Giles rolled over in bed as he slowly came awake, frowning as his arm fell
onto the empty space next to him. "Willow?" He sat up, the sheet falling away as
he rubbed his face with his hands, trying to drive away the last hazy vestiges
of sleep. His hand dropped to the pillow beside him, landing on the piece of
paper that had been lying there. He looked down at it, hesitating before
reaching for his glasses. He slipped them on and picked up the paper, almost
afraid of what he would find. After last night, there was no telling what Willow
was capable of saying or doing.
You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn't want to wake you, but something
has come up that I need to take care of- something important. It doesn't have
anything to do with last night and I'll explain later, I promise. I know that
you're probably going to torture yourself over what happened, so let me tell you
right now that I don't regret a thing and I hope that you don't either. Thank
you for not turning me away last night, Giles. You helped me more than you know.
Willow had gone...left without saying goodbye. Giles stared at the note in
his hand, wondering what could have possibly come up in the middle of the night.
Granted, he knew that she'd needed to get home before her parents found her
missing, but even so...she should have woken him, at least. If she had, then he
could have... Could have what? Kissed her goodbye? Turned several shades of red
and stammered like a schoolboy? Quite frankly, he didn't know what he could have
done, or how he would have reacted if he'd had to face her this morning.
He tore the glasses from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose as the
reality of what he'd done struck him full force. He'd had sex. With Willow, his
friend and research assistant. A seventeen-year-old virgin. What could he have
possibly been thinking? *You 'weren't' bloody thinking, that's the problem...*
She had shown up at his door looking like something out of one of his fantasies
and his cock had stood at attention, every ounce of self-restraint flying out
the window, right along with his common sense. *Bloody priceless.*
Willow's note said that she didn't regret what had happened, but he certainly
felt torn himself. On the one hand, he'd behaved in a completely irresponsible
manner- worse than Ethan on one of his tears. He'd caused her pain, taken
something that- in all conscience- hadn't been meant for him. Her innocence
should have been meant for the man she loved, the man that she could share her
entire life with. Someone who wasn't old enough to be her bloody father. Someone
On the other hand... Thinking about Oz made him realize that he was hesitant
to examine what the other hand held. "Bloody hell!" Giles threw the sheet off
and stalked to the bathroom, intent on trying to wash away his guilt in the
shower. He relieved himself and then stood in front of the mirror, staring at
his reflection in surprise.
He'd expected to see the usual worn and tired countenance that normally
peered out at him, expected to see his shame etched clearly in every line of his
face. Instead, his eyes were clear and bright, his features softer...more
youthful. He looked rested, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from
his shoulders. He looked the way he had ten years ago, before he and Meredith
had parted and gone their separate ways. And he had another redhead to thank for
Giles turned away from the mirror and started the water for his shower. As he
stepped under the forceful spray, he finally let himself think what he'd been
avoiding since he'd awakened.
Last night had felt good...more than good- it had felt bloody marvelous. He
hadn't realized how starved he'd been until Willow had walked through his door
smelling like rain and jasmine, heating his blood with just a single touch. The
way she'd responded to his kiss, the way her body had melded to his...the way
she'd breathlessly said his name... He never stood a chance.
The hot water sluiced down over his body, reminding him of Willow's wet heat.
He'd only gotten the slightest taste of her before she'd pulled him away, but it
had been enough to hint at the sweetness between her thighs. How he wished she
would have let him finish, let him feel her climax against his tongue, let him
show her how pleasurable a first time could be. There were so many things that
he could have taught her... Perhaps he'd given up too easily, perhaps he should
have been more persuasive.
No. It wouldn't have been right. She hadn't wanted a teacher, hadn't wanted
passion and romance. She'd wanted to feel a hard body next to hers. The fact
that she'd wanted that body to be his didn't mean that she'd needed anything
else from him. She could have just as easily gone to Xander, given their
history, but Giles reasoned that she'd wanted someone with experience, someone
with less of an emotional investment. He cared for Willow a great deal- loved
her even- in the way that close friends often do, but they were not, and in all
likelihood would never be, lovers. They were battle-scarred soldiers in the
fight against evil, and last night they had clung to each other in desperation,
trying to heal their much-wounded inner spirits. Nothing more, nothing less.
Giles turned off the water and grabbed a towel, rubbing it briskly over his
skin. His thoughts turned toward the note that Willow had left, and the
"something important" that had suddenly come up. What could it have been? And
how was she feeling this morning, after everything that had happened? He needed
to know that she was all right, that he hadn't hurt her with his lack of
restraint. He hoped that his failure to reign in his carnal impulses- Ripper's
impulses- hadn't damaged their relationship beyond repair.
Cursing Ripper's tendency toward "self-gratification and screw the
consequences", Giles headed back to his room to dress and prepare for another
day at the library, where he would return to his usual routine of being a
responsible, stodgy Watcher. He would cross-reference and research the latest
paranormal activity, and last night would be relegated to the back of his mind,
a place that he was certain he'd be visiting time and again, for the rest of his
Willow watched from the bushes as Mrs. Summers backed down the driveway and
drove off. It was still early, barely six a.m., but she remembered Buffy saying
that her mom had been putting in extra hours at the gallery, to make up for the
days she'd spent at home, caring for her daughter. Thanking her lucky stars,
Willow bounded up the steps and rang the bell, wondering how she was going to
break this news to the Slayer. She looked down at the papers in her hand, a
frown marring her brow.
After quickly making sure that her translations were correct, she'd scribbled
a note to Giles and ran back upstairs to retrieve her clothes. She'd hastily
dressed and left the note on the pillow, taking a moment to observe him before
she left. He'd looked so young, his features softer and more relaxed than they
were during his waking hours, and she'd had to fight the urge to kiss him as
she'd left, the translated pages gripped tightly in her hands.
Her first stop had been home, where she'd slipped into her room and made up
the bed. She'd showered, changed, and bolted down a bagel and cream cheese, then
scribbled another note, this one to her parents saying that she was meeting
Buffy for breakfast. And now here she stood, waiting for Buffy to answer the
door so that she could turn the Slayer's world upside down.
Willow shifted her weight from one foot to the other, feeling her underwear
chafe against swollen, tender flesh. The slight pain between her legs reminded
her of Giles and what had happened between them just a few short hours ago. She
wasn't sorry that she'd gone to him and she fervently hoped that he believed
what she'd written in the note...and that he didn't regret being with her.
They had both needed it, had needed to feel the comfort that only the warmth
of another human being could give. She'd been frozen before, unable to feel much
beyond the pain of grief- a pain that was so great it made breathing difficult.
Being with Giles had jarred something loose, like the piece of apple lodged in
Snow White's throat. She could breathe again, think clearly again, and not feel
as though everything was going to crash down around her. No, she wasn't sorry.
Not one bit.
Despite the pain of entry, the experience hadn't been awful. Giles had done
his best to make it easy on her, or at least as easy as she would allow. And
he'd kissed her with such passion, made her feel as though it was 'her' that he
wanted, not just a substitute for Jenny. He'd treated her like a desirable
woman, not some charity case. He'd been wonderful, really- far more
understanding than she could have hoped for, all things considered.
She shuddered to think how awful the whole thing 'could' have been. He could
have rejected her completely out of hand, or could have been angry that she'd
even suggest such a thing. He could have felt that she was using him, could have
felt hurt that she would risk their friendship in that way. That was the only
thing that had given her pause- their friendship. She prayed that what she had
done wouldn't ruin what they had, or make things unbearably difficult when they
saw each other again. Last night she hadn't even considered what could happen to
their working relationship or their friendship; she'd just closed her eyes and
jumped without a parachute. At the time it had been freeing, now...
Now she hoped that it hadn't been the wrong thing to do. The sound of the
door opening startled her out of her reverie. "Willow? What are you doing here
so early? Is everything okay?"
Willow looked at the Slayer's tired face and sighed. "I need to talk to you,
Buffy. It's kind of important."
Buffy gave her a puzzled frown and stepped back from the door. "Come upstairs
and I'll get dressed. Mom already left for the gallery."
"I know, I saw her." Willow followed Buffy upstairs, unsure of how she was
going to divulge what she'd discovered. She felt grateful when Buffy decided to
take a shower before starting their talk, figuring it would give her a few more
moments to gather her thoughts.
She settled herself on the bed and quickly scanned the journal entries,
hoping against hope that she'd made a mistake. No, she hadn't- it was all still
there, in black and white. Willow sighed and closed her eyes, letting the
distant sound of the shower's running water lull her into a light doze. Too many
nights of too little sleep had finally caught up with her, and she wanted
nothing more than to be home in her own bed, instead of sitting here waiting to
drop the bomb on her best friend.
Willow drifted off, only to come awake abruptly just a few short moments
later. Disoriented, she tried to pinpoint what exactly had roused her, then
winced as the familiar sound of Buffy's retching reached her ears. She felt her
stomach clench in sympathy, sighing in relief when the noises stopped. After
awhile, the Slayer appeared in the doorway- pale and weak- but trying to shrug
"I guess whatever this is isn't going away anytime soon, huh? Maybe I should
have Giles look into it, I've never been this sick before in my life." Buffy
entered the room and collapsed on the bed next to Willow.
"I thought you were feeling better."
"So did I, but every so often I still throw up." Buffy sighed. "I wonder if
this is what morning sickness feels like," she mused. "Not that that's even a
possibility, thank God."
Willow closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Buffy?" she squeaked.
"M-maybe it is." She sat perfectly still, waiting for her words to penetrate.
"Is what?" Buffy said absently.
The Slayer rolled over and looked at her. "What are you talking about,
Willow stared down at the papers in her hand before passing them to Buffy.
She met the other girl's eyes. "Maybe...maybe you are...you know...pregnant."
Buffy laughed in disbelief. "Very funny, Will. You know that vampires can't
have kids, and I've only been with Spike in the last couple months..." Her voice
trailed off as his words came back to her- "I know y'er not on the bloody
rag..." She lay the papers down on the bed and her hand unconsciously went to
her stomach as she sat there in shock. When had her last period been? *Think,
Buffy! It couldn't have been that long ago...* After she'd killed Angel, the day
that Spike had called her for the first time... Nearly two months ago...
She shook her head. "No, it's some kind of Slayer flu. Giles will figure it
out and I'll be cured, no problem." Her expression was stubborn. "I can't be
pregnant, that's all there is to it."
"Anne was," Willow pointed to the pages lying between them. "I translated
some more entries, it's all right there. Guillaume got her pregnant... She
believed that it proved he had a soul." She tried to hand the papers to Buffy.
"Just read it."
Buffy knocked the papers away and leaped from the bed. "I don't want to read
it!" she screamed. "You made a mistake, that's all!" She looked at Willow, panic
stricken. "I can't be pregnant, Willow. I just can't," she whispered, her eyes
welling up with tears.
Willow walked over and pulled the Slayer into her arms. "It'll be okay,
Buffy. I'll help however I can... We'll get through this, you'll see." She
crooned more words of comfort, and when Buffy calmed, Willow tugged her over to
the bed and made her sit down. "First, you need to read Anne's journal. See if
there are any parallels between Anne and Guillaume and you and Spike. Then we'll
get you a test and figure it out from there." She placed the papers in front of
Buffy. "I'll go and make you something to eat while you read."
Willow left the room before the other girl could protest, wondering how they
were going to deal with the situation. Giles would have to be told, there was no
other way. Imagining his reaction was enough to make her want to crawl into a
hole and hide. And what about Spike? She felt completely overwhelmed by
everything that had happened- overwhelmed and exhausted. She could only imagine
how Buffy felt. With a heavy sigh, Willow headed for the kitchen, trying not to
think about the days ahead.
After Willow left, Buffy stared at the blurry pages for several minutes
before wiping her eyes. *I can do this...it's a mistake, that's all. I'll know
as soon as I read it.* Trying to ignore the pounding of her heart, she took a
deep breath, braced herself, and began to read.
>From the Journal of Anne LeMaire
31 May 1435
I have never been so happy, or so torn. I love Guillaume with every part of
my being, cannot bear to be apart from him, and yet, it is a bittersweet love.
We cannot walk in the daylight, or speak of our love in the presence of others.
We cannot sleep the entire night in one another's arms, nor can we greet the
morning sun together. We are wedded in our hearts, but not in the eyes of God
and it is entirely possible that we are both damned, and will burn in hell for
all eternity...just for loving each other. I often wonder how long it will be
before we are discovered. Just the thought fills me with a terror that is far
greater than any I have ever known.
Buffy swallowed, remembering all too well the intense pleasure of being with
Spike, tempered by the worry that someone would find out. How it tore at her to
leave him each dawn, knowing that their time together would always be too brief.
How the thought of being without him had utterly terrified her, and how even now
she didn't think she'd ever get over him. With the exception of being written
over five hundred years ago, Anne's words could have been her own.
13 June 1435
I find myself hurrying in my slaying duties so that I might spend more time
with Guillaume. He is all that I think about, all that I dream about. It is
becoming harder to focus my attention on staking vampires and destroying demons
when all I long for is to be with him. Lucien is beginning to take notice of my
distraction, questioning the number of kills and my long absences. My excuses
ring false, but there is no help for it. There is only Guillaume...and my desire
for him. Nothing else matters.
29 June 1435
I am so tired... It is becoming more and more difficult to hide my
involvement with Guillaume. Marie-Therese has been casting odd glances my way-
knowing little smiles. She assumes that I have fallen in love with one of the
local boys...as if that could ever be true. She has not voiced her suspicions,
but has taken to musing aloud on the joys of holy wedlock whenever in my
Lucien is swift in his correction of her. He brooks no argument regarding my
status as a maiden. In his eyes I am pure, and must remain so. It is the lot of
the Slayer to give her life to her calling, much like the nuns cloistered in the
convents. It is at times like this that I feel the weight of my betrayal- the
weight of my lies- to the only family that I have ever known. What fate awaits
me if I am found out?
17 July 1435
Already the heat of summer is unbearable. It saps my strength...makes me
weak...something I can ill afford. I have little appetite and my stomach churns
at the smallest provocation. I do not ever recall feeling this way in summers
past, perhaps there is something wrong? A stomach ailment of some sort? Has the
heat caused the food in the larder to turn? I will ask Oncle if he has a powder
that will ease the nausea. I cannot perform my slaying duties if I am unwell.
26 July 1435
Something is terribly wrong. I awoke this morn violently ill- retching
uncontrollably until my stomach had emptied itself. Marie-Therese looked
frightened, praying as she sat with me and bathed the sweat from my brow. Oncle
said that without a fever, there is little threat of contagion, and that perhaps
it was the evening meal that turned my stomach so. He prepared a warm tincture
of peppermint and after consuming it, I did indeed feel much improved. But I
have not been well for some time, surely there is a cause? I can only pray that
the episode is over and that my good health will return.
Buffy's hand covered her stomach as Anne's words brought back the vivid
memory of the first time she'd thrown up, the morning after she'd gone to Spike
at the mansion. She had thought it just a reaction to losing Oz and then Spike,
just her body protesting the weeks of stress that she'd gone through. It had
never occurred to her that she could be pregnant. Why would it, after Angel had
insisted that it wasn't possible? And why would he have told her that if it
1 August 1435
The illness has not passed. I do not want to alarm Marie-Therese or Lucien,
and have not told them that I am still suffering from this affliction. I have
managed to conceal the fact that I am retching nearly every morn, but how much
longer until they take notice of my pale countenance?
Guillaume is fraught with worry. He refuses to drink from me, saying that it
would only weaken me further. He says that I have grown thin and haggard, and he
blames himself. When we are together, he holds me whilst I sleep, and when he
makes love to me, it is with such gentle care, as if he is afraid that he will
hurt me. He said that I must tell Lucien soon, for I cannot go on this way.
Perhaps I have been bewitched, or cursed in some way? Guillaume is right, I
cannot continue for much longer.
5 August 1435
Mother of God. I- I believe now that I know what is wrong. But it cannot
be...it is not possible according to vampire lore. I have read the Council's
manifesto and it clearly states that such a thing is unheard of, but...what
other explanation can there be?
Today I went with Marie-Therese to visit with Claudine DeLacey, who is heavy
with her first child. We brought fresh food for the larder and swaddling for the
babe, tending to chores that were too difficult for Claudine to manage with her
swollen belly. I rested my hand there and felt the babe move, asking if it hurt.
Claudine laughed and said that it was a great improvement on the early months,
when she had been so ill. When I asked what she meant by ill, she told me that
she had been very tired, and that she could hardly keep down her morning meal.
These early signs are quite common, she said, and are often what tell a woman
that she is quickening.
I felt myself go entirely cold at her words. Her tale was a near replica of
mine- the fatigue, the nausea, the retching- all of it the same. And she treated
it in so casual a manner, as if it was of no import. Could it be true? Could I
be carrying Guillaume's child? In the manifesto it said that unsouled creatures,
creatures who are of the demon, are incapable of creating life. Is this then the
proof of Guillaume's soul? Is the Council wrong? Or have they been lying to us
The Council lying. Now there was a stretch. Buffy gave a sharp laugh as she
thought of the cloak and dagger machinations the Council was always engaged in.
Giles had to nearly beg for information at times, and even then they were always
less than forthcoming. She had heard him grumble over and over about the
"Machiavellian Empire," as he often called the inner circle of Watchers.
Mysterious and notoriously pretentious, they seemed to take particular delight
in letting Buffy and Giles charge into battle unprepared. *Wankers.*
She felt the familiar pang of longing run through her at the unconscious use
of Spike's slang. She wanted him- needed him- with her, holding her, telling her
that everything would be all right. If it was true...if she was pregnant...she
would need his strength in the days ahead. She didn't want to face this alone.
6 August 1435
Last night, I told Guillaume what I suspected to be true- that he retains his
soul and that I am carrying his child. He reacted with disbelief at first, for
he had never heard tell of a vampire being capable of breeding. I told him that
I believe it is my blood that nourishes his soul, and gives it the strength to
overcome the demon. Perhaps it is this strength that has allowed his seed to
grow within me. Guillaume allowed that he has felt an uncommon peace of late,
that the demon does not rage within him as it once did. If this is so, if
Guillaume truly does have his soul...perhaps I can make Lucien see that we are
meant to be together. Now that there is proof...
As Guillaume removed my clothing, he noted the changes in my body. My loss of
appetite has kept me quite thin, although my breasts are larger-swollen and
tender- and the tips are no longer light pink, but a darker, dusky rose.
Guillaume stared at me for the longest time, until I could feel myself growing
warm under his gaze. He said that I was beautiful and that he could not wait to
see my belly swell with his child. He made the most exquisite love to me then,
caressing and kissing...tasting every part of my body, until I begged him to
enter me. We moved together as one, our souls touching, and as I felt Guillaume
spill his seed within my womb, I heard him whisper that he loved me. And that he
would kill anyone who tried to part us.
10 August 1435
Marie-Therese has been watching me closely and I fear that she suspects that
I am with child. If she tells Lucien he will demand to know the name of my
paramour. He will be furious to discover that I have disobeyed him and if I tell
him that my lover is not human... I shudder to imagine the extent of his
distress. Will Guillaume's soul be enough to placate Lucien? He does not appear
to want me betrothed to anyone at all, I do not see how he will accept this.
Guillaume wants to take me away from here. He wants our babe safe from the
Council and from the witch hunters, but there is something that concerns
me...something that I have not spoken of. What sort of child will this be?
Half-human, half-vampire? How I wish that I could confide in Lucien so that he
might help me. I am so afraid...for myself, for Guillaume...for our unborn
child. What will become of us?
The journal entries ended there. Buffy surmised that Willow had stopped
translating as soon as she'd realized what the entries had revealed. Laying the
papers down on the bed, she got up and crossed the room to the mirror. She stood
there, staring at her reflection, trying to find some sign that her body had
changed. If anything, she was thinner than before, her stomach almost concave.
Her breasts were sore, but she'd just correlated it with the fact that her body
felt like one big bruise to begin with. Everything felt sore...trampled on...and
Buffy had avoided looking in the mirror for two weeks. Now that she was faced
with her appearance, she nearly sobbed at the sight of the stranger who stared
back at her. Her hair was limp, the shimmering strands of gold faded to a
dishwater blonde. Her eyes were huge, surrounded by deep purple shadows, set in
a pale and too thin face. Weren't pregnant women supposed to glow? She wasn't
even giving off a faint glimmer. Instead, she looked beaten, defeated by life.
"Buffy?" She turned to find Willow standing there with a tray in her hands.
The redhead walked over to the bed and set it down. "I made scrambled eggs and
toast. I thought that juice would be too acidic, so I brought ginger ale
Buffy waited for the familiar heaving of her stomach but it never came. The
food smelled delicious for a change and she offered Willow a weak smile.
"Thanks, Willow. It does look good." She sat down and picked up the fork,
tentatively taking a small bite of the eggs.
Willow looked at the papers on the bed. "You read them?" At Buffy's nod, she
continued, "And did you see any similarities? Do you think that...do you think
Buffy stared down at the food, her hair covering her face. "I think so," she
whispered. She looked up, letting out a sound that was half-laughter, half-sob.
"What did I expect? Did I really think that I could ever have anything
resembling a normal life? I should have known better...I should have known the
Hellmouth would find some way to fuck everything up."
"Listen, nothing is definite yet. We need to confirm whether or not you're
pregnant, then we'll worry about the rest of it. One step at a time." Having
someone other than herself to focus on gave Willow a welcome sense of relief.
She could be the strong one for a change, instead of grasping onto everyone else
like a drowning victim. And it enabled her to shove her anxiety over the night
before into the background, and only deal with Buffy's problem at hand.
"Buffy... if you are pregnant...we're going to have to tell Giles. He needs to
"I-I know I have to tell him, but... Oh God, Will...how? How am I going to
tell Giles that I've been lying to him this whole time? What will he do when he
finds out that I've been sleeping with Spike?" Buffy could feel the tears
starting again and it made her angry. She was sick of crying, sick of feeling
helpless... sick of feeling sick. She was pathetic- taking to her bed like an
invalid, giving up- she deserved Spike's contempt for the way she'd gone to him,
begging his forgiveness. Willow was taking control of her life, why couldn't
She angrily brushed the tears away and picked up the fork again, determined
to get the food down and keep it there. She needed her strength, needed to find
herself again...beginning now. Scooping a forkful of eggs, she shoved it in her
mouth and chewed, ordering her stomach not to revolt. She looked up to find
Willow staring at her and swallowed, praying that it wouldn't end up flying
right back out again. When nothing happened, she grinned, and the redhead
grinned back. "One step at a time, right?" Buffy said.
"Right," replied Willow, relieved to see that Buffy was getting some of her
inner strength back. She was going to need it, if what they suspected was true.
Buffy continued eating in silence for a few moments, until her stomach
couldn't handle any more food. She set down the fork and looked up at Willow.
"Thanks, Will. I hadn't realized how hungry I was." She rested her hand on her
stomach, wondering if there really was a life growing inside of her. "I have to
see Spike again. Whether or not I'm pregnant, he still should know that he has
his soul. And even though he's given up on me, maybe...maybe I'm not quite ready
to give up on him. I need to find out if there's a chance that he still cares."
Willow's face lit up. "Oh, Buffy...I'm so glad. And Spike does still care, I
know he does."
"Thanks for saying it, but somehow I doubt that it's true. You haven't seen
him, he's...different now. The last time I saw him...he was so full of
anger...and he looked...he looked as if he hated me." Her voice had dropped to a
whisper, as if the words were too painful to say out loud.
"I have seen him," Willow said calmly.
Buffy stared at her in shock, then her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean,
you've seen him?" she asked in a low voice.
"I- I mean that I've...seen....him," the redhead stammered. "The day of Oz's
funeral, w-when I was out walking...I found myself a-at the mansion." Willow
cringed at the dark look on the Slayer's face. "I went in...and...talked to
"And you didn't think to tell me this before now? Do you have any idea how
dangerous that was?" Buffy got up and began to pace around the room. "God,
Willow! You could have been killed! Did you even think?"
Willow was reminded of Giles' rant the night before and suddenly became
angry. "I'm not a child, Buffy. I can take care of myself," she said through
gritted teeth. "Besides, do you really think that Spike would hurt me? You said
you loved him...don't you trust him?"
Buffy whirled around and looked at her helplessly. That was it, wasn't it?
The reason why he hated her now? Because she hadn't been able to trust him,
because she hadn't had faith in him. Was it still an issue? She loved him...but
that didn't mean anything without trust.
"I- I do love him. And I was foolish not to trust him before, I know that
now. I should have known that he would never hurt my friends...I should have
been able to feel it in my heart- I do feel it- but I've hurt him so badly. I
don't know if he'll ever forgive me. When I said that you could have been
killed, I meant by his fledglings. He only killed Angel's, you know, and they
weren't the only vampires living at the mansion."
"Well, the mansion seemed empty, except for him." Willow got up and walked
over to Buffy. "I told him that you were sick and he looked...scared...for a
minute. He tried to hide it, but I saw. He still cares, Buffy. I'm sure of it."
"Well, I'll find out for sure tomorrow, won't I? One way or another, I'm
going to see him...and make him listen to me." She said it with a quiet
determination, certain now that she wasn't going to let anything else stand
between them. She had to try one last time, had to tell him that she loved him.
If he turned her away again, then so be it. She told him once that she'd never
leave and she'd meant it. She wasn't giving up without a fight.
Willow reached over and took her hand, squeezing it in a comforting gesture.
"I guess we should see about getting you a pregnancy test then, huh? Tackle one
problem at a time?"
Buffy squeezed back and smiled wistfully. "Yeah, one problem at a time." She
turned to the mirror and ran a brush through her hair before grabbing her purse.
A thought occured to her and looked at Willow questioningly. "Will? How did you
happen to translate the entries? I hadn't realized that you were helping Giles
Willow lowered her head and began to gather up her things. "Um, yeah,
well...I told Giles that I needed something to do...because I wasn't sleeping
nights. He said I could work on Anne's journal." She could feel herself flushing
profusely and prayed that the Slayer wouldn't notice. She let out a tiny sigh of
relief when Buffy just said, "Oh," and let it drop. She wasn't quite ready to
deal with what had happened with Giles, and it would suit her just fine if Buffy
never found out about it. Last night had been between her and Giles, no one
Buffy' eyes were drawn to the pages in Willow's hand and for a moment she was
back in her dreams, feeling everything that Anne had felt, experiencing the love
and fear that had dominated the young Slayer's life. She slowly looked up and
caught the empathy reflected in Willow's green eyes. "What do you think happened
to them, Willow? Is there any chance they made it...you know, lived happily ever
"Buffy-" Willow didn't know what to say.
Buffy sighed. "I know...stupid, huh? Let me have my fantasy before you
translate the rest of it, okay? That her life was perfect, that she was able to
have it all- the baby, Guillaume- true happiness. Just let me keep deluding
myself for a little while longer..."
The two girls linked their arms together and headed for the door, each one
wrapped up in her own thoughts about how much their lives had changed in such a
short time. Thinking about Anne and what was most likely a tragic end for both
her and Guillaume. Thinking about their own recent tragedies... and wondering if
the future held any more surprises in store for them.