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When the phone rang, something told him it was her. Just the way he had been sure it was her the last time, and the time before.

His mom had grown tired of answering it, tired of telling Willow he wasn't there when in fact he was, and had told him it was his problem, he could deal with it. There had been a question in her eyes when she said it, but Oz hadn't answered. Just as he hadn't answered the phone.

He didn't this time, either, and the ringing stopped, leaving a pathetic little silence where it had been.

Oz stared at it, willing it to ring again, not wanting it to. With everything that was in him, he wanted to talk to Willow, to hear her sweet voice, to have her tell him that what he remembered had never happened, to listen to her worry about grades and homework and Buffy. But it had happened, and no amount of wanting was going to change that—nothing Willow could say was going to change that.

The ringing began again, and he wished it would stop. He couldn't talk to her. She had broken his heart, betrayed him with the one person he knew she could never let go, so that even if he could forgive her, it would never go away. Xander was a part of Willow's life—had always been a bigger part than anyone else and always would be. Oz couldn't imagine living with that, knowing what they had done, wondering what else there was that he didn't know …

The ringing stopped abruptly, mid-sound, and his father's heavy footsteps followed the silence. "Pick up the phone and talk to her," he said, the tone brooking no disagreement. "Get it over with, whatever it is. For all our sakes."

Oz swallowed. He was right; she wouldn't go away until he talked to her. When the door closed behind his father, he picked up the phone and put it against his ear. Just as he had for so many other conversations, he thought, closing his eyes against the wave of pain. "Hey."

"Oz! I've been trying to reach you all day, to tell you how sorry I am that— I mean, I never meant to—When I think that I hurt you it makes me feel all …" She was crying now, unable to form words, and he squeezed his eyes shut more tightly, trying not to cry himself.

"Willow." Forcing the word out, that word in particular, was harder than he could have imagined it would be. "Stop."

She got herself under control with difficulty. "It—it was just— I was there and he was there, and we were going to die, and …"

"And before?"

There was silence on the line, and he knew he wasn't wrong, and he knew if she lied to him he would know it, but a small part of him wanted her to anyway.

Willow's voice came, small and shamed and honest, and Oz still wasn't sure if he would have preferred her to lie to him. "We … kissed … a few times before. It was … wrong. We both knew it, but …"

"You did it anyway."

"Oz, I didn't think— I've never been that girl, and I …"

He knew. He knew his Willow—Xander's Willow—so well, he should have seen the blossoming in her, the awakening of herself as a woman, with confidence and a new understanding of herself. Had he let this happen, going along and just being happy with how things were? Should he have pushed her boundaries more, been the one to awaken her sexuality? Now that was Xander's. Oz put a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the images in his head. "Are you and …" He couldn't bring himself to use Xander's name.

"No! God, no. That's over for good. Oz, I promise. When I saw you there, I knew … What I did was … I am so sorry."

She was crying again, and Oz could feel his heart constrict. It was hard to breathe listening to her in pain, but he couldn't get past it like this. "Willow."

"Oz?"

"I need time. Space. Do you understand?"

"I … think so. Can I see you?"

She didn't understand. She thought saying she was sorry was enough, and he loved her innocent heart even in the face of his own hurt. "No. You need—I need you to leave me alone."

"Oh." There was a silence, and then, "For how long?"

"I don't know."

"Oh. Okay," she said doubtfully. "Oz?"

He waited, knowing he should just hang up.

"I … I'm sorry."

"I know." Now he did put the phone back, leaving it off the hook so he wouldn't have to know if she had listened to him or not.