by AntigoneUnbound » Thu Nov 07, 2002 11:41 pm
On Second Thought—Part 6
But first, some final responses to those wonderful souls who offer the beautiful manna of feedback~~
]]Hermitstull: Oh, Willow is a brave little toaster, isn’t she? I’m looking forward to seeing what you think of future installments, considering your interest in Oz as a villain. Thanks for your thoughts.
]]Sonya: I really appreciate the feedback re: the believability of Tara’s vixen side. Thanks!
]]Hush: Yeah, I definitely see Tara as such a calming presence, especially for chatter-box, babbling-insecurity Willow. Thanks for the feedback.
]]tkheaven: I’m glad the angst isn’t too much for you. Hope you like this part.
]]Ruth: Yeah, the playful part is definitely a big thing for me. You make an excellent point: they know each other so well in so many ways, and yet they’re just broaching this wonderful new part of their connection. And I’m so glad you like the humor! It makes it fun to write, that’s certainly true. Thanks for your kind comments.
]]Insanity: Oh, I love Anya, too. She’s such a fantastic catalyst, especially in illuminating the other characters. Thanks!
]]Karen: Don’t let that work get in the way of Kitten board time! I’m so glad that this fic helps bring our girls back to you. I know exactly what episode you’re talking about, which makes me think you’ll appreciate a particular exchange in this next update. Thanks for your kind words.
And now…We return to our story
Premise: Way the heck back in S4, Willow makes a difficult choice
Disclaimer: Joss and ME own our fair damsels; I join other kittens in storming the castle to set them free.
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to the end of "New Moon Rising"
Distribution: But of course…Please give credit and disclaimer. Thanks.
Feedback: I’d definitely appreciate it.
Summary: Willow initially chose Oz, in no small part b/c she believed he needed her more. It became clear, however, that her love for Tara was only growing.Willow ran into Tara at the Bronze, only to find Tara being, shall we say, appreciated by another woman. Willow fled, Tara followed, Big Time Sensuality (to quote Bjork) ensued. They fell asleep contentedly in each other’s arms. Willow awoke to the sound of someone entering the room—Oz, stopping by on an ill-advised whim. Oz wolfed out, but Tara employed a soothing spell that included, in essence, offering herself to the werewolf while Willow was anchored in a state of safety and calm. After a rather tenuous stand-off, Oz bounded out the door, still in wolf form. The next day, Willow and Tara called a Scooby meeting to talk about the night’s events, a conversation that included Willow coming out to everyone. The meeting ended with the plan that everyone try to locate Oz, using a reasoned mixture of caring and caution. By the next evening, however, Oz was still MIA. Leaving Giles’ house, Willow feels a sudden and inexplicable conviction that he’s still in Sunnydale, and that this whole drama is far from over.
And now—we return to our story.
Part 6
The three women were quiet for much of the walk back to their dorms. Finally, Willow spoke up.
"I know he wolfed out, and it wasn’t even a full moon. And Tara, Baby—thinking about what he could have done to you…" The images filled her mind’s eye once more, and she shook her head in utter refusal of the possibilities. "It’s just that it feels so wrong to think of Oz as a Big Bad. You guys, we had a Scooby meeting to talk about him, and how dangerous he is right now. And I know we had to, ’cause he is, but there’s a part of me that can’t help thinking that this is Oz. And that it’s just so weird to be thinking about all of this."
"I know, Will. I mean, Oz pretty much set the standard for understatement. I was sort of reminiscing one day last summer, after we took down the Mayor to avert our third apocalypse in three years. Hey," she halted abruptly. "Does it ever seem weird to you that all of our catastrophic show-downs occur in May? It’s like it’s sweeps time on television or something…Anyway, I was thinking about everything that had happened; how much everything changed that day…" She looked away for a moment; Willow knew she was thinking about one change in particular, a leaving that had never healed. "Anyway," she continued, squaring her shoulders unconsciously, "the winner for ‘Most Remarkable Transformation During a Total Eclipse’ was the Mayor, hands-down. But Oz, running and shouting and speaking in compound sentences—he was a very compelling runner-up."
"Exactly," Willow replied. "Seeing him that out of control, when it isn’t even a wolf-moon…It’s just so hard to accept." She looked over at Tara, who had barely spoken since leaving Giles’ house. "But I have to accept it, because he’s already attacked Tara in broad daylight, and if she hadn’t reacted like she did last night, he would have attacked her again."
"And you," Tara said softly, squeezing her hand gently.
"Well, yes, there’s that part." Willow managed a small grin; she was relieved to see Tara reflect it.
"Yeah, Tara, I gotta say—nice work on that whole ‘Wolf Whisperer’ thing," Buffy put in, resting her hand on Tara’s back for a brief but affectionate moment. Willow felt her heart lift at the sight: it was so important for her that Buffy welcome Tara as Willow’s partner.
"Well, b-back home we had a w-werewolf petting zoo that Mom used to take us to," Tara replied.
"Are you—? No, you’re not even remotely serious. Are you?" Buffy’s eyes were widened in a conflict between horror and amusement.
"Jeez, Buff—suburban much?" Willow asked, then turned to Tara with a grin. My girl…When she works it, she works it oh-so-well. Then the serious thoughts returned and clamored for her attention. "My point is, he’s attacked Tara twice, and I can’t even think of her being in that kind of danger again. And yes, I have no real desire to be part of the demon food-chain myself, so I’m not trying to play martyr. I’m just saying that as hard as it is to accept that he has the potential to hurt someone I love, I have to accept it." She realized she’d stopped walking; she was holding fiercely onto Tara’s hand, trying to will Tara to see and feel the depth of her alliance. They were together now; a package deal. Her own grief and guilt over Oz’s discovery, and its fall-out, couldn’t obscure the bright, clear sun flare that was her commitment to Tara.
Tara’s eyes met hers, and Willow thought that she could see mists swirling and then clearing from the blue portals. Willow leaned in, just slightly, and whispered, "Nothing is more important than you. No one matters more." She saw, more than heard, Tara mouth the words, "Thank you."
Buffy had drawn to a stop as well, pausing two or three steps away. When they rejoined her, she linked her arm through Tara’s. "Don’t get jealous, Will. And don’t get your hopes up, Tara." She flashed her patented "Sometimes I’m too cute for words" smile.
"Don’t worry, Buffy. I prefer redheads."
Willow thought her heart would just about burst, and thought so again when Buffy replied, "Can’t say as I blame you where a certain Ms. Rosenberg is concerned, Ms. Maclay."
OK, so I live on the Hellmouth. My first boyfriend turned into a werewolf, mated with another werewolf, and I walked in on them. I’ve fought and killed creatures that would make Vin Diesel pee his pants. And organic chemistry is tougher than I expected. But right now I am just about the luckiest person I know.
As they approached the small quad that housed both dorms, Buffy said, "Willow, I’m guessing you and Tara want to stay together tonight. How about I walk you two to her dorm and then head back to our room."
Willow felt herself blushing ridiculously. "Well, yeah; I mean, I left some books there, and I do have that calculus exam on Monday, and you can just never be too prepared for calculus, I say; well, actually, you can, I guess, in the sense that you can get so involved in calculus that you miss other things, like, for instance, that you have to go to the bathroom. Not that I’ve ever done that; I’m just being Hypothetical Girl here, offering various rebuttals to my original statement about the mega-importance of calculus preparation." She trailed off as she saw Buffy and Tara looking at her with the kind of affectionate befuddlement one might bestow upon a new but rather endearing circus oddity.
"Has she always done this?" Tara asked.
"I think Willow’s first words were probably something along the lines of, ‘Mommy, can I have a drink? Like, I’d really like a mocha, but—hello—infant here, so I’m guessing you’re not much on jazzin’ up the already hyper baby with some joe, so, hey, a little bitty drink of water would be A-OK with me.’" Buffy grinned at Tara, who in turn looked at Willow with…Oh, that’s her Naked Adoration look. I love that look.
"Willow, if you and Tara don’t have something better to do on your second night together than study for a math exam, I am going to be seriously disappointed. Have I taught you nothing, my child?"
"I learned at the feet of the Master," Willow intoned. "Uh, not the yucky master, the one whose bones you sorta went cave-man on." She saw Tara grinning at her. "So yes, wise elder, I heed your words: I shall stay with fair maiden and enjoy her many charms."
"Atta girl, Will!" They headed toward Tara’s dorm, the exact name of which was difficult to discern. Suddenly, Willow stopped.
"Wait a minute, Buffy. If you walk us back, who’s gonna be with you?"
"Willow, I’m the slayer. I go on patrol alone. I walk the streets alone. I admire myself alone. I’ll be fine." She tugged on Willow’s arm and resumed the homeward march.
"I know; I just wish there was a way for you to have an escort, too. On principle, you know?"
"I got it, Will. You stay here, and let’s have Tara walk me back to our room, and then we’ll call you, and you can wait until a pizza delivery boy comes to her dorm and then you can ride with him as far as possible, and then you call us with his cell phone, and I’ll walk Tara in that general direction, and we’ll meet up in San Jose and call a cab. Sound good?"
"Infinitely so! OK, you’re right; it just seems unfair that you always have to be Protecto-Girl. Who protects you?"
"Trojans."
"Um, OK. Well. I’m sure they’re ribbed for your pleasure. And, hey," she asked, brightening, "how about we just act like those last two sentences were never spoken?"
"Gladly." They reached Tara’s dorm. Buffy reached out and hugged Tara. "It’s great to see you more, Tara. And hear you more, too," she added, grinning playfully.
She hugged Willow in turn. "Thank you," Willow said quietly.
"Hey—I don’t know from Sappho, but I think you’ve landed a keeper." She bounced down the steps, then turned at the bottom.
"Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!"
The three women paused, each mulling over the options that remained if Willow and Tara were to follow Buffy’s instructions.
"OK, forget that last part."
***
When they reached Tara’s room, they quietly but purposefully locked the door and slid the chain into its groove, and then checked to ensure that no windows offered a means of intrusion.
And then they undressed each other and eased gratefully into bed.
Their love-making that night was slower, and gentler, than the heated coupling from earlier that afternoon. It was as if they were gradually realizing that they had time; that this was real, and enduring. Hands stroked with greater leisure; lips lingered over each delightful spot; fingertips wandered and ambled and in general took their own sweet time.
At some point, much later in the night, Willow lowered herself to Tara’s mouth, tangling her fingers in the long blond hair and caressing the fine jaw with her thumbs. Her vision trailed down over her breasts and her belly and held Tara’s eyes with her own. Tara looked almost ethereal in the moonlit room, eyes half-closed in pleasure as her lips and tongue circled and stroked. Willow watched as a montage of old images suddenly whirled within her mind, pictures of all the creatures who drank of others without their consent; who overpowered and robbed and debased. But now, in this moment, Tara drank from her and Willow gave herself willingly. Tara, vulnerable and bare, had asked and Willow had opened herself to that gentle, immeasurably strong soul. And now she could feel herself pouring her essence into Tara like life-blood. It felt as if she were feeding Tara, who, in both her hunger and her naked offering, fed her in return. This was the thought, and these were the images, that crowded and tumbled through Willow’s mind as her back arched, and her fingers clutched more desperately, and she at last spilled everything that Tara had created within her back to its creator.
***
The next morning, they lay tangled up in each other, caressing away the last vestiges of embarrassment and self-consciousness. They enjoyed the leisurely discovery of each other’s particular marks and scars as if they had finally been given the last chapter of a mystery that they had instantly loved but been unable to complete until now.
"You know, for a demon fighter, you don’t have that many scars," Tara commented as she kissed her way across Willow’s back.
"Well, you know…I operate in more of a consultant capacity. I’m less involved in the daily production of dead creatures of the night."
"I dunno, Sweetie…Maybe some of Buffy’s healing powers have sort of rubbed off on you…Oh, here’s one," she exclaimed, lightly touching a small, uneven stretch of slightly raised flesh along Willow’s inner arm.
"Lemme see…Oh, yeah—that’s from a Noxoneus demon."
"I thought they were all noxious."
"No, a Noxoneus demon. Hate her…She’s really good at disguising herself, so you don’t know that you’re in for a world of hurt until she’s already ripped your heart out."
"Oh my God, Baby—and she got hold of you?" Tara looked aghast. "What kind of godless mutant enemies do you have to fight, anyway?"
Willow tried to look nonchalant, although she was secretly thrilled and flattered that Tara was making all with the doting, worried lover over her. She tried to think of other scars that might pique Tara’s attention.
"Oh, and this one? Up on my shoulder? That was when we went up against the assassins sent to kill Buffy and one of them slammed me into a wall."
Tara leaned forward and kissed each scar gently, then slowly traced a soft cheek over the wounded flesh.
"Anybody tries to rough you up now, they gotta go through me," she said defiantly.
"Uh, Tara—I thought you said you weren’t much for the fighting," Willow questioned hesitantly.
"Or with the swimming, as you thought at the time. No, I’m not, not typically. But if it’s somebody I love…" She shifted so that she could look Willow directly in the eye. "If it’s you, I will rip them limb from limb."
The image of Tara fighting, given her gentle nature, would have been amusing had Willow not heard her voice and seen the look in her eyes. Anyone who messes with our children will be so dead, Willow thought suddenly.
Our children…Huh…Yep, I can see it.
Aloud, she said, "What about you? What rough beasts have left their mark on you?"
Tara greeted the question with a half-smile, and then pulled her left leg out from under the cover and pointed to a dim lattice-work of lines that looked something like a number sign as rendered by a two-year-old on acid.
"This," she began solemnly, "is the work of a Schwinn demon. I remember it well…red, with glowing silver spokes…I mean, spikes."
"Ooh," Willow breathed, wide-eyed. "I’ve heard they’re almost impossible to kill."
"I tamed it, eventually," Tara said in a tone of nonchalant bravado.
"And what about this one?" Willow asked, looking at an imperfectly-healed zig-zag along Tara’s shin.
"Oh, yes…The Lady Schick demon. We wrestled fiercely…She attacked me in my bathtub."
"But you vanquished her?" Willow asked in her most deeply impressed voice.
"Only after she had stripped away what was rightfully mine…"
Pulling back the covers and peering closely at Tara’s upper thighs, Willow could barely detect three roughly horizontal lines on both.
"And what demon caused this wound, m’lady?"
Tara fell silent. Willow looked up at her questioningly.
"Dad."
Willow felt all of the air leave the room, leave her body. She swallowed thickly against the rage and sorrow that roared over and through her. She knew that Tara’s father had been what Tara had called "strict." She knew that Tara’s father had been what Willow called "a bastard."
"Oh Baby…" What could she possibly say to such a thing? Instead, she focused her attention on tracing the lines with infinite gentleness.
"Dad came from the ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child’ school of parental guidance," Tara said, trying to smile. "He caught me looking through Mom’s magick books one summer when I was nine. He said…" She took a deep breath, as if trying to remind herself that she was in bed with her lover, and not standing, shaking, before a hard, angry man who was starting to unbuckle his belt. "He told me he wouldn’t stand for such foolishness; that it all stopped right then. I was wearing shorts, and he just let me have it." Willow could feel a slight tremble in Tara’s body, but held herself still, wanting to let Tara get this out. To her surprise, the next thing that flashed across Tara’s face was a sad smile.
"As you can see, he left marks. Mom was at the grocery store, and I guess he must have realized that he’d gone too far." Willow refrained from asking how many lashes would have been just far enough. "He told me to change into pants and not tell Mom about it. God, I can still feel the denim scratching over the welts."
This time, Willow felt herself trembling.
"Anyway, I didn’t say anything to Mom when she got back. That night, I took my bath and tossed my jeans in the wash hamper. The next day was laundry day; I hadn’t realized how much I’d bled, but there was blood all over the upper legs. Mom came in and asked what had happened. I tried to make up some story about tripping over the barbed-wire fence out back, but she knew. And her face—I had never seen that look in her eyes before, Willow. I thought for a minute she was mad at me. But she hugged me and looked at me real closely and told me that nothing I could ever do meant that I deserved to be hurt, by a fence or anything else. And she hugged me again, and that was it. But oh, boy…I still don’t know exactly what she said to him, or what she did, but he looked like a man on Death Row for a long, long time. And around Donnie and me, she barely said two words to him for, goddess, it must have been months. Dad looked just miserable, and I was worried he’d make me pay for it later. But he never laid a hand on me again. Even after she died. I think he half-feared she would come back and haunt him if he ever hurt me again."
She fell silent, but ran her fingers through Willow’s hair and met her gaze with a look that no teenager should be familiar with. Willow became aware of the tears shimmering in her eyes, and lowered her head slowly until they splashed over her lashes and onto the lacerations. She moved her head slowly from one leg to the other, spilling her tears onto her beloved’s wounds. Finally, she kissed the soft flesh carefully and rested her head. If I ever see that bastard, I’ll speak on behalf of Tara’s mom. I’ll remind him what happens to people who hurt Tara.
After a few moments of silence, Tara tugged gently on Willow’s arms and pulled her up to lay close to her. "Thank you; for listening, and…and wanting to make it all better, but not thinking you could with some Hallmark card phrase."
"I would do anything for you, Tara. Do you know that?"
"Yes, sweet love, I do." They stretched out in each other’s arms and lay silently for a long time, each independently giving her thanks to the goddess for safety and for salvation.
***
Later in the afternoon, Tara sent Willow back to her room.
"Hey—trying to get rid of me? You got some leather dyke comin’ round to take you a spin on her motorcycle?" Oh, wow, Tara in a leather jacket, straddling a Harley. What’s my name again?
"Hardly, oh most wonderful Willow," Tara replied breezily. "I just know that all of your books are in your room and, more importantly, you should spend at least a couple of hours with Buffy. She’s being incredible, and we want to reinforce that good behavior. Besides, we don’t have to pack the U-Hauls just yet."
"Lesbian humor?"
"Don’t worry, you’ll get the manual and the video-tape next week."
The kiss at the door was a slow, delighted one, accompanied by a promise to see each other in a few hours.
Back in her room, Willow’s first action was to sweep Buffy into her arms. "This is National ‘Love Buffy Summers’ Day," she announced. "Except that it’s really more of a Sunnydale thing."
"I’m deeply honored," Buffy replied as she returned the hug, "but I would have thought that this would be ‘Love Tara Maclay’ Day."
"Oh, every day is ‘Love Tara Maclay’ Day," Willow assured her. "But you share top billing on this glorious Sunday afternoon."
"This calls for mochas," Buffy announced, grabbing her windbreaker and propelling Willow out the door.
"Does anything notcall for mochas?" Willow inquired half an hour later, as they sipped the frothy goodness and rejoiced in the power of love.
"Hmm…Principal Snyder didn’t call for mochas. He called for oil-of-peppermint enemas."
"Ouch with the ouchiful ouchiness," Willow grimaced. "He also called for being eaten by the former Mayor who underwent a metamorphosis that was way out of Kafka’s league."
"Yeah…too bad he couldn’t have had that enema first."
"So, you like Tara, right? And I know that’s kind of a rhetorical question; I mean, she’s my girlfriend and I’m pretty obviously a smitten kitten here, so what are you gonna say—‘Willow, I think Tara’s a Gorgon’? But I really do wanna know what you think, ’cause you’re my best friend and I think I’ll just take a sip of my mocha now."
"Remember back in junior high, when you last drew a breath?" Buffy smiled at her affectionately and went on. "Here’s the scoop, Will: I don’t know Tara that much, but everything I know about her so far makes me want to know her better. And yeah, part of that is her being your girlfriend so of course I want to get to know her because she’s so important to you. But she’s also…She’s deep, Will; you only have to be around her for a little bit before you realize that. I mean, we’re all so damn verbose and so eager to jump in and show how clever we are, but I have this sneaky feeling Tara may be the sharpest one of us all; especially about people, I think, even though she’s so shy." She paused thoughtfully. "I feel like there are all these hidden rooms to her, and I’m willing to bet they’re pretty great rooms."
Willow stared at her. "Wow, Buffy…Are you in love with Tara, too?"
"Uh, no. I just take very close notice of the people my best friend falls in love with. And I like what I see here."
"Oh God, Buffy…If you only knew how much that meant to me. I mean, I know people will accept Tara; it’s just…I don’t know, that word has such a tricky little twist to it."
"And now I must ask for definitions."
"Well, imagine that you were talking about Riley; and you were telling me all about how wonderful he was, and how he made you feel, and all the hopes you felt just by saying his name out loud, and I looked at you and said, ‘Well, I accept that.’ I mean, it doesn’t exactly inspire you to entrust me with every detail, does it?"
"No, it doesn’t," Buffy replied slowly. "I get your point. I mean, I remember thinking when I was with Angel that it sure would be nice to think that someone was actually happy for me, not just tolerating him for my sake. And I remember that you were the one who did that; the one who felt happy for me. Even though you were worried about what might happen, because of our, um, age difference, it was never about judging him. That meant…it meant everything to me, Willow."
And then they looked at each other and exchanged the smiles of two people who have seen the very best and worst in each other and wouldn’t exchange a minute of any of it for a million dollars. That is, they exchanged the smiles of best friends.
Shortly after they returned to their dorm room, Willow found her eyes inevitably wandering to her watch or to the Wonder Woman clock on the wall. Could she call yet? A phone call would be fine, certainly. Right? Maybe she should wait another half-hour. But what was so special about a half-hour? It was just thirty minutes. No different, really, from twenty-nine minutes or twenty-eight minutes or—hey—thirteen minutes, for that matter.
"For kd lang’s sake, Will, call the girl." Willow looked up to see Buffy looking at her with amusement.
"Just to say hello, you know? I mean, a girl’s gotta do what a girl wants to do…or something like that." Grinning not unlike a Cheshire cat, she picked up the phone and punched in the numbers she’d memorized so quickly.
After a few seconds, she got Tara’s answering machine. Conscious of Buffy standing nearby—and ready to lampoon—she garbled, "Uh, hey Baby. It’s me. Um, Willow. Does anybody else call you ‘Baby’? I hope not; I mean, I hope that doesn’t sound all Jealous-Girl or anything, but—OK, the tape’s gonna run out. Um, I just called to say that…I love you."
She hung up and sighed with relief to see Buffy hanging clothes in the closet. Looking more closely, however, she saw the muscular shoulders bouncing up and down in silent, staccato laughter.
"OK, I know. I got it something awful."
Buffy turned to face her, eyes sparkling. "No, Will; you got it something good."
Twenty minutes later, Willow tried her again. This time, the message was shorter: "Hey Tara; it’s me, your love-struck girlfriend again. Um, give me a call when you get in, OK?"
She frowned slightly as she hung up the phone. "She didn’t say anything about going out. We ate brunch in her commons. I wonder where she is?"
"Ah, yes…the infamous ‘If I know not where my beloved is, surely the world stops spinning’ phase of love."
Willow glared at her. "It certainly doesn’t stop spinning. It just gets a little cranky."
"I hear ya…I’m going to get a bagel and juce; I’ll be right back."
Another thirty minutes passed; still Tara hadn’t phoned. And gradually, across the span of that time, the humor and the teasing ebbed away, like the figures in those hidden perception puzzles, until her fear stood out in bold relief. Then she turned to Buffy and said, "I think I should go over there. It’s been dark for almost an hour. This just feels…"
Buffy looked at her quietly. "You’re really worried?"
"Yeah. And…yeah."
"Then I’m coming too. That way I can give Tara another piece of dirt about you, OK?" But the laughter was muted as they headed out their door.
Moments later they were climbing the steps to Tara’s room. They knocked and waited anxiously at the door. Neither tried to make any jokes.
When Tara didn’t answer, Buffy tried the door. It opened easily. She walked in, Willow on her heels. Tara wasn’t there.
What was there was an overturned waste-basket, and books and papers lying in the floor, and a can of soda spilled on the rug.
But Tara…Tara wasn’t there. And Willow was aware of this, above all else, as she felt her legs give way and she slid to the floor.
TO BE CONTINUED
although coming home to this more than made up for it. Apart from W/T I also love the way you write the scoobies X and A especially. This may be stating the obvious but you are so much better at writing these characters than m.e. ever were or could be. The whole W/T love scene was so amazing I don't think in my tired state that I could really praise it eloquently enough to do it justice. 
Where's Tara?! 
at: 11/10/02 7:06:39 pm
perfectly with Willow saying, ("She's really good at disguising herself, so you don't know that you're in a world of hurt until she's already ripped your heart out."). Really I think you captured the moment so well with the humor (ie Tara's "Schwinn Demon"), and with the moment becoming "serious" (ie Tara recalling the memories of the scars caused by the "human monster"/her father), the scene became so poignant. And I think what spoke so well to how they "complete each other"/their connection was Tara saying, ("Thank you; for listening, and... and wanting to make it all better, but not thinking you could with some Hallmark card phrase.").
at: 11/8/02 11:00:18 pm
Sleek
Cliffhanger!! Arrgh!!!!! I can't remember if I've actually posted feedback for this fic or not. Sorry if it's a not. This story is so wonderful on so many levels. I've said it a thousand times and I'll probably say it another thousand times on this board, but I love well written Anya, and you just hit it perfectly! All the dialogue is just so great! Funny, emotional, and I really think you got to the best part of Willow and Buffy's friendship with this last update. Thanks so much for sharing this.