A/N: Amazingly, the end is in sight. I've got two chapters to write in addition to the final chapter and epilogue that are ready to go. That will make this the first multi-part story that I've actually finished fully in years (and the ones that previously were finished are really bad and hopefully lost forever and ever). This will be the last notes before that epilogue (and those are going to be fairly lengthy), so enjoy!

Now safely in her and Xander's (No, just Xander's, thought Willow, admonishing herself mentally), Willow decided to get down to business. Namely, the business of stuffing her face. Ice cream, cookies, soda, even a whole pie succumbed to Willow's insatiable appetite. And her table manners! Willow had of course seen more than her share of post-Slaying pig outs by Buffy, but now she understood why Buffy's manners were sometimes suspect. She was hungry!

Xander was completely unfazed by all of this, and was nonchalantly watching TV all while it was going on. The only thing Xander had to say about the entire affair was, "Done?" when Willow sat down besides him on their-HIS!-couch.

Willow opened her mouth to respond, but merely burped instead, loud and long. Willow blushed; Xander, ever the perpetual teenager, started snickering. "Xander!" she scolded, while slapping his arm.

"Ow!"

"You deserve it!" Willow argued with mock petulance. After a pregnant pause, she asked, "So, what do we do now?"

Xander blushed. He knew exactly what usually happened with his Willow after she had pigged out, but with this one having proclaimed that she was gay rather loudly, he wasn't about to go against her wishes. "Well, it's kind of late, so I was going to grab a blanket and sleep on the couch." Left unsaid, however, was the implication that Xander was sleeping on the couch because he refused to make Willow uncomfortable in any way. Which, of course, still happened because Willow was suddenly-and shamefully-aware of the barrier she had imposed upon him.

"No, I'll sleep out here," replied Willow, who was quickly getting irritated with this version of her best friend.

"Willow, I insist," demanded Xander. "This couch is horrible to sleep on."

"Will you stop?" raged Willow. "I'm not your wife! Stop treating me like her!"

"Maybe not," explained Xander, "but you're still Willow."

The witch/Slayer was at her boiling point. "For once in your life, can you just stay away?"

"And leave you here confused and stressed out? That's not what friends do, Will."

Willow started sobbing. "You're not my friend! You just look like him!"

"Am I really that much different than your Xander?" he asked as he stood right in front of her.

Willow knew the answer, and she hated it. "No. You're exactly the same."

"Then why are you so upset?"

"Because every time I keep saying that I'm gay and that Tara wasn't an 'experiment', I see a reason why this world is telling me the opposite." Wiping the tears from her eyes, she added, "And every time I look at you and see my Xander, I feel awful knowing that he might just be in love with me still."

"Look, Will," argued Xander, "maybe he is, and maybe he isn't, but I can tell you this: he will never be anything other than what you need, and when you need it."

Thinking yet again of that day in May, Willow nodded in agreement. "Good night, Xander," she said as she hugged the alternate version of her best friend before heading to the bedroom.

"Good night, Willow."