Willow's head rested just to the right of the mouse, pillowed by her arms.

Cordelia was using one of Giles' thickest books as her cushion, heedless of the marking the engraved cover would leave on her skin.

Xander propped his feet on the table and tilted his chair back. He dozed lightly, coming awake at the slightest noise. The computer hummed softly in front of him, lulling him back under after every disturbance.

Oz leaned against the wrought iron stair railing that led to the stacks. He, like Xander, couldn't quite sleep, yet wasn't fully awake.

Giles was in his off ice, radio playing softly. He smiled at his young charges. Buffy was home, taking a well-deserved rest while her friends had worked feverishly to help research yet another supernatural phenomenon.

And now, while the sky was black with the new moon, they all waited for morning and the fragile illusion of safety. He sighed, strangely content. He hated knowing these amazing children. Hated fearing for them every moment. Yet he could not imagine his life - his calling - without them.

He was a very lucky watcher.

Cordelia sighed softly in her sleep. Xander opened his eyes. Her thick, rich brown hair cascaded down her back. Lowering himself quietly, he reached out to touch the silken mass.

*This beautiful girl is mine* His thought made his smile. Cordelia would definitely object to that phrasing. He could hear her now. "I don't belong to anyone Alexander Harris. Least of all you!"

His brown eyes drank in the soft lines of her. Despite their antagonistic relationship, he thought of her only in the most complimentary of terms. Of course, trying to suppress the memory of all the insults didn't make it easy.

But she made him strangely happy. And that seemed only fitting on the hellmouth.

Xander's movement jolted Oz from his semi-conscious state. He watched the younger boy stare transfixed at Cordelia for the longest time, stroking her hair tenderly.

The touching scene turned his thoughts to Willow. He looked at her just as she turned her head his way.

This stunning girl amazed him. How anyone - no, everyone - could have overlooked her for so long confused him. But, he counted his blessings. Because that had left her free for him.

Her smooth, long fingers were splayed on the table next to her, reminding him of the seductive pull of the feel of them running through his short hair. Her expression was relaxed, a small smile on her lips.

Her lips. Soft, sweet, delightfully kissable. Sometimes, he wished he had the courage to just hold her to him and kiss her until both their knees were too weak to support them.

A small movement broke him out of his reverie. Xander had shifted his position slightly and, in doing so, had cast quick, loving glance at his friend.

Oz sighed. Nothing was easy. But in the meantime, she was still smiling at him.

Buffy's curtains wavered in the soft breeze from her slightly open window. The whispered currents of air had soothed her to sleep and tonight the prophecies and visions were quiet.

Tonight, in her dreams, she was like any other seventeen-year-old girl. Shopping, dancing, falling in love. Normal.

But in her window, lighted like a messenger of heaven by the soft glow of the street lamp, the reality was far from her dreams.

He wasn't normal. He couldn't give her any of the things she dreamed of. He was one of the reasons her dreams could never come true.

Angel by name, demon by trade.

She was the angel. Golden blonde hair fanning out like a halo. The barely perceptible rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She looked so frail, so fragile.

She smiled in her dream as he smiled at his thought.

He ached to go to her, yearned to hold her again. But regardless of the present, their past kept him locked out of her reach.

So he watched her, like his namesake, while she lay sleeping.