Willow feels a little bit like a traitor, actually, as she steps up to the end of the three-person line waiting to pay at the cash register�well, not a real traitor, with the whole actual betraying thing. But guilty, yes, definitely a little bit guilty, because Xander always says things like, "Come on, Will," and "Never underestimate the power of a slurpee," and "Cold icy goodness, Will, at your fingertips," and she always answers with things like, "Not tonight, Xander," or "It�s almost dinner time! It�ll turn my tongue bright red (green, blue, insert neon color of your choice here) and my parents will know!" or "It�s winter, Xander� Not exactly cold icy goodness weather. Remember that weekend last month? With the snow?"

And yet, here she is. All by her lonesome. Standing in the line at the 7-11. Her hand wrapped around a turquoise blue raspberry slurpee.

So, yes, guilt. So, yes, she�s being traitorous, but also?

She really doesn�t care, because she�s mad at Xander, and while she knows that really, she�s being petty, it also feels pretty darn good.

Better than good, actually. She�s being a rebel, doing the bad, the unexpected�she said that she was going to go home, do her homework, and yet, she�s here�and as she drops her buck-nineteen onto the counter, as she heads for the door, it makes her feel downright giddy. So giddy, in fact, that she almost imagines she�s carrying something like contraband out with her, and that�s the reason she�s in a sort of stealth mode as she steps out into the parking lot. That�s why she starts when she hears her name, fumbles the slurpee, and entertains visions of it going splat on the ground before she manages to balance it again.

Her first thought is that it�s Buffy calling out to her, maybe even with Xander in tow, ready to grovel, but before she can make an itemized list of the reasons why that can�t be (namely, lack of car) she recognizes the voice and it�s not Buffy, not at all. It�s sharper, harder, and when Willow turns, she sees Faith leaning up against a pay phone at the edge of the parking lot, hands in the pockets of her jeans, her jacket open even though it is winter, and there was that whole freak snowstorm the month before.

"Well, well," Faith says, pushing�or maybe, given the movement of her hips, her torso, rolling would be a better term for it�her body away from the phone booth. "Look who decided to show up on the wrong side of town."

"Faith," Willow says. "Hi."

"Hi," Faith says, drawing the word out to at least two syllables, rolling it�again with the rolling�across her tongue. She�s smiling, smirking, almost, and as Willow watches, she raises her hand and runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it back, away from her face. "Fancy meeting you here," she continues, and Willow finds herself giggling, almost nervously, even though she has no reason to be nervous at all.

"Yeah," Willow says. "Surprise, surprise." And then raising her slurpee in Faith�s direction, she says, "Well, I�ve really got to be going�"

Before she can even turn towards her father�s car, though, Faith is there beside her, then past her, taking a running leap for the hood, and Willow has only a moment to cringe before the impact comes, but with typical Slayer grace, Faith lands lightly on the bumper, and sits herself down.

"Sit," Faith says, patting the metal beside her, her hand making a soft thunk-thunk noise. "Talk. Stay awhile."

Willow brings her slurpee to her lips and takes a sip as she reaches into her pocket and grabs her car keys. Lifts them up so that Faith can see them, says, "I really need to be getting home. I have a lot of�"

"Homework?" Faith asks, eyebrow arched. "Yes, I heard. I heard that was why you weren�t at the library, reading up on the latest rumor of badness that Giles heard floating through the Great Watcher Grapevine. I heard that you�d had to get right home and get right on it, so imagine my surprise to see you here."

Another smile, slowly blossoming this time, and Willow doesn�t like it one bit, so she lifts the slurpee in her other hand. "Brain food?" she asks. "I mean, sugar and flavored water are very important parts of the �must get lots accomplished� study diet."

"And I might believe that," Faith says, "if I hadn�t also heard about a little argument you had with our boy Xander after gym this afternoon." She leans backwards, so her elbows are planted firmly on the hood. "He told me all about it."

"Oh did he," Willow hears herself saying, before she can remind herself that she�s trying to play it cool here, that her being here at the 7-11 has nothing to do with Xander or begging off of research, or, well, anything to do with anything.

Faith�s smile goes liquid again. "Yes, he did. He was sitting at the table, moping instead of watching Buffy do her workout, and you know that there�s something going on when he�s not taking every opportunity he can to ogle her."

And that just makes what anger Willow managed to repress since gym class bubble right up again, because Xander, and his women, and, just.

Grr.

Apparently she says that last part out loud, because Faith is laughing at her, letting her head tip backwards, hair dripping down the onto the hood of her father�s car.

"Grr," Faith echoes. "That�s as good a description as I�ve ever managed to come up with, so sit, tell me about it, because he was acting way too innocent for it to not be his fault."

Slowly, Willow walks to the car, and sits. She doesn�t lean back like Faith has, instead sitting up as straight as she can. This was not part of her plan, obviously.

Her plan consisted of getting the slurpee, because she could, and then going home and actually doing her homework. Letting pages of calculus equations soothe her mind, because numbers could do that for her. And then maybe, sometime after dinner, she�d give Oz a call and they�d talk, or maybe go do something, but maybe not, because Oz is a boy, and no matter that he�s not Xander, she�s not sure that she has any real desire to spend time with him either. Because, well, boy, and she is, as evidenced by her earlier statement, in a boys grr mood.

"Can I?" Faith asks, breaking into Willow�s thoughts, and Willow has no clue what she�s asking, whether or not she missed some question or statement, but when she looks over at Faith, the other girl is holding her hand out towards Willow�s slurpee, and Willow says, "Oh, yeah, sure," and hands it over. With nothing in her hands now, she pulls her legs up to her chest, and stares out at the parking lot. Grey pavement, cracked, with weeds growing upwards.

"It�s nothing, really," she says finally, a few minutes later, and as she says the words, she realizes it�s true. Suddenly, it doesn�t feel like such a big deal any longer. "Xander�s just being a stupid-head." She tips her head to the side then, resting her cheek against her knees, and watches as Faith takes a pull of the slurpee through the bright red straw. She swallows, then hands the drink back to Willow, but Willow just sets it down on the car hood between them.

"Boys usually are," Faith says, staring off into the distance, and Willow nods. Faith continues: "So, tell me. Why's he being stupid?"

"He blames me, I think," she says after another few moments. "For his breakup with Cordelia. And I mean, okay, he should, because we were totally, well, you know�" And Faith does know, because she�s smirking at Willow again, looking almost proud. "But what he really can�t stand is that Oz took me back, and Cordelia won�t even look at him, and he just made one comment too many today, about me and Oz. About the two of us and our apparent happiness, and I, well, I guess you could say I lost it."

"B said it was pretty dramatic," Faith says, and the smirk is still there. It was even in her voice now, barely contained laughter. "Said you stomped your foot and everything."

She kicks one of her feet out in what might be an imitation of a stomping motion, and it looks funny, so funny that Willow giggles, and as she does, she feels the anger she�s still feeling start to drain away.

"I did," Willow says, her voice rising, and she can hear an edge of laughter there, too. "In the middle of the hallway, even. I stamped my foot, said, �Xander Harris, you are just so�� and then I stomped off down the hallway. I created a scene."

She picks the slurpee up again and takes a long drink, draining a quarter of the plastic cup in one pull. It tastes sweet yet sharp in her mouth, as it melts across her tongue, good, empowering, and she smiles at the memory of the afternoon. Of Xander, standing alone in the hallway, his mouth opening and closing, with no words coming out.

"And we are all very proud of you," Faith says. "Score one for Willow, standing up to the male of the species. Because guys, sometimes you just have to put your foot down. Like you did. You told him."

"I did," Willow says, nodding seriously, but she�s not quite sure whether Faith is teasing her again�she�s never been quite sure of that line with Faith, between friendly teasing and vindictiveness�but she doesn�t sound like she�s pulling a fast one on Willow. She sounds like she might actually mean it.

"What he really needs to do is move on," Faith says lowly, and there�s something in her voice, all of a sudden, something that makes Willow want to sit up straight again, but she can�t place it, could very well be imagining it, so she says, "Yes, he does." Because that is what she wants too.

Faith holds out her hand for the slurpee again, and Willow hands it over, and they sit there in silence for a minute or two. Then, Faith says, "You want me to go back to the school? Tell Xander he�s being an ass? That he should come apologize."

Willow thinks about that for a moment, about Xander showing up at her house, apologetic. She thinks about going back to the school, holding her slurpee cup, and she can picture the look on Xander�s face, pathetic and puppy doggish. How good it would feel to be able to say, "yes, I went, and no, I didn�t bring you any."

But while ten minutes before, even, she thinks it would have felt grand, now, not so much. Because she�s laughed about it now, smiled about it now, told someone about it, and the anger is gone. Mostly. It will be all gone by tomorrow, she thinks, and then she�ll be able to watch Xander mope after Cordelia. Complain that his life isn�t fair. Look at her and Oz with that jealousy in his eyes, the �I should have that too� look.

"No," she says finally. "I think that he�s learned his lesson." Again, she makes her voice light, almost teasing, and that makes Faith smile.

"It�s a lesson he won�t soon forget," Faith says. Then she hops off of the car, turns around, her hands in the front pockets of her coat, and says, "Well, okay then. I guess I�ll let you get back to your studying. Or, slurpee drinking. Or playing hooky from research. Whatever you�re calling it today."

Willow smiles. " Yeah, I should do that," she says. Then, as Faith turns and starts to walk back across the parking lot, she calls out, "Hey, thanks for listening."

Faith looks back over her shoulder. "Hey, I like to know the latest gossip as much as the next girl. And what better place to get it than from the source?"

Willow feels a flash of something�hurt, maybe, from the idea that Faith had been using her just to get the story, the gossip, but then she thinks, no, because Faith had to have known that it wouldn�t be that interesting of a story to begin with, because, well, it�s Xander and Willow. So, she raises her slurpee cup in a mock toast, and Faith grins back at her, widely, genuinely.

She watches as Faith walks away, saunters, hands in pockets, and she stays on the hood of her car until Faith is out of sight.