Buffy pushed the bowl of popcorn to the side and leaned back on the sofa. "Ugh. Full. I think I ate half of Iowa's yearly harvest."
Willow, sitting on the floor at Buffy's feet, giggled and hugged her friend's legs against her chest. "You need it! You have to keep up your energy for slaying and stuff. You can't beat up the bad guys on an empty stomach!"
"I can't beat them with popcorn coming out of my nose either…" She paused, grimaced. "Or, I could, but it wouldn't be pretty."
Buffy turned her eyes away from the movie and ran a hand through Willow's hair, making the redhead close her eyes and hum with delight.
"It's that point in a Buffy-Willow-Girl-Night where you become a barnacle and just hang on to me, isn't it?"
"Oh, well… yeah," Willow admitted. "I think that part started fifteen minutes ago."
"Knew I should have signed up for the Willow Times newsletter."
"Ooh! You should!" She wriggled in excitement. "The newsletter comes with a crossword and a jumble puzzle. It's high-quality journalism and tips on dark magic, mixed with a hefty dose of fun!"
Buffy wrinkled her nose and smiled. "Please tell me there isn't actually a newsletter."
Willow turned and stuck out her tongue.
"If there is, though," Buffy mused, "would it happen to have any coverage of that major hand bandage business? You still haven't told me what's up with that." She took the other girl's hand in her own and turned it slowly over, looking at the thick cloth wrapping around the palm.
"I — I didn't? I think I told you."
"Nope. You definitely suggested we watch old movies and eat popcorn when I asked."
"That sounds like you!"
"It might have been. Let's not point fingers." Buffy frowned. "Especially when that might make your hand fall off."
Willow took her hand back slowly and fixed her gaze on the floor.
"Well… so, you know that whole thing I can do with pencils and stuff?"
Buffy nodded. "Yep. Flying writing implements are firmly on your resume."
Willow hung her head. "Sometimes it — it goes better than other times."
Buffy blinked. "You lost control so hard you stabbed yourself?
"Uh-huh."
"And you cut your hand in half?" she said slowly.
The redhead nodded silently, looking away.
"Geez, Wil. Never underestimate the power of good ol' No. 2. I've been choosing my stakes wrong this whole time."
She sat up, suddenly alarmed, and Willow turned wide-eyed to face her.
"Buffy..?" Willow asked, wondering what she said, what subtle slip she made, that let her friend catch on to the lie.
"Do you think Mr. Pointy heard that?" Buffy murmured, glancing around nervously.
"... I really hope you're joking."
"Yeah, you're right." Buffy nodded, relaxing with a sigh. "I would never forget to put him back in his drawer. He's out of earshot." She struck a confident pose and smiled at Willow. "You may safely talk about the glory of Our Lady Ticonderoga."
"You — you've got some popcorn on your boobs." Willow stared.
"Whoops." Buffy brushed the offending bit away. "Movie snackage got a little out of control tonight. There's been some collateral damage." She fixed Willow with a look. "You didn't help me with the popcorn at all."
"I — I've been kinda not hungry."
"Or talkative. Or into telling me about cute things Oz has done. Really, Wil. That's everything girls' night stands for!"
Willow's jaw dropped in mock outrage. "I have barnacled as well as I ever have! I am clinging at maximum efficiency. Clingy Willow is an essential part of a balanced girl's night."
Buffy gave her legs an experimental shake. "Yep. You're on there pretty tight." But the look on her face didn't let Willow off the hook.
The witch sighed and put her head on Buffy's knee. Her words were almost quiet enough to miss in the sounds of the TV.
"Sometimes I just wonder if Oz and I go well together."
This was more what Buffy was waiting for. The blonde pulled Willow easily up onto the sofa — paused to let Willow find a Slayer arm to hold onto — and rubbed the girl's shoulder.
"Boy troubles?"
Willow hadn't planned on talking about this. It had built up over weeks, months. She had wished for any escape from the uncomfortable truth about her hand, but… not this escape. The news about Oz just came out on its own. But she couldn't go back now.
She did what she always did: she buried her face in Buffy's neck, wrapped her arms around the other girl, breathed in deep; when she smelled her the blonde's shampoo, felt the heat coming off her friend's body, it was as if a door inside her unlocked. It always worked this way.
"I — I've been thinking recently. About me and Oz. And about how those two things — I mean, us, people things — might not… might… not work. So well. And maybe that's how it is."
Buffy stroked her friend's hair. "What isn't working? Is this because of Xander?"
"Not Xander. He's a — a symptom. Xander is. Not the reason. It's — I can't — everything is wrong. Everything. Everything —"
Before she could stop herself, the tears started coming, and she said her piece in short, muffled bursts:
"Oz is so cute and nice — not sure why I feel like this — terrible girlfriend — deserves better than me — so cute — want to be good to him — feel so empty sometimes —"
Buffy was trained in the art of Willow-reading, but even she only caught snippets. It was enough, though, to form a picture. She held the other girl and listened.
"Try so hard sometimes — feel like I'm broken — can't find what I'm doing wrong — like I'm just not right — you and Angel never have this —" And then there was just sobbing left.
"Wil, it's okay." She spoke in nothing more than a whisper, her lips only inches from Willow's ear. "It's never all sunshine and daisies and whatever else. Heck, with Angel, there's a pretty strict ban on sunshine, and the one time I got flowers, he also gave me a note about how he was gonna kill me." Buffy furrowed her brow in thought. "Which is a shame. Other than that, they were nice flowers. I was kinda half-wooed."
"But —" Willow sniffed, ignoring the last comment. "You seem so happy."
"I am happy," Buffy admitted. "But that doesn't mean I don't have doubts."
"Doubts?"
Buffy sighed. She hadn't planned on this, either. In fact, she had made a point of avoiding thinking about, talking about, or acknowledging this, in the hopes it would just go away. And she would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for Willow.
"Angel and I are…" She released her friend, sat back a few inches. The girls caught each other's gaze for just a moment, then Buffy's eyes dropped as her own tears started.
"He says that it's best if we go our separate ways. And I don't want it. And I'm going to try to convince him otherwise." She said each word clipped, perfect and quiet, like she was reading the news. She breathed deeply, summoned up her final reserve of strength, and managed one more sentence in that balanced tone:
"I don't think everything's going to work out."
She held that composure for just a moment. Then she broke down.
Willow hiccuped back a sob. She didn't have the right words, and Buffy didn't need them. She hugged Buffy for everything she was worth.
They held each other for a while as the TV played on in the background.
It would have stayed like that — Slayer and Witch, bound in misery and need — but for the popcorn bowl, in a fit of malevolence, losing its purchase on the sofa and tipping onto the floor.
Buffy drew back slowly, eyes red, and fixed her baleful gaze on the mess of kernels and salt scattered on the floor.
"At least you finished the popcorn," Willow observed.
Buffy glared at her, then broke into giggles.
And like that, everything was okay.
"Things will be okay." Willow said.
"Things will. Things are prescription-strength good."
"You think so?" the witch asked quietly. "Really?"
"Really really," she affirmed, and squeezed Willow one last time.
"Acgh — Slayer super hug," Willow wheezed. "Ribs cracking. Miss oxygen."
"Sorry. Curse of being the Chosen One. Hugs are a problem."
They sat, smiling at nothing, for a quiet moment.
"Thanks, Buffy."
"Anytime, Wil. You're my best friend." She cast a glance down at her shirt. "You better not have gotten snot on my pajamas, though."
"Nope. I think it's all tears and popcorn."
"Girls' night party mix. Gotcha."
