A/N: Happy Christmakkah everyone! Enjoy the kissage!

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Oz sat wordlessly playing Giles' guitar and waiting for the tension of the previous moment to dull. It occurred vaguely to him that Willow was still staring at him, but he didn't dare look her in the eyes. God only knew where things would go from there.

Willow's mind was still slowly processing what had just happened. Why had Oz looked at her that way… touched her that way? Finding herself unable to answer her own question, she settled on contemplating what she already knew: that when she was with him – as cliché as it may sound – all her pain just seemed to melt away. Did she really want that? Did she really want some one who would make her forget her past, or did she want to hold on? Again, she was at a loss for answers.

Oz couldn't take the silence any more. Finally, he looked up and began speaking. "I was thinking about calling Devon some time soon, since it looks like I'm going to be here for a while. Maybe we could do the Dingoes reunion tour…" he was relieved to see that Willow was smiling and nodding in return. "You know, you're even more beautiful than I remembered," Oz said, stating bluntly what he was thinking. He quickly moved on as if he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary. "So anyway, if all the guys are still around, we could probably start up again. That is, if Devon hasn't already drunk himself into oblivion."

Willow laughed softly, her mind still playing over what he had just said… "You know, you're even more beautiful than I remembered…"

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Buffy sat on the grass in the cemetery, propped up against a grave. She closed her eyes and wondered exactly how she had ended up in this same old graveyard. She knew it all too well. It was where she had shared her first kiss with Spike, not to mention her last. In spite of herself, she found her mind wandering over to her former lover's crypt. She knew that she had come here looking for him, but she was afraid of was she might find. She opened her eyes and stood up, glaring at the sun's now ever-present gleam. She walked resolutely over to Spike's crypt and burst through the door.

She found herself being greeted by blaring rock music. She restrained her laughter as her vision found Spike, bounding around his small living room area, head-banging. She walked a little farther into the dank underground home, now able to make out the lyrics that Spike was screaming along to.

"…With a flick of the switch she can satisfy! She gonna blow you all sky high! Flash the eye! Electrify! A power force you should feel! She devil! She evil! She got you screaming on a lightnin' mach- SLAYER!" Spike had whirled around and seen Buffy watching him. He stopped singing and promptly tripped over his television, tumbling onto the small table which smashed under his weight and falling to the hard ground in a heap with the TV landing on top of him. "Bloody hell woman, don't you knock?!" he yelled over the continuing rock music.

"Oh please. I'm the Slayer. I never knock," she answered smugly, because for once she wasn't the one that was humiliated. Spike disentangled himself from the wreckage and got to his boot-clad feet.

"What'd you come here for anyway?" Spike said, sauntering over to her and attempting to regain his usually smooth composure. "Can't stay away from me, can you, Slayer?"

She backed away a couple of paces, quickly shifting gears from laughter to seriousness. "I just… wanted to know… how."

"How what?" he ventured.

"How did you get it back? Your soul, I mean."

"Is that it, then?" he asked, stopping. "Well, I endured numerous painful trials and nearly died. I think that about sums it up, don't you?"

"But… why?"

"Jesus, Buffy, I thought I'd told you enough times already, but apparently not," he said, walking towards her again. This time he was pleased to see that she didn't try to move away from him. She merely looked up at him with mingled innocence, curiosity, and expectancy. "You know damn well why."

"Just say it to me. I need to hear it, not just… know it," Buffy said, peering pleading up into his blue eyes. She inwardly marveled at how much things had changed. She was practically begging him to say those three words that she wouldn't even allow him to get out a couple of years ago.

Spike knew what she needed from him. He placed a hand on the side of her face, his expression softening. "I love you, and I always will."

Looking back, Buffy wondered exactly what came over her, but before she knew what she was doing, she had thrown her arms around Spike's neck and proceeded to snog the unlife out of him.

¤

Willow and Oz were back to researching in silence, Giles' guitar safely tucked away in its case again. Oz shut the book he was reading and took a swig from his can of Mountain Dew before getting up to return the book to its place on the shelf. Willow looked up at him.

"Okay, usually I'm all about the books, but this is getting really boring…" she sighed, laying her head down on the open book on the desk below. "And this stupid rolling chair is giving me butt cramps."

Oz nodded in agreement, picked out a new book, and sat back down. He glanced over at Willow, who was adjusting herself uncomfortably in her chair. He sniggered.

"Oh you think it's funny?" she said with mock anger. "Well, is this-" she lunged forward and began furiously tickling his sides, "-funny?!"

"GAHH!" Oz yelled, flailing his arms around at Willow, who was laughing maniacally. One of his best kept secrets (aside from the whole werewolf thing) was that he was insanely ticklish. She continued to relentless tickle him, laughing as he squirmed around in his chair, knocking the can of Mountain Dew and his book off of the table in his retaliation efforts. As much as he despised being tickled, he loved Willows touch. He grabbed her by the shoulders in an attempt to make her stop. And it worked. Except now they were left with Willow's hands on Oz's waist and Oz's arms on Willow's shoulders. There was a long moment of silence and tension between the two, each watching the other, breathlessly anticipating the next move. Finally, Oz leaned in and planted his lips directly onto Willow's.

Willow eyes remained open, still taking in what had just happened. Willow the Wicca Lesbian was being kissed by Oz the Stoic Werewolf. Holy shit. Suddenly, she repelled herself from him with such force that the rolling chairs they were sitting in went speeding off in different directions. Oz ricocheted off of the wall, while Willow crashed into the bookshelf. She covered her mouth with her hand. He gave her a terrified look before getting out of his chair and leaving the house. She could faintly here his van peeling out as he sped off down the street.

He kissed me. Oz. He kissed me. Me. And Oz. Kissing. Like we used to do. Back when I loved him. But wait, I still love him.

A book fell off of the bookshelf and hit Willow in the head, knocking her out of her stupor.

"What the hell am I still doing here?!?!!?"

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A/N: Yes, yes, I know some of it was cheesy. Please forgive me!