Disclaimer: All Buffy/Angel characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions. All Hellsing characters (or, at least, the ones I am using) are derived from the originals, which could possibly be owned by Kouta Hirano, Young King Ours, Shōnen Gahosha, Dark Horse Comics, or Gonzo. Used without permission, and with no intent to assume any kinds of rights over any of the characters.

When Buffy walked Willow home, the house was quiet and dark. Buffy couldn't stay; she had to get back home before her mother figured out that the Slayer had left against her wishes, but Willow told her she'd be all right.

None-the-less, the first thing she did was call for her mother, her tone becoming more and more upset and needy as she got no response. Willow knew that her father was at a convention, presenting a paper that he had worked long and hard on before his peers. It was a major coup for such a young Psychiatrist, so Willow didn't really judge him for it. It was just one of many times that she really, really wished that she had her parents when she needed them. Picking her way through the house she found the reason there was no answer, in a note on the refrigerator.

Called in for an emergency consult on an abused teen in Boston. Dinner inside.
Love and Kisses,
Ima

Tears spilled from the redhead's eyes as she collapsed to her knees, now proven bereft of any kind of support. Curling up on the floor, she allowed herself to cry, horrible wrenching sobs ripping their way out of her throat.

She didn't know how long she lay there, though a glance through the window showed the sky lightening from midnight black to early morning dark blue, before she got up off the kitchen floor. Moving like a zombie, she retreated to her room and climbed into bed with her clothes on, snagging a box of Kleenex on the way.

Half an hour later, the bedroom floor was littered with used tissues, and a soft hiccupping snore came from the bed.

A little more than seven hours later, Willow woke up to see the sun shining into her room. It really wasn't fair that the sun should be so bright when she felt so dismal, but what could she do about it? She cleaned up the tissues from the floor on automatic, much as Xander would pray in church the next day, her programmed habits too ingrained to do otherwise. Her mother would not tolerate a mess. In the living room, she found that she couldn't sit still. She picked up the telephone to call Xander, but the connection wouldn't go through. It said the line was disconnected. Which either meant Xander's parents hadn't paid the bill, or they had pulled the phone out of the wall. Both had happened before, so it wasn't really unusual.

That left her with only one option. She went back upstairs, took a shower and otherwise cleaned herself up. She put on makeup to cover what cleaning couldn't. And then she walked out of the house, locked the door, and headed down the block to knock on another person's door. The door was answered by a woman wearing a long skirt below the knee. This was someone Willow knew.

"Hello, Mrs. Levinson. Is Jon here?"

"No, dear. He's still in shul, but he should be back soon. Do you want to come in?"

Willow winced. She'd have to teach Jonathan to teach his parents not to do that, with what she knew now. It was the least she should do. She and Jonathan were friends. Not like with Jesse and Xander, but friends. It wasn't quite what their parents wanted, but the Rosenbergs and Levinsons should have known better than to try and put together a shidduch when the children themselves were only nine years old.

If Jesse, Willow, and Xander were the Three Musketeers, then Jonathan would have been d'Artagnan. He was their friend, but not their bosom buddy, as it were.

"Okay," she said, finally, stepping past the door, settling to a seat at the Levinson kitchen table. She absently watched as Jonathan's mother collected a set of stuffed sausages still in their skins from the slow-cooker she was hovered over. She carefully sliced the sausage and then placed it back in the cooker so that it would stay warm.

"Cholent and kishke, huh?" Willow said, her stomach making an embarrassing gurgle at the mention of food. Willow began to turn about as red as her hair.

"As usual, dear," Jonathan's mother said. "Did you want to stay for lunch?"

Willow shook her head quickly, "No, no, that's okay. I have food back at the house." By this time, her cheeks were in high color. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me there."

"It's nothing to apologize for. I consider it a compliment, Willow. Really, you must sta..."

"Mom, we're home!" came Jonathan's call from the front of the house, followed by the thundering sound of a teenager headed upstairs to change clothes. The doorway from the rest of the house was soon filled with the presence of Jonathan's father, who stepped into the room to give his wife a hug and kiss. "Good shabbos, hon," he said, before he noticed Willow, who was carefully looking away. "And good shabbos to you too, little Bina."

"Daaaaaaaaad," came Jonathan's voice as he entered the room. "You don't need to embarrass her like that." He rolled his eyes and looked over at the redhead, "Hiya, Willow. Whatcha doin' he..." His voice trailed off for a moment, taking in Willow's slightly puffy red eyes, and he frowned. Then he snapped his fingers and turned back to his parents. "Aw man, I completely forgot I was supposed to go to Willow's place today. Is it okay if we go?"

"Sure, son," Jonathan's father responded. "Be back in time for minchah, though."

"All right, dad," Jonathan said, offering his hand to the redhead. "Let's go, Willow."

They were quiet for the entire walk back to Willow's house, though she never let go of his hand, something that was very unusual. Jonathan was getting more and more worried, but he knew Willow wouldn't break down in public. Once they were inside, though, he turned on her, as she leaned against the closed door. "All right, Willow. What happened? Why have you been crying?" He didn't know what he would do; he wasn't very strong, so he couldn't go beat anyone up or anything like that.

Willow slowly lifted her head back up, her hair still covering most of her face. Then she launched herself at Jonathan so hard that he barely managed to remain standing. She babbled. "Oh,it''sDEAD!" She took a deep breath, apparently intending to continue.

Now, Jonathan wasn't quite as proficient at Willow-babble as Xander and Jesse were; the three of them spent a lot more time together than Jonathan did with any of them. But he picked out Jesse's and Xander's names, and a couple other words that made no sense at all... until he got to the last. "WHAT?!" he almost shrieked, pushing Willow away to stand at arm's length. "Wait, Willow, slow down. You didn't just say what I thought you said, did you? You didn't say that Jesse was... he was dead?"

Willow was sniffling and looking away, but then she nodded her head. Jonathan paled, his arms dropping to his sides, and he turned away, stumbling until he managed to end up in one of the living room chairs.

"How? What? Why?!"

"You'll never believe it. You'll think I'm crazy," Willow said, having slumped against the front door once more.

"Of course I'll believe you. And I already know you're crazy," he said, taking a stab at levity. It fell flat, but Willow gave him a mirthless smile anyway.

"No, you won't. Not this. This is too unbelievable without backup. But... right now, right now, I need someone to be here with me. I wouldn't have bothered you about this..."

"It's not a bother. I'm your friend. That's what friends are for."

"... but Xander's phone service is out again. Hisparents probablyforgottopay the phonebill again." Willow was ramping back up into 'babble' speed again, but she caught it and took a few large breaths to get it under control. "If you really want... need to know, then come to the school library after classes on Monday."

Jonathan nodded, "Okay." He stayed with Willow the rest of the day. He missed both minchah and maariv, calling his parents afterwards to tell him that he'd lost track of time. He got yelled at, but, comparatively speaking, it was a minor thing.

* * * *

Sunnydale High School

Lunchroom

Noon

"And, on today's menu.... pig slop!" Xander said, theatrically. "Oh wait, sorry. That's just the gravy, isn't it?" He smiled toothily at the put-upon expression on the lunchlady's face. What was she gonna do? Poison them? The food would probably taste better!

Xander took his tray towards the far corner of the lunchroom, where Buffy and Willow were both already sitting, heads bent over something... ah, looked like The Math. Xander feared The Math, but he'd sit with them anyway. He didn't really notice how the crowd opened up to let him pass, whispers of the raging argument he'd had with Cordelia earlier causing a shift in reaction to him. He just settled down and put on a false smile. "So, how are the two most lovely ladies of Sunnydale High today?"

Willow looked up, her own smile hovering on her face as she got ready to reply. Then her eyes shifted to a position behind Xander, and she blanched. Xander began to turn to look when someone grabbed his ear and pulled hard.

"Harris, you're coming with me. Now!" Cordelia Chase continued to pull on Xander's ear.

Xander didn't really have a choice: either he could follow or he'd get his ear pulled off. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!"

"Oh come on, you big sissy man. I'm not hurting you that much!" With that, Cordelia dragged him past the doors and down the hallway. For a moment, she slowed as they passed the Janitor's closet. 'Too small,' she thought to herself.

They reached one of the deserted classrooms, and Cordelia dragged him inside, releasing his ear so she could lock the door.

Finally, Cordelia turned so that her back was to the door, and that's when the most alarming thing yet happened: she slumped and leaned backward, her entire attitude shifting. Xander's jaw dropped open.

Because he was no longer faced with Queen Cordelia Chase, Sunnydale High Rich Bitch, but an entirely different person. It was still Cordelia, of course, but she looked tired, and like she was barely holding things together. "Tell me what happened," she said.

"Bwah, bwah, bwah..." Xander responded, semi-panicked.

"Try using English instead of your own geek language," Cordelia responded, Queen C resurfacing for a bare moment. "Tell me what happened to Jesse."

Xander's anger surged, giving him some semblance of control back. "What do you care?! You hated Jesse with all your guts!"

Cordelia's own anger popped up there. "What kind of monster do you take me for?" When Xander opened his mouth to give a smart-ass answer, she added, "Don't answer that. Of course I care, damn it! We may not be in the same social circles, we may not be friends, but we all grew up together. This is a tiny town, Xander. What affects one person affects another. And... and..."

And then another alarming change happened. Her anger ebbed, and her tired look grew almost painful to see. "And now I'll never get a chance to know if there really was anything beyond the boy beyond that I liked to tease him. You don't think I'll regret that? You don't think that hurts in ways I don't even want to think about? Well, you've got another think coming, Mister. Now, you tell me what happened to him. I'm not letting you go until you do."

"You really think you could stop me?" Xander said, glancing at the door.

"I really think you're too much of a gentleman to get physical with a lady when talking would be enough," Cordelia replied, promptly.

Xander was flummoxed. There was no way he could successfully argue with that. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and finally said, "I don't know where to start."

Cordelia could practically feel Xander's anger ebbing away, leaving only the heart-bottoming sadness welling up from him in waves. In those few classes that they shared, he'd been feeling angry - a simmering anger that had made everyone, including most of the teachers, avoid him. But now, all there was was a person in pain, and it was all Cordelia could do to not burst into tears herself.

"I can't tell you what happened to him here," Xander finally said. "It's too crazy. You won't understand without backup. But there's one thing you have to know. That thing at the Bronze, that thing that grabbed you, it wasn't Jesse. It was just a monster using his face. You have to believe me." He looked up at her, only for his eyes to widen when he saw her shaking.

"I... I... I thought that was just a dream. Just a terrible, awful nightmare. Tell me it was a nightmare, Xander. Please tell me that I don't really remember Jesse McNally about to rape me."

Xander was up and out of his seat in less than a second, pulling the trembling Cordelia into his arms. "No, Cordelia. You don't really remember Jesse McNally about to rape you." In his mind, he added, 'What he intended to do was probably a lot worse.'

He stroked Cordelia's hair, trying to comfort her. At least half of him did not believe what he was doing at all. He was the treasurer of the We Hate Cordelia Club, after all. But all he saw was a woman in pain, and he had to react. He couldn't NOT react. A mirthless part of him thought that Jesse was probably laughing his head off, up in Heaven. Well, either that or growling at him for 'getting' his girl.

Outside the door, Buffy Summers tilted her head slightly, letting her Slayer hearing do the work. She smiled faintly. Even against his greatest enemy, Xander Harris is a sucker for a woman in pain, she thought to herself. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, really. It's definitely kind of sweet, though.

"Is he all right?" Willow asked. Buffy'd explained that she'd be able to hear them and they wouldn't be any the wiser.

"I think he is. Or will be. I think both of them will be," Buffy said with a nod, drawing a confused look from her redheaded compatriot. "Let's leave them be for now. We'll see them later, in class." She walked off, taking Willow in tow.

It took almost the entire lunch period for Cordelia to calm down. Not long after Buffy and Willow stepped away, she put her arms around Xander as well, her shudders beginning to subside. Why do I feel so... so... safe in Xander's arms. All we ever do is argue with each other. I don't even know why he's doing this. I don't know why I'm doing it. But I'm not going to lie to myself. I do feel safe.

"So, if you can't tell me here," she said, her chin on Xander's shoulder. "Where can you tell me?"

For a moment, Xander could have sworn he heard Jesse's voice say in his head, 'Oh, the Janitor's closet seems like a good place.' He shook that off for a moment, attributing it to the current situation and how Jesse had always followed Cordelia around like a 'faithful puppy,' as Cordy had called it.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked. "Because, once you do, there's no going back. And it's not something you can talk with the rest of your Cordettes and the like about."

"I want to... no, I need to know," Cordelia responded, half-reluctantly releasing the King Geek.

Xander rocked back on his heels, looking into the other brunette's eyes, as if trying to divine her seriousness despite what she said.

Finally, he nodded. "Come to the school library after classes. We'll take it from there." He moved to the door, unlocked it, and stepped through, just as the bell rang announcing the end of the period (and the start of the next one). "Ooooh, man...! I didn't get a chance to eat!" could be heard echoing back into the room.

Cordelia actually laughed a little hysterically at that, wrapping her arms around herself in an effort to either retain some of Xander's body warmth, or give herself enough time to let Queen C rise back to the fore. By the time she stepped out the door, noone would have known that anything would have happened to her.

Author's Notes: 'Ima' is the Hebrew word for 'mother'. 'Shul' is Yiddish for 'synagogue.' 'Shidduch' is a Hebrew word for the system of Jewish matchmaking. In short, the Rosenbergs and Levinsons tried to play matchmaker for their kids when they were nine years old. 'Minchah' is the afternoon prayer (which is usually actually done closer to early evening). 'Maariv' is the evening/night service. (And, even though it isn't mentioned, the morning service is 'Shacharis'.)

The fact that Xander attended Willow's Bat Mitzvah means at least two things: one, there is a synagogue in Sunnydale, and two, that Willow has a Hebrew name. The latter is because the Bar/Bat Mitzvah is about recognizing a Jewish child as responsible for their own actions. Amongst other things, they are called upon by their Hebrew name.

In Judaism, the selection of a Hebrew name is one of the most important decisions new parents can make. It is taught that a person's Hebrew name has an influence ON that person.

I've chosen the name 'Bina Keila' for Willow. 'Bina' means understanding, intelligence, wisdom, and I think it's obvious why I chose that for Willow. 'Keila' is a Yiddish word derived from the Hebrew 'Keli,' which means 'vessel'. A talented person is often called that - Keli - a complete vessel, capable of performing great things.

Oh, and don't assume that just because Jonathan's mother looks like 'one of the good ones' that she didn't contribute to exactly what he was like in the series. I know more than my share of Jewish mothers, and there's an ugly side to even that: they're usually experts on guilt!

Also: Here are some descriptions of Cholent and Kishke, a couple of traditional Eastern European/Jewish Sabbath foods:

.org/wiki/Cholent

.org/wiki/Kishka_(food)