“Yes, Will,” Xander replied, bowing deeply.

“Xander, quit screwing around!” she hissed, her features contorting in a glare. “Willow doesn’t understand what we are. What they are. We need to show her. She doesn’t know that she’s ruining her life with that Oz moron. God, he doesn’t even know how to change the tone of his voice. She needs someone with vitality and passion.”

“She needs me,” Xander offered.

“Yes. Well, no. Not you. Him. The other you. The alive version of Xander Harris,” Willow said. She was frustrated. “God, how come everyone can see it but the two of them?”

“I think he knows,” Xander began. She looked at him. “Can’t you feel how his blood races when she’s near?”

“Yeah, so what? Her blood does the same thing.”

“Haven’t you ever seen how he looks at her?”

Playing devil’s advocate, she countered with, “She looks at him the same way.”

Getting frustrated, Xander’s face slipped into the demon mask. “Damn it, Willow, listen to me!” Willow stopped and stared at him, thrilled with his anger. “There’s nothing in his way. There’s nothing to stop him from realizing how much he loves her. It’s that damn Oz person that keeps her from seeing it. He knows. She doesn’t. She still thinks she needs the musician. It’s her we have to convince, not him. He already knows.”

“Then why are you standing here analyzing instead of. . . persuading her?” Willow asked coyly. She leaned over and kissed him passionately, and he hissed. “Just don’t get too physical when you’re persuading her.”

“Jealous, Wills?” He grinned. She scowled.

“Of myself? Of course not,” she scoffed.

“She’s not you, Willow,” he reminded her as he turned around and walked away.

“How can I forget?” she muttered. “I died to be with you, Xander Harris. She’s throwing away your love like it’s nothing. We are not the same.”