Buffy woke around noon, which she judged by the light streaming in her eyes, by the sound of incessant knocking.
The last thing she remembered was finishing the last application before passing out in a mercifully dreamless sleep.
Grumbling, she slid out of bed, bleary eyed, and stumbled to the door, peering through the peephole.
Willow.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Buffy held her breath, hoping she’d go away.
“Buffy?”
Suppressing a groan, Buffy squared her shoulders. Open the door, she told herself. Slowly, her hand moved to unlock the door and slid the chain.
“Hi,” Willow greeted her with her arms crossed.
Buffy chose to cut to the chase. “How’d you find me?”
Shrugging, the redhead answered, “It was pretty easy. You asked Xander for a ‘shithole motel’ and this being Sunnydale, it’s the only motel. Also, three people are checked in: some French guy, a brunette and you.”
“Sure you aren’t a detective?” Buffy asked sarcastically.
“Funny,” Willow shot back before her face softened. “Why are you staying here?”
“Well, I’m not exactly rolling in money,” Buffy answered with a look.
“You could have stayed with us,” Willow told her.
Sighing, Buffy ran a hand through her hair. “No offense, but we aren’t exactly close. I mean, we went to high school together but that’s, like, it.”
Willow paused, and then proposed, “Then have lunch with me, my treat.”
Buffy studied her intently. “Why are you doing this?”
Averting her gaze slight, Willow admitted, “Spike.”
“Spike?” Buffy repeated questioningly.
Willow nodded. “He told me he saw you yesterday, and said that since you weren’t talking to him, he wanted me to.”
“You and Spike are…friends?” Buffy asked, a little bewildered.
Willow shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t until after high school.” Changing the topic, she gave Buffy a pointed look. “Lunch?”
How could she say no? Suddenly, Buffy found herself curious about this Willow Rosenberg.
“Just let me change.”
*************
No more than a half hour later, Willow and Buffy were seated at modern-looking café, a rarity in Sunnydale.
Buffy was twisting the cloth napkin her lap, feeling underdressed in jeans and a sweater. Her hair was clipped back, the waves tumbling messily. She finally gathered the courage to ask, “How did you…?
“Computer usage issues,” Willow responded, knowing exactly what she was getting at. “He’s technology impaired,” she paused, musing, “Maybe it’s a British thing.”
Buffy frowned. “Huh?”
Willow gave a dismissive wave. “Nothing, just…do you remember Mr. Giles?”
Scrunching her nose, Buffy asked, “The librarian?”
“Yep, he and any technology created in the last twenty years have major issues,” Willow said with a laugh. “He’s also British, and he’s daughter is so sweet.”
“That’s nice,” Buffy replied politely, sipping her water.
“Anyway, Giles and Anya co-own a new store, and it’s been doing pretty well,” the redhead continued, “So what do you do?”
“I’m working at a law firm, secretarial work,” Buffy answered, then mentally corrected herself: was. She had left the law firm behind in New York.
“Are you going to law school?” Willow questioned, genuinely interested.
“I thought about it,” Buffy admitted, “but after college, I wanted to take some time off, and then the timing was never right.” She shrugged.
Willow gave her a sympathetic look. “I know what you mean. It’s like you have all these plans, and then one thing goes kablooey and everything’s different. Not,” she added quickly, “that I don’t love my life or Tara, but sometimes…”
“Sometimes,” Buffy affirmed softly.
Two steaming plates of pasta were set in front of them, and silence settled between the women as they enjoyed their food.
Buffy thought about what Willow had just said about things not going according to plan, and wondered what the redhead was referring to in her own life. Maybe it had something to do with the change in her sexual orientation, she thought. Buffy vaguely remembered Willow dating Oz, a sort-of friend.
“So,” Willow spoke gently after sipping her drink. “Have you seen his—“
“No,” Buffy cut her off quick and sure. “No, I’m just…I don’t think I will right now.” Her gaze fixed itself to her pasta.
Willow reached out ever-so-slightly, her brown eyes warm. “It looks beautiful. Someone planted a rosebush there and—“
“Please,” Buffy told her with a tight voice, a hand in the air. “Stop.”
Biting her lip, Willow stared hard at her. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d like to know…it’s really pretty,” she finished lamely.
“I don’t,” Buffy said firmly. She ate a mouthful of pasta, so she didn’t have to say anything else.
There was another lengthy pause before Willow broke it, smiling a little. “Have I told you about Miss Kitty Fantastico?”
At the sound of the ridiculous name, Buffy let out a burst of sputtering laughter. “No. What’s that?”
Willow grinned. “Our new kitty. She’s absolutely adorable and is a huge fan of catnip. Tara used to have a cat before she left for college, but our apartment for years was pet-free. Finally, we have our own house.”
“Where?” Buffy asked, surprisingly enjoying the lighter conversation.
“Applewood Lane,” Willow answered, wrinkling her nose. “We’re kinda dubious about the name, but the house is perfect. Do you remember Mr. and Mrs. Jensen?”
Recalling the sweet old couple with a generous sweet tooth, Buffy nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Well, they moved to Florida to be closer to their grandkids and gave us first bid on the house.” She lowered her voice, “It still has that old people smell.”
Buffy gave a fleeting smile. “Not exactly pleasant. My fiancé and I stayed—“ she stopped abruptly, recognizing her mistake. “Ex-fiancé,” she corrected, “we stayed at a cabin that was owned by this seriously old guy.”
“Sorry,” Willow said, her brow creased. “About your fiancé, I mean.”
Buffy shrugged it off. “It never would’ve worked anyway.”
Willow grew silent, fiddling with the silver bracelet on her wrist. Finally, she opened her mouth. “Oz and I were engaged,” she began quietly. “It was a month before our wedding and I went to this meeting on campus. It was pretty boring, but I met this girl. Tara.”
Buffy’s lips parted in soundless surprise, listening intently.
“The night before…I realized what Tara meant to me, and I couldn’t go through with the wedding, so I called it off,” she continued, “My parents were furious, my friends were shocked, and Oz…well, I didn’t hear from him until just a couple years ago.”
“I didn’t know,” Buffy said dumbly.
“How would you’ve?” Willow asked honestly.
“Yeah,” Buffy murmured. “Riley, my ex-fiancé, and I kinda came to a mutual decision.” Sort of, she thought.
Willow finished the last of her pasta. “That’s good at least, right?”
Shrugging, Buffy reached for her drink. “I guess.”
Their waitress reappeared and placed the bill on the table. Willow grabbed it, sliding her credit card in. “My treat,” she reminded the blonde.
Buffy held her hands up in mock surrender. “No arguments here,” she said as the waitress returned, taking their plates.
Willow swirled her cup, looking at her. “Maybe we can do this again?”
Tense, Buffy readied herself to decline, but Willow cut her off.
“Don’t say no, okay? I know that at the Bronze it was really awkward, but I mean just me, you and maybe Tara, if you don’t mind,” Willow clarified.
“Maybe,” Buffy allowed, then added, “I’m just not sure how much longer I’m gonna be here anyway.”
Taking her credit card back, Willow shrugged amicably. “Just call, we’re pretty flexible.” As they stood up and walked to the front of the café, she asked, “Do you need a ride? I have an appointment in your area.”
Buffy shook her head no. “I’m gonna head to the store, pick some stuff up. Um, thanks for lunch.”
“No problem,” Willow gave a small smile. “It was nice.” She glanced at her watch, and backed away with a wave. “Call me later before you leave.”
Making a noncommittal response, Buffy waved back. Nice wasn’t quite what it’d been, she thought as she exited the café, veering off in a different direction.
Maybe okay, she conceded, walking at a steady pace. That was a change at least.