Title: I'll Always Be Waiting
Pairing: Willow/Oz, Willow/Tara
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Sensuality
Disclaimer: I'm not Joss!
Description: None
A/N: I've always had a soft spot for Willow/Oz, whether she's gay or not. But I'm afraid I never really had confidence that I had the skill to write them. So don't be mean to me, it's my first try.
"Willow."
"Mm?"
Oz's eyes are intense as he reaches for her. She settles into his arms with a smile and closes her eyes. Under the blue sheets they sleep, peaceful at last. If an apocalypse comes the next day, or any number of beasts get into the house, they know that they will be safe together.
As long as they are together.
"Willow, come on. Willow, are you listening?" Buffy's impatient voice bounces right off her strange, foggy shield. She must block all her senses, she knows. There's no other way. No other way to survive.
Even a Wicca cannot make love go away. Forget anti-love spells, curses and whatnot. Love stays. This lesson she has learned, and well.
"Willow!" Finally, she is woken up by Xander's exclamation. She turns her head to him and frowns slightly, confused. Where is Oz? If Xander is here, shouldn't Oz be...
Oh. She remembers with a rush of fresh pain, and hot tears spill from her eyes, stinging her skin as they form wet paths down her now sunken cheeks.
"Willow," Xander says again, his voice low and tender. He is holding her, she realizes, his chin resting on her head, his strong arms around her. He is so very big now. Oz was never...
"Willow, it's okay," Xander whispers.
"No," she says in a voice hoarse from ill use. "No—it's not!" She begins to blubber, her lower lip shaking.
"Willow," she hears Buffy say clearly. Willow looks up at her with eyes blurred by tears. Buffy puts a hand on her shoulder. "You need to think about other things, Willow. Like...um. Like...puppies."
"But—what if the puppies die?"
"Uh... okay then, no puppies! Rainbows. Blue sky. That sort of thing. Beautiful things," Buffy says.
Oz is beautiful. He is short and people don't always pay him attention when he's in the room, but he's deep. And his hair is so rough, his skin so smooth. He is perfect. He always was.
"Willow? Wh-what are you thinking of?" Buffy looks concerned. She must have noticed the expression on Willow's face.
"Oz." She does not bother with lying. Why should she? Buffy is her friend.
She should not hide from her.
There is a girl in the Wicca group at the university. She is shy—she barely ever speaks to anyone—but she has a—a sort of vibe, like she is powerful.
Powerful, but good. Thoroughly, beautifully, flawlessly good.
Which is just what Willow needs.