FIC: Dianna Wears Red-Sixth Lesson

[Mad Hamlet <Mad-Hamlet@xxxxxxx>]

Disclaimer: All this belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Inc. (But I'm not
sure that+IBk-s such a good idea anymore.)


Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents
A Mad-Hamlet Production



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+IBk-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.+ICY" I stutter a bit, I'm trying to thinkof
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 tryto
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 againstmy
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+IBk-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, guesshe
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+IBk-t been avoiding him or anything but I haven+IBk-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 vengeanceon
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 closeto
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+IBk-s not it either. It+IBk-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+IBk-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 inmy
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.+ICY" 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+IBk-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+IBk-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 aGE
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+IBk-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-+IB0 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+IBk-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 glasson
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 ifwe
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 wantto
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 didit
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 heartto
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...+IB0

"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 nextto
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+IBk-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+IBk-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+IBk-s the kind with Oreo+IBk-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+IBk-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 whoI
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+IBk-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+IBk-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 hugto
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 theTV
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 tellingus
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 soI
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 careif
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 whathe
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 staresat
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+IBk-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+IBk-t see her, but I feel it. There+IBk-s no giveaway, she
doesn+IBk-t grab my hand any tighter or anything but she tenses. I react,
tightening my own grip so when she does run I won+IBk-t be left-

Buffy tries to yank free when she turns to run, but I don+IBk-t let her go. I
won+IBk-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+IBk-t hear anyone behind us; no one is shouting our name trying to get Buffy
to stop or anything. They+IBk-re probably still stuck in that stunned silence
thing. 

My shoulder hurts, she+IBk-s pulling away from me and I can+IBk-t stretch my arm
any farther, she keeps this up either my shoulder will be pulled from its
socket of I+IBk-ll get left behind. The former is a possibility, I can see that
happening, I+IBk-m willing to let that happen but no way in Hell will I let
Buffy leave me behind. 

Legs must go faster+ICY-must go faster+ICY 

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

Won+IBk-t +ICY-haah+ICY.haah+ICY-betray her.

Run faster. Must+ICY-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+IBk-s the problem though, this air isn+IBk-t pure. It+IBk-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+IBk-ve spent the afternoon searching
these woods for signs of her passage but so far there haven+IBk-t been any.That
leaves two options:

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

Have to change my thinking. If she+IBk-s acting bestial, giving in to her baser
instincts that means she might have adopted certain traits. She+IBk-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+IBk-s acting bestial,
not becoming a beast; still means it+IBk-s possible but I+IBk-d doubt it. Kills
then, but small piles of vampire ashes don+IBk-t make a good marker. Possibly
demon bodies. Okay lets see if we can find something like that then, if that
doesn+IBk-t work we+IBk-ll hit the trees, see what we can find up there.

First things first though, I+IBk-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+IBk-s the pounding in my skull that demands I wakeup.


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

I look around quickly. We+IBk-re in her bedroom at her house. I+IBk-m lyingon 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+ICY?" I start to say.

"I carried you, " Buffy interrupts me gently. "You wouldn+IBk-t let go of my
hand, Willow. I tried to shake you off but you wouldn+IBk-t let go. " She says
it in a faint whisper, like she can+IBk-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+IBk-t mean to run, Will. Just had to but you
wouldn+IBk-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 itto
her lips. "I needed to think anyway," she says. "I+IBk-m glad you didn+IBk-t let
me go, didn+IBk-t leave me alone, but I did need time to think, to feel."

"Come up with anything?" I ask.
	
Buffy+IBk-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 everythingI
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+IBk-s no regret in her tone.
It+IBk-s just a fact. "Hunt and stalk. Seek out my prey and destroy it. Runit
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 somethingon
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+IBk-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+IBk-s voice is horse, rough getting deeper. "...couldn't touch! I
couldn+IBk-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+IBk 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+IBk-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+IBk-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


W.B. Yeats: What rough beast, its hour come at last, slouches toward Bethlehem
to be born?

Mad-Hamlet: Me.