"I don't want a new traffic reporter," Spike groused, arms crossed and lip jutted out like a toddler. All that was missing from his borderline tantrum was the perfunctory stomp of his foot.

"It's not a matter of what you do or don't want, Spike," Anya Jenkins, the station manager, pointed out for him. "It's a matter of keeping it all in the family. And that's what we're doing. Keeping it in the family."

Spike sighed and ran a hand through his bleached blonde hair. Drusilla Dalton had been his traffic anchor for three years. She knew exactly how he liked his traffic and she knew exactly how to speak to his audience so that they would turn up instead of tune out.

"Dru's family," he tried.

"We're making changes, Spike," Anya smiled tightly. "And Dru's not part of it. My hands are tied. I like her, too. She's a nice girl. And it's nothing personal. But we just can't work around this one. She's an employee of StrataTraffic and she's under a binding noncompete. I couldn't bring her over even if I wanted to do so."

So that was that. Dru was out. And some new, yet unnamed girl, was in. Spike nodded in defeat. It was one of the things that happened in radio over which he had no control.

"When does it start?" he wanted to know.

"A week from Monday."

Buffy Summers had been reporting traffic for 15 of her 32 years. She'd done it all -- driven around town in search of crashes and delays in a bright green Pacer that she called the Mother Ship, flew around in a puke and mildew scented Cessna, she'd even gotten her pilot's license and flew a small chopper while reporting live above multi-car pileups and metropolitan gridlock. She'd spent the last four years flying over San Francisco while she reported on the backed-up traffic on the Carquinez Bridge Toll Plaza.

She was contemplating a change when she received a call from Rupert Giles, her old boss from StrataTraffic in Los Angeles. He had been put in charge of an upstart traffic center basedin Sunnydale and was desperate for reliable anchors.

"I can offer you what you're making in San Francisco," he told her.

"I highly doubt that," was her smug reply.

"Buffy," he said, his voice taking on a serious tone. "I can offer you what you're making in San Francisco. I can't offer anyone else that. I couldn't justify it. But I can with you."

"Where, Giles?"

She was thinking about it. The huge grin threatened to crack his face in two and he found himself fighting to keep from giggling with glee.

"The beautiful small town of Sunnydale, California!"

A small town. Buffy had always loved the small towns. And her current salary while living in Sunydale? It would net to even more with Sunnydale's lower cost of living.

"This is a big decision," she sighed, hoping that Giles would buy her act.

Her insides were twisting excitedly. Her answer was yes. But there was still a game to play before she could reveal that to Giles.

"Watchers' Council Media would have to meet some of my terms, Giles, and I don't know that they'd be willing to give me everything that I want," she continued.

"What do you need, Buffy? Just name it and it's yours," he told her, no longer able to conceal how thrilled he was.

"Moving expenses," she began.

"Done."

"Temporary housing --"

"Done," he interrupted.

"For one month," she finished.

He was silent.

"Giles?"

"Two weeks is all I can guarantee," he countered.

"I have a great condo up here in San Francisco," she said nonchalantly. "And I'm quite happy with my current job..."

"Fine," he sighed in resignation. "One month."

"I want my hours and my job expectations in writing so that there is never a question about what I do or when I do it."

"Done."

"And finally, I want in on book bonuses."

Giles' head dropped into his hand. She was killing him. He knew exactly why she wanted in on the book bonuses: she'd been the neglected salvation to just one too many morning shows.

"I don't know, Buffy," he said honestly. "The best I can do is promise you everything else you ask until I can meet with Anya and the program directors."

That's not what she wanted to hear and they both knew it. But it was the only asnwer he could give her at the time.

She waited for him to say something more, but after too long a stretch of silence, she realized that it really was the best he could do.