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Willow dropped onto her bed, lying back with a sigh. "To think how many times yesterday I thought I was never going to get a good night's sleep—or any night's sleep—again."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be with you." Oz sat next to her on the bed, stroking her hair. Willow curled into the caress with a contented sigh, like a cat.

She had told him about the opening of the Hellmouth and the way they had all had to fight to get it closed again. There had been fear in her voice as she spoke, and awe at what she had seen, but there had been pride, too. She had fought next to the two Slayers and the vampire and the Watcher, and she had held her own. Willow Rosenberg, who was used to thinking of herself as weak and helpless and pathetic, the way most of the world saw her, had fought a demon. She had seen its true face, and she had lived to tell about it. She had been instrumental in sending it back where it had come from.

Most days now, Oz was all right with his identity as a werewolf, but every once in a while a moment like this occurred, when he missed something important because of the wolf. How he wished he had been there, fighting at her side. Instead, he had been tranked out in the boiler room while Willow fought for her life.

"You were there. At least, I knew you were in the same building," she said sleepily. "I wouldn't have let anything happen to you."

He smiled. "I know you wouldn't have."

Willow sat up abruptly, looking at him earnestly. "Ooh, but—I'm sorry I shot you. With the tranquilizer dart."

"I forgive you." Oz reached for her, pulling her into his arms, and kissed her. Willow kissed him back, the familiarity of her mouth against his warming him all the way through. But when he would have deepened the kiss, she pulled away, yawning widely.

"I'm sorry. I'm not much fun tonight. Saving the world's a lot more tiring than people think." She yawned again. "Especially with no super powers."

Oz tugged the covers back, tucking her in, then he resumed his spot on the side of the bed, stroking her hair. "You don't have to be fun all the time. I like you when you're exhausted, and focused, and shy, and cranky. I pretty much like the whole Willow package."

She opened one eye and looked up at him skeptically. "Cranky?"

He shrugged.

Willow smiled and snuggled back into the pillow, closing her eye again. "I'll make it up to you."

"No need," he whispered, but she was already asleep. Oz sat there for a long time, stroking her hair, watching her sleep, thinking how lucky he was.