"So Willa's in town, huh? Interesting." Devon nodded gravely as he contemplated his friend's deep frown, a rare occurrence in itself.

"Yeah. There's something different about her. Couldn't put my finger on it, but it is there." It was a few days after the shock of seeing Willow walk in while he and Buffy were sleeping beside each other after a night of wolfiness. Knowing that Devon was home during the day, Oz made it a point to by in the afternoon when the singer could be found awake or at least easily awoken despite the big show of protest.

"It's probably the feeling of her not having her claws in your heart, man." Devon suggested with a grin quirking his lips, his dislike of Willow widely known.

"No…I don't know. But the way Buffy acted was odd, even for her."

"They're friends, right? And she was there, in the same place that you were caught last time, even if it was in any real compromising position. When you left, if anyone even looked at Willow for more than a minute, Buffy would stand guard daring anyone to say shit about your ex's disposition. Very intimidating girl." He commented.

"Buffy's always been protective of Willow." Oz nodded his agreement. What his friend related wasn't a huge surprise.

"So she felt bad. It's not unnatural even though you guys haven't done anything to feel guilty about." Devon paused, arching an eyebrow in suspicion. "Or have you?"

"Ofcourse not. Buffy and I don't… haven't. She doesn't wanted me." Oz stated quietly.

"Right." The older boy didn't seem convinced.

"What does *that* mean?"

"It means bullshit. A girl doesn't feel guilty about something like that unless there's something to feel guilt about." He explained.

"But it might not have been that kind of guilt…" Oz protested.

"There's only one kind guilt in a situation like that and it includes a certain blonde slayer having lusty naked thoughts about her best friend's ex and thinking she was caught with a modest show of affection towards him. Compounded guilt staring her right in the face." Devon shrugged. "I know these things, man. Trust me."

"You're wrong, Dev."

The leader singer studied his friend mindfully for a moment, then suggested. "Why don't you bring her here for a get together or something, and I'll get her drunk and find out for you?"

Oz gave him an incredulous look shaking his head to dismiss the idea.

The other boy shrugged. "Suit yourself. Live with all your inner turmoil even when you don't have to."

~~~

How the hell am I supposed to believe what he says though? I mean, this is Devon. He knows girls, but he doesn't really know them. He especially doesn't know any girl like Buffy. She's like a gender of her own, except when she's being all girlie. Or when she's all tough, fighting some super evil demon. She's just different from every other girl I've ever known.

We haven't talked about Willow since that morning. Ok, we have, but only lame passing comments, no life shattering information though. Buffy seems a little odd since her conversation with Willow. Yeah, I know she's already a little strange but even more so. I know she's seen Willow since then, and she didn't come to stay with me for the other two nights of the full moon, which were admittedly a little more rowdy than the first when she was there.

Willow. Her mom probably loves Riley. Joe-Normal jock type guy who entered the army as barely a man and is now in control of his destiny. Parents like that. Especially if the last boyfriend was a musician they really didn't like.

By the way, while I totally shot down Devon's suggesting of bringing Buffy over for him to find out what she's feeling, which in my opinion would be pointless, I've just exited the liquor store. Yeah, I know I should be ashamed of even thinking that I might get Buffy drunk but…I can't help it. It's not like I plan on doing it tonight, I just want the option there. In case I get too frustrated. Or because I need to drink myself into oblivion because she brings home a guy before I move out. So now, I'm on my way home. Home. I live there, even of only temporarily, right? So I can call it home. I'm hoping I won't need tequila shots today. But who knows.

~~~

Music could be heard streaming out of the windows along with some off tune singing that sounded female. While he'd heard Buffy humming before, he wasn't sure he'd ever heard her singing, apparently with good reason. The slayer couldn't carry a tune to save her life. Guess it's good she uses stakes and stuff, he mused. If the lyrics were any indication, whoever wrote the song was probably on crack.

~And I never knew before, but I feel like a child in a cold, cold war So
~strong, so tough, sitting in suburbia waiting for the wind-up And I
~don't wanna dance, I just wanna jump from the prison of circumstance
~Why am I thinking of you and me and the labour of love
 

As he neared the door, he heard a familiar low male chuckle that was familiar from his day's events. Devon. Bastard.

~Why do I feel like I can never find you
~Why do I feel like I'm the only survivor
~Why am I thinking of you and me and the labour of love

Digging quickly through his pockets, the spare key Buffy had given him was not findable. Cringing, Oz tried to turn the knob then reluctantly rang the doorbell. A loud 'Shh' could be heard which he assumed was Buffy, then suddenly the door in front of him was open and a gasping Buffy almost knocked him over when she bounded into his arms, a distinct smell of alcohol on her. A huge relieved sigh seemed to emanate from her as she ardently inhaled his smell. Uneagerly, she pulled away from him but took firm hold of his hand as she pulled him into the house.

"It's Oz." She informed the household as she pulled the man in question to the living room, smiling.

His eyes scanned the room efficiently, finding Willow with her back to him, sitting on the floor and Devon on the complete other side of the couch. With a quick glare at his best friend, he turned down the stereo, and turned back to see Buffy bouncing on the couch between her friend and his, acting like a buffer. A drunken buffer named Buffy.

"Oz," she said in a quiet, conspirator voice as if the others in the room wouldn't hear her, "We're having a party to find a way for Willow and Devon to get along. Your best friend and my best friend. They should be able to be in the same room together, right?"

"Ahh." Oz nodded his understanding, then shot a questioning look at his friend, who merely shrugged.

"We're just getting started though. Nothing big has happened yet, so you get to join in on the fun." She said enthusiastically, a genuine happiness in lit her eyes.

"Lucky me" he murmured and seated himself across from the trio.  Looking at Willow, he noticed her smiling uncomfortably. Giving her a reassuring smile, he looked back the blonde who was staring at him dreamily.

"And have you offered our guests a drink?"

"Well, Devon brought his own drink and Willow…" she paused for a moment, her eyes clouding in confusion, then cleared. "I gave my Wills some water, cause she can't drink alcohol. She has a Commando in the oven." Giggling at her joke, she leaned over and planted a loud smooch on the top of the witch's head.

His head snapped towards the redhead, who nodded shyly.

"Well, that’s good news. Say Devon, why don't you join me in the kitchen?" he asked pointedly.

Nodding, the other boy got up and head towards the kitchen, but was stopped by a strong hand wrapping around his wrist. Leaning over the back of the couch, he listened as Buffy whispered something in his ear, as Oz glared at the two.

"Sure thing, babe." He said loud enough for Oz to overhear. Lips smacking on skin and a second later they were both behind the counter watching the two girls as Willow turned to face Buffy.

"Devon, what did I tell you earl…" Oz started, his jaw clenched in annoyance.

"I swear, man, I had nothing to do with this. I was driving by and I saw her spinning around on the front lawn about half an hour ago, and thought I'd help her get inside before she got attacked or reported to the cops. Her roommate wasn't here and she wasn't really happy about having to be inside so I thought I'd stay until someone got here. Willow came by about ten minutes ago, and just before you came in I was trying to leave but Buffy decided she wanted to serenade someone. I'm supposed to tell her if she can sing good enough to be in a band." Shuddering at the thought, Devon shook his head vigorously.

Having heard the singing, Oz sympathized with his friend "Then how the hell did she get drunk like that?"

"Beats me, dude. She was already like this."

Oz looked away, then rummaged through the fridge trying to find something form of explanation.

"Whatcha boys talking about?" Both guys jumped at the closeness of the voice.

"Drunk Slayers, and where they got their alcohol. Especially when legally they still can't buy their own."

Buffy's eyes rounded in shock. "Shhh, it’s a secret."

"No one's supposed to know where you got drunk?"

She looked at him like he was insane, then she wrapped her arms around the wolf's waist. "No, silly. No one's supposed to know I'm -- the -- Slayer." She said slowly.

"Then where did you get the drink?" Oz pushed, hoping to get an answer this time.

Her eyes scrunched while she thought back an hour or so. "Spike and I were playing a game. It was SUPPOSED to be pretend alcohol, but then I found out that Spike spiked the spiked juice. I gave him a big piece of my mind. The he left and I was all alone, but then Devon showed up" she said cheerily and threw herself into the other boy's arms, while looking back at Oz.

"How many glasses did you have?"

"Umm. A few more than a few."

The smaller boy looked tensely at the duo. Devon noticed the change in Oz and decided it was time to go.

"Hey, I have to get going," he pushed Buffy away gently, sighing slightly at her pout. "I'll give Willow a ride home." He added, muttering something softly to himself.

"Fine." Rolling her eyes, she let go of him and went to consult with her friend, tripping over the back of the couch, landing half on Willow.

"Devon?" Buffy sing-songed from the living room.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Do you promise not to hurt Willow on the way home? We need to keep her safe like she's two people. Can you handle that?"

"I think I can." He assured her.

"Ok." Turning back to Willow, she helped her pregnant friend get up. "Call me if he does anything, ok? I'll beat him up for you!" she winked at her friend.

"I'll call you tomorrow." Willow stood an arm around Buffy's waist, a heavy weight from the slayer on her shoulder.

"You should probably get her to bed." She suggested to Oz as he and Devon came to the door.

"I don't wanna go to sleep. I'm not tired." As Devon moved to get past her, she planted her arm against the other wall, her head tilted to look him in the eye. "No leaving without a hug."

Devon's arms swooped around her waist, earning him a squeal when he turned quickly and deposited her on the other side, with a clear path to the door for him.

"Night guys." He said, with a meaningful look at Oz then ushered Willow quickly out the door.

Oz watched his ex-girlfriend and friend get into the car, giving them a slight wave then shut the door, firmly locking it. Taking a deep breath, he turned to find Buffy standing/leaning heavily on the wall, a disappointed look gracing her features.

"No more fun. Everyone's gone." She pouted, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

Moving to share the wall space, he tipped her head up with a crooked finger. "And who am I? Nobody?" he asked with a mock hurt look.

"No, No, No." she gasped, throwing her arms around his neck. "You're my favoritist boy in the world." She confided to his ear.

Pulling back he brushed some errant strands of hair away from Buffy's brilliant eyes. Wide and beautiful brown, her eyes held a tiny amount of glaziness as she looked at him as if trying to bore into his mind and soul through his eyes. Oz closed his eyes for a moment, and kept them closed when he felt her wet lips brush against his cheek moving towards his mouth.

Exhaling a deep breath, he prepared himself for the feel of her lips on his. When it happened, though, he gasped loudly, unprepared for the wonderful feeling of Buffy's tongue just sliding between his lips, wetting them. His hands came up to cradle her face, wanting to make him a participant in the kiss. When he returned the caress with his tongue, he felt her shiver her hands coming up to grab the front of his shirt.

Their tongues met on mutual ground, entwining, playfully sparring, as both of them leaned into each other. Eventually, though, they had to breathe.

Pulling away panting, Oz rested his forehead against hers feeling her own ragged breath against his cheek.

"Oz?" she whispered her voice deeper than he'd ever heard.

"Yeah?"

"I feel a little dizzy." Buffy whimpered. "And icky."

Swallowing harshly, he pulled away from her completely before wrapping one of his arms around her waist and leading her towards the bathroom.

They made it just in time. As she sank down to her knees the first wave of sickness hit her hard with a groan. Sinking down beside her, Oz drew up her t-shirt to caress her bare back soothingly.

Buffy shakily walked out of the bathroom half an hour later, with Oz a step behind holding her arm.

"Do you want to go to bed?" he asked as she stood at the bottom of the steps, eyeing them dubiously.

She shook her head carefully "Couch, please." Making her way to the couch slowly, she pushed Oz down into the corner and sank down beside him, her head falling into his lap.

Brushing her wet hair away from her face, he heard her mutter a weak statement, then sighed semi-contentedly. "Just for a few minutes."

~~~

I woke up on top of her. The clock on the VCR glowed 4:30am, a tiny ember outside signaling the coming of the dawn. Awareness slowly sank through my sleepy haze. My lips were lightly nuzzling the side of her neck, and I had one knee wedged between her thighs when I realized what was happening in our sleep. My hands were oddly placed. I had one hand that seemed to have found its way up underneath the t-shirt and was secured between the cloth and her breast. The other hand was trapped between the couch and her panty-clad butt. Her legs were entwined with mine; her arms were wrapped securely around my waist. For a second, it was like I was back in my dream, as she was placing similar strategic wet kisses on my neck and shoulder.

I remember waking up a few hours earlier and noticed she had divested herself of everything but her bra and panties, and as I took off my T, I promised myself that I'd get up in a minute and carry her to bed. Obviously that didn't quite happen.

I knew I should move, but you can see how it might've been more tempting not to, right?

My hand spasmed around her breast that moment, and I heard a low moan against my ear and felt her arch into my hand, tightening her arms around my waist. 'I should really wake her up before something happens' is what was going through my mind as my lips pressed firmly against hers. Her lips parted without coaxing and the only I could do was sweep my tongue into her warm, wet mouth and mate with her tongue that she gave me willingly.

Here I was, kissing the one person I wanted more than anything, anyone, and somehow all of my previously possessed control seemed to have flown out the window. My hands shifted; one going behind her head to hold her there, other caressed her neck, shoulder and came to rest on one silk covered breast. Then my mind seized to function. Pulling away from her lips, my teeth nibbled at one hardened nipple through the lace, then the other, reveling in her verbal response to my touch. Her hands coming to thread through my hair, my hands had lowered with the rest of me and one had found its way into her panties as my fingers teasingly touched her. She arched gravely and gasped as one finger slicked over her clit.

What the fuck am I doing? Right, well, I know what I'm doing but…. Why? I pull away from her and she whimpers her dismay, her hands tugging me down by the belt of my jeans. Lifting my head, I see her open eyes, her lips slightly parted as quick little breaths are expelled.

She knows what's going on, and seems to be consenting to it….

Then suddenly my mouth is over hers again, and she's sucking my bottom lip between her teeth nibbling on it. Groaning, I press my body into hers, my hands coming to her shoulders to divest her of the bra. Her hands move down my chest, grabbing the fastening of my jeans, then she arches into my very hard erection as my mouth makes its way to the area where her neck and shoulders meet, and I suck the delicious skin into my mouth.

I wore button down jeans yesterday for some reason, so now she's struggling with trying to get at least more than one button undone to shimmy the pants off of me. I'd help but I loathe to leave all this bare skin unattended to. Besides, she'd probably protest and…ohhh.

What do buttons matter when you have supernatural strength going for you. The tearing sound makes her giggle against my shoulder. I hear her mutter something that sounds like 'sorry', but it's not like I actually care. I have other pants.

There's a sound that comes from somewhere I can't distinguish, and again, I don't care. I move down and my tongue circles the hardened flesh around the nipple I'm teasingly avoiding, and I feel her hand bury into my boxers and press against my aching flesh.

A loud laugh shocks both into gasping awareness.  Loud footsteps coming towards us.

'I knew if I got a little drink into the chit she'd loosen up.' The blond vampire drawls, grinning evilly as he watches us, especially Buffy, whose body is flaming hot with embarrassment right now. Not that I don't know how she feels but it has happened before to me. "Wait til I tell your mum." He laughs again. "Oh poor Joyce'll be so devastated."

A second later, I'm falling on the floor, and Buffy's over the couch, kicking Spike in the stomach. Not expecting it, he grunts from the impact and is forced to deal with many quick blows all over the body.

The mood is broken when Buffy turns back to me, a perplexed look masking her beautifully flushed face. "I'm sorry" she whispers, mortified, and bolts upstairs into her room, slamming the door shut.

Spike seems to have survived the attack and goes to say something, but resists when he sees my death stare, giving me an unperturbed shrug, and heads to his own bedroom.

So I'm left alone again to think. I know Buffy didn't have a problem with what was going until Spike showed up.

We really need to *talk*. Something we seem to have been doing, yet avoiding all at once. I think I'll wait until her hangover's gone.