“You know what I don’t understand,” Josh said, drawing the attention of the small semi-circle that was situated in a nook of the Eola Hotel lobby. He turned to Donna, unblinking when she rolled her eyes in droll expectation of his criticism. “With everything you’ve seen, with an ancient Roman god gaining power and Slayers running a quiet muck, how you can insist on researching the ghost cat.”

“The same way you can continuously ignore the cat’s validity.”

“Opening the door for one demon doesn’t make them all real, Donna. I don’t remember Giles saying anything about a ghost cat.”

There was a low grumble from the opposing arch. “For God’s sake,” Toby snapped. “With everything that’s going on, the fact that both of you are focused on a stupid cat that has nothing to do with anything is a good excuse why half the country doesn’t trust the US government.”

Willow shifted from where she was partially reclined against Sam. Their recent even-closer closeness had raised a few eyebrows, and while the explanation that they needed to read out of the same book was somewhat logical, no one truly accepted that as an excuse. It wasn’t as though there was a mass objection to their relationship—it was just somewhat annoying to watch them be so obvious without coming clean.

Or so Josh had observed, only to be interrupted by a series of coughs.

“I’d say taxes,” the redhead volunteered with a sheepish smile, “but cats are a reasonable scapegoat.”

“Now that’s original,” the Communications Director retorted. “Imagine a citizen complaining about an institution that betters the country.”

Sam straightened reasonably. “She just said the taxes are high, Toby; she didn’t propose Communism.”

“I-I don’t think the taxes are too high,” Willow argued, befuddled. “I just…with the ghost cat and…” She glanced at her seating companion weakly. “Help?”

Donna scowled and whacked Josh upside the head. “See what you did.”

“Me? It was you.”

“You brought up the thing.”

“There wouldn’t be a thing to bring up if you wouldn’t stop with the cat.”

“She wasn’t talking about the fucking cat, Josh!” Toby looked ready to kill someone. “She was making a comment about that whatchamacallit that Spike thinks he saw the other night. She said nothing about a cat.”

There was a long pause. “I think I liked you better when you were a hermit,” the Deputy Chief of Staff remarked. “Why aren’t you helping Giles and Wes with the thing?”

“Because I’m not.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Have you talked to Leo today?” he asked Josh.

“Yes. For all the good it’s done, yes.”

“Still nothing?”

“A big nothing.”

Willow shrugged helplessly and offered a weak consolatory smile. “At least it’s a big nothing, right?”

Donna flashed the redhead a grateful glance.

Josh just looked at her for a long minute before shaking his head and abandoning the topic completely. “Is Xander with Giles?” he asked.

“I think Anya made him go with,” the Witch agreed. “She’s done nothing but complain about how she’s not getting paid for all the demon resourciness she’s done over the past few days…for all the good it’s done.”

The blonde nodded. “Why is it taking so long?”

“Because the text is difficult to translate in one language; let alone three that are all with the mixy to make a brand new language.” She sighed. “Giles knows Latin and a little Greek—Wes knows Greek, I think. And between them, they know Assyrian. And they’re old…so they like…old stuff.” She cleared her throat when that observation earned a series of pointed glares, particularly from the man who was currently acting as her body pillow. “But this text is beyond old. It’s something that would fall under Giles’s least favorite category of ‘predates history.’ Not even Anya knows it…but what little she knows has us much further ahead than we would’ve been otherwise.”

“How does something predate history?” Josh demanded. “History doesn’t stop. We’re history, right now. What we’re doing is history. As long as there have been people, there has been history. So this book that Buffy and Spike took from that house is something that predates ‘Let there be light’? How in God’s name does that work? Who the hell wrote it?”

Willow shrugged sheepishly. “I really don’t know,” she said. “I follow what Giles does as close as I can, but there is so much that I still don’t know. I always just took that at face value…that it predated the era in which history started getting written. And since this book specializes on the god Quirinias, I’m thinking either he had a hand in writing it, or his followers…more likely his followers. And that’s what makes it so tricky. He was originally a Sabine god; it wasn’t until a few centuries later that the Romans adapted him. The breaks in the language are almost impossible to follow because it was written during, between, and after that time period. So when he was still a Sabine god, predominantly, you don’t have a lot of Latin, and it’s just Assyrian and Greek. A whole different form of translation. When it is during and after the time that the Romans adapted him, you’re back to throwing Latin in the mix.”

“If Quirinias was a Sabine god, then why is it in—”

Willow shrugged again. “Spite?”

“So if it’s as impossible as you’re making it sound,” Josh said slowly, “then why the hell do we think we’re gonna be able to crack down on this terrible thing that Sam started before it happens?”

“Did you have to throw in the ‘Sam’ part?” Sam demanded.

“Yes. This is your fault.”

The redhead frowned defensively. “Hey! He didn’t know!”

“So you go reading aloud from all strange books you come across?”

Toby stared at Josh wryly. “He’s Sam,” he said. “You’ve known him longer than I have.”

“Again, hermit.”

Donna threw her head back and moaned, slamming her book shut. “Ugh. Josh, you need to be in a zoo.”

Sam cracked a weak smile. “‘Don’t feed the Lyman.’”

“I do not belong in a zoo.”

The blonde shook her head stubbornly. “Some zoo time would be very good for you.”

“I don’t see how you all have accepted everything that’s happened at face value,” he grumbled. “She just told us that we’re basically depending on a long shot from two British wizards who are supposed to know what they’re doing while the girl who’s a Slayer and the vampire are always off alone together and the other Slayer hasn’t been seen since…” He trailed off abruptly and tossed his friend an apologetic look. “Hasn’t been seen in a while.”

“‘Don’t feed the Lyman,’” Sam said again, shrugging the mention off with a shudder but pulling the redhead closer at the same time. “It’s fine.”

“Buffy’s not the researchy type,” Willow argued defensively. “And hey. If we’re expecting her to save the world, we shouldn’t be with the judgy. A-and Spike doesn’t know Assyrian, which is really all he could do to help. So…there.”

“Besides,” Donna added, “you’re the one that disappeared and got drunk with Spike down at some shack Under The Hill.”

“That place was perfectly respectful.”

“You passed out under the counter.”

“It looked like a good place to pass out.”

“And I’m the one that gets the call at two in the morning from a very drunk vampire because my cell was the only number he could find in your wallet.”

Josh’s eyes widened. “He went through my wallet?! I was wondering why I was forty dollars short this morning.”

The redhead frowned. “It was probably an accident,” she said. “Well, it might’ve been. I don’t know how good he’s trying to be for Buffy, so it might’ve been just that he saw money and his Ego said, ‘take.’”

Sam and Josh exchanged a glance. “He’s trying to be good for Buffy,” the former said. “Very good. I don’t know if that includes petty theft or not.”

“I’m saying not,” the Deputy Chief of Staff replied. “Else I wouldn’t be missing two twenties.”

“Don’t have to bring that up again.” Willow pouted. “Still say, hello! Best friend, here. He should’ve called me.”

Josh’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “She was pretty strong. I don’t know if you coulda handled her.”

“This coming from all the handling of her that you did?” Sam retorted.

If anything, that made the redhead angrier. Who knows what sort of drunken wiles her friend might have put the poor man under. After all, Buffy had a thing for hot older men with dark hair…or she had until recent, anyway. “You made Sam do the handling?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” Donna advised. “Josh is just a big girl.”

“Hey!”

“But…” Willow scowled. “He made Sam do the handling of drunk and gropey Buffy? With the…with what happened and…what happened? Gah.”

“She was gropey?” Josh’s eyes widened and he turned to Sam. “I don’t remember her being gropey. Right. Next time, I’ll handle the attractive, drunk, gropey blondes.”

Toby blinked slowly. “What?”

“She wasn’t gropey.” Sam frowned defensively. “At least not with me. I think the only victim of any serious groping was Spike.”

Some of the tension vacated Willow’s eyes, and she nodded and sat back. “Oh, okay,” she said. “It’s okay, then. I guess.” She made a face. “I still don’t know how I feel about that in general, but I think it’s safe to say that Spike probably won’t care what Buffy does to him in the long run as long as it’s…void of stakeage.” She released a long breath and tossed Toby an apologetic glance. “Sorry. You’re kinda outta the loop. We can try and bring you up to speed if you like.”

He looked at her. “I cannot stress how much I do not care,” he said after a long minute.

“Oh. Okay, then.”

“Still say you couldn’t have handled her,” Josh reiterated. “It was a job for men. It was a manly job.”

Willow and Donna’s eyes narrowed simultaneously. “Oh please,” they said in unison.

“You’re such a girl,” the former accused again, thwacking her boss’s leg with her book.

“And hello. Magicks, anyone? I have magic. I could’ve…you know…magicked her off Spike.”

Josh took a minute to scowl at his impervious assistant before turning back to the redhead. “You know, Willow,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually do any of that so-called magic stuff. Taking a lot on faith, here.”

Sam whimpered at the mention of Faith. Willow glared at Josh and patted her practically-boyfriend’s knee in reassurance. Then, out of nothing but spite, she waved her hand in his direction and grumbled, “Cado,” as though the Deputy Chief of Staff for the President of the United States was not worth anything more than an afterthought.

There was a squeal as Josh’s chair fell back—a shrill, undoubtedly girlish squeal that had Donna, Sam, and Toby in stitches. Willow beamed proudly and made an unsuccessful attempt at stifling a giggle. For the man himself, there was nothing to do but sputter indignantly and climb to his feet.

“An accident,” he grumbled. “Chairs don’t like me.”

Willow raised her hand again, repeated the word, and the seat fell back once more—this time graciously void of an occupant.

Josh stared at the turned-over chair for a long moment, then glanced slowly to the redhead responsible. “I know what you are,” he said decisively. “You’re the Wicked Witch of the West.”

She scoffed crossly. “I am not!”

“She is not!” Sam yelped. Donna’s protest soon followed.

“Oh no? She’s wicked, she’s a witch, and she’s from California. She’s the Wicked Witch of the West, theme music and all.” And then, as if to solidify his acclamation, Josh started whistling said theme music.

Donna rolled her eyes. “Ignore him,” she advised. “He’s just upset because now everyone knows he’s a girl.”

“I’m honestly surprised it took this long for people to notice,” Toby added drolly.

“Hey!” Josh frowned. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“So now chaos has rules? Nice to know. Anyway…” The man shifted and closed the book he had not so much as blinked at since sitting down. “Seeing as we’re getting so much work done, I’m going upstairs and sit at the grown-ups table for a while. Maybe they’ve done something worthwhile in the past two hours.”

Donna nodded and followed suit. “I’ll come with you.”

“Me, too,” Josh added.

Toby just stared at them. “You do realize that this negates the objective of trying to get away from you, right?”

The two looked back at him blankly, then at the ground, to each other, and back again. Donna offered nothing but a shrug; Josh a wide grin and a broad gesture. “Lead the way,” he said.

The blonde turned back to Sam and Willow, who had not made a motion to move. “Are you two coming?”

“If you throw them in,” Toby said, “I’ll stay here and you four can go upstairs.”

Willow shook her head. “I’m staying here. There’s a binding spell I wanna look into. See if I can get actual ingredients that aren’t makeshift and therefore ineffective to try on Faith when we see her again.”

There was a long silence before Sam realized that they were waiting for his answer, though as his arms and lap were busy cradling a good part of the redhead that had no intent on moving. He offered a sheepish smile, though, and shrugged. “I’m going to stay here,” he said. “And…look at spells, too.”

The Witch bit back a grin.

“That’s all we need the press to find out,” Josh said as the three started heading in the direction of the elevators. “The President’s Deputy Communications Director has been studying witchcraft.” He paused and whistled good-naturedly. “God, Sam, that’s one bio you’re building for yourself. Prostitutes, convicts, and witchcraft. Danny’d have a field day with that.”

Sam smirked but reddened all the same, rubbing Willow’s back in reassurance. “She’s not a prostitute,” he corrected. “She is a call girl.”

There was a snicker and a muffled retort, but nothing more flagrant than the inquiry reflecting from a pair of chestnut eyes. The same eyes that belonged to a girl he feared he was falling in love with. “I accidentally slept with a call girl,” he said.

“So I’ve heard.”

His gaze widened in alarm. “You’ve heard? Oh God, from where? When I find the little creep that leaked—”

“Sam.” She grinned. “You’ve mentioned it at least twice. That’s how I know.”

He seemed to seriously contemplate this for a minute. “I’ve mentioned it?”

“Yes.”

“Around you?”

She nodded. “Around me.”

That was it. Sam’s face fell, completely bereft. “Well,” he said. “This is bad on so many levels.”

“Sam…do you wanna tell me about the prostitute? It’s okay. Mum’s the word.” She zipped her mouth demonstratively. “I won’t tell a soul…o-or even a non-soul. Cross my heart.”

“She’s a call girl,” he corrected mechanically. “And I trust you, Willow. You know that.”

“You do? I do?”

He blinked, looking despondent all over again. “You don’t know that I trust you?”

“Well…I thought you did. I mean, I’ve thought you did. I haven’t actually sat down and thought this out, but I assumed…I just didn’t know for sure, you know?” Willow sat up, placing her book aside. “You’ve done nothing to make me think that you don’t trust me…unless this conversation makes you not trust me, and then it’s a thing and—”

“Willow.”

“Yeah?”

Sam silenced her with a kiss that had her melting in seconds and ended far too quickly. “I trust you.”

“Oh,” she said, blinking. Her lips tingled. “Okay.”

“I think I should tell you about Laurie.”

“Okay,” she echoed. Then blinked and straightened. “Who’s Laurie?”

“The call girl. And I need to tell you about Mallory, too.”

“Two call girls?”

His eyes about boggled out of his head. “What? No! No, Laurie’s the only call girl. And that was a mistake. A complete mistake. Well, I’m glad I know her and I wouldn’t trade our friendship for anything…not that there’s been any more sex, because there hasn’t. It was just the one night and it was an accident. In fact, it was—”

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“I trust you. Can you get on with it? Who’s Mallory?”

A sigh coursed through his system and he relaxed. “I’ve mentioned my boss’s daughter, right?” She nodded. “That’s Mallory. She and I kind of had a thing.”

Her heart fell. “You’re dating your boss’s daughter?”

“No. No!” He held up a hand for clarification. “I am not dating Mallory. We’re not a thing. We were on the way to becoming a thing, and we might’ve been a thing, but then we left for Vicksburg and ended up here and I met you and I like you and I don’t want to date Mallory anymore…not that she’s forgettable or anything, it’s just she’s not Willow and I want to date Willow…and since you’re Willow, that means I want to date you.”

“You do?”

He looked at her for a long minute. “I said I wanted us to be a thing, right? Or was that a conversation that I was thinking about having?”

“No. We’ve definitely established our thing-ness.” She blushed prettily and glanced down. “B-but…say Buffy saves the world, which she will do, because she’s Buffy and that’s sort’ve her job…you’re going back to DC and I go back to Sunnydale and it’s kinda hard to be a thing if we’re an entire country apart. And you’re a good looking guy and I’m sure this Mallory isn’t exactly hard on the eyes…” She looked up at him slowly, daring him to lie to her.

He did not disappoint, though. Rather, Sam nodded honestly. “She’s a cute redhead,” he said. Then smiled. “Seems I have a thing for redheads.”

“But I’m cuter, right?”

“She couldn’t hold a candle to you.”

Willow’s flush deepened. It was a line. She might not have had the experience that other girls did, but she knew lines when she heard them. And yet, sitting here with Sam, she had the funny feeling that he meant it. “Well, regardless,” she continued. “What happens when Buffy saves the world and we all go home? I’m just a freshman in college and you’re all with the career and the future. Not to mention…” She gestured to herself. “Witch. So add in witch and young and politics and you have yourself a scandal. What’s going to happen?”

“My life’s my life. The public has no right to know.”

“The public has this tendency to decide what they have a right to know by themselves.”

“Now you sound like Josh.”

Willow shrugged. “Josh is a pretty smart guy.”

“Whatever. I’m willing to gamble it.”

“Your career? Sam, we don’t know each other that well. I mean, I know you and I really like you but…we don’t know how or if this would work, long-term. Long-distance.” She shrugged again helplessly. “I don’t know if I’m even ready for that type of relationship.”

At that, he looked wounded. “You don’t want us to be a thing?”

“Oh, no. I do. I really do. I just…with the hurt and the heartache and I don’t wanna get into this so far that I go through what I went through when Oz left. Because you…that’d kill me.” She shook her head. “The last thing I wanted was to feel this way again. And so soon. It’s so soon.”

“Am I the rebound guy?”

“No, and that’s what scares me. That plus age, politics, and distance. What’s going to happen?”

“The age thing bothers you?”

“No. Not me. But it would others. Many others. You know, the sort of others that vote every four years, even though they should vote every two, but that’s an entirely different thing.” She heaved a deep sigh. “I don’t want to hurt you politically. And if our being a thing makes it difficult for the President to get reelected, I’d never forgive myself.”

Sam laughed shortly. “I really don’t think that would effect the election, Willow—”

“Oh? Then why was there a thing with Leo and the drugs? And Josh pissing off the Religious Right not too long ago? Not to mention your wigging about people finding out about the prostitute—” She stopped herself. “—call girl. People said your friends should quit because it’d hurt the administration. If that’s enough to make people not like the President, then why do you think they’d overlook your dating a witch that’s just barely legal?” She held up a hand. “A-and was involved in blowing up her high school? And was in Natchez with you?” A long, tormented sigh hissed through her lips. “I just don’t see how this is going to work.”

“Willow, there’s something you’ve overlooked.” He took her hands in his and waited until he had her eyes before continuing. “Leo was wrong in his addiction to Valium and alcohol. I love the man like a father, but he was wrong. Josh was wrong to piss off the Religious Right. And accident or not, I was wrong to sleep with Laurie. I’m not the type of man that sleeps with a woman on a first date. Or picks them up in bars, for that matter. I’m not a whore.” He bit off a grimace and flashed her an apologetic glance. “That didn’t come out like it should, but you understand, right?” She smiled a bit and nodded. “Good. My point is, dating you isn’t wrong. I’m not in the wrong here. Yes, you’re young, but do you have any idea how many trophy wives I see in my line of work? And there are men who pay women like Laurie to go to with them to certain functions, which really makes me angry because she’s above it and really needs to rethink her occupation, especially since it’s against the law and—”

“Sam.”

“Trophy wives,” he said, coming back to his original train of thought. “And quite frankly, I’d rather have an open, honest relationship with you than do what a lot Republicans do and keep mistresses stashed in the closet while preaching on morals and family values.”

“Sam?”

“Okay, so Democrats do it, too. But not while talking about morals and family values. We can be hypocrites, but not quite as blatant and as stunningly so as Republicans.” He grumbled something under his breath. “I just wish they weren’t so good at it.”

“I think it’s the asking the country for forgiveness when caught—you know, running mascara, pleas and sobs for prayers? Yeah.” Willow stopped and closed her eyes. “Sam. I want this to be a thing. I do. You just have to understand where I’m coming from.”

“I have a lot of benefits with my job,” he said. “I’d be able to fly out to California a lot. See you.”

“Is that a good idea? What if the press got a hold—”

He shook his head. “Willow, we’ll figure something out. I’m not going to throw in the rag on us yet. I like you too much for that.”

That was it. The blush was back. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I like you too much for that, too.”

“We’ll figure something out,” he said again, shoulders slumping. “And hey! Look at the bright side. Maybe Buffy won’t stop the apocalypse and we won’t have to worry about what the public thinks at all.”

Willow licked her lips, perked a brow, then waited calmly for him to realize what exactly he had said.

It didn’t take long. “That’s not much of a bright side, is it?”

“No,” she agreed. “Not much of one at all.” A gentle smile touched her mouth, and she threw caution to the wind and kissed him thoroughly. “But thanks for the thought.”

Sam smiled back and wrapped an arm around her, drawing her back to the sofa and against his shoulder. “Anytime,” he said, brushing his lips across her forehead as he reached for the book they had discarded. “Anytime.”

Then he opened the book and they read together. No more words. Just companionable silence, an occasional squeeze, and even more occasional kiss. But no more, just that. Seated together comfortably. As though they had spent their entire lives this way.

It was a daunting feeling, but Willow reveled in it. There had only been a connection like this with one other man, and she missed the comfort. The ease. The joy of being that close.

As for feeling this feeling with Sam, she was just afraid to love it too much. Despite his reassurances, she could not shake the feeling that there would be more hurt than joy in the end. And that she would not survive it. Surviving Oz had been trying enough—there was no way she could survive Sam.

No way. But the end would be worth it. So worth it.

If she could just make it there.


TBC

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chapter 30

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