DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters. None of the characters belong to me. They belong to a very clever person called Joss Whedon, and I am not him.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: OK, this is my first fic, and it's not brilliant, but see what you think yourselves...

It was at the end of lunchtime at Sunnydale High. Xander was getting ‘quality closet time’ with Cordelia, Buffy, who had a free next, was training with Giles in the library, and Willow was getting her books from her locker for the next lesson. Double biology she thought. I can think of a few things that are better than double biology, and that sounds really strange me saying that. But it’s true. Just then, Willow felt someone’s arms round her waist and his lips on her neck.

“And there’s one of them!” she said happily.

“Huh?” asked Oz, confused because he had only heard one part of the conversation Willow was having with herself in her head. “What d’you mean Will?”

“Oh, nothing. What brings you here, Oz? I don’t usually see you now. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice and all, but I wasn’t expecting it.”

“I bring good news . . . not for me, though, just for you.”

“What’s up?”

“Well, you know the Dingoes are supposed to be playing tonight at the Bronze? Well Deven’s not feeling too good, and we can’t play without a lead singer, so we’ve had to cancel,” explained Oz. He could see the grin widening on Willow’s face as he gave the details of Deven’s illness.

“That’s great!” Willow exclaimed. “Not for the band, but you’ve got a night off . . .” She corrected herself with that voice she used when mischievous thoughts went through her head.

“So you see, I was wondering if you’d like to go to the Bronze tonight . . . You’ve got me all to yourself . . .” Oz put his ‘pleading look’ on his face to try and persuade Willow to come. Like she needed persuading!

“Are you asking me out on a date, Oz Ozbourne?” asked Willow, curiously.

“Hey, it sounds like it. You up for it?”

“Yeah. I’m up for it.”

“I’ll pick you up at 7. See you later.”

“Yeah.” Just then the bell rang. “Got double bio now. See you at 7.”

“7. Later.” Oz gave Willow a quick kiss on the lips, before departing for his free. Willow watched him walk away, then turned in the opposite direction and headed towards the biology lab.

Buffy and Willow were walking home. They were discussing what Buffy was gonna wear to the Bronze that night, but somehow the conversation got sidetracked to Oz.

“But isn’t it great that Oz’s got the night off? I mean, I’m feeling sorry for Devon and all, but I’ve got a night of Oz all to myself, without having to share him with the Dingoes or the moon!”

“I’m happy for you, Will, really. You like him, don’t you?”

“Do you really have to ask? He’s so great! It’s so great! We’re all great! It’s great.”

“Great.” Buffy laughed, then said, “So Will, what’re you gonna wear, then?”

“I dunno, I thought maybe my red halterneck top and perhaps those black trousers. What about you?”

“I’ll find something. Hey, this is my stop,” said Buffy as she reached her house. “Catch ya later, Will.”

“Yeah, see ya at the Bronze.” Then Willow walked down the road and went into a side alley. She pulled a pair of roller blades from her bag, put them on her feet, and muttered, “Here goes. A new, crazier Willow, here we come.” Then she disappeared, wobbling down the alley, only to overbalance and fall heavily on her arm as she rounded the corner. “Ow!” she exclaimed to herself, then took the blades off, clutched her right arm and winced. Then she walked the rest of the way home. If being crazy is gonna hurt that much, then I don’t wanna be crazy. I’ll just have to be me.

It was half 6 that night. Willow was wearing a strappy top and a pair of smart trousers. She planned to wear a jacket to hide the huge bruise that was developing from her fall earlier today. She was sitting on her bed combing her hair when she saw Oz standing outside her window. She got up to open the patio doors connecting her bedroom to the outside world.

“You’re early,” she said to him.

“I know. I couldn’t stay away. I missed you so much.” Willow kissed him and he kissed her back. His lips moved down her face, down her neck, along her right shoulder and down her arm. When he reached her bruise, she flinched and pulled away from him.

“What’s wrong, Will?” he asked. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine, nothing to worry about,” replied Willow. She went to kiss him again, but he pulled away from her.

“No, Will, something’s wrong. Let me see your arm.” Willow only hid it from him, so he said, more forcefully this time, “C’mon, Willow. Something’s wrong, I know it is. Show me your arm.”

This time Willow did as she was told. Oz saw the bruise on her upper arm. “How did you do this?” he asked her, genuinely concerned for her.

“I um, I um, it doesn’t matter. It happened, it’s in the past, it cannot be changed.”

“Did someone hit you?” asked Oz. “Is that it?”

“No,” replied Willow. “No one hit me, no one hurt me, I wasn’t mugged and I didn’t get attacked. Are you happy now?”

“No, I’m not. I thought we had an honest relationship, but you’re keeping something from me. Either tell me what it is, Will, or I’ll walk out of this room . . .” He turned his back to walk out.

“No, don’t go,” pleaded Willow, putting her hand on Oz’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you. It’s not very important.” She reached under the bed and pulled out her roller blades.

“Roller blades?” All this over roller blades? I didn’t know you blade, Will.”

“I don’t, at least not very well. I tried to skate from Buffy’s to here, but I didn’t even make it round the first corner. I landed on my arm, and that’s how I got this bruise.”

“But why? I didn’t have you down as the sort of person to suddenly take up roller blading.”

“That’s just it, Oz. No one has me down as the sort of person to suddenly do anything, except her homework. I didn’t want that stereotype anymore; I wanted to be different. I didn’t want to be boring. I wanted to do something no one would ever think I would do. I wanted to be crazy.”

“Willow,” said Oz, moving close to hug her, “You don’t have to be crazy. I love you. You’re My Willow and I love you just the way you are. I don’t want you to change. If you changed, you wouldn’t be My Willow, and then where would I be? Stuck in High School, Willow-less.”

“You say the sweetest things, Oz,” said Willow, a tear forming in her eye. She hugged him tightly. Then she put her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. “Promise you’ll never let me go?” she asked hopefully.

“I promise,” he said. “But we’ve got to get to the Bronze.”

“We don’t have to. Not just yet anyway.” Willow kissed him and then said, “We could go in the back of the van and look at the stars.”

“That would be nice. C’mon, let’s go . . . My Willow.”

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