Oz double-checked his watch. Giles had made it clear what times were safest for these visits, but yesterday had thrown him for a bit of a loop. He slowed his pace a little as he approached the house. It really seemed a little big to be just a house. Mansion didn’t seem like quite the right word to apply, too modern and American. This was an old, stone, history-laden building. Chateau? No, it would have to be in France to be a chateau. And chateau means castle, which this isn’t. Or maybe it was manor. Manor, that sounds about right.

Oz made a mental note to ask whether the manor had a name as he knocked on the door. After he got no answer, he tried the doorknob. Open. He paused at the threshold, letting all the smells that permeated the inner recesses sink in, trying to distinguish each, to find the ones that held most interest for him. The place reeked of fear and anxiety, and had ever since he’d arrived in the area a week ago. From what he’d managed to get out of Giles, Willow’s presence was responsible for that. It seemed everyone was terrified of her, though how anyone could find Willow terrifying was beyond him. Ironically, her fear was overwhelming, so strong he didn’t even have to search for it.

He had known she was here as soon as he had stepped out of the cab. His time in Burundi had been so rewarding he hadn’t thought anything could put an end to his great mood. He was wrong. Willow’s scent had hit him like a punch to the gut. He had often wondered whether he would ever experience it again, but he never wanted it like this, laced with the musky element of fear. The smell of her fear always made him anxious, but coming so unexpectedly, it had nearly taken him to his knees. Even after two years, she had that effect on him. Two years? Three years? It seemed longer than that. Too long.

He had wanted to see her, talk to her, anything; but Giles had been adamant in his refusal to allow it, and Oz had to concede defeat. It didn’t take much to undo progress, he knew that all too well. Willow had been the one thing that had brought the wolf out of him, despite all he had accomplished. He didn’t want to risk setting her back any more than Giles did. Whatever was best for Willow, that’s what he would do.

He stepped into the kitchen, closing the door behind him. He started to call out, before the sound of voices silenced him.

“Rupert, you know I want to help as much as possible,” Ms. Harkness said.

“But?” Giles asked.

“But she’s disrupting the school. Everyone is terrified of her, and I can’t say that they’re wrong. I haven’t seen any evidence of improvement, and she’s been here for two weeks. If she doesn’t begin to make some progress soon, I’m going to have to ask that you find another place for her.”

“Ms. Harkness,” Giles, implored. Huh, even Giles called her Ms. Harkness. Her first name had always been a mystery to Oz, and he amused himself with the thought that perhaps she didn’t have one.

“Rupert, I am responsible for keeping these girls safe. From the each other as well as the outside world. Their parents would strike me down if they knew I was harboring Willow here and I’m having a hard enough time keeping the Council’s nose out of it. They gave me leave to train the girls, not to tame them.”

“She’s trying so hard—I don’t have any other place to turn,” Giles continued, obviously flustered.

“I’m sorry, Rupert. But I cannot risk the safety of the coven or of our students. How long until something sets her off again? I’ll give her another two weeks, as a favor to you, but I’m not entirely optimistic about the outcome.”

“I’ll talk to her, again,” Giles resignedly.

Oz felt he had eavesdropped too long. He walked towards the voices into the parlor to find Ms. Harkness on the sofa. Across from her sat Giles, his head in his hands, glasses dangling between his fingers.

“Hey.”

“Daniel,” Ms. Harkness said as she rose to greet him. She moved with an almost catlike grace that belied her age, which was probably approaching seventy, if not older. She smiled broadly as she lead Oz to the couch. “Sit, I’ll make some tea,” she offered, reaching for the teapot before leaving the room.

“Thanks,” Oz replied. “So what’s going on?” he asked.

“Oz,” Giles said, wearily. “Could I have a word with you?”

“Oh, actually, I kinda wanted to talk to you about something,” Oz said. “Giles, Willow, she saw me yesterday.”

“I know,” Giles said with a sigh. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

“Well, I thought maybe it’d be best if I left. I was planning to leave in a few days to help Master Sheng with the new students, anyway.”

“There’s no reason for you to leave,” Giles protested, as put his glasses back on.

“Well, I don’t want to hinder her, and it took everything in me to keep from turning around when I heard her say my name. I honestly don’t know if I could do it again,” Oz said.

“Perhaps it won’t be necessary for you to do it again,” Giles said pensively as he leaned forward, looking Oz in the eye. “Oz, she already knows you’re here. And right now I think she could use a friend.”

“But I thought—” Oz started, a little confused.

“There is still the possibility that your presence may undo her progress, but I’m afraid I’m forced to admit that there may not be much progress to undo,” Giles said sadly.

Oz let it all sink in. He realized what it all meant, what he’d overheard, and what Giles had said. It meant that Willow wasn’t in a good place. Not even Ms. Harkness, who had helped Oz immensely, seemed to be able to help her. Giles seemed so lost. And all these thoughts kept being pushed aside by one.

He would get to see Willow again.

“Pluvia flosus,” the slim blonde twenty-something said in a strong, confident voice. Flowers began to fall from her open hand as she moved it through the air.

Althenia was Willow’s favorite teacher. Only a few years older than Willow, Althenia always managed a smile whenever they passed in the halls. Not that she was any less afraid than the rest of them, but it was a nice gesture and Willow appreciated it. If things were different, if Willow wasn’t the wicked witch of the west who just tried to end the world, she imagined she and Althenia would have become friends. But things weren’t different.

Instead befriending Althenia, or any of the coven women, Willow scared them. And she knew she had a lot to learn, about magic, about everything. She had to sit in a class full of teenage girls and listen to them giggle, and put up with their whispering and gossiping and pointing. And this time she didn’t even have Xander to commiserate with.

Willow thought of herself at sixteen. She would have really enjoyed having a school like this. She’d always imagined boarding schools were fun, but magic boarding schools were even more exciting. It was like a real-life Hogwarts.

“I think you’d all agree that this is a fairly simple and harmless spell, and easy to clean up after. Purgare,” Althenia said as she cleaned the petal-covered floor by sweeping her arm over it, as though the world were her Magna Doodle. “Keep in mind, however, that even the simplest of spells require focus, concentration and control. Gertrude, let’s see you try.”

A mousy looking girl, about fifteen years old—though her braided pigtails made her seem even younger—stood. She looked around the room, very proudly. Willow rolled her eyes. Gertrude was a teacher’s pet and made a point of being rude to everyone outside of her circle of friends, especially Willow.

“Pluvia flosus,” Gertrude said, watching smugly as the flowers fell to the floor.

“You can do better than that. Do it again. And do it better,” Althenia urged.

Gertrude, looking a little hurt, repeated the spell, a little unsure of herself. More flowers cluttered the floor at her feet.

“Again. Better than that,” Althenia commanded.

Gertrude’s face betrayed her agitation as she once again covered the ground with flowers.

“That is just pathetic, Gertrude. One more time,” Althenia said sternly.

Gertrude looked up, her face red, her smugness now replaced with frustration, humiliation and resentment. “Pluvia flosus!” she said in a voice laced with ire. The flowers began whirling around the room, attacking the other students, driving many of them beneath their desks. Gertrude stood stunned, unable to stop the hurricane of flora.

“Finis, purgare” Althenia called out, clearing the room. “You can come out from under your desks now,” she said. “Thank you, Gertrude.”

Gertrude sat down, a little disoriented. Willow felt a tinge of satisfaction at Gertrude’s deflation. The corners of her mouth began to turn up before the reminder of her own loss of control pulled them back down. Would she have done any better? Ever?

History showed otherwise. She nearly killed her friends when Oz left. She was developing a pattern. Apparently nearly getting her friends killed was her way of dealing with loss. A slide show of spells gone wrong ran through her brain. Had she really been that bad? That out of control?

Yes, came the answer. Yes, yes, a million times yes. Willow tried to shake the thoughts from her head and turned her attention back to the class.

“Sorry to make you my guinea pig, Gertrude, but I think you’ve done a brilliant job of demonstrating the importance of control, both mental and emotional. A simple spell can easily get out of hand without focus. It’s easy to forget that,” Althenia said.

Willow felt her cheeks burn. She looked down at her desk, certain everyone was now thinking of her, of her lack of control. Some people had even turned to look at her and snicker.

“Now I want you all to pair up, and practice this spell. Try to provoke each other and work on control. And remember to clean up after yourselves,” Althenia instructed.

Willow watched as the girls around her paired up. She watched as they lightheartedly tried to push each other’s buttons, as they giggled and talked and enjoyed their lesson. She felt like she’d always be the outside observer. And maybe it was better that way.

She sat back in her chair, glad that there were an odd number of students. Glad, for once, that no one ever wanted to have anything to do with her.

“Don’t feel like participating?”

Willow looked up, startled, to find Althenia standing next to her. “I don’t have a partner,” Willow said, hoping that would be a sufficient excuse.

“I’ll be your partner,” Althenia offered with a smile.

“Oh, well, I don’t really think that I can. I mean, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Willow said, swallowing hard.

“What’s the problem,” Althenia asked, pulling a chair over. “Anything you want to talk about?” she continued as she sat down.

“Oh, uh, it’s really not, I mean, I just don’t feel like, it’s just not a good day for me to be doing magic,” Willow answered. It was never going to be a good day for magic. Not for her.

Althenia nodded, clearly unconvinced. “Okay. But if you ever feel like talking, about anything, I want you to know that I’m here for you,” she said with a smile.

Willow watched Althenia leave to help another student and felt like crying. Why didn’t any of them understand that she couldn’t do magic? Giles, Ms. Harkness, all of them. They kept insisting that she do the very thing that had torn her apart.

Althenia was so nice, but she wouldn’t understand, no one understands.

Willow felt completely alone.

Willow slowly gathered her books together, waiting for the class to empty. She always did this. She waited for the classroom to empty before moving from her isolated corner of the room, so she wouldn’t have to walk through them. So she wouldn’t have to face the derision and apprehension.

She looked up and saw a group of girls dawdling at the door. Of course it had to be Gertrude and friends. The girls kept looking out the door, turning back to giggle and talk, not moving. Willow sighed. She couldn’t stay in this room forever. All she wanted to do was return to the solitary escape that was her room. But that meant passing through the giggling gaggle.

Willow stood, determined to leave the room. She hedged closer to the door, losing her resolve as she neared the girls. She stopped a few feet away, unsure how to get past them. Their backs were turned to her, their focus on the object outside, and there was no way around them.

“Look at him, he’s so….” Gertrude sighed and fanned herself.

“Doesn’t he look like he’s waiting for someone?” a blonde girl asked. Michelle? Michela? Some ‘M’ name. Willow hadn’t really learned everyone’s names yet. Of course, the fact that she avoided the students and classes so much really didn’t help.

“I bet he’s waiting for Sarah,” Gertrude said, teasing a shy but beautiful brunette girl.

“Oh yeah! Didn’t he smile and say hi to you?” M-name asked, excited.

Sarah smiled and blushed. “Well, just the once,” she said, embarrassed.

“Oh! I know his name!” M-name gushed. “When I went to the loo today, I heard Ms. Harkness call him Daniel!”

“Daniel,” Gertrude sighed. “It’s the perfect name for him.”

Willow furrowed her brow. That was Oz’s name. She stood on her tiptoes to look beyond them. All she could see was a shock of blue hair. Oz. He was waiting for her! Excitement and glee ran through her body, but was quickly chased away by an overwhelming feeling of apprehension and a tiny bit of guilt.

“It’s Oz!” Willow blurted out, shocking herself.

The girls turned to look at her. “What was that?” Gertrude asked, looking at Willow like something that had been dug out of the garbage can.

“The guy, Daniel, he’s, I mean, everyone calls him Oz,” Willow sputtered.

Gertrude snorted, disdain on her face. “What do you know?” she asked snottily. “You may not believe it, but trying to end the world doesn’t make you God,” she sneered.

The other girls got quiet. “Gertie, don’t,” Sarah whispered. “You don’t know what she might do.”

Willow’s face fell a little, hurt. Her confidence drained from her body. It would always be this way, and she deserved it. She looked at Gertrude’s contemptuous face and suddenly felt her anger flair up. Who gave her the right? What did she know about anything?

Willow pulled herself together and walked towards them. Her mind was working to find something to throw at them, unable to resist the urge to show the rat-faced girl exactly how little she knew about everything. She swallowed hard, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she was hit with a wave of shame. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. It was so petty. She needed learn how to suppress the flickers of resentment and the urges to exact some kind of revenge. This was exactly the kind of thing that got her into this. She couldn’t go there again. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to go away. It was so hard.

Her emotions mostly under control, she walked towards the door. She felt a tingle of triumph as she imagined their faces when Oz came up to talk to her. That would show them. But what if he wasn’t there for her? What if he really was there for Sarah? What if it wasn’t even Oz? What if he turned away from her, refused to talk to her? What if he was scared of her too? With each step Willow grew more and more anxious about seeing him. Her heart was beating fast and her palms were sweaty.

She looked up and saw him, and froze. She couldn’t make herself move. She didn’t want to know that he didn’t want to talk to her.

Oz looked straight at her and smiled. The kind of smile most people didn’t believe he was capable of.

“Hey,” he said as he walked towards her.

Willow’s tension and anxiety drained from her. Relief flooded over her and she threw her arms around him without thinking, hugging him tightly.

“Oz, I’m so happy to see you.”

Surprised but pleased, Oz returned her embrace.

The feel of his arms around her brought her back to this world. She jumped back, mortified.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I mean, I wasn’t expecting—Giles said,” Willow sputtered.

“It’s okay, Will. I’m happy to see you to,” Oz said.

Willow looked into his eyes, looking for a trace of sarcasm. There was none. She grinned widely for the first time in weeks. It felt good on her face.

“Giles gave me his blessing,” Oz said, understanding her string of disconnected thoughts the way he always had. “You wanna go for a walk?”

“I would love to,” Willow answered, as they moved toward the front of the house.

Suddenly, Gertrude felt like a distant memory.