PART ELEVEN

Mary looked across the room, disconcerted at hearing someone refer to her real name. It was a young man, quite short, with dead black hair and eyes that seemed to go right through her. Right through her until they could see what was at the heart of her.

It was Oz. There wasn't anyone else it could be. But Mary didn't need the process of elimination to tell her the identity of the man. She already knew. Somehow, deep inside, she knew this was the man who had loved Willow. Who still loved Willow.

But she wasn't Willow any more.

Oz carried on looking at her, and Mary looked straight back, until she realised with a start the state of affairs in Sunnydale High School's library. Giles, Xander and Cordelia were frantically battling a large demon that was making a noisy hissing sound whilst creating the obligatory swirling vortex that every respectable demon used when dragging the world into hell. What windows 98 was to the world of PCs, so was the swirling vortex to demons of hell intent on the eradication of all mankind.

Giles, Xander and Cordelia... Mary frowned as Buffy's non-fighting-presence dawned on her. Where was the Slayer? Then Mary saw her. Lying on the floor, rocking back and forth, her face contorted with sorrow.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she kept repeating. "I should have gone. I should have saved you. I could have stopped them. It's all my fault. Oh, Willow, Willow!" Mary looked with pity on the torment Buffy was obviously going through. All this time, holding herself responsible for her best friend's death. Mary's face took on the 'resolved' aspect that was achingly familiar to Oz as he watched the woman his Willow had become.

"Buffy, listen to me." Her words had no effect on the distraught slayer, and Mary realised that the soft approach wasn't going to work. "Buffy Summers! Stop that at once! Willow's death wasn't fault. That is, Willow's death wasn't. It's me. I'm Willow. I'm not dead. So you can't be responsible for my death, because I'm right here. Not that you would be anyway," she added. "You're the Slayer. That doesn't make you omnipotent. But unless you start slaying, we're all going to be dead. Dead in Hell, as well, which is probably worse." Mary broke off. Buffy had stopped crying, and was looking up at her, searching the computer technician's face for signs of her old friend. Then she smiled, and Mary knew she was satisfied.

Having discovered that Willow wasn't dead did wonders for Buffy's motivation. She set aside the question of how and why Mary was Willow, and why she was back in Sunnydale, and concentrated on her everyday job of saving the world. She stood up in one easy motion, and contemplated the hissing demon for a moment. Contemplation over, she leapt at its weaker side - the one from which the hissing wasn't emanating - and delivered a vicious kick. While this had no perceivable impact on the demon's physical wellbeing, it had the unfortunate effect of stopping it hissing. Unfortunate for the demon, that was. For the others, the relief from the grating sibilants was something for which to be thankful.

But for the demon, all was not well. He had been getting along quite nicely thank you, and was nearing the end of his whole hissing routine. He had been expecting that everyone would shortly be descending into Hell. He hadn't been expecting to be clobbered by the slayer he thought he had disarmed with his cunning Jedi-thought-tactics, and the problem with the demon's dragging-the-whole-world-into-Hell plan was that there was a time factor involved. Random demons couldn't just pop into this reality on a whim. There were rules, protocol. If you had a prophecy, there was a certainly leniency. But woe betide your evil plans if you stayed too long without actually fulfilling said evil plans. The hissing routine had actually taken nearly half an hour. There wasn't enough time to start again.

The demon wasn't happy at this. In fact, the demon was about ready to blow his top. But the demon did actually possess common sense beyond that of your common-or-garden demon. He was a demon with brains. And he wasn't prepared to have those brains splattered about a library by a 5'2" slayer. He made a graceful retreat back into Hell.

And all was calm.

And anti-climactic.

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

As the demon disappeared back into Hell, silence fell. The occupants of the library were a little surprised, to say the least, by their easy victory. And as the dust settled, they turned one by one to face Mary.

Willow.

She looked like Willow, Giles acknowledged. He hadn't noticed it before. But then, he hadn't been looking for any resemblance before. After all, why should he? There wasn't any connection. The though struck him anew: Willow was alive and well and living in Pennsylvania. He wondered why she had left Sunnydale - her friends, her family, her boyfriend.

Xander was less calm. He had spent a long time trying to get over Willow's death. It had almost broken his heart, and, oddly enough, it ahd only been Cordelia's presence n his life that had kept him from drinking himself into an early grave. And now, here was Willow, come home. Well, damn her! He though explosively. If she had wanted to leave, she could just stay left for all he cared. And using a different name. How could she have been so callous? To listen to their memories of her, and not say a single word. His lip curled in disgust, and he turned his back on his childhood companion, his hand reaching for Cordelia's as the two of them left the library.

Buffy eyed Mary carefully. It was Willow. She had felt a moment of doubt as the demon disappeared, felt that Mary had been saying what she knew Buffy needed to hear. But there wasn't any doubt left. It was Willow. She remembered how the woman had talked non-stop as she explained her presence in the library, and smiled to herself. Then she remembered Oz.

Giles opened his mouth to question the prodigal slayerette more closely, then closed it abruptly as he felt himself being dragged towards what remained of the library doors. Looking down, he saw Buffy's blue-fingered hand attached to his tweed jacket, inexorably removing him from his personal hallowed ground. "What...?" Buffy gave him an evil look, and nodded her head towards Mary and Oz, who were warily looking at each other. Giles looked at his charge for a moment, his expression blank. Then his face cleared in understanding, and he followed Buffy without protest.

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

Oz watched his former girlfriend closely. She looked like Willow. She sounded like Willlow, from what he'd heard. But he doubted she was the same. Did it matter?

Mary looked at Oz, and wondered what he was thinking. His face was inscrutable. Had Willow been able to tell what he was thinking? Maybe he thought she'd run out on him. He wouldn't understand about her not remembering - how could he know, after all?

"I didn't leave," she said eventually. "I mean, I did, but not... That is, I don't remember. Anything. I mean, the last eight years, yes. But not before."

Oz's expression didn't change.

"I figured that."

Mary carried on heedlessly, "Because I wouldn't want you to think, y'know, that I'd just left you, 'cause I'm sure that's not at all what happened. I'm sure Willow would..I would never do that. To you. I.. loved you."

Oz's face took on a curious intensity. "You're sure?"

Mary nodded eagerly, then became aware of what she had said. "Oz, I'm not Willow, you know. I mean, yes, that's me," and she waved a hand, encompassing her body, "but I'm not the same person. I don't remember. I'm Mary Anderson, of Pittsburgh, PA. I work for a computing company. I'm a different person. I don't belong here."

Oz felt..empty. He had expected this; knew he had to accept what was best for Willow - whatever she decided to call herself. Because he still loved her. Then he wondered, What is best for her? He opened his mouth, and started to talk.

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

Outside the library, Cordelia and Xander were conversing in low tones as Buffy described in what Giles privately thought of as idealistically unlikely terms the probable scene in the library. She was in the middle of the part where the newly reunited couple fell into each other's arms, when the door swung open, and Mary emerged, closely followed by Oz. Buffy's face fell. Neither looked to be in a particularly romantic mood. Nor did they look as if they were on the verge of indulging in an orgy.

"I'm going back to Pittsburgh in the morning. I was only meant to be at the California office until the end of today; they're expecting me back at work tomorrow morning." With Mary's words, Buffy's face fell even further, and she looked at the woman in hurt astonishment.

"You're not staying?"

Mary smiled gently. "No. I really have to go back," she added, seeing Buffy's look of disbelief. She took her jacket from Oz, and then inclined her head towards him. "Oz will explain what happened to me." She started walking down the deserted school corridor, out towards the school lot where the faint sounds of the students and teachers could be heard.

Buffy, Giles, Xander, Cordelia, and Oz watched in silence as Willow walked out of their lives. Then, at the end of the hallway, she stopped and turned.

"I'll be back on Monday."

And she smiled her sweet Willow smile.

THE END

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