Author name - CPS Boy
Email Address - CBran40478@aol.com
Rating - G, so far anyway (its a work in progress)
Disclaimer - Angst... major. Takes place right after season five final, but sort of alternate universe, where everything up to that point happened the same, except Willow misses her chance to restore Tara's sanity
Feedback- yes please! Just keep in mind that it is my first and only fanfic attempt ever.
Summary- Obviously, the story revolves around Willow's efforts to heal Tara. I really wanted to explore the depths of Willow's love for Tara and just how far she is willing to go to get her back....
Notes- Playing on the theme of the end of season 5, there is some exploration of Willow's dark side... but I promise, no lame Willow as the big bad storyline, (like we had this year). There are going to be some moral questions raised. Do the ends justify the means? I try to be really true to the characters, please let me know if I'm off and if I should bother to finish it......
Aftermath
For the sixth day in a row, Willow Rosenberg brushed aside the red hair that curled around her face as she watched the sun rise over the town of Sunnydale and spill its light into the UC Sunnydale dorm room that she shared (illegally) with Tara. Four weeks of caring for Tara had etched weariness into Willow’s face. Her skin was paler than usual
and the dark lines under her eyes betrayed Tara’s erratic sleeping patterns. Turning away from the window, she glanced at Tara, who had finally fallen asleep.
Exhausted and stressed out, she walked across the room and fell into the chair she had pulled in front of the door. Tara rarely spent more than two hours sleeping at any given time and tended to wander off, a lesson Willow had learned early on. Tara’s doctors had told Willow that she may have to be restrained, especially at night, but she could never bring herself to restrain the woman she loved. O.K., sure, she had no problem locking wolfy Oz up for several nights a month, but this was different. When Oz changed he was a danger to others, Willow could not conceive of Tara ever hurting anyone.
Willow had watched and waited, and prayed to every god that she had ever heard of that Tara would get better, but she didn’t get better... she’s not getting better. The miracles of modern science hadn’t proven to be anymore effective. Tara’s doctors had prescribed every antipsychotic medication they knew of, but nothing seemed to help. Little green and blue wastes of time. No big surprise though, hell-bitch induced delirium isn’t exactly a recognized mental disorder.
Willow yawned and felt her eyes begin to close as she sunk deeper into the chair. Taking care of her is so much harder than I had ever thought it it would be, she thought in a sleepy haze. But I can deal... this is my fault, so I have to deal. I have to make it better. Her final thoughts, as she drifted into unconsciousness were of those rare, precious moments when Tara would smile at her, and say her name in such a way that Willow was certain that she was aware of what was going on around her. Willow lived for those moments. She also thought of how much she missed Tara, and of how lonely she was every other minute of the day.
* * *
The two books that perhaps represented Willow’s most defining character traits lay open upon her desk when she awoke a mere ninety minutes after falling asleep. A
week overdue to UCS’s library, The American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders lay open to the section on delirium, speaking
volumes about Willow’s intelligence, her curiosity, her need to always understand what was going on. The other book, Sahad Ibin Rashid’s Spells and Enchantments Affecting
the Human Mind was nearly a physical manifestation of Willow’s absolute refusal to be held back by the realities of the mundane world. Here lay power - the ability to shape
reality to her will. If there is a way to repair the damage done to Tara, Willow knew that she would find it the dusty old tomes of the arcane arts, not the sterile halls of Sunnydale
General.
Indeed, magic had given her the answer, a way to fix Tara - and Willow had screwed it up. A single mispronounced syllable of ancient Aramaic while casting the spell had rendered it ineffective. With Glory now dead, Willow had missed her chance, had failed Tara, and she was not completely certain that she would ever be able to forgive
herself for that failure.
Sighing, she stood stiffly and glanced at Tara who still, surprisingly, slept peacefully on the bed with Miss Kitty Fantastico curled up on her legs. That single moment of failure seemed to mark the beginning of the complete and utter collapse of Willow’s world. Buffy had died, her father had taken Dawn to live with him in San Diego, Giles was, at that very moment, packing to return to England and Xander had become somewhat depressed and withdrawn from everyone. Even her studies, which through everything in her life had been her pillar of stability, had crumbled. Not showing up to take her finals had resulted in F’s in all of her classes. Willow had never, ever, gotten anything but A’s, however, a terrifying flight from Sunnydale and Buffy’s subsequent death had destroyed a life-time of 4.0s. This loss was deeply traumatic for Willow, and combined with Joyce’s death, and Tara’s fall into insanity, her ability to cope had been nearly destroyed. Only her desire to heal Tara kept her going.
‘I’m going to get you back, ’she had told Tara.
Though her first attempt had failed, Willow intended to fulfill that promise.
“I can do this,” she told herself again.
Turning, Willow caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror that hung on her door. For the first time in nearly a week, she took a minute to actually look at herself, and she barely recognized the person looking back at her. Still dressed in the same blue jeans and light green cutoff t-shirt that she had on yesterday, Willow suddenly felt the
overwhelming need for a shower. Her short, red hair lacked the curls that Tara loved so much and hung flat on her head. She ran her fingers through her hair, and noticed, for the
first time, what terrible shape her fingernails were in. The peach colored paint was weeks old and was flaking away. The nails themselves were chewed short, a nervous habit that
Willow had not acted on since high school and had thought that she had beaten. Her skin seemed paler than usual and she had lost the little bit of weight that she had put on since
coming to college. Dark circles rimmed her large green eyes that seems so filled with weariness as of late. Turning her head slightly she looked at the angry red scar that ran for
three and a half inches down the right side of her face from her eye level to her cheek. Willow had gotten the scar when Spike’s stolen Winnebego had tipped over. She had
fallen face first onto an arrowhead that was sticking through the side of the wall, an inch to the left and it might have killed her. She had hoped that the wound would have healed
without leaving a scar. No such luck however, and at the moment Willow found it difficult to care.
Music, turned up entirely too loud, shook the wall between Willow and the room next door.
Tara moaned, stirred, and sat up in bed.
Miss Kitty hopped off the bed and mewed at her empty food bowl.
“I can do this,” Willow whispered.
* * *
The day proceeded in much the same manner as the day before it had, and the day before that had. Tara, who had become very quiet since the battle with Glory, spent most
of her day staring out the window or wandering around the room. Willow changed Tara’s clothing, brushed her hair, and tried, without much success, to get Tara to eat some food
that she had lifted from the commons the day before.
Willow managed to catch a few cat naps throughout the day, but she spent the majority of it in research mode. Willow felt herself becoming increasingly frustrated with her lack of progress. She was looking not just for a spell that might help, but for even the mention of such a spell, so Willow was forcing herself to read every word. In spite of her slow progress, she found herself reading through the last of the books in her collection, though Giles had promised to leave his considerably larger collection in the Magic Box for
her to study.
At nearly seven p.m. both Willow and Tara were startled by a knock on the door.
Tara turned toward the door, her eyes wide with fear. “They are here! I missed the big day, and they’ve come for me!”
Willow rushed to comfort her, and whispered into her ear in her most soothing voice, “Shhhh, baby, it’s O.K.., I’m here”.
Tara responded almost immediately, her body relaxed, and she pulled slightly away. The two wiccans’eyes met, and Willow was startled by the clarity she saw in her lover’s eyes. “Willow?” Tara asked suddenly.
“T-Tara?” Willow asked as she grabbed the arms of the taller wiccan, “Tara!” she nearly shouted.
Another knock sounded at the door. Willow looked at in with annoyance, “Just a second!” she yelled. Turning back to Tara, her name on her lips, a name that she stopped short of saying for the third time when she noticed that the glassy, unfocused appearance had returned to the blonde’s eyes. Even the blue of her irises seemed duller. Willow felt
emotionally crushed. She helped Tara onto the bed, and watched for a moment as she stared blankly at the wall.
Fighting back tears Willow walked to the door and jerked it open. “Who?... Xander? What are you... what’s up?”.
Xander led Anya into the room, “Hey Willow, you didn’t forget did ya?”
“Forget, what?”
Xander looked his childhood friend over for a moment, “Jeez Will, you look like hell. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m...” the redhead looked down at herself, “I need to take a shower, could you?” she asked, nodding at Tara.
“Umm, sure Will. No hurry, we can wait, and we’ll keep an eye on Tara.” Xander replied.
Willow took a moment to collect her bathroom bag and a change of clothes. “What are we waiting for?”
Xander looked confused, “huh?”
“Patrol”, Anya piped in, “you two are supposed to patrol with Giles tonight, remember? While I’m stuck... umm, while I watch Tara.”
Xander glanced at his fiancee with a panicked expression, then looked at Willow who, it was clear by the expression on her face, had both missed Anya’s near verbal disaster, and had completely forgotten the patrol. “You still up for that Will?”
Willow picked up her clothes and walked to the door without responding. “I’ll only be a few minutes”.
Willow stood under the hot water that flowed from the shower head and realized, after only a few minutes, that the water was unlikely to help with the tension that had built up over the past weeks. She felt it in every inch of muscle, every centimeter of skin. She put her head under the water, allowing it to flow over her face, struggling to maintain
emotional control. Unable to hold the stress in any longer, the twenty year old wiccan began to weep. Her salt filled tears mixed with the tap water flowing down her face. Her
crying grew more and more intense until Willow fell to her knees in the shower and sobbed in a miserable heap. Had anyone come in during this time, they would have seen a
woman so filled with pain and tension that any reasonable person would assume that the sobbing would never stop. No one came in.
* * *
Just as Xander had convinced Anya to go in and check on his best friend, Willow walked through the door, a mere 40 minutes after leaving. “Hey Will, feelin’ better?”
Xander asked, “we were getting worried there.”
“Sorry,” she responded, “and yes, thank you.” The truth was, that Willow was feeling a little better, funny how a good cry works that way, she thought. Well, a good cry, a hot shower, and a clean change of clothes. Willow had changed into a peach sun dress that came down to her ankles and had even managed to put on a little make-up. She sat on the edge of her bed and slipped on a pair of open-toed sandals.
Xander, however had grown concerned about Willow in the last hour. I can’t believe I let it get this bad, he thought, I’ve been so wrapped up in my own stuff that I didn’t even notice the pain that my best friend since childhood is in. That ends now, he thought. “Willow, you ready?”
Willow looked with concern at Tara, who still stared blankly around the room. “I don’t know Xand, she doesn’t like it when I’m not with her,” she whispered meekly. “Maybe I should...”
“Don’t worry Willow, I’ll watch her,” Anya offered.
Xander smiled at Willow, “Don’t worry Will, Anya will take good care of her, she’s done it before. Besides, I think this is just what you need, one last patrol before the scoobies are officially disbanded.”
Willow looked unconvinced.
“Come on girl,” Xander took her hand and pulled her to her feet, “Giles is counting on us.”
This seemed to get through to her. Slipping into what she had once referred to as her resolve face, Willow kissed Tara on the forehead, picked up a spell book and an amulet from off her bookcase and headed for the door. “Lets do this then”.
* * *
Xander and Willow walked through the door of the magic shop, and Willow didn’t notice, at first glance anyway, anything missing. That seemed wrong to her somehow.
With Giles set to fly home to England in just two days, it just didn’t seem right that so much of him was being left behind. Giles had arranged for Anya to take over the day to
day running of the shop, a decision Willow deeply doubted the wisdom of. At any rate, only a few personal items had been removed, and it seemed to Willow that Giles was
leaving behind everything that she had come to associate with him. It seemed wrong, just wrong.
“Hey G-man! We’re here!” Xander shouted.
“Hello,” Giles said in his distinctive English accent as he walked out of what was, just a month ago, Buffy’s training room, “I thought I told you once never to call me that.”
“Hey Giles,” Willow said.
“Willow,” Giles walked over and gently squeezed her shoulder, “how are you? We’ve missed you,” he finished, glancing at Xander.
Willow managed a weak smile, “I’m O.K..”
“You sure?” he asked, concern obvious on his face.
“Yeah, I’m good. Ready for patrol? Its a nice night out for it, warm but not hot, ya know? And Xander, he was tellin’ me on the way over how all the vamps have gotten a lot more bold since...” Willow was suddenly aware of how painful a reminder of Buffy’s recent death would be for everyone, herself included, “ummm, I’m babbling again. Shutting up now”.
“Yeah Giles, let’s get to it”, Xander to the rescue, as always.
“Right then,” he replied, and grabbed two wooden stakes off the shop counter, “I’m ready.”
After turning the sign over to the closed side and locking the door the trio slipped into the night.
* * *
News of the slayer’s death had spread like wildfire through the ranks of vampires, demons and the other various low-lifes who stalked the night in Sunnydale. Emboldened by the news, the vampires in particular seemed to have declared some sort of holiday, which, like so many holidays, seemed to include a feast. For the last month, the vampires that haunted the crypts, sewers and streets of Sunnydale had feasted without concern for their own safety. So when the five vampires began stalking the three fools dumb enough to be out after dark, they were expecting easy pickings. They had no idea how disappointed they would be.
Standing in one of Sunnydale’s nine cemeteries, the vampires moved to surround the trio. “The girl is mine,” the largest vamp told the others.
“Uhh, yes.... Willow?” Giles said.
“I need thirty seconds! ”she shouted. Reaching into her bag she pulled out a handful of sulfur and began chanting in Latin. Giles and Xander charged the vampires, hoping to give Willow the time she needed to cast her spell. Xander swung his stake in a wide, wild arc, hoping to force them back. He hoped the spell was a good one, otherwise they were in serious trouble.
Xander heard a great whooshing sound, like gasoline igniting, and the smell of sulfur was overpowering. The fight came to a screeching halt, as vampire and human alike turned to stare at the red-haired wiccan in terror. Willow held between her hands a flowing orb of fire, nearly three feet in diameter. The light from the ball of fire illuminated her face. Xander noticed the look of resolve and intense concentration etched on her
usually soft features. He also could not help noticing that Willow’s eyes had turned pitch black, as they had taken to doing lately. Xander couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable
about this recent development.
“Xander, Giles, get out of the way!” Willow shouted. The two men turned and ran. When her friends were clear Willow removed her hands from the flaming orb and took a step back. The sphere hovered in mid air like a miniature sun. Xander and Giles watched as the orb shifted and broke into five separate orbs. Two of the vamps snarled and lunged toward Willow, hands outstretched. The five balls of fire jerked suddenly and each homed in on a separate vampire. The two that had charged Willow were the first to be hit. Screaming horribly, they burst into flames. The sickening smell of burnt hair and skin filled the air. Just as those vampires dusted, the other three turned to run, orbs of fire
close behind.
Spike choose just that moment to emerge from his crypt to investigate the screams. “What the h.... bloody hell!” he shouted as one of the vampires landed screaming at his feet, covered in flames. Spike was barely able to jump out of the way before he was incinerated. The vampire dusted, followed shortly by another of his comrades. The final vamp got lucky. Falling to the ground at the last possible moment, the fireball sailed right over him, setting the front of a nearby crypt in flames.
The vamp got up almost immediately and began to run again. Spike figured that one was going to get away from whatever had attacked them. That’s when he heard chanting in what he thought was Spanish to his right. Turning, Spike was stunned to see Giles and Xander staring dumb-founded at Willow. The chanting ended and Spike watched in awe as a huge, translucent hand descended from the sky and picked the fleeing vamp off his feet like a fisherman pulling a caught trout from the river. The massive hand carried the screaming vampire back towards the witch.. With a thought from Willow the hand opened, spilling it’s contents onto the ground from a height of ten feet. It landed with a thud. Struggling to stand, the vampire began to beg for it’s miserable life. “Please,
please don’t kill me” he moaned. Spike couldn’t remember another of his kind ever looking more terrified. With a glance, the stakes that Giles and Xander still held ripped
themselves out of their hands and implanted themselves in the vampire’s back. By the time he dusted, the vampire still hadn’t figured out what had hit him.
The death of the last vampire snapped them out of their awe.
“Wow,” Xander whispered.
“Bloody hell Red,” Spike shouted walking towards her, “watch where your throwing those damn things. Ya damn near set my knickers on fire”.
“Umm. sorry,” she replied.
Looking around at the four patches of scorched earth and the one burning crypt, Spike was suitably impressed. “Not a bad night’s work though,” he commented, looking back at the unimposing hacker, “aren’t we just the new Big Bad?”
“Hey Evil Dead,” Xander piped in, “that’s Big Good.... Willow is good...”
Spike looked at the boy with something bordering on contempt. Giving Xander a knowing smile, he couldn’t help but push the issue. “Oh, yeah, right. And her eyes have
taken to going all black because of her unrivaled purity of spirit.”
That smug smile pretty much did it for Xander. “Hey Spike, don’t you have a bottle you should be crawling into?” he pointedly asked, fully aware of the vampire’s state
of affairs since Dawn had been taken away.
“I live here, remember? So why don’t you three sod off”.
Xander was about to respond when Giles cut him off. “I do believe that’s the first intelligent thing Spike has ever said. Best not to waste it. Xander, Willow, come along”. The two glanced at Spike, then followed the former watcher through the graveyard. When she thought Xander wasn’t looking, the ever-forgiving Willow turned and gave a small wave to Spike, who was watching the three leave with what Willow took as an
expression of loneliness on his face.
* * *
After the fireworks show in the cemetery, Giles decided that they had had enough patrolling for one evening. However, the night was pleasant; so, instead of splitting up, he had decided to walk Willow home, then drop off Xander. At some point, a point Giles could not quite put his finger on, these two children, adults now, had wormed their way into his heart. Leaving them would be almost as painful as staying would be. Almost.
“Hey, Will,” Giles heard Xander say when he tuned back in, “you know I have to be at work early, but I was thinking of coming by tomorrow.”
“Why?” Willow asked, looking up at her friend.
“Well, I was thinking that you could use a little break... That I’d keep an eye on Tara for ya. Give you a few minutes to yourself, run errands if you need to. You know, whatever you need.”
“That’s so sweet,” the young witch replied, taking Xander’s hand, “Thank you”.
“No big”, he replied, squeezing Willow’s hand. “I know that I’ve been kinda out of it for the last few weeks... that I haven’t been real big on the bein’ there category of the
friendship contest, but I just want you to know... that I’m here to help”.
Willow smiled as her eyes teared up. “Seems like my whole life you’ve been there to help me. You remember that time when I stayed over at your house... we were like seven? Your parents got really drunk and started to totally freak? I remember the yelling was so loud, and things were being thrown and breaking. I’ve fought vampires and demons and even a god, but I don’t remember ever being as scared as I was that night. You came back into the room after getting us something to eat, and I was hiding under your bed, crying, and wishing I was back at home. But you crawled under the bed with me, and held my hand like you’re doing now, and told me not to cry, ‘cause you would protect me. We stayed under there the rest of the night.” Willow paused a moment,
wiping her eyes, “I, umm, never stayed over at your house again after that, but you have always been there trying to protect me from whatever came along, vampires, big green
slimey demons.... Cordelia. And I know that all that is really babbley, even for me, but I’m just trying to say thanks.... so umm, thanks”, she finished awkwardly.
“No big”, Xander replied again, nearly speechless. “Oh, look” he said, nodding toward the Espresso Pump, “Who’s up for Java?”
“None for me thank you,” Giles replied.
“Strawberry smoothie?” Willow inquired hopefully.
“You got it, be right back,” Xander went into the coffee house while Giles and Willow took a seat on a nearby bench. An awkward silence settled in between the two. Willow stared at her exposed toes while Giles absently cleaned his glasses. After several minutes Giles stood up and looked into the window, trying to see Xander.
“Have you ever noticed that the line here never seems to move?” Giles glanced at his watch, “What are all these people doing here at ten-thirty at night anyway? Don’t
they have homes to go to?”
“I don’t know”, Willow responded, “same thing as us, maybe?”
Giles sat back down, “How is Tara?”
“Pretty much the same”.
Feeling another awkward silence coming on, Willow asked, “You all packed yet?”
“Umm, nearly so.” Giles watched as Willow frowned and stared back down toward her toes. “Willow, I know that your not keen on the idea of me leaving, and I am
sorry-”.
“Then don’t go.” The redhead bluntly replied.
“Willow,” Giles started patiently.
“No.” She said, turning to him “Please, please don’t leave. I-I need you. Th-there are vampires, and, and new magicks, and I need your help to find a cure for Tara. Please... I, I don’t think I can do this without you” she begged.
Giles lifted her chin to look into Willow’s large, tear-filled eyes. “Willow, listen to me carefully. You are one of the two most impressive young ladies it has ever been my pleasure to know. I know you can do whatever you set your mind to, and I’m not sure what use I would be to you here. You are already far more advanced than I ever was, there is really nothing more for me to teach you. What’s more, I may be able to find you some answers at the Watcher Council’s Central Library.”
“So you have to leave permanently? You couldn’t just go and do the research thing and come back”? she demanded angrily.
Giles shifted uncomfortably, “Willow, it’s just too painful for me to stay here. I need to go home.”
Tears surged out of Willow’s eyes as she turned furiously toward Giles. “Since when is Sunnydale not your home? Since Buffy died? Is that it? Well, there are other people who need you here! And you think you have some kind of monopoly on pain around here? Cause, cause you don’t you know! We all have pain, but we stay and deal...we - we don’t go runnin’ off to the other side of the world! You’re just...” she cut herself off abruptly as she noticed the pained expression on the Watcher’s face. Appalled at herself, she slapped both hands over her mouth.
Finding her voice again, she tried to undue the damage, “Gods, Giles, I’m so sorry. I - I didn’t mean it, really. It’s just that so much has gone so wrong lately. And now your leaving, and you’re more of a father to me than my own father... a - and you probably know me better than both of my parents put together, and I just don’t think I can lose you too, it, its just too much...” Willow babbled on, only partially aware of what she was saying.
“Willow,” Giles interrupted, “you are not losing me, at worst I’ll be just a phone call away. And I will be coming back from time to time. And if an emergency arises, well, I know more than a few sorcerers who owe me favors. A teleportation spell or two are not out of the question.”
Accepting the inevitable, Willow wiped her tears away and nodded her head.
For the first time since she had known him, Giles wrapped his arms around the young witch and hugged her close, feeling more guilty than he ever had in his life.
* * *
Two days later the trio found themselves sitting in traffic on Interstate 10, trying to make their way to The Los Angeles International Airport. From the back seat Willow stared out the right side of the car at the airport’s control tower. Xander was driving while Giles mumbed to himself in annoyance from the passanger seat. Traffic was bad, so the drive here had been agonizingly long, though part of Willow’s mind was busy
calculating ways that she might be able to draw it out for a while longer. She shook her head, trying to expell such thoughts. She tried such purgings on a regular basis, it was
usually a losing battle. As Oz had once told her, it’s always so busy in there.
A GooGoo Dolls song eminated fron the radio’s speakers. Willow recognized it from the City of Angels soundrack, not altogether inaproppriate, she thought, remembering the last time she had made the trip into Los Angeles. Poor Angel, she thought. He was just so... Willow shook her head again, more fiercely this time, cutting off the monologue the threatened to stomp through her brain. That way lies more tears, she chastized herself.
In the front of the small red car Giles glanced at his wrist watch. “I hope this bloody traffic doesn’t make me late”.
“Relax Giles”, Xander relpied. “We’ve got plenty of time. You know you’re gonna miss all this Californiany goodness anyway, so enjoy it while it lasts. Traffic jams, smog, big time monster fighting, decent food. None of those things in the Mother Country!”
“Yes, well, I’m sure I’ll muddle through somehow, the lack of brown air and burritos not withstanding”.
“Yea, who needs actual flavors when you have Shepherd’s Pie?” Xander joked.
“I’ll have you know that it beats the kidney pudding all to hell”, Giles replied jovialy, surprised at his ability to mock his home’s traditional foods. How Americanized he had become!
From the back seat Willow was begining to find the light atmosphere flowing out of the front of the car rather annoying. Giles is leaving.... forever! And those two just sat
there, yucking it up! Shouldn’t they be as miserable about it as she was? It’s not fair, she pouted silently. Definately not feeling like my usual bubbly self today, she thought. Tara
had had a really rough night last night. She seemed to have a series of horrible nightmares that kept her terrified and awake. Of course, a rough night for Tara always meant a rough night for Willow as well. At any rate, Willow was suddenly afraid that her bad mood would bring down her two friends. So snap out of it Rosenburg! she demanded.
It took another hour for the trio to get through the airport and into the terminal. After finding the right gate seat were found to wait for Giles to board his plane. After 45 minutes of small talk, the time Willow was dreading came, herelded by a naselly voice booming over the PA system. “Fight 135 to London, England is now boarding at gate 14.” Willow found a sureal quality to the whole experience that she didn’t particularly enjoy.
Giles, ticket in hand stood and picked up his carry-on bag.
“Well, I guess this is it then,” Xander said while standing. He held out his hand. The hand shake that followed quickly turned into an emotional, “(but very manly as Xander would insist later,) hug.
TO BE CONTINUED?
The Good Fight, Aye?
Edited by: CPS Boy at: 6/12/02 10:43:37 am
