Chemistry of Love

["Aeryn Sun" <WilloSpice@xxxxxxx>]

OK, I'm sorry if this comes through twice but my computer blew up the 
first time I tried to send this.

Oh, look, I'm delurking.




Title: Chemistry of Love
Author: Wyvren7 
Email: WillowRose_98@xxxxxxxxx
Feedback: Sure, be nice though. Flames are for bbq-ing, not 
criticism. If you can't say something nice, choke and die. :)<j/k>
Archiving: You want this piece of crap? Well, ask first, I'll say 
yes, I just want to know where it goes. I might like to visit and 
bring candy. Chocolate.
Rating: PG, I guess. Nothing bad, just mild angst.
Pairing: B/W, who else is there? <bg>
Status: Complete and un-beta'd
Spoilers: Everything up to and including The Gift. I have no idea 
how they're going to resolve that episode, but I look forward to it.  
If any of this story contains spoilers for Season 6, which I doubt it 
does, I apologize.
Summary: Buffy's POV about why we love the people we do and how she 
arrived where she is now.
Author's notes: Two really important facts for you to know: while I 
have written fanfic for other shows, I've never written for BtVs 
before and I have never written anything even remotely slash so 
please, bear with me. I have recently read so much great BtVs 
fiction both slash and gen that I felt the need to give it a try. I 
hope you can forgive my paltry attempt to stand in such wonderful 
company. (Am I pouring it on too thick? <eg>)
Warning/Disclaimer: If the idea of a relationship between two women 
that goes deeper than friendship is offensive or bothers you, man, 
are you lost! The Prude Power mailing list is over there:::points to 
the far right:::: Leave now or forever be sucked into the Alt 
universe. I wasn't fast enough and look at me now (not that I'm 
complaining ;)) Characters do not belong to me, they belong to Joss 
and Mutant Enemy. Goddess bless them.
Author's Note #2: I wrote this intending it to be one thing and it 
somehow took on a life of its own. Not that that's a bad thing, 
tho. It might be a little too mushy, I can't tell. And if either 
one of these two say or do something slightly out of character, 
sorry, I just figure dying might change Buffy a little. Oh, well.



What is it exactly that makes us fall in love with a certain person?  
I mean, it has to be a lot of things, right? It's not just how a 
person looks because if it were, then there'd be a lot of lonely 
people out there. Let's face it, and I'm not saying this to be mean, 
but there are some ugly people out there. And it would be very unfair 
to people who didn't meet the demands of society to measure up to 
some stupid idea of what `attractive' is if love was based on 
physical appearance alone. Then those people would be doomed to a 
life of never ending singles mixers and microwave dinners for one.  

Stuffy men in equally stuffy white lab coats who refer to themselves 
as scientists would like you to believe that love is a chemical 
reaction between the pheromones of two individuals. Maybe that has 
something to do with it, I don't know, I was never good at science, 
especially chemistry. But that can't be the only thing either. Hey, 
it works for animals, I suppose. I guess that's why dogs' smell each 
other's butts so much, it's a way of introducing themselves and 
saying `Hi'. I can't see it working in the human world though.  
Walking into a fancy dinner party and sniffing the host's ass would 
be frowned upon. Not to mention a scary visual place to visit. If 
all we relied on were how our brains registered the smell of another 
person, a smell that most of the time we don't notice, than why would 
we bother to date someone or get to know them? We should just be 
able to walk into a room and see that person, smell their pheromones 
and BAM, instant husband/wife. But it doesn't work that way.

Most of the time, and I say `most of the time' because there is that 
one in a million, `our-eyes-met-across-the-room-and-it-was-love-at-
first-sight' type of thing that happens from time to time, ask Tommy 
and Pamela Lee. But most of the time we meet someone and yes, 
something must intrigue us enough so that we want to get to know 
someone better. Based one that something, and this is probably where 
someone's looks and pheromones factor in, we either date or become 
friends with this person and get to know them. But what is it from 
there that takes us from friendship to love?

I've eliminated physical appearance and chemical theories, so what 
does that leave me? Let's start at the most basic: gender? I don't 
know about you but I'm really starting to think gender doesn't 
matter. I mean if it did, we wouldn't have cool shows like `Queer as 
Folk' or celebrity couples like Ellen and Anne or Melissa and Julie.  
Hmmm&bad choices, I suppose, both relationships are over. Anyway, my 
point is that maybe love is oblivious to gender. Maybe whatever it 
is that makes you fall in love with someone (and I'm talking about 
the all-encompassing, mind-blowing, I-would-do-anything-for-you, die-
for-you/without-you love that so few of us experience) isn't 
concerned with gender or society's moral issues. Maybe it just cares 
about your soul. According to some things I've read (which isn't 
much but, studying isn't my thing either) we're supposedly going 
through life searching for the other half of our souls, our 
soulmates. And we're reborn over and over again until we find that 
person and get things right. Stands to reason that every once in a 
while, you'd end up as the same gender, law of averages being what it 
is and all. It'd be kind of stupid to lose your chance of getting 
your journey right simply because of something as trivial as gender.  
I mean, we're talking about your soul here, and there are way too may 
people out there that don't have even half a one to begin with.  
Trust me, I know this much for sure.

Look at me, being all thoughtfull and deep. Who'd of thought I had 
it in me? I guess that after everything that has happened to me 
recently I have questions that beg to be answered. But the one I 
really want to know is why we fall in love with the people we do?  
Granted I haven't made the best choices so far. Most of the men I 
choose seem to dark sides that make Darth Vader look like a 
Teletubbie. Oh, scary visual place again. Got to stop that.  
Truthfully, I think I was looking for something I didn't need. It 
started with the dark brooding type, the one that was strictly 
forbidden. That's what made him so appealing. And I really did love 
him, at the time. But I saw his dark side and it was too much. Too 
dangerous, even for me. While I understand that he had no control 
over what happened to him, I still never can look at him the same 
way. Not without seeing what he had become and remembering the hurt 
he caused me and those closest to me. After that, I had a couple 
other boyfriends but nothing ever really energizing or interesting 
and then I had a few flings. Then I chose the direct opposite from 
bachelor number one. I picked the bland, white bread, country-boy.  
I think that time I was looking for something `safe' in my ever 
changing, increasingly dangerous, and hectic life. Then it turns out 
he's just as bad as bachelor number one and what makes it worse is he 
did have some control over his choices and he chose to lie and 
deceive me. True, I did my share of lying and deceiving too, but, 
but I did it out of concern for him and my friends and family. He 
did it for `the greater good'. I honestly think the `greater good' 
thing is overrated. Yeah, sure, I work for the same thing but I'd 
like to think my motives were more pure. I don't know anymore.

I'm drifting away from my original question, though. It's not looks, 
it's not chemistry, and it's not gender. I think it has something to 
do with personality, at least a little. Who a person is as an 
individual is infinitely more important than what they look like.  
Trust me, I used to live in L.A. You can look like a supermodel but 
if there's nothing beneath the surface it's pointless, not to mention 
impossible to get to know someone. They're like a walking piece of 
driftwood but usually with better hair and an expensive wardrobe.  
Just look at Gwynth Paltrow. Yeah, I think who a person is is 
definitely an important factor. Just look at who I'm with now.  
Someone who was in front of me the whole time; the one person who 
stood by my side through everything, no matter how crazy or 
dangerous; someone who didn't let something as trivial as death stop 
them from caring for me; someone I never realized I cared for so 
deeply until it was nearly too late. I'm torn from my silent musings 
when I hear the keys in the front door. I know Dawn is still at 
school so I know it's not her. Only one other person has keys to the 
house. A person who has had keys since high school, in case of an 
emergency, but now they use them because this is their home too. The 
person I trust most with my soul, my everything.

"Hey," she says as she flops down in the armchair in front of me.  
And yes, I did say `she'. That's why I think gender is a non-issue.

"Hey," I answer back, suddenly unable to form any other coherant 
words around the rising lump of emotion in my throat. Looking at her 
now, all I feel is that all-encompassing, mind-blowing, I-would-do-
anything-for-you, die-for-you/without-you love I mentioned earlier. 
Only with her, it's more. I know she's my other half. I can't 
explain it but I feel it. I hate to sound all Jerry Maguire on you 
and stuff but she really does complete me. She's strong where I'm 
weak; she's calm when I want to lash out and kill something; she 
makes me feel like I'm the only other person on the planet and like 
I'm her universe. It takes my breath away everytime she looks at me 
with those eyes that say so much without a sound. She smiles at my 
inability to verbalize and I can't help but smile back.  

"How was your day?" she asks quietly, knowing that I'm still 
adjusting to everything. Being back hasn't been easy. But she is so 
patient and loving with me that I know I will get through this with 
her help, like she's helped me through so much else. She holds me 
when the nightmares haunt me and cause me to wake screaming like a 
banshee at all hours. She holds me close and tells me that 
everything will be all right again and I belive her because she says 
she loves me. I can't help but wonder what I ever did to deserve her 
love.

"Same old, same old. Just sitting around being a homebody for a 
change. It's kind of nice." I tell her honestly, although it's not 
as nice as when she is here with me. She smiles at me again and I 
swear I can feel the love radiating from her like the sun on the 
shore. And I bask in the warmth that she gives me. God, I'm getting 
all mushy. Eww. "How about yours?" I ask, genuinely interested.  
She sighs and my heart breaks at the plaintive sound. I would give 
anything right down to my soul to keep her from ever being sad 
again. I hope she knows that, although after all the trouble she 
went through to get me back, she'd probably be upset if I did so.

"I helped Tara pack the last of her stuff up. I'm glad that we 
parted as friends, but I can't help but feel guilty about hurting 
her." Willow tells me quietly. That's my best friend for you, always 
worried about other people even when she herself is hurting. I won't 
lie to you; a part of me is glad Tara's leaving Sunnydale and moving 
east where she can live with relatives who don't frown on her Wicca 
activities. While I thank her for helping Will and I to finally find 
each other, I can't help but be jealous of her on some level.  
Jealous of the time she had with Willow when I was too blind and, if 
I'm honest with myself, scared, to face how I really felt. But I'm 
grateful that she opened my eyes. After she and Willow, along with 
everyone else rescued me from where ever it was I went to after I 
died to save Dawn, Tara was strangely quiet and distant from Willow.  
It was only later that I learned that Willow took my death extremely 
hard and realized that she loved me as more than a best friend. I 
guess she told Tara that she loved me and that their relationship was 
important to her but could never replace or compare to what she 
wanted with me. I heard this from Dawn, talk about awkward 
conversations to be having with your baby sister. Dawn told me Will 
was inconsolable for a while after I died and that they worried about 
her health. Tara got over her hurt and together with Willow, found a 
way to get me back. I guess in a way, I owe Tara my life. She 
wanted to make Willow happy again and if that meant rescuing me so 
that I could be with Willow then, that's what she'd do.  
I suppose I should explain how I came to the conclusion that I loved 
Willow. Well, I always loved Willow but I knew for a while that I 
was in love with Willow. But putting it into words was difficult. I 
never thought of myself as gay or even bi so I spent a long time 
confused over it. It was sometime after Oz left and she was so hurt 
that the feelings got too strong to remain unnamed. I hated him for 
doing that to her, hurting someone so innocent and gentle that she'd 
never intentionally hurt anyone. Hell, she feels bad to some extent 
when she kills a vamp or demon. But we were in the dorm one night 
and I thought she was asleep. I was watching her when I felt, rather 
than saw (it was dark, you know) her eyes open and look at me.

> > > > >
"Go to sleep, Buffy. I'll still be here when you wake up. I 
promise." She said tiredly. I realized then that she'd known I was 
awake and watching her for some time.

"Sorry, Will. I'm just worried about you." I heard her sigh. That 
sound again that I love and hate at the same time. I love it because 
it's unique to Will, but I hate it for the pain behind it.

"Don't bother. You know me. Dependable Willow. I'll be fine a few 
days and back to my perky Wicca research girl self." My heart 
lurched to my feet. Don't bother? How far had my Willow fallen?  
Then I replayed that sentence in my mind. My Willow? When did I get 
so possessive? Somewhere between Trig and Psych class, I imagine.

"Will, please don't say you're a bother, because you're not. You're 
my best friend and I care about you. I hate to see you in pain."  
Another sigh. I heard her shift position in her bed. She was on her 
back now, not facing me anymore.

"Buffy, I'll be fine. Oz left me but I'm not dead. I may wish 
Iwere&" Argh, I couldn't even fathom the thought.

"Stop it, Will. Please, don't even&" I couldn't even finish the 
sentence. The thought of not having Willow in my life cut off my air 
supply and it felt like someone was sitting on my chest. I heard her 
move again and realized she was now crouched by my bed.

"I'm sorry, Buffy. I didn't mean to upset you. I just&" I reached 
out a hand to stroke her cheek, in a purely friendly, comforting way, 
I assure you. Or at least told myself at the time. I didn't notice 
then how she seemed to lean into my hand.

"I know, Willow. I understand. I just don't want to think of my 
life without you." I felt a tear brush my hand and I realized she 
was crying. "Oh, Will, please don't cry." I nearly begged. She 
layed her head on my bed and I stroked her soft hair for a few 
minutes. When she finally looked at me again, she managed to smile 
at me. I smiled back, glad to see a hint of my Willow again.  
There's the `my Willow' thing again. By now that little voice in the 
back of my head was yelling at me about how I really felt, but like 
always, I ignored it at the time.

"Promise me one thing and I'll promise to feel better." She told me 
quietly. I nodded.

"Anything Will. The sun, the moon, the stars. Name it and it's 
yours. Anything you want. Except Mr. Gordo. I'll share with him 
you though." That had the desired effect and she laughed.

"OK. Buffy, promise me that you won't ever abandon me like Oz did."

"Oh, Willow, you know I can't promise not to die. I would but I'm 
the Slayer. My shelf life is like, expired. I'm rancid milk, Will.  
Any day now I'm going to start making the fridge smell funny and&" 
she put her hand over my mouth.

"No, Buffy. I understand that. And you don't smell funny. I mean, 
don't hurt me and then run away. Please." She was begging and my 
heart was breaking.

"I would never hurt you, Willow. Ever. And I will never run away 
from you again. I did that once, didn't go over well, remember?"

"Yeah. Thank you, Buffy." She stood up and headed to her own 
bed. "Good night, Buff. Get some sleep." I didn't understand why I 
said what I did next at the time. I do now though.

"Only if you sleep over here," I saw her jump and pause, questioning 
the strange request. "I'll sleep better knowing you're not over 
there crying to yourself. Besides, Willow, you held me when I cried 
for Angel, please let me do this for you." She nodded walked back 
over. I pulled down my covers and she crawled in next to me.

"Definitely warmer over here, anyway. Night, Buffy." She settled in 
next to me. I smiled into her hair.

"Good night, Willow," and I realized as I felt her fall asleep that 
she meant more to me than I ever believed.  

> > > > > >

And I lived with that from then on. I was afraid to tell her about 
my feelings because her friendship meant so much to me. Through all 
the craziness that is my life, Will had always been my rock, my 
stability. I knew that no matter what, she'd be there for me. I 
wasn't willing to destroy that simply because I couldn't control my 
emotions. Besides, I was sure she didn't feel the same way. She 
never gave any indication otherwise and I didn't want her to hate me 
or be disgusted by me. I was scared to lose her, scared to be that 
open and honest. Yeah, that's me, Buffy Anne Summers, Vampire Hunter 
and Chosen One who can face a nest of vamps or any other kind of 
horror the Hellmouth could throw at me with a smile and a witty 
remark. But when it comes to my feelings, I'm mentally deficient.  
Emotionally unavailable and utterly pathetic, yeah, that was me.
Then I watched her begin her relationship with Tara as I dated 
bachelor number two, Riley and was initially surprised that Will had 
fallen for a girl. Then I figured I lost my chance. I mentally 
kicked myself, repeatedly, but I dealt with that too. It pained me 
to know that Will was in love with someone who wasn't me while I 
couldn't get past my feelings for her. Riley was just a distraction 
from Willow. But some small part of me hoped maybe one day if it 
didn't work out with Tara, I would get the courage to tell Willow how 
I felt and everything would be all right. I held on to that slim 
hope. Then I died. Seems I can never do things halfway. All the way 
Buffy, yup that's me. Although probably not the best way to put it.  
Coming back from my mental space odyssey, I put my hand on her knee 
in comfort.

"I know, Will. She's a good friend and we both owe her a lot," I 
tell her. Willow looks at me with those luminous green eyes and 
rewards me with one of her brilliant smiles. I feel all the doubt; 
fear and general bad feelings that usually surround me lift away in 
the glow of her smile. She places her hand over mine.

"I thanked her again. For letting go. She says she's happy that we 
finally figured things out. Apparently, Tara knew you had feelings 
for me and suspected that I might feel the same way. She's just 
sorry that it took such a horrible thing to bring us together."

"Yeah, nothing like dying an excruciatingly painful death to make you 
see things in your life with a crystal clarity," I try to joke. I 
don't know why I feel the need to hide my pain and discomfort behind 
sarcasm and somewhat questionable wit. I just do it. And as I watch 
a wave of horror and pain flash across Willow's beautiful and 
expressive face, I instantly hate myself for it. I see her eyes brim 
with unshead tears and I'm immediately on my knees in front of her, 
trying to chase that pain away. Pain that I've caused, however 
inadvertently.

"Oh God, Will, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I shouldn't 
have said that. I'm so stupid," I tell her, wrapping my arms around 
her waist. "Please, baby, don't cry. Please." My own voice is 
cracking. I promised I wouldn't hurt her and I just did with my own 
careless words. I feel her wrap her arms around my shoulders and hug 
me.

"You're not stupid, Buffy," she tells me patiently as she places a 
gentle kiss on the top of my head. She pulls away a little and uses 
her hand to tilt my face to look up into hers. The tears are gone 
and she's smiling again. "OK, maybe you sometimes speak before you 
engage your brain, but you're not stupid." I smile back, taking the 
kidding in stride. I stare into those eyes of hers and I'm lost.  
Hopelessly, utterly lost. I could drown in those emerald pools and 
not care. As long as I'm with Willow, I feel safe. She is my home, 
my north, my center and my core. I realize as I'm thinking this that 
she's blushing.

"What's the matter, Will? You're turning an alarming shade of red, 
almost matching your hair."

"You're staring," she tells me sweetly and now it's my turn to blush.

"Oops," I start, "sorry." Looking at her now, I want to tell her 
every little thought in my head. How much I love her, how I can't 
imagine my life without her and I never want to. How everything I 
do, everything I've ever done is for her. I open and close my mouth 
a few times in what I imagine is a pretty good imitation of a fish 
before I can form any words.

"Will, I," oh good, two whole words. Let me try again. "I want to 
say so much&I need for you to know, to understand how&" again I 
faulter, the words that should come so easily failing me. I gesture 
with my hands, exasperated at my inability to communicate. I seem to 
be periodically struck with a selective form of aphasia that only 
occurs when my emotions are involved. She smiles that Willow smile, 
the one that tells me that she understands. She's seen me like this 
a lot lately. So much to say, so few functioning braincells. It's 
sad, really, big bad Buffy reduced to hand signals and grunts to 
communicate. Oh, flashback to Cave Slayer. I laugh a little at that 
thought and try again.

"I love you, Willow." I manage to say before, once again, I can't 
find the words.  

"I know you do, Buffy. I love you too." My heart soars to uncharted 
heights at those simple words coming from her. But saying those 
words to her aren't enough for me. Having lost my mother and left so 
much unsaid between us, it's extraordinarily important to me for 
Willow to understand the depth of my feelings. It goes beyond love.  
I need her to know that. I look back up at her and will her to 
understand.

"No, Will, you don't understand. I love you but it's so much more.  
I need to tell you, you have to know&" she pulls me closer, into her 
lap and I happily oblige her. Willow leans closer to me so that our 
foreheads are touching.

"No, Buffy, you don't need to say anything." I open my mouth to 
protest but she places her fingers over my mouth. "Shush, Buffy.  
You don't need to say anything because I know." She tells me, her 
breath warm against my face. She looks deep within my eyes and 
repeats herself. "I know, Buffy." And looking into her eyes, so 
filled with love, love for me, I believe she does. My heart feels 
like it will burst out of my chest at the realization that she feels 
the same way that I do.  

"God, Wills," I breathe. The feeling is overwhelming. She chuckles 
a little and then kisses me. The kiss is gentle but filled with so 
much emotion, so much passion and acceptence that I start to cry.  
Willow reached up and brushed my tears away with her thumbs, her own 
tears staining her cheeks.

"You need to understand, Buffy. You are my heart, my soul and 
without you I am only half of what I could be." She whispers to 
me. "I love you more than I ever believed it possible to love 
anyone. You don't need to explain anything to me because I all ready 
know." I sink against her in relief. I know I'm home, I'm safe and 
loved and that's all I need. Not even the baddies that we deal with 
everyday can destroy or take away what I have with Willow. Not even 
death will, I know that now, and while I'm glad to be alive, I thank 
God as I lie here in her arms that I died. I never would have 
realized the truth otherwise.
Did I find the answer to my original question? Yes and no. I know 
what it's not; I know what it could be. What I do know for certain 
is that I love Willow because she's Willow. It's not her looks 
(although she is simply breathtaking, no doubts there), I have no 
clue about pheromones, and the fact that she's female shoots the 
whole gender thing to Hell. I love Willow for Willow, her 
everything, her soul. I think on some level, I have loved her this 
way since the day I met her and asked for her help with my 
schoolwork. I chose her friendship over Cordielia and her in-crowd 
for more than one reason. I think it was because my soul saw its 
other half in her. But I bet you're probably wondering how or when 
it was that we told each other how we felt. I'd love to tell you, 
really, but that, as they say, my friends, is a story for another 
day. Right now, I'm just going to stay here with my Willow and the 
world be damned. For this moment in time at least. I'll go back 
to `work' later. It's not like the undead are going anywhere. And 
neither am I. Not for a long time, I promise you that Willow. With 
everything I am.  




> > From Wyvrn7: I apologize if you have a sudden need for insulin. Like 
I said, I started this intending it to go differently and well, they 
started talking and this whole thing took on a life of it's own. Let 
me know what you think, though. If anyone's interested, I'm thinking 
of maybe writing the same story from Willow's POV and/or a separate 
story about them admitting how they feel about each other after Buffy 
returns