This story was nominated for a Golden Frog Award in the categoty of Best 1 Part Fic.


RATING:G
CONTENT: a lot of angst. a little Will/Oz romance stuff.
SPOILERS: Mainly Becoming. But everything up to there is fair game
SUMMARY: Willow's POV post-Becoming. Basically just thinking about the things that have happened, the changes in her life.
DISCLAIMER:I don't own the wonderful characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer...I just cower at the feet of those that do...Joss Whedon, the Wb and Fox.


Bittersweet Surprise

by: Rebecca Carefoot

I walk slowly into the library, pausing to place my backpack on the table that sits in the middle of the room. Before I sit down in one of the chairs as I have done so many times before, I take a moment to look at the room where I have spent so much time the last few years. You wouldn't think to look at it that this room has been torn apart by the opening of the mouth of Hell, infiltrated by vampires; that this floor was covered with the blood of a dead Slayer, or that the doors had been crashed through by Cordelia's car as we ran from certain death behind us. It looks like an ordinary library. The shelves are filled with rows and rows of books, the light filters in through the windows, the card catalogue waits patiently to be searched through. And the computer sits on the desk, waiting for me to turn it on, to connect to the internet and start surfing.

But that computer's used to a kind of surfing that's definitely not of the norm. It's been used almost exclusively to research demons and dark prophecies. If you look at the card catalogue more closely, you'll see that the sections on books about witches, vampires and praying mantises are more worn and used than the ones on model cars or sports stars. Walk through the stacks and count the number of titles that are related to the occult. It'll shock you. It shocked me. Not the books so much I mean. But the fact that all of that stuff is real, the fact that all of it lives here.

I'm Willow Rosenburg, and I live on the Hellmouth. Shocking? Oh yeah. But that's just the way things are.

I decide I don't feel like sitting and wander up the short stairs to the stacks. Row after row of books. I let my fingers trail over their bindings, feeling the hard texture of the leather, or the smoothness of the plastic that protects those covers. I know this room by heart. It's been my home away from home for two years. I spent a lot of time in here before that too, but I've almost lived here for two years. Every spare moment, every free period, almost every afternoon and so many of the nights I spent in here. Fighting demons. I've been part of the team for two years, and that's what we do. Fight demons.

The library's been my safe place. It's our home base, like in tag when you have to get to the home base to be safe from the other kids playing the game. I was never very good at tag, but I'm pretty good at demon hunting. Go figure. Anyway, this was my home base. Even after it was torn apart by the monster that rose out of the Hellmouth and tried to eat us, even after we were kidnapped by the Anointed One and taken to be killed as part of a ritual, even after I was crushed by the bookcase and Kendra died in this room; it was still the safe place. I thought it was because this is where we fight them from. This is where we gather the information that lets us fight the demons. It's like even if they come in here and attack us, I know we'll still win. Because we can come to the library and do the research, and we can win the fight. We always win.

It's not the safe place anymore.

It's just a room. I think I've figured it out though. I thought that the library was my haven. But I was wrong. The library wasn't what made me feel safe. It was Buffy. The Slayer. Because I knew that she was strong enough to face anything. I knew that she would always win. She made me feel safe. It was being part of her world that opened my eyes to the danger, but I always knew no matter how bad it got, she would keep us safe.

But now she's gone. And I don't feel safe anymore. Not here in the library surrounded by books, not at home in my room with my empty fish tank, not in class, and especially not walking home at night from the Bronze.

Before, when she was still here, everything was ok. We faced a lot of bad things, a lot of scary things. But I knew things would turn out right in the end.

This isn't right.

This isn't how things are supposed to be.

She wasn't supposed to lose. Giles says that she must not have lost. She must not have died because we weren't sucked into Hell. We went to the mansion to look around. There was no body, and the statue lay dormant.

A part of me still says that she might have been killed even though she beat him...Angel. Angelus.

I don't know. Maybe I say that because in a way it hurts less to think that she died than to think that she just left. I mean, I don't REALLY think that she's dead. And I certainly don't WANT her dead. But I just can't understand it. Why she left us. If she wasn't dead. Maybe it was killing Angel. Maybe she needed some time alone. I can understand that.

But why didn't she say good-bye? She could have at least said good-bye. I stop my journey through the stacks, and shake my head angrily. I can feel the tears pricking in my eyes, the tightness of my throat. But I don't want to cry. I don't want to think about it this way, as if it were...betrayal.

She could have at least said good-bye.

She was my best friend, you know. It used to be Xander. He and I have known each other for so long, shared so many memories. I can't even really think of a time without him. He's was my best friend for years, and I loved him too. In a more than friendly way.

Things changed though. This year a lot of things changed. He's different to me somehow. I don't know. I mean, I still love him; and I know he loves me. We'll probably always be close. But now there's this wall between us that was never there before.

Part of it's Cordelia. Not her, herself exactly. But the two of them being together. He's always off spending time with her, making out with her. No time for me anymore. I'm making myself sound all pathetic. I hate that. Anyway, I don't think it's just the fact that he spends a lot of time with her. There's more to it than that.

See, I always thought that he didn't know I had a crush on him. Well, he didn't for the longest time. He can be well, yeah, he can be oblivious. But this year there've been little hints. Like say, the time I overheard Buffy and Xander talking about my lips and how he doesn't think of them. It was almost as if he knew then. Or the time we came THAT close to kissing over a half-melted ice cream cone. And now he knows for sure. I blew up at him when I found out about Cordy. Lost it completely. But can you really blame me...I mean Cordelia Chase?! I have to admit she has been almost human this year though. That may be a bigger shock than anything.

But back to me and Xander. Whether he knew before or not, he knew then. I practically out right told him. *You'd rather be with someone you hate than be with me.* Or something like that. Something that hurt to say, and hurt to hear. You have no idea how much it hurt to see them kissing each other. So I said it. I said that, and he still chose her. That's the wall. I used to fantasize that when he found out he'd suddenly have this realization that he loved me too in a more than friendly way. But when it really happened...he didn't have the big eye-opening epiphany. He stayed with her.

And now we both walk on eggshells a lot of the time. I know he feels bad about it. He doesn't want to hurt my feelings. I know he does care about me. And I think he feels bad that he couldn't be what I wanted him to be. At first I couldn't even stand to see him, to see them together. But I'm sort of ok with it now. I wish I could just tell him to stop being so careful, tell him I'm ok...maybe it would tear down the wall. He'd see that I'm ok, and he's ok, and our friendship survived, and we could both move on. At least I hope that's what would happen. But how do you bring something like that up?

I've made my way back to the table and my backpack. I wonder vaguely where everybody is. Where Giles is. He's here even more than I am if that's possible. Being both the librarian and Buffy's Watcher sort of makes this his home, and his apartment his home away from home. Maybe there was a staff meeting or something. And Cordy and Xander are off in some broom closet somewhere. And Buffy's..well Buffy's who knows where.

So with Xander and me growing apart, Buffy was my best friend. It felt so good to have a real girl-friend. I haven't had one in a while. But Buffy was great. There are some things you can talk about with girls that you can't talk about with boys. Like boys. You can't talk about them with other boys. Maybe with gay boys...but that's beside the point. I could talk about anything with Buffy. She listened to me drool over Xander, listened to my fantasies, and my hopes.

And I listened to her when she talked about Angel. I listened when they first met, and she was always talking about the mystery guy. She called him annoying, but her eyes would light up at the mention of his name. Half the time her eyes were always searching for him, hoping he'd show up. I listened when her heart was torn by the fact that he was a vampire. And even though he was a good vampire with a soul, she knew she shouldn't get involved. I listened when she agonized over whether to ask him for coffee as she decided she wanted a relationship with him, vampire or not. And I listened to her gush about how wonderful he was when they were together.

They were so in love. It sounds like all I ever did was listen. But I loved listening to her talk about him. It was so romantic. So...everything that I didn't have.

But then they slept together and he lost his soul, and I had to listen to her heart break over and over. I had to watch her try to hide the fact that she had been crying again. I had to watch her eyes grow tired and old as the demon that used to be her boyfriend killed Miss Calendar. No. I'm not going to think about that right now.

I wanted so much to give her something that would make it all better. I wanted to be the one to fix it all and make her feel safe. The way she made us all safe. When we found the spell I thought I had my chance.

It didn't work though. He didn't get his soul back. Or if he did it didn't matter because she fought him, and she won. I guess she lost too. By winning the fight, she lost him forever. If she hadn't killed him, if he was his old self again, she wouldn't have left us. Maybe it's my fault then. Because the spell didn't work. If it had maybe she would still be here.

It still hurts me to think about the fact that she left us. I was her best friend, but she didn't tell me where she was going.

And she didn't even say good-bye.

I try to understand because I know that being the Slayer is the hardest job in the world. I know I couldn't do it. I always thought that Buffy was strong enough to handle anything. But even she is human. And I guess she couldn't handle anything. I try to remember that and understand.

But it's not ok. She should have at least said good-bye.

And instead she left us without a word. Like we didn't matter. Like she didn't care about us. Like we weren't part of the team.

I can feel the tears spring up in my eyes again, and this time I let them spill out, let them roll down my cheeks. It's not the first time I've cried over her, and it won't be the last. But they're not just sad tears...there's anger there too. Anger because she left us here alone, without anyone to keep us safe. We still try to do her job and fight the vampires that are left. But it's not the same without her. There's a void, a hole, and I don't feel like everything will turn out ok. I feel like I'm going to get killed, and she'll never even know because she left me here.

The library doors swing open and I wipe quickly at my tears, trying to hide the fact that I was crying from whoever it is. I look over to see who's joined me. Oz. A smile crosses my lips despite everything. He walks to me and pulls me into a hug.

"What's wrong?" he asks. And I should have known that I couldn't hide my tears from him. He always sees when I'm upset. He's told me about the first time he saw me, about how I was dressed in my huge, bulky Eskimo costume. It's kind of funny I think, that he noticed me in that costume when the only part of me peeking out was my face. Most people don't even notice me normally, but he noticed me when I was dressed like that, even more hidden than usual.

"I was thinking about Buffy," I finally answer him, when I realize that he's waiting for me to speak. I wrap my arms around him, and the tears start falling again. I hate crying in front of him. It makes me feel weak or stupid or something. But he never acts like I'm weak for crying. He just holds me. He understands. His hand comes up to stroke my hair.

"I'm sure she's ok," he assures me.

"I know," I mutter. "But it's not even that. I just can't stop thinking about her...about the way she just left us." I draw in a deep shaky breath, and he lets me go. I think about what I've said and wonder why I said it. I try to explain. "It's not that I'm not worried about her. I am. Anything could happen to her...and she must feel so alone." Oz nods, taking my hand in his reassuringly. "But doesn't she understand that she doesn't have to be alone? We would be here for her, if she let us."

"And I'm just so MAD," I continue. "I try not to be. But I can't help it. I'm so mad at her for leaving us like she did. Doesn't she know that we need her here? That I need her here. Didn't she care at all about what it would do to us if she left?"

"I'm sure it hurt her to leave...but we don't know what really happened that day. I'm sure that she didn't want to hurt you." What Oz says makes sense, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't help.

"I know," I admit. And I'm ashamed of myself for being angry with her. Whatever made her leave must have been so horrible. In my mind I know that...but I can't stop feeling this. No matter how bad it was...she shouldn't have left us that way. I clench my teeth, spitting the words out with effort. "She was my best friend, Oz. IS my best friend. And it hurts so much that she didn't think she could come to me when she was in pain. I would have gone to her...but she didn't come to me. She just left without a single word."

"She'll be back," he says, with such confidence that I stare at him in disbelief.

"How do you know?" I ask. "What if she never comes back? What if we meant so little to her that she could just leave us, and never look back?"

"You know that's not true," he replies, and I realize that he's the voice of reason. I know he's right. But if he's right, why is it that a little part of me still can't believe?

"I just..." I start, and my voice trails off helplessly. "I just miss her so much."

"Tell me," he says. He says it like it's easy, like it's just a simple thing to tell. And maybe it is. Maybe I make things harder than they have to be. I close my eyes for a second, and then I try to do as he asks. To just tell him, tell someone.

"I miss her so much it hurts," I start, and once I start the words come in a flood. "I miss the big things she would do. Like slaying the vamps, or saving our lives over and over. But most of all I miss the little things. I miss hearing her fists slap against the pads when she was knocking Giles around during training. I miss the way she would flip her hair out of her eyes with a shake of her head. The way she'd roll her eyes when Xander said something stupid. The way we'd exchange glances when we had a secret." My voice breaks, but I can't stop. "I miss her laugh. But I started to miss that before she even left. She didn't have a lot to laugh about these last few months. I miss the way her eyes would light up when she had a plan. I miss seeing her dancing at the Bronze. I miss talking to her on the phone for hours at a time. I miss her smile." I stop suddenly, though my list goes on and on. There's no need to say it out loud, and from the size of the lump in my throat I'm not even sure if I can say it.

"It's ok to miss her, Willow," Oz tells me softly, lifting my downcast eyes to meet his gaze. "You're allowed to miss her. And you're allowed to be sad. And you're allowed to be mad if that's what you feel." Suddenly I'm so thankful that he's here with me. And I realize that I'm not really all alone. I've lost my best friend. But I do still have people that care for me. People like Oz.

"Thank you ," I say, wishing that there were some words that could convey more than those do. Why is it that when it really counts, thank you is never enough? He looks at me, puzzled. Like he can't figure out what I'm thanking him for. "For just being you," I explain, or try to. "For being here for me."

"I'll always be here for you," he promises. It's kind of strange. People say stuff like that all the time and they rarely ever mean it. But when he says it, I get the feeling that it's true. That he really will stick around; that he'll never let me go. And I'm glad, because I don't want him to let go.

His arms enfold me again, and I relax against them. Letting myself feel everything instead of trying to hide it all away. The anger, the guilt, the fear, the sorrow, all of it washes over me. And as it does I feel cleansed. I feel like maybe I can stand it. That's when I start to notice how good it feels to be in his arms. And I wonder when this happened. I wonder at what point I stopped thinking about Oz as a pretty nice guy who would do since Xander wasn't available. When did I start really seeing him for himself? And caring about him. And loving...did I think loving? Did I mean loving? I guess I did.

Isn't that weird? I'm actually in love with someone, and it isn't Xander; and he loves me back. Somehow I find that more shocking than the fact that we're living on the Hellmouth. And at the same time I know I shouldn't be shocked by it. No one should be shocked to realize they are loved. I sigh a little, telling myself to stop overanalyzing and just enjoy. Oz. This time it's a happy sigh.

He holds me closer, and I lower my head to rest on his shoulder, hoping that he never lets me go.

Wherever Buffy is I hope she has someone. I hope she's not all alone. And I hope she knows that she can always come home to us. I hope she knows how much we care, how much we need her. And most of all I hope she knows that we're ok. We'll be ok...all of us. And that includes me.

Shocking.

the end

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