You Started It Chapter 2: Words are fickle, a buffy: the vampire slayer fanfic

A/N: Okay, so, I said this was most likely gonna be a one-shot, but I have a few more thoughts, so I think it's more of a...buckshot. Yeah, that's it. See, you just shoot once, but you've got all these little BBs instead of just one bullet. So, basically a one-shot, only...not. A buckshot it is!

A/N #2: Say, how do you like the first person thing? This chapter is in Willow's POV, and the last was in Xander's. Should I continue to alternate between them, or should I go all omnicient on their asses? Stick with first? Switch to third? Change up the point of view? You decide! I mean, if you feel comfortable with that. I don't want to force you to make a decision you're not ready to make. If you do want to decide, mention it in a comment and I'll put the whole team on it.

Disclaimer: I just don't ever get mistaken for Joss Whedon. I really don't. This one time at the supermarket, a woman thought she knew me, but it turned out she didn't, but even in that scenario nobody thought I was Joss Whedon. Therefore, I am not Joss Whedon, and I will not seek to profit from this story. In fact, even if I did seek to profit from it, I wouldn't, because I don't know anyone who ever made a buck off fanfic, and I was never the type to pioneer a yet-untapped money-making venture. I'm more a follower than a leader. And, just to recap, I'm not Joss.

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Words are fickle. You think they're on your side because, you know, you control them: you look out over the sea of possibilities, and you pick the best ones—like choosing teams in gym class. But if you've learned anything from gym class, you should know that you don't always get to be the captain. And sometimes on that one day you're chosen as captain, you look around the group of options and see that not only are all the best players out sick, but all that's left are two stoners, a girl in headgear, and an exchange student. And that's where I am when my voice comes back. I've just been thoroughly kissed by my best friend, and now I don't know what to say.

I choose poorly.

"I—I hate to be the voice of reason, Xander, but, uh…say, don't you have a girlfriend? You know—blonde, bit older than you, stickler for fidelity..." I trail off in horror, because his face is falling, and I've done this to him before—we've done this to each other—and I wish we could just go back to kissing and not have to talk. Like, ever. No talking ever sounds pretty good to me right now.

"Oh my God, Will," he says, swiping his hand over his face. He's silent for a moment, and I'm afraid he's going to either throw something or cry, and I'm not sure I could handle either. We're still sitting on the floor, and the guilt is swirling around us, filling up the room, and as though for self-preservation, he stands suddenly, trying to rise above the flood.

He's pacing, and I follow him with my eyes, not sure whether his movement or the situation got me this dizzy. "Listen, I shouldn't have said—I mean, not that it isn't true, but that was so not the best thing to say right now," I stutter out, though nothing I say at this point will matter. The damage has been done. Again. He undoubtedly thinks he's—

"I'm—I can't control myself, ever, can I? I'm a cheater. I'm a—you know, I'm that guy. And I know what girls say, how they say we're all that guy, but I'm the actual 'that guy' who makes them think we're all that guy. But we're not all him. I'm him. I'm—"

"You're not," I say, reaching to touch his hand. He snatches it away, and I don't know if he's removing temptation or punishing himself…or punishing me. I stand and face him, stubbornly staying with him when he tries to turn away. "What about me, huh? I was here, too. I'm just as bad—worse! I'm worse, because I've always loved you. If anyone is to blame here, it's me. I'm a big floozy, that's what I am! Who's to say I haven't been lurking in the shadows all this time, just waiting for my—"

"Will, I kissed you. Not the other way around, and—wait, always? You've always…what did you—I mean, you didn't always, as in continuing from the past into the present—"

"Oh, no—obviously I meant that I did always love you. Did! I-is what I meant to say. So, just to recap…what was my point?" I'm lost. We're lost together. We're lost when we're apart, too. We're—

"We're pathetic," he says, sighing.

"Hey, speak for yourself," I counter quickly before he can wallow too much. "I have excellent grades, a snappy wardrobe and a nice head of hair, and I make great oatmeal raisin cookies." And, despite all those fabulous attributes, I can't think of a way to fix this.

"That you do." His voice is low, and I can't gauge it, and that scares me.

I move to him, and he lifts his eyes warily but doesn't move. I take his hands. We've always touched digits, after all.

I'm shaking. He's shaking. The floor is shaking, and we duck into the doorway. Earthquakes can be fortuitous sometimes.

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When I get back to the room, Riley is leaving. He can't seem to look me in the eye, and since I'm clearly not the queen of romantic observations, I come to the wrong conclusion. I open the door a crack and say, "Buffy? You decent?"

Her sarcastic laughter is no blow to my already flagging ego. It'd only be the…oh, thousandth time today I've miscalculated. I walk in and she's sitting on her bed. I sit on mine. We both stare at the floor for a few moments.

"So…how are things?" I venture.

Buffy snorts. "Peachy. Riley saw me fight the floaty guys and their loony sidekicks. He had questions. Many questions."

"And not of the 'What's your sign?" variety, I suppose."

She shakes her head. "Nor was he itchin' to know where I bought my shoes. Or how I'm doing in Eighteenth Century Lit. Boys and their misguided priorities."

"Xander kissed me," I blurt out. I had not mean to blurt—or otherwise mention—this information right at present, but this is in keeping with my conversational track record of the day.

"He what!" Buffy shrieks.

I nod wearily. "I kissed him back. It was a whole…kissing thing."

"This was during the non-verbal period?" she asks, blinking.

"Yep. I had my whiteboard, but it…well, we failed the written." I look up helplessly, and it occurs to me that I should've concentrated on Buffy's problems with Riley. How much easier that would've been…

"Will, this is huge. How do you feel about it? How does he feel? Is he gonna break up with Anya?"

"God, Buffy, I don't know if he's even gonna tell her, much less break up—I just don't know why this keeps happening to us. What kind of sick, cheating, no-conscious-having people are we?"

Buffy sighs slowly, knowingly. "I don't think it's a lack of morals we're dealing with here," she says. "I think it's worse."

I raise my eyebrows. "Demon possession?"

Buffy shakes her head seriously. "Love."

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"Huh?" I say, surprised. Then I shake my head vigorously. "No. Definitely not that."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure of my diagnosis," Buffy says confidently. "After all, I've seen this a time or two before."

"Well, your eyes deceive you this time. Believe me. There's nothing like that going on here. But we should maybe look into that demon possession thing, because—"

"Because you're scared."

Damn Buffy and her Spidey sense that works on things other than vamps and…well, spiders. "I'm not. It's not that at all. I'm just…" What was that word Xander used? Pathetic.

Buffy gets up and comes over to my bed. She drops down beside me and I'm afraid this gesture might actually make me cry if I think too hard about it, about my day. "What do you think he'll tell Anya?" she asks gently.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "We agreed we both needed time to think. I don't even know if he should tell her at all. Maybe I'm just meant to…I'm destined to be—I'm the cheese!" I choke out, and flop down on the bed.

Buffy rubs my back and squeezes my shoulder a little harder than she realizes. "Will, you are many things, but you are not the cheese," she says reassuringly. "Wait—what is the cheese?"

I sit up and wipe my face. "You know, thecheese. The one that stands alone. Xander's the farmer and Anya's his wife, and there are various farm animals, and I'm—I'm the cheese." I sniff loudly, having talked myself into the beginnings of a crying jag.

Buffy hands me a kleenex from my nightstand and gives me a tight hug. "Oh, that cheese. Well, don't you worry about that. I'm a little cheesy myself right now. We can be sisters in fromage." She grins and I can't help smiling back. "But, Will?"

"Uh huh?"

"You know how much Xander likes cheese."

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A/N: Just a reminder, I'm seeking suggestions for POV and person for the next chapter. So far, I've done 1st person Xander's POV and 1st person Willow's POV. Should I continue to alternate, or branch out in a whole new direction? A'course, if I don't get any suggestions, I'll figure out something on my own. I'm just sayin'.