How many nights had she lain awake and trembling in this room with its blooming wisteria-print wallpaper? Too many nights. So many love-drenched nights imagining the taste of his lips, the pale half-moons of his fingernails. That last summer, that last year of high school, she burned like a thin white taper. You're carrying a torch for him, aren't you? A torch? She had been a conflagaration, the fire of her longing searing the cornfield, the baseball diamonds, the school hallways, the pond. Every place that belonged to them. She tossed and turned in the narrow twin bed of her girlhood. Tomorrow was eons, light-years away.

**********************************************

She dreaded the first day of school. She always had. Would always pretend she had more slow, hot, hazy summer hours left. The first day of senior year was the same and completely different. She both ran towards and away from it. It was the dawning of her new desire and the last fading hour of their time together. Because she was in love and she was in loss. After that year, they would be torn apart. He would go to college and she? She didn't know where she would be.

It was already so different. That first morning of senior year, she walked into school alone. It had always been their ritual to eat breakfast at her house and go to school together on the first day. Her mother always made blueberry walnut flapjacks, his favorite. And they would sit at her kitchen table, eating and disconsolately taking inventory of the notebooks and number two pencils that signified the start of their imprisonment. That morning she had come down the stairs to only see one place setting. She wanted to crawl back in her bed and never venture out. The waking world was hard and bright and violent.

They had agreed the day before that they were getting too old for such a ritual. He would pick up Dru at the rosy bricked mansion on Taylor Lane and she would walk to school alone. Well he had brought it up, and she had agreed. I am loving you. I am losing you. The flapjacks tasted like ashes in her mouth. 'Why are you just picking at your food, dear? I thought you loved these.' She loved them because he loved them. Everything he loved, she loved, because those things belonged only to them. He loved Dru. And she...she did not. It wasn't charitable, it wasn't Christian. Didn't Father Caleb always say 'love thy neighbor, love thy foe'? Oh, she was a wicked girl. For when he said that in church Sunday mornings, her eyes would be fixed on the back of Dru's shiny dark head humbly bowed in prayer. And she would secretly pray for her to fall down dead. Her envy was only matched by her fear that God would descend, in a burst of furious white light, to smite her for her dark thoughts. 'Thou shalt not covet what thou cans't not have.' And this was her punishment, to walk into school for perhaps their last year together, alone and bereft.

Of course, the first thing she saw when she walked through the heavy wooden school doors was them. Leaning against his locker, talking in those low, soft tones only lovers seemed to know. Dru saw her first, before she could duck around the corner to hide her flaming cheeks, her evil, envious eyes burning with tears of shame and hatred.

"Hi Buffy! Can you believe we're stuck back here already? Where did the summer go? Oh, you look so nice today. That dress really brings out the green in your eyes. Is it new?"

Her hands clenched around the notebooks she clutched to her chest as they looked at her. His eyes cool and inscrutable, Dru's face wreathed in a sincere and slightly timid welcoming smile. Oh, she hated, hated, hated her. It was her sin to hate this kind girl who had everything she wanted. Had the one thing she valued above all. It was her sin to always turn away in anger and defeat every time this girl tried so hard to be her friend. 'Hi Buffy, it's Dru. Am I inconveniencing you? No? Oh, good. My parents are having a pool party next Friday for my birthday. It'll be horribly dull but I would love it if you would come. Will and I really want you there. Oh, you'll come? Wonderful! It wouldn't be any fun without you. Oh, no. Please don't bring a gift. Really.' And she had put down the telephone and went down to Miss Glory's Fine Dress Shop with her entire life savings to buy the loveliest thing she could find. To do her penitence. When Dru unwrapped the sky blue Chinese silk scarf printed with golden butterflies, she'd hugged her frozen form with tears in her eyes. 'Thank you so much Buffy. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Will, Will, come here and look at what Buffy gave me. Will get over here! Xander and Angel can be without you for a minute, can't you boys? Look at this, love. Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen? I adore it Buffy. I'm going to wear it until it falls to bits. Oh, Will isn't she just the best?' and he had kissed Dru on the temple and told her she was the loveliest thing he'd ever seen and that she was the best.

And she'd excused herself to use the bathroom where she vomited a thin, red stream from the three glasses of punch she had consumed. When she came out of the bathroom, Dru was wearing the scarf, slow-dancing in his arms to 'Love Me Tender.' When Dru saw her she made Will go get her a piece of birthday cake and had grasped her cold hand. 'I'm so sorry you missed the cake-cutting. I told Daddy we had to wait for you Buffy, but Will, Xander, and Angel kept yelling for cake. Honestly, aren't boys just the dumbest things sometimes?' When Will had come up to them holding a giant slice of pristine white birthday cake, she had withdrawn her hand from Dru's soft, perfectly-manicured one pleading a headache and lying that her mother was expecting her home. She'd lain in bed through the slow hours of darkness that night, imagining he was giving Dru his own present with his lips and hands. She had touched herself *down there* for the very first time that long night, pretending her icy shaky fingers were his hot steady ones stroking her secret place, coaxing her to bloom for him. The way she had seen him stroke Dru, his hand under her skirt, when they were fifteen. Before she knew he lived in her own secret place.

"What planet are you on Summers?"

She jolted out of her thoughts to see them still looking at her. He was frowning at her in bemusement and Dru pinched him on the arm in admonishment, staring at her in concern.

"Hush Will, bad dog. Are you okay Buffy? You look pale."

"I'm fine, thank you. And no, this dress isn't new. It was my mother's. I haven't...I haven't had any time to do back to school shopping." That was a lie, like all her other lies. They hadn't had any money so her mother nipped and tucked some of her old dresses. Trying so hard to make them look new for her. 'I'm sorry sweetheart. I wish we could go shopping for some nice new things for you. But we just can't afford it right now.'

"Well, I think it looks wonderful. Your mother must have been as slim as you. Goodness, you should see some of my mother's dresses. Absolutely horrid and enormous. Did I tell you she's on a diet again? All she eats is grapefruit. Yuck. And she's trying to get me to do it too. She said it was a good way for us to bond. I think she just thinks I'm getting fat. You're so lucky, Buffy. You've always been so tiny and thin. Doesn't she look lovely Will?"

Her face felt hot as he looked her up and down, his half-lidded eyes strolling lazily over her body. God, had his lashes always been that thick and golden and decadent? Another petal of her heart fell away and landed in his unaware hand.

"Not bad Summers. Not bad."

Dru rolled her eyes conspiratorially at her, as if they were blood sisters united in their disgust of the denseness of boys.

"Boys never understand how to compliment women."

They looked up to see Angel and Xander walking down the hall towards them. They clapped Will on the back and he passed around Lucky Strikes for a smoke break later in the boys bathroom. She could feel Angel's eyes on her and squirmed. She started to realize over the summer that he looked at her a lot. They didn't play baseball with her anymore but she knew he was always glad to see her because when she would join them for a milkshake at Sal's or a movie at the Sun Theater, he would try to be extra funny and nice. He would hold open doors for her and pull out chairs while Will rolled his eyes and Dru slapped his arm and demanded to know why he couldn't have some gentlemanly manners like Angel. Dru liked Angel and she liked Angel. Hell, everyone did. He was a swell guy, kind and smart and hard-working and handsome. The kind of upstanding young man any parents would be happy to have waiting on their doorstep with flowers for their daughter and any girl would consider a great catch. Because he was the opposite of Will. Girls whispered about William Strickland James in closed bathroom stalls but they dated Angel Liam O'Connor in the open. Except for Dru. And her.

"It's nice to see you Buffy. You haven't been around as much this summer."

"Er, it's great to see you too, Angel. Um, I've been kind of busy. With things." She'd spent most of her time that summer hanging out and fighting with Will. When he hadn't been making cow-eyes with Dru, that is.

She shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Will from the corner of her eye. He was staring off into the distance, running a casually possessive hand up and down Dru's bare arm. She looked back at Angel who was staring at her, a pained, understanding expression flitting over his face. Before she could even blink, it was gone and he was good, old Angel again. Her brother by design if not by blood. Her partner in loving Will and not being loved back in the same degree. For Angel loved Will. Just as they all did. Her heart swelled a little for him. She understood better than anyone how much Angel admired and respected and hated Will. Because she felt the same way. Everything always came so easy for him. Great father, doting mother, adoring girlfriend. The town's golden summer son, readily forgiven for his trespasses, much-loved for his careless charm and fierce loyalty and lust for life.

It wasn't so much that Angel wanted to be him, but be the center of him. No one was the center of William, not even Drusilla. It was painfully obvious that there was a wildness, an intangibility about him that made him different. Often they would all be hanging out and he would grow quiet, his eyes far-off and murky. And they would all jostle for his attention, to be the one to bring him back to the ground where they were. It was the way he was. Easy to hold, impossible to really touch. She supposed he got that from the Chief. James men had always been on another plane, leaving everyone else fumbling, looking up to catch their attention.

Not that Will didn't love Angel in his own way. He loved all of them in his own way. But it was just not the way they wanted. Complete, total, without barriers. He loved from the sky and she and Angel and even Drusilla to a degree, loved from the earth.

Suddenly Will snickered and elbowed Angel, gesturing with that tilt of his head, in that way only he did, towards someone standing at the end of the hall. All their eyes swung in the same direction. They always followed him.

"Check out Wilkins, Peaches. She's making eyes at Floppy here." That was the trademark of Will's affection. If he cared about you, you got a nickname.

Angel was 'Peaches' because of the time when they were seven and he had vomited all over himself at the town's Fourth of July festival after having sneakily eaten a fifth piece of her mother's peach pie even though all the adults warned him not to. He'd been chubby ('stocky' her mother kindly called it) and quite the glutton when he was little. She remembered how Will and Xander had clutched each other howling as they watched Angel stumbling around holding his round tummy, face green and bits of chewed-up peach pie all over the front of his Superman tee shirt. 'Floppy' got coined when Xander handed that stuck-up priss Harmony Kendall a hand-made valentine in sixth grade and she had ripped it neatly in two and pointed giggling to his open fly 'I see London, I see France, I see Alexander Lavelle Harris' floppy-bear underpants!.' Angel and Will had batted their eyelashes and called him 'Floppy-Bear' for months after that, eventually shortening it to just 'Floppy.' Poor Xander. Everyone but him had known Harmony would practice her cursive by scrawling 'Mrs. William Strickland James, Mrs. Harmony James, Mrs. Harmony Strickland James' in big red hearts all over her notebooks. Dru was derisively called 'Princess' when Will was still young enough to think girls had cooties and then later 'Black Beauty' in his admiration when he'd caught her reading the book under her desk in math class and compared her to an intelligent, haughty, well-bred racehorse. Over-bred if you asked her opinion, which no one ever really did. And she? She was just 'idiot girl,' 'big baby,' and 'Summers.'

Faith Wilkins *was* staring at Xander. She was surprised. No one had any idea the requisite 'bad girl' of Espenson High School was even aware of Xander's existence. Angel snickered.

"Oh man, she is! She's sizzling. Look at that little red number she's wearing. I can't believe Snyder hasn't sent her home to change yet!"

Faith got called into the principal's office A LOT. Almost as much as that greaser Warren Meers.

Will hooted 'Hey pigeon! Looking good! Don't be shy. Come over and say hello. Xander-boy here doesn't bite. But I can't promise as much' and cuffed Xander on the arm. Xander turned thirty-two variations of white and slouched down lower, staring at Faith and then at the tile floor.

"Shut up, man! She's...she's nasty. I don't want her anywhere near me!"

"Oh, she wants to get nasty, all right. With you!"

Will and Angel slapped each others' backs, whistling and laughing at Xander. Xander looked up, face half-torn between disbelief and fear. He could never believe that any girl would like him. Everyone at school knew about his home life. About how his father was a drunk and how he and his mother cowered to old man Harris. He spent more nights at Will and Angel's houses than he did in the cramped two-bedroom space above his family's auto garage. The lights above Harris' Garage were always on, crashes and yells echoing at all times of the year and all hours of the night. He'd even shown up at her door one night, face bruised, eyes black. When her mother had tried to take him to the hospital, he'd finally broken down in her arms, crying and begging her not to.

"Really? I mean...No! That's disgusting! I'm leaving." Xander turned to shuffle off but Dru stopped him, her hand on his shoulder.

"Oh Xander, I think she's coming over here. Will, Angel! Hush up for pity's sake! Xander, please be nice to her."

She watched with her mouth open as Faith smirked at Will giving him the middle finger, and made her way towards them. She stopped dead in front of Xander, staring at him intensely until he stopped squirming and looked at her in panic. Angel and Will muffled their snorts of laughter behind their hands.

"Heya, Xander."

Xander looked wildly at Will and Angel, pleading for their help with his stricken brown eyes. When it became clear no help was forthcoming, he stuttered.

"What? Oh, hey uh...uh...Wilkins."

Faith sighed. It was plain to her and Dru that Faith was going to have to do all the work.

"So...what class do you have first period?"

Xander fumblingly took out his wadded-up class schedule from his back pocket.

"Um...er...Latin."

Faith's face split into a mile-wide grin as Xander sputtered.

"Hey, me too! Let's walk there together."

Before Xander could get a word in edgewise, Faith had grabbed his arm and half-dragged, half-marched him down the hall.

Angel shook his head in amazement as they all watched the pair walk off.

"Damn, that girl is good."

Will snorted in amusement.

"He's a goner. She's already got him wrapped around her finger."

"Yeah, looks like. But he's not the only one." Angel patted Will on the back and winked at Dru who flushed prettily when Will lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. She could taste her mother's flapjacks starting to rise up in the back of her throat. She looked away quickly and caught Angel staring at her, a mixture of sadness and hope in his tender dark eyes. She fiddled with the binding on her notebook, not wanting to see any more. Oh, she was in hell. God was punishing her for wanting Will, for hurting Angel.

"I have to go to class now." She started walking off.

"Right then, Summers." Will muttered distractedly as he and Angel compared class schedules.

Angel waved and called to her as she took off down the hall, his gentle voice ringing in her ears.

"Have a good class, Buffy. See you at lunch, usual table?"

She turned and waved back, nodding. Just in time to see Will give Dru a peck on the lips and lope off in the other direction to American Literature. He had shown her his class schedule yesterday afternoon while they lay on the bank of Shannon's Pond. 'Don't tell anyone this Summers, but American Lit is going to be great. I'm thinking I might try to be a writer like that Henry Miller guy. Maybe go to Paris and sleep with French ballerinas and get drunk on wine every day. Don't tell anyone alright?' She'd been torn between elation he was telling her about his dreams for the future, which he'd always refused to talk about except to joke that he was going to be like James Dean, live fast and die young and beautiful. But the other, darker half of her mind was afraid and crying that Paris was so far away. She'd asked him, 'What about Dru? Does she know?' Or am I the only one you trust with this? He'd avoided her true intent and joked, 'Naw. She'd try to get me to write poetry for her.'

Dru caught up with her, out of breath, slipping one long delicate arm through hers.

"Hey Buffy, wait for me. I'll walk with you. Ugh, I'm so glad we finally got away from those two. They're terrible aren't they? Making fun of poor Xander like that. Honestly, I really like Faith and I don't believe a word of what anyone says about her. She's just misunderstood, don't you think?"

Oh, she wanted to smack Dru in her pale, patrician face. I hate you with every fibre of my being. For having what is mine. For being so goddamn blind and kind and compassionate. I hate you for making it so hard to hate you. You're the one who misunderstands everything and everyone. How? How can you not know that I hate you? That I thirst for him like he is the last drop of water and I am a dying man in the desert? You don't understand anything.

"Yeah, she's just misunderstood."

Dru leaned in closer to whisper in her ear, the scent of lilies tickling her nose.

"Please don't think I'm trying to mess up your friendship with Will, but you're the only one I feel I can truly confide in. Cecily and Harmony would be scandalized, but you're so smart and understanding. I...I think I'm ready. I know that's shameful and awful of me. My mother would kill me, she always says that a lady should wait until her wedding night. But oh Buffy, I just love him so much. When he touches me...it's like...it's like I'm on fire. Oh, I know that sounds stupid. I'm not clever like him or you. But oh, how I love him and want to be with him in every way. Do you think that's horribly wicked of me?"

She stopped frozen in her tracks, staggered in the face of such honesty, such innocence, such unknowing purity. It's me, it's me. I'm the wicked one. The snake in the grass. Forgive me for what I cannot help. I cannot not love him just as you cannot. Forgive me.

When she looked into Dru's anxious, embarrassed face, and spoke, she believed and meant every word; the only truth she could give her.

"NO. I think it's natural. He loves you the same way. Just...just be careful. It's so easy to get lost in the heart. But then, I've never been in your place, so I can only offer this."

Dru hugged her and it felt like the gentle hands of God burning her from the inside out.

"Oh thank you, Buffy. You're the only honest friend I've ever had. But it's not true you know. You are in a similar place."

She stared at Dru in abject terror. Did she know?

"Angel loves you. So much. Will and Xander don't see it, but I do. I do. He breathes for you. Oh, I think I've been reading too many romance novels! But it's TRUE."

He breathes for me? The way I breathe for your Will? God, kill me and take my breath, for this is hell on earth. All she could do was stand there as Dru continued to demolish all their bricked up walls.

"Don't tell him I told you this, but he's going to ask you to the Welcome Back dance this weekend at lunch today. You'll say yes, won't you? It would make his year."

Oh, you foolish, sweet, meddling girl. How can you take care of me like this, when all I dream of is him?

"Yes. Of course it's yes." Maybe Angel with his honey-dark eyes could stop this. Could make her forget those eyes; summer-blue, clear as deep winter snow. Could save them all from her.

When she repeated those very same words to him later that day at lunch and he had whooped and hugged her, she felt as if she'd found salvation.

She sat there, her dangerous mind quiet at last, while Xander clapped Angel on the back and Dru patted his hand. She just sat there, feeling a curious peace. Watched Will's expressionless face, watched him drink his soda calmly. See. I can feel nothing too. I can be like you.

And then Faith, the new one at the table who didn't know them very well at all, leaned over. Looked at her gravely and whispered so low no one else could hear.

"I'm sorry, B."

Suddenly she was afraid she had started something that could not be undone.

***************************************

She lay there shivering despite the fan whirring hot air overhead. She had not thought of that day in a long time. When she left town, she'd pushed it into the darkest corner of her mind, where she kept Will for so many years. It was all her fault. She had ruined them all. She would have to see Angel too. She would have to see all of them. To make amends.

Who else will you see other than me? We have all fallen so far. He knew. He knew. Even before I did. Do you blame yourself? You shouldn't. All of it was because of me. Because I was blind even before this. Because I was afraid to see. I think when I was put here in the darkness, God did it because I wanted it all along. I didn't want to see, so He made sure I couldn't. Poetic justice, if you will. I had wanted to be a writer. A poet. Only you know that. Destruction was the only poetry I ever created. Forgive me. For He, just as I, cannot.

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