Willow sat in class, leg twitching up and down restlessly. She wanted to chew the end of the pen (a bad childhood habit she still hadn't quite kicked), but forcefully reminded herself that it wasn't her pen. It was one she had borrowed from the girl in front of her after hers had turned out to have exploded in the front pocket of her backpack, thoroughly coating all of her carefully arranged pens, pencils, and erasers in a greasy layer of blue-black ink. Just another casualty of the terrible day she was having.
She couldn't even bring herself to be that upset about it. Before class, she had tried the spell again in her room, staring at herself in the mirror and insisting "I wish for a sign about Oz— Daniel Osborne. I want to know where he is. And if he still loves me. And is he coming back? And what am I supposed to do if he doesn't?" Then she had dissolved into wrenching sobs and barely had time to wash her face before running off to class. It was a small miracle that Buffy hadn't been around to witness her meltdown, or else she'd be even more worried about her. Her little detour with the lost girl— Tara, she was pretty sure was her name— had thrown off her schedule more than she'd realized. That was okay, though. It had been one of the few things that had happened over the past few days that hadn't been terrible. Strange, yes, but not terrible. She had actually kind of enjoyed talking to her, and part of her wished she had gotten more information than her first name. She could use a few more friends in her life, outside of the Scoobies.
The professor dismissed the class, and it wasn't until Willow was going to put the pen away that she remembered it wasn't hers. The girl who had given it to her— Julie, maybe?— was already heading for the door.
"Wait! Julie!" Willow yelped, hopping to her feet and chasing after her.
The girl paused and looked back.
"Julia," she corrected.
"Right. Sorry. Your pen." Willow held it out as a peace offering. Julia cocked her head at it, frowning, and shrugged.
"It's not mine," she said carelessly.
"You let me borrow it from you," Willow pointed out, still holding it out.
"I found it in my bag. I must have picked it up somewhere, but it's not mine. Keep it if you want."
She made no move to take it. Willow hesitated, uncomfortable.
"But… this is a really nice, probably expensive pen." It was a fine pen, heavier than most, forest green and decorated with what looked like gold filigree. "It must belong to someone."
"Probably. Not me, though." Julia pulled her backpack higher on her shoulder. "Look, I've got to get to my next class. Keep the pen, or turn it in to Lost and Found if it makes you feel better. I can't even write with the stupid thing." With that, she gave an unconvincing smile and turned, taking long strides down the hallway. Willow frowned down at the fountain pen in her hand and reluctantly slipped it into her pocket. She would figure out what to do with it later. Maybe she could find the owner.
She retrieved her backpack from the classroom and walked into the nearest bathroom to inspect the damage. She opened up the zippered compartment, glanced at the oozing mess of ink, and immediately rezipped it out of sight. Before she undertook such a Herculean task, she was going to need a large cup of coffee.
While she was alone in the bathroom, staring herself down in the mirror, judging her own pale skin and sad, shadowed eyes, she leaned forward to make one more attempt at invoking her spell.
"It is my will that the pain in my heart be cured. That the hole in my life be filled. That my love be returned to me once again. So mote it be." She stared at herself, but nothing seemed to change. Oz was still gone, and her heart still ached with loss. With a sigh, she gave up and left in search of the largest mocha money could buy. What magic wouldn't cure, chocolate surely would.
Willow wound her way around campus until she reached her favorite coffee shop. This involved about five minutes of being alone with her own thoughts, which meant that by the time she got there, she was ruminating over Oz again, and the pain and loneliness were threatening to drown her in darkness. When she arrived, oblivious to the outside world, she went to pull the door open just as someone from the other side pushed it. She jumped back with a yelp, but still almost got run down by a girl in a hurry to exit.
"Oh gosh, I'm s-so s-s-sorry!" came a vaguely familiar voice from the curtain of blonde hair.
"Tara?" she asked, as her brain belatedly made the connection.
"Willow?" came the surprised reply. A hand came up and swept the cornsilk hair out of the way, verifying that this was the same girl from earlier. "Um… hi. Again." Tara lowered her head, seemingly embarrassed, but her eyes still glanced up to meet Willow's.
"Hi. This is pretty funny. Never meeting for weeks, and suddenly twice in one day."
"Yeah. Well… S-Sunnydale's a funny place like that," Tara commented with a wry smile that didn't fully belie her unease.
"Were you getting coffee?" Willow asked, although as soon as she said it, she noticed Tara's empty hands.
"Um… N-no, actually." She looked behind her, eyes scanning the room through the glass storefront, taking it all in as though she had never seen it before. "But… they p-probably sell tea, right?"
"Yeah, they do. Their coffee's better, though. Trust me. I was just about to get some, too, if you wanted to come with. I mean, unless you're on your way out. Which you are, are, obviously, since you're on that side of the door. I don't know why I even said anything. Sorry. Ignore me."
Tara gave a small, shy smile as she rambled on, only speaking up once she'd run herself into the ground.
"Um... Sure, I c-could use something to drink." With a small, self-conscious shrug, Tara turned around and held the door open for Willow to walk through. Willow hesitated, blushing with embarrassment, but then entered, pleased when Tara followed her in.
"I can't s-stand coffee, actually. Too bitter," Tara confessed, flashing a brief, sheepish smile.
"Tea is bitter," Willow countered. "And that's a funny attitude for someone in a coffee shop."
"Yeah, I guess…" the blonde murmured in an odd tone, looking around the interior of the café.
"To be honest, I don't really like black coffee either. It is pretty bitter," Willow admitted.
"I've only t-tried it once or t-twice, when I was, um… younger. B-but I think my d-d… my d-d-dad made it too s-strong. It was like… drinking hot asphalt," Tara added, her nose crinkled. Her voice caught especially bad on the word 'dad,' but she was smiling hopefully at Willow. The redhead laughed, and her new friend seemed heartened by the response.
"That's why you get the types with lots of cream and sugar in them, like lattes or mochas. Personally, I like mochas. It's like really strong hot chocolate, but with a lot more yummy caffeine. You should try one."
Tara's pink lips quirked into a smile.
"Um… m-maybe I will."
Together, they stepped in line.