Author's Note: So, for quite a few of the stories I wrote, there are small scenes which fit nowhere, along with small, fluffy one-shots dealing with the daily life of a witch and her demon when they are not fighting monsters and saving the world. Thus, I decided to start this as some sort of experiment, where I'll put all these little one-shots whenever the mood to get one out of the system hits me. They'll (hopefully) span a multitude of genres and ratings, and I hope you'll enjoy them!

Disclaimer: Buffy is, sadly, not mine. Neither are any of her friends. Oh well.

No more further ado, I suppose, so let's go straight to business - this first little piece is set a few days after the final battle in Darkness Fall II: Devil in the Gateway. Summed up in short, I guess it's best said this way: Pat has to deal, and Willow helps.

Handling the Loss

She stands in front of the mirror, unaware of how long she's been doing this already, and just stares at her reflection; even this is different now, it looks strangely flat und lacking, something she knows she'll get used to, but that doesn't make it any easier.

Momentarily, she feels the urge to slam her fist against the reflecting surface and shatter it in a thousand pieces so she won't have to look at this anymore; then, she fights the urge until it vanishes, telling herself that it won't help, that it won't make what was done to her undone.

"Pat?" she then hears Willow call out to her from the living room, and she flinches, only now realizing how long she's been in the bathroom already, just standing there and staring at herself; and after another hard look at herself, she reaches up and pulls the eyepatch back down, covering the ruin which had been her left eye just a few days ago.

It still looks horrible, all the white and knotty scar tissue over the eye socket, she thinks to herself as she calls back, tells her partner that she'll be right there, amazed at how steady and calm her voice sounds; if it had reflected her thoughts, it would have trembled, maybe even might have cracked, but there wasn't even the tiniest trace of those feelings in it, and she sounded just as always, confident and strong.

Briefly, she considers giving up the masquerade, letting her lover see her true emotions; she knows that Willow's worried about her, and that the witch by now figured out that she's keeping her true feelings about what happened to her hidden, from all of them, something the rest is probably aware of, too, but they all know her well enough to know that, if she'll talk to anyone, it'll be her lover, and so, no one pushes her, not even said partner.

Another look into the mirror, a short one now, just to make sure that the eyepatch is sitting correctly and covers everything up; Xander says it makes her look badass, and when he told her that for the first time, it'd made her smile and agree with him, but now, she can't see that anymore, all she sees is someone who'll be severely limited in daily life from now on, with a major blind side and a lack of depth perception which might endanger her life and the life of the woman she loves in a critical moment.

Cripple, she acidly thinks to herself, then puts on a straight face and finally marches back to the living room, where Willow is waiting for her on the couch, with pizza and cold beer, a small celebration of their victory, the devil defeated, another apocalypse averted.

Yes, they won, she thinks to herself as she smiles at the redhead and sits down next to her, once again keeping how she feels from showing on her face as she picks up a slice of pizza, they won… But now, after some days to let it sink in, she can't help asking herself if maybe, the price they'd paid has been too high this time.

It's night, and they're having another celebration, a more intimate one this time, one which involves kissing and caressing and holding each other close; and even though they are naked by now, their clothes strewn all over the bedroom, the eyepatch is still there, hiding the gruesome scars from view in the warm light of the nightstand lamp.

For a while, there's almost no noise, except for the sound of their kisses, tender at first, then growing more passionate, soft moans and the movement of skin on skin; and then Willow pulls back and looks at her, and her gaze is worried, but warm and loving, the same warmth and love in her voice when she speaks up, only saying three words, but enough to make her gulp. "Take it off."

"…I'd rather not", she replies, and for the first time, her voice does tremble, betraying just the tiniest hint of how she feels, of how deeply she got hurt on so many levels, and even though it's just so small, Willow notices, of course she does, and while she keeps holding her gaze, she reaches up and runs her fingers over her cheek, a tender, reassuring touch, a silent promise that it's going to be okay.

And then, her fingers find the eyepatch, and she tenderly removes it, with such gentleness that it almost makes her cry; for a few seconds, Willow just looks, as if she's getting the first good look at the scarring, before her hand starts moving again, and her fingertips run over the scars, taking in the rough texture.

Her gaze never wavers, and she doesn't say a word, but she doesn't have to; instead, her hand slides from the ruined eye to the back of her lover's neck, and she pulls her close for another kiss while she wraps both arms around her now, and the hurting stops, really stops, and all is well.

They won, Pat thinks again as she holds her close and kisses her back, revels in her taste and the feeling of their bodies pressed against each other, they won again, and they are here, alive and well, safe and sound, at least for now; and then, Willow's hands start moving again, entangling in her hair as they keep kissing, and nothing else matters.

Nothing else matters, all is well, she's in her love's arms, and she's home.