Thirteen

HALLELUJAH

Willow stood in the bedroom. She stood very still.

She heard Thor’s chariot leaving. There was a rush of air, as the goats leapt into the sky, and they were gone.

Faith was still asleep. She slept curled up on her side, the way she always did.

Tara was dead.

Willow could hear the little clock on the end table in the living room ticking...time was moving on. But she knew it stopped, now, in 1998.

Rebecca was dead. Buffy was dead. Dawn was dead. Fred...Connor...

Faith...

Faith was dead.

Faith was asleep, a few feet away from her.

Willow wasn’t crying. She didn’t understand why she wasn’t crying. It seemed like the time to cry.

Tara was dead. Willow thought of her. But no memories came to mind. The concept of Tara was there...her name, the fact of her existence. The fact that Willow had loved her. But no memories came. Her smile, her touch, her warmth, the way she laughed...these things didn’t come to Willow. Willow thought maybe they were gone now...that maybe Tara had taken them with her, into whatever nothingness had claimed her. Being erased from existence wasn’t quite the same as dying...it was worse than dying. Tara, and everyone else Willow loved, had been erased retroactively: they stopped existing in November, 1998, when, somehow, they lost a battle they were supposed to have won...

The clock ticked. It seemed loud, in that silence.

Not only was Willow’s relationship with Tara over now, but it had never even happened in the first place, she realized. It was erased.

Willow wondered if she’d forget it soon. She wondered if the changes in time would catch up to her, and change her...she wondered if that’s why no memories of Tara came...if that’s why she couldn’t cry.

Willow felt tired. And she felt numb...like she had lost something, forever. Not something outside of her...not the loss of her friends. Something inside... something that was precious, priceless beyond compare...something she couldn’t function without. She felt hollowed out. Like a mannequin...a wax figure. A representation of Willow.

The clock ticked, even louder. Willow felt it, thumping against her head like a hammer. The room was dark; shutting the curtains in front of the doors leading to the balcony had plunged the bedroom into shadow. She noticed it, and everything else, but as facts only. Information. Nothing outside of her had any effect on her now. It was all just information...

Except for the clock. It was ticking louder and louder...not even ticking now, but throbbing, pounding, blasting. It was like firecrackers, like gunshots, like cannons.

This was what it felt like to lose, Willow realized. Not to lose a game, or even a battle; to lose everything. To know that you had been given one chance to make things right, and you had failed...and now it was over. Your life, as you had known it, was over. You had lost...you were lost.

Willow stood in the middle of the bedroom, and she heard the clock booming every second, and she watched Faith sleep...

Faith was dead. But she was alive...she was alive, right here in front of her. Tara was dead, but she was alive too...she was a sixteen year old girl living in Milwaukee now.

Willow stood there, and didn’t know what to do. She didn’t move. She felt tired...but not like she wanted to sleep. She simply had no energy, no life. She felt like a device that had been unplugged. She knew, intellectually, that she would have to do something at some point. Move. Eat. Go to the bathroom. But she simply didn’t see a reason to bother. She stood there, and didn’t move, because there didn’t seem to be any reason to. She had lost...lost every single thing. What was the point of going on?

She could kill herself, but she didn’t want to, because it would take effort. She’d have to plan out how to do it and then go through with it and all she wanted to do was stand there. She was at the end of everything. There was no reason to do anything, no reason to live, no reason even to die. She simply existed, a woman out of time...a woman without a purpose, or a place...

Eventually, she became tired of standing up. She thought she had been standing there a long time. She didn’t know how long at first, until she remembered the clock. She had been keeping track of the ticking...the pounding.

It had ticked one-thousand, nine-hundred and thirty-six times since she had come back in from the balcony and stood in the bedroom. She realized she had been counting.

The chair would have been comfortable, but she would have had to walk over to it and she didn’t want to do things. She was dead, she didn’t want to move. She wanted to be still, forever. So she dropped to her knees on the floor.

She tried not to think, as she knelt there on the floor, because there was no point to thinking and everyone was dead now anyway, but thoughts came to her nevertheless. She still didn’t understand why stopping Warren hadn’t fixed things. She still didn’t understand...

She knelt on the floor, in the dark. A few shafts of sunlight squeezed through the small gap in the curtains, and settled on Willow’s hair, and her cheek. It was annoying. Willow didn’t want to be in the sun. She was a dead thing now, dead like all her friends, and she wanted to be in the dark.

She thought of Tara again, just to see if she could. She assumed the memory of Tara would be taken away from her soon. Willow knew, logically, that since her relationship with Tara had never happened now, that she herself was an inconsistency, a paradox, a loose thread that the universe had overlooked. But Willow knew the universe was a relentlessly logical and ordered place, and it would find her eventually...and then she’d be gone. At least, she hoped so.

The damned clock in the living room kept ticking...

Willow found herself getting up. She had a purpose now. A small one. After she had seen it through she’d go back to being dead, but right now she wanted to see to this one thing.

Willow felt like a zombie, as she walked into the living room. She had fought zombies before. She knew zombies needed an animating force, a will to compel them to do things. She was alive for a little while, to do this one thing. Then she’d be dead again.

She walked into the living room, picked up the clock from the end table, and smashed it into the wall, over and over again, until it burst into pieces.

There was no more ticking...no more pounding. The wall had a crack in it.

Willow went back to being dead. Whatever had animated her, given her purpose, was gone. The ticking was gone too.

Willow stood in the living room, with the shattered remains of the clock in her hand. She was bleeding; the face of the clock was glass and it had cut her when she destroyed it. She didn’t care. The pain was a sensation that living people had. Willow stood there, with her hand dripping blood.

And then Faith was talking to her...Willow realized Faith had been standing there since she had destroyed the clock. She realized she didn’t know how long ago that was, now. Without the ticking she had lost track.

She looked at her hand. It was bandaged. Willow had no idea where Faith had found bandages but then when she looked closely at her hand she saw that Faith had ripped a couple of strips from the bedsheet and used one to tie the other tight around her hand. Willow had no idea when that had happened.

Faith was still talking; she was talking louder now. Willow wasn’t looking at her. She was looking at the floor, at nothing in particular, although her eyes were aimed where the remains of the clock were scattered on the rug.

Faith was caressing her hair now.

Willow looked at the floor. She had destroyed the clock, and now there was nothing else to do. So she stood there.

“Please?” she heard Faith pleading. “Please talk to me, honey? Please?” Faith’s voice was shaky.

Willow turned, and looked at her.

Faith was crying.

Willow threw her arms around her. She didn’t think about doing it. It just happened. One second she was standing there; the next second her arms were around Faith.

Willow realized she had a new animating force now...a new will controlling her...a new thing she was compelled to do. But unlike the clock, this thing would take a long time...maybe the rest of her life.

She was going to take care of Faith. She was going to love her, and protect her, because somehow, she was compelled to. She didn’t decide to. She simply knew she was going to. Zombies didn’t have choices. They didn’t make decisions. They simply did what they were compelled to do.

Willow was dead. But Faith was alive...

Faith was alive.

The thought barreled into Willow’s mind like someone battering down the door to some shadowy old crypt and letting in the sunlight. It raced around in there, knocking things over, kicking up dust, wrecking the ordered, embalmed regularity of the place. It had been a place for dead things to rest in the dark, but now it was thrown open to the light...

“I love you,” Willow heard herself whispering, as she kissed Faith’s cheek. “I’m gonna take care of you, Faith. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Faith had brought her back to the bed. Willow had gone with her; Willow still wasn’t really thinking about things. Suddenly, she’d find herself doing something. Right now, she was doing the things Faith wanted her to do.

They were lying on the bed together, looking into each other’s eyes. Willow wasn’t sure how long it had been, but she thought it might have been hours. Faith was holding Willow in her arms, and saying things, and caressing her hair, and kissing her cheek sometimes. Sometimes Willow noticed the things Faith said, and sometimes she didn’t. She didn’t respond to anything she said. She looked back into her eyes, and waited for things to happen...waited for herself to do something, or say something. Willow never thought of doing things or saying things now, they just happened...she would find herself moving...she would hear words coming out of her.

“If you wanna talk to me about it, honey?” Faith whispered. “Anytime you wanna talk, we can talk, okay?”

Willow felt Faith’s fingers in her hair...felt her lips touch her cheek sometimes. She felt the warmth of her, all around her, encompassing her, as Faith held her.

Willow was barefoot now, in her jeans and a sweater. Faith must have gotten her out of her coat and her boots at some point, though Willow didn’t remember when it happened. The clock wasn’t ticking. Willow wondered where the ticking went. Then she remembered she had destroyed the clock.

Instead of the clock, Willow heard Faith’s heart beating, against her cheek.

Willow found herself getting ready to talk...organizing her thoughts. She was realizing that she would have to say things...explain things. She would need to talk to Faith. She knew Faith was fragile, and if she ignored her too long Faith would be hurt. Willow felt herself gathering force...gathering energy...getting ready to pretend to be a living thing. This would be harder than the clock, because she would have to do it for a long time, without a break. Hours...

Willow found herself turning over, so she was on top of Faith, and looking down into her eyes.

“I love you,” Willow heard herself say. “Do you understand that? Do you understand that I’m not lying when I say that?”

Faith nodded, and kissed her. Gently...a chaste kiss, on the lips. Willow allowed it. It felt good. It made her heart beat faster, made her feel, for a second, like a living thing. But then Faith kissed her again, wanting more...parting Willow’s lips with her tongue.

Willow knew this was another way she would have to take care of Faith... she couldn’t let Faith get the wrong idea about this.

Willow took Faith’s hand.

“I’m gonna take care of you from now on,” Willow said. “Okay?’

Faith nodded.

“That means I want you to stay with me,” Willow said. She looked down into Faith’s eyes. She felt Faith, opening her legs beneath her. Faith was still in her underwear. “Will you stay with me, Faith? Will you let me take care of you?”

“Yeah,” Faith said, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

Willow found herself kissing them away, one by one.

Faith put her arms around Willow, and ran her fingers down Willow’s back. She moved her hands under Willow’s sweater, and caressed her.

“Take...take this off,” Faith whispered, and kissed Willow’s neck, and opened her legs wider underneath her. She moved her hands around underneath Willow’s sweater, and caressed her breasts, over her bra.

Willow shook her head, and gently moved Faith’s hands away.

“No,” Willow said. “That’s not what you and I are about, sweetie. I’m gonna take care of you. But...that’s not what we’re about, okay? I don’t want you to feel hurt by that, or rejected. Because, you’re beautiful? You’re a beautiful girl, Faith. And I’d love to be with you like that? It would feel so good? But that isn’t what you need. You need to understand about love...what it is. You don’t understand, because no one ever showed you. I’m gonna show you. Okay? Will you let me show you?”

Faith nodded. “Will you still...can we still...?”

Faith blushed.

“Can you...still sleep with me at night?” Faith said. “I liked...I liked last night. I liked being with you.”

Willow rolled off of her, and pulled her into her arms. She kissed her cheek.

“Yeah,” Willow said.

She moved her hand under Faith’s tee-shirt, and started rubbing her belly, as she looked down into her eyes. Faith moaned, a soft whisper of a moan, her breath warm as it fluttered against Willow’s neck. Faith’s eyes were beautiful, Willow realized...she had never really noticed how big they were before. Big and brown, and filled with golden light.

“You like this, sweetie?” Willow whispered.

Faith nodded, and curled up against Willow’s breasts.

“You want me to do this at night when we go to sleep?”

Faith nodded.

“Love is doing what’s best for someone, even when it’s hard. What’s best for you right now is to understand that I like being with you, that I care about you, and it has nothing to do with wanting sex with you. You’re beautiful and I’d love to have sex with you, but that’s not what you need. It’s not what’s best for you right now. Okay?”

“Okay,” Faith whispered.

“We need to talk now,” Willow said, and stopped rubbing Faith’s belly, and sat up. “I need to tell you...everything.”

“About what?” Faith said, and sat up with her. She missed Willow’s hand on her stomach...it felt warm. She wished Willow hadn’t stopped caressing her there. She hoped Willow would do it again that night.

“The future,” Willow said.

They sat on the couch together in the living room and ate breakfast. Willow didn’t know what time it was, because the clock was smashed. But it felt like it was past noon.

Willow didn’t eat. She drank coffee, and watched Faith eat. The coffee was comforting, for some reason. It reminded her of when she was alive...when she used to drink coffee while pulling all-nighters studying for exams...or when she was sitting around Giles’ house with Buffy and Xander in the old days, making plans to go fight monsters, treating it all like a game...they’d stay up all night and make plans, and Willow would treat it like an equation, like a problem to be worked out... something that might be difficult, but that couldn’t really hurt them...it was just a matter of applying the right formula. Then Xander died.

He was the first soldier down...and that’s when they knew they were in a war...

And then they lost.

Willow knew that history never happened now...it was erased. It was time to write a new history.

But before she did, Willow would tell Faith the old one. Willow was the only person in the world who remembered it now, and she wanted Faith to know it, before she let it go...before she let it fade into oblivion...

Before Willow let Tara go, she was going to make sure someone knew who she was.

“I’m sorry, Willow,” Faith said, two hours later. “I’m sorry about Tara. She sounds like she was really awesome, y’know? She sounds like...one of the really good ones.”

“Yeah,” Willow said. She felt cold...empty. She didn’t like talking about Tara now. Tara had been warm...talking about Tara reminded her that she was dead now. Willow tried to change the subject. “So anyway...um...”

“You okay, honey?” Faith said, and took her hand. “It’s okay, not being okay. You’ve been through some hard stuff...the hardest stuff. It’s gonna take you awhile. But I’ll be here to help whenever you need me.”

“Thanks,” Willow heard herself say.

Faith was looking at her. Willow felt her eyes on her. She didn’t look back. She didn’t want Faith to see her eyes...to see that there was nothing inside her. That she was hollowed out.

The breakfast was cold. Willow hadn’t eaten any of it, and Faith hadn’t touched it after Willow started telling her the story.

“So, show of hands,” Willow said. “After the story I just told you, who thinks I’m all like, this weird babbling insane woman?”

Willow heard herself saying the words. The words sounded like her...like the way she used to speak, when she was alive. But when she said them she felt like the words were a tape recording. They just...came out of her. Sometimes Willow didn’t bother listening to them.

Faith looked at her, sometimes...searched her eyes. Willow never looked back. Willow noticed Faith was still holding her hand. Caressing it.

“I don’t think you’re insane,” Faith said. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me. But...Jesus Christ. This is just...I mean...I’m a superhero?”

“Well, no cape, no secret identity? But yeah, basically.”

“And what the hell kind of name is ‘Buffy’?”

Willow smiled. But Willow knew it was a mechanical thing; a reflex. Sometimes bodies in morgues moved too, hours after they died. “Yeah, you got a point? But trust me, I’m not making it up.”

“And ‘Xander’?” Faith said. “What kinda guy calls himself ‘Xander’?”

“It’s California, sweetie. Just roll with it.”

Faith stood up, and started pacing around.

“Okay so, let’s see if I got this straight,” Faith said. “I’m a potential Slayer, one of like a couple thousand girls who could become the next Slayer when the current one dies. A Slayer’s like, this magic chick who’s all fast and strong and a great fighter and she kills vampires and demons and monsters and shit. And, oh yeah, vampires and demons and monsters? They’re real.”

“Yeah. Always a bummer when you find that out for the first time? I was depressed for a whole week. I just spent that whole week at Buffy’s place, pigging out on ice cream.”

“So anyway, Buffy, the current Slayer, dies this year, around summer, when a big bad ass vampire dude named the Master is gonna kill her. But she’s only gonna be dead for like maybe thirty seconds and then she’s revived. But that activates the next girl, Jamaican chick named Kendra. Kendra dies in May, 1998 when Angelus--a vamp who used to be Buffy’s boyfriend, and believe me, we’re gonna be talking a lot more about that--gets a gang of bad guys together and one of them kills her. Cut to the next girl, me. I get powered up, and I’m all bad ass. But before that this cool English lady named Rebecca Greer finds me, on my birthday, this year. She’s my Watcher, like how that Giles guy is Buffy’s Watcher. She takes me in, trains me up...”

“Yeah, and that’s the thing. There are things that are happening, stuff that’s in motion. Some of it we can change, some of it we can’t. Some of it we’re gonna want to change, some of it we’re gonna want to leave alone. We need to come up with a plan.”

Willow realized she had no idea what she had just said to Faith, or what Faith had said to her. She didn’t remember any of it. She hadn’t been listening.

“You mean like, to keep history going the way it went before?” Faith said.

But it didn’t seem to matter. Willow felt like part of her was on autopilot... part of her was seeing to this, while the rest of her was...somewhere else. Maybe nowhere.

Willow heard herself talking...

“Yeah. Except...no,” Willow said. “We need a new and improved version of history. Okay, there’s stuff that has to happen? But there’s a whole bunch of other stuff that just, like, really sucked. Stuff I can head off. The thing is, Willow is out there now...the other me, the one who’s fifteen right now. She hasn’t met Buffy yet, but she will in a couple months, and she’ll start helping, and so will Xander. But right now she doesn’t even know anything about magic. Even when she does start getting into magic, next year, I’m still gonna be a hundred times more powerful than she is. Buffy, Willow and Xander are getting out of stuff by the skin of their teeth, but once I show up I can make it easier.”

“You can take out that Master guy, right? You said you can do fireballs, and fire kills vamps.”

“Yeah. I could walk into the Hellmouth and dust the Master and every one of his redshirts without breaking a sweat.”

“And Becca. What about her? Do we like, just wait here for her? You said when she found me she saved me from getting killed by four vamps...”

“Yeah, but it’s not gonna happen that way this time. This time you’re gonna be with me, and no one’s ever gonna hurt you, sweetie. And we’ve got Warren’s credit card and his cash, we have plenty of money to stay here until Becca arrives. She’ll be in Boston by October at the latest, looking for you. She’ll buy a really awesome house downtown, and we’ll be moving in with her.”

“You sure about all this? She’ll be cool with taking us in?”

“Sweetie, she’s rich. She bought that house so you would have a place to live. Plus she already knows me, she’ll have no problem with me being there. I told you how I saved her in 1972, remember? And she’s your Watcher. Of course she’s gonna take care of you.”

“But...I mean she sounds nice and all but...”

Faith looked uncomfortable. Usually Willow could read Faith like a book, but not this time.

“I mean...it’s not gonna...gonna make you and me different, right?” Faith said. “She sounds like a nice lady but...I wanna be with you. Will she...have a problem with us sleepin’ in the same bed?”

Willow thought about it. She knew the answer, but she’d just have to cross that bridge when she came to it. Faith was supposed to be with Buffy anyway... Willow would have to find a way to separate herself from Faith eventually. Rebecca could help with that.

“Um...it’ll be fine, we’ll figure it out,” Willow said. “So anyway, the plan is you and I lay low here, wait for Becca, she shows up around the end of the year and takes us in and you start your training. You become the Slayer after that, and then when Kakistos shows up I make him my fucking ashtray.”

Willow felt something. She felt something when she thought about killing Kakistos...stopping him from hurting Rebecca. It felt like a current of electricity sparking through her system and it felt good. It made her feel alive for a second. But then the feeling was gone.

“You said he’ll have a bunch of guys with him, right? Like, a bunch more vamps?”

“Eighteen, plus his pal Trick. Doesn’t matter. He can bring eighteen-hundred if he wants. More fuel for the fire.”

“The last time...Rebecca was...I mean he...raped her. Killed her. Kicked me out a window too.”

“Not this time. Sweetie, you understand that, right? You get that I’m not just bragging here? When I say you don’t have to worry about Kakistos, that he won’t hurt you or Becca, I mean it. It’ll take me three seconds to burn him and whoever he brings with him down to dust. Yeah, I’m not all super strong or anything like a Slayer? But he won’t even be able to touch me with my energy shields. He’s gonna burn. He has no chance against me. Zero, none. Okay?”

Faith nodded. Then she blushed.

“You got my memories,” Faith said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. Sorry you...gotta carry all that. All that stuff I did. How I was all...all...doin’ stuff with guys. How I was...a skank.”

“Come over here,” Willow heard herself saying.

It was another automatic response...another thing Willow just did without thinking about it. Part of her was committed to taking care of Faith, and that part was paying attention to Faith, and it knew what Faith needed. It always knew; Willow knew Faith as well as she knew herself.

But the rest of Willow...Willow didn’t feel the rest of herself. She wasn’t sure the rest of her was even there.

Faith walked back to the couch, and stood in front of her. Willow watched herself, and heard herself.

She took Faith’s hand, and sat Faith down next to her.

“Don’t ever say that again,” Willow said, and looked Faith in the eyes. “You understand? You’re not a skank. I don’t want you to ever call yourself that again. Ever.”

This was something Rebecca could do better, Willow knew. Faith had immediately respected Rebecca, from the moment they first met. Faith was afraid to disappoint Rebecca and afraid of the tone Rebecca’s voice got when she was angry, and she could never bear Rebecca’s eyes for more than a few seconds, and she always did exactly what Rebecca told her, to the letter, without hesitation.

But Willow knew Faith could always outstare her, even now, when she was twelve years younger. She knew Faith wasn’t intimidated by her in the slightest, even with her magic powers. She knew Faith respected her, but not as a mother figure, the way she had respected Rebecca. With Willow it was all tangled up...Willow could feel it all, tangling up in Faith’s head, in her heart. Faith wanted Willow to take care of her, but not as a mother; as a lover.

Willow realized now that it might not be the same between Faith and Rebecca as it was before...that her presence might change it...

Faith was looking at her. Willow knew she had embarrassed her, a little. And she knew her own voice didn’t carry the authority Rebecca’s did...

Willow knew she hadn’t handled it right. Hadn’t handled it like Rebecca would. Willow knew Faith could smell bullshit a mile away. Faith could tell she was faking this...doing an impression of Rebecca. Faith didn’t know Rebecca yet, but Willow could tell Faith knew she was making it up as she went along.

Faith looked at her, looked right through her, and nodded.

Willow knew the key to Faith was, never lie to her.

“Sweetie...look,” Willow said. “You did stuff, okay. But...you did it because you were alone...you were scared, and sad, and trying to survive out there. That doesn’t make you a skank. If you were a skank, you wouldn’t feel guilty about doing that stuff. What you are is a strong girl who was in over her head with stuff and did the best she could, and yeah, made some mistakes? You let some people take advantage of you? But you tried as hard as you could. Plus? You’re a girl I love. Okay?”

When she said all that, Willow felt, for a moment, as if she was actually saying it...as if she, Willow, had said it...as if there still was a Willow, somewhere inside her...but then the feeling was gone.

Faith smiled.

“Okay, fairy godmother,” Faith said.

They both agreed after three hours of talking about it that the future was giving them a headache, so they decided to forget it for awhile. They had been cooped up in the room for nearly four straight days and Willow owned a single pair of jeans and her underwear and socks were feeling gross again.

They both needed clothes, in fact they both needed complete wardrobes. Willow had a wallet with four-thousand dollars in it and a credit card with a two-hundred thousand dollar line of super-scientifically untraceable stolen credit and she wanted some damned underwear, and a sweater that wasn’t itchy.

So they got out of the room and went shopping. Willow knew Boston better than Faith: at this age Faith hadn’t really seen the city, but Willow had lived in Boston for awhile, a few years back. She had taught a course on comparative religion at Harvard for a semester after her book on Norse mythology had made a minor splash in academic circles in 2005. Willow decided they needed clothes, and fabulous ones, to make up for only having approximately one-point-five outfits each, and they were in Boston’s Back Bay, a hop skip and a jump from all the cute little clothes shops on Newbury Street and the Neiman Marcus at the Copley Place Mall. Willow intended to start at Copley Place, since it was half a block away, but she was compiling a mental list of the most fabulous Newbury Street shops in her head, and then trying to figure out which ones existed in 1997.

The snow had ended but the temperature had dropped. Boston felt like the inside of a freezer as they came out of the hotel and the ground was icy and piled high with hard, tight-packed snow drifts. Their boots made crunching sounds as they walked. The city was coming back to life; it was Monday morning and people were back at work, rushing here and there, heads bowed, trying to get out of the cold. A lot of them didn’t wear gloves or hats or scarves even though the temperature had to be in the single digits. Willow always thought Bostonians were strange that way.

The city was quiet. The cold had a way of doing that, muffling all the sounds. It wasn’t just that people weren’t talking as they headed to wherever they were going. The cold was like a blanket. It made everything softer, somehow, at the same time as it felt harsh on your skin. In winter, Boston always made Willow feel like she was inside a snow globe. Everything was hushed, and slow.

“Hold up,” Faith said, before they had walked more than twenty paces. “I wanna go to that church over there for a minute.”

Faith was pointing to the Trinity Church, across the square.

Inside, the old church was magnificent, done all in warm, red and gold hues, with a lofty dome ceiling, beautiful murals covering every wall and giant, centuries-old stained glass windows adorning the central chamber in every direction. And it was huge, too; there weren’t many people there at that time of day on a Monday but the church could have seated thousands. But Willow felt dwarfed in that cavernous, dark room...she felt small. Oppressed. Her voice echoed, her footsteps echoed. She felt the weight of that old place. She thought it was beautiful, but she felt its weight...the weight of all those souls...with all their expectations...their endless demands...their endless questions: Why is life so hard? Why does evil exist? Why do we suffer? Why would any God make a world as bleak as this one?

God didn’t make this world, Willow would have answered. Humanity did.

She felt the weight of them...she felt them all. Souls coming together here, across centuries, joined together in prayer, their eyes raised up, hoping to catch a glimpse of Heaven up there. Hoping there was a reason for all this, a reason for the monotony of their lives, for the chaos of the world, for the suffering they saw all around them, every day, and thought, There but for the grace of God...

Willow felt them all, millions of them over the years, raising their eyes toward the heavens, and hoping they weren’t deluding themselves when they thought there had to be a reason somewhere up there...

Help us. Save us. Give us answers. Bring us hope. Show us the way...lead us out of the dark...

Love us...

Love us, even though we butcher each other. Even though we kidnap girls, and whip them and brand them and piss on them.

Willow wanted to get out of there. It wasn’t a peaceful place at all, it wasn’t a quiet place. It was a noisy place...all those souls were still there...still suffering...still pleading...still desperately hoping...hammering away at her... clawing at her...trying to rip off pieces of her.

Willow knew it was her fault the world was gone...her fault humanity had been snuffed out.

She looked across the room, at the altar...at Jesus Christ, hanging on the cross above it. She had never understood Christians: never understood why they commemorated an act of butchery. It was an obscenity, Willow thought, having a statue of that tortured man there. He didn’t die for their sins, she thought. He died because they were sinners. Because they butchered him. His death didn’t wash their sins away. It revealed their sins. It revealed their depravity.

Willow Rosenberg Antichrist, Willow thought. The name came back to her, a spectre whispering from the shadows.

Maybe those fanatics had been right about her after all, she thought, when they had captured her six years before. She had fulfilled every aspect of the prophecy except one: born on the right day, at the exact right moment, when the planets aligned...born in the right place, along the 40th parallel. Born a Jew. Possessing power to control the elements. Only six people in the world had been born at the exact right moment, but Willow was the only one born in the right place, and the only Jew, and the only witch. The Antichrist had to be her, the fanatics reasoned, if fanatics could reason. The Antichrist could be no one else.

But there was one aspect of the prophecy Willow didn’t satisfy: she wasn’t born with the mark.

This puzzled the fanatics, an order of pale, sickly, unwashed, inbred monks living like rats with their families amongst the sprawling ruins of an ancient Druidic temple buried in the darkness and the filth of the lowest levels of the sewers beneath the Vatican in Rome, and forgotten for millennia. They had captured Willow and brought her there, and they examined her for days, using wizards in their employ to maintain powerful binding spells around her, to prevent her using her magic to escape. She fulfilled the prophecy, perfectly, in every other detail; why didn’t she have the mark? They shaved her head and examined every inch of her flesh. The mark just wasn’t there.

But then one of the fanatics had an epiphany, as fanatics are wont to do: their prophecies didn’t say the Antichrist had to be born with the mark. They only said the Antichrist would have the mark.

So they gave it to her.

They burned numbers into her skull...marked her, forever...branded her.

When they had finished, when Willow had been mutilated into the thing they needed her to be, the monks closed their eyes, clasped their hands in prayer. “Praise the Lord,” they whispered. “Hallelujah”.

And then Willow woke up...

And the monks found, to their horror, that though they had indeed released a monster when they mutilated Willow, it wasn’t the monster they had anticipated...it was a monster they couldn’t fight...a monster no one and nothing could stand against...

Willow destroyed them, when she saw what they had done to her, and the darkness she held inside her, like a glass of water filled to the top that always required perfect balance to maintain, finally overflowed. She killed every single one of those diseased monks, burned them to cinders, and destroyed their temple with fire so hot the old stone actually melted. Then she killed their families too, with the sole exceptions of their young children. When those children looked into her black eyes, they were afraid, and though Willow had enjoyed that look of terror and submission when she saw it in the monks’ eyes, she didn’t like seeing it in their children. She didn’t like how they had been forced to live down there in the sewers all their lives, like vermin, denied the sun. So she spared them.

But she didn’t spare the city: when she ascended back into the light Willow rose up into the sky above the Vatican, riding the wind like some terrible, beautiful, black-eyed goddess, and she destroyed that seat of power, and then all of Rome with it, creating volcanoes where there were none before to fill the streets with running fire, and calling thousands of meteors down from the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter to flatten the city, to utterly crush its pride, its hubris. And when that was done, and the splendid city was reduced to a devastated, burning desert, Willow caused the Tyrrhenian Sea, part of the Mediterranean off Rome’s west coast, to rage with tidal waves that drowned anyone who had escaped. In the end, not one building was left standing anywhere in the city. Not one tree or flower or shrub or patch of grass escaped Willow’s wrath. When Willow had finished with it, Rome resembled, more than anything else, the surface of the moon.

Willow killed more than four million people that day. After that, she nearly killed the rest of the world too.

When it was over, and Willow had managed to contain her darkness again, the world marveled at the destruction of the great city, not least of all because, miraculously, not a single child had been killed. Every person who was at least sixteen years old had died in the fires and the floods and the meteor impacts. But all the children, every last one, had been spared, somehow. No one understood how it was possible.

The world’s wonder didn’t last long. Rebecca paid a witch she knew named Clea Crow twenty-million dollars to create a spell that would alter the memories of every person on Earth outside of their circle, as well as altering all visual records of the disaster. The day after the spell went into effect, the world still mourned Rome, and the millions who had died, but no one remembered the woman who had killed them, and her terrible black eyes. No one remembered that every single child had miraculously been spared. The destruction was seen as a staggeringly rare confluence of natural disasters, a one-in-a-trillion sequence of events that would never happen again. Religious people wondered if the Second Coming was at hand, and there was a mass exodus from the Catholic Church, as Christians worldwide took the destruction of Rome and the papacy as a sign from God. Scientists tried for years to explain the disaster, proposing hypotheses as bizarre as the passing of a small black hole through the vicinity, or even the influence of extraterrestrials. But eventually, the world turned its attentions to the survivors, rather than the cause of their suffering, and as disaster relief operations began in earnest, life returned to a semblance of normality.

But the mark those monks had given Willow had never gone away.

Willow could heal every other part of herself, but those three sixes they had burned into her skull never did heal, no matter how many times Willow tried, no matter how many times Tara tried...until finally, they gave up.

Willow realized now, standing in that beautiful old church, that maybe it didn’t matter how she had gotten the mark. She had it, that was all that mattered. She had the number 666 burned into her skull, and now the world was gone... because of her.

Willow wanted to get out of there...escape them...escape all the souls.

Willow Rosenberg Antichrist, she heard them whispering.

Willow wanted to get out of there...

But Faith took her hand, and led her across the giant room, to a massive display of candles at a side altar in an alcove beneath a stained glass window depicting Mary Magdalene. Mary, a beautiful, fair-skinned woman with red hair and green eyes, was penitent, kneeling in the dirt, her eyes downcast, with tears falling down her cheeks.

A strange feeling came over Willow, when she looked up at her...a feeling she couldn’t describe. She had never felt anything like it. But then it was gone.

“What are we doing here?” Willow said. Her voice echoed.

“I wanna light some candles,” Faith said, softly. “You’re supposed to like, give a buck for every candle, like a donation to the church? At least that’s how it was at Saint Augustine’s in Southie. Then you light a candle for people you’ve lost.” She took a crumpled-up twenty dollar bill out of her jeans pocket and put it in the little wooden donation box next to the altar. “Got some money here, I found this twenty on the floor at an arcade on Huntington Avenue last week. I don’t wanna use Warren’s money for this.”

“I didn’t know you were religious,” Willow said. She didn’t lower her voice. It still echoed in the dark, hushed room. “Considering I’m from like twelve years in the future plus I have your memories too, you’d think I’d know something like that.”

“I’m not, really,” Faith said, softly, as she picked up one of the long, thin wooden lighting sticks. “Seen too much badness out there to really be religious. But I’ve been to this church before, they always took me in when I had nowhere else to go. Always figured if I was ever gonna run into God? Maybe it would be here. It’s nice here, y’know? Real pretty, but not like, all showin’ off about it either with like a ton of gold and silver or whatever. It’s just kinda pretty...and it feels warm, with all the red and gold. I think God might like it here. You religious? You believe in God?”

“No,” Willow said.

“Never? I mean, all the crazy stuff you told me, vamps and all that, I can see how that might kinda make you think no one’s watchin’ things up there. But how about before? Before you knew about vamps and stuff?”

“I wasn’t really religious when I was a kid. My parents weren’t, they never bothered. They were Jewish but they never went to temple. I actually found religion after I learned about vampires and demons and stuff. Once I got into magic I worshipped the Goddess.”

“Goddess,” Faith said. “That like God but just a chick version? Or something else?”

“Female version of God I guess. She’s the Creator...She created everything, and She’s supposed to love us.”

“Thought you said you don’t believe? Wait, that’s right, you said you don’t believe in God. So you believe in the Goddess instead? Okay, cool. Girl power, I can dig it.”

“No,” Willow said. “I don’t believe in the Goddess anymore either.”

“Because...because of what happened? Losing everyone?”

“There’s no God, Faith,” Willow said. Her voice carried. “No Goddess, no God, no one up there. No one gives a shit about us. No one ever did. And if there is someone up there? Then that’s even worse. Because it means whoever created all this is so fucking heartless that they can just sit back and watch everyone we love die and not lift a finger to help.”

People were staring. Willow’s voice bounced around the room, found every corner, every ear. It was cold, echoing across those warm, red and gold walls. In that reverent silence, it was harsh, discordant.

“Sshhh,” Faith said, and kissed Willow, softly, on the lips. She held the kiss, gently, held her lips against Willow’s.

“Sorry,” Willow said, and kept her voice down this time.

“It’s okay, hon.” Faith picked up another of the wooden lighting sticks, and handed it to Willow. “Light these candles with me?”

“Why? Doesn’t matter.”

“This isn’t about the Goddess. It’s about you. These are all the people you loved. I don’t know any of them? But I know you. I care about you. I wanna light these candles for them...because I care about you. Okay?”

Faith touched her stick to one of the candles, and gathered a flame. She looked at all the unlit candles. They were small, white candles in glass holders. Faith touched the lighting stick to one of them.

“Buffy,” Faith whispered, as the flame grew.

She looked at Willow.

Willow touched her lighting stick to the candle Faith had just lit, and gathered some of its flame, and lit another candle with it.

“Tara,” Willow whispered.

They lit a candle for everyone Willow had lost. Willow tried to remember them all as they said their names...tried to remember something good about each of them. Xander’s’ goofy laugh, the way Rebecca raised her eyebrow, the way Giles sighed when Buffy said something he didn’t understand. Angel’s unflappable serenity, Dawn’s exuberance, the way Fred’s nose wrinkled up whenever she concentrated. Evan’s beautiful smile. Riley’s nobility. Connor’s restless curiosity. Buffy’s warm hands...Tara’s beautiful eyes...

When they were done, Willow thought she should cry, but she didn’t.

They went clothes shopping after that. Willow noticed Faith was looking at her a lot. Faith held her hand everywhere they went, and made little jokes, trying to get her to smile. But Willow didn’t smile. She was careful not to ignore Faith, because it would hurt her. And Willow tried to make herself smile, for Faith’s sake. But she couldn’t.

They started in Copley Place, and after a few minutes Faith decided to “kick things up a notch”: since Willow had mentioned that she thought Faith should consider getting a couple of dresses, Faith said she would do it if she could pick out some clothes for Willow, and then she decided it would be fun if they went all the way and picked out all of each other’s clothes. And they did. Willow bought almost all of Faith’s stuff at Neiman Marcus, lots of elegant dresses and sexy skirts and expensive shoes, and some nice earrings. But Faith didn’t see much of anything she liked for Willow there, so she waited until they hit the shops on Newbury Street to pick out Willow’s clothes: sexy, swaggering, colorful stuff with an ample helping of tight jeans and leather thrown in, lots of hand-made silk scarves in bright colors because Faith thought Willow looked pretty in them, a gold necklace, a gold ankle bracelet, and three different funky hats.

“I look like a Powerpuff Girl,” Willow said, and found herself smiling, as she looked at herself in the mirror in a cramped little used clothing place called Second Time Around.

“A what?” Faith said.

“I’m all like, funky.” Willow was wearing ultra-tight faded vintage Levis jeans, a thick, black, vintage 1960’s wool sweater with an embroidered pink floral design on the front, a black, red, green and yellow Rasta-style beret, and a pair of pink Converse Chuck Taylor sneakers. “And I think I’ve got every color in the visible spectrum going on here.”

“You look hot, fairy godmother,” Faith whispered in her ear. “Those jeans are steerin’ around your curves just right. Gettin’ me all hot and bothered. I’m thinkin’ we should’ve extended the deal to underwear too. I woulda bought you some awesome underwear, honey. Black G-string, garter belt? Yummy.”

“Remember about the spanking?” Willow said.

“I’m a bad kitty,” Faith whispered, and giggled in her ear.

They got back to the hotel room much later that night, loaded down with fourteen shopping bags. The first thing Willow did was call down to the front desk and book the room for the next nine months. The second thing she did was take her boots off and plop down on the couch; they had crisscrossed Newbury Street about a hundred times and her feet were killing her. Faith had picked out three pairs of knee-high boots for her, one pair of Docs, two pairs of open-toed high-heeled shoes, and the pink Chuck Taylors. Willow hoped some of it was comfortable.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Faith said, and sat next to her on the couch.

“These old boots suck,” Willow said. “Walking in them for a long time always does a number on me. Here’s hoping the ones you bought me are better.”

Faith moved down to the end of the couch, took Willow’s feet in her lap, and pulled off her socks.

“What are you doing?” Willow said.

Faith started massaging Willow’s feet. A little shudder of pleasure went through Willow, a tingle that flowed up from her feet to her ankles, all the way up her thighs and into her stomach...and between her legs.

“How’s this feel honey?” Faith said. “Feel good?”

Willow laid back on the couch, stretched her legs out, and closed her eyes. “Yeah...yeah, it’s...it’s awesome,” she murmured.

“Cool,” Faith said. “I always take care of my fairy godmother.”

Faith massaged Willow’s feet for half an hour, and by the time she was done all the throbbing was gone and Willow felt like she had clouds attached to her ankles. The massage also made Willow extremely horny, but she didn’t tell Faith that. They were both quiet, as Faith massaged her feet in the dark. They didn’t say a word until it was over. The room was silent; only Willow’s soft moans broke the silence. Willow moaned, as Faith touched her feet in just the right way, and worked all the stress out of her.

“All better,” Faith whispered, when she was done. Then she fished the ankle bracelet out of one of the bags, and put it around Willow’s left ankle.

After that, they tried on their outfits for each other, not bothering to go into the bathroom to change. They had a fashion show. Willow felt a little more alive, now. The foot massage, trying on their outfits...Willow began to feel like she was actually taking part in these things, instead of just watching them happen. Faith put the necklace on her, and Willow kept it on, along with the ankle bracelet. They had bought nightgowns too. They put them on last, and went to bed, well past midnight.

Willow took Faith in her arms as they laid down together, and kissed her cheek. She slipped her hand beneath Faith’s nightgown, and rubbed her belly.

“My sweetie gets a massage too,” Willow whispered.

Faith nodded, and curled up against Willow’s breasts, and rubbed her feet against Willow’s under the covers.

Three minutes later, Faith was asleep.

The rest of that month was cold and gloomy and there was another big snowstorm. Willow took Faith out when the weather permitted, because she wanted Faith to see Boston. But Willow never smiled, and most of the time, she felt like she was watching herself...hearing herself...doing an impression of herself. She felt like she wasn’t there. But she never indulged those feelings too deeply, never let them take complete hold of her, because she knew Faith was fragile, and it would hurt her...

Willow did the best she could. She took Faith to the Museum of Fine Arts, and she knew Faith hated it, but Faith pretended to be interested, for Willow’s sake. Willow knew Faith had liked the museum more when Rebecca took her. They ate at nice restaurants because Willow knew Faith had never eaten in a nice restaurant before. The closest she had come was a steak house in South Boston. They went to the movies a lot, almost every night, because Faith loved movies. They were never bored, because they could always get along, always talk; it was just the way they had always been together. But Faith watched Willow, all the time. Willow always felt Faith’s eyes on her.

Sometimes, Faith would bring up Tara...she would try to get Willow to talk about her. Willow always found ways to change the subject. And Willow found it curious that Faith never brought up Buffy--not even once. Faith kept talking about Tara, but not Buffy.

At night they slept together. Willow rubbed Faith’s belly, and it helped Faith sleep. But after awhile Faith started holding Willow in her arms when they slept, instead of the other way around. Willow didn’t mind. When Faith held her, Willow felt like she was really there, really part of the world. Eventually Willow looked forward to going to bed more than any other part of the day.

January passed into February, and the weather got even worse: bleak gray skies and hail and freezing rain and an icy wind that numbed your hands through your gloves and got into your bones and stayed there. Willow didn’t really notice it; things didn’t really affect her anymore. But Faith didn’t like being out in that cold, so they spent most of their time in the hotel room as the weather got worse, renting movies, or just hanging out and talking. Faith held Willow in her arms, almost all the time now. They laid down together on the couch when they watched television, and Faith held Willow in her arms, and caressed her hair. Faith brought up Tara sometimes. Whenever she did, Willow changed the subject. Though they didn’t go out as much, Willow did manage to get tickets to a Celtics game on February fifth--lousy tickets. They were too high above the court to even recognize individual players. They rooted for the green and white jerseys to beat the blue jerseys, and ate hot dogs, and made the best of it. Willow knew Rebecca could have gotten them seats at center court. But Faith didn’t complain.

When they got home after the game that night and went to bed, and Faith took Willow in her arms the way she always did, Willow kissed her.

Willow trembled a little, as her tongue touched Faith’s...as she tasted Faith’s lips, and felt Faith’s breath, warm, mingling with her own. She didn’t know why she kissed Faith. But it made her feel alive.

They didn’t do anything else. When Willow tried to kiss Faith again, Faith smiled, and shook her head, and kissed Willow on the nose. “Time for bed, fairy godmother,” Faith whispered, and held Willow close, and ran her fingers through her hair...and they went to sleep.

The next day, it happened.

The day had started out fine. The sun had finally peeked out from behind the clouds and the temperature was actually back up in the thirties again. When Willow woke up Faith started tickling her, because she said she was tired of never seeing Willow smile. They’d had a tickle fight after that, more like a tickle war in fact, which Faith finally won, pinning Willow down eventually and not letting her up until she promised to smile at least once a day.

“I’ll try, sweetie,” Willow said.

They went out, and hit the shops on Newbury Street, and had lunch at a place called Stephanie’s that boasted an outside patio, but it was still too cold for that. But the food was good, and as they ate Faith started tickling Willow under the table because Willow hadn’t given her a smile yet since the tickle fight. Willow did her best to come up with one.

Willow noticed Faith watching her, as they headed back to the hotel that afternoon, holding hands in the bright sun. But Faith always watched her. Willow wished she could smile. But she knew she was still dead inside...still a zombie, doing the thing she was compelled to do. She would protect Faith, and care for her. But she couldn’t do anything else...couldn’t feel anything else...because all her friends were dead...

Because she had failed...

She would never be with Tara again.

Tara’s smile came to Willow, then, as she walked with Faith through the park in Copley Square, in the sunlight. The way Tara’s eyes crinkled up when she laughed...the way her hair smelled.

As they crossed the park, Willow suddenly stopped, and burst into tears. Then Willow fell to her knees in the dirt, as suddenly as if she had been felled by an arrow from the heavens.

And she knelt there, in the dirt, with her eyes downcast, and her tears falling down her cheeks...

Faith knelt down beside her, and put her arms around her.

“Let it out, Willow,” Faith whispered. “It’s gotta come out now.”

“Tara...” Willow whispered, as she looked down at the dirt. “She...she’s...”

Faith was crying now, too.

“She’s dead,” Willow whispered.

Willow screamed: it was an awful wailing sound, and it tore through the park, through the whole square, echoing across the length and breadth of it like some terrible black bird that had been released from its cage. Faith held Willow tight against her, and Willow cried, and screamed into her bosom, as people all across the square stopped and stared.

“She’s DEAD!” Willow shrieked. “They’re all dead! Everyone I love! Everyone! EVERYONE!”

Willow trembled. Her teeth chattered. She felt the cold moving through her, the wind tearing into her. She hadn’t really felt the cold before. Even as the weather had steadily worsened, it hadn’t really affected Willow particularly. But she felt the cold now...

“TARA!” Willow shrieked, and looked up at the sky, straight into the sun. “BABY! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, baby! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry... I’m sorry I let you die...”

Faith kissed her cheek, and held her as tight as she could, and tried to block the wind, to keep the cold away. But Willow still shivered.

Willow lowered her head, and held herself against Faith’s bosom, her eyes downcast again now, looking down at the dirt. Her tears fell down her cheeks. They felt cold on her skin.

“I’m sorry, Tara,” Willow whispered, as Faith held her, and she cried. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

An hour later, back in the hotel room, Willow sat curled up on the couch, under a pile of blankets.

She felt cold. But she felt alive, she realized. She felt cold because she was alive...because she could feel things now. She didn’t feel like a zombie anymore.

Willow felt like there was a hole in her...like something had torn off a piece of her and left an open wound. But she was alive.

She had no idea what to do now. No idea how to live.

“Coffee,” Faith said, as she shut the door and took the tray in from room service. She wheeled the tray into the living room, and poured Willow a cup of coffee, black, the way she liked it. She made herself a cup with cream and sugar.

She sat next to Willow on the couch, got under the blankets with her, and handed her the coffee cup.

“Drink, honey,” Faith said. “I wanna get you warmed up, okay?”

“Thanks,” Willow whispered, and took the coffee, and sipped it. Faith held her hand.

They were quiet for awhile.

“I’m sorry about Tara,” Faith said, eventually.

“It’s just...” Willow started to say. Tears came to her eyes. “It’s just...”

The tears ran down Willow’s cheeks. Faith hugged her, and wiped them away. Willow put the coffee down, and curled up against Faith under the blankets.

“It’s just...I can’t even mourn for her,” Willow said. “I mean...she’s not really dead. She’s alive, right now. She’s a sixteen-year old girl in Milwaukee. My Tara’s gone, in the future she’s dead, my relationship with her never happened now, we...we never happened. We never happened.”

“You happened,” Faith said. “You guys loved each other. Don’t let yourself forget it, okay? Even if you’re the only one who remembers? Don’t let yourself forget.”

They were quiet. Willow curled up against Faith under the blankets. Faith held her.

“But...Tara’s alive,” Willow said. “My Tara died but...Tara’s still alive now. She’s a sixteen-year old girl now. I don’t even know...know how I’m supposed to feel.”

“Sad,” Faith said. “Sad, honey.”

Willow nodded.

“I can never have her again,” Willow said. “Even if things go sort of the way they went before? She’ll end up with the other Willow, not me. The Willow who’s in Sunnydale right now, not even aware that any of this crazy stuff is coming her way. Buffy’s gonna be there next month and then Willow’s off to the damn races. Then it’s the Master, and Spike and Dru, and Angelus...”

“You sure about all that?” Faith said. “I mean, maybe things will go different this time.”

“That’s up to us. Like I said before, we know what’s coming, now we gotta figure out what stuff we want to try to change. The battle I told you about, a couple years from now? The one against the Horsemen, and the First? We won that battle originally...but somehow Warren changed things around so we lost in the new history.”

“How’d you win before?”

“That’s the thing? I don’t really know. I was inside this old fort in L.A., in a little chapel, praying...and everyone outside was fighting to protect me. The First had an army of vampires and demons there to try to kill me, and all my friends and a bunch of army guys were protecting me. You were there, Buffy, Tara, Angel, Riley...you were all protecting me while I did this like, ceremonial prayer thing. But there were only like a couple hundred of us, and I think there were thousands and thousands of bad guys...I don’t know what happened. Before the bad guys could get to me I was sent back...sent back to before it all happened, before those priests got their hands on the Key in the first place. And I think we...did something with the Key? Maybe? The thing is, I can’t really remember. I think...there was like...a goddess, maybe? I remember a woman with black hair. And I think she sent me back...but I don’t really remember how we fixed things after that. I just...know that we did. But then Warren changed it. That’s why my world is gone in 2009. Because now, everyone died at the end of 1998. This time around we gotta stop that from happening.”

Faith thought about it.

“Strange, how only a couple hundred of you guys held out against all those vamps and demons. Maybe the army guys had some weapons? But still. It’s strange. But you were inside, right? You didn’t see the fight. Maybe your friends had some help you didn’t know about.”

“Maybe, but if they did then whoever helped showed up after the fight started. And I can’t even think of who could have helped anyway, unless more military people showed up.”

“And your friends don’t know about any of this?”

“No, when I got sent back, to before it happened? I was the only one in the world who remembered any of it.”

“Well, plan’s simple now at least. Grab that Key thing before the bad guys get their hands on it. No other choice.”

“Yeah. No idea what we do with it when we get it, since it can’t be destroyed and the bad guys are just gonna keep hunting for it, but I guess we cross that bridge when we come to it. But there’s plenty of craziness coming before that. The first thing is the Master. He’s in Sunnydale now, getting ready to escape the Hellmouth. Buffy’s gonna fight him, and he’s gonna kill her in June, and then she’ll be revived.”

“Unless we go there and stop him from killing her.”

“Can’t.”

“Why? I mean yeah, I know she gets brought back to life anyway but... might be nice to spare her havin’ to go through that.”

“There’s this book, the Pergamum Codex? It’s a book full of prophecies about the Slayer line. The copy Angel gave us was the last known copy in the world, and we lost it eventually, but before we did, Giles was able to translate a passage in it that said the Master was gonna kill Buffy. The thing about that book is, everything in it always comes true. Always, a hundred percent of the time, no exceptions. It’s never been wrong, not once in thousands of years. So if I tried to save Buffy? I think the Master would still kill her, but it would just happen differently. And it might happen in a way she couldn’t recover from.”

“So...we gotta lay low here.”

“Yeah, we can’t go to Sunnydale for awhile. We’ll wait here for Becca. But don’t worry, we’ll be going there eventually. You’re gonna love Buffy, sweetie. When you two get together? I promise, you’re gonna be so happy.”

Faith nodded. She was quiet.

“Hey,” Willow said, after a moment. “You okay, sweetie? What is it?”

“So...Buffy,” Faith said. “I was with her, right? I mean...she was my girl, the way things went before.”

“Yeah. Once we go to Sunnydale, you’ll meet her, and you guys are gonna be great together. It’ll be a little different this time I guess? But y’know, once you guys get a couple of dates under your belt...”

“Think that’s gonna happen this time? Me and her I mean? What if it doesn’t?”

“Um...it will. I’m...I’m...sure it will. Faith, you two are meant to be together, sweetie, trust me. You’ll be together.”

Faith looked at her. Willow blinked.

“I don’t get a choice in that?” Faith said. “What if I don’t wanna be with her?”

“Sweetie, you will,” Willow said. “Trust me, you’ll--”

Faith stood up. She paced around the room for a few seconds.

Then she turned, and looked straight at Willow.

“I’m not a necklace, Willow,” Faith said.

“Um...what?” Willow said.

“Necklace trick, remember? When you were explaining to me about magic and time travel and shit? That shiny blue necklace suddenly popped out of a hole from like the future? So a few minutes later, you sent it back to the past, because you were supposed to. Because it had already showed up in the past before, so that meant you had no choice. Or at least that’s what you thought. But I’m not a necklace. I decide my life. Yeah, okay, me and Buffy were together before. But I’m not gonna...gonna just...date some girl because that’s how it went once.”

Willow stood up, walked over to her, and took both of Faith’s hands in hers. “Sweetie, I know it must seem to you like...like you have no options here? Like you’re not being given a choice? But...if you could know what I know? If you could just know how happy you were with Buffy? If...you could just--”

“Maybe other people can make me happy too,” Faith said, and looked into Willow’s eyes, and caressed her hair.

Willow blushed.

“Look...how about...how about we talk about this some other time,” Faith said. “This time travel craziness kinda gives me a headache, and we still got a pile of movies to get to before we gotta return ’em. Deal?”

Willow nodded.

But neither of them moved. Faith caressed Willow’s hair, and looked into her eyes.

Willow could never outstare her. She looked away.

“I’m sorry,” Willow said. “I’ve like, dumped all this stuff on you? And...I know it’s hard. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Faith said. “You saved my life. You take care of me. I...I love you. I love you, Willow. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Willow said...and she realized she meant it in a different way now...a different way than when she said it to Faith all those times before.

They both stood there.

Eventually, Faith smiled.

“Guess Clint’s not gonna watch himself, huh?” she said.

“Guess not,” Willow said, and smiled back.

Faith took Willow’s hand, and led her back to the couch.

“C’mon fairy godmother,” Faith said, as she got under the covers, and laid herself down, and held out her arms. Willow laid herself down beside her, and curled up in her arms, as she had done every night for almost a month now, and Faith pulled the blankets over them. “If you’re good maybe I’ll do my Clint impression.”

“Please don’t?” Willow said, and giggled.

Faith looked down into Willow’s eyes, and squinted at her. “You a bounty hunter, boy?” she whispered, and began tickling her. Willow squirmed around, trying to escape, shrieking with laughter.

“You’re such a bad kitty!” Willow screamed, as Faith tickled her. “The worst kitty ever!”

After a couple of minutes, Faith relented. By that point they were both red-faced, and out of breath.

“You are so gettin’ a spanking,” Willow said, as they laid back down together. Faith put her arms back around Willow, picked up the remote from the coffee table, and started the movie.

“Bring it, Sunnydale,” Faith whispered in her ear.

February stayed cold. Willow and Faith stayed in the hotel.

Willow felt better. The way she had felt before...like she was watching herself, like she wasn’t really there, like there was a wall separating her from the world...had passed. She felt things now. A lot of them were bad things...they hurt. But at least she could feel again. She cried for awhile every day, because she knew she would never have Tara...because she never did have Tara...what they had was erased. That was the worst part. But Willow always waited until Faith was asleep before she let herself cry, because she didn’t want Faith to worry.

At night Willow cried, but during the days things were better. They went out to rent movies and buy food the hotel didn’t have on the menu--mostly double chocolate fudge brownie ice cream, which Willow agreed with Faith was awesome year-round, even in winter. During the days they watched movies and talked... sometimes about the future. Sometimes about magic. Willow explained to Faith about gods and goddesses, and how they governed the use of magic, since magic spells were really only invocations to the thousands of various deities and demons that granted certain spell effects. She also explained to Faith how the various gods and goddesses of the different pantheons had actually been created by humanity, out of human belief: if enough people believed in a deity long enough, it gained life. Faith asked if this meant Santa Claus was real.

“Well, maybe in about five-hundred more years or so, he might become real?” Willow replied. “If enough people keep believing. Then you’d have a big fat guy in a red suit riding around the world in a sleigh, somehow being able to deliver presents to every house on Earth in one night. Plus how does he fit all the presents on the sleigh anyway? It’s gonna have to be the size of like, Minneapolis and travel faster than the speed of light. But Thor drank half the Atlantic Ocean once, so I guess anything’s possible.”

Thor and Loki took a lot of explaining. Especially when Willow mentioned that she’d had sex with both of them. “But, hey! Not at the same time!” Willow had added, hastily. “Because, y’know...that would just be weird.”

After a few more conversations like that one, Faith added gods and goddesses to her list of Things Willow Kept Bringing Up That Either Freaked Her Out Or Gave Her A Headache, which currently included everything Willow had ever brought up that had anything to do with magic, time travel, apocalypses, monsters of any sort, global warming, Goth culture, or the Lakers beating the Celtics. So they went back to watching movies and talking about little things that had nothing to do with destiny or saving the world. And they enjoyed each other.

February passed. March arrived, and got even colder, somehow. “Boston,” Willow sighed, on the first day of March, as she stared out the window into the murky gloom of yet another blizzard. The window shook, the wind made a whistling noise, and Willow seriously considered the idea that maybe Boston had a secret cabal of frost giants hiding somewhere.

They stayed in. They rented movies. During the day, they talked... sometimes about magic. Sometimes about the future...

At night, they slept together, and Faith held Willow in her arms.

But Willow knew Faith was supposed to be with Buffy.

Sometimes Willow woke up at night, and felt the weight of that...felt the weight of the future.

She had already destroyed the world. She wondered now if she was destroying her two best friends as well.

The next morning, they were talking about the future. They needed a plan.

Outside, the unrelentingly gray sky was sending down sheets of icy rain now, and the wind was howling. The windows shook. Things looked grim out there...Willow wondered if it was an omen. If the future would be grim too. If there was any way to really change it...maybe, no matter what they did, they would still lose in 1998. Maybe, no matter what they did, they would always be fighting a retreat...

They needed a plan. They couldn’t just let things happen to them, like they had before. Couldn’t just let themselves be attacked, over and over again, always trusting to their luck, until one day, their luck turned against them...

They sat in the living room in their nightgowns, holding hands on the couch and drinking coffee, and they talked about the future, and tried to come up with a plan...but it was complicated. Willow still hadn’t told Faith half the things that were coming down, not because she wanted to keep them from her, but just because there was a limit to how much craziness Faith could listen to in a sitting before she got up and decided they needed to relax and eat ice cream and watch movies for awhile.

“This is like, complicated,” Faith said. “Time travel’s cooler in the movies.”

“Well let’s break it down,” Willow said. “Here’s what we definitely know. First, we need history to go the way it’s supposed to go in Sunnydale until you become the Slayer. That’s May, 1998. We can’t go to Sunnydale until after that.”

“Why? I mean...look, Will. Okay, Buffy’s gotta die because that book says so. But then what about Kendra?”

“Um...” Willow said. “Well...that’s...” Faith was looking at her. Willow could never outstare her. She looked away.

“Look at me,” Faith said.

Willow looked at her. Faith’s eyes didn’t waver, didn’t blink. She looked right through Willow...the way she had always been able to, from the night they first met. It was like looking at Rebecca’s eyes, Willow thought...Faith’s eyes always had the same power, even now.

“You’re really gonna let some innocent girl die?” Faith said. “Yeah, fine, Buffy gets revived. But Kendra doesn’t. You told me her life was pretty rough--parents gave her away when she was little, she spent her life training with her Watcher, and for what? Less than a year after she becomes the Slayer, she dies? Never went on a date, never had a friend, never even had a toy to play with when she was a kid? And then she dies? And you know how it happens, you can stop it, but you won’t lift a finger? That what you’re telling me?”

“But...you have to become the Slayer. And...for you to become the Slayer, Kendra...she...I mean...she has to...”

“Has to die?”

Willow looked down at the floor. “Yeah. It’s just...you have to be the Slayer, Faith.”

Faith let go of Willow’s hand, put down her coffee cup, and stood up. She paced around the room for a few seconds. Then she looked at Willow, with her hands folded across her chest.

“Why?” Faith said.

“Why...what? You mean why do you have to be the Slayer?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s...just...just the way things are meant to be.”

“Uh-huh.”

They were quiet, as they looked at each other. Willow felt Faith’s eyes, like searchlights, boring into her.

“You like me,” Faith said. “You like hanging with me. The way it went before, you liked me being part of the gang. You all did. Buffy was my girl, you and Tara were my sisters. Giles was our Watcher, then after Becca got brought back she was our Watcher. And then we were all a happy family. Dawn showed up, gang added a few new members, Riley, Fred, we had the kid, even better. Everybody liked everybody.”

“Yeah,” Willow said. “It was...it was perfect, for awhile.”

“But you didn’t like Kendra so much, did you?”

“What? No...no we...y’know...we thought she was fine.”

“Fine. Just not like, a friend. Not sayin’ you guys were all hatin’ on her or anything. Just that she was never part of it. You, Buffy, Xander...you were tight back in the day. But Kendra was never part of what you had.”

Willow’s face turned red.

“Not sayin’ you like shunned her or anything,” Faith said. Her eyes still pinned Willow down...held her. “She was just real different, right? Jamaican chick. Funny accent. Didn’t know how to act around guys. Real kinda rigid, always about the job. No fun to hang with. So you guys didn’t pal around much. Then she dies, I show up, and you guys all like me. I gotta be the Slayer? Maybe the only reason I gotta be the Slayer is you just like it that way better. More fun bein’ with me than her.”

“But it’s...it’s...the way things are supposed to go,” Willow said, softly.

Faith sat next to her again. She took Willow’s hand, and kissed her cheek.

“That world’s gone, Willow,” Faith said. “The way it all went? Me and Buffy, all that stuff? It’s gone. Yeah, I know, that’s tough to hear. But like it or not, you can change things...you are changing things, just by being here. Like it or not, the way things go this time is up to you, honey. You decide to try to make changes, or you decide not to? Either way it’s on you. If Kendra dies this time it’ll be because you decided not to save her. Either way, this time around, it’s all on your shoulders. The way the world goes is all on your shoulders.”

Willow nodded, and looked down at the floor.

Faith lifted her chin, and looked at her.

“Maybe we can make it better,” Faith said.

It was March eleventh. Willow’s birthday. The Willow living in Sunnydale would be sixteen when she woke up in the morning. The Willow sitting on the edge of the bed in the hotel in Boston, her eyes red from crying, didn’t even know how old she was anymore. Was she still twenty-eight? Or was she turning twenty-nine?

It was just past midnight; March eleventh had just begun. Faith was asleep. Willow had waited for her to sleep, before she cried.

She still cried every night. She always waited until Faith was asleep, before she did it.

But now she didn’t just cry for Tara. Now she always cried for Buffy too...

Because she was certain Buffy and Faith would never be together now.

Willow saw the way Faith looked at her. She knew what Faith wanted. She knew Faith was in love with her. She knew she was in love with Faith too.

It had happened so quickly. But Willow knew that was because part of her had always loved Faith...from the night they first met, and Faith had saved her life, and then held her in her arms when she got scared afterwards, and cried with her, Willow had loved her.

Sleeping in Faith’s arms every night now felt perfectly natural...it felt right. Willow looked forward to it...savored the memory of it...thought about it all the time.

Sometimes, at night, when she cried, Willow thought she should run away. Leave Faith, erase her memory and let the world go on as it had before. She knew how to erase Faith’s memory; she had been in Faith’s mind often enough that she knew just how to do it, if she had to.

Willow could hide somewhere, find some little town to disappear in. Warren’s credit card would get her started, and she could go on from there. She could keep herself away from them all, stay away from Faith and Rebecca, never go to Sunnydale...she could stay far away from all the people she loved, so she couldn’t contaminate them...couldn’t change them...couldn’t twist and distort and destroy their lives, just by being a part of them.

But Willow knew she couldn’t even do that. Without her, they would all die in 1998, when they lost the battle with the Four Horsemen and the First.

Willow knew she had changed things. Willow knew Buffy and Faith would never be together now.

She sat on the edge of the bed that night, as Faith slept. And she looked down at the floor...and she felt the world turning beneath her...turning on to a new course. For better or worse, she had changed it.

It could never go back.

Willow knew this was the last night she was going to cry. She couldn’t remain separate from this new world anymore. Couldn’t keep insisting it took the same path as the old one. Faith needed her. And all her friends would need her too. For better or worse, this was the world now...the world she had made.

“I love you, Tara,” Willow whispered...and knew she was saying it for the last time...

When Willow woke up that morning she felt better. She felt lighter...like she had put something down.

Faith was holding her, and looking down into her eyes.

The sun was shining into the room; Faith’s eyes always reflected golden in the sun.

“Happy birthday, beautiful,” Faith whispered.

Willow smiled, and curled up closer against her.

“Birthday girls get a kiss, okay? Is that okay, honey?” Faith whispered.

“Yeah,” Willow said, and closed her eyes, and let Faith kiss her...

Willow had never really kissed Faith before. Not like this...not the way lovers kissed...not abandoning herself to it, the way lovers did. Once, in 1998, before the old history was changed, Faith had kissed her; they had been lying down together because the First had appeared to Faith as Rebecca and said terrible things to her, and made her feel worthless, and made her cry. They had been desperately trying to find a way to save the world, after the Horsemen had been released and everything started falling apart, and they were all camped out at Angel’s mansion, because it was defensible and made of stone so it couldn’t burn. Buffy and Angel and Tara were out on an important errand, and the First appeared to Faith as Rebecca when she was alone...

But Faith wasn’t alone: Willow was there to protect her. After the First left, Willow consoled Faith, and calmed her down, and told her she loved her, and that everything the First said was a lie. Faith hadn’t really slept in days and she was exhausted, so they laid down together, and Willow held Faith in her arms.

And then, sometime later, Willow had awoken to find Faith looking down into her eyes, and growling at her. Faith kissed her, savagely, jamming her tongue into Willow’s mouth and holding her by the hair as she did it. She ran her fingers beneath Willow’s nightgown, and caressed her breasts, and then moved her fingers between Willow’s legs, caressing her there, too...taking her...snarling the whole time...looking down into Willow’s eyes the whole time...

“You’re mine,” Faith had whispered. “You belong to me.” But it wasn’t Faith’s voice. It was the Slayer...

The Slayer’s voice wasn’t a human voice. It was a predatory animal’s voice, a lion’s voice, if lions could whisper. It sounded like fire crackling. It sounded like stealthy footfalls in the tall grass. Faith’s golden eyes held Willow, pinned her, and made her wet...as Faith took her.

Eventually, Willow had managed to stop things before they went too far. But Willow never understood what brought it on...what brought the Slayer in Faith out that night...what made the Slayer say Willow belonged to her...

But that was the old history, Willow thought now, as she kissed Faith in the hotel room in Boston in 1997, in the bed they always shared, and melted into her arms, and felt herself becoming wet. They were going to make a new history...

Maybe in this one, she would belong to Faith after all.

“You’re so lucky you have me,” Willow said, as they laid together on the couch later that day, watching a Clint Eastwood movie Faith had rented. “Buffy totally hated watching all these Clint movies you were always renting. She always fell asleep halfway through. Especially during the cowboy ones.”

“You kidding me?” Faith said, as she held Willow in her arms, and caressed her hair. “Cowboy ones are his best ones.”

There were a dozen red roses in a vase on the coffee table now; Faith’s birthday present to Willow. Faith could have used some of Warren’s cash to buy something for Willow, but she didn’t want to use his cash. But Faith didn’t have any money of her own left after spending her last twenty dollars on the prayer candles in January. So she had pawned her Doc Marten boots and her leather coat the day before.

When Faith had given Willow the roses earlier that day, tears filled Willow’s eyes, and Willow told Faith she loved her.

“Buffy can kinda tolerate the Dirty Harry type stuff a little, I think mostly because she likes making fun of everyone’s hair?” Willow said. “But the cowboy ones put her to sleep. I mean that literally by the way. I don’t think she ever managed to stay awake for more than half of one.”

“Even The Outlaw Josey Wales?”

“Yeah,” Willow said, and giggled, as Faith started gently tickling her stomach. “Even Unforgiven”.

“So not dating her.”

“Maybe I’ll tie you guys up and make you date each other.”

Faith flipped herself around, and got on top of Willow. She leaned down very close to her, so their noses were touching, and smiled.

“You better not fall asleep during the movie,” Faith said.

“I’m definitely falling asleep,” Willow said. “I’m gonna fall asleep during the opening credits. I’m gonna fall asleep before Clint can even squint at anyone.”

“You better not.”

“I’m completely gonna. Watch me.”

Faith was holding her body against Willow’s. Willow found herself adjusting to her...moving her hips...opening her legs.

They had been smiling. Now they weren’t smiling anymore. They had been playing...now they knew it wasn’t a game anymore.

Faith looked down at her. Their noses were still touching. Her lips brushed against Willow’s. Not a kiss...just a caress. Willow moved her hand along Faith’s back. She looked up into Faith’s eyes, and saw a golden light there...saw the Slayer, still hidden for now, but peeking out at her...

“I’ll never hurt you,” Faith said, softly. “I love you too much.”

Willow nodded.

“This would hurt you, today,” Faith said. “It would hurt you, honey. After Tara, this would hurt you, and I can’t ever do that. I gave you the birthday kiss, because you’re beautiful and I love you. But...whatever this is, whatever this thing right now might be? If maybe we’re playin’ around, or maybe it’s something more serious? It can’t happen today.”

Willow nodded, and hugged her.

“One thing that won’t change from before?” Faith said, and kissed her cheek. “I’ll always look out for you. I’ll always be your big sis, no matter what else I am to you. I’ll never hurt you. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Willow said. “I love you too. I love you too, Faith.”

Faith smiled, and rolled off of her. “Let’s watch the movie. And, fair warning? You fall asleep and you’re gettin’ tickled.”

Willow curled up in Faith’s arms again. “Definitely falling asleep now.”

Faith grabbed the remote from the coffee table, and the movie started. “See, and here I thought I was the bad kitty? But I think you’re the bad kitty. I think you’re gonna get spanked one of these nights.”

“Bring it, Boston,” Willow whispered in her ear.

March was a strange month. It stayed cold--March in Boston had a tendency to be cold, and so Willow and Faith spent most of their time in the hotel room as they had the month before, renting movies and hanging out and talking. But Willow felt there was something different between them...a different energy. It was like they were circling each other. Like they were each waiting for the other one to make a move.

Faith dropped little hints. She found excuses to let Willow see her in nothing but her bra and panties, and sometimes they were thong panties. When she came out of the shower, she took her time putting on a towel, and sometimes she sat around in just the towel for awhile.

Willow thought Faith was beautiful. But knowing she could have Faith scared her. She kept thinking about Buffy.

When they did go out--to restaurants when they got tired of room service, to movies when they got tired of renting videos, to the great pizza place on Boylston Street, to the great ice cream place on Newbury Street--Faith always wore a skirt and panty hose and high heels, because she could sense that Willow liked seeing her that way. She gave Willow foot massages, almost every day now. Willow would lie there in the dark and moan, usually in her underwear, because Faith liked to wait until they were getting ready for bed before she did it. Faith would never ask, or announce her intentions. She would simply sit down, and take Willow’s legs in her hands, and lay Willow’s feet across her lap, and start caressing them. And Willow would lean her head back, and moan...and let Faith have her that way...

But Faith wouldn’t go any further than that. She didn’t kiss Willow again, not like she had the morning of her birthday. Faith dropped little hints, and she waited...she circled...

Willow knew it was up to her.

But she kept thinking about Buffy...

The weather stayed cold in March. The sky was usually cloudy and it snowed a lot, and when the weather had gotten just a microscopic little bit warmer toward the end of the month, it rained a lot instead. The world seemed like a gloomy, monotonous place, whenever Willow looked out the window. The first day of Spring passed and still the temperature was in the high thirties and the sky was gray.

Spring refused to show itself. Boston was imprisoned in a gray cell.

Spring seemed to be waiting, Willow thought; day after day, it waited, biding its time, as the world circled the sun...

April continued the pattern. Sometimes there was some sun, and they seemed to have finally left the snow behind for the season. But the temperature barely cracked forty degrees all month and it kept raining...Willow and Faith went out sometimes for the hell of it, even though it was raw and miserable outside more often that not; but going out was an act of defiance for them. They wanted to coax Spring out of hiding.

Finally, one cold, windy night toward the end of April, as they walked across the Boston Common toward the Public Gardens on their way back from an Italian restaurant in Boston’s North End, huddled against each other because the black sky was spitting rain, Willow stopped, put her hands on her hips, glared up at the sky and said, “Okay, can you cut the shit please? It’s frigging April! It’s not even the beginning of April! It’s April twenty-first! We’re two-thirds of the way done with April! Hello? It’s been spring for a month! What is your problem?!” She pointed at the sky, and started giggling, as she heard Faith laughing beside her. “Yeah, that’s right! I’m talkin’ to you!”

Willow’s voice echoed through the park. No one else was there but them; it was late on a Monday night and that part of Boston’s downtown was deserted.

Faith kept laughing. “You tell ’em girlfriend. We’ll show the sky it can’t screw with us. We’ll kick the sky’s ass.”

The branches of the willow trees all around them waved in the wind. The leaves--the thin, meager covering that had managed to grow back so far--rustled. Their voices, their laughter, bounced around in the dark for awhile, and faded away. The park was utterly empty, and so quiet they could hear the electric buzz of the streetlamps.

There was just them. The world was just for them.

Willow looked at Faith, in the dark. Faith’s nose was red, and she was shivering a little bit from the cold, but she was still giggling. She was a good, healthy weight now; she had been underweight when Willow found her in January. Her cheekbones had stuck out then, and Willow could see her ribs. Now Faith’s cheeks were rosy and her body was strong and supple. Faith stood there in the dark, her hair matted down from the rain, wearing the huge white scarf and the beautiful angora coat Willow had bought her, and her eyes reflected the lights from the streetlamps...reflecting golden. Faith was wearing one of the dresses Willow had picked out for her...red. She was wearing red lipstick, too.

Willow kissed her. Faith’s lips tasted like cherries.

Willow kissed her the way a lover would...and felt her heart race.

“Let’s go dancing tomorrow night,” Willow said. “No matter what the stupid weather is. We’ve never danced together. I wanna dance with you, baby.”

Willow took Faith’s hands, and put them around her shoulders, and slow danced with her in the park, and they laughed together.

“Will you dance with me tomorrow night?” Willow said, as she swayed with Faith, without music.

“Yeah, Willow,” Faith said, and tears ran down her cheeks. “I’d...I’d love to dance with you.”

Willow held her in her arms, and swayed with her...

“I love you,” Willow whispered in her ear. “After we dance tomorrow night, I’m gonna show you how much, okay?”

Faith nodded her head, and smiled, and cried.

And they swayed together, in the silence...

And the rain stopped.

They looked up, straight into a bright moon, nearly full.

The clouds were parting...the stars were coming out.