Here's my answer to Dan's Birthday challenge. Some
minor spoilage is
involved in this fic, so here's the Spoiler Space;
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Disclaimers; Buffy and Willow are owned by Joss
Whedon and subject to his
whims. That's all there is, there ain't no more.
Spoilers; general sixth season, plus some
speculation on future episodes and
Season seven. All speculation is mine, not meant to
be taken as canon.
Rating; R for sexuality
Archives; Let me know and spell my name right. Near
Her Always, go for it.
Feedback; It's chicken soup for the fic writer's
soul!
Summary; Buffy and Willow face the lowest point of
their lives, and are
reborn. My answer to the Willow's Birthday
challenge.
The Sun's Birthday
By Kirayoshi
i thank You God for most this amazing
day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and for a blue true dream of sky and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
i who have died am alive again this day
and today is the sun's birthday, and today is the
birth
day of life and of love and wings
and the gay great happening illimitably earth
how could tasting touching seeing hearing
breathing any lifted from the no
of all nothing human merely being
doubt unimaginable you?
now the ears of my ears are awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened
--e. e. cummings
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
After all that she had gone through, all the
heartache, all the pain and
struggle, the last thing she needed was another
burden.
And that's what I had become.
My magic, the power I had used to help her, had
turned against her. Against
me.
And there was no one to blame for what had happened
but myself.
I owed Glory pain for what she had done to my Tara
and I unleashed my anger,
my rage and hatred on her, fueling my magic with my
darkest emotions. And it
was so easy.
So easy to fall into the darkness.
When Buffy died, I didn't mourn. I didn't grieve.
I planned. I found a
spell to bring her back. And it worked.
It worked too well. I only succeeded in dragging
her out of Heaven. And
into Spike's arms.
She was disjointed, out of herself, unable to feel
or even live properly.
And each day away from Heaven brought her further
away from us, from the
Scoobs, from Dawn, and closer to Spike. And leave
it to that manipulating
bastard to take advantage of Buffy's emotional state
to get into her panties.
We didn't even find out about it until a few months
later, but it still hurt
us like hell. Like a kick to the gut.
And I didn't even notice what was happening to her
then. I was too busy
reveling in my new powers. But once the high of
each new spell wore off, I
felt emptier. When Amy hooked me up with the
warlock Rack, it only got
worse. It took my putting Dawn in danger that
finally rammed it home to me;
I needed to stop. I went on the magic wagon, and
after the initial
withdrawal wore off, things seemed to be getting
better, for me and for
Buffy.
About the time that Xander broke it off with Anya
(making me feel sorry for
the ex-vengeance demon for the first time ever!),
Buffy finally started to
come out of it. She made a clean break from Spike,
started getting her life
back on track, paid more attention to Dawn, even
tried to play matchmaker
between me and Tara again. I had my friend back, I
had hope of winning
Tara's heart again, and life was good.
For all of about three weeks.
Then it hit the fan, hard.
Warren and his nerd squad had been plotting
something, we didn't know what at
the time, and in the end it didn't really matter.
Warren wanted to control
the demon population of Sunnydale, and saw Buffy as
his main obstacle. He
tried to kill her, and he almost killed me. I don't
even remember the
precise sequence of events. All I remember was that
he had a gun pointed
straight at me, an ugly leer distorting his face,
then I heard the shot.
When I opened my eyes and looked around, I remember
feeling vaguely relieved
that I was still alive. Until I saw her on the
floor. Tara, her lovely
blonde hair splattered with blood, her body sprawled
to the ground like an
abandoned puppet. And Warren with that satisfied
smirk on his face. He was
a human, but he had succeeded in something no demon
or vamp had ever done
before. He had killed one of the Scooby Gang.
He had killed Tara.
And like Glory before him, I owed him pain. And I
paid him.
The dark magic screamed in my veins, and I let it
course through me and out
of me. I didn't know if anyone had been caught in
the crossfire, nor did I
care. All I could see was Warren's face as I
blasted him with my hatred, my
rage.
I felt another power join with mine, and didn't
question it as our combined
energies washed through Warren's body, desiccating
it utterly. By the time I
realized that I was drawing power from Rack, I was
past caring. Past
wanting, past feeling. Past doing anything except
following Rack. Rack told
me to attack Buffy and I did, without question.
The mighty Slayer didn't have a chance. I had her
pinned against the wall,
unable to move her arms in defense. Rack's voice in
my mind ordered me to
finish the job, to wrench Buffy's head off. But
another voice, small and
stuttering, made itself heard.
Tara's voice.
Don't ask me how it happened, or why, but I felt
Tara within me. Forgiving
me for my mistakes, encouraging me to turn away from
Rack. I had no strength
left to turn away from my own addiction, but Tara
believed that I could. She
believed in me, and reminded me of the person I was.
And she gave me the
strength to be that person, if only for an instant.
There wasn't time to fight against Rack, he would
have strengthened his hold
on me the moment he felt me rebel. There was only
time for one action.
Reject Rack, reject his magic.
I channeled my mind into one single thought; to cast
all magic out of my
system, to completely cleanse myself of Rack's
taint. Something must have
happened, because all I remember was seeing a
blinding light, and feeling
like all my synapses were being flash fried. Then
there was nothingness,
followed by excruciating pain, as Xander lifted me
to my feet, asking if I
was okay. I said nothing. I looked around the
battlefield, at the dead
bodies of Rack and Amy, at the charred remains of
demons, at the fallen
figure of Buffy, being tended to by paramedics. I
couldn't speak, I couldn't
answer Xander's question. Okay? I wasn't okay, and
I knew then that I'd
never be okay again.
Tara was dead.
Warren was dead.
Amy was dead.
Rack was dead.
Buffy was nearly dead.
And I was the killer.
I let Xander guide my body to Buffy's house, to my
bedroom. I was getting
pretty good at letting others take control of my
body, wasn't I? I mumbled
assurances to Xander that I'd be okay, but he
offered to stay downstairs
while Buffy was being treated at the hospital. Dawn
poked her head in for a
moment, asking if I was okay. I murmured something
to her. That seemed to
satisfy her. I just lay on the bed, waiting for
Dawn to fall asleep.
Waiting for Xander to sack out on the sofa, watching
Cartoon Network.
When I knew that they had fallen asleep, I threw a
few things in a suitcase,
grabbed my checkbook and credit cards, scribbled a
goodbye note to Buffy, and
tiptoed out the front door. I bought a bus ticket,
hopped on the Greyhound
to LA and didn't look back.
It was better this way, I kept telling myself. Get
away from the darkness,
the soul-swallowing abyss that was Sunnydale. After
the hell I put her
through this past year, Buffy would be glad to know
I was out of her life.
When I went to some diner for a burger, I met a girl
named Anne, and we hit
it off. She seemed to be another lost soul, like
me. But underneath the
grubby exterior, she was sweet, caring and friendly.
She put me up in her
shoebox apartment, helped me get a job at the diner,
and kept me company when
I woke up crying out Buffy's name in the middle of
the night.
We didn't talk about our pasts. We both agreed that
our pasts were just
that, past. No histories for either of us, we
simply looked toward the
future. We grew closer as the days turned into
weeks. She didn't flinch
when I admitted that I was a lesbian, she even gave
me a kiss. And she
didn't pull away.
For the next couple of months or so, we became
kissing friends. We'd spend
hours after work just kissing, maybe a little
caressing. Her lips were
sweet, and sometimes she'd become more daring and
start fondling my breasts
through my blouse. I got the impression that she
wanted me, and was waiting
for me to make the next move. But as much as I
wanted to, as much as I
wanted to strip this lovely young woman of her
clothing and make mad
passionate love to her, I didn't. I had lost Tara,
and betrayed Buffy.
There could be no one else.
My love was toxic. I wouldn't let anyone get that
close to me again.
The first day of October was when it all ended. I
had pulled a double-shift
at the diner, which didn't bother me too much; Anne
and I would have a little
extra money after paying rent, maybe we could take
in a movie. After helping
close the diner, I headed out to the bus stop.
I didn't make it. A group of punks stepped out of
the shadows and started
leering at me. "Hey Sweetcheeks!" the lead punk
chortled. "What's a nice
girl like you doing out alone? Some strange shit
goes down at night in LA, a
girl like you's not safe alone. I'd better stick
close to you." He tried to
wrap his arm around my waist, but I pushed him off.
I could smell stale beer
and stronger liquor on his breath, and other, more
foul odors coming from his
leather jacket.
"No thanks," I pushed him away, "I'm not
interested!"
The punks started laughing as I backed away. "Hey,
Arturo," the head punk
called out to the short punk at his left. "Did you
hear me offer Sweetcheeks
a choice?"
"No, Big," Arturo cackled. "I don't think I did!"
The others laughed loudly
in agreement.
Big turned toward me, eyeing me like a hungry man at
a Thanksgiving dinner.
"Sister," he growled lowly as he started to unzip
his jacket, "I'd advise you
to simply lay back and enjoy it. Who knows, maybe
you'll see things
differently!"
He started slowly toward me, his intent clear in his
actions. Rapidly
rifling through my purse, I pulled out my handy
crucifix, and thrust it out
in front of him. He just looked at it for a few
seconds, and angrily swatted
it out of my hand. He then pushed me hard against
the wall, snarling, "What
do you think we are, sister? Vampires?"
"No," a dark voice echoed through the alleyway,
"that would be me!" A blur
of fists and feet knocked Big away from me, allowing
me to fall from his
hand, and struggle to my feet again. Even if I
hadn't caught a glimpse of
his face, I'd recognize him from his voice, and the
duster jacket hovering
around him like a mantle.
Angel grabbed Big by his jacket, snarling in his
full game-face. "I'll say
this once, Big. The red-head's under my protection.
Tell your buddies.
Tell all the lowlife scum you associate with.
Anything happens to her, I
will find out. Get it?"
"Yeah, yeah," the suddenly very small Big answered.
"I got it!" Angel
dropped Big like a sack of potatoes, then turned
toward me. "You okay,
Willow?"
I tried to nod, to assure him that Big hadn't
roughed me up too much. Before
I could speak, I caught sight of Arturo from the
shadows, a wooden stake in
his hand. "Hey, Angel!" he shouted, throwing the
stake at Angel.
Without thinking, I pushed the vampire out of the
way, just as the stake
connected with my head. A blinding fire inside my
head, an all-consuming
pain. The knowledge that soon I'd be with Tara
again. Then oblivion.
<<>>
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
I was supposed to keep her safe, to protect her.
But when she ran off after
Tara's death, I couldn't contact her. I asked Angel
to keep an eye out for
her, but he hadn't heard anything for months. I
really believed that I had
lost her, that I was finally truly alone in the
world. Anya had gone back to
being a vengeance demon, Xander had concentrated on
his position at the
construction firm to get over his grief, while Spike
was de-chipped and
officially back on Big Bad status. I had Dawn, but
I wasn't going to let her
join me on my patrols.
Tara's death, and Willow's disappearance had managed
to do what no monster
could do before. The Scooby Gang, for all intents
and purposes, was no
more.
I still patrolled, still fought the good fight.
That's what I am, ain't it?
The all-mighty Slayer? Screw that, I hadn't felt
even half-mighty since
Willow left. I had finally started to feel whole
again after my
resurrection, but losing her was like being hollowed
out all over again.
I kept remembering what Spike had said to me before.
How Willow, Dawn,
Xander, all my friends and family, had kept me
grounded, stabilized between
light and dark. Now I was alone, and I feared what
I would become. A few
weeks ago, while facing an especially vicious pack
of vamps, I wanted that
dark side of me to escape and run riot, to literally
get medieval on them. I
wanted to shed my humanity forever and simply be the
Slayer.
But I couldn't, not while I still had Dawn to look
after. And not while
there was still a chance that I would see Willow
again.
Then came October the first. Midnight. I had just
closed the Magic Box, did
a cursory patrol of the neighborhood, then dragged
myself back home,
relishing a hot shower and then entering a comatose
level of sleep. Before
the shower, the phone rang. I picked it up, ready
to murder whatever
telemarketer dared to disturb me at such a late
hour.
"Buffy!" Cordy's voice cried out urgently. "Angel
found Willow, and we've
got her here at the office!"
She didn't have to say any more. I left a note for
Dawn, hopped into the
Jeep and drove off for Los Angeles.
Two hours later, I was standing in the lobby of the
Hyperion Arms, being
greeted by a shy young woman with a Texas accent.
"Hi," she smiled at me.
"You must be Buffy. I'm Fred. Short for Winifred."
"I came as soon as Cordy called. Where is she?"
Angel came down the main stairs, and nodded his
greeting to me. "She's in
one of the guest rooms, recovering. Local punks
were planning on raping her
when I showed up. Just as I put the fear of God in
their leader, one of them
threw a stake at me. Willow got between the stake
and myself."
I felt myself going faint, vaguely aware of strong
arms catching me. "Easy,
Slayer," the strangely smooth voice (I later
identified it as Angel's demon
friend Lorne) assured me. "Your friend's fine."
"It turns out that Arturo didn't have any idea how
to throw a stake," Angel
explained as Lorne led me to an easy chair. "It just
tumbled at me, clubbing
Willow in the head. Knocked her unconscious."
"Angel brought her here," Fred continued, "and the
rest of us looked after
her. She doesn't seem concussed, so she'll just
wake up with a nasty lump on
her noggin."
"Thanks, Fred," I answered weakly. "Can I see her?"
"Sure," Angel took my hand, and led me up the
stairs. "She'll be a little
groggy when she wakes up, but she should be up soon.
Oh, and her roommate's
up there with her."
Roommate? Who's this, a new girl in her life? I
let Angel lead me down the
hallway, to Willow's room. I saw a young woman
sitting at her side, holding
her hand and whispering assurances to her. "Hey," I
said quietly. "Is she
okay?"
"Yeah, just asleep," the brunette answered as she
lifted her head to me.
I gasped when I saw her. "Lily?"
She smiled at me, saying, "Please, it's Anne now."
"Oh, right." I walked over to her side, my eyes
intent on Willow. She
looked so thin and pale, her red hair seemed muted,
her face gaunt and
stretched. And she was still as beautiful as a
hundred sunrises.
"So, you and Willow were roomies?" I asked Anne.
"Yeah, we work together at the diner."
I looked at her for a moment. "Are you two-"
"Oh, no," she answered hastily. "Not like that."
She paused and looked at
Willow for a moment. "Well, we kiss a little. But
that's it."
"You in love with her?"
She took one last longing look at Willow, and then
turned to me. "Not
really. I thought I was once. But she's still
holding a torch for someone
else, someone she thinks she lost forever."
I nodded at once. "Yeah, I know. Tara."
She glanced at me in surprise. "Whatever." She let
go of Willow's hand, got
up and walked slowly toward the door. "I'll be
downstairs, and I'll tell the
others you don't want to be disturbed for awhile."
She gave me a strange
smile, then whispered "Make her happy." She then
turned away.
I started to wonder what she was talking about, but
that's when Willow
started to stir. I rushed to her side, as her head
started to roll back and
forth on the pillow. I heard little moans and
strangled cries coming from
her opened lips, as whatever nightmare she was
reliving went through its
final stages. "N-no, no," she moaned.
"Buffy-Bu-bu-BUFFY!" She bolted
upright, screaming my name. Her hair was matted
with sweat, her breath came
in short, shallow gasps. I immediately took her
hand in mine, whispering to
her, "It's okay, honey. I'm here. I'm not going
anywhere." Instinctively,
she grabbed my waist, clinging to me fiercely. I
wrapped my arms around her,
letting her grief wash over and through her, through
us both.
It had occurred to me then that Willow never
properly grieved for Tara. Just
like I didn't have the chance to truly mourn for
Mom. I like to think that
while we were holding each other that night, we
finally made our peace with
the dead.
Finally, we both cried ourselves out, and were able
to face each other.
Willow gazed mournfully at me, saying "Oh, Buffy, I
thought I'd never see you
again."
"You ever disappear on me like that," I told her,
gently but firmly, "and
next time I won't forgive you."
Willow tilted her head onto my shoulder, still
unwilling to let me go. "I'm
sorry, Buffy. I just couldn't stay in Sunnydale
anymore. Not after what I
did."
I held her head in my hands and forced her to look
me in the eyes. "You
didn't do anything," I told her, "except scare me to
death when you ran away.
And since I've gone that route before, I can't yell
at you too loudly."
I could see the anguish returning to Willow's face,
as she cried out to me.
"I killed Warren, Buffy! I let Rack corrupt me! I
nearly killed you!"
"Willow," I had to talk a little more forcefully to
drown her out. "You
didn't kill Warren. Jonathan and I looked into what
happened that night. It
was Rack. Rack manipulated us all from the get-go.
He set up Warren to kill
Tara, hoping for just the response that you gave
him. He wanted you mad, he
wanted you so furious that you'd fall off the magic
wagon and work that dark
mojo on Warren. Everything else was Rack acting
through you. He controlled
you, he pulled your strings."
"I shouldn't have given him those strings in the
first place," Willow
answered ruefully. "Because I got into the dark
stuff, Tara's dead, and you
were nearly killed."
I snorted briefly. "Willow, I'm nearly killed at
least once a month. It
comes with being the Slayer." I took her hand
gently, and continued. "What
happened that night wasn't your fault. You're only
guilty of being human.
And I can forgive you for that. Most of the time."
Willow glanced up at me again, a desperate hope in
her eyes. "Wha-what do you
mean?"
"There was only one time when you ever really hurt
me, Willow," I told her
sternly. "It was when you ran away. I lost my best
friend. My center, my
soul, my strength." I choked back a sob and steeled
my resolve. I wasn't
going to break down now that I finally was going to
say what I had wanted to
say for so long. "I've managed to get my life back
in some semblance of
order. When Anya went back to being a vengeance
demon, Giles contacted me,
and put me in charge of the Magic Box. And the
shop's been doing some good
business. But it's not the same anymore. Because
you're not there. I need
you, Willow. Don't you understand that?"
Willow turned away from me, collapsing again on the
bed. For the longest
moment of my life, I sat watching her, praying that
she would speak to me.
Finally, she rolled onto her back, looked at me and
spoke; "I can't do it
anymore, Buffy. The magic, I mean. It's gone.
Literally gone. I tried
some simple spells, basic stuff, Wicca 101.
Nothing. I can't even float a
pencil anymore. It's like I gave up all the magic I
had to turn away the
dark mojo that Rack fed into me." She sat up,
tucking her knees up to her
chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. "And
the craziest thing is, I
don't miss it anymore. Whatever good I did with my
magic before, I blew that
out of the water with the mistakes I made this last
year. But I don't know
if I can come back to you, Buffy. I mean, it's
still a good fight, but I
don't know if I can still fight it?"
I looked intently into her green eyes. The spark
that I missed for so many
months was still there, faint but still glowing. I
had feared that her spark
had been extinguished for good after what Rack had
done to her. But it was
still there. "Willow," I smiled. "You have fought
the good fight every day
of your life! By being Willow. By not letting the
monsters get to you.
Please, Willow, I'm begging you here. Don't let me
down now." I wrapped my
arms around her shoulders, a little awkwardly
because she was still hugging
her knees, but she managed to open her arms, and
place them so softly at my
sides. "I'm not whole without you." As we held
each other, I could feel her
body pressing closer against mine. She managed to
lower her knees so we were
pressing up, body to body. I could feel her breasts
pressing against mine.
Her breath was warm and sweet against my neck.
After a moment, I distinctly
felt her hands tracing lazy circles over the back of
my shirt, circles that
started to reach lower and even lower with each
stroke. Willow Rosenberg,
you little tart, you're trying to cop a feel! Like
you need permission,
girl, feel away!
Willow and I just held each other for a moment that
could stretch into
forever as far as I was concerned. Just to savor
the softness of Willow's
arms around mine, the tenderness of her touchâ?¦Dear
God, why did I wait so
long to express my deepest self? Whyâ?¦because I
had a fear of being rejected,
or locked up, that's why! Didn't I learn anything
from that dream-scape
where I was in a psych ward for telling my folks
about my being the Slayer?
Willow gazed up at me, love and purest desire
sparkling in her eyes. I
nearly melted on the spot; I never dreamed that she
would look at me that
way, and now here she was, willing and needy. "Just
answer me one question,
Buffy," she said with a slight huskiness in her
voice. "How did I manage to
deserve you, after all we've been through."
I lifted her chin with my forefinger, bringing her
mouth so close to mine. I
could only echo the words I said to Tara just a
month before her death.
"Because once you fall for Willow Rosenberg, you
just keep falling."
I still don't know whether Willow started kissing me
or I started kissing
her. In the end it doesn't matter, because at that
very moment, our lips met
and slowly started to move against each other. I
felt the tip of Willow's
tongue lapping at the crevice between my lips, and
as I opened my lips her
tongue started to touch my teeth. There was no
other way to say it; I was
getting turned on hotter than I ever had before!
She pulled away, and I tried to lean forward to
maintain the connection, but
she pushed me away. I must have done a lousy job of
hiding my pain, because
she suddenly looked at me with sympathy. "I'm
sorry, Buffy," she explained,
as her hands grabbed the hem of her shirt and
started to pull it over her
head. "I just can't kiss and get naked at the same
time! Especially wearing
a polo shirt!"
"Good point," I conceded as I began to undress
myself. Willow, who now had
divested her shirt and now sported a pale white
cotton bra, placed her hand
over mine, stopping me from going further. "Let
me," she flashed me a
Cheshire Cat smile, as she pushed me down on the
bed. She placed her finger
on her lips, got off the bed, went over to the door,
and locked it shut.
"Don't want anyone interrupting, do we?"
Uh, no, that would not be a good thing. Especially
since I'm so aroused that
I can barely see straight. She climbed back on the
bed and crawled over me,
her movements slow and supple, reminding me of a
playful cat. She grinned
back at me again, saying, "Now then, where were we?"
The rest of the night she educated me. I learned
about sensitive areas of my
body that all my previous lovers didn't even bother
to search. And I learned
where Willow was sensitive, and took full advantage
of that knowledge. With
our bodies, and with words, we both pledged our love
to each other. I never
dared to recognize how much I truly loved her, how I
cherished and desired
her, depended on her for strength and hope. And I
never even dreamed that
she loved me a tenth as much as I loved her. That
night, that wonderful,
crazy night, dispelled all doubts, and laid all
fears to rest.
After I calmed down from the most incredible series
of orgasms I ever felt, I
looked at Willow, as she lay snuggling in my arms.
"Hey," I commented. "You
know what day it is?"
"Uh," Willow furrowed her lovely brow in thought for
a moment, then said,
"October the second, right?"
"Yep," I answered. "One year ago today, you and the
others brought me back
from the grave."
Willow bowed her head sadly, murmuring, "You mean
the day I dragged you out
of Heaven, kicking and screaming all the way."
"Yeah," I admitted. "But you more than made up for
it just now."
"I did?" Her puzzled look was priceless.
"Oh yeah," I drawled. "You just brought me to
Heaven several times over!"
Kissing the tip of her nose, I added, "I love you,
Willow Rosenberg."
I could feel the splash of a tear on my breast as
Willow looked up at me with
watery eyes. "And I love you, Buffy Summers," she
said solemnly. "With all
my heart. From the moment we first met." We held
each other for a few more
minutes, just relishing the closeness that we had
denied for so long, and
would never deny again.
Oh God or Goddess, whoever's taking calls right now,
thank you for giving me
this second chance with Willow Rosenberg!
<<>>
After hastily putting on our clothes we made our way
downstairs. Cordy, Anne
and Fred were waiting for us. "So," Cordy smirked
knowingly. "When do I get
the invite for the commitment ceremony?"
"Wha-how did you know?" Willow stammered.
"Well, for one thing," Cordy pointed at her top,
"you and Buffy are wearing
each other's shirts." I rolled my eyes at the
realization; leave it for the
former fashion queen of Sunnydale High to figure
that out. Anne just gave me
an understanding nod, while Fred was fighting
valiantly to stop giggling, but
in the end it was a losing battle. Soon her
laughter spread to Willow and
Anne, then to Cordy and myself, and we all ended up
laughing loudly for a few
minutes.
"Say," I asked as my self-control reasserted itself,
"where's Angel and
Gunn?"
"Charles is investigating a demon nest at the
piers," Fred answered. "As for
Angel, well, it's almost his bedtime."
"What?" I glanced at the clock, which read 5:45.
"Omigod," Willow whispered.
"How long were we up there?"
"Judging from the squeaking mattress springs," Cordy
smirked at us again,
"long enough."
"I guess this means you'll be heading back to
Sunnydale," Anne observed.
"Yeah," Willow answered. "Sorry if I'm putting you
on the spot or anything,
Anne."
"Don't sweat it, Willow," Anne smiled. "I'll put an
ad in the paper for a
new roommate. I just hope she's open minded."
"You'll do fine," Willow assured her. She turned to
me, and said, "I'll need
a day or two to get things straight here. Tell the
owner of the diner that I
quit and all that. Maybe I'll re-enroll at U. C.
Sunnydale."
"That's my plan," I told her. "I just sent my
second enrollment letter to U.
C. Sunnydale a few weeks ago, and hopefully this
time I'll get in again." I
looked out the window, seeing the first reddening
clouds over the streets of
LA. "C'mon, Willow," I grabbed her hand and led her
out the front door.
"Let's go see the sunrise."
"Our first sunrise together," Willow commented. I
smiled hugely at the
realization that this would be the first of many
sunrises we would see
together.
Ever since then, Willow and I both celebrate our
birthdays on October the
second. The day when Willow brought me back to
life, and the day when we
found our true rebirth in each other.
We sat on the front steps of the Hyperion, arms
around each other, and
celebrated the Sun's Birthday.
FINIS