Ellen.

The primeval barely-bipedal thing had actually called her 'Ellen'.

"I didn't even like that show. Or Seinfeld. Or Wings. And why did absolutely every main character on Dear John have to be such a zero-sum loser?"

If magic--or talking to herself--seemed to be getting her into trouble, of late, then a little activism never hurt anyone. After 9-11, hate crimes in general had seen an upswing, and that comment had made it crystal clear who some of the possible targets might be. So down to the local center she went.

"Excuse me? Could you take a look at this?"

It was one of the PR people, a guy down from Frisco who had a small ad agency. He was showing part of a new tolerance campaign he was working on.

"Uh--sure. By the way, my name's Willow Rosenberg."

"Adam Stephens, of Stephens and Son. Though not so you could tell by Dad's presence."

Willow looked the draft over, and nodded at the imagery approvingly.

"So--four guys are swilling back some beer, and we don't know whether they're a couple of friends or a couple of couples."

Stephens pointed at his drawing.

"I'm thinking of the caption--'Threatening, Aren't They?'. Kind of turns any witch hunts on their heads."

Willow sighed.

"No offense taken--but I really prefer people not use the WH words, ya know?"

Stephens laughed.

"Oh, you don't have to tell me. My grandmother was there, in Salem. Or was it her sister Clara? Well, someone from the family saw it all. Sorry about that. Freudian slip."

A quick reading told Willow all she needed to know.

"You're a Natural. Oh, that is so cool. No one to call upon, no real limits to your spells. No real limits, period."

Stephens sat down. His smile had faded.

"There's always limits, Willow. I can't counteract someone else's spell, for example. My older sister is way more talented than either me or our cousin Erin. We're only half-Naturals, so the effects of time on us are unpredictable. I've been contacted by a 29th Century temporal authority, on that basis alone. They don't even want my powers."

Willow was starting to sense a trend, and it was one she outright hated.

"But even within those limits, you can do almost anything. Isn't that cool?"

Adam shrugged.

"If you like that sort of thing. It can be a reality-breaker, though. My cousin Erin married an Immortal friend of the family. Aunt Peggy got angry, and changed him into a coatrack. My Mom had to intervene. All kinds of relatives were trying to end my parents' marriage as late as my fifth birthday. Some retroactively. My father lost his original physical form, which affected my conception. My sister got tired of waiting to grow up, and so magicked herself to adulthood, back in 76'. That lasted two years. Our maid got tired of fading out, and moved to Atlanta, where she no longer practices. If reality is at your whim, then is it really real?"

Willow thought she had a counter.

"Yeah, but--everybody does the whole Cher 'Gypsies, Tramps, And Thieves' thing when it comes to magic. They all say how bad it is, or too much of it is, but everybody turns right straight to it, when the needs come around. My oldest friend is also a lousy hypocrite who used a love whammy on all the women here. But hear him lecture me now!"

Adam nodded in partial agreement.

"I hear you. Even my Dad--the strongest anti-magic crusader you will ever meet, has hit the well a lot over the years. But, to be fair, its usually to counteract someone else's prank or whatever."

"Yet--Mister Stephens--he turns to magic, just like I said."

Now, Stephens was frowning.

"Never seriously, that I know of. Except for that one day. He almost convinced my Mom to do it, too."

Willow incorrectly felt on the verge of triumph.

"See? Talk about reality? Its something we all end up wanting to alter, eventually. What about that day made him want to change reality?"

Stephens got up to leave. His last words would haunt Willow for a good long while, in any event.

"It was the day I came out."