THOUGHTS OF LOVE
Laura Smith
I didn't think hearing Cordelia's name would have an impact on me, but when it is announced, I feel the traditional surge of pride. I smile at her from my spot on the podium; Snyder's little concession to our uneasy truce.
She smiles back, somewhat sadly. She will be leaving tomorrow.
When Alexander Harris is called, it takes a moment before it registers. It seems strange after knowing him for so long as Xander to see his smiling face under a different name.
I think briefly of the late nights he and Willow have been putting in at the library lately, determined that he would graduate, then push the thought out of my mind. I don't want to think about her just yet.
The names go on, the parade of graduates streaming past me. I stop listening until Buffy is called.
"Buffy Anne Summers."
I could not be more proud than if she were my own daughter. I suppose, in many ways, she is.
Snyder hands her the diploma reluctantly and shakes her hand. From the look on his face and the wink she gives me, I know she's using some of her amazing strength in her grip.
I hear a soft giggle to my left and look over at the woman I've been trying to avoid all day. She's smiling at me, sharing Buffy's secret, and I can't help but return the smile as I look away.
I never thought I'd be afraid to look at Willow.
They say revelation hits you like a thunderclap or a bolt of lightning. The sudden realization you have when something you've known all along comes to make sense for the first time in your life.
It hit me last night as she practiced her valedictorian speech for me. It was as though the blinders I'd been wearing fell away and I could see.
I'm in love with her.
It's been building, perhaps since the day we met, but in earnest in this past year. Since Angelus killed Jenny and I found that I could lean on her and she would support me. I could trust her and she would not let me down. That I could need her and she would be there.
Of course, this clarity came when I realized she quite possibly wouldn't be there anymore. She mentioned moving on in her speech and I was shocked to discover that she had yet to tell any of us what her plans were after graduation. Which I have a harsh suspicion means she's going to be walking away.
I was frozen, standing there, listening to her voice as it washed over me. I had leaned back against the circulation desk, uncertain if my legs would support me. I had never imagined my life without her in it. Even that first night, when Buffy hunted the vampire that had led Willow, unsuspecting, from the Bronze, a special twinge of fear had filled me.
I accept the fact that I want her. I accepted that long ago, the night that she tried so valiantly to rid the school of the spirits of James and Grace. The stairwell had tried to suck her down into its depths and I'd pulled her free. We'd rolled down the stairs together and ended up entangled on the cold floor.
Ever since that night, whenever I close my eyes, I imagine her body in my arms. But I never thought…never suspected it would come to this. And now I know that I'm going to lose her and I wonder if I have the courage to tell her how I feel. I wonder if I have the strength to look her in the eye and reveal my heart to her.
I wonder if I'll survive her disbelief.
I hear Snyder call the last name on the list and refocus my attention. There is still one more diploma to be handed out. He turns to the left side of the stage and holds out his hand. "Your Valedictorian, Miss Willow Rosenberg."
I can see the trembling in her limbs as she walks forward to endure the final hardship of her high school career. The burgundy gown reaches down to her knees and I try not to stare at her shapely legs. I force my eyes back to her face as she blushes, receiving the certificate with humble grace. She steps up to the podium and I can't help but wonder what it would feel like to push the burgundy cap from her hair and run my fingers through the shoulder-length tresses.
"Today," she says softly, the microphone carrying her voice out over the crowd. "We find a new challenge. The past is gone, merely memories. Some good, some bad. But each memory, no matter its source or affiliation, is a tool that helps us build our future. Today, some of us will start building our lives here in sight of our past. Today, others will take the memories to a new place and find a start out of their long shadow." I knew she was looking at Cordelia. "We have duties, obligations. We have the world upon our shoulders." Buffy. "But we are young, we are free." Xander. "We have choices. But most of all, we have destiny to guide us. And nothing to stop us but fear. But I promise you all, no matter how frightened you might be or where your destiny might take you, someone is watching."
I smile. She added that part without telling me.
"I'm not so wise as to pretend to have all the answers. But I do know this, we've all proven we can survive the greatest of odds." Her smile comes through in her voice, as does her relief. She's almost finished. "Which, if you think about it, can only mean one thing." Leaning forward, she giggled into the mike. "Yay us."
The crowd erupts into applause and I can't help but chuckle. She is the most intriguing mix of intelligence and innocence, even in light of what she knows about the world. Snyder frowns as he steps back toward the microphone to quell the raucous crowd. Willow hurries back to her seat, her face flushed with nerves and excitement, her smile contagious.
She turns from the seat she'd been sitting in and instead moves to sit next to me at the back of the stage. She hands me her diploma and grasps her tassel as Snyder makes the announcement. As one, the graduating class of Sunnydale High moves their tassels and become graduates. As the gymnasium erupts into cheers and catcalls, Willow very discreetly slips her hand into mine and squeezes.
I'm a very happy man.
***
I don't know which is worse, the fact that the teenagers dancing around find this music tolerable or the fact that I'm required to endure two hours of it. I can't believe I'm actually wishing it were Oz's band on stage, at least they have some semblance of talent, however miniscule.
I'm walking around the room, surveying all the dark corners making sure no students are indulging in Xander and Cordelia's favorite activity, and making very sure no one is indulging in Spike's. Buffy is dancing with Angel, enjoying their last night together. It's a fast song that the band is playing, but they're moving as though it was a symphony.
Xander and Cordelia are, surprisingly, not in a utility closet. They're also out on the floor, dancing closely but more in tune with the music than my Slayer and her…boyfriend. My eyes continue scanning the crowd, searching for a soft flash of red hair or green eyes. Leaning back against the wall, I rub the bridge of my nose, wondering if I have any aspirin in the library.
"Hey, Giles."
She's standing on tiptoe next to me, her breath warm against my ear. I try to suppress the shudder of longing that ricochets through me at her touch. "Willow."
"Having fun?" I can tell by her soft smile that she knows the answer to her question, so I smile instead of reply.
"Why aren't you dancing?"
"Who should I dance with?" She shrugs and I am happy to note there is no self-pity in her voice. "They've only got tonight. I figure they should enjoy some of it without having to worry about wallflower Willow. Just some of it, though. I fully intend to be paid attention to." She giggles.
"You did well today, during your speech." I lean down so that she can hear me over the music, and wonder if the feeling of my breath wreaks havoc on her like hers does me. "I was very proud."
Her smile lights up the room and my heart. I need to get away from her soon, or I'm very sure I'll be spilling my emotions to her, frightening her away. The sparkle of pride in her eyes from my simple compliment serves only to remind me that she's so very young.
The music changes and suddenly Buffy and Angel aren't so out of place in their dancing style. Willow grabs my hand and pulls me to the floor. "Come on, Giles. Dance with me."
***
The song is Sinatra, though I can't remember the title. She tugs me to a relatively secluded area of the dance floor and I follow willingly.
We slip underneath the bleachers and darkness surrounds us as the music fades to a pleasant roar.
"I really should be watching…" my protest fades as she slips into my arms and wraps hers around my waist.
Willow lays her head against my chest and tightens her arms slightly. "You look nice tonight," she whispers.
I place one hand on her waist, the satin of her graduation gown slipping under my fingers. I wonder briefly why she hasn't changed as I try to decide what to do with my other hand.
Snuggling closer, she brings her one hand up to my chest and runs it under my lapel. I think about catching it in my own when I realize what I want to do.
I raise it and stroke her hair. The auburn cascade feels like silk as I pet it, noticing that we're holding each other almost as closely as we can be.
I push the thought away, but not before my body responds. She ducks her head and I know she's feeling the hardening press of my erection against her stomach.
But - Gods - she isn't pulling away. Perhaps, I hope fervently, since Oz is so much shorter than I am, she isn't aware of what it is. Or perhaps she hasn't noticed.
She giggles softly and that hope dies. At least until I hear her soft voice. "Should we keep dancing?"
The music has changed. Quite a while ago from the sound of it. I feel the blush creep up my face before I remember that she just noticed it too.
"Would you like to?" Is that my voice? Surely that deep, sexy timbre is because of the acoustics.
She nods against my chest and we continue to sway slowly in the darkness. It takes all of my willpower not to tilt her chin up and kiss her until she's breathless. It takes willpower I didn't know I possessed not to fulfill my heart's desire and carry her through the dance, to my car, up to my bed. I realize, with another bolt of revelation, that, if the opportunity presented itself, I would make love to her.
If she asked me now, I would say yes without the slightest hesitation.
If she doesn't ask me…well, I haven't thought that far in advance.
When the song ends, she pulls back and I wish I could see her. I want nothing more than to see what is in her eyes and know if she is going to leave all of this - leave me - behind.
"I should go out there and remind Xander he has to dance with me at least once. And you have…chaperone-y things to do. So…I…"She starts to back away then stops. Darting forward, she places a soft, chaste kiss on my lips. "Thanks for the dance, Giles."
She walks away from me, tossing a quick smile over her shoulder. I watch her, already aching for her to touch me again. I take a deep breath and try to control my body's reaction to her. The last thing I want to do is go out there into a room full of high school students with a raging erection. Not that I'd be the only one, although I'm certain to be the only adult.
I lean against the bleachers and sigh. I've hugged her before. I've held her before. But I don't think I've ever needed or wanted her this much before. I remember the first day I saw her in the library. She was so alive and enthusiastic, so lovely in her innocence. I had the most amazing dream about her…well, I like to think it wasn't her so much as the idea of her - she was far too young for me. Once I'd gotten to know her, I felt incredibly embarrassed for having had such thoughts.
Only once I got to know her, I couldn't stop the thoughts or the dreams from coming. They were mostly innocent, what I remember of them, at least until Halloween when she showed up in that…well, I suppose you would technically call it an outfit, although I think it was more of a lack of one. That night, despite my feelings for Jenny, I dreamed about Willow doing the most…un-Willowlike things to me.
And now I can add this moment just past to my storehouse of touches and looks that keep my nights filled with her. I can imagine what it would be like to undress her, slip her out of that gown and lower her to my bed. To take her body against mine…and my erection isn't going to subside any time soon if I keep this course of thought.
I leave the area under the bleachers, letting the din of the dance wash over me. I try not to look for her, but my eye automatically seeks her out. She's dancing with Xander and she looks young and beautiful. She looks like she'd never glance in my direction.
But she does, her smile widening and her wink meant for my eyes only. Not thinking, I blow her a kiss, amazed at my audacity. She giggles, burying her head in Xander's shoulder. I imagine I can hear her soft laughter and wish it were meant only for me.
I watch the small group of them pridefully, although my gaze is constantly captured by her. I'm about to walk forward, maybe ask her to dance after my obligatory dance with my Slayer when I feel a hand on my shoulder. Snyder stands there, his face puckered in a frown. "You can go now."
"Pardon?"
"You can go now. Your shift is over."
"I thought I might…"
"Go. Once your chaperoning duties are over, you leave. That's how it works here at Sunnydale High." He cast a quick glance over at the group. "Especially for you trouble makers."
I think about arguing, then nod and head out of the room. Seeing Buffy's mother by the doors, I know that I can't cause a scene tonight. I feel Willow's eyes on me as I leave and can't help but wonder what might have happened if I had the opportunity to hold her again. I make my way to Joyce's side, my heart heavy. I don't want to think about what might have been, but I can't shake the feeling that may be all I have left.
I notice Joyce is standing next to Willow's mother - odd that they're still friends after all that's been said and done. I would have thought Joyce would have distanced herself from anything that reminded her of the "MOO" fiasco. "Hello, Mrs. Rosenberg. Joyce."
"Mr. Giles," Willow's mother said softly. "Willow talks so much about you. I'm sure she'll mis…excuse me." She turns away and my fears coalesce into truth. A truth Willow obviously doesn't want any of us to know. She's leaving Sunnydale. She's leaving town.
She's leaving me.
I want to laugh that it's come to that in my mind. Damn her friends and family. She's leaving me. And my need to have her in my life in some capacity is tossed by the wayside. I glance back over my shoulder to see her laughing with her friends and wonder if she'll give me the chance to say goodbye.
And exactly how I'll say it.
***
The library is like home, dark and peaceful despite the Hellmouth it sits atop. I wander through me office feeling restless. I thumb through my journal wanting to write the day's events down, should any other Slayer want hope that there is a future of sorts for them, but my mind is too full of her. My thoughts on the long sweep of her neck, the soft curve of her breast, the way she felt in my arms as we moved slowly in the dark.
I get up and pace my office, driving myself a little bit crazy. It's ridiculous to harbor these thoughts. It's insane to think of myself as anything other than her mentor. So we'd shared a dance, a few glances. I would be much better off getting my mind back on my work and off of the soft swell of her breasts.
Much better.
I leave my office and pace the library, searching for solace in one of the books. Fantasizing about her when I'm lying in bed is one thing; doing so in the library is quite another. Admittedly, I've indulged in both, but I need to find something to get my mind off of her. I pick a book off the shelf and take it back to my office. I don't care what it is. I've grabbed it from the fiction section just to make sure it's nothing I've read before.
I look down at the faded cover and moan softly. Lolita. Christ. Still, I turn the page, hoping the plight of Humbert will remind me that lusting after young girls…loving younger women is not the smartest thing to do.
***
I don't know how long I've been reading. Nabachov is involving. I look up at the clock, surprised it is so late. The floor still throbs with bass though, so I know the dance is still in full swing. It takes me a moment to realize I'd heard something, which in my job can be fatal. I walk out of my office and look around.
Nothing out of the ordinary. Which is quite a change from how Sunnydale normally is.
I sit down at the table and start reading again. I'm just getting to the good part.