"Twirl me about and twirl me around,
 Let me grow dizzy and fall to the ground,
 And when I look up at you looking down,
 Say it was only a dream."
--Mary Chapin Carpenter

	She was thinking about the dream again.
	Willow walked down the street, a warm breeze at her back 
on this May night. The wind moved around her legs and toes, 
tickling her slightly, as she thought about the dream. Not 
the end; she didn't want to think about being exposed like that.
	She thought about Tara, and the smoothness of her back, 
and the way the room had seemed so warm and safe. Idly, she 
wondered if Tara had any paint.
	Not that there was any time for that. Finals were coming. 
She needed to study, which meant no Tara time, no Buffy time, 
and no...
	Xander?
	He was crossing the street about a block in front of her. 
She checked her watch; she'd finished the study session at Giles' 
a half hour ago, and now it was 1:30 am. Immediately, worry filled 
her heart. Was he being chased by something?
	"Xander!" she called out. He looked up from the ground and 
smiled at her wanly. As she walked up, she saw the look on his face. 
Frankly, he looked terrible. He looked exhausted.
	"Willow!" he said. "Hey. You shouldn't be wandering around 
so late."
	"I'm not wandering, I'm just going home...are you okay? 
You look like...um...a big tired guy."
	"A big tired guy?" Xander asked, smiling.
	"Sorry. The part of my brain that comes up with similes is 
asleep. Like you should be. Are you all right?"
	"Oh, yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. I'm just, you know, patrolling. 
Like I do."
	"Xander, even Buffy's in bed by now. Come on. I'll walk 
you home."
	"But..." Xander hesitated.
	"What is it?"
	"I don't wanna go home," he said, hating himself for his 
weakness and fear. "Look, I'm okay. I'll just walk. I--"
	"Is it your dad?" They fell into silence for a moment. 
"I'm sorry, I know you don't like to talk about--"
	"No," Xander said. "Actually, talking's good. Talking's 
okay. and it's not...well, it kind of is. It's complicated."
	"Come on," Willow said, taking his hand. "We'll walk and 
you can tell me."

	"It's about the dream," he said as they walked.
	"Really? Weird. I was just thinking about that."
	"Yeah, well, I'm guessing you had a little more fun in 
yours than I did."
	"It involved Riley in a cowboy outfit," Willow said. 
"Scared yet?"
	"Not because of that," Xander replied. "Well, a little 
because of that. It was..." He stopped. They were a block 
away from his house. "It was pretty random. Cheese Guy was 
there, Giles spoke French, Spike was wearing tweed, but no 
matter what happened..."
	He looked at the house, and Willow could feel him tremble. 
She tightened her grip on his hand, their fingers interlaced.
	"I'm right here," she said. "Nothing can hurt you if I'm here."
	He looked at her, a little surprised.
	"Remember?" she asked. "When we were kids, and I was scared 
of the thing under the bed. You told me nothing could hurt me 
because you were there. And it didn't."
	"The thing under the bed wasn't real, Will."
	"Only because it was out on the street," Willow said. 
"What happened?"
	"The basement," Xander said. "No matter what I did, 
where I went, what I wanted, I ended up back in that damned
basement."
	Willow released his hand and rubbed her hand reassuringly 
on his back.
	"I don't wanna go back, Will. I don't ever wanna go back 
to that damned place."
	"It's just a room, Xander."
	"I know, but...it scares the hell out of me."
	"How long has this been going on?"
	"Just a couple of nights. It's okay. Riley actually let me 
crash in one of the rooms at the frat house; most of the guys are 
gone anyway, but now they're closing the place up..."
	"So you were just going to walk around all night?!"
	"That was the idea, yeah."
	Willow looked up into his eyes.
	"I'm going to sleep with you tonight."
	Xander's jaw dropped so fast, he nearly dislocated it.
	"Sleep! Sleep! Emphasis on sleep!" Willow said hurriedly. 
"I mean...I don't think you should be alone right now."
	"You don't need to," Xander said. "I mean, I could go to 
Giles', crash on his couch..."
	"And what about tomorrow night? Or the night after that?" 
She took Xander's hand again. "The heck with that!"
	"Why are you getting so upset?"
	"Because you're the brave one," Willow said. "And when 
something gets you scared, it makes me mad."
	"I'm not brave."
	"Oh, stop it," Willow said, leading him towards the house.
	"I'm not."
	"Xander, I've seen you jump into a vampire fight to defend 
Giles. I saw you go marching into that house to rescue Buffy and 
Riley when no one else would. You put yourself between me and 
Ampata when she was trying to drink my lifeforce." She turned and 
looked at him. "You're the bravest person I know."
	It was very rare that Xander Harris had absolutely no idea 
what to say.
	"You just need to learn to be brave for yourself. Now...you need
some sleep."
	She led him towards the house in a kind of daze.

	Toothbrush dangling from the corner of his mouth, he checked 
the lock for the fifth time. Wouldn't budge. Good. Stay out.
	"...yeah. I'll see you in the morning." As he walked down the 
stairs, Willow was sitting on the side of his bed, hanging up the 
phone. "Just letting Buffy know where I was. Wouldn't want to be 
the cause of a big panicky thing."
	"Right. Panic not good." He looked at her perhaps a little 
longer than he should have. Her street clothes were folded on a 
chair, and now she wore one of his T-shirts and a pair of boxers 
which, on her, extended to her knees. The light glinted off a toe 
ring on her right foot.
	She's so damned beautiful...
	"You okay?" she asked.
	"Fine. Groggy." He headed into the bathroom, spit out the 
toothpaste and did a quick rinse. "First sleepover in a while, huh?"
	"Quite a while," Willow said, settling herself under the covers.
	He lay down next to her and stared at the ceiling.
	"Xander," Willow said. "Relax."
	"I'm relaxed. This is me relaxed. I've got a whole bedtime ritual."
	"Which involves laying flat on your back and staring straight ahead?"
	"Uh huh." He yawned. "I'm gonna turn out the light."
	"Okay."
	He leaned towards his nightstand and hit the light. The room 
was plunged into darkness. His heart rate immediately increased and 
he listened carefully for the sound of the cellar door.
	"You can't see it, but I'm wearing my resolve face, and I'm 
telling you to relax."
	"Right." He turned on his side and tried to pick Willow out 
of the darkness. "You're wrong, you know. You're a lot braver than me."
	"No, I'm not."
	"You've gone through a lot of changes over the past year. 
Even beyond the whole Tara thing."
	"Mmmm." She could feel the discomfort in his voice. "Well, 
it's not like it's been easy for you either."
	"Oh, yeah. Sell a few cones, drive around town..."
	"Plus the Anya thing."
	"The Anya thing."
	"She, um, doesn't come in in the middle of the night, does she?"
	"Not usually," Xander said.
	"And what would you say if she did?"
	"I'd tell the truth. My best friend and I are having a sleepover."
	Click.
	"Did you hear that?" Xander hissed.
	"No."
	"I think it's trying to get in."
	"Xander, it was only a dream."
	"Yeah. Yeah. Only a dream."
	He gasped at the hand on his arm; then he realized it was hers.
	"It's okay," she said, stroking the arm back and forth. "I'm 
here. And nothing can hurt you."
	Xander nodded and closed his eyes.
	"Nothing can hurt you," she whispered again, as sleep finally 
claimed him.

	He only woke up once during the night; it was about two hours 
later. Dim light from the street was filtering in through the basement 
windows. He could see some of Willow's hair shining in the light.
	The girl with the fire hair. That's how he'd described her to 
his mother, the day they'd--
	No.
	He didn't want to think about his mother.
	And especially not about his father.
	"Will," he whispered.
	No response.
	"I wish it was different, Will. I wish that you and I could..." 
He lay a hand on her side; she gave a tiny grunt in her sleep. "I wish 
that things were different."
	Tears were rising in his eyes now, sliding down his face.
	"But I can't change anything."
	He closed his eyes. He hoped for a dream, a dream of her, a dream
of fire hair and pale skin. His favorite dream.
	He relaxed, and sleep finally claimed him.

	He was snoring loudly when 6:00 rolled around. The snoring had 
roused Willow from sleep, and now she sat up in bed, Xander's head 
resting against her hip. She smiled down at him.
	It felt so right, somehow...
	She heard something from upstairs. She gently moved Xander's 
head to the side and padded across the room. She peeked up at the door.
	The knob wasn't moving.
	But she had heard it...she'd heard something...
	She sighed. Couldn't think about it now. Finals. Hurriedly, she 
changed out of Xander's clothes into her own duds. When she was dressed, 
she leaned over her sleeping friend.
	"I'll see you later today," she whispered, wondering idly if he 
could hear her.
	"Mmmm," he moaned. Then he twisted to the side suddenly. "No."
	"It's okay," she said, stroking his face. "It's okay."
	"Nnnngh."
	"It's only a dream, Xander."
	"Nnnnn."
	He seemed to relax. Looking at him, he seemed so open, so vulnerable. 
There were tracks on his face from tears in the night.
	What did they do to you? she wanted to ask. She wanted to run upstairs
and confront the two of them, put a truth spell on them, something. She wanted 
to know why her best friend was afraid to sleep in his own bed.
	But she couldn't. She could only be his friend.
	"You'll be okay," Willow whispered. "I'll be there. 
And nothing can hurt you."
	"You," he said. It came out almost as a whisper.
	"Right." On an impulse, she leaned down and kissed him quickly 
on the lips. "Get some rest."
	He smiled slightly in his sleep, causing her to break out in a 
wide grin. She walked to the outside door, watching him as she went.
	After she had gone, there was a sudden twisting of the knob as 
someone--something--tried to get in through the cellar door. But the 
lock held.
	And in his bed, Xander Harris dreamed of fire hair and pale skin.

All of this is copyright Joss Whedon, except the stuff that isn't.