The Promise by Criss Moody

Date: October 26, 2000
Rating: PG-13 for a few bad words
Pairing: Willow/Oz (mention of Buffy/Giles, Xander/Cordelia, and Willow/Tara)
Summary: Oz finds his way back to Willow
Notes: This takes place a few years after Buffy and Giles’ deaths in "Together," a story I posted to the lists about a month ago. "Together" should be read before this story, but this will probably still make sense if you don’t. The title comes from a song by Tracy Chapman, and I’ve included the lyrics at the end, because it’s such a beautiful song.
Thanks: To my awesome beta, Janine Ose.

Willow Rosenberg smiled crookedly as she set the last photo on the wooden mantel of her new house. Finally, after five years of college and living in dorms and ratty apartments, the auburn haired hacker had her own house. The payments would be easy to handle; her new position at CynEx Designs would bring in a lot of money. Ms. W. Rosenberg had the great honor of being the youngest software designer in the history of the company. Of course, the company was only 10 years old, but in computer terms that was eons.

Will's attention switched from job thoughts to the picture she had just put up. She, Xander, and Buffy sprawled on the grass in front of the high school their senior year. It had been lunch hour and the picture had been Oz's idea. At the thought of the werewolf/musician, Willow's gentle smile faltered a bit, but just a bit. Her recovery from Oz's departure had taken time, though not as much as she had thought it would. Eventually, the heart-ripping-out-of-chest pain wasn’t the only thing she thought about anymore.

When Buffy and Giles died nothing seemed to matter anymore. There was a baby to take care of, a new Slayer to think about, and so grief, both old and fresh, had to be put aside for the now. And the now was where Willow Rosenberg had been living for quite awhile.

She'd lost her new best friend to a faster, smarter, and nastier demon. She had, however, happily given her oldest friend to her oldest enemy. Xander and Cordelia would celebrate their fourth wedding anniversary in a week, on Valentine's Day. They had thought that getting married on that day would be particularly ironic for them. Unfortunately, no one else seemed to really appreciate the humor of joining in holy matrimony on the same day that you once broke up on.

Willow fingered the silver frame of the photo, turning away from the fireplace. Her intelligent green eyes surveyed the sunlit room, taking in the crème colored walls, the blue and rose rugs. Pictures, check. Lamps, check. Furniture, check. Toddler proofing, check. She smiled. At least one beautiful thing had come from Buffy's death. Willie had her run of all her adopted aunts and uncles houses and Willow's was no exception.

These days, Willow thought about toddler proofing rooms, writing software programs, and what to bring to the weekly Scooby Gang reunion dinner. A far cry from the days when the most pressing thing on Willow's mind had been how to sneak out of her room to wield her magic on naughty supernatural forces. Where once the lovely hacker had given up on romance, she had a gentle, uncomplicated relationship with Tara, a fellow witch and sometime member of the Gang. Willow never felt the need to explain herself to Tara or go any further than being with her whenever their schedule allowed. With the fair- haired woman, there was little intensity or complex feeling. The simplicity of the relationship filled a part of Willow that she hadn't even known she had. She would never forsake the time she had with Oz, but Tara was much easier on her heart. True love is great for Shakespeare, but it makes real life a real bitch.

Speaking of real life, Willow switched from thoughts of her personal life to her work life without trouble. Settling herself into her plush leather desk chair, the slim woman brushed one finger against her laptop's touchpad. The screen sprang to life and a short beep accompanied the announcement that Willow had an instant message. The name on the incoming message was unfamiliar, but she got strange messages all the time from potential clients. A new job could be in the making.  Willow squirmed with a small bit of hacker-like joy and accepted the message.

From: anicracker1

To: cynexW

::Hey.::

Hey? That's it? A small nose scrunched in confusion. Her clients were usually a tad more loquacious.

::Hello! How can I help you?::

Silence. After more than a minute of no reply, Willow started to reply when a short yet shattering answer spread onto the screen.

::Will, it's Oz.::

Willow tried to make her hands rise from her lap where they were rubbing against each other, but her limbs seemed unwilling to cooperate.

::Will, please...please don't freeze me out. I'm in Sunnydale, at my parents' house. Can I come see you?::

A choked cry forced itself out of tightly closed lips. Willow slapped her hand against her mouth as the tears washed her cheeks. He was back, Oz was back, he wanted to talk to her, and it wasn't perfect anymore. Why? Hadn't she been through enough? Where was he when Buffy died? When Giles died? When Willow gave her best friend in marriage? Suddenly, the redhead much preferred her former lover, and mate if she dared call him that, to reside in the past, where he could remain a happy memory. Now the ugly, ripping memories came back, Oz naked with Veruca, Oz leaving her crying in his bedroom, Oz nearly ripping Tara to shreds after his inability to conquer his beast.

::Say the word Will, and I'm gone.::

Her hand shaking, Willow typed.

::782 Fairlee Drive::

She closed the window and the computer before walking over to her sofa.   Time to lay old demons, pardon the pun, to rest. Willow drifted in and out of reality, sometimes thinking about an event 6 or more years ago, sometimes noting that she really needed to dust. There had to be at least an inch of dust under her coffee table. Some things just never got taken care of in the right way, like dusting and emotionally scarring breakups.

A hesitant knock at the door brought Willow surging up from her seat on the couch. Tripping over the coffee table, she caught herself with the palms of her hands before tumbling to the ground. Before she lost all sense of coherency and reality, Willow swept open the front door to reveal a medium-sized, blonde-haired, solemn man.

Oz tried to smile and failed as he met Willow's wavering gaze. The two former lovers just stood there, both swaying a bit as they registered five years of change. Oz had dyed his hair blonde, but the roots were still red. Willow had grown her hair long again, and she wore less eye-breaking combinations of colors. Finally, their gazes fell into the same place. The moment stretched and stretched until someone had to make a move or the world itself would have shattered.

"Nice hair."

"Thanks."

Willow virtually hurled herself at Oz, who immediately opened his arms to her. He groaned, squeezing her tighter, inhaling her uniquely human scent. Willow wanted to say something, something intelligent and erudite and just right for the moment, but she settled for knowing that she was still in the right place in her life.

Oz had left, Buffy and Giles had died, her best friend had committed the ultimate sin against the We Hate Cordelia Chase Club, Willow had found a new, less complex love, Buffy's daughter existed amongst love and support, Xander and Cordelia had a beautiful boy named Drew, and Oz had come back.

Was his journey for self-acceptance over? Had he conquered his beast or finally accepted it? Who cared, Oz was in her arms, and that was right, oh so right.

"Sweetie, you're muttering."

Willow blushed when she realized she'd said most of her previous thoughts out loud. "It's just, well, full-circle, you know. You left and things happened but then you came back and well, I'm happy."

"Yeah? I'm kinda hopin' you'll be happy enough to let me be in your life again." At the shell-shocked look on the redhead's face, Oz jumped into his next statement. "Just, you know, maybe have coffee, or eat cookies in the park, something like that."

"Nothing serious, huh? Just coffee?" Willow grinned, remembering her heated remarks to a vampire friend once upon a time regarding his disregard for her best friend's feelings.

"Pretty much. It's a pretty serious commitment, coffee. What kind, fresh ground or store bought, cold water or not, spring or tap, French Roast or Java Jive, it's a big thing."

Leaning back from the embrace, the fair complexioned witch traced the face before her. Serious, so serious yet tender, and desperate to please. Willow nearly giggled at the sheer immensity of joy rolling around inside of her. She needed to put Oz out of his misery though. She hated to see him hurt, even now.

"Just promise me one thing."

"Name it."

"You'll always come back to me."

"Never doubt it."

Without a backward glance, Willow walked into her future joyfully, her face glowing with the receipt of a solemn promise.

"Coffee would be really nice."