She had brown hair.

Oz looked over at his date as he drove through the sleepy streets of Sunnydale. She was chattering animatedly about the movie they'd just seen over at the local theater. Apparently, she'd liked it.

"Oh, and wasn't it just so sweet how he went to her house and they were dancing by her pool? That was so cute!" Her voice was soft and remind him of windy spring days, but not of Willow. And that was important. She looked over at him, mid-sentence, and blushed when she realized that he hadn't spoken a word the entire trip back to her house. "Oh, gee, I'm sorry, Oz, I've been rambling on and on, I haven't even given you a chance to get a word in edge-wise."

He smiled softly. "It's okay. I'm glad you liked the movie."

She grinned brightly, her brown eyes lighting up. "I did. I really did. Did you?"

Actually, he hadn't. He'd thought it was sort-of pointless, and he'd spent most of the movie wondering whether or not the lead actor had painted his teeth that white, or if they were just like that naturally. "It was alright."

The smile never disapeered off her face, even as he drove his van into her driveway and shut it off. "Thanks for the movie and everything, Oz. I had a lot of fun."

Had it been fun? He wasn't really sure yet. He just smiled at her. "We'll have to do it again sometime." Did that come out of his mouth?

Her eyes glittered hopefully. "I was hoping you'd say that." She touched his hand softly. "Walk me to the door?"

He obliged, and found himself, a few moments later, standing just inches away from her. "So, this is probably one of the most awkward parts of the mating ritual, wouldn't you say?" She exhaled, nervously, her fingers brushing against his innocently. He had to smile in agreement.

"Yeah." Taking initiative, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers gently. The kiss lasted for a few long moments. Then they broke apart. She was smiling.

"I'll see you in school on Monday?" She asked, hopefully. He nodded. "Goodnight, Oz."

He smiled in return. "Goodnight, Nicole."

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

It was around eleven when he got home. His parents were out. As usual. But it didn't matter anyway because he never made much noise. Unless you counted that 'racket' he made with his guitar.

He headed into the kitchen and got some juice, and then began the oh-so-strenuous journey up to his room. He was tired, and his head hurt from all of the thoughts that had been plauging him for the past few hours.

In his room, he kicked off his shoes and then sunk onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling, and tried to piece together everything that was going on, inside his head and out.

He'd just been on a date. With someone who wasn't Willow. With someone who wasn't even remotely Willow, except for that babbling thing, which he had to admit was cute.

Nicole was nice. A few weeks after he and Willow had broken up, she'd passed him a note in English saying 'Hey, I like you, and you're single, and I'm single.' and she'd left her phone number.

That had been three months ago. But the other day, he'd found her number, and something inside of him had possessed him to call her. And that was why he'd found himself sitting through a really boring movie, and thinking about teeth just awhile ago.

But crappy movies aside... if he thought about it, he *did* like Nicole. She was nice. And she was smart. And, most importantly, she was unlike most of the girls at Sunnydale High.

But she wasn't Willow. And she never would be.

Oz sighed, mentally chastising himself, an all too familiar lecture churning through his head. He needed to move on, and he knew that. That's why he was trying the dating thing.

Lately, he'd been doing very well. He had gotten on with his life. It wasn't like he sat in his room and stared at old pictures of her everyday, or smelled his clothes to see if he could still smell her shampoo somewhere on it. No. He lived his life.

But late at night when he closed his eyes, he still saw her smiling brilliantly at him. And that smile that had once mended all of his pain would make everything that hurt about his life now come crashing down on him.

It was getting easier. To not think about her. To see her and not be stunned by the emotions she evoked in him. He knew that he was moving on, even if he was doing it slowly.

They were aquaintences. That was what hurt the most. As much as he didn't want to be around her, as much as it made the pain worse, he didn't back down on his obligations as a slayerette. He still came around if there was a big scary demon that needed researching, and he still let the gang borrow his van if they needed to go off and save the world.

But when he went to the library to lock himself up during the full moon, she wasn't there to kiss him goodnight, and she wasn't there to kiss him good morning.

Oz shook his head, forcing the thoughts out. Instead, he focused on Nicole. Her lips had been soft, and had tasted like cherry lip balm. [ And Willow was strawberry. ] He really liked that she was a fan of David Bowie [ Willow and I must have watched "Labyrinth" a hundred times. ] She was sweet and she smelled nice, and he could definitely see himself falling for her if they pursued a relationship.

But he couldn't help remembering that one look at Willow had told him that they were meant for eachother and he wouldn't be satisfied with anyone else.

Love wasn't fair, though. And that was the answer to all of his questions. Why he wasn't with Willow, why he couldn't let himself think about kissing her anymore, why it hurt to look at a box of animal crackers now.

But it didn't give the answer to why Willow was knocking on his window at that moment.

Their eyes locked, and Oz stared at her for a moment that passed through a few eternities, before his senses caught up with him. And he realized that if she was sitting outside his window, it meant she probably wanted to come in.

Not hesitating, his body going through the motions and the rest of him coming along for the ride, he stood up, and walked to the window. Unlocking it, he slid it open, and she tentatively held her hand out for him to help her in. He did, and when her hand touched his, his mind reminded him of the dozens of times she'd crawled in through that window during the summer. The dozens of times they'd layed on his bed after patrolling and talked and kissed and how he'd let himself fall in love with her the way he had.

Once she was in, she straightened herself up, brushing her hair out of her face. He closed the window, and turned to face her. Now that she was in, he was filled with questions. Why was she here? Why had he let her in when they hadn't said more than four full sentences to eachother in three months?

They were silent for a long time. Willow would barely look at him. Her eyes were filled with something like hurt, and humility, and pain and lots and lots of needing. His feelings conflicted, half of him wanting to hug her and soothe her, the other half wanting to smack that half, and turn her away so he could keep getting on with his life.

He let her stay. But he waited for her to speak. Finally, the tension in the air was so unbearable that she couldn't stand it anymore. Her eyes met his and she took in a silent breath. "How are you?"

She sounded so insecure. So unlike the Willow he knew. He nodded softly. "I'm okay. How are you?"

She forced a small smile. "I, uh... well you're probably wondering what I was doing outside of your window at midnight."

"I was kind-of wondering what you were doing in my bedroom, too." He replied. She gazed at the floor, picking at the sleeves of her sweater anxiously.

"I wanted to see how you were." She murmered.

"That was the small-talk." He said, sitting down on his bed. He had a feeling she was going to do something that would require more leg support than he had in him at that moment.

She was silent again. Standing in the middle of the room. He could almost read her mind. She was afraid to move, afraid to touch anything, for fear of breaking this tentative moment between them.

"You can sit down." He finally told her. She chanced a gaze at him, but opted for leaning against his dresser.

"So what's new?" She asked. She was obviously stalling, trying to draw upon some inner courage to get to her point. He went along.

"Not much. You?"

She gazed at him again, obviously contemplating what she was about to say. "Xander and I broke up."

Oz stared at her, numbly, letting the words sink in. Was that why she was here? And if so... still why? So many reasons she could be telling him this. None of them really added up. "I'm..." No, he wasn't sorry, and he wasn't going to lie. "Why?"

She shrugged. "It didn't work out." The words dripped off her tongue like icicles.

If he'd been five he would have revelled in chanting, 'I told you so.' But he wasn't. And he didn't.

"Oz, I..." She trailed off, exhaling. "Um, I just... wanted to..." She searched for her words, and he began to see the pieces fall together. "I wanted to talk to you."

He nodded. His heart was pounding. Because she hadn't come here to see how he was doing, she had come here to ask for another chance. And that made the half of him that wanted her in his arms ecstatically happy. It made the other half furious, though. A tingly kind of anger. They meshed into one big, confused ball in the pit of his stomach. "I went on a date tonight."

Her eyes widened with shock and, dare he say it, hurt. "Wha-?" She stammered, hugging herself slightly. "I mean, um.... with who?!"

"Nicole Kiya." He replied, keeping his voice even. He didn't know if this was some kind of sick pay-back that his heart was doling out to her, or if it was an apology for her for daring to move on, especially when she was trying to get him back.

"Nicole Kiya?!" She exclaimed, not even attempting to hide her hurt. "She's..." The hacker trailed off softly. "She's in my french class."

Oz nodded softly. "Are you okay?" He couldn't help asking.

"What, oh... uh, yeah." She tried to shrug it off, and failed horribly. "You know, just... kind-of a shocker. She's so... I don't know. Chattery."

"I meant with Xander." He said softly.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. "Oh, um... well, I..." She stuttered for a few more seconds, torn between replying honestly and bending the truth to spare him the details. "It's weird, you know. It was what I wanted for so, so long that I forgot why I wanted it in the first place."

Oz just nodded, patiently. Why was he listening to this?

"I just wanted him to love me. To look at me like he looked at other girls... and now... well, he did. I was an object of his affection." She paused. "An."

Oz looked up at her, suddenly, realization hitting him. He'd finally noticed her, but he hadn't come around, hadn't stopped looking at other girls.

"So, anyway..." She sighed, shakily. "That's over. Big mistake. I got it. I guess I came to tell you that you were right."

He flinched, slightly. "Willow." Knowing she was suffering, knowing she was hurt didn't give him any satisfaction, even if he had been right.

"Oz, I..." Tears filled her eyes. "I really screwed up. I was thinking with the same part of my brain that had been making really *stupid* decisions for me my whole life... and I lost a friend, and I lost you." She stepped a bit closer to him, wanting his comfort, and he couldn't help it. God help him, he wanted to be stronger than he was, but he pulled her into his arms and let her cry there for several minutes. When she had calmed, slightly, she looked at him. "I love you." She murmered, almost ashamed.

A part of him died there. Standing with her in his arms again like he'd wanted since the day in the student lounge. Having her tell him she had screwed up, she loved him, she wanted him. It was everything he'd wanted, and tried *not* to want for the past few months.

But as much as he loved her, he couldn't do it. "Willow..." He took a step back, and she lept forward, taking his hands in hers.

"I know it's stupid, Oz... I know I don't deserve another chance with you, I know..." She trailed off, more tears streaming down her cheeks. "But this... being with Xander, being away from you... it made me realize what I want." She touched his cheek. "It's you. I promise."

Oz willed himself not to respond to her touch. He couldn't do this anymore. "This is hard for me." He finally, replied, after swallowing.

"I know," She said, softly, "It's hard for me too."

"No, I don't think you understand." He looked at her. "This is so hard for me, Willow. You can't know what I'm feeling right now." He sat back down. "I love you." He locked eyes with her, as if to emphasize. "But I can't trust you. This. I can't know that you aren't on rebound. I can't know that you won't want him when he finally grows up and settles on one person."

She stared at him, unbelieving. "Oz..."

"I moved on." He said, using up all of his strength to say it while looking her in the eye. Her mouth went slack as she slowly stepped back, hugging herself again.

"Oh." She murmered, softly. She turned around, and headed for his window. Without saying a word, she climbed out. He stood, and watched her as she climbed down the tree outside his window, and sprinted down the street, trying to supress her sobs, which echoed throughout the otherwise silent neighborhood. He watched her go, and thought. Had he moved on? Had he really?

"I tried."

---

"I love the way you love, but I hate the way I'm supposed to love you back."

The End.
just don't hit me *too* hard~make your own fun