being right in front of her mother.

"Uh...ma," Buffy begins. I don't like the hesitation in her voice. "Mom, there's...mmm...something 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 that’s-"

"Will, I'm tired," Buffy interrupts me.

"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, and a little bored. A 'Ha-ha, nothing happening here officer.' kind of voice.

The way Mrs. Summers’ eyes are narrowing tells me its not working.

"Uh..." she tries to get a word in edgewise.

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

"But...Buffy...I mean..." I stutter. "Your mother?"

"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; you don't blame me. 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 close my eyes in resignation and await the end of the world.

"Is that all?" I hear Mrs. Summers say quietly.

Funny, I didn't think the end of the world would sound quite like that.

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.

"You're...you're not upset Mrs. Summers?" I squeak quietly.

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

Huh? What??

This is unexpected.

"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?" She pours herself a glass of orange juice and takes a large swallow while Buffy and I watch her, stunned into silence.

"Wow Buffy," I finally say, turning toward her. "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."

There’s a gagging sound; Mrs. Summers choking on her orange juice. Coughing a few times she puts her glass on the countertop and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry,” Mrs. Summers says, clearing her throat. “Did you say lovers?"

Oh.

Shit!

***

I toss the files back onto the bedside counter. They tell me nothing more this time then they did the first forty-nine times I read them at least I have committed to memory what little we do have.

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

It’s in the last two that Elizabeth Summers is definitely more interesting.

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.

Course this time she had nothing to do with it, or so the files say.

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. Jeez, the doc was right, I'm healing really 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.

Cool, was just a cramp of some sort.

Going to the locker I toss the medical gown, God I hate those things.

First things first. Shower, shave, breakfast then check up on my men.

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.

"Hey Riley!"

Oh no, Freeman.

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.

"Heard you got pounded last night, you okay?" he asks me not too unkindly.

"Yeah," I nod still staring at my...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 have to 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."

"What squad?" I ask innocently.

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. It’s 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.

I know it!

"No," I say with a small smile, I'm betting he finds in unnerving; that's the point. "No real problems. I’ll 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 there.

Right after I finish my breakfast.

***

"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 is like a solid ringing tone. There's no clue anywhere that she's actually nervous or this is some kind of fake acting thing. Buffy's not scared of her mother, or this situation. I can tell.

Buffy has her arms crossed over her chest now, back straight, her stare is just as solid and, wow...even more intimidating than Mrs. Summer’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!

Buffy silently steps up behind me and puts her hands on my shoulders.

"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 tighten just for a fraction of a second. "We're in a relationship with each other." I look Mrs. Summers dead in the eye when I say that too!

Buffy's hands relax.

"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. Its 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 daises 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....

Pause.

Deep breath.

"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.

I'm a little out of breath too.

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, putting her head in her hands.

"Wow!" Buffy adds a few seconds later.

It is when I've fully caught my breath that I realize what exactly I've done. Namely yelled 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!

Buffy embraces me from behind. "That was awesome!" she giggles into my ear.

Or not.

"It…it was?" I mumble.

Behind me I feel, rather than see, Buffy's nod.

And we're silent again.

"Buffy," Mrs. Summers says. "Are you sure?"

"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 want to have that kind of Willow unleashed on me."

With her arms still around me she shrugs. "I'm the slayer, Mom, not immortal."

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.

"Mom," she asks hesitantly. "You okay?

"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, it’s 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 she 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."

"You noticed that too, huh?" I ask, cocking my head to the side and smiling up at her.

"I have to know Mom," Buffy interrupts, "What exactly did you think Willow and I were talking about, 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'd completely forgotten about it.

I can't help it, I begin to giggle, this sets Buffy off, and 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 eyes 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.

"You girls okay down there?" I hear her ask.

"We're fine, Mrs. Summers," I say.

"Peachy, Mom," Buffy answers.

"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.

"Pancake house, Mom?" Buffy asks.

"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.

"Okay, Mrs. Summers," I answer. "We'll be ready."

I hear Buffy's mother shuffle out of the kitchen. She's probably thinking that this was 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.

"Well," Buffy finally says. "That was easy."

"Easy." I echo.

"Now all we gotta do is tell Giles and the rest,” she finishes her sentence.

I playfully hit her in the ribs.

"Hey!" she half shouts.

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

Buffy only quietly sniggers.

END-Fourth Lesson