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Bringing in the Big Guns
by Anya (amclerie@globalserve.net)

Disclaimer: The characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel The Series are the exclusive property of 20th Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, Warner Bros and Joss Whedon (as creator / producer). No infringement is
intended or profit made by production of this story.

Spoilers: BtVS, Season 4 (The Yoko Factor) Rating: All ages

Distribution: Willow_Graham Archives, all others please ask for approval just so that I can tell *where* the story is!

Author Notes: I don't know where this came from. I have so many other fics I need to work on, but this wouldn't let go of my mind. I hope people enjoy it, and I'd love feedback.

Teaser: In the wake of "The Yoko-Factor", the devastation of fallen friendships goes beyond just the Scooby Gang. Finding a friend when in need can be so hard to do.


Part One:

"Let me guess, you're here to dance on his grave." Even to his ears, Graham's voice sounded snide, alien to even himself.

The redhead scrambled to her feet as if the hounds of hell were on her tail. In Sunnydale, Graham supposed, anything was possible. "Whaa-" She stammered nervously, her fingers clutching at the cuffs of her sweater and twisting the fabric.

"You're the Slayer's friend. Buffy's pal, her roomie, right?" Graham poked at her verbally, his eyes skittering past the slight girl to see the fresh floral arrangement marking Forrest's grave. God, had it only been a week? A week since the last of his friends had died?

"Ye-yeah." Willow stammered as her eyes darted side to side as if searching for an escape. "I'm Buffy's roommate. I'm Willow."

"I know." Graham scowled, looking back up at the girl. Had she put the flowers there? "I know all about you and your friends."

"You-you do?" She inched backwards, her hip brushing the edge of Forrest's grave-marker. "I.. oh… because of the Initiative?"

Graham shook his head, face still sullen and angry. "No. Because of how your little friend the "Layer" took away my bud. I have orders to hunt down Riley now. And with Riley gone, Forrest bit it. We were indestructible together, but Little Miss Priss had to go tear us apart."

"Indestructible?" Willow fixated on the word, the fixation clear in her bright green eyes. "How… is it something Walsh did to you all? Like with ADAM?"

She thought they were bio-engineered, he realized suddenly, his lips twisting into a smirk. "Walsh did nothing to us. Geezus, are you all brainwashed?" He shook his head. "We were a team, we worked as partners and that kept us alive. Until now. Until Buffy."

"It's not Buffy's fault!" The girl protested, her eyes snapping to his face. "Riley pretty much destroyed us, so don't go all off on a holier than thou thingy. We did more to save the world and stop demons than you and the entire Initiative ever will do… and then Riley came on the scene and now we're not good enough." The fire in her eyes was brilliant and the set of her jaw stubborn.

"What?" Graham snapped his mind back from memories of patrols as the three musketeers to the girl in front of him. "Riley didn't…"

The strength and fire seemed to just vanish as suddenly as it appeared. Her shoulders slumped and head wilted immediately after the words left her. Shaking her head sadly, Graham could spot tears welling in her eyes. "He didn't mean to, but he did. Buffy doesn't need us - me anymore. There's super-soldier instead. Goddess, we started helping
her before we were even sixteen, and now… poof. "

The hot-air left him. As much as he wanted to blame everyone else, Buffy in particular, he couldn't deny he wasn't the only one hurting. Man, he so understood what she was saying. Even if Willow was one of the bad guys. The civilians trying to destroy the Initiative. "That's crap!" He argued grouchily, but without much conviction. "You guys are the reason Walsh is dead, why my team is toasted. Our mission is jeopardized because of you all."

Willow's lower lip warbled a little more. "It's NOT my fault!" She protested again. "I-I'm not the one torturing demons or abducting nice peoples! You are! Besides, you have your entire army thing still. You have your soldiery peoples and your school peoples and if you just sucked it up long enough you could have Riley back… I have nothing!"

"I just came here to apologize to Forrest for getting in the middle of a bad fight… and to let him know he wasn't forgotten… and… and…" The lip trembled again, a torrent of emotion clear in her eyes. "And I'm leaving!"

Spinning about on heel, she skirted around the tombstone and nearly sprinted to the exit at the older part of the cemetery before he could even react. "What was that?" He asked himself, jaw dropping in surprise.

She was quick on her feet. There was no way he could avoid that allowance. Even if he had wanted to catch up with her, he doubted he could. 'Good survival skill.' He absently thought, mind following a girl he could no longer see.

Willow was quiet, usually. In all the weeks that Riley had tentatively dated Buffy, he could only recall seeing the girl a handful of times. Always sitting quietly removed from crowds or parties. There, but not there at the same time. 'I shouldn't have attacked her like that.' He sighed, exhausted by his own tightly strung emotions and the pace of duty for the past few days. 'It's not her fault.'

It wasn't. Despite being friends with the Slayer, something he couldn't fault a person for especially if it helped them survive in this miserable town, Willow didn't seem the type to be malicious or inclined to terrorist activities. If he placed a bet, she had the highest GPA of her graduating class in high school and she'd never been kissed.

She had that kind of look about her. Not that there was anything wrong with never having been kissed before, he mentally added. It was just a type of innocence that brought out the big-brother protective nature in him. Usually.

Graham shook his head, clearing the mental cobwebs and dropped his gaze back to Forrest's simple grave. The earth was still fresh, since the funeral had only been two days ago. In some ways, he'd been surprised that his buddy had been buried in Sunnydale. Apparently, Forrest and his family had become rather estranged over the past few years.

Rather like he and his folks. Just another price to pay for this lifestyle, for this job in the Initiative. A brutal price, but one he had to pay nonetheless. Otherwise, his academics and career would have floundered completely. This was the fast track to the future. That's exactly how Riley, Forrest and he had always looked at it. Five years in the Initiative and then they could resign their commissions. 'Some of us will.' He closed his eyes, feeling the grief well up inside of him as he pictured Forrest's grinning face. 'Only one of us.'

There was a scattering of loose soil along the stone rim of the grave marker. Bending down to sweep it clear, he smiled thinking that it was just what Forrest would have expected. A veritable Casa Nova with a wicked temper, Forrest had also been the most fastidious of them all. "Hey Forrest." He murmured. "What's up?" Of all the things to be grateful for, the one thing that Graham did celebrate was that it hadn't been a vampire killing. There was no way he could ever bring down his friend, whether it was a demon in his body or not. He just couldn't do it.

"Miss you man." Graham admitted, "I wish you weren't dead. I really do. I know we were kind of at odds the past few weeks after the Riley thing, but… geez, man." What else was there to say? He was his bro. His pal. Forrest was the person he trusted his life with. Now, there was no one to back him up. He was completely alone. Like Willow Rosenberg.

"Stop that." He muttered aloud. "Just have to get that out of my head. I should be partying to know that the Slayer and her little band of misfits have fallen apart. It's what you wanted, wasn't it, Forrest?"

Forrest, his laughing witty bud, had no comment to offer of course. For all the work he did with the Initiative, did Forrest gain heaven? "I'm loosing my mind." Graham sighed. "I can't let this go. I'm obsessing over how alone I am, I'm obsessing on you, and I'm fuckin' obsessing on the Slayer and her gang… including Riley. What do I do, For? I have got to get control of this all. Otherwise, I'm going to be kicked out of the Initiative and loose everything."

A soft breeze scattered cherry blossoms, but no other pearls of wisdom were forthcoming. In the late afternoon sunlight, the cemetery was so unthreatening. Once the sun set, though, it was a battlefield. Did the dead truly deserve to be surrounded by darkness? 'This isn't helping me.' Graham kicked himself. 'Broody, yes. Sombre, yes, but I do not start having philosophical discussions with myself. Get over it man. What do you have to do to feel like you've got control again?'

Well, stop sulking was the obvious first step. The second? Engage his brain. He did have one, after all and it was about high time he used it for more than analyzing their potential targets. He was on a temporary suspension from active duty following the tests and trauma counseling he'd undergone. He had two weeks to fill up and if he didn't find something constructive to do, the emptiness and the loneliness would eat him up.

* not good enough * The words cried through his mind. * not good enough * The pain in Willow's green eyes matched the emptiness in his soul. How did she deal? Was she dealing? And why wouldn't she leave his mind?

Just because she'd left Forrest a small posy of flowers? Ha! "God, Forrest…" Graham dropped his head between his hands. "I don't even know where to start."

Man, it sucked when you started feeling sorry for the bad-guys too.

*~*~*

The campus was barren of students. On a late Sunday afternoon just a few were scattered here and there about the school grounds. Finals were around the corner and anyone out on the sun-dappled lawns was there with a textbook in hand.

He'd checked the library first, figuring that to be her regular haunt and predominantly neutral ground. Either she was the most evasive woman on campus, or she was avoiding her usual hiding spots. So, reluctantly, Graham had ventured to her dorm for a surreptitious hunt. No luck there, either.

He wasn't an Agent for nothing, though, and his interrogation of her neighbors was done with a casual flair. Buffy hadn't been there in days, six days to be precise. Which timed the fight that broke up the Slayer's little gang to the same day that his own world fell apart. How nice to see the ironic parallels in his world to the Slayer's. Either it was one helluva fight, or Riley had some pretty good alternative accommodations. If it ever came down that he HAD to find Riley, Graham
was certain the best way was to find and follow the Slayer. Assuming he ever found her.

'Buffy's not my primary.' He reminded himself as he squinted into the distance. Scouring the southern campus court for any sign of red hair he was willing at this point to accost anyone with the slight build of Willow Rosenberg. How did that girl manage to hide so well? She wasn't the Slayer, nor was she Initiative. But, damn him she was incredibly elusive. Curiosity was eating him alive. The decision to find Willow had been easily made. His better manners and basic compassionate nature drove him to find her in order to apologize. Now, though, as the evidence of a shattered world became clearer and clearer, he wanted to know more. The only source he potentially had was the tiny redhead and the information he was getting on her was incredibly confusing. Was Willow not the girl who had been dating the musician? That werewolf they'd
found?

So what was the skinny on the Tara chick. Man, maybe she was bi? She was so timid, so shy and so reticent that he couldn't personally see it in her but life in Sunnydale was full of surprises. Like that vampires were real and the Slayer wasn't a myth. Who knew?

'Where the hell IS she?' He scowled, rolling his head backwards and looking up to a fairly clear sky. 'This is NUTS!' He'd spent the entire morning and part of the afternoon looking for her and he still had absolutely no luck! No one knew this Tara girl well enough to say where her dorm was and with this weather he found it hard to believe anyone would be inside. So - if he were a lonely shy girl, where would he go if not the South Quad? It screamed loners with all the shaded trees and park benches. Where else on campus, or hell - off campus would a frightened lonely girl go?

Turning about slowly as he gave the question though, he looked up and caught a glimpse of red hair immediately. Didn't it just figure? Picking up his pace, Graham nearly lapsed into a run as he followed her. Her movements were jerky and a little bit too nervous for his tastes. Was something after her? In broad daylight? "Hey… Willow!" He called out.

She froze, turning to look over her shoulder. Green eyes widened and her fragile face paled. Spinning back around she picked up her pace again.

"Oh man…" Graham sighed, conceding defeat of his ego and throwing himself into a light jog. The things he did when his curiosity was ravenous. "Willow, wait!"

Her shoulders slumped, head falling forward to touch her breastbone, but she dutifully stopped and turned around to look at him. For some reason, he had the feeling he was looking at a sweet puppy just waiting to be kicked. There was absolutely little to no self-esteem in this kid. "Thanks." He breathed, stopping a few feet from her. "Listen, I
wanted to apologize. I dumped on you and I shouldn't have."

The wounded puppy flinched, but relaxed as his words sunk in. "It's okay." She whispered softly.

"No." Graham shook his head. "No, it's not. My mom raised me better than that, and I was wrong to attack you the way I did. I know you didn't personally tell Riley to betray the Initiative or ask Forrest to throw himself at ADAM, so I had no business yelling at you."

Willow shrugged. One corner of her mouth twitched into a slight half-smile. "You didn't yell."

Graham let the grin shine through. "Trust me, for me... that was yelling." He gave her the best 'relax - I don't bite' smile he could, the one he normally reserved for little kids. "Ask Riley next time you see him."

She winced. There was no mistaking that action. A little fleeting cloud of dismal emotion swept across her face and darkened those jeweled emerald eyes. "Yeah… I will." She promised softly.

"If you see him." A frown crept across his face, his thoughts all focusing on the girl in front of him. Reading her body language was easier than a second grade novel. "You won't, though. Will you?"

Willow shrugged. The slight movement of her shoulders a pathetic thing to see. Just a gradual up and a sudden release downwards. "Probably not. Buffy's not talking to me and they don't want me around so…"

"Why not?" He couldn't stop the question. It just blurted out. Even though he could see it hurt to open this festering wound by talking about it. "Why don't they want you around … I'm assuming… anymore?"

"Because I'm not hacker-girl or research-girl anymore." Willow murmured with downcast eyes. "I'm redundant."

THIS was interesting. No doubt about it. If he thought he had problems with Riley gone AWOL and Forrest dead, he had nothing like what the Slayer and her Merry Band were going through. "You want to talk about it?" He offered, before realizing it. The psych undergrad in him coming out, he supposed. "I know enough of the real story to listen, at least. How many others on campus can say the same?"

Willow shook her head. "No, no. It's okay. You don't want to listen to me. It's the same old same old. Willow-feels-sorry-for-herself routine. Boring. Really." With her arms shoved into overall pockets, and the rather rundown look to herself, she seemed utterly pathetic.

"I insist." Graham shook his head with a wry smile. "I'll sob my story, you sob yours and we can commiserate as only people on the opposite sides of things can."

She licked her lips, yet another nervous gesture. She was full of nervous acts, wasn't she? Did the poor girl never have a moment of peace? "I-thanks. That's nice of you and all. But… no. It's… there's not much to say. Buffy has Riley and she doesn't need the old backing team anymore. So… that's all."

Graham raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"It's okay." She added, peeking up to see he was still examining her with the same intensity a hawk did it's prey. "I'm used to being alone, and all. And… school's almost out, so… I'm fine. Really." It ended on a whisper. Graham wasn't an older sibling for nothing, he knew a poor lie when he saw one and a poor liar went he met one.

"You're afraid of something." He folded arms across his chest and gazed down at her. "What?"

"Nothing." Willow squeaked. "Oh, Goddess. I can't do this right now." She rubbed her face wearily. "I've got to go. I really have to. I - thanks and all, but-I know you don't want to fuss with me, I'm or I was one of Buffy's friends which makes me the Bad Guy so I'm not on your best people to talk to list. So… thanks, and… I…"

"Willow?"

Her eyes closed. "Oh-- I'm supposed to - Goddess. I'm so over my head." She sighed, the last bit more to herself.

"Over your head in what?" This was the opening he had been waiting for. The chance to really find out what was going on. Something was majorly wrong here, and he couldn't let it slide. Taking her arm he turned her back into the direction she'd been walking. One hand on her elbow he nudged her forward. "School?"

"Nu…nothing!" Willow breathed quickly, her feet moving faster than her legs liked to keep with Graham's pace. "Just… nothing. Nothing. I'm fine. Just, well -- you know there is so much to do, no time to do it all and all that stuff. Just being paranoid. "

"Sure." Graham waved over to a few students at a passing park-bench, recognizing them as trainees for the Initiative. They all looked so young. Barely even kids and yet there were about to put their life on the line for the rest of humanity. "I know all about you, you're the super-brain. You are the one person on campus who should have gone to an Ivy-League school. So, I doubt you're overwhelmed with school. You're a loner. Never seem to go home, always back at the dorm at a
reasonable hour and never at parties." He glanced down at his captive. Her lip was between her teeth. Really, she should have developed an ulcer by now. "So, if you're not caught up in schoolwork and your social life is a disaster if I understand things rightly that means that whatever has you over your head has to do with your social life being in the state it's in or a demon-thing. So, which is it?"

"My social life?" She made the answer a squeaky question. "Yeah, my social life. You know, being friendless and all."

Time for his trump card. "What about Tara? Isn't she a friend?" She deflated faster than a popped balloon could. He almost thought she was fainting in the speed by which her shoulders slumped and body stilled. "Willow?"

"Oh, Goddess." She sighed. "I can't do this. I can't take any more."

"What's going on?" It was more than a puzzle now. His curiosity had given way to his better senses and his interest in helping others. That was why he had joined the Initiative. Not because he liked to fight but that he liked to give others a fighting chance. "Are you and Tara in trouble for something?"

"No." Her eyes closed, squeezing tightly. "I was hoping I was wrong. I really was. I… I mean, she seemed so nice and I just wanted to help and… then the weird stuff happened and I don't know how I came to this point. I mean, I saw vamp-Willow, I know it's possible but I thought it was a demony trait not a "me thing" so…. I don't know what's happening to me, if it's real or she's doing something to me but I think she IS doing something to me because I'm wigging and…" Her voice trailed off, lost with confusion. "I'm in over my head."

That made absolutely no sense, but Graham recognized panic when he heard it. He did have a younger sister, after all. "Pardon? I think I missed the issues at hand here. And what do you mean 'vamp-Willow'? You're not a vampire!"

"No." She agreed. "But I was…"

His jaw nearly dislocated. "What?"

"I mean, an alternate me that was a vampire was brought here because of a spell gone wrong and she was really not nice." Willow's hand moved quickly as she babbled. "Like, bisexual nasty not nice."

Graham blinked. "And this connects how? With Tara?"

Willow swallowed. "Yeah… kind of. Listen, I really have to go. She'll ask all sorts of questions if I'm much later and I don't need her to know that I was talking with you because then she'll want to know what's going on and I can't…"

"Nothing's going on." Graham answered easily. "Why are you so afraid of Tara? She's harmless? From what I hear, you could accidentally wallpaper over her she's so transparent."

Willow's breath caught as if on a sob. "She's not. I don't think she is or at least, I think she isn't but maybe I'm wrong. I just don't know. I don't know if she's doing something to me, but I think she is and I don't know how to stop it. I can't even ask Buffy for help now, because Buffy hates me right now and Xander has Anya so he won't listen to me…."

"Doing something to you? Is she blackmailing you with something?"

"No…" Willow moaned desperately, her hands wringing. "Oh, why am I telling you this?" Her cheeks were a vibrant pink, embarrassment clear.

Setting both hands on her shoulders, Graham turned her around and made her look at him. "Willow, I am a senior member of the Initiative. I can help you if you'll let me. No one has the right to force another person to do anything against his or her will. Now, what's going on?"

Those eyes closed for a moment, lip trembling again. "Tara's a witch." She breathed. "Not a strong one, at least, I didn't think so. But, she wants me for something. And I keep making choices that I don't understand. I think she's controlling me to do what she wants."

"A witch?" Graham blinked. Witches weren't real. There were Hansel and Gretel fairy tales, fictional creations meant to scare children. "There isn't any such thing as a…"

"There are." Willow breathed, looking away sadly. "Because I'm a witch too."


Part Two

Life didn't get weirder than in Sunnydale. For all the years he'd seen weird things living on a base with his folks, nothing compared to the shit he'd seen since coming to this town. 'Witches, Vampires and Ghouls, Oh My!' Graham laughed silently as he towel dried his hair. 'I think I'll start writing sci-fi thrillers if I survive life on the Hellmouth.'

Tossing the towel into the communal "laundry" bin, he padded back to his dorm room with another towel loosely draped across his hips. Casual and cool as he nodded to dorm mates, shoulders back and no slouching. The perfect soldier with six-pack in evidence and no issues on display to give the overall impression that all was cool in his world and there was nothing for anyone to notice. It wasn't that people were prying, but that his fellow soldiers in the Initiative were concerned after two of his unit members had fallen. Riley from grace and Forrest in battle. After all, they all had to depend on
each other to survive. No one wanted a loose link.

The team supreme was no more. Only the brains of the unit were left. 'Hopefully, the brain has enough sense to keep his nose clean and alive. Discharge is in two years. Just two more years and I can blow this Popsicle stand.'

The lock on his room door was never used. In a house totally owned and secured by Initiative operatives concerns like petty theft were moot. If someone broke in a robbed him, well there would be a lockdown and court-martial happening pretty damn fast. This was all in Graham's better interest since remembering to take a key fell far down on the "Things to Bring" list he mentally kept.

Sunlight broke in from the easterly side to brighten up his small room. 'Small, heh.' He chortled, remembering Riley's stricken face to see the size of his friend's quarters. In comparison to their fearless leader's rooms, Graham had the smallest room. However, if he measured this space against his room back home it was palatial. Enough to hold a double bed, a desk and an armoire. The armoire had followed him from base to base with his family. Everything he'd ever
owned had fit in its entirety into that unit for the sake of their frequent moves.

'What do you need that piece of fluff for?' Forrest had laughed, pointing at the armoire. 'You going girly on us?' Sitting
crosslegged on the floor, the large black man had reached over for the laundry basket Graham had been folding and searched through it. 'No dainty laceys in here!' He reported with a salute to Riley who sat at the desk.

'Lay off, man!' Graham had retorted cheerfully. 'I have an exclusive sweater collection that needs fine accommodation. There are talent spotters out there waiting to find me.' All of them had laughed at that, before he ruefully added. 'Besides, I'm slightly colorblind. I have problems with certain shades. I use an armoire to organize my shirts and sweaters so that I don't make a clothing disaster of myself.'

Graham reached out with one hand to stroke the large wooden fixture, smiling sadly as he recalled that afternoon. God, they'd never sit together over breakfast again. Or grumble about a training session as a group. Even if things with Riley were repaired, Forrest was forever gone.

A sigh tore from him, the deep sound of regret. Regret that he hadn't been there for Forrest, that he couldn't save his friend. Regret that he hadn't listened more to Riley as the other man explained what the hell was going on with him, or found out more about the Slayer and her gang.

So many opportunities missed and the price had been two friendships. 'Man, am I dismal or what?' He kicked himself, ruefully shaking his head. 'Move on. You messed up before, but you have a fabulous chance to see inside the Slayer's head now. Get dressed and get going, boy!'

Grabbing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, he threw them onto the bed. There was maybe ten minutes before he actually had to be ready and if he concentrated, he could prioritize his questions and get his approach to the upcoming interrogation in order. Hopefully, no one else in the Initiative would notice whom he was meeting for breakfast this morning. Or associate the girl with the Slayer. The Commander wouldn't like it if he had to question the loyalties of yet another operative.

In less than five minutes he was dressed and his hair lightly gelled. Not that he was a prima donna, but he couldn't stand it if his short hair wasn't firmly in place. A hangover, he supposed, of living with Drill-Sergeant Dad. Grabbing his wallet, his communicator and as an afterthought his keys, he jerked open the door and met a pair of startled green eyes. "Hi!" He blurted, surprised.

"Um. Hi." Willow stammered, her face blushing furiously as she looked around and saw the other people watching them. "Listen…I… I know I'm early and all, but I… there were…problems…"

"Getting away?" He asked the question loudly so as to let some observers suspect that the Slayer's friend (should they realize who she was) was operating on their side of the street. "That's cool. Let's take the back way out and we can talk over breakfast, okay?"

Sliding his hand against the small of her back as she turned around, Graham gently pushed her towards the stairs at the far end of the hallway. Again, he made a point of meeting the eyes of people around him while chitchatting lightly with Willow. Simple things like how the weather was, if she was planning on taking summer classes. When the last time she did a hex was… the casual conversation thing.

It wasn't until he was all of a hundred feet away from the Residence that he breathed easy. "Man, I never want to feel like that again." He grumbled.

"What?" Willow jumped. "Feel like what? Did I do something wrong? I shouldn't have come to the house I know, but if I went down to the kitchens then Tara would have found me and then…"

Reaching up, or at least reaching up to his chest level, he squeezed her shoulder gently to still her worried voice. "Nothing like that, Willow. Everyone is watching me a little bit closer because of all that's gone down. Having you come to the door just caught their attention. They probably won't even connect who you are, just that you were a newcomer to our residence."

"Oh."

"I just hate being center stage." The smile came easily to his lips, the kind of expression he used to put strangers at ease in his presence. Odd that he found it necessary to use such a façade on Willow.

She nodded agreeably though, looking away to a cluster of trees that blocked the view of the town itself. "Yeah. I know all about stage-fright." The sigh was full of painful memories.

Sucked to be alone. God, he knew that so well right now. Which probably explained why he felt the urge to help her out, or at least understand what had broken up his and her world both. "So." He deliberately lowered his head so that his mouth was closer to her ear. "Does anyone know we're meeting today?"

Willow jumped. He could feel it although they weren't touching. "N…n..no" She stammered hesitantly. "I… Who would I tell? I can't tell Tara since she's the person who I don't want to know that I'm talking to you about and I can't talk to…" The sweet expression in her face fell becoming significantly sadder.

"Buffy." Graham guessed, nodding as her eyes said the truth. "Maybe you should try to find her, make things right. If things are as bad as you think, don't you need the Slayer on your side?"

"Maybe."

Eyebrow raising and his chin jutting out thoughtfully, he noted the reluctance in her voice. "Come on, things can't be that bad!"

Willow shrugged half-heartedly. "We all said some horrible things. Really bad. And the scary thing is, it was all the truth. We meant everything. Well, I meant everything except the Tara comment because as soon as I was two buildings away from Tara I wondered what the H. E. double hockey-sticks I was thinking but…"

"I get it." Graham grinned, starting to get the hang of dissembling Willow-rambles. "Big bad fight of all the festering irritations from the last year and so. Right?"

"Right." She scuffed her shoe against the pavement walkway. "I never had many friends growing up. They usually died pretty quickly. It all changed with Buffy, you know? She needed me to help, be research girl or hacker-girl. Now, she doesn't need me at all. Every-time there was a problem it was 'oh, Willow. You stay here nice and safe.' Or, 'Oh Willow, Riley can find all that out from the Initiative records.' You know, there's no danger for disaster-me." The sulk was clear in her voice.

"There's no one else?" How barren an existence, Graham couldn't even imagine it for himself. Even without Riley and Forrest, he still had friends and family. "What about your parents? Or other friends?"

"I think my parents are in Atlanta for a convention." Willow's forehead furrowed in concentration. "Or maybe it's Dallas this year?" She shrugged. "I don't know. They'll come back and check on me for a day or two in a few weeks and go again."

Life on an army base suddenly looked really chipper. At least his Dad checked in with him on a daily basis even if it was nothing more than a phone-call or quick lunches away from school. And Graham's mother had always been available. Never before had he realized how good he really did have it. 'Mother's Day is going to be REALLY good this year.' He promised silently, vowing to renew his relations with his parents.

"They love me, though." Willow said into the silence, defensive of how people thought of her parental relations. "They're just different."

"Understatement." Graham acknowledged. "So, you're completely over your head and there's no one to help you out."

Willow looked away to the brick wall of the building they were heading towards. "Um. Yeah. Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe I'm wrong." She muttered now fixing her eyes down at her sneakers. "What if I'm just getting all uptight and stuff over nothing? You know, denial."

Somehow, he doubted that. You didn't have a 'thing' for someone of the same sex when you were with them and then wonder what the hell was happening to you when you were away from them in the way she was. Nervous breakdowns were not part of healthy romantic relationships.

"When did you start questioning it all?" He asked, falling back on his training. Hey, you didn't study in the intensive programs like he did for nothing, after all. "Every time you were away from her, or just recently."

The girl glanced in his direction. "Last Saturday. After the fight. We were so upset. Yelling at each other so much until we all stormed out of the house and into separate directions. I left Tara there, I had forgotten about her." She shrugged, her voice lowering. "I got back to the dorm, burst into tears and started thinking about everything. That's when it hit me. I couldn't understand WHY I was with Tara, why I was doing the things I was with her…she's nice and all, or appears to be, but…"

Graham's mind shuddered against any potential for full disclosure. He just hoped that the "things" weren't too intimate to permanently traumatize her. "But?"

"Nothing." Willow sighed. "I just felt like someone else was running around with my body and I didn't know where *I* was when all that was happening, you know?"

Not really, but he couldn't say that to her. His affections had always been permanently placed with girls. Despite his reserve and his apparent indifference to the hormones all over campus, he did know that it was definitely the female persuasion that charmed him most.

"But you're questioning it now." Graham mused, trying to process the entire thought in a logical fashion. Sure, they were discussing magic and witchcraft, but didn't he catch demons for a job? Who was he to deny her claim? "When did you see Tara next after that?"

"Two days ago. For a couple hours. Same thing." Willow muttered. "Hey," she brightened, looking up. "St. Cinnamon for breakfast?" The sweet smell of the cinnamon buns filled the air, growing stronger with each step.

Graham jerked his thoughts from analyzing Willow's issue. It had never occurred to him that she might not approve of junk food for breakfast. All he gave a damn about was the decaf coffee he could get here. It was better than the decaf at the cafeteria. "Eating here isn't a problem, is it? We could always go…"

"No." She shook her head. "This is great. Better than great." A chin length lock of hair found it's way to her mouth, and she bit down on the end nervously. "I haven't had a sticky-bun in ages." She seemed wistful, almost. As if it were a part of her childhood long since lost.

"No time like the present." Graham muttered, steering her with a gentle push to her back. "We're not supposed to eat them." He admitted, reaching for the door to the building. St. Cinnamon was tucked into one of the Arts buildings near the main entrance. "Affects our sugar intake in a detrimental fashion."

Willow snorted, rolling her eyes inelegantly. "Right. It mucks up the drugs they're giving you in your food and vitamins, you mean." With the school year reduced to exams, for once the small little booth was sparsely populated. Chairs were plentiful with the high vacancy rate and the food service quick.

'She was obsessed with a bioengineering theory happening at the Initiative, wasn't she?' Graham thought amused, lifting a tray from the rack and setting it on the counter. This was the second time she'd suggested that his body had been tampered with medically. "They don't do that to us. We're part of regular army service and we do have to stay within certain medical guidelines for our own good, but they don't modify us."

"You think."

"I know." Sliding the counter-cooler open to grab a bottle of water, he looked at her in askance. "You want anything."

Skittish as a colt, she darted in and grabbed an orange juice. Graham had to pluck it out of her hands in order to set it on the tray. This was his idea, to meet for breakfast for a Q & A period, the least he could do was pay. It wasn't like feeding her would be expensive. Willow was tiny. Her slender frame so delicate on the eye she seemed almost frail.

Perhaps that was part of the reason her situation so intrigued him. A tiny little fragile bird had stood against the big bad monsters of Sunnydale and survived. It just boggled the mind. "Sticky bun?" He made the word into a question, smirking at her startled expression. Where had HER mind been?

"Ye-yeah." They way her mouth twisted, he knew she was biting the inside of her cheek. "Sure."

"Anything else?" Like a milk, or cinnamon French toast, something with a nutritional value…. Even with the loose skirt and sweater to conceal her figure, Graham could tell she probably was underweight.

Willow shook her head quick and furiously. "No. That's all."

Well, if she wanted something more, he could always buy it later, Graham supposed. Their orders were placed quickly, including his coffee with their food. Within mere minutes he was carrying the tray and steering Willow to a table at the far side, near a window. "I won't bite." He assured her, almost smiling at the hesitant way she slid into a chair. "Look at it this way, I'm a neutral party with knowledge of some of the unusual circumstances around you. Plus, I'm a psychology undergrad. What more could you want in a sounding board?"

"Someone who doesn't shoot people?" She squeaked.

"Demons. We capture demons, not people." Her eyes contested that claim, and as much as he wanted to prove otherwise something deep within him said to let it be. Looking for evidence to support his claim might dig up other things to upset him. "Eat, and then we'll talk. Okay?"

It must have been agreeable to her, because she reached for her sticky-bun and tore a strip off of it. The bird theory still held, watching her tear little pieces and pop it into her mouth with quick efficiency. The word associations that pulled into it were 'nimble' and 'darting'. Like a tiny little hummingbird. She was a delicate little bird that seemed plain on the outside but was just adorable when you looked at it up close.

Bemused by the imagery, he lifted his coffee cup and took a sip, eyes sliding to the door as it open. And he froze.

"Willow!" The effeminate voice and the almost hippy style weren't familiar to him on a personal level, but he knew Tara on sight. "Wow… what are you doing here?" She didn't bounce, per se, it was more like watching a ghost glide across the floor. Hands tucked into her faded jeans and long hair loose the overall image was nothing threatening.

His periphery vision saw Willow stiffen. It was utterly astonishing, watching her green eyes just glaze over and her entire face go slack-jawed for one second before becoming radiantly happy to see the girl. "Tara!" She smiled, reaching out to catch Tara's hand. "I didn't think you'd be up so early!"

The by-play was fascinating but Graham had a rather creepy feeling watching Willow become someone totally different. It was as if someone had flicked a light-switch. The pleasantries of a greeting took seconds before Tara's coolly accessing eyes slid to his fast. "Hello." It was pretty bold for her reputation to address him first. "I don't think we've met."

The hidden message was clear 'And we won't ever again!'.

"I'm Graham." He smiled cheerfully. "Willow and I have some friends in common, Riley and Buffy. You know them, right?" Just because he was usually taciturn and serious didn't mean he lacked social graces. If it would throw this little witch off, he was all for it.

"Oh." Tara seemed uncertain, a cloud passing over her face. "So…"

"Do you want to join us?" Graham offered, reaching behind to slide another chair to their table. "Oh, and hey… do you know much about MySQL servers too? Willow was going to tutor me as much as she can for my summer course, but the more help I can get the better off I am…"

He was planning on taking a course of MySQL this summer, which was dead truth. Just, not in Sunnydale. After months of absence he'd taken the step to renew his ties with his family. The local college had the program and it was an excuse to take a leave of absence from the Initiative for nearly sixteen weeks. After all the upheaval in the past few weeks Graham felt the break was sorely needed.

"Uh..no." The girl stammered, now looking very uncertain as her eyes darted from a smiling Willow to Graham. "No… I'm arts, and…Well. I'll just let you get on with the tutoring."

Graham could see the sudden decision in Tara's face. After Willow left him today Tara would take steps so that the redhead never came across his path again. 'Do I get involved or stay out of it?' He mused suddenly. His only objective here had been for information. Actually, it wasn't as altruistic as it all sounded. He'd find out what was happening with Riley, why the Slayer's gang had fallen out and if there was any way he could work to stop ADAM. Willow would
get someone to talk to about her confusions and an unbiased opinion.

Seemed fair. Until his little conscience sprouted up after seeing just how controlled Willow clearly was. 'And to think I always thought magic was card tricks.' Logically, he still discounted the magic-witch theory. Brainwashing easily explained why Willow was behaving like this. A combination of drugs and post hypnotic suggestion could theoretically create a split personality effect.

His attention turned back to Tara. "Are you sure?" He smiled as genially as possible. Silence couldn't linger in this delicate
power-struggle. He had to play his part carefully even as his mind raced. "I could always talk to Willow later, if you want…."

Willow nodded eagerly. "Sure, Tara! If you're free now I can always…"

Tara shook her head suddenly. "No!" The smile was forced. "No. It's okay. I'll… say, Willow. I'll come by your dorm at 3:30. You be there."

In-Ter-Esting! Graham nearly made a face that would betray his thoughts. The girl wasn't subtle about her commands. Based on what he was seeing, Willow's consciousness was not recalling these episodes with one hundred percent clarity. Only the actions she took were remembered, not the things she was told. 'I wonder what a hypnotic session would reveal?' There were some doctors for the Initiative capable of doing just that.

The question was, could he convince one to do it and not to document the report?

"I'll be there." Willow promised inanely. It was like looking at a young puppy, all eager to please the master. Her eyes followed Tara all the way out the door, and she spun in her seat to watch the girl walk away through the window. Never once did any emotion beyond devotion shine in her face.

"Controlled." Graham said the word sharply, wondering if it would work at all. Sometimes a person under a hypnotic suggestion could be rattled from it with a sharp tone or word.

Her head snapped back and eyes cleared immediately. "Pardon?"

"You're controlled. Major bad mojo." Graham cut into his breakfast and shoveled a spoonful into his mouth. "I just don't know if it's what you call magic, though."

"But I haven't told you…"

"I just saw it, Willow. Tara was here and YOU went la-la-land. Total brainwashing." Graham nodded authoritatively, lips thin. "We've seen it in training, Willow. It can be done."

"Tara was here?" The girl shivered convulsively. "So, in your training did they say how to stop it?"

Did she HAVE to go for the difficult part immediately? "No." Graham frowned. "But, I'll look into it." It was the least he could do. Not that getting the information would help her since after today Tara would take pains to ensure he never saw Willow again.

What did the other girl want with Willow, anyway? This seemed an awfully extreme way to get a girlfriend.

Willow's soft moan banished his speculations. Her head cradled in her hands, she seemed more than lost. The hopelessness was tangible. Yeah. She was right. She was way over her head and if ever she needed the Slayer on her side now was the time.

"Let's just say it was a spell." Graham kept his voice low but soft. "What would she get out of it, and is there a way to disrupt it?" Personally, the brainwashing seemed infinitely more rational, but Willow needed to feel that she had some control over her situation. Despair would destroy her utterly.

"I don't know." Willow moaned into her arms. "I just don't know."

The coffee could wait. Slipping out of his chair, Graham did the most compassionate and understanding thing he could. He lifted Willow up and into his arms, hugging her gently as he rubbed her back. "Then." He promised her softly. "We find out."

Part Three

Slopping a big spoonful of mashed potatoes in the middle of his plate, Graham grinned evilly and reached for the gravy. This lunch represented everything he was not supposed to eat. Starches, sugars, and all sorts of other dietary crap just waiting to clog up arteries and do all sorts of other damages to his body. He was nearly drooling in anticipation.

This was the best way to celebrate the final completion of his last exam for the school year. Reaching into the cooler as he slid his tray along the lunch counter of the cafeteria, he grabbed a Mountain Dew just to round the whole thing off. 'Sweet, man. Just sweet.' It was going to go down so smooth. Gleefully, he took his loot to the cash register and handed over the money with eager anticipation. Yesterday's well-balanced diet was about to be sucked down the drain.

"Miller, that stuff will kill you, man!" Rhymes, leader of another field unit for the Initiative called from a nearby table. "Where's the lean-mean health machine?"

"Going home to 'Chusetts to eat his Mama's slop." Graham grinned over his shoulder, slapping down a fork and knife onto the tray before moving over to join his comrade. "Finished my last final for the year, and as of Saturday I am so gone."

"No fooling?" Jason Rhymes was a nice guy. Heavy into the forensic side of research but he was still a good commander and a great field leader. Graham wasn't particularly close to the man, but he did enjoy the company. "You got leave?"

"Sixteen weeks." Graham smirked at the slack-jawed look on Jason's face. "Take it for what it is, Rhymes. The Colonel wants me away so they can restructure some units and imp me into one."

Jason's face sobered gravely. "Yeah. I can see that. Well, hell. I'll ask the big man if you can be put on my team. It'd be cool to have you there."

It was perhaps the first genuine interest anyone had displayed towards taking a leftover from the Team Supreme. Pausing in cutting his Salisbury steak, Graham nodded, his blue eyes smiling. "That'd be great, man. I'd really like that."

Not that there was a snowballs chance of it happening, and both of them knew it. Finn, Miller and Gates had been part of a very select team. Maggie Walsh's pet project and everyone on base knew it. He wasn't sure what was going to be done with his placement, but something at the back of his head said whatever it would be he wouldn't like it. All in all, he only had three years to get through and then he was a free bird.

A free bird with his Masters, too. All paid for by the US Army. Woohoo.

"When's your last day on duty?" Jason continued keeping his voice quiet given the nature of his questions. The Initiative was a high-level classified project and public discussion of it and the operations it engaged in were strictly frowned upon. "And what's in Massachusetts to pull you way the hell out east?"

"Yesterday and my family." Graham answered around a forkful of food, the rich taste so savory he thought his tongue was melting. This was the good stuff. And if he could just have his entire trip home laden with all this naughty goodness, he'd die happy.

"Family?" Jason nodded his understanding of that draw. "I haven't seen my folks in almost three years now. Must be nice."

Graham froze, looking up with suddenly intent blue eyes. "Three years? Do you call them? Or write?"

"Nyah." Jason made a face. "I don't know why, just never seem to find the time. Maybe I'll give Mom a call tonight. Who knows."

Weird. That made it a total of fifteen Agents that he knew of who had cut ties to their friends and family since joining the
Initiative. Given his military-brat background, Graham knew it wasn't normal for soldiers to do that. Only covert ops tended to abandon families and they weren't a covert operation. A classified one yes, but not a covert military endeavor. "Does anyone in our little group evervisit their family or have regular contact?" He asked as casually as he could.

Jason shoved his tray back, leaning into his chair and setting hands up behind his head. "No. Not that I know of." He answered after a long thoughtful pause. "Although, you know a lot of us don't have family. Six individuals in my unit are orphans. What amazes me, though, is how few of us have steady relationships on campus. Finn is about the only one I know of."

Good point, Graham acknowledged with a nod. Riley was unique of all residents in Lowell House for the way he formed a relationship with Buffy Summers and then maintained it. Most of the guys had one-night flings and nothing more. Not like Parker, but emotionless casual liasons with people who were also looking for the exact same thing. "Interesting."

"Isn't it? Speaking of interesting…" Jason's voice dropped a note or two, his eyes sparkling conspiratorially. "There's a rumor going around about you, you know. Something about a girl being seen in your company and in your room on several occasions this past week."

Deliberately, Graham arched an eyebrow and pretended bemusement. "Is she pretty?" He grinned. "'Cause, if she's pretty, I really want to know about it." This was dangerous ground, and his stomach was tightening in response. It was essential that no one in Lowell House realize he'd been sharing his quarters over the past ten days. Willow's stay in the building had to remain absolutely unknown to the others. It was absolutely crucial for her safety.

"Word is, very!" Jason grinned, obviously buying into Graham's misleading body language. "Slender, small with soft brown hair and big eyes she is reported to be absolutely hot."

"In my room?" Graham sighed lustily. "I always miss out on the good moments."

"You and me both, buddy." Jason laughed. "Hate to gossip and run, but I have an exam in ten. You have a great trip home!"

"I will. Keep safe." Graham lifted his can in toast and answer. "Oh, and if you find this rumored girl could you please take a
picture of her for me to see?"

"You know it."

Graham slumped back into his chair, watching as Jason left the cafeteria before scanning the room for anyone else who might be watching him closely. Nothing. There were just today and tomorrow left for finals, although most people were done already. The population on campus was remarkably sparse.

Jason's observations about family ties and relationships amongst the members of the Initiative gravely bothered Graham. For all that he maintained his stance that the Initiative had no hidden agenda, it was these little things that made him nervous. 'We are not being tampered with.' He reinforced his belief as strongly as he could. 'Just because we're an antisocial crew does not mean that someone's mucking with our minds.'

Now, if only it weren't for the fact that he had been raised so that family was the be-all end-all of human existence. How could he POSSIBLY have turned his back on his mom and sibs? He'd never been a selfish kid, nor had he ever had a bad fight with his brother or sister. Two years of dead silence was just too strange now that he looked back on it.

It didn't take a brain surgeon to life a phone and make a long-distance call, after all.

His mom had been in tears when he called her to ask if he could come home. Her joy had overwhelmed him and just fed into the guilt complex that he was fostering. The sheer forgiveness and love that she freely gave him in a simple phone call had nearly brought him to tears and only Willow's presence in the room, frantically typing away on her laptop had made him not surrender to his emotions.

This trip back to Cape Cod was sorely needed. First to find his connection to his family again, and secondly to figure out what the hell was happening to his world. His two closest friends were gone, his career questionable and now he was beginning to succumb to Willow's claim that all agents were being manipulated medically and psychologically.

Some stable steady ground was needed to regain his perspective.

His watch beeped, breaking his thoughts. 'Ten minutes.' He looked down at his nearly completed plate and applied himself to finishing his lunch with vigor. Willow and he had a big night, tonight, and by damn he wasn't going on a half-empty stomach.

Dumping the tray but taking his soda with him, he quickly left Robinson Hall for the main faculty building where he was meeting Willow. If not for his exam this morning, he would not have let her wander the campus unescorted. However, as much as he wanted to keep Tara from finding the girl, he just couldn't be there all the time.

Taking the stairs from the back lawn to the rear-entrance of the main Facility building, Graham cheerfully vaulted over the half-wall and skipped down a few more steps. This kind of reminded him of his first year at the college when he had raced from class to class on a daily basis.

The glass doors on the building were more appropriate for a mansion's patio exit to the gardens than a school administration building. Gently closing the doors for fear of rattling the glass, Graham turned and scanned the large open concept foyer looking for a head of light brown hair. He still wasn't quite used to the color change, but the temporary rinse was serving the purpose of making Willow less noticeable to the mass public.

The other change he'd forced her to make was in her clothing. The loose floral skirts and t-shirts with sneakers had to go. It was her trademark style and one that was unique enough to make her recognizable. Surprisingly, she suited the rather hip clothes he'd insisted she wear, her slender and trim body more feminine and mature without all the layers and loose garments obscuring it.

A grey sweater tossed over her shoulders and the simple white shirt paired with casual black pants caught his attention. Leaned against the large Roman column that acted as a roof support, Willow had her head buried in a book.

'Maybe that was the problem.' He mused with a quick flashing grin. His sweater collection was a well-known fact in the Initiative. Maybe it wasn't the girl they were seeing but the sweater! The clothes he sacrificed for good causes, plus the sheer fun of watching Willow squirm and blush as he 'remade' her to be what she wasn't for public consumption. All platonically, of course.

Ignoring Willow for the moment, he unobtrusively surveyed the large room again to determine if anyone was watching her. She'd been fortunate in that all of Tara's finals were at the most inconvenient times if she wanted to stalk Willow. Rearranging which exams she took when took a little bit of work, but they had managed to get approval and keep Willow's schedule confidential and remote.

Maintaining his vigilance, Graham shoved his hands in his pockets and casually strolled down the stairs, absently admiring the expensive marble flooring. No wonder tuition was so damn expensive! Sidestepping a student who was obviously running late, Graham slid closer to the side of the hall Willow was in. No one glanced at him or the girl as they walked by. There were only a few students sitting about in the general area, so he looked them over quickly and deemed them harmless. It looked like the pickup would go without a hitch.

"Willow." He called softly as soon as he was within three feet of her.

Her head bobbed up, eyes widening in recognition before relaxing. Snapping her book closed, she shoved it into the open school bag at her feet before slinging the strap over her shoulder and standing. Nodding her readiness, she followed behind Graham just slightly, neither saying a word.

The silence wasn't harsh or unfriendly. It also wasn't necessary. 'I'm just not a good talker.' He mused as he held the door open until Willow passed through. 'Like to watch and listen, don't need to chatter.' Surprisingly, Willow didn't seem to mind and did much the same. Unless they were deliberately talking over a subject of some importance or asking deliberate questions, they spent a great deal of their time together in a companionable silence.

When Willow did get talking, though, she babbled in a hesitant stream and then lapsed, inevitably, into silence. The strongest difference between them was that Graham would initiate conversations but Willow would prolong them. "How'd your exam go?" He asked, absently wondering if she would prolong this conversation as he spoke.

"Fine." The sweet sound of her voice had a chipper note to it, telling him that she did more than just 'fine' on the exam. "Yours?"

"Pretty good." He nodded more to himself than her, thinking over the exam and his confidence as he approached each question. "I at least got the mark I wanted, I'm sure."

"Good." Moving to walk beside him, Willow glanced around at the scattered people approaching and leaving the building. "So, do we have time to make a stop before we go…"

Graham didn't look at her. Keeping his gaze focused on the people and area around them he was more concerned about spotting Tara than he was anything else. "What kind of stop?" This was going almost too easy. Today had been the worst day to avoid Tara, there were large holes of time at which Willow was outside on campus and Tara was not in an exam or occupied. Despite Willow's assurance that the small charmed bracelet she'd woven would help her resist Tara's control,
Graham felt remarkably uneasy.

"I…finished cracking that disk, yesterday." She murmured. "I'd like to drop off the printouts to Giles, only I don't think I should go up to the house because Tara might be there and that would be…"

A flash of light hair caught Graham's eyes. Ahead but ducking behind a tree, a feminine figure slipped into his view and then out. Grabbing Willow's arm, he pulled her into his shadow and came to a stop, waiting. Sure enough, movement occurred again as a young woman leaned forward, looked around before leaning back. She was searching for something or someone and had not yet found it. "Tara." He muttered, blocking Willow's potential view of the girl.

Based on what he had seen, Tara's control became active at sighting. What Willow didn't see couldn't possibly grab hold of her. "This isn't good." He grumbled. His car was just a few hundred yards away, but either way that they approached it, Tara would see them. "We need her to…"

He almost said move, but stopped before he could jinx it. There before his eyes he saw Buffy Summers walk up beside Tara and talk to her, pulling the girl with her and walking straight towards Graham and Willow. "Shit." He spun about, grabbing Willow's arm and carefully pushing her into the shadows of a nearby tree. It was the worst possible time for the school grounds to be quiet.

Willow's green eyes were huge with panic. Even with her hair and clothes altered, her features were unmistakable to people who knew her. "She'll see us." She squeaked, understanding what Graham was trying to avoid. "How…"

"Checked her dorm but…" Tara's voice droned on just a few feet away. "So, I thought I'd see if I could spot her after her exam. Unless she's missed those. You don't think a…"

Graham slammed his mouth against Willow's, wrapping her tightly into an embrace. His massive frame dwarfing and surrounding her tiny one. Her hands pressed against his chest in an instinctive protest that ended just as abruptly. Feet scraped on the pavement behind them, pausing, and the words became clearer.

"I don't know." Buffy Summers said, as if talking to him. "I - we had a bad fight, you know. It's hard, because I think a lot of what Willow and Xander said was unfair and yet fair, so I don't know what to do. Should I go find her or talk to her…"

"I think letting her cool down was smart." Tara said.

'I bet you do.' Graham almost growled. 'Keeping the Slayer away from Willow gives you more time to work.' Sensing Willow stiffen as Tara's control tried holding her, he pulled her closer, the kiss that hid her deepening instinctively. 'Nice…' Graham felt her gasp for air, lips parting and an instinctive male part of him cashed in on the opportunity.

There was no room for Willow to think about Tara under his assault. She wasn't a bad little kisser, at that. Letting one arm brace against her back while his other hand cupped the back of her head, he gradually lost awareness of what was being said behind them.

Willow made a little tiny mewl as he kissed her, unwittingly encouraging him. It wasn't until Graham felt himself become
almost… aroused… by the contact that he began to release her, the kiss softening until it was just a tender brush of his lips
against hers.

Willow gazed up at him with startled eyes, her face flushed and mouth slightly swollen. Oh, yes, she definitely wasn't a bad kisser at all. Definitely in the top ten for his life, possibly in the top five or higher. Even his knees felt shakey and he'd been the one instituting all the action. "I think they're gone." He croaked, nervously.

"Yeah." She licked her lips, nervously. "Good cover."

"Yeah." He agreed, mesmerized by the flash of her pink tongue on her lips. "So. The car?"

*~*~*

He wasn't a soldier for nothing. He wasn't the son of a soldier for nothing, either. If there was one thing Graham Miller had then it was discipline. With his jaw set and mind firmly under control, he set off to ignore that one little indiscretion of a kiss and to move forward with the plan.

Absolutely. "So. About that information you want dropped off," he kept his tone casual unconcerned and totally relaxed. Glancing over at the girl in the car seat beside him who was staring straight ahead of her with more determination than he felt necessary, he ruefully kicked himself in the head. Damn Tara and Buffy for coming along when they did. The last thing either he or Willow needed was a complication in their tentative friendship.

Willow blinked, looking over at him in surprise. "Oh, sorry. I was thinking."

"I can see that." Graham agreed, gearing his old jeep down for a red light. "Anything I should know about?" As she raised a hand to point a turn out, he flicked his signal and paid more heed to traffic than the girl in the car with him.

"Just where I'll stay. Maybe the old ruins of the High school or… well, there's an abandoned house in the Maples, I can use it."

Graham knew the house she was thinking about, and there was no way she could stay there. Other than the fact it was riddled with rotting wood and severe damage, it was in the heart of demon-central. "You can't stay there. It's not safe." Nor was the High school any better. From all her stories, it was at the epicenter of the cause for the weirdness in Sunnydale. Besides, if this region was hit with another earthquake then entire slabs of concrete could potentially kill her.

Willow didn't say anything, but her sigh spoke volumes.

"I'm not trying to boss you around," Graham glanced at her, the apology in his tone of voice. "I just honestly know it's not a good idea. We sent one of our men into that building because of a reading and he broke his leg falling through the floor."

"I'm lighter than he could possibly be." Willow protested. "Besides, where else will I go? I can't go home. I can't join my parents wherever they are because they wouldn't understand, and I can't hide with Buffy. Even if she does want to try and work things out, Tara will find me there."

Graham frowned again, his mind agreeing one hundred percent with her logic. Sunnydale just wasn't a safe bet for her right now. "Come with me to Cape Cod." He offered suddenly. "I guarantee you Tara won't find you there, and maybe the distance will give you a chance to find a way to break the hold she has."

"It's a spell." Willow pointed out. "And I couldn't do that. It's your vacation."

Spell or hold, he still had problem with the entire concept of magic and witchcraft. Even after Willow's pointed demonstration to prove it was all very real he had a squirm factor happening. 'I got to get over that.' He mused. 'Knowing magic is real could save my life one day.'

Why couldn't it have been a nice simple brainwashing? A good old fashioned drug and hypnosis cocktail? These were things he could deal with. Unfortunately, the two doctors he'd conned into administering tests on Willow had come up with negative conclusions. If it wasn't witchcraft or some demon at play then no one knew what it possibly could be.

"So, it can be your vacation to." He countered aloud, shelving his thoughts and concerns about magic for now. There were bigger fish to fry, like how to keep Willow safely away from Tara. Distance seemed like the best sitch, and wouldn't having her in Cape Cod give him plenty of opportunities to learn more about the Slayer myth? It was perfect! Flawless! Brilliant! "You don't have to work, do you?" He suddenly blurted, the only potential flaw suddenly rattling his self-praise.

"N-no." Willow stammered. "My parents pay…"

"Good. Then it's decided. We'll drop those papers off, get you a plane ticket and then hack into the Initiative database for any indicators of coven activity." Hey, it filled up an afternoon so why not. "And actually, do you have any exams tomorrow?"

"No."

"Then we'll change the flight to leave tomorrow rather than Saturday. Nothing like leaving the state to elude your stalker." It was a plan. A solid plan, hell a great plan! What could possibly go wrong with that?

"Uh --Turn here. Right." Willow interjected. "Listen, I don't want you to…"

"Rosenberg, I can't help you if you won't help yourself." Graham smiled, liking the way this lecture was starting. "If you let Tara find you, then you won't stand a chance. Weren't you the one to say that the time spent with her leaves you feeling violated?"

Willow's sigh was exasperated. "I know what you're doing." She muttered. Her lips twisted into a grouchy pout. "And I just thought that you might want a summer without some stranger hanging around. Especially since you're going to be with your family."

Graham grinned, slowing the car down as she pointed to a house. "Stranger? Hey, I'll have you know I'm sleeping with this stranger, so how strange is that?"

"Very." Willow commented dryly. "But this is Sunnydale." She unsnapped her seatbelt, twisting around to grab her bag from the back seat, her shoulder brushing his.

The house was small, rather dainty in style. There was no car in the driveway, or signs of life through the curtain of the living room, which potentially meant no one was home. It was ideal if that were the case. The fewer people who identified him in Willow's company, the harder it was for Tara to find the redhead.

Willow spun around and flopped back into her seat, a mass of computer printouts in her hand. Quickly, she sorted through it and re-ordered it to make sense. All Graham saw as he watched her was one word to chill his soul: ADAM. "What's that?"

Willow looked up. "The encrypted file I was working on last night."

"It says something about ADAM, doesn't it?" Graham sorely wanted to grab the file and look at it. "Where…"

"You really don't want to know." Willow smiled sadly. "And, yes. It's about the 314 project Professor Walsh was running. I have the original copy on my computer. There are a set of subfiles I haven't cracked yet, but the preliminary offer enough information for Buffy to work on."

"This is for Buffy? This is her house?" Graham looked up suddenly, taking on the austere gardening of the house.

"No." Willow handed the pile of paper to him. "It's Giles' house. Her Watcher."

"Watcher?"

"Can we cover this later?" Willow pleaded with earnest eyes. "I mean, it's a long story and all about Slayers and stuff, and I'm happy to tell you everything I can, but… later."

Graham looked at the topmost paper in his hand, his stomach in knots as he read some of Walsh's notes for the Initiative's future. Demon-Human hybrids as soldiers. It was something straight out of Frankenstein. "You really want to give this to Buffy?"

Willow's small hand wrapped around his wrist. "I really do." She urged. "The Initiative has some terrific men and women, I know that. But you weren't selected by the powers of the universe to fight evil. It is not your destiny. You all don't have the sheer power and skill that Buffy does and that's why my faith is with her. She has prevented cataclysms time and time again - let her do her job against a man-made disaster now. Please?"

Well. He was on leave for the next three months… if the situation were still unresolved upon his return to Sunnydale then he would get involved. Glancing at the earnest green eyes and seeing the truth and conviction in them, he nodded concurrence. "Alright. We'll do it your way." Before she could protest, he slipped from the car and walked up the driveway.

The papers rolled into a tube, Graham forced himself to knock on the door. All his instincts as a soldier said to take this classified information and run, but for Willow and her faith he'd hand it over. 'No one's home, darn, huh?' Graham shifted his weight to his heel, about to turn around when he heard the lock shift. 'Damn.'

"Hullo? Can I help you?" An older man, perhaps mid forties, peered up at Graham through wire-rimmed glasses. His hair a little rumpled the man had the look of a researcher from one of the deeper bowels of the Initiative complex. The same pale face and curiously watered eyes marked him as it did all the other researchers. Did they never get outside to see the sun?

"Here." Graham shoved the documents at the man. "I'm assuming you're Mr. Giles, the Slayer's Watcher." The question was made a statement by the weight of confident authority in Graham's voice.

Mr. Giles blinked, his face shifting through several expressions of surprise, concern and then the worst poker expression Graham had ever seen. "The what? I beg your pardon?"

"Slayer. Buffy. Willow wanted to give you these, so here." As Graham let go of the paper and turned about, he had the distinct pleasure of hearing the man splutter as he tried to capture the loose papers.

"Wait." Mr. Giles called out. "You know Willow? Do you know where she is?"

"Yes." Graham paused, "I do. And, she's fine."

"But where… no one has heard from her in several days."

Graham turned around, his face grave. "Then maybe someone should have tried to call her first."

Part Four

"Mom." Graham protested, rolling his eyes at her dramatics. "I'll take the garbage out later, honestly."

Denise Miller sniffed, setting hands on her hips indignantly. "Graham Scott Miller, if you think I believe for one moment that you'll actually remember to take the trash out, then you're a fool. I raised you, you know."

Graham locked his jaw and squared his shoulders. This was worse than any dressing down the Colonel or Professor Walsh had handed out. Maybe if it had been just his mother and himself in the room he'd have been okay, but with Willow sitting quietly at the kitchen table he knew it was all he could do not to blush. Mother's were naturally gifted in humiliating their children. "I'll take it out." He caved glumly, slumping in defeat but acknowledging the victorious glint in his Mom's
blue eyes.

"Good." Deftly, Dense twisted the full bag of kitchen trash from the container, holding the opening in a gathered cluster in one hand and using the other hand to spin the bag. "And be sure to put the lid on the can."

"I'm not ten, Mom." Graham muttered, taking the bag with a grimace. Why hadn't Beth inherited this chore? He'd been home less than two days and already his chores had resumed. Ick.

Shouldering the screen door open, he walked barefoot into the backyard. The old crabapple tree was even bigger than he remembered but the beds of flowers were exactly as he recalled. 'Shrubs need trimming.' He thought, glancing at the small bushes and visualizing his father reshaping the various trees, shrubs and bushes with meticulous care. He could still see the silvered hair glinting in morning sunlight and the strong arms tensing and relaxing with every snip. 'Maybe I'll do that this morning.'

Tossing the garbage into the can, he dutifully placed a brick on top of the aluminum lid to secure it. Having a raccoon dig through the garbage wasn't something he wanted. Not that he objected to scavengers, per se. They were a part of nature. He objected to cleaning up the mess. Wiping his hands on his cut-off jeans, Graham wandered back to the kitchen door, flexing his toes on the rough patio stone walkway and marveling at the texture. The feel of cool rough stone against flesh
wasn't something he could experience wearing combat gear.

"Done, Mom." He announced, wincing to see Denise sitting across from Willow with a coffee in her hands. She'd been grilling Willow again about the state of their nation. Meaning, whether the little redhead was involved with her son or not. 'Noisy, Mom. Can't take my word for anything can you?'

"That's nice, dear. Wash your hands." Denise dismissed him without even glancing his way, her brown eyes studying the girl across from her with a deceptive casualness. "Willow and I were just making plans for today."

"Oh, goody." Graham muttered, grabbing a mug off the dish-rack and reaching for the pot of coffee sitting on the warmer. "Bury me some more, Mom."

"What was that, Graham? Don't mumble."

Graham froze, accidentally pouring more cream than he wanted into his coffee. "Uh. I said I'm going to do the hedges today, Mom." Well, he was planning to, so going public wasn't a bad idea.

"That would awfully nice, honey. Thank you." Denise set her mug down, not really paying any attention to her son. The young woman he'd brought home with him was far more fascinating. The sweet solemn expression on Willow's face as her eyes nervously darted from Graham to his mother was endearing. "Have some more, Willow." She urged the girl, pushing the salad bowl of fresh cut fruit towards the girl. "You're just too thin."

Graham snorted, setting his mug down and pulling a chair out for himself. "Willow's just fine as she is, Mom. You just think everyone's too thin." Willow blushed lightly, he noticed with a concealed grin. The attention was good for her. He doubted her own parents had ever pampered her the way his mother was. "You going to eat more?"

Willow shook her head gently. "No, I'm full." The voice was soft, gentle but not shy. Just quiet. She really was like he was, only speaking when there was something she really wanted to say.

Reaching out, he grabbed her bowl and slid it across the table to him but lifting the spoon resting inside out and setting it on the table. "Cool."

"Graham, don't you…"

He grinned nastily at his mother as he dumped a load of the fruit salad into the bowl and then lifted his coffee spoon, licking it off before inserting it into the fresh fruit. "Don't what, Mom?"

Denise sighed, looking to the ceiling as if pleading for patience. "Did the army teach you no manners?"

"Recycling, Mom. Water conservation too." He mumbled, shoveling fruit into his mouth but blessing Willow with a sly wink and being rewarded with a soft giggle. "Why wash two dishes when one is all we need."

"Hygiene dear." Denise tapped her spoon on Graham's right hand that lay flat on the table alongside the bowl, her lips thin and disapproving.

"Are you implying Willow has germs, Mom?" Blue eyes were widely ingenious. "And I thought you liked her!" Hunched over the table in an old rough blue jersey he knew he looked exactly like a teenager once again. Teasing his mother had been such fun then and oddly enough, it still was a great deal of entertainment now. Little boys really didn't grow up, after all.

"Graham." Willow shook her head. "Don't pick on your mother." The warm smile she shared weakened the scolding but brightened the room noticeably. Her bright red hair was pulled up into a pony-tail, a loose summer style that accentuated the delicate lines of her features. Paired with the white tank top and casual shorts, she was radiantly beautiful. Not even away for a full week and she looked immensely better. Far more relaxed than ever he'd seen before.

"I always pick on my mother, Wills." Graham grinned, eyes sparkling mischievously. "And since she's pumping you for info, I'll let you pick on her too." Tilting his head to one side, he gave his mother the evil-eye letting her know that he was well aware of what she was up to.

Really. He didn't know where his mom was getting these ideas. Just because he brought a very pretty girl who was relatively close to his own age across the country and home for summer vacation didn't mean something was necessarily going on between them. Well… something was, but it was a friendship something. A you-help-me and I'll-help-you type of friendship. No kissy-intimacy or snuggles. Even if Willow kisses were soul melting.

"Would I do that?" Denise finished her coffee and gathered up the empty dishes on the table. "Just because you and Willow are pretending not to be involved doesn't mean that I don't know what's going on. Just keep
your secrets, dear. I'll find out…"

"Oh!" Willow hastily broke in, blushing. "There's no secrets. Nope. None here." Hands waved the concept off like it was a nasty dust-cloud.

Graham chuckled softly, but kept right on eating. Lifting the bowl, he drained it of the remaining juices, ignoring his mother's shriek and Willow's soft laughter. "Ah, good to the last drop, Mom." He grinned at her, reaching over to stack his bowl with the others before lifting all the dishes up and scooting over to the sink.

The trick to life in the Miller family was that he who washed the dishes did not have to finish cleaning the kitchen. After years away from home, ingrained habits still manifested and he hastily started the process that would free him of further household duties. Reefing the faucet, Graham yelped as burning hot water hit his hand instantly scalding him. "Ahhh!"

He jerked his hand back, cradling it instinctively and protectively. Mindless of the world around him in the instant of the flashing pain, he was startled when Willow's hand covered his, lifting it from his chest as she simultaneously shut the faucet off. "What have you done." She sighed, standing close and examining his hand.

"Burned it." Denise muttered grimly as if to point out how his rushing about caused him to foolishly hurt himself. Swinging a hip into Graham's side she pushing the younger pair of adults away from the sink and took over the chore. "There's ointment in the medical cabinet and bandages. You'd better treat it before it can blister." Face intent, she glanced once at the hand folded gently between Willow's own hands and she smiled as only a mother could when she saw her child be tended to with loving concern.

"Don't move." Willow muttered, when Graham shifted his weight to go to the bathroom as per Denise's instructions. Pulling him until his back faced his mother, she focused in on his wounded hand. "I'm busy."

'Holding my hand? Could she do that when it's not hurting so much?' Graham watched her, his breath short and tight with the knot of tension in his chest. The throb in his hand felt like an endless agony. The burn was blistering or it would. The skin felt torn, enflamed and absolutely horrible even though the actual flesh damaged only on the heel of the palm, but feeling as if it were the whole hand. He was just grateful the water hadn't splashed along the inside of his wrist. "But.."

Willow's lips moved silently, her green eyes almost glowing as she stared at the reddened flesh. Her thumb stroked over the flesh of his hand with an infinite tenderness neither causing pain or pleasure but reassuring him all the same. A warm golden light seemed to blossom from her hands, sliding over his hand like the glow of treasure exposed to daylight. Graham swallowed hard, his understanding blossoming and amazement swelling to feel the power touching his body so directly. Magic.

The scalding heat of the burn became dwarfed by a the golden light. A sweet cooling sensation caressed his skin with each stroke of Willow's finger over his wounded palm. The light spread out over him, coating his hand and then sunk into his flesh freezing with an intensity beyond any measure of pain or pleasure. 'Ice!' The thought spun frantically through his mind, and he almost wrenched his digits from Willow's grip before frostbite could consume his entire arm when suddenly there was nothing. No pain, no discomfort nothing but the sensation of cool hands about his own. "Oh Wow." He muttered eyes widening to study his sudden healed hand with wonderment.

Willow released him, standing back with a shy little smile lighting her face. A kind of quiet pride that her quickly wrought spell could work so successfully. "Is that better?" She kept her voice quiet, not really wanting to explain to Denise what had just happened.

"I'll say." Graham held the hand up and inspected his palm, poking at the flesh with his other hand. "That was amazing… how?"

She shrugged slightly, turning away as a tide of red crept up her neck. "Oh, just something I learned a little while ago. Never tried that before." The awkwardness swept her over, first manifesting in a little nervous fidget and darting eyes before it won her completely. Biting her lip just a little, she nodded to him once and retreated down the hall and up the stairs in a near run.

"Just… wow." Graham muttered, still rubbing at the newly healed flesh before glancing at his mom and catching her blatant curiosity. "Ah.. funky new age techniques of pain management. You know?" The answer was more of a question than not, an attempt to see if his mom would buy it.

Denise snorted, flicking a mass of bubbles from the now full sink of dishwater at her younger son. "I wasn't born yesterday, Graham." Her voice had an arch tone to it. A kind of verbal jab. "Go chase after your girlfriend and thank her properly."

"She's not…" Graham rolled his eyes for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day… even though he'd only been up for an hour. "Ah.. whatever." Escaping the house and getting down to the beach was probably best accomplished now. Scooting down the hall and up the stairs after Willow, he knocked sharply on her door before turning the handle.

Sitting barefoot and in lotus position on her bed, her head bobbed up in surprise as he walked in. The shy pride had receded and uncertainty was now dominant in her eyes. Her lower lip was going to swollen if she didn't stop biting it, Graham noted his eyes darkening as he watched her. There were easier ways to bruise that flesh than to cut into it
with her teeth.

"Hey." He smiled reassuringly. "Thanks. That was absolutely amazing!" Something about giving displays of her abilities always rattled her. Graham just hoped it wasn't his reactions. Sure, the entire idea had freaked him at first. He was really fond of the see and touch school of reality, but the more he thought about Wiccan magic and learned about Willow and how she applied it the more intrigued he was. 'Man, if she could heal a burn like this, think what she could do for people actually wounded on duty?'

The applications were virtually limitless. Why not take something so potentially benign and put it to good practical use? "Would… I mean, could you teach me how to do something like that?" What if it was outside his ability, maybe you had to have a certain something in your personality to be a witch or do magic.

Willow's astonishment at his question was apparent, her green eyes wide and jaw open. "You want to learn… witchcraft?" The squeak in her voice made him smile indulgently.

"Well… not everything. Not yet. But, it couldn't hurt to know how to do things that protect myself and others. Like… didn't you say a circle could protect me from magic if assaulted, or that I could uninvite vampires from the house with a spell?"

Willow nodded hesitantly. Stray strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail were wisps gently caressing the side of her face. "Yeah." Her soft voice dropped. "Only… I think you have to believe for it to work and you don't. Maybe."

Crossing the room to sit beside her, Graham dropped his hands onto his thighs and blew a gust of weary air. "I think I might believe." He admitted. "I've seen so much this year. If I can believe in vampires, demons and ghosts… why not magic?"

A smile flitted across her lips, an odd little memory haunting her and then sliding away to the back of her mind. Still, he'd seen it there for just a moment, and his ever burning yearning for her stories about her adolescence rose again. "What? What did I say?"

"Ghosts." Willow smiled shyly, eyes glowing. "Did I tell you about the time I died and was a ghost?"

Died? Graham's breath caught, throat tight. This was story she'd forgotten to tell him. Good God, what other horrors were buried in her childhood? "You died?"

"Sort of." Willow conceded.

How did someone sort of die? That was like a girl saying she was "sort of " pregnant. You either were, or weren't. Face twisting into a grimace, he arched an eyebrow requesting an explanation. "Sort of?"

Willow cocked her head sideways, nodding to the door. "It's a really long story, Graham. I - I thought you wanted to go for a run today." Pushing some of the stray wisps of hair out of her eyes, there was an openness in her eyes that promised a full story but not right now.

There was clearly something about this story she wasn't comfortable with. God, with all she and the Slayer's little group had lived through, how could there be something that made her uneasy? The idea that there was something even worse than an ex-demon as a boyfriend, or fish-men for a swim-team gave him the creeps.

"Come with me, tell me after my run." Graham offered, extended a hand, the newly healed one to her. "We'll sit on the beach and just talk." Her fascination with the east coast beach bemused him. Yesterday he'd taken her to Yarmouth's Sea Gull Beach and lost her to the sheer wonderment. The unvoiced glee in her face as she explored the shore, walking up and down the sandy shore with water splashing on her ankles as she sought various shapes and sizes of sea-shells.

Apparently, this was her first trip to the east coast and she approached it with a childlike wonder and innocence that was almost painful to watch. 'I bet she's never been to Florida, or Disney Land much less Disney World.' Maybe over Christmas break he could convince her to take a trip to Florida. 'Put the carriage ahead of the horse, why don't you,
Graham. She won't need you around by then.'

Willow's fingers touched his hand, chasing away the sour thoughts. Pulling her up, he threw a friendly arm around her shoulder. "Hey… I know, after I get the ghost story, we'll go to the Weather Store after and find you a dowsing rod. Then you can try and find a beach in the backyard."

*~*~*~*

Bending over sharply, Graham wrapped an arm about his midsection as the burning of his lungs caught his breath. 'Should.. have… brought…water.' He thought mid gasps. Throwing his head back, he inhaled deeply with his nose and blew out a low gust. 'Wow.' Either two days of vacation was detrimental to his regular regimen or he was coming down with something. A forty-minute run had never winded him like this before! 'I better not be coming down with anything… wanta see Kevin tonight.'

Given that Kevin was his newborn infant nephew, visiting as a walking germ was not a wise thing to do. After everything else Kevin had been through to survive thus far it wasn't fair to jeopardize the tiny baby's health further.

Gradually, his breathing eased and the knots in his chest loosened until he could stand straight without feeling like his knees were turning into an elastic jelly. "Brutal." He sighed, walking slowly up the beach. "Just brutal."

It was midmorning, and although it was the end of May, tourists were already clustered in lumps along the beach. The weather was nice but not warm enough for swimming or sun-bathing. Some people, he noted with a twisted smile, were desperate enough to try or they had a need to wear string-bikinis at the first opportunity. 'Why is it always women with a
little too much flesh wear the skimpiest swim suits?' The rhetorical question had always bothered him. Young children could be traumatized by some of the outfits people wore to the various beaches along the Cape.

Conversely, women who could wear the more scanty swimsuits didn't. Willow wore a very conservative one-piece, when the new funky 'Tankini's' would suit her marvelously. Not that he thought about it or pictured it, of course. It was just an obvious fact that his sister Beth had deliberately pointed out, detailing precisely how it would look on the older girl much to Willow's dismay and Graham's discomfort.

His family REALLY had it out for him.

If Darren weren't already married to Sandra and if Beth wasn't just sixteen, he'd be doing his damn best to turn the tables on them. However, since he was only twenty-two and terribly single, his family had targeted him with a vengeance. 'Mom's loving this.'

Graham sighed, flexing his toes in the sand. Running barefoot wasn't the safest thing on muscles, but it sure was a nice feel. Walking, though, was even better. Some of the allure walking up and down the shore exploring the fine line between tide and sand was understandable. The feel of sun on the body, water against the ankles and sand below bare feet at a sensual appeal to the senses of touch, sound and smell. The feel of sand, sound of kids and smell of water all drew in and consumed the senses. All that was left to experience was touch. "Also known as lunch." Graham rubbed his stomach as it growled.

Squinting into the sun-bright beach, he sought out Willow's lithe figure, knowing the glowing white of her knit sleeveless top and shorts should stand out boldly against her red hair. Kicking her feet in the water to spray up droplets of water, she stared defiantly out to the rough waves creeping up to the shore.

She was a fiery Goddess facing down Neptune before his eyes. Hands indignantly on hips, he could see the squint in her eyes and resolved expression on her face as the water stole more and more of her shoreline. Even with the distance between them, Graham saw her indignant sniff combined with another kick at the nasty water and a bark
of laughter escaped him.

Bright green eyes pinned him as her head turned his direction, stifling the laughter but drawing a grin at the petulance in her expression. There was a child lurking in Willow that escaped every now and then when no one was looking. A small irreverent and willful little girl with a fiery temper and indomitable spirit who sneaked out to kick up chaos.
God, wasn't she cute?

"Is the big bad water messing with you fun?" He called teasingly.

"Shouldn't you be running?" Willow stomped her foot, splashing her leg since the water had climbed higher. She looked down at her feet in dismay, sand crusting up her calves.

"Tides rising." Graham noted, still a good twenty-feet from her.

She nodded, looking out to the water and then up. Willow's mouth opened to say something else, but the words choked as a silent scream ripped through her. Body suddenly arching as if in intense agony, just like a demon under a tazer blast, Graham watched her knees buckle and body fall forward as unconsciousness claimed her.

"Willow!" Forgetting the fatigue in his body and the pain in his knees, he launched into a run, barely catching her body before she slid facedown into the water from her knees. "Willow." Rolling her over to see her face, he pressed fingers to her throat searching for a pulse and finding it to be overly rapid. The slender body in his arms was still spasming as if under continuous assault. Hastily scooping her up, he moved away from the water and found a dry area of sand to lay her back on. "Come on, come on." He muttered, rubbing at her hand furiously. "Wake up, Red. Don't fade on me now."

Her eyes were moving frantically behind closed lids as if in a REM state, though based on the convultions still tearing through her body, Graham doubted she was dreaming. 'What's happening to her?' Blue eyes narrowed as he looked her over for any site of bites or stings that could attribute to a histamine reaction. Nothing. Hands running over her feet and ankles found no contusions, no bites, no signs of any trauma. "Willow, wake up. You've got to tell me what's going on." He pleaded, reaching for her arms.

Willow's hands fell limply, the palm curled towards her body but the flash of red caught his attention all the same. Horror swept through him as he turned the hand over exposing the bloody pentagram that was burning itself into her hand. Magic. Witchcraft. 'Is this a price?' He couldn't believe that after the benign gentle experience of magic she had wrought on his behalf. Which, of course meant something else. 'Tara. Tara's doing this to her.'

"Willow." He pleaded, gently striking her face to rouse her. "Come on, sweetheart. Wake up and talk to me. I need your help." Her breathing was a little too rapid for his peace of mind. "Willow, help me, please. I can't do this alone."

"Grr-ahm." She didn't open her eyes, but her lips moved to release the sound laden heavily with pain. "C-c-cov'n. Hur-hurt."

It wasn't Tara, but a coven, a Wiccan coven? That really didn't tell him how to help her. 'Think, Miller. If you were on base, what would you do?'

Nothing. The afflicted would be taken to a hospital for suspected seizures. Well, there was no help there. So, what else did he know. 'Circles! A circle will protect…' And what better ground to etch a circle than the beach?

Laying her down in the sand, he found a nearby shell and looked about for an audience. No one was around and it didn't seem that anyone had noticed the drama happening in their little corner of the beach. Dropping to his knees, he carefully etched a large circle out, praying under his breath to Willow's Lord and Lady that they interfere on the young witch's behalf as he did so. It wasn't a perfect circle, but he hoped it would do as he joined the two ends and then sat down to watch Willow for any sign of change.

"Please…" He muttered, dropping the shell. Rocking back on his heels, he dropped his hands to the sand and winced as the shell bit into flesh, drawing blood. "Help her."

He had felt power this morning in his mother's kitchen. A warm gentle glowing type of power that had taken the burn from his wound and healed his flesh with benevolence. In comparison to the power he felt stirring now, that had been a few drops of a spring rainfall in comparison to a waterfall flooding down now. It ripped through him, nearly felling him on top of Willow for it's intensity. If he'd thought the power this morning was shattering, it didn't even begin to describe what he felt
now. It was life, it was death and it was eternity of rebirths.

His soul was enflamed with a radiance that brought tears to his eyes for the sheer joy of being, yet it was so consuming that it tore his mortal flesh apart. This was the orgasm of soul, not of body. This was the moment of creation redefined for him. Never again would he not believe in a higher power, and never again would his faith in good versus evil waver.

This morning he had felt the touch of a witch's God and Goddess. Now, he was meeting them in person.

The wave of power flowed over him, through him and in him and then onto Willow. Her body arched once, perfectly as if in the final throes of ecstasy, her green eyes snapped open and burned incandescently with the same glow of a cat's eye in the dark of the night. Lips parted in a shout that Graham could not hear and she opened her arms to receive the kiss of her Gods.

Just as in a hurricane, the eye passed over them and silence became overwhelming. On his hands and knees, Graham heard his own raspy breathing, deep gasps of air combined with grunts as his senses slowly realigned. "Uh. Uh. Uh." Head bent, he only knew the feel and limits of his own body.

"What." Willow's gasp made him look up, startled to realize someone else was with him. "Did. You. Do." She swallowed, apparently hard given the contortion of her jaw and throat. Rolling over to her stomach, she pushed herself up to her knees, until she was face to face with Graham.

"Circle" He wheezed. "I - you - I did a circle in the sand. To - it - stopped the convulsions."

Willow shook her head, licking her lips as she reached towards him. Wordlessly, Graham lifted himself up until he sat on his heels and held his arms to her. She fell into his embrace, forehead resting on his shoulder-blade. "You… the Goddess. You summoned the Goddess. How?"

Graham closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around her, his body still reacting to the overload of power. Gradually, though, oh so slowly, his breathing eased and muscles relaxed. "I don't know." He breathed. "I kept praying that something would help you. I just wanted to help you."

Willow laughed, a funny sound for the wheeze in it. "Oh, Goddess… next time you ask something to help, be specific about how much help you want, please. You really do believe in bringing out the big guns, don't you?"

"I'm a soldier, Willow. We always go into a situation packing." Graham's laugh was slightly tinged with giddiness. What a trip! He held her gently against him, reassured by the sound of her breathing and the movement of her back against him with each intake and exhale of air.

It was a timeless moment that was disrupted when Willow pulled away, sinking down to sit in front of him, her forearms braced on knees so support her head. "Oh… wow." She sighed, tilting her head back and closing her eyes.

Graham had to agree, he felt like he'd been hit by a lightening bolt. It was exhilarating and draining at the same time. "What was that?" He asked, shaking his head to clarify when he saw the amusement on her face. "No. What I mean is, what happened to you? What set that off?"

"It's a new moon tonight." Willow sighed. "I guess Tara's coven decided to pull in their markers since they didn't know where I was. At least I know what she wanted me for, now."

"Oh?" Graham matched her for position, folding his legs to sit cross-legged on the sand. He should have made the circle bigger, he really wanted to flop onto his back in the sand and just stay there for a few weeks. Maybe months. Unless he had a miraculous recovery, he wasn't sure he could walk back to the car much less drive!

Willow licked her lips, heaving one last sigh. "Yeah. At least we know it wasn't for my stunning looks, now." She laughed self-consciously, demeaning herself without bitterness.

Graham winced at the sound, hearing in it the low self-esteem Willow held for herself. "Willow…" Her name held a soft scolding in it.

"Gods." She crumpled forward, searching for inner strength. "I… I don't think I'm the first witch they've done this too." She sighed. "I think they hunt a newcomer to the pagan group every year, someone with potential and then sink their claws in."

"Why?" Graham couldn't stand the suspense, but understood her need to flesh out the idea, she needed to understand what was happening to her. "Why are they doing this?"

"Magical energy." Willow sighed. "They were draining me of my potential and ability, sucking the magical energy from me." She looked up, eyes glistening with tears. "They were stealing my life energy and my soul."

Part Five
Feedback inspires further parts sooner... really! :)
~Anya
amclerie@globalserve.net

Willow touched his arm gently, her fingers sliding around his shoulder and squeezing with a soft touch he barely sensed. "Are you okay?" She whispered, a tiny frown marring her features. "You're not with us here."

Graham smiled slightly, nodding once to his mother before turning to Willow. "I'm fine." He kept his voice light and expression openly reassuring. Nothing was really bothering him, he just felt… distracted. 'It's been a busy day, psychic assaults, Gods and Goddesses and then Darren and his antics…' Hopefully the rest of the summer wasn't going to be as hectic as today had been.

Was it only six hours ago that Willow had been attacked by sorcery? He felt like Sunnydale Denial Syndrome was sinking in, it was all so surreal. Yet, after the torrent of magical energy that had ripped through his body as it reached for Willow, his distraction and spaciness seemed reasonable. Didn't it?

Except to Darren who had walked into the guestroom and found both Graham and Willow passed out on the bed, unfortunately together. 'I honestly didn't mean to just drop there… but I couldn't get down the hall. Too hard!' Besides, the guestroom had the nicer bed.

So, sprawled together on the bed, Darren just had to walk in to announce the dinner tonight. Fate was definitely out to get them, it seemed. It wasn't like they could be in a more awkward situation. "Darren just woke me up too soon." Graham finished, raising his voice to let Darren know the blame for his mood was all on Darren's broad and nosy shoulders.

"Diddums need a nappy-poo?" Darren teased, bright blue eyes sparkling with good humor and mischief. "What WERE you and Willow doing today that left you so exhausted, baby brother?"

"Running." The amused looks passing between his family really didn't titillate Graham. Willow had enough issues without his family starting up on her tonight. It wasn't every day a wiccan found out their alleged friend was trying to suck their soul dry, after all. Add to that the fact her parents had even called to check on her, her friends had gone to ground and she'd gotten a A- on her final term essay for C++ programming, well… it wasn't being a good day for further gibes and teasing.

"Is that what you call it now." Beth murmured quietly, receiving baby Kevin from her sister-in-law. "We have a different name for it at school." Bent over the baby, long blond hair obscured her face and shielded her from Graham's glare.

"Jogging, then." Graham growled. "Leave off, would you."

Again, Willow reached out to gently squeeze his shoulder. "Oh,ignore them Graham. It's my fault they're teasing you." She sighed. "If I hadn't twisted my ankle, you wouldn't have stuck around to make sure the swelling went down and you wouldn't have fallen asleep in my room."

Expressions around the small reception area for the restaurant fell dismally under that sly guilt trip. Graham shot Willow an unabashed grin, impressed with the simple creativity. It was a great cover, too, for their general fatigue and stress. After an hour on the sand, recovering from the mischief and mayhem Graham had accidentally wrought in the loose circle he'd inscribed with nothing more than a shell, they'd struggled back to the car.

Willow had fallen asleep on the brief drive back to the house, leaving Graham to carry her up the stairs. His mother had seen him carrying her, but not the condition she was in. Rather fortunate, that, since the gray pallor of her skin combined with his own whiteness would have freaked Denise right out.

"You hurt your ankle?" Beth squeaked, head bobbing up. Tiny Kevin was asleep and completely unconcerned by the voices around him. "Is it okay now?"

"Uh huh." Willow leaned back against the pillar, standing at Graham's right. He'd taken the last spot on the bench when Sandra had passed the baby to him. This was Kevin's first night with the family, his release from the hospital the cause of this celebration. Sandra had spent the morning at her parents so that they could bond with the baby, and now it was the Miller family's turn to all bond with the tiny newcomer to their fold. "Graham iced it up. Wasn't a bad sprain, just hurt awfully at first."

"Graham iced it, huh?" Darren grinned, folding arms over his chest. Smirking once, he gulped air when his wife elbowed him in the stomach. "Gee, where is the maitre'd?" A round of laughter followed that change of subject.

Leaning back into the hard wooden bench, Graham let his eyes wander over to his sister and his nephew. The tiny fluffs of hair on the baby's head, peeking out from the blanket that shrouded him, were as thin and fine as gossamer. When he'd held the baby, he couldn't help but marvel at how tiny a creature little Kevin was. Easily held in his entirety within Graham's two hands. Of course, since Kevin was also heartbreakingly premature and had spent six weeks in a hospital until his under-developed lungs had been able to support him, his slight size was understandable. He was seven weeks old as of next Friday, but Sandra's due date for him was still six weeks away.

'I should have been here for them, for Darren.' The guilt resurfaced anew as he stared at the small bundle in Beth's arms. 'Even if only by phone call or email, they should have been able to talk to me. God, what if Kevin hadn't made it? I'd never have forgiven myself and I'd never have seen my own nephew because I was too damn wrapped up with the Initiative.'

Things were going to change, that was for damn sure. When he got back to school he was going to make sure that the Colonel and his own new commanding officer understood that family came first. 'I still don't get how I could let them slide? Why did I even start ignoring them?'

For that matter, it had been three years since his last game of basketball. Darren had whipped his ass on the driveway yesterday, during a one-on-one; he was so grossly out of practice. Yet, he'd been the star player on his high-school team. Basketball was his panacea to all stress, a way of blowing off steam and working his body out at the same time. Letting that go seemed so wrong, so very unlike him, and yet he had done just that.

There was absolutely nothing in his life outside of class and the Initiative. Even his friends, with the exception of Willow who was a recent addition, were Initiative agents. It was a cold sterile life, and one he no longer wanted. 'Even if it costs me my commission.'

"Graham?" Willow's voice again jolted him. "The table is waiting?"

The haze in front of his eyes cleared, and he realized his family had already left. "Oh. Sorry." Quickly standing up, he set a hand to the small of Willow's back. "Shall we?"

Willow led the way, weaving through the narrow aisles of tables and squeezing out of the way of various waiters. Up ahead, he could see his mother and Sandra taking their seats around a nice rectangular table, an extra place at the end of the table near the wall denoted for Kevin's carrier.

"Are you absolutely sure you're okay?" Willow murmured again in a low voice before the reached the table. "You're really out of it tonight, and I'm worried that maybe something bad happened to you during…"

"I'm fine." Graham insisted. Other than exhausted after the visitation from her Gods, he felt utterly exhilarated within the
depths of his soul from the experience. "Nothing's broken, and other than really tired, I don't think that little cosmic party did any damage."

Her concern was touching, but since she had been the one receiving the assault and then the overwhelming power of her Goddess, it was misguided. "Could something like what happened in that circle really hurt someone? Or change them into…"

"A demon? No. Change them, though, I don't know. Maybe blow out a few mental fuses, but not rearrange and alter a personality." Willow's voice took on a thoughtful tone, and while Graham couldn't see her face he knew her eyes would get a distant look as she unraveled the possibilities of that concept.

"Well, we won't try that again tomorrow." He finished firmly as they reached the table. Holding out a chair for her, he took a seat on the other side, away from Darren's chair. Sandra, his sister-in-law and his mother were infinitely more appealing seatmates than his brother and sister were. Besides, he was closer to Kevin this way.

"Try what tomorrow?" Beth's eyes, the trademark Miller blue, sparkled like diamonds. Still young at sixteen, she was the family imp more than Darren could ever be. Always finding a way to create a stir, she was trouble incarnate but still a much-loved source of mischief.

Slight and still tomboyish when he left for college, she was slender and very feminine now. Long blond hair, fair skin and a lithe body, it didn't surprise Graham that she was never home and yet had the bulk of phone calls to the house.

Darren really wasn't doing his big-brother job well and scaring off potential suitors, it seemed. "Jogging, of course." He answered her banally. "No jogging for Willow, tomorrow. She's just lucky I was there."

"Oh, of course." Beth giggled. "And that you were there to cuddle her all better. Did you kiss her ankle better to? Not that I understand why she'd want you to, but there is no accounting for taste, I guess."

"Beth." Her mother scolded her. "We like Willow. There's no picking on her just to get at your brother."

"That ups the ante." Darren muttered, lifting a menu and hiding his face behind it.

Graham shook his head ruefully, looking to the ceiling of the restaurant. The colorful murals were entertaining but there was no divine answer to explain why he was so fortunate to have the love and kindness of a family like this. "I should have stayed in SoCal."

Willow snorted, covering it by lifting her glass of water. The camaraderie around the table was fun and despite the teasing that persisted, relaxing. Graham had sorely missed this in the past few years and yet never realized that this was what was missing in his life.

'Willow must find this weird.' He mused, setting down his menu and reaching for a fork to fiddle with. The banter passed by, he heard it but gave it no heed. Being the quiet one wasn't just something he'd done in the Initiative. He'd always been quiet, replying only when he had a real zinger to throw back at Darren or an answer to a direct question. Listening was so much more enjoyable as was observing the people around him.

The Millers, he recognized, were a lively bunch. Military discipline hadn't really overrun their life. Their father had been their father first and foremost and a member of the Armed Forces second to that. His career had never been part of his family life. 'I wish I could tell Dad now how much I appreciate that.' David Miller had died of a massive coronary the year before Graham had left for College.

"Graham, are you alright?" His mother's tone was sharp, commanding and it grabbed Graham's wandering mind immediately. Brown eyes, the only brown eyes in the family for all that brown wasn't a recessive gene, held love, concern and alarm.

"Fine, Mom… why is everyone asking me that tonight?" The whine he hadn't wanted in his voice came through all the same.

"Your hand, Graham." Willow's murmur was soft; her green eyes fixed on the hand fiddling with cutlery.

Graham followed her gaze to his hand, his breath catching in surprise. His hand was shaking. Violent trembles rattled the cutlery, trembles he was unaware of. Swallowing hard and very confused at his lack of awareness to his body's actions and reactions he carefully set the fork down and splayed his hand flat on the table. "I…"

"When did you last take your vitamins, Graham." Willow breathed, her face intent, eyes sliding from his hand to his face. The green eyes measured his face as if he were nothing more than a clock, or computer readout. It wasn't his features she was measuring, no recognition for who he was laced in that bright gaze.

"This morning." Graham looked away, back down at his hand. It wasn't moving, but… "Am I still shaking?" He asked, looking at his mother. Beth, Darren and Sandra all watched him intently, astonishment and worry on their features.

"No… yes." Just as a mother would a small child, Denise reached out and put a hand to his forehead. A startled hiss escaped her as she drew her hand back and touched his face again. "Oh, God. You have a temperature."

"Your vitamins from… back home?" Willow persisted, rising from her chair to approach him. Just like Denise, she touched his forehead, then the back of his neck. "You're feverish." She muttered, wiping her hand on her skirt.

Graham stroked the back of his neck, the hair wet and skin clammy to the touch. "No. I had to buy new vits." Graham tried to focus his thoughts on possible causes. He felt fine, just out of it. Nothing bad. "I forgot the other ones back home when I was packing."

There was nothing except this morning's little power-fest to explain what was happening… how could vitamins affect him? That didn't make sense. Vitamins were vitamins, nothing more. Willow's pet theory on how the Initiative was tampering medically and biologically with their agents was just wrong. Creative but fictional. ADAM was a fluke, not the norm. Walsh had been nuts, completely out of her mind devising that project, but she wouldn't have tampered with her
operatives. She wouldn't have played God with their lives she had respected them. Needed them. Didn't she?

'Riley.' His mind whispered, 'Riley was like this… before….'A shiver rippled through him, not from the thought but as a sudden profound chill set in. "I don't feel good." He muttered, looking up to his mother. Spots began to form in his vision and his heart constricted with panic. What was happening to him?

Willow's arm slipped under his as his body tilted forward, pulling him back. "Help me." She commanded Darren. "Let's get him to the car and home. His temperature's really rising."

"What's causing this?" Denise blurted, half rising from her chair. "Is it this morning?"

Willow flinched, but her interpretation of 'this morning' was different from Denise's. Besides, what did she know? "No… I
think Graham's experiencing withdrawal from the drugs that the Initiative has been feeding their people." The words were spat out venomously, much to Graham's surprise. Even wavering in his consciousness, he could hear the intensity of Willow's disgust forhis employers and he wanted to object, but the ghost of Riley's haggard face haunted him.

"Drugs!" Alarm was wildfire around the table, as everyone rose up.

"No." Darren's voice overwhelmed the sudden clatter of noise that dizzied Graham. "Willow and I will take him back. You'll stay here and have dinner. I'll be back as soon as Graham is settled in. We can't all help him…"

"Darren, I'm his mother…"

"Stay." The word took all his energy to utter. Standing now, with Darren holding up one side and Willow wormed beneath his other arm. Her arm wound itself around his waist so that she could support some of his weight. Knees felt rubbery, worse than after the circle disaster. "Please… stay."

Even as his vision grayed, he saw his mother deflate and sit down.

Willow and Darren practically lifted him. Try as he might, Graham felt his coordination leave him. He was a trapped mind in a useless body, though his thoughts were becoming more and more disjointed. Flitting from how ADAM was a construct of multiple demons to how Walsh must have dismantled demons and humans in his creation. Willow's floral scent followed with the absent mental note of how he really wanted to buy that perfume for his mother's birthday.

The sunlight was too bright. That was the first thing he noticed as Darren shoved the door out of the restaurant open with a hip. The air was pleasantly warm, yet cool, but the sunlight was far too bright. His eyes watered and closed, but he forced them open again since he was so afraid he wouldn't be able to if he closed them for too long.

"He's fainting." Willow's voice seemed miles away, and Graham struggled to stay with them. There was no feeling, no sensation or sound. No scent, texture or taste for a long moment and then suddenly his senses were overwhelmed.

"Sssh!" Willow soothed, running a cool hand over his face. "We need to get him cooled down, Darren. Take him straight to the bathroom."

The bathroom? From the parking lot? Graham tried to speak, but it was a strangled mewl. Eyes opened for a moment and he caught a flash of his mother's house, the light floral wallpaper lining the stairwell too cluttered and noisy for him. The world spun again.

Cold water hit him like a transport trailer. Spluttering forward, only a strong arm against his stomach kept him from falling on his face. "Wha…?"

"Relax." Willow commanded at his right side. "We need to get your temperature down. The water isn't really cold, just luke-warm. Trust me."

Wasn't there a healing spell she could do? And, wasn't her dress getting wet if it was raining? How did she make the rain go lukewarm?

"He's delirious." Darren's voice held a note of concern that Graham had never anticipated hearing. He wanted to say he was okay, that they were wrong, but his tongue couldn't shape the words. His body felt utterly weak, lost. The mind was trying to work but the images and thoughts were so disjointed. Confused.

"Help me." He whispered.

"We are. We will." Willow promised softly. "Trust me."

With his very life, he wanted to say. Willow would never willingly betray him, Graham knew that just as he knew his own name. Bright, inquisitive and stubborn as she was, Willow was the kind of girl who regarded loyalty as the utmost quality in a friend. She would take his secrets to her own grave and protect him with her last breath.

Yes, he could trust her. A soft hand stroked his face reassuringly, easing his dimming senses and letting him feel safe enough to let go of his mind.

"He's out." Darren sighed, wincing as he readjusted his grip on his brother. The water was soaking them both through their clothes, but that didn't matter. Only Graham's fever mattered, they simply had to make it break. "And geezus, I don't know what they put in his vitamins, but if it's steroids they did one helluva job. He weighs a ton!"

Willow rummaged in the medical cabinet and found a digital thermometer. Stripping a soft plastic cover out of the box, she
wrapped it around the sensor of the monitor. "Tilt his head away from the water." She ordered as she cupped Graham's chin with one free hand. Deftly, she inserted the thermometer into his ear and set the unit to measure his temperature.

The spray of water fell constantly, Darren's grip and positioning of Graham fully soaking the younger man. After a minute, the thermometer beeped a shrill sound, and Willow withdrew it to glance at the reading. "Good enough." She muttered, setting the unit down and reaching for the water controls. Shutting down the shower, she raced for two large towels before Darren could even suggest it.

Lifting Graham out of the tub, Darren set him down on the toilet and let Willow support his unconscious weight. "Give me just a minute." He muttered, stepping out of the bathroom and down the hall to Graham's room.

Willow could hear the drawers being opened and closing, followed up with the gentle click of the cupboard door. After what seemed to be an hour, in which she towel dried Graham's hair and softly dried his face, Darren returned clad in Graham's robe and bringing a pile of clothes for his brother. "We need to get him out of those wet clothes."

Willow blushed instantly. "Oh… I… umm."

Darren smirked at her, the teasing look in his face disappearing within seconds given the seriousness of Graham's health. "You don't have to look." He smiled as he deftly unbuttoned Graham's shirt. One hand pressing Graham back so he couldn't fall over, his other hand worked the shirt off and then lifted the t-shirt underneath.

Willow hesitated just a moment, and then sucked up her courage. "Here." She reached for the t-shirt and reefed it over his head, manipulating it out of each arm. Graham's pants, socks and shoes quickly followed.

Darren grabbed a towel and dried off his brother's boxer-clad body, waiting until they were ready to re-dress Graham before removing the one last item of his modesty. As much as he'd teased his brother, watching Willow's embarrassed face and clear discomfort told the story better than words ever could. There was no intimacy between the young redhead and his brother, at least not yet.

"Okay, we're ready." Lifting Graham up, he maneuvered Graham so that Willow could support Graham from behind, her hands on his waist. Keeping her eyes fixed on a mole placed on Graham's upper right corner of his back, she felt and heard Darren remove the soaked cotton boxers, and then felt Graham's weight shift as Darren fed the new dry boxers through each leg before restoring Graham's modesty. "It's safe now." Darren took his brother's weight from Willow.

"Oh. Good." Willow murmured faintly, wishing she could fan herself discretely. Graham looked damn good in swimming trunks. From his rugged handsome face to broad strong shoulders and the firm flat stomach, he was utter eye-candy to the senses. Willow didn't even want to consider the waist down for fear of oxygen deprivation. However, unconscious and vulnerable did nothing to demean how he looked wet and in thin boxers. For some reason it heightened just how delectable he looked. It must be a voyeuristic tendency in her nature, she decided feeling warm all over.

Darren hefted Graham up over his shoulder, knees nearly buckling at the weight. Willow braced Graham's head with her hands as Darren turned ensuring that Graham's head wasn't struck on the door or doorframe. Gathering up the discarded towels and restoring the bathroom to order, she tossed Graham's wet clothes into the laundry hamper and then scurried down the hall to Graham's room.

"Okay… I'll just go get dressed. Are you okay looking after him, or do you want me to stay?" Darren sighed, weary after all the exertion. Graham seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

"I'm okay. Go." Willow smiled reassuringly. "I've seen someone else go through this. He just needs to sleep it off. It'll run its course."

Darren frowned, eyes still fixed on his brother's face. The resemblance between them was astonishing, but never as astonishing as right now with the grim seriousness marring Darren's usually more light-hearted outlook on life. "Now's not a good time. I'm worried, I'm upset and I can't straighten my thoughts out, but you know, Mom's going to want answers when she gets back. Like, what's the Initiative and what kind of drugs were they giving him. I'm assuming he knows nothing about it, which just raises more questions."

Willow nodded, taking the desk chair and pulling it beside the bed. "I know." Voice soft and sad, she reached out to gently stroke Graham's face. "And I'll answer what I can, but I can't tell you too much without Graham's consent." The somber face she presented had more resolve to it, and more commitment to Graham's privacy and integrity than anyone could question.

"Fair enough." Darren bent down and straightened the covers over his brother with a paternal care. "I'll get going. We won't be long."

Willow smiled wanly, watching as Darren left. She heard him rummaging around in the bathroom, probably dressing in the other pile of clothing he'd brought with him. "Going now." He called after several minutes.

"Bye." Willow murmured, eyes still resting on Graham's pale face. Absently, she heard the door downstairs closed with a soft slam followed quickly by the coughing start of Darren's car "Well." She sighed, kicking her shoes off and slumping into the chair. " I have to say, Graham, this has been one heck of a vacation, thus far."

Part Six:

The night of Graham's collapse passed quickly, it was the days that followed that didn't. The warming love of his family gave him so much strength, but he wearied himself greatly in struggling to stay awake for them, to hold onto his consciousness even though his body ached unbearably.

It was times like this that the greatest aspects of family and friends shone through.

"Can't you do something?" Denise had pleaded to Willow on Day Three of Graham's convalescence. "You know, like what you did when he burnt his hand?"

"Something?" Willow squeaked, "I don't…"

"Witchcraft, magic… whatever it is you pagans do." Denise had persisted, nearly in tears as she smoothed the sweat-soaked hair of her son, never realizing that he was conscious but keeping his eyes closed. "It's been so long." Her voice broke, the catch in a sob nearly making Graham speak out.

The bed shifted, people moved, and he only knew by the sound of Willow's arms sliding around his mother's shoulder that the two women were hugging. "He will be fine, Denise. You have to believe that. I have seen this before, and Riley is fine now."

"But, you won't help him." There was an infinite sadness in Denise's voice.

"I can't help him." Willow corrected, a more poignant sorrow lacing her voice. "I might accidentally kill him. I'm a novice, Denise. I'm a beginner who only learned magic so that I could protect myself. I can't risk Graham. I can't. He's my only friend, and I can't loose him either."

The tears in his women's voices constricted Graham's heart, but knowing they were bonding, hearing the support they gave each other so selflessly helped him relax and he fell back into a deep sleep.

*~*~*

"She needs to be in a proper bed." His mother's soft whisper rousing him from the gentle doze he was harboring. "That chair isn't comfortable, and she's slept in it for two nights, now."

"Just be glad she ate something this morning." Darren muttered grimly. "I can't believe that I forgot she missed dinner. That's two nights in a row…Graham will have my head if she gets sick."

"Our head." Denise corrected in her soothing but concerned voice.

The object of their conversation was curled in the chair beside Graham's bed. He'd been looking at her sweetly sleeping expression just moments before Darren and his mother had come into the room. Two days by his side, Willow had kept vigilant watch over his progress, mopping his brow with a damp cool cloth, straightening the bedsheets when he kicked them off and talking to him in a low soothing voice when he was restless.

Her care and time was something Graham never wanted to forget. Never had any friend given so selflessly to him, or comforted his family when he was unable. Willow was a remarkable woman and there was no way he would let himself betray her like Buffy had.

Darren brushed the edge of the bed, Graham knew this by the scent of his brother's cologne. The sound of fabric rustling together and the creak of the chair beside him gave further clues as to what was happening around him. "Set her down on the bed." Denise murmured from the other side of the bed. She lifted the edge of the covers, folding it down before fluffing the pillows.

The mattress depressed under Willow's slight weight, and the scent of her became stronger now that she was closer to him. "She needs to eat more. She's all hollow bones." Darren muttered. "Kevin weighs more and he's a newborn."

"Hardly." Denise muttered. The sound of shoes hitting the floor echoed, and then the coverlet was pulled back up to tuck around Willow. "How's your brother?"

"Good." The feel of the digital thermometer in his ear was mildly disorienting, but Graham didn't move all the same. The shrill beep made his head throb, but the feel of the unit being removed did alleviate some discomfort. His body ached horribly, muscle spasms were nothing in comparison to the ever-present nausea. Moving so much as a finger exhausted all of his energy and he felt the constant pull of sleep. Only, being so hot and hurting so much, he couldn't relax enough to sleep peacefully.

"It's down a bit." Darren's whisper made some Field Marshall's shouts seem quiet. "Not spiking like it did the first night."

"Good." Denise's voice was further away now, by the door Graham guessed hazily. "Let's leave them in peace for awhile, I want Willow to have a good long rest. It's bad enough she's missing another meal, I won't have her weakened by that and a lack of sleep."

"You going to feed me lunch?" Darren's whine was pathetic. "After all my hard work?"

"Darren! Don't you have a wife and a family to mooch off of now? I swear, I feed you more now than I ever did when you were a teen!" The click of the thermometer on the bedside table and the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor were preceded only by mere seconds to the closing of the door.

Willow sighed softly, turning in her sleep to cuddle the pillow. The warmth of her body was comforting, even if it was at least two feet away from him. Like having a teddy bear or a favorite blanket on the bed, his mind and soul felt soothed with her presence beside him, enough so that he drifted into another deep dreamless sleep.

*~*~*

"Shouldn't he have woken up by now, Mom? Maybe you should take him to a hospital?" Beth's voice held an annoying worry to it. The kind of sound that Graham knew he'd have to confess is consciousness if only to appease.

"Ssh." His mother's hand touched his temple. He knew it was her hand by the cool feel of her wedding rings. Four years after her husband's death and she still wore the symbols of their love. It was the same kind of devotion Graham wanted to feel when he married. A love where even death did not part the connection of the soul. "You'll wake Willow up."

Beth eeped quietly, tiptoeing to the other side of the room and claiming the chair at her brother's side. "I'll be quiet now." She promised.

"Good." Blankets were straightened and moved, Willow stirring in Graham's arms as the coverlet shifted. Unconsciously, Graham tightened his grip around her waist, his body still spooned against hers and loving the warm comfort she gave.

"They're cute together." Beth decided, sucking in a breath. "I can't believe I said that about my brother! Ick!"

"Hush. They are cute together," Denise must have glared at Beth for the low mumble that followed. "And I want you and your brother to stop teasing them. Graham's always been reserved, you know. Do you remember the last girlfriend he brought home?"

"Amanda Petersen." Beth reported crisply. "You and Dad blackmailed him into inviting her for dinner."

"Precisely." Denise made the one word sound as if it answered all the questions for each unknown in the universe.

'I think I missed something, there, Mom.' Graham thought, breathing in the scent of Willow's hair. It was a light fruity fragrance to her shampoo, warm, inviting and not cloying to his senses. 'How does Amanda, who was an utter flake, relate to Willow coming home for the summer?'

Maybe explaining the whole Sunnydale thing out would have cleared up the apparent misconceptions about his friendship with Willow. However, announcing that you brought a very lonely girl home so that the witch stalking her couldn't suck her dry and that a vampire wouldn't bite her was just going to get him committed.

Willow sighed again, her head moving in response to some dream. Muttering nonsense in her sleep, she squirmed slightly. Head tilted on the pillow, Graham's mouth quirked in a soft smile as she pressed herself tightly against him. It'd been a long time since he'd held a woman in his arms as he slept. The last one had been… well, Willow back at the dorm. Before that it'd been two years.

The nice thing was, waking up with Willow there wasn't nearly as traumatic as waking up with Tracey Martin. Tense, uncertain and feeling remarkably awkward Graham hadn't known what to expect or what to do while she was there. Conversation wasn't possible, as Tracey really hadn't been intellectual. There were no common interests between them and other than some good sex, he hadn't really understood the short-lived relationship.

'Want what Mom and Dad had. Want what Darren's got with Sandra.' He sunk deeper into his thoughts, forgetting that his mother and Beth were in the room. 'Want to finish school, get out of the Initiative and do things. I want a Lamborghini and Beth to not switch the sugar with salt.'

"Graham moved." Beth announced, loud enough to catch even Graham's wandering attention. "He's awake."

'Am not.' He protested silently, stilling as much as possible.

"His foot moved," Beth continued. "He always does that little twitchy foot move when he's waking up, like Madison did his tail."

Being compared to their old dead family cat really wasn't all that endearing.

"Graham?" Now his mother was on the bandwagon. "Talk to me, sweetie. Talk to mommy."

'Mommy?' Geezus crimney cripes, they were falling off the deep end of insanity now. 'I haven't called her Mommy in years… nearly twenty years to be precise. Jeez.'

"Oh, Graham, honey…" Her hand stroked the side of his face tenderly. "Wake up, sweetie."

"G'way." He muttered, burying his face into Willow's fragrant hair. "M'sleeping."

The sudden high-five occurring over his head was startling to say the least. Beth scampered across the floor and out the hall like a herd of water buffalo on the stampede. "GRAHAM'S AWAKE!" She bellowed down the stairs.

Willow jumped instantly. "Wha--?"

"Oh, good work Beth." Denise muttered, glancing at the young woman in her son's arms. "What part of be quiet didn't you understand?"

"The 'be' quiet part." Graham muttered, reluctantly releasing his grip on Willow. His voice must have registered on her sleep-clouded mind. She pulled out of his arms and spun around to look down at his face. Feeling her eyes on him, he opened his own eyelids to meet her gaze. "Good-morning?"

"Afternoon." Denise corrected. "Open your mouth." The oral thermometer was popped in before he could as 'why'. "Don't move." She continued. "I'll be right back with some soup for you to eat. Both of you."

Willow scampered back, still on the bed but further away from him, her cheeks red with slight embarrassment. "I don't… I didn't…"

"Mom put you on the bed." Graham smiled wearily. "She and Darren kicked up a lot of noise doing so, believe me."

"Oh. I…"

"It's cool, Willow. Don't worry about it." A huge yawn nearly broke his jaw. "How long have I been out of it?"

"Three days. Unless…." Willow blinked, her thoughts reflected on her face. A myriad of emotion and realizations all passing by for sorting in her tired jumbled mind. "I think three days. Maybe four, it depends how long I was asleep. Umm…" her voice trailed off uncertainly. Green eyes openly confused and searching for something innocuous to state, she settled on the obvious. "How do you feel?"

"Sore. Muscles hurt, my heads hurt and my throat really hurts. Other than that, I'm great. You?" Graham rolled onto his back, looking up at the cracks in the roof while he mustered some energy together. Even as a kid, he'd hated being sick.

Sucking in one huge deep breath, he braced himself for the agony and the fatigue that would follow. "Uhhh." He heaved his body upwards, using the pillows and backboard to the bed as a brace that would keep him upright. "Oh… man." He gasped, Willow's hands just now reaching to help him, straightening the pillows behind his back and adjusting
the blankets.

"That was stupid." She announced, the flush fading from her face to reveal a very stern expression. "You're not strong enough to be so active."

"No kidding." Graham sighed, blowing a long gust of weary air and tilting his head back again. "I don't ever remember being this sick as a kid."

Willow grabbed an abandoned pillow, hugging it to her chest as she watched him pensively. "Well." She began hesitantly. "Maybe that's because you've never had anything to withdraw from."

Sliding his blue eyes sideways to look at her, he mused over everything he'd overheard and meshed it with his memories of Walsh and Riley. "You really think she tampered with us." The words were soft, not accusatory just curious.

Willow shook her head. "No, I don't think it." Eyes downcast, she fidgeted with the edge of a pillow. "I know it. And now, I can prove it."

"Oh God." Graham dropped his head into the cradle of his hands. "I won't fight you Willow. I won't. I may have been out of it, but my mind was working and God help me, I believe you." The admittance hurt, but there it was. "Maybe it was the fever but I kept coming back to ADAM. Walsh took some human stock and made a hybrid demon out of many demons from him, didn't she? She stole his humanity and created something…"

"Ick?"

"Profane." Graham smiled sickly. "But, ick too." Her lips twitched, from slight frown to a nervous expression he couldn't identify. There was something more on her mind than just the ick and withdrawal. "There's something else, isn't there? What?"

"Well." Willow twisted the pillow. "It's the proof we've got. Darren has a friend who's a lab technician and we ran a sample of your blood against a sample of the vitamins you were on… you kept a few in your emergency kit. I was looking for a generic thermometer, and came across a small container of pills and I recognized them right away." Her explanation faded into babbling as she hastily justified her prowling in his stuff.

"That's cool, Willow. Don't worry about it. I'm glad… I'm glad my anal retentiveness paid off." Graham hastily assured her, reaching out with one hand, he caught one of hers and threaded his fingers in with her own. "So, what did we find out from these samples?"

"So… there were a lot of things in the pills. Some of them really were vitamins. But… Jake, the lab guy, had to really fight to identify one element in them. Most of the pill was like umm… steroid, vitamins, mood enhancers but…."

Butterflies blossomed in Graham's chest and stomach, a nervous reaction that hummed throughout his entire body to what she hadn't said yet. 'I don't want to know.' The pit of acid eating his gut warned him more than the nervous look in Willow's face. "But what?"

"There were anti-rejection drugs, Graham. Medications meant to prevent your immune system from reacting to a new organ or device. A large dose of anti-rejection modifiers."

"Oh dear God." Graham sat back heavily against the headboard heavily as a cold wave of shock seeped into his limbs laden the lead weights of realization. Every nerve ending took on a new suspicious tingle, every weakness a hyper awareness. How much of his body was his? Where did he begin and someone else ended? What was he? ADAM v.1.0?
"She operated on me too."

*~*~*

"I think… I know… I mean, Jake could get us into his lap to do an x-ray if you want?" Willow offered again. "I don't have to… or maybe your Mom? Even Darren?"

Graham took a deep breath, lifted his T-shirt up and tossed it onto the bed. "No, Willow. I definitely do not want my mother giving me an once-over. I really don't. She'd have a marketable catalogue printed and run inside a week if I did that - ready for the 'find a girlfriend for my pathetic son' meat-market."

Bracing his feet shoulder width apart, he folded his arms across his naked chest and stared boldly at the red-faced girl in front of him. She was utterly adorable, completely uncertain and as nervous as a virgin bride on her wedding night was. "I trust you, Willow. I don't trust Darren, and no guy wants his sister to do what I'm asking you to."

"There's always x-rays… it's more efficient."

"I don't want to wait." Graham countered. Her hesitation was deep, and it suddenly occurred to him that maybe she really was too uncomfortable with the situation. They really didn't know each other well, and examining his back, chest and legs this closely for indications of surgical scars would be more intimate than sharing a bed platonically was. "Listen, Will… if it really is too uncomfortable for you…"

A sigh slipped from her mouth just a mere second before her eyes hardened and her jaw set resolutely. "I can do this." She proclaimed. "It's just like… like biology."

'So is sex.' His mind instantly teased silently. 'Naked flesh, touching, tasting… off track much Graham, ol'boy?' Swallowing down his subconscious' nasty little adolescent comments, Graham turned around and offered his back for her examination. "Just run along and see if you find…"

"A bump, a scar, any marked skin or unusual anything of a Sunnydale bad nature." Willow cut him off. "I get it." Her breath was warm, a soft mist he could feel on his back as she moved to stand close to him. One hand braced on his back as she raised up on tiptoe to examine his left shoulder carefully.

It was weird. Standing in his room, with the mid-day sun beating through the window so hot and golden, it still seemed the hottest part of his flesh was the area Willow was perusing so… intently.

He felt hypersensitive, totally aware of each square inch of flesh as she examined it; her fingers of the hand not keeping her from tipping over lightly trailed over the skin searching for trace evidence of a surgery. The soft warmth of her skin on his back made a startling contrast. It wasn't like he that he was cold but that where ever she touched the skin felt… alive.

"Find anything?" He winced at the crack in his voice. Puberty had been years ago and dealing with rampaging hormones was the last thing he wanted. Okay, sure, he was standing in his bedroom with a beautiful young woman and wearing only thin boxers. Was that any reason to get all hot and bothered by it? No. Of course not. This was a clinical examination, not foreplay. 'But wouldn't foreplay be nice?'

"No." Willow's distracted voice mimed his own silent answer. Hers held more conviction but gave no comfort as the tip of her fingernail trailed along his back with slow care and then down a fraction to do another sweep horizontally across his back. "No surgical scars so far."

"Good." Graham nodded, moving his shoulders slightly. "Maybe there won't be any." He suggested hopefully. "Maybe those were standard meds they gave to everyone regardless... or she never got around to mucking with me."

"Hmm." Willow didn't really comment since she didn't need to. The report said it all. The Initiative had been feeding him
anti-rejection meds, mood stimulants and anabolic steroids for months now. It was naïve to think that the bitch monster from Hell, Maggie Walsh, would have left it at that and committed no invasive surgeries. Far easier to believe in the Easter Bunny.

The question was where was the point of operation, and what was done? Those were the two issues driving Graham nuts after reading about the independent lab's report on the two tablets left in his emergency supplies kit.

Although, right now the contents of the pills didn't disturb Graham even a fraction as much as the feel of Willow touching him did. It felt damn good, her touch. If he'd been a cat, his back would have arched for her some time ago. 'Hedonist. Spend six days bedridden and you're desperate for someone to touch you, no matter what their intentions are.'

"Back's clean." Willow muttered, setting both hands on his shoulders and then dragging her palms down over the contours of his back in a wide sweep. "I'll check the back of your legs. Give me a moment."

God help him if she wanted to check his buttocks. 'I won't be able to breathe.' The hairs on his legs all felt sensitized to her very being, gooseflesh rising up to salute her as her eyes raked down. This was sheer torture. 'I'm not thinking about it. I'm thinking about big huge green demons who skewer their victims.'

Electric shock rippled through his knee as her hand lightly touched the back of the knee in the soft spongy area of the joint. "Uh." The groan escaped before he could stow it, and though his mind raced, no covering lighthearted comment surfaced. "Gee, I wondering what's taking Mom so long." His breath in uneven gasps Graham winced at the husky sound of his voice while he gazed at the open door with utter desperation.

He was going to jump her at this rate. No way around it. Little Willow was innocently mauling his body with all the detachment of a proctologist and he just wanted to turn around, push her back into the bed and kiss every square inch of her body. Tit for tat.

'There will be no titting and no tatting.' He cautioned, breathing in a deep breath through his nose and willing his body to settle down before she reached his chest. God. If she stood on her tiptoes, her chin scarcely at the level of his shoulder… oh lordy, her body would be so close to his and…. 'Snuggling in bed while sleeping is okay.' He vowed. 'She needs you to be a friend, not a -' Well, the 'what' was up for grabs. A boyfriend? A lover? A sexual predator?

"Sorry." Willow murmured as he flinched. "Is that sensitive?"

Graham swallowed convulsively, looking down to find green eyes staring up at him, her finger pressed on a point of his chest. "No." He breathed. "Doesn't hurt at all."

"Oh." Those green eyes seemed brighter than usual, and her rosebud lips were parted oh so slightly, just enough for a man to… to… Oh, to hell with it.

"Can I kiss you?" Graham breathed, his eyes never shifting from her face. "Please?"

Willow's lips formed a silent 'oh', her pink tongue darting out to moisten her lips. It was agony to just watch and not participate.

"Willow?" Graham raised one hand to cup the side of her face, thumb gently stroking over her cheek as he tilted her head back just a little bit more. Not much, just enough to align both of them if she just said….

"Yes."

Part Seven:

His open bedroom door was definitely an identifiable problem. A big problem, not as big as a few other problems Graham was presently experiencing, but still a significant problem all the same. It represented the ending of nirvana. Whether the apocalypse came in the shape of his mother, his brother or his sister was unknown but just as Graham knew the sun would set and the moon would rise, he knew that someone would disrupt this mind-blowing moment.

And, oh sweet God in heaven above he so didn’t want it disrupted. His lips brushed hers once tentatively, twice sensually the softest touch of skin to skin whispering by before solidly connecting on the third time. Willow’s gasp was a moment to grasp and Graham eagerly took advantage of her parted lips to ruthlessly plundered Willow’s mouth.

Her light blouse against his bare chest did nothing to prevent his awareness of her response to him. Running a hand up her back and then down to splay just above her derriere, Graham thrilled to know that she wanted his touch as much as he craved hers. He felt it in her moan, a sound so primitive and sweet that rose from deep in her throat, and he
felt it in the way she pushed herself closer.

There was a liquid silk in her kiss and a burning fire in his veins as he struggled to find a breath between desperately starved kisses. Nothing else mattered, just this.

To hell with Maggie Walsh, forget the Initiative, screw the Slayer and her merry gang, nothing else mattered except the little bit of heaven in his arms. This was the knee-knocking wonderment he’d always wanted,
just as this was the perfect fit of a counterpart to his life.

This was Willow, his friend -- and oh how wonderfully she kissed. Or she responded to his kiss. Whichever it was, it was shaking the foundations of his world.

It wasn’t like that first kiss just outside the UC Sunnydale campus when he’d hidden her from Tara and Buffy. That had been a moment of panic and survival. There were no softer emotions wrapped up with that kiss,
the bonds of friendship not as tight as they were now.

Was that the secret? A soulmate was your friend before they became your lover? ‘I hope so.’

Willow moaned into his mouth, her hand curling around his neck and fingers burrowed in the short length of his hair. There wasn’t enough space between them for her to touch his chest, so she settled for exploring his arm with her other free hand.

Graham slid his lips from hers to explore her jaw and then the slender column of her throat before straying back up to tease an earlobe. Tongue licking skin with erotic strokes, he ignored the uneven breaths she took, or that he took for that matter, and concentrated on eliciting another sound of pleasure from her.

His hands abandoned their various explorations, moving for her waist. He pushed her away from his body slightly, acknowledging the sudden loss of her warmth with a groan, but took advantage of the change to tug her
blouse out of her shorts and explore the taut flesh of her abdomen.

"Grrr---ahhhm." Willow breathed, head falling back in surrender to his gentle assault.

"Touch me." He pled, moving his hands upwards while his lips drifted down the slender column of her throat to find her collarbone. Softly, gentle loving bites teased along the ridge of bone. The mewling sound from Willow was reward.

Willow apparently needed no urging. Her hands tight on his waist drifted lower to stroke his thighs, moving slowly upwards and sliding behind to explore his ass. It sent his senses over a virtual precipice, his body reacting instinctively by rocking his hips into her. Willow shifted one arm to reach up behind his neck, pulling him mouth back to
hers as she rocked her hips to rub her body against his arousal again.

"Willow…" Graham growled. "I…oh, God." Again, he grounded himself against her forgetting the preset parameters of a simple kiss as desire laced heavily in his veins and over-rode most mental functions.

Most… except the one for self-preservation. The open door had just become a significantly more profound problem. "Will… door. Need to…" He tried to look at her, tried to find some measure of control before he irrevocably pushed things further. Yet, for all the search of control, Graham also admitted that he didn't want any.

Or, more precisely, if his Mom hadn't been home, if Beth weren't somewhere in the neighborhood, and if Darren didn't have the detestable habit of popping in for a visit with random timing there would be no vague urge to slow down. Nothing had ever felt as right, as perfectly perfect as kissing Willow did. Never had he touched a woman just to
loose all his prided self-control.

He wanted her. He wanted to hear her cry out his name, feel her reach for him and after to hold her as they lay blissfully together. But the door represented everything that held him back. He had to close it.
Lock it. Put up a big neon "do not disturb".

Intentions and plans fell to the wayside, though as he gazed down to see the desire burning in her vibrant eyes that matched the fervor in his soul. Words falling helplessly and forgotten to the wayside, he captured her mouth once more sliding his hand under her blouse and up her back to release her bra strap.

"Should I get the hose?" Darren rudely interrupted his younger brother. "Or would you prefer I shut the door?"

Damn that blasted door… "Go. Away. And yes, shut the door." Graham growled, frustrated painfully as Willow split away from him with more speed than any demon he’d ever fought before. So close, and yet so far away all because of one open door. ‘I knew leaving it open was a problem, dammit!’

Darren smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Aren't you looking chipper, baby bro. You *must* be feeling better!" The gibe was light, but delivered with sibling aplomb. Then, with sudden about face, he smiled sincerely at Willow. "Hi Willow, Mom said that dinner would be ready shortly and that you were not to miss another dinner meal again
or else."

Willow, beet red and very flustered, muttered something inaudible and practically raced from the room. The sound of the guestroom door shutting echoed in the house.

"Your timing sucks." Graham growled. Dropping onto the bed, Graham’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Thinking about the cold shower he knew he’d have to take just to calm down, he shivered involuntarily. Then, and only then, could he face Willow.

Darren's grin was utterly evil. "Oh, I don't know. Personally, it couldn't have gotten much better. What sucks is that I didn’t bring a camera." He rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him carefully. "You idiot, what would Mom have said if she saw the hanky getting panky?"

"She'd have jumped for joy and run downstairs without saying a word." Graham countered. "Mom hasn't been subtle." Blindly reaching behind him, he found the T-shirt he'd earlier tossed aside and slipped it over his head. It was rather long, hanging down a good two or three inches over his waist. Not enough to obscure certain physical reactions to the… well… the… he felt his mind flounder for a safe description of the sheer passion felt between himself and Willow.

Darren laughed openly. "After she freaked out. Word to the wise, little brother. Don’t seduce your girlfriend until Mom’s convinced you’re 100% better and you won’t have that until she leaves the house for more than twenty minutes at a time."

"I wasn’t…" Graham’s jaw snapped shut. He wasn’t seducing his girlfriend and that was the first thing he wanted to rectify. Who was he trying to kid? He didn’t treat Willow like a platonic friend. He’d never snuggled up to Forrest, or wanted to cuddle with Riley, for God’s sake. Just because Willow was a girl didn’t change the way he should
treat her if she meant nothing more than a friend.

And he wanted her friendship mixed with more. So, first thing first, he was going to ask her for a date. If he did nothing else this summer, he would return to Sunnydale with Willow at his side as his girlfriend.

Taking out ADAM was probably an easier challenge. "Oh God." He dropped his head into his hands, running fingers through his hair to comb it out. "What am I going to do?"

"About what?" A mystified Darren asked. "I really don’t get you man…so I caught you with Willow, big whoop!"

Darren. Oops, he’d actually forgotten his brother was there for a moment. This was just what he needed, his big brother knowing all the details about his present non-relationship with Willow. Why not just call the National Enquirer and give them the scoop, wouldn’t that be easier?

Darren never had these problems. He’d been the highschool hero, wisking away girls for trysts in endless and various but always smooth and easy relationships. No friction, no fuss and no personal trauma or having
either of his siblings walk in at the worst possible moment.

Except for the time their mother had apparently walked in on him and…. "You can help me!" Graham’s head snapped up, the startling blue of the Miller eyes locking on his brother. "You’ve got to know what to do! You can help me fix this! I know it!"

"Fix what?" Darren gave him the look normally reserved for lunatics. "From where I was standing, nothing needed fixed. I’m certain you knew precisely what you were doing…"

"NO!" Graham lunged at his brother, gripping both upper arms tightly. Giving a little shake, he expanded for his brother’s understanding. "Not about that… I can handle that… the… I can do that just fine. What we need to do is convince Willow that wasn’t a mistake… we need to make her fall in love with me."

Darren’s eyes widened with comprehension. "Ohhh… I get it." He nodded once and carefully extricated himself from Graham’s grasp. Pushing his brother backwards, he forced Graham to sit on the bed, his chin bobbing up and down as his mind raced to sort out what Graham was babbling about. "That’s what’s going on! I get it! Right!"

Graham smiled broadly, pleased as punch to get his brother on board. After all, they were sibs, and Darren had experience wooing his wife. This made him the ideal partner in his new operation: Win Willow. "Good." This couldn’t be more complex than capturing a hostile. Just break it down into a step by step operation and boom – success! "Now, we have to plan. There’s a deadline for this operation: before returning to Sunnydale. That means I only have four weeks left."

"No problem." Darren continued. "I can handle this. Suddenly, everything you’ve been doing makes complete and total sense." He finished, pointing a finger at his brother. "You’ve completely lost your blinking mind!"

The last bit was a little bit of a sharp turn. From being on track in the "Win Willow" scheme to complete derailment, Graham wasn’t sure if he was coming or going. "What?" He blinked. "No, Darren… listen to me!"

"Listen to you? You’re a looney!" Darren flicked the lock on the door before leaning against the long wooden plank with arms folded tightly across his chest. "And a complete idiot. Have you seen the way Willow looks at you, you twit?"

What did he mean, the way Willow looked at him? Graham frowned, eyebrows merging as his forehead furrowed. "What do you… the same as she looks at everyone else."

"Ha!" Darren barked. "My wife would have my guts for garters if Willow looked at me that way!"

Graham had his pride, but it was well beaten down to reasonable levels. So, it was with complete honesty and no shame that he hung his head and admitted that Darren had completely scrambled the remains of his brains. "Really? But---I don’t --- I didn’t--- she never--- I’m so confused."

"Join the club!" Darren sighed. "You two are worse than… you know, I can’t even compare you guys to anyone else, you’re that bad."

"Thanks, bro. Feeling the love."

"I do love you, you nitwit. Which is why I’m standing here talking about your love-life, as screwed-up as it is." Darren pushed away from the door and dropped into the chair by the window. "How about we put all the cards on the table without any secrets and figure out where things sit?"

Graham’s blue eyes clouded over. There were some secrets he had to keep, things that he couldn’t tell his brother for fear that they would have him committed. "Oooo-kay."

Darren smirked, the expression so familiar to Graham since he frequently saw it in his own mirror. "Trust me!" He held his hands up as if pleading for that faith. "Would I think poorly of you for anything you might have said or done?"

Graham rolled his eyes. "Yes. You would."

"Oh well. That’s a pity." Darren laughed, face sobering almost instantly. "Now, shall we discuss the lives and times of one Willow Rosenberg?"

Someone somewhere was pounding a nail into his coffin, and for some bizarre reason, Graham could have sworn he was hearing every single drop of the hammer.

*~*~*

"This is amazing!" Willow enthused, tugging on the hem of her t-shirt as she looked around the open street fair. "Do they do this every weekend?"

Beth giggled, grabbing Willow’s arm and tugging her along. "Nope." She pointed quickly to a canopied booth. "It’s a three-week carnival. Cool, isn’t it?"

Following the two girls with rather leery anticipation, Graham had to smile at his sister’s energy. Although, the tattoo-piercing tent probably wasn’t something he should encourage, he couldn’t help but admire her attempt to sell the idea.

Like he’d risk his mother’s wrath by letting Beth stick holes in herself. Ha! He hadn’t been born yesterday!

"It’d be cool!" Beth was bouncing on her toes, looking at Willow with innocent but passionate blue eyes. "That little silver one right there!"

"I don’t…" Willow’s soft voice held caution.

"Oh, please, just think about it." Beth pleaded. "It’d look so kewl with your new swimsuit! You’re so tiny, it’d be so funky!"

‘What would be so funky?’ Graham wondered, striding up behind the girls and looking over Willow’s shoulder at a small display of piercing studs and hoops. ‘And, more importantly, what new swimsuit?’

Visions of two-piece string bikinis danced through his head and settled heavily in his groin. ‘No—not Willow.’ He firmly told his body. ‘Think Speedo one-piece practical swimwear’. So he did, and his jean-shorts became all that much tighter.

Darren’s plan had better bloody well work! That was all Graham could. He didn’t want Willow to think that everything between them was only physical lust. It was so much more. Frightening and wonderful in how he was as enraptured with her mind and kindness as much as he was captivated and enslaved by her body and touch.

‘She’s the kind of girl you marry, Graham.’ Darren had warned. ‘Don’t be loosing your heart to her if you have an aversion to the concept of until-death-do-you-part’

Sure, he was a little young to be thinking about forever. And he barely knew the girl, right?

Right. ‘I know too much about her. I know her hobbies, her interests, her favorite movie and what she really thinks about workfare programs. I know that her parents are schmucks and my family adores her. I even know the soap detergent she uses to wash her delicates with and the ingredients of her shampoo. And, most of all: I know she knows me.’

You didn’t spend the kind of time alone with someone like they had and not learn everything about them. The nights after classes when he’d hidden Willow in his dorm, the walks on the beach here, and the afternoons weeding the garden while laughing over childhood stories with his mom. He’d discovered her friendship and it’s boundless nature long
before his body and heart had caught up with his mind.

"Don’t you think Graham?" Beth turned on his suddenly, side-tracking Graham from his thoughts. "Wouldn’t it look just amazing?"

"What?" He blinked, looking at Beth’s eager face to Willow’s slightly blushing one. "What would look amazing?"

"A belly-ring, on Willow."

Graham swallowed. Hard. "On Willow?" He squeaked, feeling his ears begin to burn. It had taken two full days to get Willow to look at him straight in the eye and one-week to get her to hang with him without the awkward moments and now Beth was doing THIS to him? ‘I was a serial killer in a past life – my karma is bad.’

"Yeah! A little silver hoop, it’d look so cool with her new swimsuit and the midriff shirts ‘n stuff." Beth enthused to her audience. "Since Mom won’t let me get one, I thought if Willow got one then Mom might change her mind and…"

"Oh." Willow and Graham breathed as one. The dawning light of understanding making the entire situation more manageable. Barely, but a little. At least it wasn’t Willow’s flat abdomen with the trim waist that had the sparkle of silver in his mind. A sparkle that drew the eye lower and made hands itch to…

"Beth, it’s not fair to ask Willow to do this just because you want one." Graham growled, more at his wandering mind than his sister. His voice softened at the startled look from both girls. "I mean, maybe body piercing works for you, but it’s everyone’s personal choice and something that you have to live with afterwards. Peer pressure and
belly rings shouldn’t be together!"

Willow nodded. "Besides, Beth. I don’t like wearing short shirts or clothes that… umm… you know." Beth blinked owlishly. "Never mind." Willow hastily added. "It’s not me. No one would ever see it, so why bother?"

"Graham would see it." Beth countered, oblivious to the tension that she was creating between her brother and Willow.

"He would?"
"I would?"

"Yeah, like when you go to bed or have a shower and whatnot." Beth continued, airly waving a hand as if this was an accepted state of affairs.

‘My ears are bright flaming red now.’ Graham gazed down at his sister almost blankly. ‘She thinks… we… man, I haven’t even seen her in her new swimsuit yet, and Beth think that we shower together?’

The surge of lust at that thought nearly made his groan. "Beth, we don’t… Willow… I… Oh, man!" Throwing his head back, he rubbed one hand into his hair.

"Graham and I are just friends, Beth. We don’t sleep together, or… you know." Willow countered gently, using euphemisms to suggest intimacy.

Beth snorted scornfully, turning about with a haughty sniff. "Like anyone believes that! Who are you trying to fool?" Stomping her foot once she stormed off.

"Ah. Volatile." Graham stared after her, mind foundering for something intelligent to say. "Sorry?"

Willow giggled, her cheeks still flushed. "Oh, it’s not your fault that she’s sixteen. Don’t apologize!" Her fingers idly ran over the ring one more time before picking up the card for the booth’s store. "You know, maybe your Mom ought to investigate the whole idea with Beth, rather than just saying no. That way Beth would feel she had an open
conversation on the subject."

"Like that would make a difference?" Graham chuckled, glancing down in appreciation at his redheaded companion and her sly way of changing the subject. "Beth is as bull-headed as the rest of us are. Once she sets her mind to something, there is no stopping her. I swear, the day she turns 18, she’ll come home with all the piercing and tattoos she wants."

"That’ll be worth seeing." Willow mused, a soft smile on her mouth. Her lips tightened and she resolutely lifted her hand away from the rings, as if tempted. "So, now what?"

Graham shrugged, leading her through the crowded streets at a slow easy pace. "Whatever you want to do." He encouraged. "It’s a survival of the fittest night, Mom’s out, Beth’s wandering and Darren, God forbid,
might actually stay with his wife and child tonight."

Willow giggled. "Just me and you, then." She looked about brightly, nervously. "Can we find dinner out here?"

"Sure." Graham caught her hand, pulling her closer until her arm brushed his. "How about we wander down to the board-walk, look at all the weirdo booths down there, and then go track down some dinner." The boardwalk would be congested, but a walk along the beach would take care of that. Besides, it was the private quiet moment that Darren
recommended.

First on the "win Willow" agenda was to convince her he was serious. That her friendship was everything to him but he had so much more to offer her. ‘If I’m lucky, I might actually get a few more kisses out of the deal.’

The sun was setting by the time Graham steered her down to the cove, bags of food in hand. Well lit by the department of parks and whatnot, it was simple to find a park bench isolated and out of the sight of the street behind them.

"So – one strawberry milkshake." Graham passed the drink to Willow, feeling warm from the glow of her answering smile. "And a chicken-manadrin salad."

"Thank you." Willow folded her legs up to sit cross-legged, settling the drink to the right of her body, and the salad balanced on her thigh. It appeared an awfully light meal for anyone to call dinner, but Willow dug
right into it with clear enjoyment.

Studying her subversively while she ate, Graham waited for the soft sound of the lapping waves and the gentle murmur of the world around them to relax her. A lot hinged on convincing her that he was sincere and he wasn’t taking any chances.

"That was good." She finally cooed, closing the plastic container her meal had come in and resting one hand on her hidden belly. "I’m full."

"I don’t know how you can possibly be full off a few pieces of lettuce." Graham grumbled good-naturedly, still feasting on his second burrito. "Mom’s right – you don’t eat enough."

One slim eyebrow arched in silent protest, but the smile on her mouth softened the look making her look the enchanting witch that she truly was.

His burrito froze in place, lowering down. This was it. Now or never. Butterflies spawned and swarmed into his stomach, threatening to return his first burrito back up for a revisit. "So." The second half-eaten burrito dropped with a splat into the plastic container. "Listen... err..."

Willow's smile faded, but not into worry. Genuine interest and a touch of concern for him trailed across her face, but she was still open and approachable. He just needed to screw his guts together and move on.

Somehow, asking Stacey Spelder, the prettiest and most popular girl in school back several years, to the High School prom seemed infinitely easier in retrospect. Given that Stacey's boyfriend had been standing right there while he asked at the time, he had to wonder what made this situation so difficult.

"Graham?" Willow prodded him on.

"Yeah." Was that squeak him? Oh, dear. "Agh. I can't do this right. So, I'm just gonna be soldier-boy and say it." Not a good start, but Willow hadn't started running yet, so... "You know what happened in my room, the other day."

Ooh, signs of imminent flight crossed her face. "Yeah." Little more than a whisper, very hesitant, awkward and embarrassed in tone, but at least it was an answer.

"Before Darren walked in." The brown junk oozing out of his burrito was suspiciously unnatural in texture, he noted absently. It was easier to stare down at the wilted lettuce, brown saucy ick and other assorted former-vegetables than it was to look at Willow. He just knew he was going to blush.

Couldn't the sun set faster?

"Yeah." Okay, she was squeaking now. Nice to be on an even playing field.

"I wanta do it again." Oh, that wasn't quite what he wanted to say. Especially given the rapid expansion and jaw-dropped look on Willow's face. "I mean... I was... could... uh. Not quite that... it's..."

Was she even breathing, or was she in total shock?

"Date me." There. There it was. He got it out. Hurrah the home-team. "Like... could we... try?"

As far as asking a girl out went, that was his lamest ever. The most important in his life, he suspected, but the lamest way of doing so. "Err? Willow?"

She was breathing, and she blinked. Green eyes flashing once, disappearing and boom, back again.

Suddenly, it occurred to him. What if she said no? What if she wasn't feeling the way he was feeling and she didn't want to see where things could go. What if...

"Willow? Say something?" Open begging was humiliating, but with everything else that they knew about each other and had seen, Graham felt comfortable that she'd take this secret to her grave too. "Anything?"

"Date me? Like... um." She stuttered.

"Yeah. Like boyfriend/girlfriend. Like my Mom keeps suggesting, Beth implying, Darren teasing... just like that."

"Because of a kiss?" Ooh, nice squeak on the last word, Willow! She was flustered, blushing and having a hard time not running away in a panic.

Graham grinned at her, watching her blush in embarrassment and loving every second of it. "No. Not because of a kiss, but because I wanted to kiss you. I wasn't expecting this, Willow. I never thought we'd become friends, but you're the closest thing I have to a best friend, and I've never been as drawn to a woman as I am to you. I don't know if
I love you, yet, but I'd like to find out... if you want to."

Now, that was better. A lot more polished, genuinely honest and appealing. Oh yeah, why couldn't he have started like that?

"Oh." She squeaked again. "Umm."

"If you're not comfortable with the idea, Willow, that's cool. I'll... understand."

"No... it's not... it's... you.... I...." She paused, took a deep breath and began again. "I'm not really the kind of girl most guys go for. I'm a geek, and a witch and not the pretty kind of witch."

The burrito and it's container hit the garbage can to the right of their little bench, and Graham had her hands firmly in his grasp in a heartbeat. "Don't even start." He warned her. "You're gorgeous. Beth sees it, you know. My Mom sees it, Darren knows it... you're utterly beautiful! As for a witch, I would expect nothing less of anyone who lived in Sunnydale. I want you to teach me things, I want to share more than just classes and movies. I just want you to give me a chance."

Her eyes were wide again, rather like a child's when first seeing a Christmas tree with presents cluttered underneath. "Oh." Not a squeak, just a slow breath.

"Please?" Graham pleaded. "Let's give it a go for the next few weeks, before we return to school. If you're not happy, then we'll part and no one else will ever know."

Her head shook a little, and for a moment he was desperately afraid she'd say no altogether. "I... it's not like that." She breathed, looking away shyly. "I... okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." She nodded. "But... just... if you change your mind. Tell me? Don't just pretend or lie, or let me find out some other way. Okay?"

His mind wasn't changing. Not now, not tomorrow and not unless he had a lobotomy. "Really?" The urge to smile was overwhelming, and stifling back the urge to whoop out loud, he settled for smiling. "So... if we're really dating, can we count this as Date Number One?"

"Umm." She was still blushing, that had to go. "I guess, so. Why?"

She was such a tiny person it was easy to pull her up and onto his lap before she could even muster a protest. "Because," Graham grinned, finding her green eyes wide and surprised staring into his. "I can have an official first-kiss now."