AN: This will probably never happen again, but I have updated this fic with three chapters in the last three days . . . with that, my inspiration level has probably plummeted due to overuse. So enjoy these quick updates while you can, I'll probably hit a dry spell after this. Oh and review! Because that'll decrease the possibilities of dry spells considerably :)

Chapter 9: The Face of an Angel

"Oh my god . . ." Willow breathed in amazement. "You're . . . you're alive . . ."

The girl gave Willow a questioning look of good-humored bewilderment. "What gave it away?"

"Tara . . . oh god baby, you're alive . . . I c-can't believe it." Willow shook her head as ebullient tears started forming in her eyes. She stepped towards her, ready to throw her arms around the blonde, but frowned when the girl stepped back cautiously. Inspecting her face, she realized that the girl had not the slightest clue as to who she was. She felt the bulge of joy that formed in her chest the first moment she saw this girl succumb to pangs of anxiety, the kind one gets after realizing that a mirage is just that---a mirage. She tried blinking in vain to see if the girl merely and vaguely resembled Tara in a way that unconsciously invoked a mistaken response, but to no avail. She was the spitting image of her late lover. So she murmured softly, "Tara . . .d-don't you know m-me?"

The girl shook her head gently. "I'm sorry but . . . my name's not Tara. I think you're mistaking me for someone else."

Willow wondered if she was unconsciously on the majicks again. Maybe she was merely projecting an image that she wanted to see. She was playing a trick on herself. She tilted her head and scrutinized the girl to see if the likeness would ever dissipate. The girl began to get uncomfortable, but concerned. "Hey . . . are you okay?"

"Huh?" Willow shook her head as if emerging from a daze. "Yeah. I'm . . ." She couldn't finish the sentence, because obviously, she was not ok. She was going insane, hallucinating.

"I'm almost sorry I'm not the person you want me to be," the girl said with a smile.

Willow looked as if she couldn't comprehend anything at the moment. "What?"

"I mean, if it would take the deathly glum look off your face." The girl paused and reached her hand out in a gentle offer. "I'm Amber. Amber Stone." She shrugged sheepishly. "I know, I know, it sounds like a total stripper's name, but I swear, my parents must have had a penchant for making me miserable, even before birth."

Willow gazed down at the hand dumbfoundly. " . . . Willow," she murmured, taking it and shaking it in a haze. "Willow Rosenburg."

"Willow Rosenburg," Amber echoed, trying it out on her tongue. "Now that's a nice name. Unique, a sort of homage to the bohemian era of picking names based on seasons and foliage. I like it."

Now she knew that this definitely wasn't her girl. This girl was articulate, talkative and confident, traits that Tara didn't display---at least not instantly. And yet there was something still powerfully familiar about her and it wasn't just the face. Willow just continued staring while Amber tried to draw out conversation. Gazing down at Willow's stomach she grinned and cooed, "Oh wow, you're having a kid!"

"What? Oh . . . yeah." Willow held her hands around her swollen stomach awkwardly.

"How many months along are you?"

"Oh . . . about f-five." She couldn't believe she was having a normal conversation with the possible reincarnation of the love of her life.

"Wow. Sometimes I think I'd love to have a baby. But usually in my more 'I'm-so-scared-of-being-desperately-alone' moods. That and when I watch those adorable diaper ads on TV."

Willow laughed quietly, and Amber took it was cue to converse a little further. Smiling softly, she added, "The father here shopping with you? If you don't mind me asking."

Willow straightened and thought this through. What was she supposed to say? It's funny how totally innocent questions could provide so much panic in her. But then again, who really wanted to hear the truth? She knew that if she told the truth about the situation to anyone who asked, no one would think her sane enough to talk to again. But more than that, she somehow didn't want to tell this girl that the father was lurking around the store somewhere. She didn't want to give her the wrong idea. But then again, everyone was all up on the wrong ideas lately. Like the way she was, right this minute.

"Oh umm . . . no, the father went kind of . . . AWOL," she lied. "He's kind of a . . . deadbeat." That didn't sound so much like a lie.

"Oh, that sucks," Amber nodded sympathetically. "Just goes to show you how all sons of Adam are basically tools when you come right down to it. Not so fond of them myself."

Willow's eyes widened. Amber noted Willow's reaction and tried to recover quickly. "I guess I have to watch what I say sometimes. I always come across as a man-hating lesbian. And I'm not. I mean, it's not that I hate men as much as I really like women." She sighed and chuckled. "Look, and there my mouth goes again."

This was unbelievable. Even for the Hellmouth. How could Willow take it as anything other than a sign? Amber looked nervous, as if she was worried that she offended Willow, who was back to staring at her again.

Finally, Willow managed to utter the disconnected words, "Y-you . . . you . . . you're like . . . my ex-girlfriend . . ."

Amber relaxed and brightened. "Well I guess there was no need to worry then, you know the deal." Suddenly she tilted her head. "Is . . . that who I reminded you of? Your ex-girlfriend?"

'Reminded' was not strong enough a word. "You kind of have the same facial structure, it can confuse a girl," Willow admitted lamely.

Amber laughed. "I'm sure. But hey . . . wow, that makes your little situation a pickle doesn't it? I mean . . . pregnant lesbian, you don't see that everyday. And you say the father left? And I guess your girlfriend just did too, judging from how much you wanted to think I was her."

Willow shrugged, trying to cloak the feeling of slight pain that lingered through her. "Yeah, I get the tough breaks sometimes."

"I think that's amazing. I . . . I don't know if I'd be able to handle it. You've got to be an incredibly strong person to deal with that."

The curves of Willow's mouth lifted upwards slightly. "I've got great friends helping me handle."

"I bet. They must be amazing since you're so well-adjusted."

Just then, Willow heard a bottle smash to the floor, accompanied by loud yelping from a female voice and a low British male one. "Clean-up on aisle eight," a deadened, machine-like voice called through the store.

Willow rolled her eyes. "I think those are my amazing friends now."

Amber looked disappointed. "Oh . . . do you have to go now?"

Willow gazed back at Amber and hesitancy filled her completely. She had to stay and find out more about this girl. She had to figure out where she had come from and how she had wandered into Willow's life and what she meant. There was something magical---not majickal, but magical---in this and Willow needed to find out what it was. A sudden kick from the baby nestled in the womb seemed to signify a connection to this girl and Willow stroked her belly in wonder. "I . . I . . ."

"Red, we've got the chuffin' pickled eggs, now let's get the bloody hell out of here!" Spike called loudly across the aisles, much to Willow's embarrassment.

Amber giggled. "That you? Red?"

Willow grimaced. "Most unfortunately."

"Well . . . I guess you gotta split then," Amber frowned.

"Yeah," Willow answered, rather morose. After standing around a bit awkwardly, she finally turned and began to walk in the direction of the cash registers.

"Wait!"

Euphoric, Willow turned around and nearly ran back to Amber, but somehow controlled herself. "Yeah?"

She shifted uneasily on her combat boots. "I know this is highly inappropriate considering that you're pregnant and you just mistook me for your ex-girlfriend but . . . do you think . . . you think I could get your number? Maybe call you sometime?"

Willow was beside herself with joy. She just refrained herself from screaming "Of course!" and instead nodded politely and wrote the number on a scrap piece of paper. Amber beamed and accepted it, promising to call her soon. They parted and Willow flew in a daze back to Spike and Buffy, who by this time had lapsed into their way of making up, full-body, crammed together against the frozen food windows. Shrugging out of the blatant public groping, Buffy broke off a passionate kiss with Spike and peeked over his shoulder to see Willow with a blissfully silly look on her face.

"What's with you?" Buffy asked, straightening and smoothing her clothes.

"Nothing . . ." Willow sighed contentedly. "Just saw the face of an angel, that's all . . ."