Over the next few days, Willow's infatuation with Malcolm continued to grow. Not in a bad way, I mean, it didn't alter her ever pleasant and adorable personality, but all the same she was drifting away from us, ever so slightly.

She didn't want to spend as much time with Xander as she had before, which was only natural, and I think Xander was finally starting to get jealous of the attention she was paying Malcolm.

Personally, I was happy for her, though still cautious. I could see both sides of the argument with Willow having a boyfriend she'd never actually met, so, I remained perched on the proverbial fence, ready to fall off on either side. If this Malcolm person turned out to be a threat, I wouldn't hesitate to end him. However, if it turned out to be beneficial, I would support Willow in her newfound love.

For now, however, I was still watching.

The first hint that was something was starting to change in her life, was when Willow arrived late one day for gym class.

Willow is ALWAYS punctual, and I had noticed her absence earlier in the day and had all but gone into a panic, immediately assuming she'd been drained of her blood by some horrible creature. I'd even skipped a class to go to her home and check on her.

Don't tell anyone I did that, they'll think I'm over-protective. Which I am, but they don't need to know this.

Anyway, I found her asleep in bed, and it didn't look as though she'd moved at all after she climbed in bed, which more than likely meant she'd gone to bed late, and was too tired to even move in her sleep.

My suspicions were confirmed when Willow came scurrying into the girl's locker room.

I was only there to talk with Buffy. I hate gym class, so I usually hide in the girl's bathroom while it's going on.

"You're a little late." Buffy commented as Willow fumbled with the lock on her locker.

"I overslept." She said, still blinking tiredly

"'Til fifth period?" Buffy asked. "You talk to Malcolm last night?"

That put a smile back on Willow's face. She grinned happily and swung the door of her locker open.

"Yeah," she giggled, then caught the odd look on Buffy's face. Her smile slipped a little.

"What?" she asked. I glanced at Buffy, giving her a warning look. The other day I'd caught Xander and Buffy talking about how Malcolm was probably a circus freak who was going to use an axe to murder Willow. I only prayed she had the tact to not say that in front of Willow.

"Oh, nothing." Buffy shrugged, turning away.

It wasn't terribly convincing.

Willow sighed.

"You're having an expression." She said.

"I'm not!" Buffy insisted, but her tone grew quiet, "But, if I was it'd be saying this just isn't like you."

"What I think Buffy means," I interjected, "is that we're just a little worried. I thought you were ill. Just don't let a boyfriend impede on your sleep, you don't want to get sick or overly fatigued, especially with exams approaching."

I had tried to sound as non-judgmental and preachy as possible, but Willow still got a hurt look on her face and sat down. She looked from Buffy back to me, then back to Buffy.

"I don't understand why you don't want me to have this." She said quietly. "I mean, boys don't chase me around all the time. I thought you'd be happy for me."

I groaned internally. This wasn't going well. I could feel an argument brewing, and my first instinct was to flee. I even took a step towards the door, but decided I had best linger, just in case. Even though I really didn't want to.

"I just want you to be sure." Buffy said. "Meet him face to face…in broad daylight, in a very crowded place with some friends." She should have stopped there, and it might have been all right, but she kept going.

"You know, before you become…obsessive."

I cringed at the word and immediately knew she'd said the wrong thing entirely.

The door looked especially inviting now.

"Malcolm and I really care about each other." She said defensively, "So what if I blow off a couple of classes?"

"Thought you said you'd overslept?" Buffy pointed out.

"Malcolm said you wouldn't understand." Willow answered with a frown. I answered it with one of my own. This wasn't like Willow. Willow didn't lie. It just wasn't her nature.

"Malcolm was right." Buffy answered, closed her locker, and walked off.

Willow watched her, hurt, but I loitered for a moment.

"Dear heart," I murmured, after a moment of awkward silence, "I'm not going to tell you what to do. You're nigh grown, you can make your own decision about who you want to talk to and when you want to talk to them. Just keep in mind the cause and effect of what you do. Don't let your grades or other relationships suffer because of a boy, charming though he may be."

Willow frowned at me.

"Haven't you ever given up a little time to be with someone you love?" Willow demanded.

I smiled.

"All I have is time, dear heart." I reminded her. "Too much of it." I sighed and rubbed the back of my head, trying to decide how to word what I wanted to say to her.

I walked over to the bench she was standing in front of, and sat myself down on it.

"I suppose I've just been away from the courting scenario for too long, but please, be careful. Don't let someone poison your attitude towards the ones you love. Don't let him change you, Willow. You don't need to be changed."

"What do you mean?"

"When he said Buffy wouldn't understand, he couldn't have known that for sure. He's just assuming. So don't always take what he says as gospel. Remember that your friends love you, and just worry for you. Our concern is probably annoying, and you'll think we're overreacting, but we just care. Just bear with us, that's all."

We sat in silence for a moment, and then Willow sighed and sat down next to me.

"I'm sorry." She said, "I didn't mean to cause a fuss. I suppose I did get a bit defensive."

She paused again, and I saw her big brown eyes glance at me shyly.

"What is it, sweetling?" I asked, sensing she wanted to ask me something.

"Have you ever…lied to be with someone you love? Even just for a while?"

I hesitated, frowning.

"Yes." I finally answered. "Every time I've ever been with…anyone. I've lied. About my age, about what I am…about everything. But especially the last time."

Willow smiled sympathetically.

"What happened the last time?" then she gave a small laugh, "When was the last time?"

"1944." I answered. "That was the very last time I ever tried to have a relationship with a human."

"What happened?" Willow asked.

I sighed. I hadn't even though of this in so long, and feeling the heavy, painful weight on my chest reminded why this was.

"What always happens in war." I answered. "People get torn apart. Loved ones die, and all because of one madman."

There was another silence.

"Who was he?"

I smiled softly, his face returning to my memory, as clear and perfect as if he was standing right in the room with me. Soft, chestnut hair, with that stubborn cowlick in the back his mother was forever trying to smooth down. Those laughing blue eyes, always jocular and full of mirth.

He'd looked so young, then, when we first met. He was like a child. To me, anyway. He was like a mischievous, fun loving child. It was impossible not to love one so full of life and fun.

"Jack." I answered, the once familiar name feeling so foreign now. "Jack Thompson. Just a young boy from Kansas. A boy I loved, for a short time. And I lied to him from beginning to end. I lied about who I was. Where I came from. What I was like. To him, I was Jenny Freeman from Colorado." I sighed and shook my head.

"It's the lies I told him that hurt the worst after he was gone."

"What happened?"

"He volunteered for the army as soon as America joined World War II." I answered. "For two years we would meet when possible, and write letters to each other in the meantime. One of the last times we met, when he was still in America, he told me, against his orders, that he was going to be part of the landing in Normandy. That was in 1943. Just before Christmas."

I swallowed, frowning as I felt my hands curl into fists.

"I had a terrible feeling when he told me that. Call it a premonition, or whatever you like, but I felt that if he went to France, I'd never see him again. So I did the next best thing, and I followed him."

"You followed him to France?" Willow asked. I nodded.

"It wasn't easy. I had to follow him to England, first, and that was complicated in and of itself. I had to forge documents claiming I was with the Red Cross, and that I was to be part of the landing."

"You were part of D-Day?" Willow exclaimed. I winced at the sudden interruption and she blushed.

"Sorry." She murmured. "Go ahead."

"It didn't work." I finished, deciding to cut my story short. Willow was late enough already, and I didn't want to relive that moment all over again.

"What?" Willow exclaimed, eyes wide.

"I was too late." I shrugged, trying to act as though it was all over and I felt nothing anymore. But I was hurting. Again. And I hated that pain.

"He was part of the first wave, and was cut down before he even made it to the sands." I finished quietly, in a rush.

"I helped ship his body back to his family. And that was the last I saw of him. And the last time I ever made an attempt at love."

I sighed and looked down at her and smiled. Or, at least tried to.

"Count yourself lucky, sweetling." I told her. "At least you can love and be loved. Our kind aren't meant for it."

And with that, I left her, to go hide away in the library this time. I was in no mood to put up with the stench of cigarette smoke in there, anyway. And I needed the solace of books.

(Hey guys, sorry for the lack of updates, and I know this is super short but believe me, work has been SUPER busy with Halloween coming up, so I've been lacking for time to really write as much as I want too. Hopefully next week will be different. Thanks again for reading, again, apologies for late/short chapters!)