The Morning After

Warm morning sunlight played on her face, making bright red patterns on the inside of her eyelids. Willow let out a groan and buried her head beneath the pillow. She winced at the unexpected rawness in her throat. She felt sore all over. As the peace of sleep retreated, she began to realize the wrongness of the situation.

She wasn't in her room.

A hollow gnawing was forming in her stomach that made her grit her teeth.

It was then that she realized that she wasn't wearing any clothes. Someone had carefully tucked her under white sheets and warm comforter and had left.

She was alone.

When she realized where she was, the hollow twinge grew teeth, an acid biting at the back of her throat. Last night's events came back slowly, first as a blur, then as a sharp, horrifying memory with a volume too loud to drown out.

"Oh no," she whimpered. "Please no."

"No no no no-no-nonononono…" she choked back a cry as she fumbled around the mattress searching for her clothes. She found them a few minutes later on the other side of the room. The sight of her jeans and sweater folded neatly in a chair by the wardrobe made the nausea all the more acute. She had to get out of there.

Fully clothed, she poked her head out of the door and padded softly down the stairs. The sight of him sleeping on the living room couch, glasses askew, lips parted and snoring softly, made her freeze on the landing. She slowly drew in a breath and sneaked past him on tiptoes, not chancing a glance back.

She made it to the bathroom just in time.

The sound of the door closing and the retching that followed jarred him awake. His heart thudded violently as he raised a shaky hand to adjust his glasses. He crept into the hallway outside the bathroom. The wet coughing continued and he began to feel ill himself.

Giles curled a sweat-slicked palm into a tight fist and was just about to knock when he thought better of it.

"Not yet," he muttered.

He shuffled into the kitchen and set a kettle of water on the stove top, before walking into the den and promptly forgetting about it. He fidgeted on the couch for two minutes, then quickly abandoned all pretence of calm and paced.

The gagging in the bathroom was replaced with the metallic thwack of the shower curtain being pulled back and the accompaniment of running water.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and wished desperately for patience. The shower seemed to continue indefinitely.

"It's alright," he tried to reassure himself. "It's only natural that she'd want to… Oh, God… what have I done? She must think I'm… If she really hated me though, she would leave, and she's still here so—what if she couldn't make it home? What if she was too hurt to leave? Did I really hurt her that badly? I tried not to…"

He cut himself off, realizing that debating himself like a crazy person was not what Willow needed to see when she came out. If she ever came out.

Finally, his anxiety got the better of him.

He knocked gently on the door. There was no reply, but he knew from the change in the tone of the slap of water on tile that she had heard him.

"Willow?" He pursed his lips when there was no answer and tried again. "Willow, I'll be in the living room when you come out. We need to talk."

The taps squeaked as she shut off the water.

"Okay," came the quiet reply.

Willow padded out from the bathroom dressed in her clothes from the night before, hair still soaking wet and dripping onto her sweater-clad shoulders. She perched on the edge of the couch opposite to him and stared intently at her hands.

Giles cleared his throat, "Willow, can I get you anything to drink?"

She shook her head and shifted her gaze to his lap, unable to meet his eyes.

"Okay," he tried again in a calm voice, "How are you feeling?"

"How do you think?" She asked in a gravelly whisper.

The color drained out of Giles' face. The silence in the room grew by volumes with every second.

"You have every right to hate—"

"Oh Giles," Willow cut him off. "I am so sorry!"

The older man was stunned into silence.

Willow's eyes filled with tears and overflowed. "I am so embarrassed! I was irresponsible and… Oh, God!"

She buried her face in the couch cushion, which muffled her strangled gasp.

"Willow…" Giles inched toward her.

She peered at him over the corner of the pillow and mumbled something that was lost in the synthetic polyblend.

"Didn't quite catch that."

"I was such a whore! I was a slutty-slut! You have to believe that I didn't mean to do any of that. I would never do anything to compromise our friendship. Especially after last summer! I understand if you don't want to see me again!"

Willow was hysterical, half-crying, half-screaming, her breath coming out in shaking gasps.

"Willow, shhhh," Giles tried. "Willow, Willow… WILLOW!"

She broke finally broke off, wincing as if waiting for a blow.

He moved as close to her as he could without touching her.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he spoke quietly. "I encouraged you to practice magicks again. And I was the one who… Willow, can you ever forgive me?"

Willow sniffed and looked up to him with an air of incredulity, "Forgive you? Why? Giles, you saved me! You did the only thing that would have worked!"

Giles looked away, "Well, that's what Anya said, but I should have explored…"

"You told Anya?!"

Giles eyed Willow carefully, "Willow, what do you remember about last night?"

Willow swallowed and looked intently at the coffee table, "It started like I told you earlier. Buffy came home from patrol and I was in the kitchen…"

"Willow!" Buffy flung her gym bag of medieval weaponry onto the kitchen table with a muffled clang. "What are you still doing up?"

"I'm still on England time," Willow explained around a mouthful of cereal. "It's already ten in the morning there."

"So you think breakfast at two am will help ease you back into the transition?"

"I'm hoping that eating Caramel Coco Puffs will give me the sugar crash I need to sleep through the night," Willow grinned. "Good patrol?"

"I guess," Buffy plucked at some non-existent sweater ball.

"Spike still giving you trouble?"

"That's just it," Buffy sighed. "He's really not."

Willow smiled sympathetically. "I know. They're not nearly as sexually appealing when they're trying to kill you."

"Well, sometimes they are," Buffy contradicted.

Willow raised an eyebrow.

"Kidding!" Buffy sat down at the table. "I don't know what I'm going to do, Will. I cannot allow myself fall back into old habits with Spike. I mean, I get it. He's a good guy. Or at least he's not a Big Bad anymore. He has a soul now… whatever that means. I mean, I like him… maybe even… but I can't, with him, not again…"

"Would that be so bad, Buffy?" Willow asked. "He loves you. He's proven that. What can be so wrong about a relationship with someone who cares about you that much?"

"He's a vampire, Will. There's a demon inside of him."

"Didn't stop you before…"

"And look how that worked out. Both times." Buffy sighed. "There's a reason that sleeping with the undead is frowned upon, Will."

Willow smiled, "It does always seem to get complicated."

Buffy started to say something, then hesitated.

"What?"

"Well, maybe you could help me out…"

Willow's eyebrows creased, "Buffy, I'm flattered, but I'm still recovering from Tara and you think there's complications with the whole slayer-vampire romance thing… that's nothing compared to when best friends get romantically involved."

"Willow!"

Willow laughed.

"No," Buffy pouted. "I mean, maybe there's a spell you could use that would, you know, cool down my libido. At least when it comes to Spike."

Willow shook her head slowly, "I don't think so, Buffy. Even if I did trust myself completely, you really don't want to screw around with your junk magically."

"Yeah," Buffy sighed. "Nothing worse than magically-enhanced junk."

Willow grinned.

"It's just… I feel terrible around him. I flirt with him. Completely unconsciously," she clarified. "That's just how I've always behaved around him, it's like ingrained. And I don't want to lead him on. He deserves better than that."

"Yeah," Willow agreed softly. "I wish I could help, Buff."

"Just think about it, okay?" Buffy asked. "If, in the course of your research, you happen to come across a spell that would suit my particular dilemma, just, don't dismiss it right away, okay?"

Willow raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Hey, Giles trusts you with magicks," Buffy tried.

Willow snorted. "Yeah, and Giles' faith in me had never been misplaced before…"

"Well, he does have a bit of a blind spot when it comes to his girls," Buffy conceded. "But I don't think he's wrong on this, Will. He wouldn't have let you come back if he didn't trust you."

"I'll think about it, Buffy," Willow finally agreed. "But don't get your hopes up."

"Okay," Buffy yawned happily.

She rose and kissed her friend on the forehead. "Try not to stay up too late. We gotta get you back on Pacific time."

"I won't. Goodnight, Buffy."

But I couldn't get to sleep, Willow continued. No one had asked me to do magic since Tara left me. No one had trusted me. But Buffy did. And I couldn't make the longing go away. It was like an itch that ran deep under my skin. I found the spell a few hours later. It was in one of the texts we rescued from The Magic Box. It was simple and I knew I could do it. I just needed to check with one person first. You.

"Giles?"

"Hello, Willow! Settling back in okay?"

"Yeah, I guess," Willow twisted the phone cord around her finger. "How's the old apartment?"

"I missed it more than I thought, actually. It's bigger than the flat in Bath. More room to spread out."

"Uh-huh."

"What can I do for you, Willow? Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," Willow assured him. "Well, I'm okay. Still a little jetlagged."

"Well, that's to be expected."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Willow, would you like to tell me what's wrong?"

"Giles, you trust me, right?"

"Yes, of course," came Giles' carefully measured cadence. "You know I do."

"Why?"

Giles sighed.

"I mean, I haven't given you reason to recently. Not really."

"Because I know you, Willow. I know how seductive the kind of power you have can be. And I know that you're smart enough never to let that power control you again."

"I wish I knew you were right."

"I guess my faith in you will have to be enough for both of us."

Willow was silent.

"Willow?" Giles asked. "Are you still there?"

"I'm here," Willow replied softly. "I want to practice magicks again, Giles."

"Good," she could hear the smile in his voice."That's very good, Willow. I think that wanting to practice magic again is the first step to not letting it control you."

"You think?"

"I do," Giles paused. "Have you any idea about where you want to begin?"

"Um, yeah," Willow ran her fingers over the illuminated folio. "It's just a charm, really. Something for Buffy."

"For Buffy?" Giles asked. "Do you want any help?"

"No!" Willow said a little too abruptly, knowing how Buffy would feel if she talked to her mentor about her sex drive. "No, I got it. I'll call you afterwards to let you know how it works out."

"Okay. I look forward to hearing from you later, Willow."

"Yeah, me too."

"Goodbye."

"Well, have you tried Barnes and Noble?"

"I'm telling you, I've tried everywhere, Buffy. Turns out one year of retail experience in a magic shop that had to be condemned doesn't make for a great resume."

"Don't you still have some money left over from last year?"

"How much do you think Giles paid me? I have enough for one more month's rent. Then I'm screwed."

"You could always move back in with Xander."

"I don't know if I'm ready to forgive him that much."

"You forgave him enough to let him jack-hammer you on the construction site last Tuesday."

"He told you that?"

Willow had decided that she'd eavesdropped long enough. "Hey guys!"

Anya and Buffy looked up from their discussion on the living room couch.

"If it isn't the source of my misfortune," Anya greeted her.

"Hi, Anya," Willow returned the greeting nervously. "It's good to see you not holding any grudges."

"I was a vengeance demon for over a millennium, Willow. Forgiveness is not in my nature."

"Well, that must be nice for you." She turned her attention to Buffy. "Hey, Buffy! Remember, we were going to do that thing?"

Buffy gave her a blank stare.

"That special thing, that you were going to do for Spike?"

"Really?" Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Yes! Spike! Can't let that 129th birthday passed unnoticed. It's one of the big ones…"

Anya rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm not leaving. I just got here and I'm not relishing the idea of going back to my apartment to stew until the landlord evicts me."

"You can stew down here then," Willow offered. "Buffy and me will just be a sec."

"Fine," Anya agreed, slightly mollified. "I'll go see what your kitchen has to offer. Not like I can afford to spend money on luxuries like food…"

Buffy and Willow sighed as the kitchen door swung closed.

"What are we going to do about her?" Buffy wondered out loud.

"Later," Willow grabbed her hand. "Do you still want to do this?"

Buffy smiled cautiously, "Yeah, if you're up to it."

"I think so," Willow grinned. "Do you trust me?"

"More than anyone, Will."

"Then let's do this."

"Okay, now this stuff isn't going to kill my sex drive permanently, is it?"

"No," Willow looked up from the text. "It's just for you and Spike. And you'll still like him, you just won't want to jump his bones constantly."

"It's not constantly…"

Willow raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, point taken. I guess that's why I'm doing this."

Willow sat back on her heels.

"Alright, it's very simple. You drink this mixture slowly, while I recite this verse."

Buffy eyed the cup in Willow's hand cautiously, "What's in it?"

"Do you really want to know?"

Buffy took the cup with a grimace.

"Bottom's up!"

Willow felt the familiar surge of energy as she began to chant. The sensation was somewhere between pain and erotic pleasure, combined with something else entirely. Something indescribably powerful. She savored every moment of it.

As Buffy drained the dregs of the glass, Willow felt a wave of heat rush out of Buffy and crash into her. Her gut felt like it was on fire.

"Willow!" Buffy crouched over her and shook her arm. "Willow? Are you okay?"

Willow got to her feet shakily.

"Yeah, I think so."

"What was that?" Buffy demanded. "Was that supposed to happen?"

"I guess so," Willow grinned faintly. She smoothed her sweater and checked her reflection in the floor length mirror.

"Well, did it work?"

Willow's smile widened, but she didn't pry her eyes away from her mirror-image, "You tell me."

"I don't know," she said slowly, her brow furrowed. "I guess I won't know until I see him again."

"Mmm…" Willow muttered distractedly.

"I guess I could head out to the crypt now," Buffy thought out loud. "It's not too long before sunset."

"Good idea."

"Okay," Buffy slapped her thighs decisively. "I will! I'll be back later, tell you how it goes?"

Willow drew her gaze away from the mirror, "Might not be here."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, talking to her reflection again. "Giles said he wanted to know how the spell went. Might go over there…"

"Buffy left for the cemetery and I…" Willow broke off and began to sob silently.

Giles shifted on the couch nervously. He rubbed his hands together, unsure of what do to with them.

"Willow," he began, finally resting a hand on her shoulder.

Willow gasped, recoiling at the contact, and Giles jerked his hand back like it had been shocked.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"No," Willow sniffed, turning to face him. "No, Giles, it's fine. It's just that I don't really remember what happened next."

Giles struggled to maintain eye contact.

"Well, I do," Willow corrected herself. "Just flashes, really. Mostly I just remember feeling like I was drunk and hot. Like I had a really high fever."

Giles swallowed nervously.

"What did I do, Giles?"

"Willow, I don't think it's a great idea to…"

"What did I say to you?" Willow continued.

"Maybe it's for the best that we don't go into specifics."

"That bad, huh?"

Giles sighed and gave her a small smile.

"I need to know," Willow said softly. "If I don't know, then I'll just create this awful imaginary scenario. You can gloss over the more lurid details, if you want. But please tell me?"

He didn't answer for awhile, staring at the coffee table contemplatively. When he did speak, his voice was low and quiet. He didn't look Willow in the eye.

"I was at home, reading. I had been considering calling Buffy to see if she wanted any company on her patrol, when you knocked on the door…"

"Willow!" Giles exclaimed, opening the door. "I thought you were going to call."

She grinned and walked passed him, into the apartment, ducking under his arm.

"I take it that the spell went well?"

Willow turned to face him, "I think so. Buffy seemed… satisfied."

"You're not going to let me know what it was, are you?"

She sat down at the desk chair, crossing her legs slowly, "That would be telling."

Giles looked confused. "Yes…"

"I don't think Buffy would like me to," Willow said. "It's a girl thing. You know… private."

"Ah," Giles said.

A moment passed in silence. Giles felt increasingly uneasy as Willow stared at him intently. He began to feel that there was something he should be saying, but he didn't know what it was.

"Willow, is there anything I can do for you?"

She smiled slowly, "Giles, I'd like to think that we're at the point in our relationship when we can just spend some time in each other's company without a specific agenda."

"Well, y-yes," Giles stuttered. "That's true. It's just that... Are you feeling sick?"

Her cheeks were flushed and there was a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her bright green stare was unfocused and glassy.

"I feel fine," Willow said in a low voice.

He put his hand on her forehead, "You feel hot."

Willow had closed her eyes and sighed at his touch. When removed his hand, she let out a tiny moan.

"Don't stop touching me," she whispered.

"What?" He asked.

Willow stood up and looked him in the eye, "Keep touching me, Giles."

"Willow…"

She took his left hand in her right and placed her other behind his neck, gently guiding him down to kiss her. As their lips brushed, she placed his hand on her breast. He jumped back, gasping.

"Willow!"

"Giles, don't stop!" Her eyes flashed. "I need you."

Giles put took her chin in his hand and looked at her closely. The glassiness in her eyes had been replaced by a burning glow. He let out a breath to steady himself, knowing that he had to tread carefully.

"Willow," he started carefully. "Will you wait for me upstairs?"

"In your bedroom?"

Giles swallowed, "Yes. I'll be there in a minute."

"You promise?"

He forced himself to look her in the eye. "I promise."

She smiled seductively and leaned over his shoulder. Her lips grazed his ear, "Don't keep me waiting."

Giles let out a breath and leaned on the back of the couch as she pounded up the stairs. When his pulse had slowed and his hands stopped shaking, he picked up the phone on the desk and dialed the familiar number.

"Come on, Buffy," he muttered. "Come on, be home for once."

"This is the home of Buffy Summers. Anya speaking."

"Anya, thank God! Is Buffy home?"

"No," Anya practically spat. "She and Willow left without telling me. I was shouting a grocery list up the stairs to them for five minutes before I realized there was no one there."

Giles closed his eyes, "Do you know what it was that she and Willow were doing upstairs?"

"I don't know. They said they were working on something for Spike."

"Spike?"

"That's what they said," she confirmed. "I don't know though, Giles. No one ever tells me anything. It's like I can't be trusted just because I used to eviscerate and generally plague faithless men for a millennia. But that doesn't mean I'm not trustworthy. I consider my ability to keep secrets one of my finest qualities."

"Anya, do shut up, this is important."

"Fine!" Giles could hear her rolling her eyes. "What is it?"

"I need you to go upstairs and find out what it was Buffy and Willow were working on."

"Okay, hold on."

Giles heard successive hollow stomps as she made her way up the stairs.

"Well, they were definitely doing a spell. There's a glass in here that held something. Whatever it is, it's gone now. There's just some leaves at the bottom. Belladonna, maybe?"

"Is there a book or incantation written down anywhere?"

"Nooo… I don't… Oh, yeah! Here, on the bed. It's a manuscript, open to a standard de-lusting spell. De-lusting? That's what they were going to give to Spike? What kind of birthday present is that?"

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, "What language is it in, Arabic or Latin?"

"Uhhh, neither. It's English."

"Okay, but what was it translated from?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"What's the name of the book, Anya?"

"Charms and Magicks of Love and Lust."

"The one from The Magic Box."

"Uh, I guess so. We have a lot of your books over here."

Giles let out an expletive.

"Giles!" Anya admonished. "I didn't know you knew words like that."

"That spell isn't properly translated! It was incorrectly rendered into Latin from the Arabic and then, apparently, into English. That whole book is full of errors."

"What's wrong with the spell?"

"My guess? An ingredient was either deleted or was mistranslated and as a result the person's sexual desire doesn't disappear, it just transfers to the person who performed the spell. And then, apparently, magnifies."

"Okay," Anya said slowly, "But how do you know something went wrong?"

"Willow's over here now."

"Okay," she said impatiently. "Ohhhh…"

"I'm afraid so."

"Giles, you know what you have to do."

"Please tell me you know something I don't."

"You have to sleep with her."

"I can't do that!" His voice sounded strangled, even to himself, but he thought it appropriate, given the circumstance.

"Well, then, prepare to say your goodbyes to the little witch."

"Anya!"

"You know how these sexual energy spells work," Anya insisted. "They build up and up and if the cursed person doesn't get some sort of release…"

"They are consumed by the fire of their own passion."

"They go boom is what, Giles," she clarified. "You have to do something. And you probably don't have much time."

"Right."

"You okay?"

"Yes," Giles swallowed. "Thank you, Anya."

"Glad I could help."

"Okay, well, I should go."

"Okay."

"And Anya?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't tell anyone about this conversation."

"Does nobody listen to me?"

"Trust-worthy, right."

"My lips are sealed."

"Right," he repeated. "Good-bye."

Giles hung up the phone and stared at it. He looked around his apartment in its state of half-unpacked disarray, hoping that an alternative solution would present itself. He knew in his gut Anya was correct though. Even if there was some sort of spell that could sort Willow out, there wasn't enough time for research. Still, he couldn't make himself go up the staircase.

"Hi, Giles," The small voice in his ear nearly made him fall out of the chair.

"Willow!" She had changed out of her clothes and had slipped into his bathrobe. "I didn't hear you come down."

"I got tired of waiting," She put her hands on his shoulders and straddled his thigh. She pressed her lips to his neck right under his ear and worked her way down to his collar slowly and deliberately. Giles repressed a shudder.

"Willow," he said. His voice was unrecognizably husky. He put tucked her hair behind her ear to get her attention.

"Hmmm?"

"Willow, if you and I are going to do this, you need to listen to me, okay?"

"Oh, you're one of those," She grinned and continued where she left off, sucking on his earlobe.

"Willow, Willow!" He pulled her away again. "I just don't want anyone to get hurt, okay?"

"Don't worry, Rupert," she smiled coyly. "I'll go easy on you."

"I'm serious," He managed to look her in the eye.

"Alright," she shrugged. "You take the lead on this one. I can be a good listener."

"Good." His breath came out in a shaky sigh. He slid her off his lap and stood up, taking her hand in his. She followed him dutifully up the stairs.

Despite what she had said about letting him call the shots, her eagerness hadn't dissipated. When they reached the bedroom, she all but threw him on the bed and sat on his lap. She started what she had begun downstairs, trailing kisses down his neck. This time she didn't bother to stop at his shirt collar, but ripped it open and continued down.

"Okay, okay…" He placed a hand on her forehead to calm her before she could reach anywhere too interesting. "We're not going to do that."

"Are you sure?" She asked knowingly, glancing at his aroused state.

"Quite sure," he reasserted.

"Fine," she eased off of him and let the bathrobe slip to the floor. "Screw the foreplay."

With surprising strength, she pulled him on top of her, kissing him firmly on the mouth. He hesitated at first, every voice in his head protesting how wrong this was. Her tongue slid slowly and surely over the tip of his and he found himself responding in kind. How easy it would have been to lose himself entirely inside of her!

The internal shouts of protest faded to a whisper and he realized in that moment how close he was to abandoning his paternal role and just having her. As a woman. She was a woman, wasn't she? A particularly beautiful, slender, trusting woman, who was looking at him in a way that was nothing short of adoring. It would have been so easy.

But she was Willow. She was also the girl who trusted him to do the right thing above all else. The girl he had watched and mentored as she grew from awkward teenager to self-confident young adult. The girl who would have been appalled at her behavior if she had any control over what she was doing.

And it was for that girl that he had to tread carefully.

With nimble fingers, she had made quick work of his belt buckle and his trousers and boxers soon followed.

Her kisses stopped and she looked at him intently.

"What are you waiting for?" She asked, her voice a low whisper.

"Willow," he hesitated.

"Giles, please," she begged.

"You haven't… been with a man a good while…"

"I'm sure it will all come back to me." Her eyes flashed eerily.

"I just don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." She kissed him. "You couldn't. Not even if you tried."

Giles knew how untrue that was and his face must have shown it.

"Please, Giles! I need you," she drew her mouth close to his ear. "I need you close to me, inside of me. Please."

He swallowed thickly, realizing on some level how true those words were.

She cried out when he entered her and his heart nearly thudded out of his chest.

"Are you-"

"Please!" She pleaded. "Don't stop!"

He moved slowly, cautiously. With every thrust, her skin grew hotter. Every inch of her body was soft and slick with sweat. As he kissed her neck, he thought his flesh would scorch. They were both going to die in this bed. They were going to be burned alive.

Her moans grew loud and laced with desperation.

"Giles, please," Willow cried. "I'm on fire! I'm so hot. Giles, please make it stop!"

"I'm trying, love." He kissed her forehead. "Stay with me."

"Please, please, I'm so…" Her begging dissolved into incoherent mumbles.

He worked harder, faster, deeper, abandoning the caution he had clung to before.

"Stay with me, Willow," he commanded.

Her eyes, so bright with desire and pain, filled with tears and spilled over. Her back arched suddenly and her muscles tensed around him. She let out a wail that pierced him like a lance.

The suddenness of her climax sent a shockwave through him. He hissed as a wave of heat washed over the two of them. The intensity of the moment left him ragged, panting for breath, as he collapsed on Willow's breast. It was then that he realized his mistake. He had come inside of her.

He swore under his breath.

"Willow?" He asked, pulling himself onto his elbows. "Willow, I'm sor—Willow?"

She lay beneath him completely still, her lips still parted, her eyes closed.

"Willow!"

"I thought you were dead," he concluded, hollowly. "I was sure I had killed you."

"Oh, Giles," Willow whispered.

He sighed. As she had requested, he had painted the more intimate details of their encounter with broad strokes, but a look from her told him that she remembered more than she let on. How would they ever get past this?

"What happened next?"

"I found your pulse," he said. "It was weak, but… I could see that you were breathing. You didn't have a fever. I covered you up, got dressed and went downstairs. I checked on you every twenty minutes after that. I don't think you moved the entire night."

Willow let out a shaky breath.

"Wow," she said, unable to meet his eyes. "Well, thank you for telling me that. I know it wasn't easy. And I do remember… more. I just… I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I put you in that position. I was so reckless."

"You didn't do anything wrong. There was no way you could have known the spell was faulty. You were just doing what I told you you could."

Willow pried her eyes away from the coffee table and forced herself to look at him.

"Thank you, Giles."

"Oh, please don't."

"Seriously." She placed her hand on his arm gently. "If you hadn't acted when you did. I would have—"

"Please, Willow!" He cut her off, holding up his hand. "Just, don't. I was just scared and I acted. I didn't even think. Not really."

He covered his face with his hands, "I didn't even think to use protection."

"Didn't seem like I gave you much of a choice."

"What if…?"

"I can't think about that right now," Willow said frankly. "Seems pretty unlikely, at any rate."

He fell silent.

"Giles, look at me," she said.

He looked up from his hands, "I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness."

"Giles, you have nothing to be sorry for." Her tone left no room for argument. She took his hand in hers. "You did the right thing. I know that it doesn't seem like it now. But you were put in a difficult position and you handled it with grace. You could have been impersonal and harsh. God knows I deserved it, the way I was acting…"

He opened his mouth to interrupt her, but she continued, "But you didn't. You were gentle and kind. You were the person I've always known you to be. And I love you for that."

There was nothing he could think to say after that. He slowly put his arm around her shoulders, praying that she wouldn't shirk away. She returned the embrace easily. He was glad for it. With her face hidden in the crook of his arm, she wouldn't be able to see that he was crying.