Chapter 3

Buffy opened the door in her NYPD sweatshirt and a pair of worn jeans. "Will! You're late!"

"Uh, sorry?" Willow frowned. She was never late. As a rule. Glancing at her watch, sure enough, only five to 8pm.

"Everyone's here already! Come in." Buffy took the bottle of wine from Willow's hands as she walked in, shedding her jacket and tossing it onto the coat rack just inside the portico of Buffy and Angel's Brooklyn brownstone. She followed her diminutive friend into their living room, to find that indeed, Angel, Xander, and Anya were already there, along with…

"Oz," Willow said weakly, before she could check herself.

The small man in question turned at the sound of his name. He looked at Willow, and a warm smile spread over his face. Willow immediately felt guilty for her lack of a similar response to seeing her on-again, off-again boyfriend of the past seven years. Oz stood and came to her to embrace her and press a kiss softly on her lips in an uncharacteristic display of affection. He was normally the stoic type, Willow the more expressive one of their relationship. "Hey stranger," he murmured.

"Hey yourself," she breathed back. Her momentary lack of emotional response melted quickly away. She had missed him, even if she'd been kept too busy to fully realize it until now.

"I bumped into Oz at our House this morning and invited him for you. He mentioned you guys hadn't gotten the chance to talk the past couple of weeks."

"Thanks, Buffy. Good call." She turned to Xander and Anya, who were both sitting on the floor, Anya between Xander's legs. "Hi guys."

"Can we eat already?" Angel said, more to forestall Xander getting back to the story he'd been telling when Willow had arrived than to appease his appetite for Buffy's cooking.

"Yes, yes, you big lummox," Buffy answered. "Food's on the table, guys. Just grab a plate and go out back, there's more room there."

The evening passed pleasantly. Willow felt herself falling back into the comfort of routine and familiarity with her old friends. By midnight, as the final production credits of the movie Buffy had rented began to scroll, Willow was yawning. She was barely conscious of saying her sleepy goodbyes to Xander and Anya who were, to Angel's annoyance, still very much awake and looking to hang around a bit more. Willow smirked. Anya was launching herself into another tirade about the proper punishment for the cheating scumbucket pencildick character that had led in the romantic comedy Buffy had picked for their movie night. Anya's creative streak came out at such times. Somewhere in a past life, they were all sure she had been deeply wronged on that score.

The woman was either thickly not understanding Buffy's gentle suggestions about the lateness of the hour, or deftly deflecting them purposefully to annoy Angel, something Xander had never had a problem indulging in himself. Willow suspected the latter.

She felt mildly annoyed at Buffy, for ambushing her with the lure of a regular movie night with old friends that had somehow, without her knowing it, turned out to really be a date night, complete with the unexpected presence of her sometime friend-turned-boyfriend. Not that she had minded minded, of course. Seeing Oz was nice. But still, she had fully committed to being solo tonight, had made peace with being a fifth wheel before arriving. Then coming here, to see it was actually some kind of couples night… Aside from Buffy's sneak attack, the thought that it hadn't occurred to her to invite Oz herself… Too much to deal with right now. She shrugged on her jacket and made her way to the door, stumbling a bit as she spun around to say something to Angel about tomorrow, only to find Oz right at her back. She squealed. "Oz!"

Oz frowned a bit. He had anticipated escorting his girlfriend on the subway back to her Greenwich Village apartment, and possibly spending the night. It was only a slight detour from his own place in Harlem. But the look on her face clearly didn't agree with his assumption. "Don't you want me to-?"

Willow avoided his soft blue eyes. "It's not that I don't want to, it's just that it's late, and—"

"Okay," he said simply. They stood awkwardly a long moment, before Oz smiled reassuringly and gestured back toward the door. "Ladies first."

They left Buffy's porch, Oz going right toward the uptown west-side trains, Willow, after one last hesitant smile over her shoulder to her retreating boyfriend, across the street to the lower east-side ones.