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Diana Wears Red -Primus

Sixth Lesson

We've been standing in front of Giles door for about five minutes now.

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

Heck, I'm letting her do all the doin' I'm just along for the ride.

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

Nope. Not happin'.

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

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

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

Was that a rhetorical question?

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

"What of?" Buffy asks gently sitting next to me.

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

"Xander?" Buffy mutters quietly. "You worried about how he'll react?"

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

Buffy nods, "And I've known him since I first got here," she says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Neither do I," I whine. "That's the problem."

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

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

"Who?" I ask.

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

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

"Oh, okay." I nod, "I think I know who you're talking about, what about her?"

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

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

"Picture it," Buffy says. "Go on, close your eyes and picture it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oz?" Buffy asks me quietly. I can hear a little bit of anxiety in her voice.

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

"Oz is in your closet?" Buffy asks, her eyes widening a bit.

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

"Thanks, Buffy." I continue. "You've helped. I think I know."

"Oh?" Buffy says grinning, "What are you then?"

"In love with you," I reply in all seriousness. "And that's all that matters."

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

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

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

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

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

"And its yours," I whisper to her, bringing my lips closer to hers.

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

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

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

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

"So..." I say quietly. Its hard to speak when your smile is this wide.

"So," Buffy echoes.

"Are you gay then?" I ask her, cocking my head to the side.

"Ecstatic," she replies without missing a beat.

"Can we be ecstatic together then?"

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

Then quick as lightning her hands slides down my back and she squeezes my butt.

"Buffy!" I shriek, laughing.

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

"Buffy, Willow," he says calmly. "I didn't hear you knock, is everything well?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maybe you will, Giles." Buffy nods. "Very squeezeable ass, like Charmin."

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

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

"Girlfriend?" I offer.

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

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

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

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

Giles nods and lets me pass without comment.

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

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

Buffy sits down on the floor across from the sofa and I sit down next to her.

"Hey Xander," I say waving at him. "How goes the job?"

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

"Oh." I reply. "Well...uh...how were they?" 

"Boring." Anya interrupts Xander.

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

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

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

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

"Gotcha," Buffy nods. "I should have known."

"Can she lose him?" I ask innocently.

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

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

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

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

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

Buffy just rolls her eyes at that. Even for Xander that's stretching.

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

"Oh I say!" Giles objects loudly. "That is a bit much don't you think?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Um," she continues. "Well, that is I'm not to keen on New Guinea."

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

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

"But with good skiing and great hot chocolate." I add.

"You don't like skiing though," Buffy points out.

"Yes," I hear myself counter. "But I love hot chocolate."

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

"No," I shake my head. "Perfectly good hot chocolate right here."

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

"You're right, Xander." I say quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, without missing a beat he turns back to us. "You're sure then," he says.

With a fierce nod Buffy answers, "Absolutely."

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

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

"Thank you, Giles." Buffy says, I can hear how relieved she is.

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

I turn to look at the source.

Xander.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

I slide into the chair directly across from him.

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

"And?" I reply.

"Would you care for anything?" He asks gesturing to the menu laying unopened beside him. "This establishment is rather good, I'll have you know. I rather enjoy their selections of pasta."

"No." I shake my head. Our table is in a corner, the walls are paned glass on the top floor of a two-story building. The sun is high in the sky;  hanging there master of its environment with no clouds to deny its power. Similar rooftops, all the exact same color can be seen all lined up, all in neat orderly rows, screaming out to all the diners that this is the ultimate progress of mankind. Identical houses, identical families, identical incomes.

 I'm in Hell.

"You know why we called for you?" My contact asks, placing his napkin in his lap.

His timing in impeccable, soon a waiter comes sweeping by with a large platter heaped with steaming pasta. Rivulets of yellow butter slide and ooze between the cracks and valleys of that Italian mountain. Cheese sauce drips from one strand to the next like a coagulating bond, the odors attack; I wrinkle my nose while my stomach lurches. Disgusting. The waiter leaves promptly after wishing the gentleman 'bon appetite'. Was he kidding?

"You want me to hunt something," I reply after the waiter moves suitably far away; probably to offer another platter of this garbage to some other fool.

"Someone." He corrects, twirling his fork in the pasta glue he gathers up a large ball of the gunk and shovels it into his mouth. He sighs in satisfaction as he chews it and, eventually, swallows. I study the passing cars intently but I can still hear the chewed pasta sliding down his throat. I don't think my hearing is good enough to hear it splash in his stomach but I can imagine all the noxious gasses it will release into his system. I squirm uncomfortably is my seat. I hope I can get out the blast radius before it goes critical.

"The Slayer actually," he continues around another mouthful of pasta. I thought the British were supposed to be very polite.

"The Slayer?" I ask. "I thought she was your ultimate weapon."

"Oh she is," he says, and takes a small sip of his wine. Wiping his mouth with the napkin he continues. "But this one is rather difficult. She has rejected our advice and now works alone."

I move to stand up, "I don't care what debt I owe you," I snarl. "I don't do wetwork!"

"Please," he says giving me a smile that I've seen in on a hundred different faces, usually a split second before I smash them in, this one time I have to restrain myself. "Let me clarify, we don't want you to do anything like that. You have my word."

Right. His word. Reluctantly I sit down again.

"We don't need your services for anything distasteful such as your perceived wetwork," he says quietly.

"Of course not," I interrupt. "You have your own personal cartel of assassins."

He doesn't rise to the bait, just has another sip of his wine. "This Slayer has recently acquired a problem, one that only we can help her with."

"What kind of problem?" I ask carefully.

"One that is none of your business." He replies flatly. "However I can tell you that it is a detrimental condition one that will eventually kill her if we do not intervene."

"So why do you need me?"

He does the fork twirl, eat pasta routine again. "She does not trust us," he says after swallowing.

"Gosh, there's a shocker," I say interrupting his little speech.

He ignores my insult and continues speaking. "If we came forward to offer our services she would not accept them." He pauses then smiles at some internal joke. "Her pride would be her downfall, if we were not generous enough to step in and force the situation."

Generous.

Uh....I decide not say anything to his face, wouldn't be worth it.

"The Slayer, one Buffy Summers currently attending Sunnydale University," he pauses. "Rather humorous don't you think? A Slayer seeking higher education, as if there is anything she needs to know that we cannot teach her." I'm hoping that was a rhetorical question.

"Be that as it may," he says scooping up some sauce on a piece of garlic bread, ugh. "You are to intercept her, capture her and bring her to us unharmed; and we mean completely unharmed. So no drugs."

"Hold it," I say holding up my hand to interrupt him. "I know the stories, on a physical level Slayers are supposed to be meanest things on the block and you're saying I can't use a simple dart gun?"

"There must be no residual drugs in her system for our cure to work." He says shaking his head. His tone is like somewhat explaining something simple to an errant child.

"Then how the hell am I supposed to capture her?" I ask.

"Well," Again he wipes his mouth, this time with the back of his hand. "One of the side effects of her condition is an increase in bestial behavior."

"What?"

"She acts like an animal, a predator. You can outthink an animal can't you? You are a hunter after all." Again the 'Please Hit Me Smile'. I really want to oblige.

"All right," I say standing up. "I'll do it but after this the scales are even. I'm done with you and yours, got that?"

Still smiling he answers, "Perhaps."

I stalk away from the table leaving him to finish his lunch, if there's any justice he'll have a heart attack right there but my luck doesn't work that way. "Oh, er...happy hunting!" he calls after me.

"Fuck you." I snap without turning around.

***

I'm sitting on the sofa.

After Xander storms out of Giles house, away from me, away from Buffy....

After Xander runs away nobody says anything except for Anya, she whines a bit about losing her XanderPillow and where can she rest her head now but a Giles Glare quiets her down.

Buffy stands up and pulls me to my feet, which is good because I don't think I could stand up on my own. Giles is ignoring the two of us staring at a book and trying to not notice anything peculiar going on and that the two women, with their faces inches apart, are in no way behaving out of sorts. He'd look a lot more convincing if he wasn't holding the book upside down.

Anya has seated herself in front of Giles dilapidated television and is seeking some sort of entertainment. Since Giles doesn't have cable though, there's nothing worth watching.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to no one in particular. I don't know why I do it, just seems like the right thing to do.

"Hush," Buffy whispers, she runs a finger along the bridge of my nose, a romantic gesture meant to comfort but I don't feel anything. I know she did it because I saw her do it, not because I felt it. "Don't apologize," she keeps whispering, "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I feel like I did," I sniff, I don't want to cry but I'm thinking it'll happen no matter what. "Xander hates me. I made him feel that way, so I did something wrong, don't you see?"

As far as I'm concerned my logic is flawless.

"Xander doesn't hate you," Buffy admonishes me, the words hissing between clenched teeth. The fierceness of her tone is enough to get my attention and I blink a few times, willing the tears away so I can focus on her.

"He's just wigged, that's all." Buffy continues.

"Are you sure?" I whimper.

"Yes," Buffy says and her voice rings with conviction.

"How can you know?" I press the issue. Taking me by the shoulders Buffy walks me to the sofa and I sit down, I manage to do that on my own. She sits besides me, putting her face only a hairsbreadth from my right ear. "Don't tell anyone," she whispers to me and that makes me blink, tell anyone what? "I could smell his fear," Buffy finishes.

"Fear?" I whimper quietly. "I scared my Xander friend? I did that?"

"Nonononono," Buffy says hastily, "Not of you, of the change...I think. He'll come around, don't worry."

"I hope so," I whisper back to her. "I don't want to lose Xander."

"You won't," Buffy assures me, she grabs me in a one armed embrace and again strokes the length of my nose with her other hand. This time I feel a little. "Though he'll have some major apologizing to do. Now, I have to talk to Giles about those guys who attacked us, you going to be okay?"

I nod but I don't say anything.

She kisses me quickly on the cheek and turns to face Giles who has intently ignored us the entire time. He's still holding the book wrong way around though. They quickly begin talking about stuff but my attention isn't focused on them. It's nowhere really, except maybe on my hands. They're resting on my knees and they can't seem to keep still. First the little finger on my right hand starts to twitch and I stop that, so my left thumb starts to tapping a beat to a song I hate, why is it when emotions are going crazy you can only remember the music you can't stand?

I try and distract my musical fingers by watching Anya channel flip.

'This just in-'

Click.

'Life sure is easier with my K-Mart Salad Shooter!'

Click.

'Next week on WB-'

Click.

'Fire photon torpedoes, full spread-'

Click.

'Low interest rates!'

Click.

I quickly decide that Anya is as good at channel flipping as any male and getting the controller from her will probably be about as hard. I stand up and Buffy glances at me.

"Goin' outside," I smile down at her, or try to.

"Um," she says. "Okay. Want company?"

"No," I shake my head. "I'll be okay just-" I pantomime someone using a remote control. Buffy grimaces slightly and nods her head.

"Willow," Giles says. "I'll want to speak to you later in case Buffy missed anything in her telling of your attackers."

"Not much to remember," I say with a shrug. "They came in, I got hit, everything went black. That covers it. I'll be right outside."

And before anyone can say anything else, to ask me if I'm sure for the umpteenth time, see if I want a coke, need a moment to myself, or anything else of an endless assortment of useless platitudes I'm out the door, shutting it behind me quietly.

I sit back down on the brick, garden thing where Buffy and I had our heart to heart not half an hour ago. Funny, it seems a lot longer. The sun is directly overhead but not very harsh, there's enough of a canopy from the trees in the corners to soften it so I'm not uncomfortable, not on the outside at least.

I watch the branches sway a bit as a small breeze blows between the buildings, the branches wave back and forth and a single leaf falls away, its a yellow leaf, different from the others. They're still green and this one is yellow. I watch it fall, float really, spinning, tumbling, blown about this way and that way but always down till it lands on the cement, and all over the ground are other yellow leaves but no green ones. They're all still on the tree.

"Will?"

I spin around and Xander is standing there. He looks miserable, his hands clasped behind his back, shoulders slumped, nibbling at the corner of his lip, he's staring at his shoes too.

"I...uh..." he says, still not looking up.

"You, y'know...you can...uhm," I stutter, swallow and start over. "It's okay to have the eye contact thing, Xander. I'm kinda used to it."

He blushes a bit, and raises his head so he's looking at me. "I ...wanna apologize. I reacted...”

"Badly," I fill in the blank.

"That's not it," he shakes his head. "I mean, yeah I did, sure walking away and everything but...I wasn't angry Will, that's the thing."

"You weren't angry...then," I reply slowly. "Why the glare, turn, walk out, slam door bit?"

"Hey," Xander objects a little loudly. He flushes slightly and continues in his normal voice,  "I didn't slam the door, that was Anya."

"You still glared," I say shaking my finger at him. "I don't like it when you glare, Xander. It made me feel terrible, like I had done something wrong."

Xander doesn't say anything for a few seconds, just stares at me. He's thinking about something, what to say next, it's easy to tell cause he lips quiver like he's pretending to speak what he's thinking. Finally he stops and shuffles across the patio to sit down on the brick thingie, I sit down next to him.

"Actually," he says very slowly. "I kinda am thinking you did do something wrong."

I try to leap to my feet, I plan on leaping to my feet, spinning around and knocking him silly but he keeps talking, very rapidly at this point.

"No, not what you're doing," he says quickly. "That's fine I mean it's okay with me...and no that's not right, I don't have a problem. Damnit I hate political correctness!!" He fumes.

"Okay, okay," he says holding out his hands trying to buy some time. "Gimmie a second."

"One. one thousand," I growl. I'm still tempted to stand up and do something violent. Just a little violent.

"How literal," he replies, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Look, I'm not upset at you and Buffy being together and where would I get off being upset in the first place? Its not my life, you're not my kids or anything like that and even if you were it'd still be your own lives. So the you and Buffy thing great, I mean why not?"

"I'm so happy you approve," I mutter with my teeth clenched. I lean forward, getting a little bit into Xander's personal space. "How does this make me doing something wrong?"

"Because you didn't tell me." He snaps back, staring me right in the eyes.

WHAT?

"Now, just hear me out," he says, again with the placating hands only I'm in no mood to be placated.

"Alexander Harris!" I think I shout, maybe I just hiss it fiercely. I do know I stand up this time. "A lot has happened and I'm just sorting it out for myself, it's confusing and wonderful and scary and new and a lot of other things that I can't phrase right now but, should I be able too,  the next time something similar happens I'll write you a memo!"

Xander, to his credit, takes it on the chin. "Okay," he says after mulling for a second. "I deserved that and I know that it's unreasonable of me to expect you to tell me, I know it's not fair to be hurt simply because you kept mum for a bit. I know that here," he taps his temple. "But I don't know it here," and he taps his chest. "Or if I do, then it’s not listening."

"And what about my hurt?" I snap back at him. It's not as vehement as before though, he's got a bit of a point, and I have been kinda scarce with the sharing. But...but that's what we're doing now, Buffy and I, I mean what we're trying to do.

"You glared Xander!" I say shaking my head. "You glared at me! It was a mean glare, a...a...very mean glare. A 'I don't like Angelus' glare. But it was at me!"

I start pacing back and forth in front of him still ranting. "It was me you were giving an Angelus class glare too! That hurt, and then you walked away, you walked away from me, metaphorically and literally turning your back on me, on us! On the Buffy and me us thing! How do you think that made me feel?" I finish turning in place to face him.

"Ah..." He ahs. "Yeah, that. Well..."

He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small carton of Ben & Jerry’s Cookies and Cream.

He holds it out to me, he even got a wooden spoon.

I snatch it from his hands, rip of the top, it’s the kind with Oreo’s!

I glance at him and can't help but smile a bit. "Bribery will get you anywhere." I say dipping my finger into the cold yummy. I lick the ice cream off my finger. "Mmmmm."

"So I've been told," Xander shrugs. "Apology accepted?" he asks hopefully.

I put the lid back on, and put the ice cream carton down on the brick thing. "I don't know," I say crossing my arms. "I...I didn't mean to not tell you"

"I didn't not tell you, I mean that’s why we're here, to tell." Again I begin pacing. "You're my oldest friend, Xander and...it just... I was really concerned about how you'd take the news about me and Buffy and your actions confirmed my worst fears. And we're...we're like this!" I say twisting my pointer and middle finger around each other. "What about others? Others who I don't know so well? Like...uh..." I let my hands drop to my sides. "Like my parents?"

Xander stands up and walks besides me. He takes my hand and looks me in the eyes. "I don't know, Willow," he says. "But I do know that I'll be there for you, no matter what. Whenever or however you need me. When you tell your parents, to hide you from your parents or anybody else if I have too. I'll always be there because as you said," and he holds up his other hand with the fingers wrapped around each other. "We're like this."

I can't help but giggle a bit at that.

"I'm really sorry," he continues saying. "I've never..." he shakes his head. "I've never had a gay friend before."

"No!" I say loudly pulling my hands away from him and taking a step back. "That's not it at all Xander! Don't you understand? I haven’t changed! Okay, I don't really care for male companionship in the romantic sense anymore, but I'm still Willow! Don't you get that?"

I want to grab the collar of his jacket and give him a good shaking.

I settle for walking around him, sitting down on the brick thing and grabbing the ice cream carton. Taking off the top I eat another finger full of ice cream. Minty.

"I'm not even sure I'm gay." I murphle around a frozen Oreo.

"Uh." Xander replies. "Willow, you're a woman and Buffy's a woman, doesn't that sorta...I mean...don't you think you're gay?"

"Nope," I shake my head.

"Why not?" Xander reaches for the carton but I pull it out of his reach.

"Mine!" I say fiercely. "Anyhow, I don't think I'm gay because I know I don't want to sleep with Catherine Zeta Jones."

That throws him. Xander stands there, blinking slowly. "That's...uh...that's good," he says. "I think she's married to Michael Douglas anyways."

"She is?" I tear the wrapping off the wooden spoon. "But he's so old!"

Xander shrugs. "Hollywood types. Who can figure em'?" he sits down again, I'm careful to keep the ice cream out of reach though. "So...I offended again with the 'gay' thing?"

I shake my head and hold up a hand, asking for time to swallow my current mouthful of ice cream. "No," I gasp. Wow, that's cold. Good, but COLD!! "Its the idea that the label comes first before me."

"Huh?" Xander scratches his head.

"First off," I tick one finger. "I'm not sure I'm gay and by that I mean I'm not sure if I'd be interested in any other woman save Buffy, maybe, maybe not. The current situation is that I am in love with a person named Buffy Summers who happened to be born with two X chromosomes rather than an X and a Y chromosome." I finish off with a mild glare, daring him to say anything. Xander is wisely silent.

"Second," I tick off another finger. "Even if I knew I was a totally gay person, having nothing to do with the male gender forever that still doesn't mean I'm your gay friend. It means I am your friend who also happens to be gay! Can't you understand that?"

Xander scratches his chin a bit and peers off into the distance thoughtfully. "I think so," he says. "It's like I don't have a ex-demon girlfriend, I just have a girlfriend who was once a demon. But..." he turns to me. "Isn't this getting a little close to political correctness? That which you have claimed to hate?"

"I dunno," I answer with a shrug. I take another spoonful of ice cream and chew. "Ith juth tha," I swallow. "It's just that I'm Willow, Xander. I don't want you to think of me as 'Now-Gay-Willow' or even 'Now-Sleeping-With-Another-Woman-Willow'. Does that match up?"

"Well yeah, sure!" Xander says. "But that's also the impossible dream, Wills. Everybody wants to be valued for who they are and not limited to what labels people slap on em'. But people are gonna think of you as gay when, not if, when they find out about you and Buffy."

I nod, he's right but he missed the point. "You missed the point Xander. I know all that and I'm fully prepared to expect it, but I don't want it from you, from family. You know me, I know you. You could go out and...I dunno..." I lick some ice cream off the wooden spoon. "Go out and become...become..."

"A star?" he asks hopefully.

"Okay, a star." I reply with a shrug. "But while all the new friends you'd make, the hanger-ons, the moguls, wheeler dealers, the directors would know you as-"

"You left out exotic actresses," Xander interrupts, beeping me on the nose, with his finger.

"And exotic actresses," I add, playfully swatting his hand away. "They'd only know you as 'Star-Xander'. But to me, no matter how famous or rich you got I'd always know you as 'Barbie-Kidnapper-Xander' and 'Xander-Who-Skateboarded-Into-A-Bannister-When-He-Saw-Buffy-The-First-Time.'"

I put down the now half empty carton of ice-cream, gotta save some for Buffy, she likes Oreo’s too, and take Xander's hands. "You'd be Xander-Xander, maybe not to everybody, but to me you'd always be. I'm asking that you remember I'm always Willow-Willow."

Xander squeezes my hands. "You're not just Willow-Willow," he says. "You're Willow-Willow-Willow-WILLOW-Willow."

"Uh," I cock my head to one side. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head on a rock while buying me ice-cream?"

He chuckles, and with a slight shake of his head says, "Positive, we cool now?"

"Yeap," I nod. "But it was a near thing, the ice-cream saved your butt."

"Ice-cream has distinctive butt saving properties," Xander points out, waving a finger in the air imperiously. "However too much of it results in Butt-Adding properties. Got to watch out for that y'know." He waves his finger in my face like he's talking to a child.

"My butt is liked just fine," I say snootily, try to sound like an aristocrat.

Xander doesn't say anything to that and probably saves his own life.

"You're not safe though," I say. "You still gotta apologize to Buffy and with HER appetites its going to be three cartons of ice cream at least."

Xander groans and melodramatically clasps his hands to his face, much like that Home Alone brat. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet and examines the contents. Apparently he doesn't like what he finds.

"Uh..." He says. "Willow...?" he asks me hopefully.

I shake my head and give an exaggerated sigh, "Yes Xander, I'll help."

He grins at me and neither of us say anything for a time, just being friends.

"So...uh..." Xander says after a few seconds. He's tapping his index fingers together. "How about a hug to mark the occasion."

"Humm," I say melodramatically, resting my face in my hands. "Now that I have broken free of male oppression could this be a lure, a trap, to draw me into my doom?"

Xander snickers evilly and pantomimes a villain rolling his mustache. "You'll never be free of male oppression, snerk, snerk, snerk."

"Oh," I say with a shrug. "Then I'll take the hug. Might as well get something good out of the deal."

I stand up, holding my arms open, I'm ready to give my oldest friend a hug to confirm that all is forgiven. Xander uses humor a lot to get by the rough spots in his life, the jovial energy he has is a good shield. Sometimes though it slips and now is one of those times. As he prepares to give me a Xander-Hug(Which these days consists of lifting the recipient off their feet and spinning around really fast.) he eyes show real relief and gratitude.

I don't really like Xander hugs, I get nauseated just looking at a roller coaster but sacrifices must be made I suppose.

"YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT?!" Buffy's voice is so loud the window panes rattle in their frames.

Xander shoots me a concerned look before turning to rush back to Giles.

Xander throws the door open ready to rush in recklessly and I'm right behind him; we're intercepted by Anya who throws herself into Xander's arms with the cry of: "Xander! I was so worried about you!"

Xander glances down at the blonde wrapped around him, "I was gone for fifteen minutes, An." He pauses and than a goofy looking smile appears on his face. "You were worried about me?"

"Not really," she replies with a shrug. "All the couples I see on television seem to enjoy it when someone they care about says stuff like that."

Xander's smile vanishes, "Oh." He pauses. "You care though, right?"

Anya reaches up and pats him on the cheek, "We have sex right? That means I care." She glances over his shoulder at me. "So you two have made up then?"

"Yeah, we're cool," Xander says hurriedly. "An, what's going on in here, we heard Buffy shouting!"

"Oh that," Anya poo poo's with a wave of her hand, "Buffy was just telling Giles how much she enjoyed running around at night killing vampires without clothes."

Xander's eyes almost cross when he tries to process that sentence. It confuses me too and I know what's going on.

"Buffy's slaying naked vampires?" Xander asks tentatively.

"Um," I try and interrupt quietly.

Behind Xander and Anya I can see Buffy and Giles.

"Listen to me Buffy," Giles says. "They'll help you."

"No, no," Anya shakes her head. "Buffy's the naked one."

"I wouldn't say naked exactly," I try say absently, trying to overhear Buffy and Giles.

"Help? Help how?" Buffy's shout is shrill, I wince. She's not happy.

"Buffy's running around naked on patrol?" Xander's voice climbs an octave as he says it.

"Technically she is naked," I concede, my mouth switches over to 'automatic'. "But not vulnerable naked, or sexy naked. I think nude would be a more correct term."

"Yes, that's right." Anya replies to Xander. "But what I want to know is whether you're okay with Buffy and Willow having sex."

I let that pass, I'm still trying to hear Buffy's conversation.

"I can't believe you!" Buffy shouts stalking back and forth in front of the sofa. Giles, standing behind the sofa holds something in his hands that I can't quite make out.

"Yeah An, Buffy and Willow, peachy, great, having no problems with it." Xander says impatiently. "What I don't get is this Buffy running around naked thing!"

"Nude is still a better term." I mumble.

"Please Buffy," Giles says in an exasperated tone. "You have to put them on. It's for your own good!"

"Why?" Buffy spins to face Giles, her eyes bright and angry.

"Okay Xander," Anya says. "Let me break this down for you. Buffy. That clear?"

"Uh-huh," Xander says with a nod.

"Buffy, you don't understand," Giles says still holding the whatever it is that Buffy is raging over.

"Running around Sunnydale," Anya continues. "So far so good?"

"Uh-huh," Xander nods again.

"Then explain it to me," Buffy rages, resuming her angry walk back and forth, back and forth.

"Killing vampires and demons, just like she's always done," Anya keeps saying slowly and patiently. "Still with me?"

"Yes, An." Xander snaps.

"It's-it's all rather complicated," Giles replies to Buffy, I notice he's slowly backing away from where Buffy is pacing and he looks nervous.

"And she's doing it naked." Anya concludes, crossing her arms and giving Xander a triumphant smirk.

Okay, that's it.

"Buffy is not naked!" I shout at the top of my lungs, squeezing my eyes shut with the effort. "She's nude okay? Nude, natural, part of the great outdoors, beautiful and wild and free, not writhing on some greasy stage for pocket change kind of naked!!"

Silence.

Peeking one eye open I see everyone staring at me. Oh boy, not again.

"Willow!" Buffy cries out and jumps over the sofa to pull me into a heartfelt embrace. Surprising but not unwelcome. After a few moments of being hugged I put my arms back around her, the awkwardness of being actually...uh...romantic with Buffy in front of my friends dismissed.

Of course Buffy ups the ante, squeezing me tighter; then before I can get a word out planting a soft, sweet but oh so very lingering kiss on my lips.

Her fingers knead the muscles just below my shoulder blades and I melt against her, my legs losing strength as Buffy sweeps me into a wonderful sense of not caring about when's or where's just us's. The kiss ends and we're leaning against each other, eyes closed, foreheads touching, hearing, feeling, tasting the other's breath.

"Wow," I get out after a second. "That was unexpected. Very nice, very unexpected, but very nice. Did I do anything to deserve such a welcome? I wanna know so I can do it more often."

"I missed you," Buffy whispers, I can hear her smile. "That good enough?"

"Very!" I whisper back to her, nodding. "Though I think I'll make sure you don't miss me that much. Being around you constantly has certain advantages."

"Oh goody," Buffy whispers back. She hunches forward and her voice gets even softer so I have to really try so I can hear what she says next. "Everything okay?"

"Think so," I murmur to her. "It was, but this might have...surprised Xander." I open one eye and peek at where Xander is standing. He's slumped forward slightly, his jaw hanging open. Anya is standing beside him looking bored.

"That, that, that," Xander repeats, swallows and manages to say: "That was the coolest thing I have ever seen!"

Anya doesn't reply, just rolls her eyes.

I stop watching them. "I think Xander blew a fuse." I mumble. I can't see it but I know Buffy is smiling.

"Ladies," A sharp British voice breaks into our solitude. "I'm sorry to interrupt but Buffy and I were in the middle of a rather important conversation." Buffy pulls away from me and turns to give Giles the meanest look. "No," she says in a clipped voice. "You were talking, I was ignoring you."

Giles face flushes with ...anger? Giles is angry or...?

"Giles?" I say as gently as I can. "What's going on, are...are you scared of something?"

Wearily Giles reaches up and takes off his glasses; walking around the sofa, and in doing so he again puts the sofa between him and Buffy, he sits down in his regular chair with a heavy sigh.

"Giles? Scared?" Xander says in an unbelieving tone, the same one people probably used back in the fourteen century, 'The world? Round?'

"Not exactly scared of," Giles says rubbing his forehead. "Scared for would be a more apt phrase."

"Whatever," Buffy mutters. "I'm still not wearing those stupid things."

"What things Buffy?" I ask turning to face her. "What did Giles ask you to do? What happened after I left?"

"Not much," Anya interrupts. "Buffy told Giles that she's been running around naked, killing stuff, and Giles told her she couldn't do that any more; that it was, in fact, very, very bad for her and not only did she have to go back to wearing clothes but she'd also have to wear these leather gloves all the time."

Xander looks at Buffy, than at Giles, than back to Buffy. "Not going for the whole Lady Godiva thing huh, Giles?"

"No, nothing of the sort Xander, none of you understand!" Giles says hunching forward in his chair.     

"Then explain it already!" I say throwing my hands up in the air. "What do you think is wrong with Buffy, and why on earth do you want her to wear gloves?"

"Sensory deprivation," Buffy snarls. "He doesn't want me to touch or feel anything anymore."

"No!" Giles says firmly, lurching to his feet. "I just want to weaken it, Buffy, you have to understand, you have to...to...know..." his voice falters. "Look, please Buffy, just put them on, don't go out at night anymore like you have been. You...you simply have to trust me."

"Know what?" I say moving in front Buffy. "What do we have to know Giles?"

"Willow," Giles voice breaks. "Please, don't...you say you love Buffy, then get her to do this little thing for me." He holds out his right hand and in his grip I can now see clearly the two gloves, made out of shiny black leather, held in his clenched fist.

"Never!" I shout, slapping his hand away. The gloves land in a pile on the TV set. "It's bad enough you' ve gotten all closed mouth on us, but-"

I stop talking and take a good look and Giles. He's not looking at me, his eyes are on the gloves, looking at where they landed and he's eyeing them with a sense of desperation. An image flashes in my head of a man standing before a caged predator and he's looking at a broken lock. Giles stares at the gloves and then, slowly, he turns and looks at Buffy and what he is feeling is all too clear.

"You are afraid!" I say accusingly, I even point my finger at him. "You're not afraid for Buffy but you're afraid of her." I glance at Buffy but she doesn't seem to perturbed, she's just staring at Giles, her eyes hooded. She looks a little bored actually.

Xander isn't saying anything either, he's watching us all carefully but his insistence for answers has been derailed, for the moment.

"How could you?" I lecture Giles. "How could you be scared of Buffy? She's your Slayer and what could she do that's so wrong, so terrifying, that you have to be afraid of her? Look at me, I'm with her all the time and nothing bad has happened."

"The opposite actually," I hear Buffy say, more to herself than out loud. I don't let her comments stop me; I'm on a roll.

"What happened to all that trust you had for her?" I admonish Giles. He hasn't stopped staring at Buffy though so I'm not totally sure he's hearing me. Doubtful though, I think I'm being loud enough for the East Coast to hear me.

"You're standing there acting all mysterious and giving these really weird instructions, telling Buffy to wear gloves! Gloves!!" Giles face pales as he listens to me to yell at him. He tries to back away but his chair is right behind him so he has nowhere to go.

"What the heck are gloves going to do?" I clench my hands into fists but make sure to keep them at my sides. "And you're doing all this while not telling us anything and you lie right to us at the same time. 'Scared for.'" I mimic someone spitting. "Right, sure, whatever. You are scared, Giles. Scared, not for Buffy, but OF Buffy."

I'm not aware I'm running out of breath until Buffy rests her hands on my shoulders and I realize I'm feeling a little woozy. What is it with me today? I've yelled at the best two adults I know and it's not even after lunch yet!

"Shush," Buffy murmurs, pulling me against her gently. "It's alright Will. It's okay, I knew he was scared but he still means well."

"You knew?" I whimper; I struggle a bit to look over my shoulder enough so I can see Buffy's face.

"Yeah," Buffy says quietly. "Same was as I could tell about Xander." She scrunches up her nose.

I nod silently. Buffy doesn't want this little trick to get around so we're being sneaky.

"Oh dear God," Giles blurts. "You can pick up emotions!" Apparently we're not being sneaky enough. Giles seems to wilt under the pull of gravity and slumps back into his chair. "I had no idea it had progressed so far." He admonishes himself.

"Uh...what exactly had progressed so far?" Xander asks the question first.

Sighing again, Giles pulls himself out of his chair again. Up, down, up, down. I'd be getting dizzy. Walking to his a box of books under the TV stand Giles starts studying the bindings. After a moment he pulls one out and blows dust off the cover. He flips through the pages rapidly, not seeming to care if he damages the obviously ancient text in the process.

Giles loves books, and if he's treating one this way...

"'She who Slays the Dark of Night,'" Giles reads, looks like he found what he was looking for. My stomach begins to tie itself in a knot. Nothing good has ever come out of these books. "Is the meeting of two forces; Order and Chaos. Normally these aspects of what she is are balanced though a firm and guiding hand is always better. It has been recorded that the balance can be lost and Chaos gains dominion of The Slayers soul.'"

Xander's hand snakes down and takes Anya's, who is also paying attention. I echo Xander's movements, sorta, and place one hand on top of the one Buffy's still resting on my shoulder.

Giles walks across the room toward us still reading, "'That balance, having been forsaken, shall blossom forth in the Chosen One, new gifts, new abilities and the elder ones shall become of greater magnitude than before.'"

"That doesn't sound so bad," Xander interjects. I nod, but Giles' reaction doesn't add up to what sounds like, so far, not so bad news.

Giles doesn't even pause to listen to us, "'Beware though for as the Chaos grows in power so too shall The Slayer become uncontrollable. Given to wanton acts of heedless destruction, scouring any or all things be they her prey, her protectorates, or her protectors. This will eventually cumulate in an orgy of such random destruction that it will swallow The Slayer herself, leaving only the dead and dying in it's murderous wake, herself included.'"

I feel Buffy's hand start to tremble underneath my own. "'Discipline is her only savior.'" Giles reads, I want him to stop, I want him to stop reading. I want to tear that book out of his hands and burn it, burn all the books with all their bad tidings and bad...bad...things!

"'The Council must do any and all things, go to any extreme to force Order upon their charge; to reestablish the balance; to reacquire the blessing of the Light and return the Chosen One to that which she was before: Their weapon against the Dark.'"

Giles takes off his glasses and slowly closes the book, his eyes lock on Buffy and he continues speaking, he's reciting the rest of the passage from memory. "'I call upon you, my brothers in the Council, to do any and all things should such a fate befall your watches.'" As he speaks his voice starts fading, growing steadily quieter and softer.

"' The struggle must endure, do not let your Slayers fall, lace your feelings well against sympathy or remorse for they are the enemy now.'" Giles stares at Buffy as he recites, his eyes glazing over. All the blood seems to drain out of his face so the bright sunlight slicing through the window cuts hard shadows across his face.

"' Should you fail and The Slayer's balance is lost she will not be recorded in history as the Warrior, but as what she will become: An animal, a bloodthirsty beast of earth, field and ocean. Let not this happen my brethren, deny this thing it's day and save your charge from becoming-'" Giles voice breaks and he can't keep his head up. He turns away from us and, swallowing convulsively, chokes out the last words.

"' The Feral.'"

The silence has teeth. Wide and long in stretches before us all. I can’t hear anything, just feel. The bile that just flooded up my throat leaves a burning trail that goes all the way back down to my stomach. Behind me I can feel the, almost...almost gentle trembling of Buffy's body against mine. I can feel her hand, so warm a second before, become cool and clammy. My own feels hot, too hot and covered in sweat so it might not be Buffy's fault, the clammy I mean. She could just be getting cold I'm the causing the clammy.

Xander swallows, I hear it even though it's a quiet sound, I hear it clearly. Giles sets the book down on the tabletop and the slither of it's leather cover against the wooden surface sounds, to me, like something reptilian and cold, hissing from it's lair.

Buffy tenses, I can’t see her, but I feel it. There’s no giveaway, she doesn’t grab my hand any tighter or anything but she tenses. I react, tightening my own grip so when she does run I won’t be left-

Buffy tries to yank free when she turns to run, but I don’t let her go. I won’t let her go! Somehow I hang on even though she is many, many times stronger than I am. I hold on though, not letting her leave me behind.

She throws open the door and rushes outside with me right behind her. I don’t hear anyone behind us; no one is shouting our name trying to get Buffy to stop or anything. They’re probably still stuck in that stunned silence thing.

My shoulder hurts, she’s pulling away from me and I can’t stretch my arm any farther, she keeps this up either my shoulder will be pulled from its socket of I’ll get left behind. The former is a possibility, I can see that happening, I’m willing to let that happen but no way in Hell will I let Buffy leave me behind.

Legs must go faster…must go faster…

Can’t…breathe. Throat hurts; legs …aren’t there. Can’t feel them. Buffy’s not slowing down, s’okay though, I’ll keep up, I’ll keep up…won’t let her get away, won’t abandon her, won’t leave her.

Won’t …haah….haah…betray her.

Run faster. Must…must run faster.

***

The sun is setting. The orange glow filters through the heavy canopy overhead. I open my mouth and breathe deeply. The stench of that fat idiot and his pasta still lingers in my throat. Or it could be just the memory. I take another deep breath, willing the clean air to purge the memory and lingering odor. That’s the problem though, this air isn’t pure. It’s not polluted, well, not in comparison, the nearest road is a good twenty clicks away. Yet there is something wrong here, a vibe, a push that is telling me that something here is off. Twisted in a very minor way but still unmistakable and very old. Of course I know what it is.

The Hellmouth.

I stand in a small clearing deep in the woods. Directly to my west is the University where my prey attends classes. I’ve spent the afternoon searching these woods for signs of her passage but so far there haven’t been any. That leaves two options:

Either she’s that good, which I doubt, or she does most of her travelling via the trees.

Have to change my thinking. If she’s acting bestial, giving in to her baser instincts that means she might have adopted certain traits. She’s a hunter, a predator and that would mean she has a territory. What would she mark her territory with? Spoor? Bodily wastes? The idiot said she’s acting bestial, not becoming a beast; still means it’s possible but I’d doubt it. Kills then, but small piles of vampire ashes don’t make a good marker. Possibly demon bodies. Okay lets see if we can find something like that then, if that doesn’t work we’ll hit the trees, see what we can find up there.

First things first though, I’m going to find something to kill, and eat.

***

The darkness is comforting, but not absolute. A dull orange glow pokes past my closed eyelids but it’s the pounding in my skull that demands I wake up.

"You're awake." Buffy says, staring up at me.

I look around quickly. We’re in her bedroom at her house. I’m lying on her bed with the pillows all fluffed up around me. Buffy herself is also lying on the bed, using my lap as her own pillow.

"How did we…?" I start to say.

"I carried you, " Buffy interrupts me gently. "You wouldn’t let go of my hand, Willow. I tried to shake you off but you wouldn’t let go. " She says it in a faint whisper, like she can’t believe it happened.

"You were going to fall, " Buffy continues. "You must have tripped on something and were falling and I had two choices: Keep running and drag you behind me or catch you."

"You caught me," I say to her quietly.

"Always." Buffy replies. "Didn’t mean to run, Will. Just had to but you wouldn’t let me go so you came with."

"That was the plan."

"Did the plan include falling unconscious from overexertion?" Buffy chides me gently.

"I...I didn't mean-" I start but Buffy gently takes my hand and presses it to her lips. "I needed to think anyway," she says. "I’m glad you didn’t let me go, didn’t leave me alone, but I did need time to think, to feel."

"Come up with anything?" I ask.

Buffy’s silent for a moment; her gaze turns inward. I give her her time.

"I stared at you for the whole day," Buffy begins. "I went over everything I feel for you, felt for you and tried to figure out these ...these..." her words fail.

"New ideas?" I venture.

"Instincts," Buffy says. "New instincts." She sighs, "That's the problem, they're not new. Just stronger."

"What kind?" I ask, pressing the issue.

"About you?" Buffy answers my question with one of her own. "Protect. It's always coming back to protect, defend, love, and treasure. They're so strong and real. Like...uh...moral absolutes."

"There is no way that I could do anything like what Giles said." Buffy continues. It's strange but her voice is resolute, confident, not like someone trying to convince themselves of something. She really believes this so...how can I not?

"And the others?" I ask.

"Instincts?" Buffy looks away from me, she knows what I'm talking about, doesn't want to admit it.

"Yes." I say quietly.

Buffy's silent for a time, and I leave her alone. I run my fingers through her hair, combing it out into nice, neat rows. Holding it in my hands and letting it fall gently across her back, a bright, cascade of softness running between my fingers. "Hunt," she finally says, there’s no regret in her tone. It’s just a fact. "Hunt and stalk. Seek out my prey and destroy it. Run it down, and take it."

"Does..." I swallow, she said it so matter of factly. "Is that bad?"

"No," Buffy replies looking back up at me. She slides up the bed to take my face in her hands, she does it gently and with great care. I don't mind, she can't hurt me; I know that, I trust her. "It just is but its not, like, eating me up inside. It's something I like, not something that I can't resist."

"Was it like this before?" I ask quietly. Buffy studies my face, maybe she's looking for doubt, or some fear in me but there isn't any there. I know myself right now and I doubt nothing about her, fear nothing from her.

"Yeah," she says slowly. "Just not quite so exciting. I still enjoyed it."

"Uhm," I say, now for the hard question. "What if...what if...Giles is...uh..."

"He's not," Buffy says, still holding my face in her hands. "I know, down to the bottom of who I am, I know he's wrong. The Council is wrong, they're all wrong. They want to stop me from feeling, Willow. Chain me, force something on me and it can't be that way. Don't ask me how I know but I know. Forcing me would be...bad."

"Can I-" I swallow. "Can we try? Just to know what might happen?"

Buffy pulls away from me, her features darkening. I grab her hand and pull her back against me; she lets me of course.  "No, no, no," I say quickly, whispering the words into her ear. "No doubt here, believe. I believe, really I do. No hesitation here from m, not from your Willow. Buffy's right, Council's wrong. I believe you, it was just a dusty, old, stupid book. Who reads books these days anyhow?"

Buffy's smile seems a little reluctant but in no way forced. "You do, if I recall correctly. Lots of books I think."

"Shhh!" I say frantically. Casting a conspiratorial look around her room I stage whisper, "Don't let that get out, people will think I'm kinda strange."

"Then I'll bash em'" Buffy giggles. "Just like an overprotective girlfriend should do!"

"Can I hold you to that?" I ask her.

"Better than that, you can hold me." Buffy murmurs and pushes herself against me and takes me in her arms.

It's nice. I said I didn't doubt her, or fear her and I don't but still...to be in her arms like this, its made more concrete, more absolute. Yeah, I've got nothing to worry about from Buffy. None of us do, if they'll just listen. Then Buffy whispers in my ear, "I think I have some gloves under the bed."

I pull away quickly, "No Buffy, you don't have-" she shushes me with a finger on my lips.

"I don't have too, I want too," she says.

Getting off the bed she kneels down and reaches under the bed, after rummaging around for a few seconds she's resting her elbows on the mattress holding one, tiny, white leather glove. She stares at it wordlessly. Her features are unreadable but the tension in the room just jumped, my stomach starts to scrunch again.

Then with a sigh of "Hell with it." Buffy slips her left hand into the glove. I have this urge to duck but I don't. Moot point, nothing happens.

Buffy's stares at her glove encased hand, flexing it into a fist and releasing it a few times. "It's a bit tight," she says finally. "That’s it."

"That means everything is okay!" I squeal and reach to take her hands in mine.

The second my hand touches her gloved one Buffy's body is wracked by a violent spasm and she lurches to her feet, her other hand clawing and scrabbling at the glove. "Get off! Get off! Gettoffofmegoddamnyou!!" she hisses between clenched teeth. Her voice rising in pitch and volume as she scratches at the gloves with her free hand. "Getoffofme! GETOFFOFME!!"

Her fingers, hooked like claws, scratch frantically at the glove but it stubbornly resists her efforts. Bringing her wrist to her mouth she bites down on the leather and starts working at it with her teeth; she growls and whimpers, whipping her head back and forth. Finally, after a savage jerk Buffy tears the glove off and sends it fluttering across the room.

It falls to the ground, landing on the rug, a dead and broken thing.

Buffy sinks to her knees, sniffing and whining.

"Oh God," Buffy sobs, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "Oh God, that was terrible!" She starts sliding her hands on the sleeves of her jacket, like she's trying to wipe something off. "I couldn't...I couldn't feel you." Buffy’s voice is horse, rough getting deeper. "...couldn't touch! I couldn’t touch!!"

I leap off the bed and move toward her but she doesn't notice me. "Bad, this is all bad, " she says throatily. "Have to touch, have to know, have to be free!" And when she says free she begins shucking out of her clothes. Her jacket falls to the floor and her shirt quickly follows it. I want to hug her, hold her close and bring her comfort but ...my own instincts tell me that's not the right thing to do now. Buffy practically rips her pants apart in her effort to get out of them, she kicks them free so violently they smash into the far wall.

"Buffy?" I ask, maybe I sound freaked out, I certainly am feeling freaked out.

She stops and stares at me, half-naked. She's only wearing her panties and has one shoulder of her bra off, her left breast hanging free. "It's not you, Willow," she finally says after staring at me for what feels like far too long.

"I...I just have to..." she looks eagerly out the open window where it's rapidly growing darker.

"Be free?" I ask.

"Uh-huh," she nods, in a squeaky, pleading tone. She's asking for permission.

I step toward her and cup her head in my hands. Tilting her face I lean forward and kiss her gently on the lips. The contact only last for an instant but it's enough. "I'll be here." I whisper to her.

Buffy doesn't say anything, just this mewling in her throat that sounds like gratitude then there's a whistling sound and I'm alone in her room, the shredded remains of her underwear gently drifting to the floor.

"Girls?" Mrs. Summers’ voice calls up the stairs. "I'm home."

"Eeep!" I rush around the room and gather up Buffy's clothes and the remains of her clothes. I stuff these under the quilt just before Mrs. Summers opens the door. "Oh, hello Willow, where's Buffy?"

"Um...Hi Mrs. Summers," I wave to her than restrain my waving hand with my other one. "Buffy? Oh...she...uh had to go. Patrol. Y'know how it is."

Mrs. Summers is quiet for a second, looking slightly pensive. "I thought I knew how it was, Willow," she says. "I'm not so sure anymore."

"It's good, Mrs. Summers." I reply, nodding eagerly. "Really."

"Well, I got movies. Want to watch some while we wait for Buffy to get home?" she holds the door open in an obvious invitation. "We can make caramel corn."

"Great," I say, trying to be enthusiastic. "Sounds like fun."

"Willow?" Mrs. Joyce becomes tinged with concern. "Are you sure you're alright? Your look like-"

"Just got something in my eye Mrs. Summers," I say quickly, blinking rapidly. "Just something in my eye."

HERE ENDETH THE LESSONS

Authors Notes: Thus ends Dianna Wears Red- Primus,  I'd apologize for how long it's taken me but I'm not at all sorry. Sorta weighing the joys of newly acquired fatherhood versus fanfiction.

'But Mad-Hamlet,' you're thinking. 'How can poopy diapers be joyful?'

'Easy,' I reply. 'I let my WIFE do the changing! Viola, instant joy.'(I am, of course, just kidding.)

I will begin work on the second part, 'Dianna Wears Red-Secundus' as soon as I'm good and ready. Which shouldn't take too long, I think. (He says before mysteriously vanishing for eighteen years.)

However between Primus and Secundus will be a 'Break Piece', the first of ANOTHER series that will occur between the parts of DWR. The first one 'DWR: Nocturnal Interludes-Black Falling' shouldn't take TOO long.

Much thanks must go out to my Editors. (I’d say beta-readers but these guys deserve better titles.) However I cannot use names as they wish to remain anonymous.

This work is dedicated to my daughter. I’ll keep the Wild alive for you little one.

I hope you're enjoying the story. This is 'THE ONE' I have put more work into than any other. I hope it shows.

One last thing: Yes Kirayoshi! I _was_ poking fun at that story of yours!

Greetings go out to The Triumvirate.

I remain, as always,

Mad-Hamlet