Thank you all for reading!

The familiar chimes sounded through the house as Oz waited for Mrs. Rosenberg to come to the door. He was bemused by the fact that he was actually nervous. While he had met Willow's mother before, he was fairly sure she hadn't really seen him then; he wondered what she would think of him now.

Another guy in Oz's position might be tempted to enjoy the ironies of the occasion, but Oz knew that despite her parents' neglect of her, Willow still hoped that someday they would see her for who she was, and appreciate her, and he didn't want to do anything that might cause her pain or anxiety.

When her mother opened the door, he smiled. "Good evening, Mrs. Rosenberg."

"Oh, yes, Danny, isn't it?"

Oz winced; only a few less-than-dear relatives had ever referred to him as Danny, but it didn't seem worth correcting her. After all, she still called Buffy Bunny—he was probably lucky to have escaped with something as innocuous as Danny. "That's right." He offered her the bottle of wine his mother had picked up for him.

"Thank you." She didn't even really look at it, putting it immediately down on a table near the door. Next to Willow's pile of college applications, he saw. Where would she go, he wondered. The whole world was open to his Willow, waiting for her to go there and become whoever she could be, and he wanted that for her, but thinking about losing her to the world made his heart ache. That he could follow her was a thought he'd had once or twice, but he also knew it did neither of them any favors to make decisions based on their need to be together rather than their own needs as people. It was a discussion he could feel coming sometime soon, but hopefully it wouldn't come up tonight.

He followed her mother into the living room, where Willow sat nervously waiting for him. She jumped up from the chair when he came in, then thought better of it and sat down again.

"Your friend Danny is here, Willow. Why don't you get him something to drink?"

"Oh. Sure. Yes. Soda okay?"

"Fine." He smiled reassuringly at her.

He took a seat, accepted the soda Willow had brought him, and they sat for a few minutes in silence while her mother looked over some papers. At last, she got up and looked at him again, abstractedly. "Come to the table, both of you, and I'll get the lasagna." Apparently Willow's father was out of town again; Oz had never met him.

Oz sat across from Willow, trying to catch her eye and get her to smile, but she was clearly too on edge to be calmed.

"So, Danny, Willow tells me you play an instrument?" her mother asked as she heaped lasagna on his plate.

"Yes, guitar. Or try to," he added.

"You don't feel you've mastered the instrument?" Her interest was clearly more clinical than personal, and he didn't mind answering the question on that footing.

"It's hard to truly master an instrument. They still have more to teach as you get better. I have a lot left to learn, let's put it that way."

"I see. And you play in some kind of a musical group?"

"A band, yes. We do gigs around the area, whenever we can get someone to pay us."

"This is a viable future career?"

Oz smiled. "I don't know about that. There are other things I could do, but—"

"Oz is a genius, Mom," Willow put in, defensive on his behalf. He smiled at her to let her know she didn't have to defend him, but he appreciated the thought.

"Hm." Her mother frowned. "So many geniuses tend to be a bit … scattered, don't you think? Lacking in focus? Take Willow, for example …"

"Mom," Willow protested.

"Sorry. I just meant—you can't seem to narrow down your college choices or your eventual major, and I just worry that you're wasting your potential."

"I'll give it some more thought."

"You do that. And you, Danny, have you decided on a college?"

"Not yet. I've applied to a few." He hoped Willow wouldn't mention the repeating of senior year; that would hardly endear him to her mother, even assuming she remembered the detail later.

"Hm." Mrs. Rosenberg opened a journal that sat next to her place and read until the end of the meal, while Willow and Oz ate silently, looking at one another across the table.

At last, when their plates were empty, Mrs. Rosenberg looked up. "Oh, are you finished? Willow, can you clear the table? Danny, it was nice to meet you. I hope you'll come again." She stood up in a clear dismissal, and he stood, too.

"Thank you for having me," he said politely. Behind her, Willow made the "call me" gesture with her hand, and he nodded at her.

Outside, he leaned against the door, glad that was over, and sad for Willow. His parents weren't exactly normal, but they loved him; he'd never had to doubt that. Seeing the way her mother was, his heart went out to his Willow even more—he couldn't wait to get her on the phone and tell her how proud he was of her.