"Baby?"

"Hmm?" Tara rolled onto her side, gazing over at her girlfriend. Willow was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, which was the first sign of trouble; usually Willow was cuddly and curled into Tara even in her sleep.

"You awake?" Willow asked. She sounded almost panicked.

"I am now." Tara reached out, playing with the fabric of Willow's pajama sleeve. "What's up?"

"Do you ever worry?" Willow mumbled, voice slightly wobbly.

"'Bout what?" Tara was honestly bemused. It had been a regular night; lots of studying, a touch of magic, and some kissing before bed. Willow had fallen asleep smiling, and Tara had fallen asleep snuggled into Willow. She didn't know why Willow was suddenly upset, but she did recognize that the middle of the night could evoke worries that seemed ridiculous in daylight. She moved closer to Willow and rubbed her shoulder. "Willow, what's wrong?"

"What if you die?" Willow rolled over to face her, eyes teary and lower lip trembling. It was times like this that Tara could see the frightened little girl in Willow, the one she so rarely got the chance to protect. Most of the time, it was Willow protecting her.

This inspired Tara. "I'm not going to die anytime soon. I have you to protect me." She leaned forward, kissing Willow contentedly. Willow's hands moved to grab the front of Tara's top, pulling them so close that Tara couldn't move without bumping into her. She wound an arm around Willow's waist—

"…no, no kisses now," Willow mumbled almost to herself, pulling away from Tara. "I need to think this over or it'll worry me again and it'll just get worse and spiral. Like a snowball! Or, um, get bigger like a snowball. I don't know if snowballs—"

"Willow—"

"—spiral…" Willow trailed off, looking up at Tara.

"Willow, you're sleepy and worried," Tara reminded her. "It'll be better in the morning, okay?" She threaded her fingers through Willow's hair, but Willow pulled away.

"No, it won't, because I worry about it all the time." Willow grabbed Tara's hand, holding it to her chest. "What happens if you die? What do I do? I mean, there was that really nice guy in my class, Frank or Todd or something, and I saw Buffy stake him two nights ago. And we're living in a crazy dangerous place, and some demon might eat you, or a vampire might turn you—"

"I promise I will not get eaten by a demon, okay?" Tara informed her, unable to stop her amused smile.

"I'm not joking, Tara!" Willow's voice was becoming louder, a little over regular speaking volume, which was unusual for most of their midnight conversations. "It's scary here, and you're sweet and wonderful, and sweet and wonderful things don't live here, they just die here, a-and—" Willow's voice broke as she fell forward into Tara's chest, sobbing.

"Oh, Willow," Tara whispered. Her heart hurt.

"I-I don't know what I'll do i-if you die!"

"Shh, it's okay." Tara stroked Willow's hair, holding her close.

"No, it's not!" Willow looked up, face tear-streaked. "It won't be! What ha-happens if you die? I can't, I—"

"Honey. I will not let anything eat me or turn me or stab me, okay?" Tara promised. "Okay?"

Willow looked doubtful.

"Okay?" Tara placed a hand on Willow's cheek.

"Okay," Willow whispered, and a very small smile ghosted over her face before she leaned in and kissed Tara again. She tasted salty and wet. Tara kissed her until Willow's tears were dry on her cheeks, and a little after for good measure.