Disclaimer: All characters in this fic belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I don't own anything.

Holding the Thought

"So, was it horrible?" Willow asked, smiling softly. She and Buffy were walking side by side, aimlessly wandering through the house as they chatted. Buffy had just given her a recap of "The Talk", and her friend seemed relieved and happy. This was a welcome change from the fear and doubt that had had haunted her face for the past few months.

Buffy raised her eyebrows and grinned. "It wasn't too horrible," she replied teasingly, tossing her head back and nudging Willow with her shoulder. The redhead opened her mouth to reply, but she was cut off by a ring from the telephone in the dining room. Buffy gave her a hold-that-thought look, turning back and jogging to the phone with Willow trailing after her.

The girl watched as Buffy listened for a moment, and then let her smile grow wider. "Giles!" she exclaimed. "We finished the sp-"

She stopped abruptly, her happy smile fading. Soon her blank look turned to one of shock, then horror. She vacantly handed the phone to Willow, who took it with some trepidation. She shot a worried look at her friend before putting the phone to her ear.

"Giles?" she asked warily. Looking behind her, she saw Buffy lean against the wall, her eyes wide and full of grief.

"Willow." Giles murmured, and the pain in his voice caused her stomach to clench in fear. What had happened? She bit her lip, listening intently as Giles drew a long, shuddering breath before continuing. "Angel's killed Jenny."

Willow felt as if her blood had turned to ice. "What?" she whispered, lowering the phone from her ear; not listening for a response as she ended the call with trembling fingers. "No…" This time she moaned, a low wail tearing from her throat. "Oh…no…" She started sobbing, her normally bright and soft eyes filling with tears.

Why Ms. Calendar? She wasn't a threat to anybody. She was defenseless. And alone. Why had Angel killed her?

No. Not Angel. Angelus.

That was too confusing to think about right now, and Willow found herself wondering about the other details instead; the how, where, and when. Had Giles found her? Had he been there when she had been killed?

Willow let out a whimper at that thought, and a fresh wave of tears trickled down her cheeks. She was bawling less wildly now, but still loud enough to draw Joyce into the room, looking frantically around for the source of the horrible wounded-animal noises. She saw Willow, doubled over and crying, and hurried over, grabbing her shoulders and franticly asking what was wrong, what had happened. When she realized that the girl couldn't form words, she simply pulled Willow into a tight hug, whispering soothingly into her ear as the girl rested her head on her shoulder and wept.