Just one of those days

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox and The WB.  No copyright infringment is intended.

It's just been one of those days today. You probably think you know the kind of day I'm talking about, right? Well you don't. I'm not talking about the kind of day where the dog shits on the rug. I'm not talking about the kind of day where the dog dies. Hell, I'm not even talking about the kind of day where you accidentally run over the dog on the way to work. I'm talking about the kind of day where you accidentally torture the dog to death with hot irons and jagged glass.

Although I suppose it'd be hard to do that accidentally. And I don't have a dog. Work with me here, I'm trying to set the mood.

So. One of those days today. It actually started out pretty good. Those days always do. False sense of security, lulling, all that fun stuff. Normally I'm too smart for 'em. I never trust the good days anymore, not ever. But this one slipped in under my radar. It started out okay, and I figured it would stay that way.

Because of Willow. Or rather, because of no Willow. I didn't have to see her today, so I felt pretty good. Which has to be the single most horrible thought that's ever gone through my head, but it just hurts so damn much. Anya's gone, Tara's gone, and we're not together. What's up with that?

I understand her reasons. I do. She's scared. First Oz left, then Tara left, and if you want to dig deep enough you can probably give me a role in both of those. Dig not that deep at all, maybe. And lord knows Willow's the reason I lost Cordy and Anya. But through it all we've had each other. She's the best friend I've ever had. She's the best friend anyone's ever had. She says the same about me, and you'd better believe knowing that's gotten me through some very bad times, nights where I didn't see any reason to go on living. No reason except Willow anyways. She's my rock, my center. She's my Willow.

But I want more. I want everything. Don't get me wrong, being Willow's friend is the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. But the two of us together would be even more amazing. I'm a greedy bastard. I want more. I want to fall asleep holding her to me and wake up next to her every morning. I want to be able to touch her and hold her and kiss her and tell her I love her, just because I feel like it. Just because I love her. Just because she's Willow. I want more.

So does she. That's the part that rips my heart out every single day. She wants more too, but she's afraid of it. She's afraid that if we try for more we'll mess it up somehow and end up not even friends. That's almost happened a few times, and let me tell you if it ever happens for real I for one won't survive. So I can understand why she's afraid.

But it still pisses me off. Because we wouldn't mess it up, dammit. It's too important. I love Willow. That's the easiest thing in the world, no way could I ever mess that up. Loving her is easier than breathing, and if I had to choose between the two I'd go for a few more oxygen-starved minutes of loving her before I die. Because if I can't love Willow I might as well be dead. And if she doesn't love me I'd rather be dead.

But she does love me, so I want to live. But it hurts. It hurts so much that she doesn't trust our love enough to make us both the happiest people who ever lived. She doesn't trust herself enough, and that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Willow couldn't mess us up if she tried, but she doesn't believe that.

So it hurts. Every day it hurts a little more. And when I see Willow and have to be just her friend it's like my soul is being torn from my body, over and over again.

Can you believe that? Being Willow's friend hurts. That's just not the way the world's supposed to work. So I actually feel better when I know I won't be seeing her. It gives me a day with a little less pain, a day where I can daydream about her changing her mind without having to look into her eyes and realize it's just a dream. When I don't see her I can make myself believe things will get better. But they never do. And I'm left not wanting to see the woman I love, the woman who is the most important thing in my world. It hurts so much.

In some ways I think Buffy's getting the worst of it. She's got me and Will crying on her shoulder just about every day. I cry because I can't have Willow, Willow cries because she can't let herself have me. Buffy cries for the both of us. She thinks I don't know that but I do. Buffy's like that, when someone she loves is hurting it's worse than when she's in pain herself.

Buffy's why today started out good, actually. We had breakfast this morning. She came over and I made us bacon and eggs and homefries while she took care of the toast. She didn't even burn it this time, which I figured had to be a good omen. Slayer yes, chef no, that's our Buffy. And we had a nice, normal breakfast. We didn't talk about Willow at all. I should say we didn't talk about me and Willow at all. It's impossible for us to have a conversation without bringing her up in some form. Just doesn't happen. But everything we talked about was good. Dumb stuff. The way my eggs looked like Richard Nixon. The emergency surgery she and Will had to perform on Mr. Gordo last night after he got caught on a nail. Plotting to take over Giles' kitchen to bake cookies this weekend. The dumb pick-up lines I heard working at Sol's bar last night. Dumb stuff, but the good stuff. The stuff friendship is made of. It was wonderful.

So I got to thinking the rest of the day would be good too. And it stayed good for awhile, it really did. I put on my favorite shirt and went to work at the gallery. Julio was showing everyone pictures of his new daughter Janet. Linda finally shot the kid out, thank God, only two weeks overdue. Mrs. Summ... I mean Joyce broke out some of the good champagne she keeps in the back for the annoying East Coast customers. I only had a few sips though, so that's not the reason I dropped the display case. One of the annoying West Coast customers would be the reason. She came out of nowhere and ran right into me. Two guys carrying a 200 pound glass case, how hard can that be to avoid, am I right? But no, she knocks into me, I drop the case, glass goes flying everywhere and then she starts screaming at me, saying I could've put her eye out. Bob looked like he wanted to cut her damn tongue out, and there were more than a few shards of glass that would've done the job fine. Joyce came over and defused the whole mess before bloodshed ensued, which I suppose was for the best.

Joyce was good about it, of course. She knew it wasn't my fault, but I still felt like a jerk. It wasn't one of those new sculptures she got in, thank God, but those cases cost money too. Like she kept saying, it's all tax deductible. But it put a cloud over the morning, y'know?

Not the end of the world though. Unfortunately, not the end of my day either.

The bus to campus was packed. It always is but the AC was on the fritz and the windows were locked shut. It was like a sauna in there. And of course it was running late, so I barely had time to grab a burger before class. Spilled ketchup on my pants too. Not the shirt, thank God.

Class was boring. I've gotten to the point where I can enjoy reading, and I've even gotten to the point where I can enjoy reading stuff that's not in what I would call English. I think Shakespeare's pretty cool, and Gilgamesh and the Odyssey are two of my favorite stories now. But Professor Drankin could make anything boring, and lord knows she doesn't have to work too hard with the crap she's got us reading. Diaries from the middle ages. I didn't know people even kept diaries back then. The normal people didn't, of course, most of them couldn't read or write. Which is a shame, because I think it'd be interesting to read a day to day account of life as a farmer or something like that way back when. But no, we get diaries and journals from priests and nobles and damn are they boring. No interest at all.

So I spent an agonizing afternoon listening to Drankin drone on and on. Also on. And occasionally on. I spent the whole time thinking about Willow, of course. She's the reason I'm taking classes now. Well, not the only reason. Buffy and Joyce and Giles and even Mom have all been working on me for awhile to take at least a few classes, but it was Willow who finally convinced me. And I know she was right. I like the feeling that I'm doing something, going forward, even if I have to sit through Drankin's lecture to get there.

So class wasn't too bad by itself, I guess. But after spending three hours brooding about Willow on top of everything else that happened today I wasn't in the best of moods when I finally got out. Actually, I was in no mood at all. I was numb, detached, not all there. It was like there was a wall of fog around me, keeping everything away from me so I didn't have to deal with it. Some of it was just the fact that I didn't get much sleep last night, some of it was my brain shutting down in self-defense to escape Drankin's lecture, but most of it was me getting away from the pain.

I do that a lot these days. Not just these days. It's always been my first instinct when something hurts me real bad, just shut down and don't feel anything. But I never used to let myself do it that often. It always scared Will to see me like that, so when I felt it coming on I'd go to see her and she'd make it all better. When I let myself get lost in the fog I don't feel the pain, but when I'm with Will the pain doesn't exist, so it's always been an easy choice. Until now. Now the hurt is because of Will, so I can't go to her to make it go away. So I have to try to separate myself from the pain. And since the pain is all I am these days, I have to go pretty far. I have to stop being myself, stop being human, stop feeling anything. And that's what I did.

So I was feeling nice and numb as I walked across campus. I figured I'd go to the library and study some and then go to work at Sol's. I study pretty well when I'm numb like that. No distractions, I guess, I can concentrate better and notice things I might not otherwise.

I didn't notice the girl though, not until she was right up next to me. I noticed when she stopped right in front of me. I noticed the pissed-off look on her face. And I noticed the right hook she blasted into my nose.

I didn't notice fast enough to duck, of course. God forbid. My head snapped back as I heard my nose crunch and the only thought that went through my brain was "Huh. That's what a broken nose sounds like, I guess." I didn't even feel any pain. Nice and numb. I cocked my head a bit to get a better look at the girl, brought both eyes to bear on her. Until her next punch took me in the left eye, anyways. Not quite dead center though. I felt her ring tear my cheek, and a second later tasted the blood streaming down my face, from my nose and my cheek both.

And still I just looked at her. It finally dawned on me through the fog that I should probably do something to stop her. I wasn't sure why, but I figured what the heck. So when she let loose a third punch I caught her fist in my hand and just held it between us while I looked at her some more.

She was a good sized girl. Athletic looking, maybe eighteen. She had a Crew sweatshirt on. She looked like she was on Crew. She also looked like she wanted very badly to hurt me even more, which I didn't understand. I was certain I'd never met her before. But she was struggling to get her fist back so she could hit me again, and when she gave up on that and let fly with a left I caught that fist too, though I still wasn't sure why. I guess it seemed like the thing to do. If I'd been thinking straight I'd have known what was coming next, but I wasn't thinking straight so her knee hit dead center and then for a while I wasn't thinking at all.

Nice and numb only goes so far. It's been awhile since I've taken one where I live, but it felt pretty much the same as I remembered. Which is to say not good. But it was just pain so I straightened up after a few seconds. Very slowly, and very carefully I straightened up. I looked at her out of my good eye and was distantly pleased to realize my face still didn't hurt. The fog wasn't totally gone.

She'd backed off a bit, and she looked like she wasn't going to come at me again right away. We'd gathered a pretty good-sized crowd of gawkers, maybe that's what calmed her down a bit, I don't know. I was still pretty numb all over, with a couple of glaring exceptions, so I just said the first thing that came to mind.

"Do I know you?"

Her eyes flashed fire. "How would you know? You don't bother to remember once you're done, do you, you son of a bitch!" It wasn't a question so I didn't answer her. Since I had no idea what she was talking about, that was probably a wise enough move. She had already started yelling again anyways. "How about Stacy Hibbert? Do you think you'd recognize her?!"

I'd never heard the name before so I shook my head. "Probably not. Should I?" Despite myself, I was getting interested.

Not the right thing to say I guess. She came at me again, but this time I didn't give her any free shots. Within a few seconds I had both her fists trapped again and had proved to her that I could block her knee when I knew it was coming. I let go of her and stepped back a few paces. Limped back a few paces. My nose and cheek were starting to hurt now, and as any guy will tell you the old homestead doesn't stop hurting for quite a while.

I was losing the fog, but so far it was just the physical pain that was getting through. I could handle that easily enough, so I still wasn't particularly angry or upset. I just wanted to know what was going on. So I asked her.

"Why are you doing this?" Part of me recoiled at the lifeless tone of my voice, part of me cheered. But most of me was still in the fog and just didn't care. Just the way I wanted it.

But not the way she wanted it, apparently. She threw me a look full of hatred and contempt. "You just had to have her, didn't you? You couldn't let her be, let her meet someone who cared about her. No, you had to fuck her and forget about her, like you do to everyone naïve enough to fall for your act." She wasn't yelling, exactly, but she wasn't whispering either and the crowd gathered around us started looking at me like I was something particularly nasty they'd found on the bottom of their shoe.

Which made sense to me. Whoever she was yelling at was the scum of the earth, I was more than willing to believe that. The problem was I wasn't the guy she wanted to be yelling at. Or hitting, for that matter. I had lost enough of the fog to care about that little fact, but still not enough to be angry. So I just stood there looking at her for a few seconds

And then it hit me. Divine inspiration maybe, or maybe all the iron in the blood I could still taste streaming down my face had something to do with it. Or maybe I knew because it was the only thing that could make my day even worse.

"This is a Parker thing, isn't it? You think I'm Parker Abrams." I was starting to get angry. A vicious beating is one thing, I don't take those personally anymore. But being mistaken for that rat-bastard? That hurt.

She didn't believe me, that was easy enough to see. She started to say something, but I held up my hand to stop her and pulled out my wallet. Flipping it open, I took out my license and held it out to her.

She looked at my hand like it was a poisonous snake. Or like it was Parker's hand, maybe that's a better comparison. After a few seconds she reached her hand out slowly and took the license from my fingers. She gave me a glare before turning her eyes to read it. After a second, her face went white and her eyes shot back to mine.

"This is fake...?" It wasn't a question so much as a plea. I snorted a laugh then regretted it as my nose flared up in pain. Wincing a bit, I shook my head.

"No fake. Alexander Harris, that's me. My friends call me..." I thought about what I was saying for a second. "Alexander, that'll work fine for us."

Her hand slowly came up to cover her mouth as her face went even paler and her eyes widened. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I thought..." She waved her hand in the air, trying to find the words. "I thought you were him."

"Yeah." My voice was more spiteful than I expected. "I figured that part out." I closed my eyes at the expression on her face. She looked like I'd just kicked her puppy. Of course, I looked like she'd just kicked my ass, but that was different.

But it wasn't different, not really. And I wanted to lay into her, let her know how I felt, I really did. But I couldn't. If I did, I wouldn't stop at yelling at her for what she'd done. I'd take all my pain out on her, all the pain from Willow and everything else. And believe me, part of me wanted to do just that. It would have felt so good to let it all come boiling out. But she didn't deserve that. No one deserved that.

I sighed. "Look, let's just call it even, okay? No harm, no foul, right?" I held my hand out. "Can I get my license back?"

She handed it back to me and I put it away without thinking. I was about to turn away when she grabbed my arm. I tensed a bit and turned back to her quickly. I didn't really expect her to hit me again, but my body apparently did. I'll say one thing about helping the Slayer, it trains the old reflexes. She fell back and put her hands up to show she wasn't going to do anything.

I just looked at her until she spoke. "I'm really, really sorry." I nodded to let her know I believed her, and she went on. "There's gotta be something I can do. Please?" I started to shake my head and she cut me off. "At least let me replace your shirt, okay?"

"My shirt?" I hadn't even thought about it. I looked down at myself and of course my shirt was covered in blood from my face. Ruined.

I felt like I'd been kicked in the heart by a mule. I even forgot about Willow for a second there. It was just a shirt, sure, but at the same time it wasn't.

"My mother gave me this shirt. It wasn't my birthday or anything, she just thought it would look good on me." I didn't realize I was speaking out loud at first, and when I did I stopped talking immediately. But the damage was done, to me and to her.

"Oh God, I'm sorry!" She was close to crying. I guess it was the straw that broke the camel's back or something. For me too. I just wanted to get away, but I knew I had to fix things with her first.

I walked up to her and put my hands on her shoulders. After a second she looked up at me. "Okay, here's the deal. It's okay. I'll be okay, I promise. I've taken worse than this. You don't have to worry. Why don't you go be with Stacy? She could probably use a friend right now. Tell her it gets better. I know that for a fact."

She nodded dumbly and I smiled as best I could and turned away. The crowd parted for me and I ignored their stares as I pushed through. I headed for the pay phones to put what I sincerely hoped would be the final cap on my lousy day.

I hate talking to Sol. That's why I like the shifts I've got at the bar, he's never in so I don't have to see him. But I knew it was going to take too long to get my nose looked at, so I had to call him at home and let him know I wouldn't be able to make it in.

The conversation went about as well as I expected it to.

"Whaddaya mean you can't make it?" Sol's not the brightest bulb on the tree, but that was dense even for him.

"Sol, I have a broken nose. I have to get it set and you know how long the wait is at the emergency room."

He snorted. "This is another dumb-ass excuse to go party, isn't it?" Okay, I admit that the last time I called in my excuse wasn't the best. A sick aunt, what's that about? But I was in a hurry to go help Buffy kill some demons, so I think I can be excused a temporary lack of imagination.

I sighed. "No Sol, my nose is actually broken. I could bring a doctor's note if you want."

He barked a laugh. "Don't bother. You're fired." Then he hung up.

I just stared at the silent receiver for a while, trying to catch up with everything that had happened today. Not being able to work at Sol's was pretty much the least of my troubles, but on top of everything else it was just too much. My face was throbbing in pain, my clothes were covered in blood, I'd been fired from a job I hated, the woman I loved refused to love me back, and the recorded operator's voice was yammering at me to hang up the phone. There's a gold record country title if ever I heard one.

I slipped the receiver back into the cradle with a sigh. I stood there for a few seconds, collecting my thoughts and trying to ignore the looks I was getting from everyone around me. I was trying to decide if I should actually go to the hospital and risk being killed in some bizarre tongue depressor accident that would never happen any day but today or just go home and forget about it.

I finally decided I should go to the hospital. I'm not the best looking guy around, and I figured an unset broken nose wouldn't improve my looks any. And besides, I was sort of interested in finding out exactly how one could be killed with a tongue depressor. As I turned to walk to the hospital, I consoled myself with the thought that at least my day couldn't get any worse.

"Xander?! Oh my God, are you okay?!"

It was Willow, of course. Looking beautiful and concerned and untouchable. She rushed up to me and waved her hands in the air indecisively, wanting to touch me and see how badly I was injured but not wanting to hurt me even more. Finally she put her hand to my face very gingerly, obviously ready to pull back if it hurt.

It didn't hurt. It never hurts when I'm with Willow. Except my heart, of course. I smiled at her as my soul whimpered in agony yet again.

"Hey Will. Anything new and exciting in your life?"

She looked at me like I was deranged, which I suppose makes sense given the number of concussions Giles and I seem to go through. She wanted to ask what had happened, that much was clear, but the curiousity I saw in her eyes was put away as her resolve face slipped firmly into place.

"We have to get you to the hospital." Her tone of voice made it clear she would brook no arguments.

I just nodded. "That's where I was headed. Shall we?" I held my hand out to her, then immediately cursed myself. We haven't really touched much lately, too much weirdness between us. I miss it, believe me, and I was really hoping she'd take my hand. Even though I knew she wouldn't.

But she did. Without hesitating at all, she took my hand in hers and led me down the path to the edge of campus. As we walked together I tried to sort out my feelings. I was with Willow, so I felt wonderful. I was with Willow, so I felt horrible. Finally I gave up and just walked with her. But I made a vow that never again would I tell myself things couldn't possibly get worse.

We walked along in silence for a little bit. Will was probably waiting for me to explain what had happened, but I didn't say anything. The fog was coming back and I didn't even try to fight it, I just let it consume me. It was the only way I could stand to be so close to her, to hold her hand, without telling her how I felt. She didn't want to hear how I felt, she knew how I felt. Telling her again would only upset her. So I didn't say anything.

Finally she slowed down a bit and looked at me. "What happened, Xander? Who did this to you?"

I stopped walking and turned to face her. "Some Crew girl thought I was Parker. Apparently he did his number on a friend of hers. She wasn't happy." My voice was dead again.

Hers wasn't. Neither were her eyes. They flashed anger to match her tone as she said, "What?! Who was it?" I could tell she wanted to track the girl down and give her a piece of her mind. Or maybe kick her ass, it's hard to tell with Willow sometimes.

I didn't care though. I just shrugged. "I don't know, I didn't catch her name. It's okay."

Part of me wanted to cry at the pain in her eyes as she looked at me. "You're hiding again, aren't you?" All I could do was nod. Hiding, that's what Will always called it. "Is it because of what she did to you?"

I shook my head. "No, that's not it."

She nodded, her eyes still hurting. "Is it because of me?" I started to shake my head and she continued. "Because of us?"

I sighed. "Yeah Will, it's because of us."

"Oh." Her voice was so small and hurt I almost missed it. I wanted to take her in my arms and make everything all right, but the fact that I couldn't hold her was exactly what was wrong. So I just stood there and watched her struggle with the tears for a few minutes. My Willow was crying and I wasn't doing anything about it. I think that made her cry even more, but I was too deep in the fog to even notice.

Finally she wiped at her eyes and straightened up. "We have to get you to the hospital." She took my hand again and led me away and neither of us said another word.

So we've been in the emergency room for about three hours now. It took forever before they brought me in to see a doctor. I'm not dying, so I don't get the express lane treatment. But I got in finally, and they set my nose and stitched up my cheek. Looks like I'm going to have a pretty respectable scar, which just figures. But I'll live. I almost wish I wouldn't, because I'm thinking dying would have to be easier than sitting next to Willow like this. They sat us down in the waiting room again until they could finish the discharge papers. The nice nurse said it would take five minutes tops. It's been half an hour. And now that I'm all patched up, we don't have anything to concentrate on but each other. And that's no good. We've said maybe two words to each other since we sat back down to wait. I haven't even apologized for making her cry earlier. We've been all business since we got here, avoiding any chance to talk about what we need to talk about. Just like we've been doing for weeks now. It hurts. Just like it's been hurting for weeks now.

Will's been great though. Got me in here, sat me down, took care of all the paperwork like a pro. Of course, she's had as much practice as the rest of us. I swear, if this place gave out frequent bleeder's points none of us would ever have to pay to get stitched up again. There's another good thing to be thankful for, come to think of it - Joyce has me on a pretty good health plan now that I'm working for her, and she insists on paying for most of it herself. She said it's the least she can do since I take so many shots meant for Buffy. Then she smacked me with the dishtowel and told me not to get hurt so much. I like Joyce.

I especially like her because thinking about her means I don't have to think about Willow. It doesn't work for long, of course. I'm already thinking about her again. Thinking about how close she's sitting, thinking about how much closer I wish she was, thinking about how good my hand feels in hers, thinking about how much it all hurts.

Not my face, you understand. Willow's holding my hand so I can't even feel the pain. That's just the way it works, the way it's always worked. Her very first magic spell, I guess. Yet another reason we should be together. Yet another reason I love her.

"Hmm? I didn't catch that?" She turns to me and raises her eyebrow. I didn't realize I'd said that out loud. Of course, this is Willow. Maybe I didn't.

And I know I shouldn't say anything. We haven't talked about it yet, and now's not the time to start. She doesn't want to hear it, I know that. I should just tell her it was nothing. I will tell her it was nothing. I open my mouth to tell her it was nothing...

"I said I love you."

Her eyes snap open just as wide as my own at that. She's not surprised that I love her, of course. She's known that forever. She's surprised that I said it. I can't blame her, even. I'm surprised that I said it. But I'm glad too. I'm sick of this, dammit, sick of not being able to tell her how I feel. Sick of not even trying to talk about it. So I push on before she can get her mouth to work again.

"I love you, Will. I always have and I always will. You know that as well as I do. And you love me, you know you do. And..."

She brings her hand up to my mouth to stop me and I want to cry. She won't even let me say the words.

But she surprises me. She always surprises me. "I do love you Xander. And I know you love me. Of course I know that. But I'm scared. I'm sorry, but I am. If we mess this up..."

Now it's my turn to cut her off. "We won't mess it up, Will. We can't. We won't." Not my finest argument ever, but I'm hoping my eyes will back me up a bit. Well, my eye anyways. I don't think my shiner is up to declarations of love just yet.

And I guess one eye isn't enough. She's wavering, but not enough. "I don't know, Xander. I'm just so afraid that I'll lose you like I lost Oz and Tara, that I won't be able to be what you need and I'll lose you. I couldn't live with myself if I let that happen."

I nod, because I know exactly how she feels. Of course I know. But I can't let her think that's enough. "I know what you mean, Will, I really do. And I'm scared too, scared of messing it up and scared of losing you." I look into her eyes and put everything I have, everything I am into my voice. "But I'm even more scared of not being able to love you. I can't live with myself if I can't love you, Will. That's not living, it just isn't. I love you, and if I can't tell you that every minute of every day of my life then I don't want to live at all. Please tell me I can love you, Willow, please let me love you."

Her hand comes up to cup my face and her eyes are a complete mystery to me. I used to be able to read her eyes as easily as I could read words on a page, but not now. Not for awhile now, really. I lost that ability when I lost the ability to live without loving her. Ironic, I guess. So when her mouth opens and closes once, then twice, before she can speak I have no idea what she's going to say.

Then the tears start streaming from her eyes, and I know I've lost. She's too afraid and my love just isn't enough to take the fear away. I can't look at her now. I close my eyes, then reach up to take her free hand in mine. I bring both her hands to my lips. I have to kiss her, kiss some part of her, before she says no. Before she kills me with a single word.

"Yes."

My eyes snap open, and she's crying and smiling and laughing and she said yes, she said yes! And suddenly she's in my arms and I'm holding her, I'm holding my Willow again, and she's my Willow now and forever, and oh my God it feels so good to know that at last. And we're both crying and the pain is a million miles away and I don't know how long we sit there holding each other and crying and laughing before she pulls back a bit and puts her hands to my face.

"I love you Xander." So very softly, and now she's leaning in and I'm kissing Willow. I'm kissing Willow, those are the only words I can use to describe it and those are the only words I'll ever need. I'm kissing my Willow and I never want to stop.

Finally we come up for air, and she laughs at the expression on my face. "I'm so sorry, Xander. I don't have the words. I can't believe I didn't let this happen sooner and you should have yelled at me or maybe Buffy should have or Giles maybe, he's the smart one, but someone should have yelled at me and why didn't anyone yell at me? 'Cause I've been acting ultra-yellworthy lately and I'm so sorry I hurt you for so long and I'm babbling so obviously I'm not going to be able to explain myself or anything, 'cause God forbid, but I swear I'll make it up to you, I swear I will, but right now I really really need to kiss you again so can I kiss you again before I make it up to you?"

She finally stops to breathe, so flustered that she can't even babble anymore. But her eyes beg me for an answer. All I can do is nod. She's my Willow, she's already made it up to me, but I can't speak yet to tell her that. I might never be able to speak again. So I kiss her, I kiss my Willow again, and that seems to be answer enough because she's kissing back and I'm not so worried about the no-speaking thing, 'cause I've got much better things to do with my mouth.

Again we surface and she pulls back to look at me. Her eyes grow cloudy and I know she's worrying about my face. "Did I hurt you?" I still don't have any words in me, but one look in my eyes and she knows that touching her, kissing her, will never hurt. Her eyes brighten again and she laughs some more, just because she can. She leans in and gives me a quick peck on the lips, too quick by far, then pulls back.

Something behind me catches her eye. She giggles and reaches around me to the next seat over. I laugh with her as she brings my copy of the discharge papers into view. The nurse must have dropped them off without us even noticing. Willow puts them in her purse and then looks up at me again.

Her eyes meet mine and I know what she's going to say. "Let's go home, Xander."

All I can do is smile at her. But I've found my words again.

"We're already there, Will. We're finally home."

The End