* * * * *

Is it better to have words left unsaid than to
have words misunderstood?

* * * * *

She told him everything. They sat in his room, on his bed, beside one another. His hands on his knees, her arms hugging herself. He looked straight ahead; she looked down at her thighs.

The night before the full moon. Faith expected him to change any minute, maybe he'd rip out her throat; she wouldn't fight him. She remembered their first full moon night together as a couple. She came into his room, and he looked at her all gentle and worried. He didn't want her to sleep in his bed because he was afraid he'd turn. Yes, he learned how to control the wolf inside him, but she was magnetic to it, and he believed she could make it come out of him. With Willow the wolf reacted to jealously, but with Faith it was passion. So instead of snuggling they exchanged stuffed animals for three nights. Oz slept with her purple platypus, and Faith hugged his yellow-faced purple orangutan. And they were content, sharing the other.

Then one month before Buffy's death they didn't need to share the other's stuffed animal. Faith didn't care and crept beneath his covers. In his bed, on his pillow, holding his hand she slept, and the moon was bright and full, like her velvet brown eyes. Oz didn't change and the passion was still there - wolf and slayer. No whispered words, just fingers loving fingers.

Faith liked it all. What it felt like to just sleep next to someone. Next to a someone who didn't judge, who didn't expect anything from her, and she hurt him.

"I don't understand," said Oz, still looking at the nothing in front of him. "You quit the pizza shop and drink and sleep with all those strangers. I was so worried about you, always asking about you at the Magic Box and the Hyperion, and nothing."

"Oz," she said.

"I know . . . it's hard. With Buffy and . . . but I'm right here." He looked at her. "I'm right here for you. Talk to me about what you're feeling. I know I'm the not the best person when it comes to grieving or panicking or showing any sign of heightened emotion, but I feel it, too. I don't show it like everyone else, but I feel it. Buffy was my friend, too, but this isn't about Buffy anymore. What you did is, it's just not good. Just because she's gone doesn't give you an excuse to be careless. You can hurt me, but you can't hurt yourself."

"Oz, I didn't want to hurt you. Everything was sinking again."

"The tar pit thing," Oz nodded, "but why does it have to be Angel who pulls you out? When am I going to get to help you, Faith? Why'd you sleep with all those people?"

Faith was silent as she thought about his last question. Why did she sleep with all those people? She'd been like that since what seemed like forever to her. Slaying and sex were marriage partners.

"Is it me?" he asked.

Her lips parted to speak, instead her eyebrows wrinkled sadly at him.

"Yes," Faith said. "I mean, it's you and me. Sex doesn't really mean anything to me, Oz. It's just skin. I've never had sex with anyone I really loved. Angel . . . I loved him, but he doesn't count because he's not really alive. I don't know how to make you understand. I don't even know if I understand, but you and me - we're alive. You're real to me. Real like none of the others ever were, more real than Angel ever could have been.

"I thought I was in love with him, but now I think, now I know it was just sex. It was just me trying to have what Buffy, what she had in her life because I thought I'd be happy, but I wasn't really that happy. I only thought I was.

"I'm happy now, though. Happy with you, Oz."

Oz's short spiky red hair seemed like the only light in the room, and Faith stared at the gelled strands.

"I'm sorry. I know I already told you that, but I'm a sexual person, Oz, but sex to me is destruction. And skin." She looked at him. "I don't know if I can ever have sex with you, Oz, because of how real you are to me and how happy you make me feel. You make me feel like a regular girl, and when I'm with you I forget about all the shitty things I've done in the past. With you it's like I don't have a past, only the past I've spent with you, and I like that."

"Wait," Oz said, "so you don't want to have sex with me because you love me?"

Faith nodded, biting her lower lip, the gloss faded. "I'm fucked up, Oz. It doesn't mean I, we never-"

Oz shook his head, "Shhh, don't. You don't have to apologize for that. That's not important. Just promise me you won't hurt yourself like this again."

His tender eyes looked into hers, and she liked the way he stared at her.

"I promise," she said. "Can I hug you?"

"You can always hug me, Faith."

Her arms wrapped tightly around his small-framed body, and Oz smiled as he thought about her slayer strength crushing his body for love. As Faith held him she thought about love and wondered what it really was all about. Once Angel had told her that he chose the mansion to live in because jasmine grew in the garden and the jasmine reminded him of Darla. Jasmine also grew in the Hyperion garden - was that love? Could love be a memory? Could love just be laughing with a person? Holding a person's hand?

She didn't let him go as she said, "Anyways, I've got a new job at Caritas. Bartending, whatever. No big, the pizza gig was getting dull."

"That's great," said Oz.

She let him go and he held on to her arm.

"Since we've been together I've gotten to see the real you, Faith, and I hope you don't hide her away from me because she's really fun, sweet and smart."

"Hey," Faith smiled; Oz wanted to catch her dimples and keep them in a glass jar. "I'm not that soft, am I?"

She punched at his shoulder playfully, but he didn't smile; he only gazed at her warmly.

"No," he shook his head. "Not completely."

Faith began to tug at the knot in her pink, purple, and yellow friendship bracelet.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, Oz."

He leaned forward, and she almost stopped breathing, listing to her heart beat as if it had been magnified. Her lips parted; she thought he was going to kiss her. Oz's hands brushed through her long brunette waves, and he kissed her forehead.

Oz said, "You and I have more in common than you think.

*Lyrics taken from the song "Pale Sun" written by Michael Timmins.