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An enormous apology for having missed the entire month of September,
fic-wise. I didn't even have a real good reason; things just tended to
fall another way. Anyway, I'm back, and I have something else for
later. If anyone has joined the list since my last post (or just forgot
this fic), you can find the previous chapters by going to the list
boards and doing a keyword search using the title, or by clicking on the
links below to archives for this piece.
Title:
Straight Through the Heart [9/?]
Author: Dan Spector Pairings: B/W, F/C. Special note to F/C 'shippers: I've felt badly that I spent so long on B/W, given that the best archiving has been done by Cordy-centric archives (see Archiving section and Dedication). But the good news is that after this, er, climactic chapter the action will shift to the brunettes for a while. B/W will be back, though, as I can no more keep away from them than they can from each other. Rating: R (this chapter: f/f sexexplicit above the waist, but oblique below. Not NC-17 territory, but you can see it from here) Summary: After "Lovers Walk" one slayer comforts a heartbroken Willow, while the other heals an injured Cordeliamany of you will remember this. This Chapter: Buffy and Willow make love (what a nice summary line to write). Spoilers: Everything through "Lovers Walk". Key eps rather few this time, namely "Welcome to the Hellmouth", "Lie To Me", "Surprise", "Innocence", and "Anne" Disclaimer: I'm reasonably sure that taking the credit that belongs to Joss Whedon (and others, including corporations) and doing it on the day of "Bargaining" would be a very good way to be struck down by lightning. Therefore I intone: Lo, these are not mine. Archiving: This story is archived at Dark Moon Subtext (thanks, ski woofe!) and Disco Inferno (thanks, Faithtastic!) and CordySlash-fan fiction (thanks, Kate Bolin!). Misty is also archiving, but I'm having difficulty reaching the site, so no link right now. Anyone else who wants it, please write and I'll say yes. Still plenty of room on the archiving train. Feedback: I've been away a while. Let's talk (but no flames), so send feedback to danspector@xxxxxxxxx or the lists. Dedication: This is for Kate Bolin. I've been acknowledging the people who wrote and asked me for permission to archive this in the Archiving line, but I had frankly forgotten that lists are supposed to put it into their own archives. Yet that's what Kate's been doing, promptly and quietly. Maintaining a proper list archive is quite an achievement, given that this fic posts on one list with no archive, one with a slow one and two with a defunct one. Applause to Kate, who in her spare time manages to be a great ficcer, herself. Disco Inferno (see above) is also a list archive, but Faithtastic wrote me for permission before I started posting it on cordyhasfaith [the list she archives], so that's why she's been getting the props I've been inadvertently denying Kate. From now on, I'll give both of the ladies equal and proper credit, as well as those who run their own, separate, sites.
Chapter 9: A Whole Lot of "Er"
Fifteen minutes after Willow and Buffy had started kissing, they were still kissing, because, well, why not? Buffy had thought about moving things further along, since introducing their tongues into the equation had basically turned her into a molten pile of lust, but she was determined not to press Willow, to let the hacker decide what was going to happen. Because, now more than ever, she knew that making Willow happy was and would always be the single most important thing in her life. Besides, there was nothing wrong with the kissing. Willow was a fantastic kisser, touching her lips to Buffy's with a feather softness, yet drawing the Slayer to her with a hot, hungry, passion. It was like that "Star Trek" episode she had seen with Xander, the one with the sweet-smelling vampire cloud that sucked people's blood out while being as insubstantial as mist. Buffy twitched slightly, realizing she was going to have to come up with happier-sounding analogies. She closed her eyes, because she wasn't using them anyway. She couldn't tell you the color of the walls in Willow's room or how bright the lights were or how many pillows Willow had on her bed; all she knew was that she loved Willow and Willow loved her and they were kissing and the universe finally made sense. A brief flurry of non-sense flitted through Buffy's mind as Willow drew her lips away, but then the young blonde opened her eyes once more and saw the lovely loving green orbs of her life's companion, and was content again. "Buffy," the other girl said, with the gentlest hint of reproach, "are we going to just kiss all night?" "But I like the kissing," Buffy replied, too blissed to go into full pout mode. "Kissing good." "Seriously good," the redhead concurred, nodding. "But I know there's more we can do, and I, I want to do more. I mean, if you want to, too" "I want, Will," the slayer answered, cutting the no-longer-quite-so-shy girl off. "I so want. I want to do everything and then start over and do it all again. And again. But only when you're ready." "Oh, I'm ready," her girlfriend chuckled. "I'm really, really ready; I don't think I could be readierif there's an 'er' than goes beyond 'ready', I'm definitely 'er'. In fact, " she added, still one to blush slightly and duck her head, "I'm pretty much all 'er', right now." Buffy thought it was totally unfair that Willow could be so sexy and wonderful and still be so adorably cute, all at once. But given that she was head over, through, and wrapped around her heels in love with the other girl, she didn't really mind. "Now it is, then," the "experienced" girl said, reaching forward to open the top of Willow's blouse. She hesitated, her long fingers dancing nervously around the closure. "Um, Will," she said, not sure if she should even mention it, "you understand I basically have no clue here, right?" "Well, more than me," the young witch said, smiling kindly. "It can't be too hard; you just do stuff and keep doing the things I like. And," she added, the smile now taking on a delightfully wicked aspect, "since so far that's been everything, I think you'll manage." "Some major manage coming up," Buffy vowed, her head confident and her heart racing. Deftly her fingers undid the button they had been hovering near, and her hazel eyes saw the lids on Willow's emerald ones flutter as the hacker expelled a small, panting breath. Buffy fought the urge to shred her love's clothes and dive right in. Slowly, she told herself, slowly. This is the first time I'm undressing Willow, she noted. Savor it. ****************************************************************** A certain amount of time later, which involved more devouring and less savoring than Buffy had originally planned, Willow felt the urge to scream in ecstasy, tried to cram her right hand into her mouth to muffle it (her left was busy clamping Buffy's head firmly in place between her legs), and still managed a fairly good scream around the hand. Then her world dissolved into a swirling ball of colors and she ceased all higher brain function for a time. "Wow," she eventually said, surprised mostly at the intensity of the experience but also at the fact that she could speak again. "That was good," she added, inadequately. "Just good?" teased a hungry voice from somewhere down below. "Um, good in the 'everything good in the universe all rolled up into one Buffy-shaped package' sense of the word," Willow clarified, struggling up to her elbows and looking at the naked blonde dream at the foot of her bed. "Oh, that 'good'," the slayer noted for future reference, her lithe body a tingling mass of need. She slithered upwards, running a gentle hand around Willow's tiny waist. "Uh-huh," the sweat-drenched redhead averred, continuing. "I knew it was a special thing, but I didn't know the 'thing' was that special," she purred, turning the curve of her hip into the palm of Buffy's gliding hand. She tried not to give in to the still-smoldering flame she felt corruscating through her body, because she knew it was Buffy's turn now. "Hmm," a very proud Buffy murmured, thinking essentially the same thoughts, as she slowly drew the rock-hard points of her nipples across Willow's heaving chest. She gently slipped her hand to the small of her beloved's back and effortlessly flipped the two of them over so that the hacker was on top. "I guess you'll just have to show me." "I can do that," Willow chirped, planting tiny kisses all over her Chosen One's face. "Now I know what all those poets are writing about," she sighed, pulling back to gaze down on the expectant slayer's visage. "What I can't get is why they're writing, not doing." "Silly poets," Buffy agreed, as Willow moved her face back within kissing range. She dangled her tongue above Buffy's lips, gently swabbing back and forth. Almost instantly, Buffy latched onto the offered tongue like a fish to a hook, and Round 2 was underway. ****************************************************************** Buffy woke up Wednesday morning from the greatest dream. She was being held in a warm, tender placeand all of it was Willow. Willow's warmth, her touch, her taste, her scent, her lovethey surrounded her, encompassed her, caressed her, held her, became her. And then she opened her eyesand, wonderfully, it was all true. She lay in Willow's bed, the gentle early morning sunlight glinting through the french windows and bathing her in its warmth. The sheets, which she now noticed were a rose-accented floral pattern, still held their delightful Willow-scent, an aroma with which the slayer had become rather intimately acquainted. The top sheet that Buffy had draped over herself and Willow before going to sleep lay mostly in place, a testament to their placid and joyous rest, but the slight tendril of a blanket straggling off of the foot of the bed offered evidence of the furious nature of the two girls' earlier passion. Buffy delicately flicked her tongue over her lips, tasting the residue of her girlfriend's intimate fluids that lingered there. She glanced around the room, taking in the bag with the uneaten veggie subs on the desk, next to the computer, the floor lamp they had forgotten to turn off, the desk chair Buffy had propped against the door, just in case the Rosenbergs had made the atypical decision to look in on their daughter. Having completed her visual survey of the room, Buffy turned to the best, which she had saved for last, and gazed adoringly at the redheaded piece of heaven that still slumbered, curled into the crook of the slayer's right arm. Willow blew gentle, even, breaths across Buffy's upper chest; her fiery locks hung like fine silk draped over the blonde's shoulder; her right arm reached around her best friend's stomach and her delicate hand flattened itself against Buffy's rib cage, seeking maximum contact even while asleep. Buffy listened, enamored, to her love's soft, dreamy murmurings and then focused her extraordinary senses harder, hearing the gentle pit-pat of the heart that held her own. Outside, two wrens warbled to each other in the cool December morning, a simple call-and-response pattern, three or four notes at a time. Buffy imagined the dialogue of the songbirds: "I love you", "No, I love you", back and forth, over and over. It was the sort of thing most people might call sentimental mush, and, once, Buffy would have agreed with them. But now she had been converted, not only to lesbianism (although she was definitely going to be gay as long as Willow was female), but to love, and the simple sentiments of the birds, their constant repetition, were to Buffy necessary parts of a bond that grew stronger each time it was affirmed. A bond that drew her in, deeper and deeper, into a greater whole, a sense of unity, of belonging, that banished all the painful, lonely nights from her life. If Lily (or was it Anne, now?) had somehow walked through that barricaded door right then, Buffy would have told her with all the certainty in the world that she hadn't seen her since Ford died, that she had never gone to LA, that the stricken and isolated waitress with the crappy apartment had never existed, that summer had never been, that May had melted right into September and she and Willow had never been apart. Buffy held her breath, and let it out when Willow breathed. She matched her other half's rhythm, in and out and in and out, and wondered if she could get their hearts in synch, as well. Although, she reflected, in truth, they already were. *************************************************************** Buffy let her mind drift back across the past two years, remembering all that had happened, the exciting times with Angel, and the awful ones, the arguments with her friends, the moments of doubt and panic, the days of quiet joy and calm. All of it, the good and the bad, had led to this and she couldn't regret a single minute of it. She remembered seeing Willow for the first time, a timid girl explaining to Cordelia where she got her dress. She remembered their first conversation, that day at lunch, how Willow had glowed talking about the collections of the new, British, librarian, and how she had shut herself down with a sudden "and am I the single dullest person in the world?" Buffy would have gone for "most adorable"; her thoughts probably hadn't been romantic then, and certainly not consciously, but the not-yet-witch had already put the slayer under her spell. She remembered their second talk, that evening at the Bronze, Willow's blossoming at her presence, the redhead's still-vibrant hurt as she recounted how Xander had stolen her Barbie" eleven years before, her yearning as she spoke of how helpless she was at talking to boys she liked. And she remembered how she had spotted Giles and told Willow she'd be right back, and how the other girl had easily replied, "oh, that's okay, you don't have to come back." An answer that had been shy and self-effacing and full of loneliness and low self-esteem, but had also been redolent of a shining generosity of spirit; a spirit so pure and wonderful that it never even thought of fettering Buffy, of burdening her with the hacker's own needs and desires for companionship; a heart that gave endlessly and never thought to ask in return; a soul that Buffy could only hope her own was worthy of mating with. And a brain, that for all its acumen, was completely wrong: for Buffy had had to come back, had always had to come back. And maybe now, Buffy thought, I'll finally learn not to go. Willow's eyes skittered under her shuttered lids, as she moved deeper into R.E.M.-sleep. Her unintelligible mutterings became coherent snippets of words and sentences, mostly basic stuff like "oh" and "yes" and "please". And then came a word, loud enough to be heard even without slayer-hearing, a word full of ardor and ecstasy and total love. "Buffy&" the sleeping Willow called out, and Buffy felt her heart skip a beat, as if maintaining a pulse would distract from the rapture of basking in Willow's love. But soon Buffy resumed breathing and other normal functions and a smile spread across her face. She turned onto her side, her back curving since her shoulder was still pinned by Willow, and moved in on the unconscious Wiccan, gently planting a fluttering kiss on those ruby red lips. Willow stirred. "&sleepy&" she moaned, her eyes still shut. "Pleasant dreams, then," Buffy allowed, drawing close again and kissing the somnolent girl slightly harder. Willow rocked her head slightly and Buffy freed her shoulder, using her upper arm as the redhead's pillow and sliding down so they were eye to eye. The hacker struggled to consciousness, weakly cooing, "&morrre&" "Much more," Buffy said, trilling the fingers of her left hand up Willow's oh-so-smooth thigh as she kissed her girl a third time, her lips slightly parted, and sliding her tongue swiftly from left to right, separating her partner's lips as if opening a Ziploc" bag. Step one accomplished, the tongue gently tapped at the pixie's teeth, until passion made Willow move her jaw slightly and Buffy's tongue raced inside to rejoin its opposite number. Willow panted, helpless, before this unsparing attack, but then settled backwards, not able to endure this much so quickly. "Actually," the redhead said, her eyes finally open, "I was trying to say 'morning', there. But that was nice." "My bad," the slayer noted, completely unregretful, and happily ignoring the quiet reply of "nuh-uhh". "Good morning, Beautiful," Buffy continued. "Buffy," Willow said mockingly, "it's not nice to talk to yourself." "Oh, please," Buffy groaned, "let's not do a 'you're beautiful'-'no, you are' bitthat's just too vain." "Hey!" Willow objected, rising up slightly. Buffy took the opportunity to extract her arm and run her fingers through Willow's hair. "The most wonderful girl ever loves me; I kinda think this is my moment for 'vain'." "Yep, I love you," Buffy declared, running her hands over both of Willow's shoulders as the delicate girl lay back down and Buffy rose over her. "Swelled head and all," she intoned, now tracing the line of Willow's clavicle. "Not to mention other swelled parts," she continued, noting a pair of rapidly erecting nipples below that. "I love you, too, Buffy," Willow answered. "And you've got some pretty swell parts, yourself," she smirked, as the blonde raked tender claws down to her lover's breasts. "Nut," Buffy opined, as she blew the recumbent girl a kiss. "Tease," Willow carped, as she opened her mouth as if to catch it. "Ha!" Buffy demurred, now cupping the flushed hillocks beneath those nipples. "Hey, Will," she added, moving to straddle her sweetheart (but teasingly avoiding any contact of their lower halves), "do you remember when you told me what 'Rosenberg' means in German?" "Huh?" the budding genius asked, less than cleverly (although, to be fair, she certainly wasn't expecting that question). "Um, yeah, I guess. 'Rosen' means 'roses' and 'berg' means 'mountain'. 'Rosy mount', if you're being poetic. Why?" "Well, look what I have here," the quipster of the slaying community directed, now tracing the circumferences of Willow's breasts. "A pair of sexy bergs, getting Rosener by the second. And topped with little Rosenbergs of their very own," she added, bending down to nip at the engorged nipples. "Meine kleine Rosenbergen." "OOOh!" Willow moaned, "I think you blew the plural." "Well, what did you expect?" Buffy objected, interrupting a tongue-swirl to look up. "I took Spanish." "¡Ay! ¡Dios Mia!" the linguist insisted, returning Buffy's head to its task. Buffy's tongue slipped off the nipple and wandered across the pebbly aureola that surrounded it, then ventured down to the tender skin on the undercurve of Willow's breasts. The other seventeen-year-old lay back and felt the sensual dance of Buffy's slender fingers as they meandered slowly across the hacker's taut stomach, looping and swirling in figures reminiscent of her ice-skating days, but drifting inexorably downward. Willow remembered the feel of Buffy's hands from all the other times before. Times when the slayer would return from battle, hands dirtied and bruised and bloodied from combating the denizens of hell. Times when Willow would take her friend's hand in her own and lovingly wash away the detritus of slaying, pick out the splinters, cleanse the wounds and bind them, so that the hands would once again resemble a ballerina's and not a butcher's. At first, Buffy had resisted, pointing out that her slayer's metabolism made healing a foregone conclusion, anyway. But Willow had carried the day, noting that a regimen of hydrogen peroxide and bacitracin certainly couldn't hurt, and that Buffy needed her body's strength for things other than fighting infections. Eventually, it had become a ritual, sometimes leavened by conversation, other times done in spent silence, where Willow tended to and comforted the slayer, providing her with a touchstone to a reality she felt alienated from, empathetically taking Buffy's pain and returning love. It had been on one of those nights when Willow, cleansing the last bit of grime from Buffy's ring finger and annointing a small cut on the inside of the second joint with just a drop of lotion, had suddenly realized how much she craved even this slight contact, that the friendship she had felt for the young blonde had grown into something greater, that she wanted to be no place else than by Buffy's side. Startled, she lost her grasp on the extended arm, letting it drop, and Buffy, who had been lost in thought, turned and looked at her, confusion in her eyes. She saw the red-haired girl draw slightly back and felt an inexplicable wave of sadness come over her. Willow looked up and saw Buffy looking like she had just lost her last friend in the world and immediately bent forward and returned to her task, taking Buffy's hand in hers again, content in her new reality. And now, reality had become her dream. Willow drifted back to the present, realizing that there could be only one place Buffy's hands were heading, but she asked anyway. "Buffy? What are you doing?" "Nothing much," her destiny lied, settling gently athwart Willow's thighs and lustily wetting the index finger of her left hand. "I just remembered you've got one little Rosenberg I haven't checked on yet, and I thought I'd just drop in." She gently laid the moistened finger on the redhead's soft furrow and the hands that Willow knew so well continued making all of her dreams come true. ****************************************************************** Willow gave a climactic shudder and collapsed back against her pillows. Since she'd been muffling her cries with both hands this time, she landed somewhat awkwardly, but she hardly minded. Buffy crawled over her prone torso and lay beside her, ostentatiously examining an index finger that was still noticeably lubricated, albeit with a different substance than the saliva she had applied not long ago. She twirled the finger over her mouth, examining its new coating like a jeweler checking a stone for flaws. Once satisfied as to the deposit's perfection, she plunged the finger into her mouth as she would thrust a stake into a vamp, hard and deep and straight. and pulled it back out, licking it clean. "Show-off," Willow claimed, still rather spent. "Tasty," Buffy retorted, shrugging her shoulders. She pulled her leg back from the far side of the Wiccan's body and lay on Willow's left shoulder, reversing their position upon waking. "What about you, Will? Was it 'good'?" she asked, referring to the other girl's comment from the previous night. "Super-'good', but," a frown creased Willow's forehead, "Buffy, are you sure this is right?" Oh, God, no, Buffy thought, all her worries flooding back: this is just what I was afraid ofwell, besides the chance Will would just totally freak when I told her how I feltbut I knew this was going to happen; she went along with me because she loves me, but not really this way, and now I've hurt her. I should never have Willow felt the slayer laying on and next to her go suddenly tense, and tried to clarify. "I mean, I really do love you, romantically, and I'm glad I told you and all this", she really wished she wouldn't blush here, but she couldn't help it, "I don't have anything to compare it to, but it feels really great, at least to me" "Me, too," Buffy interjected, turning her head and meeting those wonderfully familiar green eyes, and trying to be sure Willow understood her sincerity. "Really. I really like making love with you, Will." "Me, too, too," Willow acknowledged, looking back at Buffy's hazel eyes and stealing a quiet second of honest love before getting back to her point. "But, as great as this is, I know sex changes things, and they say sometimes you can lose a friendship that way, and I don't ever want to not be friends with you. As much as I love us being in love, I couldn't stand it if it meant that one day you're going to look at me and see That-Was-A-Big-Mistake Girl, and not your friend. I, I don't think I could take that&" Willow was determined not to cry, but she couldn't help quivering a bit. Buffy moved up a little bit and took her friend in her arms, holding her tight and not being able to completely ignore how sexy the naked hug was. But she forced herself to concentrate on the larger issue. "Will, that will never happen. I mean, I like to think we're going to always be together, but even if I'm wrong, I promise I won't regret this. Not only am I really happy now, but you seem to be" "I am, I am," Willow reassured her, whispering gently in her ear. "I'm just worrying too much and I know I shouldn't" "No, it's a good question, I worried so much about telling youwell, I guess we both didfor the same reason. I don't want to stop being friends, either. So let's not." Buffy clasped Willow by her shoulders, and shifted the redhead so she was sitting upright again. She moved back a little to create space between the two of them on the bed and adopted a similar posture, facing the other girl. "Pinkie-swear?" Buffy asked, putting forward her right hand with the indicated digit extended. Willow mutely agreed, stretching forth her own hand and interlocking her pinkie with Buffy's. "I, Buffy, swear that I will always be friends with Willow, who I love in every sense of the word, and that I'll always be open and honest and supporting, like a best friend should be, no matter what. Oh," she continued, remembering the specific matter at hand, "and I promise to never regret making love with you, because not only am I still all tingly" she threw that in just to see Willow have a naked, full-body, blush "but because it made you happy and making you happy is a good thing, so I won't regret it." Buffy smiled, and delighted in the smile that answered back. "I, Willow, who by the way loves Buffy just as much and always will, promise all the same things, but doubled, and also not to worry about things that aren't going to happen. Friends forever, no regrets." Buffy kept smiling and broke the pinkie-lock. "Except if we break up," the slayer noted. "I reserve the right to sit around and mope and go 'why couldn't I make it work with Willow, even though I love her so much? What's wrong with me?' And to eat lots of ice cream and get really fat." "No way!" Willow declared. "Your best friend won't let you. Besides, it's not in the pactyou let the fingers go before then." "Oh, darn," Buffy groaned, in mock-mortification. "Guess I'll just have to stay in love then, if I'm not allowed to mope." "Works for me," Willow concurred, leaning in for a surprisingly chaste kiss. "See?" Buffy said, breaking the kiss. "Doing it doesn't have to change anything." "I guess not. Definitely don't want to change this." "We won't have to," Buffy promised. "If anything, it's only going to make things more intense. When Angel and Ioh, maybe I shouldn't&?" Willow fixed Buffy with a silent, scolding stare. "Rightbest friends, friends talk, that's not going to changebasically the point of this whole conversation. Sorry." Willow relaxed into a small smile and said, conversationally, "That's all right; I love you." "Thanks. I love you, too," Buffy replied. "Anyway, the whole Angel thing was all about mystery and excitement, and after we did it I remember being all wondering about what now and trying to imagine what might happenof course, I had no clue about the curse and dozens of dead people" "Buffy" Willow cautioned. "but see how quickly and with a total absence of the Super-Giganto-Guilt I get back on topic," Buffy resumed, perhaps a shade too perkily, but Willow let it go. "So," Buffy continued, "with Angel I was excited and intrigued, and afterwards I was more excited and more interested, but no connection like I'm feeling here, with you. You and me, we were really close already and now I just feel that much closer. It's like we've always been lovers, only we didn't make love until last night." Willow nodded, understanding, and not that surprised that Buffy's feelings mirrored her own. "Stupid us," Willow began. "I guess we'll have to work real hard toAAH!" Buffy spun around before Willow had finished leaping off the bed, rising herself, eyes probing for what had frightened her mate so. The top sheet that had been draped over parts of their bodies billowed in the air like a sail as it fell to the ground, but Buffy could see nothing but a rosewood night table and, beyond that, the closet. "Will, what is it?" she rasped, maintaining her defensive stance. "The clock!" Willow said in horror, pointing at what seemed a perfectly normal clock. "What about it?" the even-more-confused slayer asked. "The, the time! It's almost 7:30! We have to get ready for school!" Willow insisted, in the sort of tones Giles reserved for apocalyptic prophecies. Buffy relaxed, a little upset. "Geez, Will, let's break a pencil and really panic. It doesn't matter if we're a little late." Willow, grabbing her bathrobe, looked at her like she was a Martian, but Buffy went on. "In fact," she said, feeling somewhat seductive, "I was thinking maybe we'd skip, do some of that catching up you were mentioning." She casually stretched her naked body to illustrate the suggestion. "We can't skip; I skipped yesterday. I have to catch up. And I don't want to be stuck at school all daywe have to go see Cordelia." "Again?" Buffy paled at the thought, walked away from Willow, and picked up the bedding from the floor. She wasn't going to say anything further, but she knew she had to; hadn't they just had a talk about communication? "Will, I don't know if that's such a good idea. Cordelia wants to shut us out, and while I get she's just being emotional, she hurt you yesterday and I don't want to have you go through that again." "Don't worry, Buffy," Willow said, almost nonchalantly, as she logged on to take a quick look at her email. Nothing really interesting, so she turned back to look at the still-naked slayer. "Yesterday was different; I thought I'd ruined everything for everyone, and it couldn't be fixed, ever. Now look," she said, gesturing to the two of them. "Fixed." "And better than ever," Buffy declared. "Uh-huh. And I was angry at Cordelia for getting hurt because it messed up any chance of me working through my guy problems, but now that I don't need a guy, I'm not angry, which is good, since the anger made me really guilty about being angry at someone I almost killed, 'cause, pretty selfish, that. So none of those problems any more, I'll be fine. Finer than fine." "By the way," Willow interrupted herself, while switching off the computer. "You look great naked like that, but you might want to use my other robe. It's in the closet, on the left." Buffy went to don the robe in question, which gave Willow the chance to get serious without being observed. "Besides," she said, talking about Cordelia again, "I don't feel right being so happy while she's so hurt. I did something really stupid, and yet, now I'm better than ever and Cordy nearly got killed. That's not right." She went and moved the chair blocking the door back to its proper position at her desk. "I just feel so sad for her. I did the bad thing and she's hurt and all alone in that awful hospital. And, worst," she added, crossing to Buffy and hugging the slayer from behind, "she doesn't have anybody to love, or to love her. She shouldn't have to suffer like that." "She won't, Will," Buffy said, turning around in the redhead's embrace and placing her hands on Willow's hips. "Cordelia will find love; I know that now." "You can't know that," Willow objected, slipping her hands into the pockets of Buffy's robe and stroking the blonde's thighs through the flannel. "Maybe the universe is rotten and we just got lucky." "No, I'm sure," Buffy insisted, leaning her forehead against Willow's and closing her eyes, reveling in their contact. "When I would get depressed, I used to think my life sucked because it was meant to; that I was the slayer and all I was good for was to kill things, and that's why I hurt Angel and you and I could never be happy." "But," she continued, opening her eyes to look into Willow's, "I was wrong; I found you, and now I know what love is. And if I can, anyone can. Cordelia will have love," Buffy repeated. "There's love enough for everyone." And she closed her eyes again, and leaned forward, into the kiss she knew would be there. And Willow's lips did meet Buffy's, because they were meant to. They kissed for about a minute and then Willow pulled back and asked lovingly, "So, do you want the first shower?" "No, you go first; I want to call Mom and tell her everything's okay, and ask her if I can have you at our place tonight." "You can have me any place you want," Willow cooed, picking up on the double-entendre with an empowering sauciness. "Really?" Buffy asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Does that shower fit two?" "Buffy," Willow frowned. "We can't do that now. I mean, bathroom," she said, gesturing at the rest of the house beyond her bedroom door, "hallway, parents' room. My folks are dense, but they're not dead." "Okay," Buffy conceded as she sat on Willow's bed. "You go first and I'll call my Mom." "All right. I'll just be a minute because we have to get to school. And you can pick out something of mine to wear." She headed for the door, but stopped and turned around. "Buffy?" Willow asked. "Yes, Will?" "The whole thing about you loving me aside," Willow said, unavoidably curious, "now that you've seen it and all, do I really have a sexy butt?" Buffy smiled a very wide smile and said: "Sexy-er, Will. A whole lot of 'er'." "Cool," Willow beamed, turning and leaving the room, as she gave the butt in question an exaggerated swing. As Willow crossed the hall, Buffy's slayer hearing picked up the redhead chanting quietly, in a proud, sing-song voice: "I've got a sexy butt; a sexy, sexy bu-utt." Buffy stared delightedly after the departed wiccan, still a little dazed at the thought that the wonderful girl was in love with her, and only very reluctantly turned and went to the telephone. To be continued in "The Dark of Night" |