Spoilers for Pangs (minor) and I Will Remember You (major). Two hours after I finished sobbing following IWRY, Willow insisted on telling me this story.

The song is Terms (The Path of Thorns) by Sarah McLachlin.

*** I know you wanted to tell me
*** In your voice there was something wrong
*** But if you would turn your face away from me
*** You cannot tell me you're so strong...

Once upon a time, Buffy loved Angel, Angel loved Buffy, Oz loved Willow, Willow loved Oz, and Xander and Cordelia loved... themselves. Sorta. Maybe.

Willow sat cross-legged on her bed in her dorm room, pretending to practice putting herself into a trance, and moping instead. Now, none of that was true. Oh, Angel still loved Buffy. She'd seen his face when he'd seen her, knew that he still loved her. And Buffy... Willow squintched her eyes shut remembering Buffy's outburst at Thanksgiving dinner when Xander had so carelessly mentioned that Angel had been in town.

Willow sighed and unfolded herself from her seat on the bed, hopping down to get some orange juice out of the fridge. Giles had managed to convince her to not stake Spike, at least not in his living room, since the dust was a bother to clean up. And then they all managed to incriminate themselves in Angel's conspiracy of silence.

Willow crossed to the window in the dorm room and opened it wide. Brilliant sunlight spilled over her. Earlier in the week, the weather had carried a snap of winter, but Thanksgiving weekend had warmed and brightened until Willow felt she could pool sunlight in the palm of her hand. Doing so sent a shot of energy through her.

Well, why not? she asked herself. She'd missed the full moon on Tuesday helping Buffy get ready for Thanksgiving dinner, and since Spike was running around loose in Sunnydale, a protection spell was in order. Spells could be worked in sunlight as well as at night, better sometimes.

And she was alone in the room for the weekend. Buffy decided to take some time to go down to LA to see her dad. Willow snorted in memory. Yeah, right. And the fact that Angel was down there had nothing to do with it.

They only knew where Angel was because Oz had found him...

The little spurt of pain was almost familiar now. It didn't stop Willow from pulling her ritual items out and arranging them on the floor of the dorm room. When Oz had first left, the pain could freeze her where she stood, unaware of anything other than her own loss.

Somehow, it seemed worse when pain became an everyday thing. Why hadn't she realized that about Buffy? Willow wondered as she absently set up her altar. Every time Buffy had asked for advice about Angel, Willow had been Go For It Girl. And in the months after graduation, Willow had watched Buffy freeze in her steps often enough, head turned as though she had heard a voice, before firmly shaking herself and moving on.

All the things Willow had done when Oz left.

She hadn't understood. With a romantic heart and a beloved boyfriend, Willow had refused to see or believe in the problems that Buffy and Angel faced. Now she did, when it was too late. She couldn't figure out how to help Buffy get over Angel when she couldn't even begin to figure out how to get over Oz.

Willow sniffled, wiping a tear from her cheek just as another fell on her preparation of rosemary and St. John's Wort. And it occurred to her, not for the first time, that she might cast a seeking spell, to find out where Oz was. Not to bring him home, Willow told herself firmly. Just... to know where he was.

"First things first," she murmured, and cast a Circle. Most of the dorm was empty, she had enough privacy to do what she needed. When her skin heated from a combination of sunlight and power, she recited the words of the protection spell and set fire to the herbs she had collected. The dampness from her tear hissed and steam and smoke rose up intertwined. Its sweetness steadied her, focused her, and she sat for several long moments just breathing it in.

Sighing, she decided against trying to figure out where Oz was. She thanked the quarters and closed her Circle, brooding about men. Who did they think they were, anyway? Telling a girl they were leaving for her own good, that they needed to find themselves... it was infuriating.

The phone rang, jarring her as she finished putting her magical paraphernalia away. ~Between my witchy stuff and Buffy's weapons, if anyone searches this room...~ "Hello? Hi, Mom. Yes, I know. Tomorrow night at six. Yes, I'll be there. I will. Bye." Willow hung up the phone and sighed. Her mother strongly believed that Thanksgiving was an insulting holiday. So instead she had a big dinner party the Saturday following Thanksgiving. Which didn't really make sense to Willow, since she couldn't see the difference, but since she'd already gone over to the dark side and had turkey and stuffing on the third Thursday in November, she didn't have much call to complain.

But that meant that between now and tomorrow night, she didn't have to be anywhere and do anything. "I can just sit here and mope." Rooting in the refrigerator for Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey, Willow crawled back into bed, picked up a romance novel, and pulled the covers over her head.

*** Just let me ask of you one small thing
*** As we have shared so many tears
*** With fervor our dreams we planned a whole life long
*** Now are shattered on the wind...

The telephone woke Willow from her nap, and she groaned her way out of bed. She tripped over the empty tub of ice cream and the half-finished book on the way to the phone. "Mmmmmmgaaaaawaaaa?"

"Willow?" The edge in Buffy's voice had Willow awake and alert in a moment.

"What's wrong?" she asked. The sun had shifted, was no longer spilling full through the east-facing window. Patterns of golden light and smoky shadow crossed the room, weaving and unweaving.

"Nothing... sorta. Kinda. Oh, God, Will..."

There was a kind of helplessness in Buffy's voice that had more to do with joy than fear. "What happened?" Willow was clutching the phone tightly, holding on. "Where are you?"

"Angel's bathroom. Will..."

"Angel's *bathroom*?"

Buffy made a frustrated noise. "I had to have some privacy. I need to think. I need to... oh, God, Will..."

"Stop saying that and tell me what's happening!"

"He's mortal, Will." It was a bare whisper, and nearly was buried in the deep breath Buffy took right after it. "Oh, God, I can't believe it, even saying it out loud, I can't..."

"Who's mortal? Angel? Buffy, that's impossible, he's a--"

"He's not." There was a passionate ring of certainty in Buffy's voice. "Not any more."

Willow sat down on the edge of the bed, missed, and slid to the floor. "How... what... what happened?"

Buffy gulped. "Demon. Mora demon. Something about their blood regenerates... it killed the demon inside Angel. He's alive. He's mortal." Her voice caught. "He kissed me in the sunlight."

Willow realized her eyes were closed, and opened them. The sunlight refracted in the tears in her eyes, spilling over in joy and just the tiniest bit of jealousy. "What are you going to do?"

Buffy groaned. "I don't know. I mean... I kept dreaming about this. Over and over. Did you ever play that game, if you had three wishes, what would you wish for? That my parents hadn't divorced, that I wasn't the Slayer, and that Angel was mortal. One out of three isn't bad. Not for miracles. But I don't know what to do now. Willow...."

~I wish Jenny was alive. I wish Oz had never left. And I'm too scared to wish for a third thing, because what if miracles happen? What do you do then?~ "You love him, Buffy."

"I didn't want to," was the somewhat watery response. "Not anymore."

"Did you ever get a choice?" Willow asked.

"Not really," Buffy admitted.

"Then you've got to follow your heart."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Buffy sighed. "Thanks, Will."

Willow shrugged automatically, knowing Buffy couldn't see her. "I didn't help much."

"You did. I had to tell someone. I just had to. Bye."

Willow sat staring at the phone in her hand long after it made protesting noises at being left off the hook. Angel. Mortal. Buffy's dreams coming true. Three years of pain and hope and horror. Was that all it took for a happily ever after?

Willow took a deep breath, pressed the switch hook on the phone, and called Giles. Miracles and happily ever afters were all well and good, but she'd rather back them up with good, solid research.

*** In the terms of endearment
*** In the terms of the life that you love
*** In the terms of the years that pass you by
*** In the terms of the reasons why

"Here it is. Mora demon." Giles made a small noise of disgust. "Assassins."

Willow put down her book and waited while Giles wandered back into his reading. "So, what do they do, what are they?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Their blood has regenerative powers. Which, incidentally, grow stronger the more the powers are invoked. Kill them, they come back again."

"Come back stronger," Willow said, reaching for a cookie. A plate of them sat on the coffee table, within easy reach of them both. It was just the two of them. Xander was still weak from having fifteen infectious diseases tap-dance through his body, and neither Giles nor Willow really trusted Anya. Weird, Willow thought, glancing around the apartment. There had been times back in the library when she couldn't hear herself think over everyone arguing.

Now, it was just her and Giles.

"Yes, I dare say." Giles put down the book he was researching from. "If their blood could rid Angel of the demon in his body... Interesting." With a little hum of curiosity, Giles returned to the book.

Willow tried to bury herself back in her own reading. But her brain kept turning around and around. If a Mora demon's blood could cure Angel, what would it do to other vampires? Could they use it as a weapon? Or as a cure. Could they finally change Amy back into a human?

Could they use it on Oz?

Suddenly Willow sat up. "Assassin!" she cried out.

"What? Where?" Giles demanded, halfway to the nearest sword as he spoke.

Willow shook her head. "No, no, I mean, you said, assassins."

"Oh, yes. The Mora demons are a race of killers. Hit demons, if you like."

"Were they sent after Buffy?" Willow asked anxiously.

"I would doubt it. Buffy is primarily a vampire Slayer. Grant you, she is a vampire Slayer who will kill other demons, but most demons don't know that. No, I would assume that the Mora demon was sent after Angel. Presumably, he is annoying the demon underworld in Los Angeles."

"Oh," Willow said. "I never thought about Angel... you know, being in danger."

"Well, I would say he is now, especially if what Buffy says is correct and he's mortal." Grimly, Giles closed his book and set it aside. "He's not going to have the faintest idea how to defend himself."

Willow stared at him, wide-eyed with surprise. "I guess miracles aren't all they're cracked up to be, are they?"

*** Through the years I've grown to love you
*** Though your commitment to most would offend
*** But I stuck by you holding on with my foolish pride
*** Waiting for you to give in.

The throbbing peal of her alarm clock woke Willow from her restless sleep. A long nap, too many cookies and too much to think about made for a very unrestful night. She'd just dropped off about four in the morning.

After a few moments of hitting her clock with her eyes shut, Willow realized that it was the phone waking her out of a sound sleep for the second time in twenty-four hours. A little more alert than last time, she picked it up. "Buffy?" she asked resignedly.

"Will. Good guess." Buffy sounded shaky and distracted. And what was she doing calling home when she'd just been handed everything she ever wanted?

Willow turned on her lamp and leaned back against the pillows in her bed. "What's wrong?"

"Will... I'm so scared."

"Oh, Buffy." Willow's sympathetic heart broke just at the tone in Buffy's voice. She didn't know what was wrong. She didn't need to know. Buffy was hurting. "What happened?"

"It came back." Buffy's voice caught slightly. "The Mora demon. Angel hadn't killed it. It killed some people... Angel went off to fight it."

"Angel?" Willow asked. "But he's..."

"Yeah, he's," Buffy said, furious. "And he walked out on me again. To save me. To protect me. I had to find out from *Cordelia* where he was."

"Ouch," Willow said, wincing for her.

"The demon almost killed him, Will." There was barely a breath of sound from the telephone receiver. "I almost lost him right there. If he'd just let me fight the demon..."

"Is he okay?" Willow asked.

"He's alive. And the thought of that scares me now. I wanted him to be alive... but now..."

"He's gonna be okay, Buffy, you know that."

"How do I know that?" Buffy demanded. "How can I know that? He's gone again. I don't know where. Will, he can *die*. I don't think I could stand it if he died because of me. Not after last night. I got everything I ever wanted last night. I can't lose it."

Willow soothed Buffy as much as she could, but there wasn't much comfort to offer. The research that she and Giles had done had little consolation, no hope that Angel would somehow keep his vampire strength or that the Mora demon's regenerating blood would protect him from injury.

All she could do for Buffy was hold on, the way Buffy had held on to her when Oz left.

And it wasn't enough.

*** You never really tried, or so it seems like
*** I've had more than myself to blame

With steady hands, Willow lifted a small sphere of rose quartz above her head and chanted, "Hearts are long and life is short, through this globe let me see, as I will, so mote it be."

She'd spent a couple hours after Buffy woke her pacing, and worrying, and pacing some more. Love wasn't perfect. Life wasn't perfect. She could handle that.

But she wasn't going to sit and do nothing. For the second morning in a row, she cast a Circle and settled within its protective reach. If she willed it enough, she could do anything she wanted.

At least she could try.

She lowered the crystal ball to the floor in front of her and stared into it, draining her mind of every outside impulse she could and focusing on the opaque quartz. Slowly, before her eyes, it lightened to transparency, shadowed by a rosy glow. She concentrated as forms began to shift inside of it, almost imperceptibly at first. Was that a hand... or a ear? Or maybe a elephant?

Was it Oz?

His head turned as though he'd heard his name, and Willow caught her breath. She couldn't see anything around him, couldn't see where he was. But she saw him. That was enough.

The hell it was.

Reaching out with shaking hands, she scooped up the globe and brought it closer to her face. "Where are you?" she shouted it at. "Where did you go? Why did you leave me? Oz!"

Without warning, she felt a distinct snap, as though someone had broken a rubber band in her head. The globe fell from her hands and bounced along the floor as Willow reached up, covering her eyes. Everything was twisting around her, like when she was five and she and Xander had gone on the merry-go-round. He'd laughed at her when she couldn't walk without falling down after getting off, but he'd held onto her, too.

There was a grinding groan, all around her, inside her, that rose until it almost shattered the world around her. Willow moved her hands to clap them over her ears, but the sound was impossible to escape. "Magic," her mouth said, but she couldn't even hear her own voice. Not her magic. Something outside of her. Something she couldn't control, that was going to sweep her up and destroy her.

Everything around her was a mass of swirling colors, no substance, no reality to cling to. Her stomach was trying to fight its way out of her throat. Unable to form a spell, she cried out with all her strength, "Protect me!"

The abrupt silence was more disorienting than the chaos that had surrounded her. Willow slumped over on the floor, happy to have solid ground under her. After a few minutes, she blinked her eyes open to see the quartz ball, smugly pink and dark again. Sighing, she picked it up, closed the Circle, and fell on her bed.

The phone rang almost immediately. Willow wanted desperately to ignore it, but she didn't dare. What if it was Buffy? What if Giles had found out something desperately important? What if...

It was her mother. Great.

"Hi, Mom."

"Willow, I was just calling to remind you about the dinner." Sheila Rosenburg's voice was brisk and calm.

"I know, Mom, you reminded me already," Willow said impatiently.

"Not recently enough. It's six o'clock tomorrow night. Don't be late."

"Tomorrow night?" Willow asked blankly. "I thought it was tonight."

"Why would you think that? It's always on Saturday night. Every year. I'll see you then. Love you, dear. Bye."

"Okay," Willow said after staring at the ceiling for several minutes. "Something's wrong here." She started pacing again. "Today's Saturday, right? Mom has the dates confused. Mom never has the dates confused. Thursday was Thanksgiving, Buffy headed down to LA Friday morning, called Friday afternoon, Giles and I did research Friday night. This is *Saturday* morning." Relieved that she'd worked it out to her satisfaction, Willow sat down.

And stood up again. "Mom would never mix up the dates. Never, ever, ever. And something weird happened just now. Giles," she decided, heading for the phone. "He'll know what's going on."

His phone rang eight times before a very bleary British voice said, "What?"

"Giles, what day is it today?"

"Willow, you woke me up at... what time is it?"

"About nine thirty."

"Oh, it's that late already? Regardless, you woke me to ask what day it was?"

"Yes," Willow said meekly. "It's kind of important."

Giles sighed. "It's Friday, as I would hope you would know, as your American Thanksgiving --"

"Not mine," Willow objected automatically.

Giles continued "--always falls on a Thursday."

"Oh." Deflated, Willow sat down. "Giles?"

Endless frayed patience rang through Giles' voice. "Yes, Willow?"

"I've got this problem."

"What is it?"

"I think I'm living the same day over again."

*** I've had enough of trying everything
*** And this time it is the end

"All right, Willow, calmly and slowly, tell me what is wrong."

"Giles," Willow nearly wailed. She'd broken land speed records getting over to his apartment, and he was talking to her like kindly doctor to a mental patient. "I told you. The day is repeating. I'm caught in some kind of time loop or something. We have to figure out what is wrong."

"Willow, please. You're making my head hurt. I didn't sleep well last night. Our houseguest," he said with heavy irony, "kept me up most of the night with his complaining."

"Put a sleep spell on him," Willow suggested. "That's what you did yesterday, to keep him quiet."

"Yes, I did, just before you came." Suddenly intrigued, Giles looked at Willow more closely. "You're sure that what you remember wasn't just a dream?"

Willow shook her head definitely. "I couldn't have dreamed all that. Well, I could, but only if I'd eaten a pint of Chunky Monkey. Which I did, except for it's in the refrigerator uneaten, so therefore I never ate it so it wasn't a dream."

Giles was silent for a moment. "If I asked you to repeat that, it still wouldn't make sense, would it?"

"Don't think so."

"Right." Briskly shaking his head, Giles crossed to his kitchen to pour Willow a cup of tea. "Tell me what happened yesterday... today... I mean, the first time you went through today."

Willow took the cup and wrapped her fingers around it, gratefully absorbing the heat. "I woke up, and did some thinking, and, well... I decided to practice some magic..."

"Willow, in your current state of mind, I hardly think witchcraft is a good idea--"

"I said practice. Practice makes perfect, right? Anyway, I did a protection spell, and everything was okay. My mom called to remind me about the dinner party she always, and I mean *always* has the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and I promised her I'd be there. Then I read for a few hours, watched TV, then took a nap."

Willow took a deep breath and gulped some of the hot tea. "Then Buffy called from LA. She'd seen Angel, they'd fought a Mora demon together...."

"Mora demon," Giles said musingly. He rose and started scanning his bookshelves.

Willow sighed and crossed to a stack of books across the room. "Here. You grabbed this book, looked through it, and said, 'Hmm. Yes. Quite.'"

Giles took the book, and began to page through it. "Oh, I see. Mora demon. Hmm. Yes. Qu--" He cut off the rest of the word and met Willow's eyes. "Then what happened?"

"Buffy said something about their blood regenerating whatever it touched. It must've touched Angel... because he became mortal."

Giles took off his glasses and sat on the couch, never once taking his eyes off Willow's face. "Say again?"

"The Mora demon's blood made Angel mortal," Willow repeated.

"My God," Giles said faintly. "Then what?"

"We researched until the wee small hours of the morning, found out that yes, it was possible, and then I went home and went to sleep. Buffy called me this morning... Saturday morning, I mean, and said that Angel had been injured, and that she was terrified he was going to get himself killed trying to fight bad guys. I got up and cast another Circle--" she ignored Giles' snort "--and in the middle of it, something happened."

"What kind of something?"

Willow dropped onto the couch. "It's hard to describe. It was like... drowning. I couldn't see or hear, but I knew something was really, really wrong. When it ended, I was sitting on the floor in the Circle. I closed it, and my mother called, saying exactly the same thing she had the day before... including saying that our Saturday night dinner was *tomorrow*."

Giles pushed his glasses back on and looked at the book in his hand. "It's... incredible," he decided.

"Incredible? It's awful! What if I have to keep living this day over and over and over again?"

"Willow," Giles said patiently. "This isn't that movie with the hedgehog."

"Groundhog," Willow muttered.

"We're not sure what happened to begin with, but there is no reason to believe that you will have to go through this... time warp again."

"How do you know? If the day repeated once, what's to keep it from repeating again and again? If nothing changes, then what's going to make it stop? I don't want to live this day forever! If I do..." Her voice trailed off and she looked away.

"If you do," Giles prompted gently.

"I keep thinking, this is probably the best day of Buffy's life. All she ever wanted was to be able to be with Angel." Willow raised her face, and a tear slipped down one cheek. "But if I keep living this day, I'll never see Oz again. I don't think I could stand that."

"Oh, Willow." All the world's sympathy and understanding was in his voice. "We'll find an answer, I promise you."

*** In the terms of endearment
*** In the terms of the life that you love
*** In the terms of the years that pass you by
*** In the terms of the reasons why

They didn't though. By the time Willow looked at the clock and realized she had to be back in the dorm room to get Buffy's first call, they hadn't turned up one scrap of information about days repeating or time dispersement or anything at all.

Standing at the window, Willow looked out over the campus. If she had to repeat one day into eternity, it was a pretty one. And she would never have to go to one of her Mom's post-Thanksgiving dinners ever again. She wouldn't have to take any exams, or fight any scary monsters.

She'd never hang out with her buds again. Or see any new movies, read any new books.

She'd never kiss Oz again. And that was a fate worse than death.

Folding her arms on the windowsill, Willow rested her head on them and waited for the phone to ring, drifting. She'd have to figure out what to tell Buffy. What did Buffy said in the second phone call, that Angel had gone off to fight the demon, and left her behind? So she'd warn Buffy, Willow decided. Something short, simple, and to the point. Don't let Angel out of your sight. Don't let him leave you alone.

Willow stretched her arms above her head, stiff from sitting still for so long, and glanced at the clock. It read 3:30. Buffy called at three the last time. Willow was sure of it.

Why would something have changed... unless she wasn't the only one who was aware of the instant replay of Friday?

Willow sat for another hour, staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring. When it because glaringly obvious that Buffy wasn't going to call to tell her that Angel was mortal, Willow got up, went to the refrigerator, pulled out the uneaten pint of Chunky Monkey, and went back to bed.

*** There's no more coming back this way
*** The path is overgrown and strewn with thorns
*** They've torn the life blood from your naked eyes
*** Cast aside to be forlorn

If she had to spend the rest of eternity reliving this day, Willow promised herself, she wouldn't spend it waiting beside telephones that rang or didn't ring, or rang when she least expected them, or ringing to tell her the same thing again and again. Even now she could hear it, with her head buried under the pillows, ringing and ringing and...

Giving in to the summons, Willow poked her head out and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, Will. How's it going? Enjoying your day off?" Buffy's voice was studiedly casual and cheery.

"You don't even want to know. What's up?"

"Nothing. Just calling in to say hi. Anything interesting going on in Sunnydale?

"Nary a vampire or spotted demon to be seen," Willow said truthfully. "How about you?"

"Nah. Not much. Well..." Buffy sighed. "I went to go see Angel."

"I kinda figured you would," Willow told her.

"Transparent much? Anyway, I yelled at him for sneaking around Sunnydale. And in the middle of it, this demon broke into the office. Before I blinked he smashed it in the face and killed it."

Willow's hand clenched on the bed. "Demon?"

"Yeah. I think he called it a Mora demon, or something. Apparently he's been doing his homework."

"So Angel killed it." ~Before getting its blood on him, before becoming mortal... why did it change?~ "Then what happened?"

"Nothing. I told him that he needed to stop following me around. If we're going to break up, he has to break up too. And we'd just have to start forgetting." Buffy took a deep breath. "I feel good, Will. I mean, in a really lousy way, but... he kept being the one to say yes, no, in, out. It wasn't fair for him to come back without telling me. And now I've gotten to say what I think. If I've got to play by his rules, he's got to play by mine. And so now... it's over."

Willow closed her eyes. ~Oz, please don't go, please don't go, I wish you hadn't gone...~ "Buffy... if you had three wishes, what would they be?" She could hear the faint tremor in her own voice.

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. "I'm not going to wish anymore, Willow," Buffy said very gently. "It doesn't do any good anyway. Miracles don't happen. You've just got to take what you can, and go on with it."

"Buffy," Willow said desperately. "I --" ~I can't tell her. I can't tell her that she had a miracle and lost it. It isn't fair and it isn't right, but I can't tell her.~

"Yeah, Will?"

"I... I'll see you Sunday."

*** Funny how it seems that all I've tried to do
*** Seemed to make no difference to you at all...

Maybe it wasn't the healthiest thing in the world to spend time here, Willow thought, looking around Oz's apartment. But she'd lost so much of Oz when he left that she needed what was left of him in the apartment. His things. His scent. The illusion that if she just turned her head he'd be sitting next to her, smiling at her again.

Curled up on the floor, Willow hugged his pillow to her chest. Buffy hadn't seemed to have noticed that anything weird had happened. Willow's most careful probing questions were met with ignorance or confusion.

"At least I don't have to live Friday ever again," Willow told the empty room. She'd woken up Saturday anxiously checking the TV, her computer, the newspaper, anything that could reassure her that it wasn't going to turn into Friday without her noticing it. Willow wasn't convinced until she went to her mother's dinner party. That dinner party was *always* the Saturday after Thanksgiving. She didn't need to wonder anymore.

But she remembered, when Buffy didn't. And she couldn't help wondering...

Suddenly making up her mind, Willow went to Oz's desk. He didn't keep an address book... that would have been a little too normal. But she knew the way his mind worked, and generally could find what she needed in his clutter.

Like a tiny scrap of paper he had brought back from LA with Angel's phone number on it.

She wasn't going to tell him what had happened if he didn't remember, Willow lectured herself as she dialed. She just wanted to know. She waited while the phone rang half a dozen times, and was about to hang up when an unfamiliar voice said, "Yeah, Angel Investigations, what?"

"Um... can I talk to Angel? Please?"

"Angel? And who might I say is calling?" In the longer phrase, his voice proved to have a very nice Irish accent.

"Tell him it's Willow."

"Willow. Right. One moment."

It was considerably more than one moment before the phone clattered again and Angel's worried voice said, "Willow. Is there something wrong?"

"Nope, no wrongness. Just... checking-in-ness. Buffy said you killed a demon."

"Yeah." Angel's voice had gone as flat and expressionless as Willow had ever heard it. "I did."

Willow's courage quailed, but she persisted. "Giles and I did some research, and I can tell you..."

"I know what the demon is, and I know what it can do. That's all I need to know." Angel's voice was still flat, but he'd lost the fight to keep emotion out of it.

Willow closed her eyes and sighed. "You're the one that changed things, aren't you? That's why things happened differently. That's why the day didn't repeat again."

"How did you... What are you talking about?"

Willow felt her confidence returning. "You can't lie to me, Angel. Buffy called from LA and said that you were mortal. I didn't dream it. I know it happened."

After a long moment Angel said, "It never happened. Not really. The day was taken back, its consequences lost. They said... they said that she would be killed if they weren't stopped. And I couldn't stand by and let that happen. No one was supposed to remember but me." Angel made a broken sound of frustration and grief. "Not even Buffy remembered. She wanted to. She tried so hard. But some things are impossible."

Fighting tears, Willow said, "Angel?"

"What?"

"She said it was a miracle. That it was what she wanted most in the world. Maybe she doesn't remember... but that's what she wanted."

"I know. Willow?"

"Angel?"

"Take care of her, will you?"

Willow lost the battle, and a tear slipped down her cheek. "I will."

After hanging up the phone, Willow leaned her head on Oz's bed and indulged in a few moments of sniffling. She'd known for a long time that life wasn't fair. But sometimes it was particularly hard to take.

Buffy loved Angel. Angel loved Buffy. Willow loved Oz. Oz loved Willow.

And nothing any of them could do could make everything be all right.

Sighing, Willow picked up the phone again and called their dorm room. "Buffy? Wanna meet me at the ice cream place? I want to drown my sorrows in double-chocolate chip."

Love was fragile, friends could leave, and fate was unkind. But at least chocolate was forever.

THE END