Those three little words are so simple, yet so loaded with meaning and emotion. How was I supposed to know that the first time I would ever say them and mean them, they would break my heart? Most people think that love is wonderful and exciting and that being in love means they’ll be happy for the rest of their lives. After loving her and suffering her rejection, I know that’s not true. Will I ever be able to move from under this black cloud of pain that I’ve known since I discovered how I felt? Sometimes I think that my punishment is the torture I’ve endured since that day in the hospital when everything became crystal clear.

“Xander, hello, is anyone there?” Willow teases in her enthusiastic voice, her eyes sparkling with mirth and mischief.

I come out of my musings to look at the redheaded beauty that’s been hiding herself in plain view for the last seventeen years. “Yeah, Will, I’m here. Well, most of me,” I amend when I realize I’m not entirely telling the truth.

“So, where’s the rest?” she mocks lightly, her lips quirking in a grin. I stare at those soft lips that I’ve dreamed of kissing thousands of times in the last two months.

“Don’t know,” I lie. I hate lying to her, but I can’t tell her the truth.

“Oh, come on, Xand. You always tell me everything,” she pleads childishly. “Well, you did until you suddenly had Cordelia to run to,” she adds quietly, an uncharacteristic note of resentment entering her lilting voice.

“Don’t bring Cordy into this. None of it is her fault,” I say harshly. Truth is, it’s not my burning desire to protect Cordy that prompts my short-tempered retort, it’s my reluctance to think of my beautiful, sometimes snotty, sometimes surprisingly considerate girlfriend when I’m with Willow.

“You always snap at me when she gets brought up,” Willow complains bitterly.

“Cordy represents another part of my life,” I try to explain. It’s hard voicing the thoughts that have tangled themselves up in my mind time and time again. “You represent another part. Sometimes, a lot of times, the two of you get mixed up with each other. But I don’t want you thinking that Cordy means more to me than you do. No one will ever take your place.”

Willow’s eyes soften with happiness and I melt. No one could ever have made me believe that the sight of something as simple and uncomplicated as Willow’s smile would make me turn to mush. Not too long ago, I was chasing after drop-dead gorgeous women who wouldn’t give me the time of day, and I ignored the precious jewel that was there for me every time I needed her. No one could have told me how it would shatter me to know she didn’t love me like I love her.

“So, when is Oz going to come home?” I ask quickly, before I can become mired down in the depressing thoughts that rule my life these days. Not that I really care about her boyfriend, but he makes her happy. So I should be happy for her, even though I wish more than anything that I could be the one to put that smile of love on her lips.

“I don’t know,” she responds quietly, letting her fingers whisper lightly across the top of my bedspread. “He called last week and said he might be getting a contract extension. Something like that. The Dingoes are getting really popular, and the band’s manager wants to extend their tour.”

I recall the day that Willow burst into my room, crying her eyes out, sniffling nearly incoherently that Oz was leaving. It was about a week after she was released from the hospital after the vampire attack that led to Buffy’s disappearance. Oz had known for some time that he and the band would be doing a promotional tour on the East Coast. He had explained to us that the Dingoes had done a demo tape and were picked up by some recording label, and had been asked to do a tour. They’d left not quite a week later, and so it had just been Willow and me all summer, since Buffy ran away and Cordy was on vacation in Europe.

“I’m sorry, Wills,” I reply sincerely. I know she misses her lycanthropically-challenged boyfriend. Her pain has always been, but more so lately, mine.

“It’s okay,” she assures me, somewhat unconvincingly. I stare at her and start to open my big mouth when she stops me. “Really, Xander. It hurt so badly when he left, but I’ve had time to adjust. And I have to admit that I like things like this. They’re simple. No Buffy, though I’m still worried sick about her, no Cordelia, no Oz. Just you and me, the way it used to be. And maybe I’m a horrible, hateful person to think like this, but sometimes I wish that it would stay like this. Cordy stay in Europe, Oz stay on his tour, and Buffy letting us know that she’s alive but living permanently in L.A. or something.”

“Really?” I ask with interest. I know I myself have longingly looked back on the days before our lives go so caught up in Buffy and vampires, Cordy and Oz. But then I never would have understood how much I love Willow.

“Yeah,” she admits, looking away. “Hey,” she begins uncomfortably, “let’s go find something to do. It’s getting boring just sitting here in your bedroom.”

“I remember a time when you were happy just spending all your time here, with me,” I remind her, hurt.

“Things have changed,” she defends herself. “We can’t go back.”

No, I admit to myself reluctantly. We can’t.

My mind drifts, as it invariably does, to the night when I found myself at Willow’s bedside in the hospital. I had never known terror as I did the moment that the doctor told me Willow might not live. Sure, we had all been involved in some terrifying escapades, some of them endangering Willow as much as she was then, but never had I been in a situation where I was in perfect safety while she had already been hurt. I remember watching her motionless face, her unresponsive lips and eyes, and feeling an abject misery that I was aware of every waking moment. I even ignored Cordy as much as I was able. Her comments and gestures of support were virtually ignored, and have left no imprint on my memory. All I was aware of was Willow.

And as I pleaded with her to live, to come back to me, another awareness slowly rose to a conscious level. I avoided saying the words, knowing that would make it too real. I instead focused on how much I needed her in my life. And then, I couldn’t deny them. I said the words that had been in the back of my mind for a long time.

“I love you.”

I say them aloud to myself now, as the pain rushes back and consumes me with more intensity than I have ever felt. Tears pool in the corners of my eyes and I blink them away. “Willow, I love you so much,” I whisper to myself fiercely. Hearing them spoken aloud in an otherwise silent room make them stand out that much more. And I re-live the agony I felt as my heart was ripped to shreds when she responded to my declaration with a twitch of her hand, and then the questioning, reassured voice saying, “Oz?”

I have never known such intense grief as that which I felt in the next few weeks, realizing how I had let the most precious thing in my life slip away from me. My mind flashes on little moments with Willow that should have told me what was there all along. Our near-kiss the night Buffy came back, just before junior year. I couldn’t explain the attraction I had felt for her at that time, nor could I understand the intense desire I had to hold her to me and kiss her passionately. Then there was my threatening to kill Buffy if her actions had caused Willow to be harmed. I had thought myself in love with Buffy, but at the slightest threat to Willow I turned on her. All the little things. The jealousy I felt when she started seeing Oz. They all should have clued me in to what my heart knew, but my head stubbornly ignored.

The radio switches from my standard country-for-moping to a slow, romantic ballad. I recognize it as a Celine Dion song and reach to change the station when the lyrics register. Tears stream down my face when I realize it’s the song that Willow dedicated to me at the first dance of our sophomore year, a couple weeks before Buffy moved here. She told me later that she always thought of me when that song played, for it was what she felt in her heart about me.

“You’re the bravest of hearts, you’re the strongest of souls
You’re my light in the dark, you’re the place I call home
You can say it’s all right, but I know that you’re breaking up inside
I see it in your eyes
Even you face the night afraid and alone
That’s why I’ll be there”

I cry silently when I think for the thousandth time of what I had and didn’t hold on to. I was everything to her. She adored me. I was her best friend and I pushed her away when she needed me, but she never failed me. Not once.

“When the storm rises up, when the shadows descend
Ev’ry beat of my heart, ev’ry day without end
Ev’ry second I live, that’s the promise I make
Baby that’s what I’ll give, if that’s what it takes
If that’s what it takes”

The lyrics remind me that she would have given me anything. She did, in fact. She gave me herself time and time again, and I threw that precious gift right back in her face.

“You can sleep in my arms, you don’t have to explain (baby)
When your heart’s crying out, baby, whisper my name
‘Cause I’ve reached out for you when the thunder is crashing up above
You’ve given me your love
When you smile like the sun that shines through the pain
That’s why I’ll be there”

Why didn’t I get it when I heard that song? I should have known, if I just would have listened. But dumb old Xander, of course he didn’t listen. He never did.

“When the storm rises up, when the shadows descend
Ev’ry beat of my heart, ev’ry day without end
I will stand like a rock, I will bend till I break
Till there’s no more to give, if that’s what it takes
I will risk everything, I will fight, I will bleed
I will lay down my life, if that’s what you need
Ev’ry second I live, that’s the promise I make
Baby, that’s what I’ll give, if that’s what it takes”

I cry harder when I think of just how wonderful and special and rare a friend like Willow is. She would have given her life for me. There have been many times when she’s tried. I know she would be devastated to live in a world without me, just as I would be to live in a world without her. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met. It sickens me to think it takes a loser like me to break her.

“Through the wind and the rain, through the smoke and the fire
When the fear rises up, when the wave’s ever higher
I will lay down my heart, my body, my soul
I will hold on all night, and never let go
Ev’ry second I live, that’s the promise I make
Baby, that’s what I’ll give, if that’s what it takes
If that’s what it takes
Every day
Whatever it takes
If that’s what it takes
Whatever, whatever, whatever it takes”

The last haunting strains fade away and I shut the radio off. I’ve lost the love I’ve been waiting all my life to find. Every day of my life I’ll live with the memory that I was the one to hurt her beyond measure, and it’s my fault that I can’t have her.

Part Three The phone rings, startling me from my mental anguish. I pick up the receiver, already knowing that the bright, laughing voice on the other end will be Willow’s.

“Hey, Xander’s Morgue. Today we’re having a special; free spackling for bullet victims,” I say with a forced cheerfulness.

“Xander, you are such a loser,” Willow teases playfully. Though she is the source of my agony, I still smile at the sound of her musical voice.

“I know, but that’s why you love me, right? Terminal loserness?” I joke off-handedly.

“Of course,” she promises in mock seriousness. “Hey, guess what?” she continues in a deliriously happy tone.

“Um, Giles has given up tweed?” I guess wildly, knowing that the only time Giles will not be wearing tweed is at his own funeral. Even then he might specify he wants a tweed suit.

“Not likely,” she snorts. I’m fascinated by the sound. Maybe it’s because I’m biased, but even her snort sounds delicate to me. “Buffy’s back!”

My heart falls and I immediately curse myself. Buffy is one of my best friends. I should be ecstatic that she’s come home. But all I can think is that Willow’s and my special bond, that temporary sense of oneness, is gone. Buffy’s going to want her old spot back, and that spot is distinctly between Willow and me. Will and I were never as close as we were before Buffy uprooted our lives. “That’s great!” I respond with an upbeatness I don’t feel.

“Xander, Buffy’s return doesn’t mean you and I have to resume our old aloofness towards each other,” she assures me, with a perception that astounds me. I had forgotten how aware Willow always was about the feelings of others.

“That’s good, because I’ve gotten used to having you back, all to myself,” I admit with a frankness that I don’t usually employ. When it comes to deep feelings, I usually reserve them for myself and hide behind the “joker-boy” façade that I have all but perfected.

“Xander, I’m so glad that we’ve been able to be together this summer,” she tells me, somewhat shyly. “I missed you so much when she came here and we drifted apart.”

“Willow, you’re never going to lose me like that again,” I vow fiercely. “And I pray I’ll never lose you again.”

“Xander, I won’t let you,” she promises, just as fiercely.

“So, Buffy’s home,” I muse out loud. “I wonder what that means?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’ll find out what happened with Angel. I never figured out why she left, seeing as how Angel is good again and the world didn’t get swallowed up into hell,” Willow speculates.

“Maybe she wanted someone better for her than a 242 year old vampire,” I guess.

“Not likely,” Willow laughs. “I just don’t know what could have been so horrible that she had to have left.”

“Maybe Angel didn’t let her know he was good again,” I guess again. “She could have left thinking he was still evil and didn’t know the truth.”

“Yeah, but if that were true, she would have stuck around and tried to kill him,” Willow argues, decidedly in a devil’s-advocate style.

“Well, we might never know,” I acknowledge. “Maybe we should just leave it alone and hope she decides to tell us.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Willow agrees cheerfully. I know she’s excited that Buffy is coming home. Her only friend for the past few months has been me. While I know she’s happy that we’ve gotten close again, I also know she misses her girl-to-girl talks with Buffy. I just hope that my resentment of Buffy doesn’t affect Willow’s attitude towards her.

“So, are we going to actually see her tonight, or is she going to stay at home?” I inquire slowly. I’m not at all sure that I want to see her, but I feel I should ask. Willow might have made plans to meet later or something, and I want to be with her tonight.

“Do you want to see her?” Willow asks uncertainly. I know she’s desperate for us all to go back to being good friends. And I know how I’ve confided in her about my resentment that Buffy was irresponsible and ran off to God knows where without letting anyone know she was okay, and I also know she’s afraid that I won’t forgive Buffy. But I will. Because honestly, I don’t care about her actions as much as I used to. Willow’s my main preoccupation anymore.

“Sure,” I affirm. “When?”

“Well, I thought we could meet at The Bronze tonight. Say, around ten? That’ll give her time to okay things with her mom.”

“Sounds good to me,” I agree easily. Maybe a talk with Buffy can help me straighten out my messed-up feelings about Will. God, I hope so, because nothing else has worked yet.

“See you at ten,” Willow says as a good-bye, then hangs up the phone.

“See ya,” I reply to the airwaves that remain.

It’s later that evening, and I’m standing in front of my mirror, deciding what to wear. I don’t want to go with my usual wrinkled khakis, understanding that tonight is going to be special. I pull out some baggy black slacks and a black silk shirt and quickly get dressed. Buffy got me to buy them when she was out to improve my dressing style. I know she’ll think I’m wearing them for her, but honestly, I just want Willow to see me in a different light. Black has always been a good color on me, and I choose my clothes with the faint hope that she’ll take one look at me and realize what a stud I am. But then, Willow has never been caught up in looks, like I am.

The phone rings, and I pick up the receiver, saying, “Hey, Wills,” as I finish brushing my hair back.

“How’d you know?” Willow asks in a puzzled tone.

“Cordy’s in Europe, and Buffy is going to see me in half an hour,” I remind her. “Who else would call me?”

“Oh, right,” she giggles. “So, is your mom going to let you have the car?”

“Yep,” I affirm, spritzing on some of the cologne Willow gave me. “I’ll pick you up in ten.”

“Good. I know there really isn’t anything to worry about, but remember the last time Buffy came home? Vamps within minutes,” she recalls worriedly.

“I remember,” I assure her. “That’s why I asked for the car.”

“God, I’m so excited to see Buffy,” she says enthusiastically, switching tracks.

“Me too,” I say politely.

“Xander, something’s wrong,” she notes intuitively.

“Nothing that won’t be fixed by a night out with my two favorite gal pals,” I say grandly. “You know I can’t stay bummed when I’m with you and the Buffmeister.”

“I’m not buying that, but I’ll let you keep your secret until you’re ready to spill your guts,” she assures me.

“Yeah, like I’m going to spill,” I scoff. “I’m the master of secrets!”

“Yeah, right,” she snorts. Before I can protest, she continues with, “Well, I gotta finish getting ready. See you in a few?”

“See you in a few,” I confirm. I hang up the phone, reluctant to break contact with her, even though I know I’ll see her in just a few minutes. After a few finishing touches, I grab the car keys and head for the door. “See you later, Mom!” I call as I exit my house.

“Bye, hon!” she responds absent-mindedly. I shake my head and give a rueful sigh, knowing that she’ll never notice I’m gone.

A few minutes later I’m pulled up in front of Willow’s house, honking the horn. The only reason I even attempt it is that I know her parents are out of town for the week. She sticks her beautiful red head out the door and shushes me. “I do have neighbors, you know!” she cries in exasperation. She hurries out the door, grabbing her bag off the table in the front hall as she goes. I quickly get out, step around the car, and hold the door open for her. “How gallant you are, Mr. Harris,” she says airily, a snooty smile perched upon her kissable lips.

“My only aim is to serve the lady,” I reply with a stiff little bow and an insolent grin.

“Drive on,” she commands with a flick of her hand.

“Yes, m’ lady,” I concur, getting back behind the wheel and cruising in the general direction of The Bronze.

“Can you believe she’s finally back?” Willow asks, attempting conversation.

“I always knew she would be. The question was, when? This summer? Next? Five years from now? Ten?” I question bitterly.

Willow places her hand on my arm and I nearly lose control of the car. “Cat,” I lie sheepishly when she looks at me funny.

“Xander, you have to forgive her,” Willow pleads.

“I already have,” I tell her coldly. “I just don’t have much sympathy for her. She did what she felt she had to do, maybe, but I will always resent what she did to us. Buffy is one of my best friends, and she’s always helped us out, but she’s so incredibly selfish. She always thinks of how things affect her, but not anyone else. Maybe she spends her nights risking her life to keep others safe, but that’s her job. When it comes to how things might affect others, she doesn’t care. It’s always, ‘I’m scared,’ or ‘I might die.’ And maybe that sounds cold-hearted and unfeeling to you, but that’s the way I see things. She doesn’t see what this life of slaying things and researching demons has done to any of the rest of us,” I burst out angrily. The car is silent in the aftermath of my confession while Willow contemplates my words.

“Xander, why didn’t you ever tell me?” she asks quietly.

“Because I didn’t want to burden you with it or make you feel guilty,” I admit softly. “You’ve never had any real friends besides me and Jesse, and I didn’t want you to start resenting Buffy just because I did. Sure, I thought I was in love with her, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t see her faults. I just didn’t want you to side with me because you’ve known me longer.”

I pull up in front of The Bronze and kill the engine. She turns to me, a quiet look of understanding gracing her delicate features. “Do you still want to do this?” she inquires.

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” I allow. “Maybe only for you right now, but I’ll get through this. I’ll forgive her, and maybe I’ll even stop resenting her someday. But right now, it still stings that she abandoned us.”

“Well, you’re going to have the chance to brush up on your acting skills,” Willow promises, stepping out of the car. “She’s right over there, looking pretty anxious to see us.”

My head swivels in the direction she indicates, and I see a subdued, meek Buffy peering at us hopefully. My heart doesn’t melt like it used to when I saw her, but I soften in my anger. Walking towards her, I hold my arms open. She runs into them and hugs me tightly.

“Thank you, Xander. Thank you for forgiving me,” she whispers, her words muffled against my shirt.

I murmur comfortingly to her, knowing that what she needs now is acceptance and love. I can get around to berating her for her thoughtless actions later. What I don’t tell her is that in forgiving her, I can forgive myself for letting Willow get hurt. I look over the top of Buffy’s blond head to see Willow smiling at me gratefully, her eyes shiny with tears. That makes it all worth it.

“So, Xand, what’s up with you?” Buffy asks, leaning forward. After two hours of endless gabbing, Willow has finally taken a break and gone to the bar to get drinks, and it seems Buffy’s taking advantage of her absence. She gives me a quizzical, knowing stare, just waiting for me to burst.

“Nothing much,” I reply evasively, my betraying eyes following Willow’s form at the bar. “Just hanging out with Will. Cordy’s in Europe, like we said, and Oz is gone, so Willow and I have taken the time to bond again. Otherwise, dullsville as usual in our one-Starbucks town.”

Buffy doesn’t miss a thing. She watches me as I watch Willow. “No other. . . love interests popping up?” she queries innocently. “As I recall, you’ve had a whole lot of eager females all over you. I mean, there was Miss French, the praying mantis woman; Ampata, the Inca Mummy Girl; and, of course, once upon a time, the entire female population of Sunnydale. Nobody distracting you from Cordelia?”

“Of course not!” I blare frantically. I’d intended to tell her, but not in the vicinity of Willow. I don’t want her to guess and give out a whole bunch of innuendo-laden double entendres all evening. Willow might be oblivious to me, but she’s sharp enough to pick up hidden subtext. “Cordy is the best.”

“Yeah, but while the cat’s away, the mice will play,” she quotes insinuatingly.

Willow walks up and I frantically turn the conversation in a new direction. “Hey, isn’t that Angel over there?” I point out, indicating the tall, brooding vampire staring at Buffy with his heart on his sleeve, so to speak.

“Angel?” she croaks disbelievingly, her face turning white. She whirls to look in the direction I’ve pointed. If at all possible, her eyes get wider and her face paler. “It can’t be,” she murmurs. “I sent him to Hell. . .” She trails off and gets up, cautiously approaching her former lover.

I turn back to see Willow glaring ferociously at me. “What?” I demand. “I thought she’d be happy to see His Deadness.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know why she ran away. She still hasn’t told us. Did it ever occur to you that maybe Angel had something to do with her decision?” Willow queries bitingly, a sarcastic note evident in her voice.

“Will, I didn’t think. . .” I admit uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I thought she’d be glad to see him.”

“What can I expect?” she mutters. “You’re a guy.”

I utilize a line that I’ve employed many times before. “On behalf of my gender, hey!”

Willow giggles and shakes her head affectionately. “You just never learn,” she sighs, grinning.

“Willow, what made you wake up in the hospital?” I inquire abruptly. Cursing myself for my reckless outburst, I await her answer. It’s a question that I’ve pondered repeatedly in the confines of my own mind, but never once did I think I’d actually ask her.

She gives me a baffled glance before saying, “Someone said they loved me.” My heart swells, then shrivels when she adds, “My subconscious must have realized that I couldn’t leave Oz when he finally admitted how much he cared about me.” Totally Willow-like, she peers at me and says, “Xander, are you okay? You look like your heart’s been ripped out and stomped all over.”

Swallowing, I reply, “I swallowed an air bubble. It hurt like crazy.” I can’t believe how many times I’ve had to lie to her in the past few days. “Go ahead, keep talking.”

She stares at me curiously, then shrugs. “No one had ever told me they loved me before. Even my parents rarely say it. I knew I had to fight to come back to that person. And then I found Oz leaning over me, kissing my forehead. Y’know, that never really felt right,” she breaks off, looking puzzled.

“What didn’t feel right?” I prompt.

“Somehow I thought that it should be someone else, someone that wasn’t Oz. But that’s silly,” she berates herself, dismissing the idea. “No one besides Oz was in a position to love me.”

My heart aches as I long to tell her that isn’t the truth, that someone besides Oz does love her, and that person is the person she shared her childhood with, the guy sitting right across the table from her. Suddenly she looks at me, looks right into my eyes, with a profound sadness in hers, and shocks me beyond words.

“I don’t love Oz,” she confesses. “And he’s never said anything about loving me since then. Do you think he might have said it just because he thought I was going to die, and now he realizes that he doesn’t, but he doesn’t have the courage to tell me?”

“I think that’s something you’ll have to ask him,” I respond carefully. I don’t want her to go running back to him, but I don’t want to be over-eager about her rejecting him, either.

“I knew you’d say that,” she sighs disconsolately. “I hope he doesn’t, because then it won’t hurt him when we break up, but it would be nice to know that someone truly loves me,” she says wistfully.

Although I’d like nothing better than to make her wish come true, I know that now is not the time to break the news to her. Instead, I shift my attention to Buffy, who is now standing alone, staring out the door, presumably the one Angel recently exited through. “Looks like the Buffster needs some friendly companionship,” I note. Willow’s face drops when she realizes I’m going to ignore her plea. “Maybe we should go cheer her up with our wit.”

“You mean your wit,” Willow clarifies quietly. I nod in agreement, then stand up, extending a gentlemanly hand to her. She takes it and I help her up; then we both amble over to Buffy and attempt to cheer her up. Thankfully, it works like a charm, and we spend the next hour laughing and talking like she’s never left.

Three weeks later, the three of us are preparing for the return to school in one week’s time. While Buffy and I are depressed beyond measure, Willow is ecstatic to get back to her beloved books. In the meantime, I decide I don’t want to tell Buffy about my love for Willow. She needs to hear it first, and from me.

I roll over on my bed and gently pick up the picture of Willow that has its permanent home on my nightstand. She’s lying in my bed, curled up with one of my favorite stuffed animals, fast asleep. I took it a couple years ago. She’d been out all night with us, researching and subsequently fighting some demon force. She couldn’t sneak back home and didn’t want to call and wake up her parents, so I let her crash at my place. Mom never came home that night and wouldn’t have cared if she did. When Willow dropped from exhaustion, I carried her upstairs and tucked her in my bed. She looked so innocent and peaceful there that I knew I had to capture the moment forever, so I snapped her picture and burrowed into a sleeping bag on the floor. The next morning, when she woke up, it was like the perfect moment. On retrospect, it was another of those times that should have been an indicator light going off in my brain, the way it felt so right to have her wake up in my bed.

Again, as it has several times in the last few weeks, the ringing of my phone interrupts my self-inflicted torture. “Xander’s House of Love,” I drawl lazily into the phone, knowing it’s one of three people: Willow, who will giggle affectionately at my joke; Buffy, who will tease me for being such a doofus; or Cordelia, who will snap at me to grow up. Some things never change.

“Xander, you are such the terminal loser,” Buffy sighs into the phone. I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Always,” I promise severely. “So, Buffanator, how’s it with you?”

“Not much,” she replies evasively. “I was just wondering if you’d want to meet for a mid-morning talk?”

“So, you’re finally breaking down and are determined to lure me to your bed,” I predict with a touch of mock hopefulness. I don’t want her anymore, at least not in the girlfriend sense, but it never hurts to keep your options open.

“No, the last time I didn’t go to bed alone, it had a somewhat disastrous ending,” she reminds me quietly. I elect not to answer, ‘cause I know all Hell will break loose (metaphorically speaking, of course) if I launch into my favorite tirade.

“So, talk. Talk is good. When? Where?” I ask easily, bypassing the touchy elements of our conversation.

“I thought the park, in about twenty minutes,” she responds.

“Um, may I remind you,” I interject, “Vampires? They like the park? Lots of people have died there?”

“Xander, daylight? Causes mass eruptions of flames on a vampire when they come in contact with it? I don’t think they’ll bother us at this time of day,” she shoots back with a giggle.

“Oh, right. Daylight. The great eliminator of all things vampiric. So, the park, twenty minutes. See ya then,” I confirm.

“See ya,” she agrees, then hangs up. I do as well, then get out of bed and get dressed.

Twenty minutes later I’m sitting on the swing set, waiting for Her Slayerness to show up. “Hey Xan, glad you could make it,” she greets me as she walks up. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“So you said when you invited me to participate in this clandestine meeting,” I reply. I take the moment to peruse her petite frame in the tight shorts and low-cut tank top. Nope. Nothing. I’m still thinking of a cute little redhead in her favorite overalls with her hair in two pigtails.

“I wanna know what’s up with you and Will,” she says, getting directly to the point.

“What makes you think anything’s up?” I query warily.

“Just because I know you, and I’ve seen the way you act around her. In the last three weeks, I’ve watched you,” Buffy admits. I quirk my eyebrow at her, and she does the same to me. “Platonically, Hormone Boy. Does everything have to have sexual innuendo with you?”

“Makes life more interesting,” I quip.

“Whatever,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Anyway, I know that you love her. It’s pretty easy to tell. It’s so obvious in your eyes when you look at her.”

“If it’s so obvious, how come she can’t see it?” I ask despondently, not even bothering to deny it. Buffy’s too observant to try and lie my way out.

“The only thing I can guess is that she’s struck with the same problem you were,” she admits, shrugging.

“Me? What do you mean?” I ask, confused.

“You couldn’t see it when she loved you. Now she can’t see how much you love her,” Buffy enlightens me.

“She loved me?” I’m truly astounded. I never knew. I thought she always thought of me as her best friend, Xander, and I always felt the same about her. Of course, if my feelings were always in the back of my mind, waiting to be realized, who’s to say that she didn’t have the same feelings for me? She just saw hers before I ever thought about mine. . .

“Xander, the girl worshipped you,” Buffy clarifies. I stare at her, dumbfounded.

“How could I have not seen it?” I whisper. It’s clear to me now, all those times when her face expressed her pain and I either didn’t notice or didn’t understand why she was unhappy. It makes sense why she was so angry that I started dating Cordelia, instead of being happy that Cordy and I managed to get together despite all our differences. She saw all along that she belongs to me, and that my soul is hers to command. She knew, way before I did, that we are part of each other. “Buffy, what have I done?” I question, agonized. “I threw away the most precious thing I ever had. I love her so much,” I admit, finally, out loud. Buffy smiles happily. “I need her. I never told anyone, but I’m the one that told her I loved her at the hospital. She woke up and called out for Oz. My heart broke to hear her say that one word when I had just opened my eyes to what she was, what I had.”

“Xander, you haven’t lost her,” Buffy assures me. I shake my head.

“She’s Oz’s girlfriend now,” I remind her.

“That doesn’t mean jack,” she insists. “Willow loves you. She always has and I know she always will. You two are part of each other. You need to tell her.”

“She’ll hate me,” I agonize. “She’s happy with Oz. She doesn’t want me intruding.”

“She doesn’t love Oz,” Buffy cries. “She loves you. Tell her, Xander, before it really is too late.”

I look at Buffy, my heart filling with hope. “Do you think I have a chance?” I whisper painfully. “I just couldn’t stand to lose her again.”

“Tell her,” she repeats. “You’ll lose her for sure if you don’t.”

It’s the day before school, and I’m full of anticipation. Not because school is starting, ‘cause that would never happen, but because it’s finally the day that I’m going to tell Willow how I feel. I’ve been rehearsing it for the last week, trying to perfect my opening and how I’ll deliver the information. I know practice on me equals disaster; my attempt to ask Buffy to the Spring Fling is proof enough of that, but I can’t just stumble around with this. My heart is on the line with Willow. If she rejects me, I won’t be able to bounce back like I did with Buffy.

The doorbell rings and I tense, knowing that Will is on the other side of it. I asked her to come over today so we could do our annual today-is-the-last-day-of-summer-tomorrow-is-the-first-day-of-school pep talk. It actually consists of Willow promising me that I won’t fail, due mostly to Willow’s doing my homework and tutoring me. What she doesn’t know is that today’s talk will have nothing to do with school starting tomorrow.

Leaning out my window, I holler, “Hey Will! Door’s open; come on up.” A few seconds later, light footsteps can be heard ascending the stairs to my room. Willow sticks her head in my room, her adorable face lit up with excitement, her lips quirked into an enthusiastic grin.

“Hey there, ready for your pep talk?” she inquires, coming all the way into my room and depositing herself on my bed.

“Well, I’m ready for a talk, but not about school,” I begin. I have to choose my words carefully. I don’t want to rush this or just blurt it out, but then again I don’t want to belabor the issue to where she gets impatient to hear what I have to say.

“Well then, what about?” she asks quizzically.

“I don’t know,” I lie. Damn, I’m lying to her way too often. Hopefully soon I’ll never have to lie to her again. Of course, there’s always the chance that it will be because I’ll never be allowed to speak to her again, but that’s the chance I have to take. “Have you heard anything about Oz?” I start off. If I’m lucky, he won’t be coming back. He’ll get an indefinite extension on his tour contract and he’ll be out of the way forever. But then, that’s too easy, and I’m not that lucky.

“Yeah, he called yesterday. He’s getting back sometime next month. The band’s been asked to start doing their first CD, so they’re thinking about relocating to L.A. That way they won’t have to drive so much,” she informs me. Her tone is slightly less than happy, but more than depressed. I take that for as much as it’s worth, which, to me, is a lot.

“So, what are you guys going to do?” I inquire hesitantly. “Keep up the whole relationship, or go your separate ways?”

“We don’t know yet. We’ve agreed to take it one day at a time. Oh, by the way, I got up the courage to ask him about that day in the hospital. He admitted that he didn’t tell me he loved me. We talked about it for a while, and we decided that neither one of us has to love the other. Right now we enjoy being with each other, and that’s enough for us,” she sighs. I know instinctively that she’s not okay with it. Her soul is crying for the love that she deserves.

I question her words. “Is it enough?”

Her face crumbles. “No, Xander, it’s not!” she chokes, holding back tears. “I’m like any other normal girl. I want a real relationship, not someone who’s living so far away and has this whole other different life that I can’t even begin to understand. I want someone who I can share my thoughts and feelings with, who knows what I’m thinking before I do, someone who loves me. Why is that so hard?” she sobs.

My heart breaks to see her so unhappy. I gather her in my arms and hold her close while she cries, rocking her and kissing her forehead. “It’s okay, Wills, I’m right here. I’m not leaving,” I promise. Her tears subside and she sits back, looking sheepish.

“Sorry for breaking down on you,” she apologizes, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, wiping away a light trail of mascara from her cheeks.

“Willow.” I take a deep breath and look into her questioning eyes. “Don’t you know you already have that person that knows you better than you know yourself? You should know by now that there’s someone just a heartbeat away who you can tell anything and everything.”

She smiles weakly. “But you don’t love me, Xander. Not like I need to be loved.”

“Do you remember telling me that it didn’t feel right that Oz should be the one to say he loved you?” I inquire, taking a different approach. “You said it should have been someone else.”

“Yeah, but I know why now. It’s because it wasn’t Oz,” she reminds me.

“Willow, don’t you remember who else was in the room when you woke up?” I ask softly.

“No. All I could focus on was Oz. I was so foggy I didn’t know anything except Oz was right there, right when I needed him,” she admits.

“Someone else was there. Willow,” I begin, taking a deep breath and looking directly into her eyes, “I was in the room. Sitting next to your bed, holding your hand and praying to whatever God would listen that you would come back to me. I begged you to wake up. Willow, I knew then what I had never been able to realize before.” As she absorbs this information, I drop the bomb. “Willow, I’m the one that told you he loved you.”

Her eyes widen, and a touch of uncertainty is evident. “Xander. . .”

“Willow, I have been struggling with this for the last three months,” I continue quietly. “I’ve been living in agony. I relive every moment I ever spent with you that should have told me what was there all along. Every night I go to sleep with your voice in my ears, and every morning I wake up with your name on my lips. I’ve suffered all the torment of the damned when I remember confessing my love for you, only to hear you respond to it and then call out Oz’s name. I love you more than I ever could have imagined. And it’s been breaking my heart to hold you at arm’s length when all I’ve been wanting to do is hold you tight and never let go.”

Willow’s mouth is slightly parted, and she seems incapable of speech.

It’s sudden death time. The moment that will make me the happiest man on earth, or the moment that will send me to hell. “Willow, Buffy told me you once loved me. Do you still?”

Willow looks at me, not quite able to speak. “Xander, I never stopped loving you,” she reveals slowly. She looks shocked, like she hasn’t been able to process everything I’ve told her. “I hurt like crazy when I found out about you and Cordelia. And I’ve never been able to replace the memory of my love for you with Oz. He knows that. But I’ve placed you on a shelf. It’s like I put you up so high I couldn’t get to you without a ladder. And now you’re asking me to jump right off the floor and grab it. Xander, I love you, I promise you that. But I need time to adjust. Give me a day or two to think about this,” she pleads.

“All right. Don’t rush this. Willow, I need you in my life. If I lost you it would destroy me. Come to me on your own terms, when you know what you’re feeling and thinking. Then we can move on, hopefully together. Will you promise me that you’ll stay my friend, no matter what?” I demand urgently. “I need you, in whatever capacity you’ll allow me to have you.”

She smiles, the love shining in her eyes. “Xander, you’ll never be able to get rid of me,” she says. She places a hand on mine, holding on to me tightly. She then touches my face, gently, reverently. Then she gets up, turns around, and leaves, taking my heart with her as she goes.

The next morning, for the first time since we’ve been friends, I don’t accompany Willow to our first day of the new school year. Instead, I tag along with Buffy to the concentration camp run by Commandant Snyder, otherwise known as Sunnydale High and principal. As we stroll onto the campus, we both spot Willow unobtrusively slipping inside the school. She’s the only person we know that would go inside ten full minutes before classes start.

“Looks like Willow’s getting an early start,” Buffy observes.

“She’s probably just looking to be away from me,” I sigh.

“She not take the news well?” Buffy interprets sympathetically.

“I don’t know. She told me she loves me with one breath and then told me to leave her alone with the next,” I admit, frustrated.

“Give her time, Xan,” Buffy urges. “This had to have come as a shock to her. She’s probably just overwhelmed that her love hasn’t been in vain and she doesn’t know how to respond.”

“You’re right,” I concede, “but that doesn’t make it easier for me to watch her avoid me.”

“Things’ll work out, Xander,” Buffy promises. After a few minutes of inane conversation, we head off to our classes, each calling out a farewell and a promise to get together for lunch.

As the day goes by, I see little of Willow. In the classes we share, she sits on the opposite side of the room. In the halls, she avoids me. I see her a few times chatting with Buffy, or some of the kids she taught last year in Ms. Calendar’s computer science class, but whenever she sees me she turns around, or wanders in the opposite direction. It’s more painful than I thought, but I don’t seek her out. I know she needs this time for herself.

Finally, the day is over, and just as I’m about to leave, Buffy calls out to me. “Hey, Xander!” she hollers, catching the attention of several other students. She meets me halfway. “Got a message from Will. She wants to talk to you. Head for the library. Willow says it’s important.”

I joke to cover my nervousness. “Well then, if my lady commands it, it shall be done.”

“Xander, a few words of advice. Don’t joke right now. Willow needs reassuring that you love her with all your heart, not lame jokes that leave her confused about where she stands with you,” Buffy says, half threatening.

In all seriousness, I respond with, “Buffy, I couldn’t hurt Willow. Not if I tried. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure no one hurts her.”

“Good. Tell her that,” Buffy calls over her shoulder before she leaves the school.

Nervously I head for the library, not at all sure what Willow is going to say. I can only hope that she tells me that she’ll love me forever, instead of telling me that I’ve hurt her too many times to be able to trust me. “Will?” I call out uncertainly.

“Up here, Xander,” comes the reply. I go up in to the stacks, and see her sitting in the corner. She’s staring out the window with a thoughtful look on her face. “I’ve thought about you all day,” she begins without preamble. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. It’s nearly killed me to stay away from you. But I needed to think.”

“I respect that,” I tell her. And I do.

“I know. And of everything I’ve been telling myself, the thing that sticks out the most is the fact that for the last seventeen years, I’ve loved you unconditionally. You’re my life. And I can’t live without you. Ever since we were fourteen years old, I’ve wanted you to look at me and realize that you can’t live without me, either. But you haven’t. So I learned to live with just your friendship and not expect anything more. It’s been difficult to realize that you do, in fact, love me like I’ve dreamed. But Xander, I need you just as much as you confessed to needing me. So I can’t hold you at arms length anymore, even if I wanted to.” She turns around then and I feel like I’m floating when I realize the look in her eyes is that of love, pure and simple.

“Willow,” I choke out, holding my arms open for her. She runs into them and squeezes me tightly. “I love you so much,” I whisper, holding her close. I stroke her hair and rain kisses over her upturned face. “It feels so right to have you in my arms. I never want to let you go.”

“I don’t want you to let me go, either,” she confesses. She steps out of my arms, and they feel empty without her in them. “But for right now, we have to.”

I’m confused. “Why?”

“Because it’s not right. Neither one of us is single. You’re still with Cordy, and even though my relationship with Oz is deteriorating rapidly, I’m still officially with him. We need to talk to them and permanently dissolve our ties with them before we can do anything with each other. As much as I want to be with you, I won’t cheat. And I won’t respect you if you do,” she adds. She looks into my eyes beseechingly, pleading with me to understand how she feels.

“I know,” I sigh, dropping the hand that was on its way to reaching for hers. “I’d feel guilty if I cheated on Cordy. I don’t love her, but that doesn’t mean she deserves such crappy treatment.”

“So, we stay away from each other until we can talk to them,” Willow concludes quietly.

“One kiss to remember until we can be together?” I request hopefully.

She nods, and steps closer to me. I raise my hand to cup her face, running my fingers caressingly over her cheek and jaw. Then I lower my head and those lips that I’ve dreamed of, ached to kiss, are on mine. The kiss deepens, sweetens, and I swear I’m in heaven. Making out with Cordy never held this level of soul-shatteringness. I know it’s the difference between sexual desire and unadulterated love. When she withdraws, I ache to pull her back to me. Sadly, she clasps my hand to hers for a brief moment, and then lets go.

“Until we can be together,” she promises.

“Until we can be together,” I echo. And I know that no matter how painful that time will be, or how slowly it will pass, it will be worth it. She’s worth everything. And I know that no matter what, she’ll be there for me through it all.