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Buffy looked up from the bar, ready to be distracted by anything, by anyone. The pain on Willow's face almost changed her mind. “Two more,” Buffy all but whispered to the bar tender, dropping her eyes. Willow shot her a miserably grateful glance as she sat down without speaking, then looked away again, towards the woman on stage. Who needed to speak? She was singing every word. Giles was gone. Tara was gone. Mom. Dad. Reilly. Angel. Oz. Empty handed love, nothing to hold on to.
An then, a hand did reach for Buffy's, across the bar, across the space between them. Across the things that could never be said, never be known, never be forgiven. Not like a rope to a drowning man, more like another drowner to drown with, Buffy held tight to Willow's hand. One thing she knew about Willow, Buffy thought sardonically, at least she wouldn't let go. The truth was, right now she needed that, more than anything.
Buffy remembered the first time they'd sat at this bar together, talking about life like they knew a goddamned thing about it, when death had still been the worst thing in the world. There had been a moment, way back then, a feeling of something that almost happened but didn't. At the time, Buffy hadn't even known what it was. It was only in retrospect that she recognized the starry look in Willow's eyes that night. Without thinking, without daring to think, Buffy reached backwards in time, grasping for that moment, ready to hold on tight.
Willow was startled for a second. She pulled back just a little as Buffy leaned in for the kiss. But it was only for a second. The next second, she met Buffy's kiss and returned it hungrily, holding tight to her hand the whole time. When at last the kiss ended and she broke away, Buffy looked into Willow's eyes. There were tears in her eyes. There was fear. There was pain. But there was hope there too. And there was love.