They're the longest pauses…a whole lifetime can pass between them.

They're the pauses that come between the last thing you hear and the next thing you say.

I don't pretend I'm the best man around. If anything, this year has proved I need to do a lot of work before I could even be considered for that particular slot. I didn't want to admit that, even in the face of the overwhelming evidence, but I couldn't help it.

I came across one of those pauses.

And the past year passed before my eyes, much like the cliché of when you think you're going to die. I don't know why it happened, other than maybe I'm growing up. Maybe I'm maturing. Maybe I'm just trying not to be the same old selfish bastard I've been since I uttered the three words I regret more than any others in my life.

"Kick his ass."

That too had been preceded by a pause. A pause where all I saw was Miss Calendar's dead body, so pale and young in her coffin. I saw Willow in Angelus' hands, his teeth poised above her throat. I saw Buffy wracked with guilt and fear for us, for herself, for the world, because she was so afraid she wouldn't be able to kill him when she needed to.

I saw Kendra, lying in a pool of her own blood. I heard Willow cry out as the bookcase fell. I remembered the deep pit my stomach became as I stared down at Willow in her coma. I remember being afraid, truly afraid for the first time in my life as I imagined my life without my best friend, the woman I truly loved when I had the strength to look into my heart of hearts.

All that came to me in the small pause before I said those words.

It had never really happened to me before, but it's happened an awful lot since. Maybe it's guilt. Maybe that's what brings the pauses on.

Because I felt it the moment before I kissed Willow. Even though I knew it was wrong, even though it felt so right. I saw our friendship redefined in that moment. I saw the love shining out of Willow's eyes when she looked at me; I saw the hurt when I mentioned every other girl. I saw the pain when I was so horrible to her while I was under the influence of the hyena.

I saw her broken heart when she saw me kissing Cordelia.

I saw her triumphant spirit when someone finally saw her for herself. And I saw the underlying sadness that, yet again, it wasn't me.

I saw her enjoying the tentative friendship Oz and I formed, since my friendship with her seemed to be suffering in the light of our new relationships.

Then I saw her standing before me, my friend and so much more.

And her hesitant, husky voice assaulted my senses, "This…shouldn't be a…problem."

"No. No problem."

And I kissed her.

Which leads me to here, to now. Where all of this is swimming in my head. Oz and I are standing side by side, trying to help stop the end of the world by throwing together the world's yuckiest recipe.

We're staring down at a piece of paper, lovingly drawn by the woman at the center of both our lives. We've silently agreed to set everything aside and I guess you could say that we're friends, but the lines are clear.

"Well, how can you tell which is which? They both kind of look stick-figure-y to me."

"Well, this one's me, because you see the little guitar?"

"Oh. Gotcha."

"Yeah. Nobody like my Will."

I feel my heart break as she opens her eyes and asks for Oz.

I see the look of resolve on her face when she tells me she's going to perform the spell again.

I see myself lying to Buffy, hoping that I'm doing the right thing.

I see us struggling to keep evil at bay as Giles searches for his Slayer like a man possessed.

I see myself the night Buffy returned home, throwing a ball at my ceiling until I can't control the anger anymore and have to stop so that I don't put a hole through it.

I see Buffy's welcome home party where all the pain, anger and guilt well up until we're all at each other's throats.

I see us agreeing to be friends again, even though we haven't managed to resolve a thing.

I see Willow and myself growing apart, growing up in our separate relationships.

I see me kissing her, her kissing me. I see the guilt growing, the emotions careening out of control, and both of us completely unsure of how to stop it…or even if we want it to stop.

I see the looks on Oz and Cordelia's faces when the find us. When they find us betraying them.

I see myself wondering what would be best for Willow - me or Oz. I see myself standing outside her door, my arm poised to knock, my heart ready to tell her how I feel.

I see myself walking away, knowing that she needs him right now. Maybe she loves him. Maybe she doesn't. But she doesn't need me mucking it up right now. She needs to decide for herself.

I see the guilt in her eyes until Oz takes her back. Then I see the relief. But all I can feel is pain. I like Oz. I like the way he treats her and he loves her.

But she's *my* Willow.

"Yeah. Nobody like my Will."

Nobody ever said I was strong, or brave, or smart. Mostly I'm just selfish, and unthinking and stupid. But in that pause, in that instant of time I realize I can be all the things I never thought I was or could be. I can put this anger and guilt and pain aside and be Willow's best friend one more time. Maybe one last time.

"No sir. There is not."

She'll always be my Willow, regardless of the Oz's of the world. And I know, when it comes down to it, her voice will always be the last thing I hear.