Willow didn’t know CJ Cregg terribly well, despite her numerous visits to the White House. Sure, they had exchanged kind words and made polite conversation while in the group setting. They had once discussed the high and low points of Steinbeck’s East of Eden, and had a standing agreement that, as soon as the opportunity presented itself, they’d get together to try to know each other a little better.

Being summoned to the White House Press Secretary’s office in response to her debut in story that was literally hours from being smeared across national headlines was not exactly what the redhead had in mind. And yet, here she was, sipping the coffee that CJ’s assistant, Carol, had thoughtfully provided.

The fact that it was four o’clock in the morning on a Monday and no one had yelled at her also earned points in Willow’s book. And she had to give credit where credit was due; CJ had attacked the knowledge of the photograph with poise and calm reservation, though she did speak an angry piece to Sam, who gallantly accepted blame for everything.

“It’s the Post,” the Press Secretary announced, breezing into the room as though she wasn’t working on an hour and a half of sleep. “A reporter named Jeff Walsh has been tailing you ever since the Talk Radio Show Host event at the midterms. He saw you and Sam acting cozy and got curious.”

“We weren’t—”

“Trust me, there’s friendly protocol and there’s ‘we’re-sleeping-together’ protocol. Evidently, you and Sam both lack the candor to tell one from the other.” CJ collapsed wearily into her seat. “This guy, Jeff Walsh, has done his homework. He knows you’re a student at Georgetown, he knows your name, he knows your age, and he knows that you’ve been seeing Sam ever since you moved to DC. It’s just been a matter of waiting for you two to be somewhere public before he could snap proof and run with the story. And as soon as the nation wakes up, other reports will come in as to how far this runs. I distinctly remember thanking you for something you did in Natchez earlier this year…something I’m still waiting to be briefed on, but considering the circumstances, I’ll say that’s a good thing.” The Press Secretary shook her head. “I informed Leo McGarry the minute we knew who has the story. Toby’s going to work on some language and the White House will issue an official statement sometime this morning.” She paused. “Willow, we’re standing behind you on this. This looks bad for us—bad for the President—but we’re standing behind you.” Another beat. “I say that, because you look like you’re about to pass out.”

That was appropriate. She felt like it, too. “I…I just thought…you were…I dunno, I thought—”

“That I was going to tell you that you can’t see Sam anymore?”

She nodded pitifully.

CJ offered a wane, half-serious, half-jesting smile. “We’ve tried that before. Josh and Toby were very clear that he couldn’t see Laurie after he discovered she was a hooker, but that didn’t do much to stop him. The fact that he’s in love with you leads me to believe he’d sooner resign, which we obviously can’t have because he’s one of the best damn writers in the country. Plus the President likes you tremendously, as does everyone here that knows you. I even managed to get a word or two of support from Toby when I woke him to break the happy news.”

Willow smiled slightly at that.

“Here’s what we’re running on,” CJ continued. “Sam hasn’t broken a law; neither have you. You’re two consenting adults who have a very stable, very mature relationship despite your age difference. And we’re not going to be at all subtle with the knowledge that there are plenty of Republican senators that keep mistresses stashed in the closet while preaching the virtues of family values. That’ll help, but it’ll ultimately look weak and defensive, despite being rational. Republicans argue with the politics God on their side. This just looks bad…and the country likes focusing on what looks bad rather than listening to, well, the truth.”

“You’re not…I thought you’d be angry…”

CJ shrugged. “No sense being angry,” she reasoned. “Was what you did stupid? Absolutely. But I got him out of it once and I can do it again.”

“It’s not so simple this time,” Willow said. “Sam and I…we’re actually together. He wasn’t really with the…with Laurie before.”

“And you thought that made it simple?” She smiled. “The next few weeks aren’t going to be very fun for you. You’re going to have reporters hounding you on campus, your phone will ring off the hook with very appealing offers for personal interviews, and Barbara Walters might even decide to take an interest in what you have to say. You understand that if you say a word that’s not authorized by the White House, there will be no more—”

“I’d never!”

“I don’t think you would,” the Press Secretary agreed. “But at the same time, I know how money to someone who needs it could be a very persuasive motivator.”

“I swear, I’d never—”

“Again, I don’t think you would. But Willow, you have to understand the situation you’ve put us in. We’re not going to take chances with anything.” CJ released a long breath. “I’m advising you to contact your friends back in Sunnydale and let them know as soon as possible. If the press can’t get to you, there’s every chance they’ll try to—”

“Buffy wouldn’t say a word, I swear.”

The older woman held up a hand, her patience clearly tested. “And again, I’m not saying she would. But there are people who know you that don’t consider you a friend, right? I’m sorry if I don’t believe that everyone in the world is nice enough to keep their mouths shut when six figure salaries are on the table. We’re talking the kids you didn’t get along with in school. The guy you turned down for prom. The jaded ex-boyfriend who decides to go on Montell and give a fictionalized tell-all. I know it’s hard to believe, but not everyone who’s ever met you is going to pass up the opportunity to exploit, exaggerate, or invent details of your personal life that you would just as soon take to the grave. It’s a good idea to have people, like your friend Buffy, and whoever else you know, ready to counter the allegations that come streaming out of this.”

That effectively shut out whatever retort was ready on her lips. CJ waited a minute and nodded. “Yeah,” she said conclusively. “Okay. Well, I would recommend that you go to Sam’s. Don’t go to class unless you know you have an exam or something that can’t be pushed back until later.”

“Don’t go to class?”

“Well, I’m not saying never, but…” She sighed. “This is going to get bad for you, and consequentially, the routine you’re accustomed to might be subject to radical change. We can’t have the press using you as an excuse to get close to Zoey Bartlet.”

“You want me to drop out of—”

“No, that’s not what we want at all.”

“But—”

The Press Secretary’s eyes narrowed. “Willow, we weren’t exactly prepared for this, okay? I’m doing absolutely everything in my power to keep you from the line of fire, but you screwed up. Okay? You and Sam screwed up, and I can guarantee you that the President’s going to be a lot less amicable about it once the Times runs an expose on his daughter’s less-conventional extra curricular activities, especially considering she was shot at just a few months ago. If you absolutely insist, go to class, but I know these people. I know what to expect. You don’t. And unless the President comes out with a decree that the press keeps away from his staff members’ girlfriends as well as his daughters, your private life is not going to be as private as it was yesterday. You need to call your friends. We’re going to try for preemptive and hope that people watch the news before they read the newspaper. We’ll put the best spin on this that we can, but pretending that your life hasn’t just changed is going to do much more damage than good.”

Willow heaved a long sigh and slumped back in her seat, her mind overwhelmed with a barrage of incomplete assignments that she was now expected to ignore. Never in her life had she been told to not attend school. Only a few times in high school had she missed class; she vividly remembered a heated argument the morning her mother had forbidden her to get on the bus because of her hundred and three degree temperature.

Without school, she was nothing. Buffy excelled in slaying, Xander was Mister Fix-It, Giles had his books, Anya had her money and sex, and Spike had Buffy, which was really all he needed. Willow had school. School and magic, which some would argue were two different things, but for her, symbolized a similar quest for knowledge.

The American public had a right to know many things, but her study habits definitely did not make the list.

“Yeah, okay,” she heard herself say, fighting to keep from cringing.

CJ smiled, moving to stand. “Good,” she replied. “It’ll be okay. The sooner we get this behind us, the sooner you can get back to your life. Understand, while there will be some nosy reporters that follow you around after all of this is over, people will stop caring when the next scandal hits the front page.”

Willow nodded, standing as well. “Is there anything I should do? Do you…if I said something, would it—”

“No. No, we want to keep as much distance between you and the press as possible. If it gets to the point when a statement from you directly is absolutely essential, Toby and Sam will craft the language to make sure you don’t accidentally step all over yourself…which, really, not so hard to do when cameras are shoved in your face.”

She could understand that.

“Okay. So…and I should…you really think I should go to Sam’s?”

“Right now, it’s the only place where you’ll be guaranteed privacy. We can’t have you here, and it’d be too easy to get caught on campus.” CJ nodded. “Call your friends, lock the doors, take the phone off the hook, and take a nap. I’d go now before the city wakes up.”

That sounded more than logical. Willow released a long sigh. Despite the Press Secretary’s reassurance, dread pooled her insides. Oh, to have the power to rewind days. To go back and fix this before the circus—to impede the hell she was sure would envelope her world for the next few weeks.

It had only been a matter of time. She and Sam had both known that they could not get away with their relationship without it becoming a colossal explosion of a thing.

She just hadn’t been prepared for this. What it was. What it meant.

How it would force her into change.

*~*~*

The room was aflame with the flash of cameras, clicking through the sea of voices that shouted her name in a fury of imperfect unison.

“CJ!”

“Katie,” the Press Secretary acknowledged.

“Is there any speculation of a connection between Willow Rosenberg and the story involving Sam Seaborn and the call girl last year?”

“Yes, Katie, that was our test run. We wanted to know how best to prepare the country for the revelation that many people on our staff have personal lives. Steve!”

“What kind of message is this sending? An older man, a girl who hasn’t graduated from college. Is the White House concerned with a retaliation of decency laws from the Right?”

“The White House is in no way ignorant to the spin the Right might put on the President’s culinary choices, much less yet another issue that happens to be no one’s business. So yes, we do expect some radical form of outlandish attack on their part. And let me just take a minute to remind everyone that neither Sam Seaborn nor Willow Rosenberg have broken a law. She is a younger woman, yes, but she is an adult. I’d also like to remind America that it was not our administration that made eighteen the age of legal adulthood, and that her relationship with the Deputy Communications Director, while unconventional, is hardly grounds for indictment. Danny!”

Danny Concanon was the one to worry about. CJ knew this. But she also knew that of everyone in the room, Danny was the one she could trust. In his odd, quirky little way, even when it put her on the hot spot, he was a comforting face in the midst of fire.

“CJ, a few months ago, you released a press statement that thanked, among others, Willow Rosenberg for actions in Natchez, Mississippi that the White House has never disclosed. Is there any way—”

“That the Willow Rosenberg in that statement and the one you’re all bothering me about now are one in the same?”

“I figured it for a long shot since the name’s so common, but it never hurts to ask.”

The room chuckled appropriately.

CJ expelled a sigh. She’d known this question was coming; that didn’t mean she was prepared for the connotations. “Yes,” she said. “Willow Rosenberg was named by the White House, among others, in thanks for her actions in Natchez. Her relationship with Sam Seaborn began in Natchez and, as everyone now knows, led her to transfer to Georgetown.”

“So,” Danny continued, “it’s safe to conclude that Mr. Seaborn’s actions in Natchez were not policy related. Were Toby Ziegler, Josh Lyman, and Sam Seaborn taking a two week paid vacation?”

“What happened in Natchez was and is a matter of national security that the staffers you just mentioned were unfortunate enough to get caught in the middle of; nothing more. Sam and Willow’s relationship isn’t some grand conspiracy. It’s boy meets girl—end of story.”

“The White House has neglected to issue a formal statement on what occurred in Natchez, and has been increasingly secretive when the matter is mentioned. Can we expect some answers soon?”

“You can expect what we give you.” Her tone was clipped. Solid. The sort of tone that let the reporters know that follow-up questions on that particular venue would be dealt with in a similarly exclusive manner. She couldn’t afford to comment on something the White House had been keeping so quiet that even she didn’t have all the facts. “Mark!”

“What is the White House’s position on allegations that staffers should be held to a higher standard, and that Mr. Seaborn’s relationship is grounds for terminating his position as senior counsel to the President?”

“That senior staffers should and are held to a higher standard, which is why Sam is going to stand by the woman he loves rather than abandon her to the wolves over an issue that is, quite frankly, no one’s business.” CJ glanced down and shuffled her notes. “There will be a photo-op in the Mural Room in a half hour with President Bartlet and the Majority Leader over the recent agreement on the minimum wage legislation, but I don’t imagine that’s a story America’s too terribly interested in right now. That’s a lid. I’ll keep you posted throughout the day.”

*~*~*

“I don’t think I tell CJ often enough just how good she is,” Sam told Toby. They were seated in the latter’s office, tossing a bouncy ball back and forth as the Press Secretary effectively shut down round of questioning. “Because she’s good.”

“Yeah,” Toby agreed, squeezing the ball tightly. “Just don’t do anything to make this worse.”

“Like what?”

The Communications Director tossed him a pointed look.

“Okay. I’ll just keep my mouth shut.”

“Good thing.”

*~*~*

Despite everything that was going wrong today, the President seemed to be in a relatively good mood, which had Leo McGarry counting his blessings. The last thing he needed today was a fussy Jed Bartlet to tend with.

“It was called dwarf wheat,” the President was saying as they made their way back to the Oval Office from their last meeting with the Joint Chiefs, “which produces heavy yields without its stalk falling over from the weight of the rain.”

“Was it a hybrid?”

The President tossed him a look. “What am I, Farmer Bob? It was wheat, and there was more than there used to be.”

“Okay.”

“And hire that girl.”

“What girl?”

“Ainsley Hayes.”

Oh no. He was still on that. Sometime during the morning, the President had gotten the grand idea that hiring Ainsley Hayes was the move the White House needed to make. And not just because it would be a good joke on Sam; it was a thing he seemed to be semi-serious about.

A notion Leo was intent to kill before he left the Oval.

“No.”

The President removed his glasses. “Why?”

“’Cause this is one of those things you’re excited about after breakfast that you forget you told me to do before lunch.”

“Not one of those things,” the President replied, waggling a finger at him.

“It’s one of those.”

“Leo, as hard as you might try, the Republican Party isn't going anywhere.”

“You don't know that for sure, sir, they could all end up moving to Vancouver.”

Bartlet gave him a look. “I don’t think so.”

“Me neither,” Leo agreed, “but being in power means everybody else can take a seat for four years. Besides, it could look like a thing to make peace with the Right while Sam’s under attack for his relationship with Willow.”

“Heaven forbid I do something to help one of my own,” the President retorted, waving Charlie inside. His personal aide was bringing him a cup of coffee that was sorely needed. “Charlie, I want to hire a woman whose voice I think would fit in nicely around here. She's a conservative Republican. Do you think I should do it?”

A pause. “Absolutely, Mr. President. ‘Cause I'm told that theirs is the party of inclusion.”

The President paused and glared as the young man moved away.

The Chief of Staff gestured demonstratively. “See? Charlie just made a joke to you in the Oval Office. That's how bad an idea it is.”

“Leo—”

“Seriously, Mr. President, if you want to do this, it's not an uninteresting notion, let's just do it in a more high-profile place. Put a Republican in the cabinet.”

“We might do that, Leo. A hundred million Republicans; we might hire as many as two of them. But for now, hire this girl.”

“To do what?”

Bartlet shrugged. “I don't know. She's a lawyer. Put her in the counsel's office.”

A sigh. Talking him down was evidently a pipe dream. “You really want me to do this?”

“Yes.”

“What if she doesn't want to work here?”

“Appeal to her sense of duty. And smooth it over with the staff. Really, I don't want to hear from them.”

“It is going to look like you’re hiring her for Sam. After all, she’s the one—”

“I don’t care how it looks. She’s a smart political mind and I want her on my payroll. Make it happen.”

Leo shrugged. “She can always have my job, you know.”

“Yes, she can.”

“Thank you, Mr. President.”

“Thank you.”

The Chief of Staff turned to leave, exiting the door that led directly from the Oval and to his office.

“Charlie,” the President said.

“Yes, sir.”

“When they close the book on me and you, it will say that, at this moment, you were not there for me, and for that, obviously, there'll be some kind of punishment.”

Charlie grinned. “Well, you could sing Puccini for me again, Mr. President. We'll call it even.”

*~*~*

Willow was curled on Sam’s sofa, her eyes glued to the television. For the past two hours, she had been unable to move or even shift her eyes from the stories pouring on screen. The allegations. The name-calling. It hadn’t taken long, as CJ had predicted. There were already House Republicans dragging her name through the mud, and it was only the first day.

It had happened. Sam’s job was on the line, and it was all her fault.

“He’s not going to fire me, you know.”

The redhead started and glanced up. Sam was there. She hadn’t even heard him come in, but he was there. And he was looking at her with shades of worry and love, tension and more stress than she could imagine. But he was with her, and for the minute, that was all that mattered.

“The President?” Willow asked hoarsely.

“He won’t fire me. They’re all saying he will,” he said, gesturing to the television. “They’re saying he doesn’t have a choice now, because of what happened with Laurie. That I obviously can’t keep my pants up and I’m a dangerous asset to Senior Counsel, but the President won’t…he won’t fire me.” A sigh rolled off his shoulders. “That won’t stop me from resigning.”

Oh God.

“Sam!”

“It’s the responsible thing to do, Willow. I just redrafted my letter of resignation that I wrote when the thing with Laurie happened. Now it’s just a matter of—”

“You can’t resign. We’ve done nothing wrong!”

“I’m not going to be responsible for the downfall of this administration with something so…I refuse to. The President’s a good man, and he doesn’t need his staff mucking up the important issues because they…” Sam released a long, pained breath, and shook his head. “I won’t do it.”

“If it’s…let me leave. I’ll go back to Sunnydale. I’ll…I’ll disappear. You won’t—”

He stared at her as though she had started speaking Japanese. “You’re leaving?”

“Well, I’m not going to stand by and…and…” Her eyes welled with tears. “I won’t be the reason you’re not working for the President, Sam. You love what you do.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, but I think that this is more important right now. What you do is so…it’s much more than I am.”

“No.”

“Sam—”

“It was my idea. Going out last night was my idea. You tried to talk me out of it, but my head was hot and I got us into this. Resigning is—”

“The last thing you want.”

“No, the last thing I want is for you to walk out that door.” A heavy pause filled the air. Sam cast out a deep sigh and glanced down. “The second to last thing I want is to resign. But you can’t expect me to tell you that I find you less important than my job. Jobs come and go. You don’t.”

“I’ll still be here…I’ll just not be here as much as in Sunnydale. We could do what we were talking about doing before I transferred.” She shook her head. “I can’t go back to Georgetown. My roommate sold our phone number and my class schedule to the Post. People have been trying to call me here all day. I can’t…if you resign, then—”

“Move in with me.”

She fell silent, certain she had heard wrong.

“What?”

“If you can’t go back to school, move in with me. We’ll wait it out. Eventually, people will lose interest and move onto the next thing, but you won’t have to worry about on-campus harassment if you’re not on campus. Wait it out a bit, and then go back.” He shrugged, offering a weak, pleading smile. “Just…please…don’t leave.”

A flicker of hope sparked her despair.

“Really?”

“Of course,” Sam replied hoarsely, stepping forward. It was disconcerting to see him trembling as hard as he was, but it brought her into the light of just how serious his feelings were for her. Until now—until this moment—the lines between love and love had been too muddy to sort. Now they weren’t. And Willow felt herself flood with something she had always thought herself incapable of—an emotion so rich she hadn’t the courage to name it.

“And…you won’t resign?”

A small smile crossed his lips. “I won’t resign. It’s going to get worse before it gets better, but I won’t resign.” He paused. “If it gets too hard for you, though…if you ever…just let me know.”

“I won’t ever ask you to leave your job.”

“Then I suppose I’ll just have to perfect the art of reading body language.”

They were just inches a part now. Buried in comfort that had seemed nonexistent just minutes ago. New relief poured through the richness of disaster. They would make it through this. It would be hard, but they would make it through.

Willow smiled against his mouth. “You’re pretty good at that already,” she said, then lost herself in his kiss.

Let the world chase them down. She wasn’t losing him without a fight.

She just wished the enemy were in the shape of a demon. Those were always easier to kill than the shady morals of a twisted Republic.

TBC