Returning to the coven house the next morning, Rupert found the witches buzzing over breakfast. Willow greeted him with a huge smile.

"Ritual go well? How do you feel?" he asked.

"Awesome. I feel like - like I'm in a hot tub full of unicorns!" Willow paused, her expression blank. Then, perking back up, "And hugs. There are also hugs in the hot tub." She frowned. "Wait, that sounded wrong. Wool sweaters! And pie. A hot tub full of pie, that's me."

"Yes, you certainly are," he said, shooting at look at the coven's leader. The elder witch shrugged.

"She should be better by nightfall. Second ritual is tonight."

"What will she be doing until then?"

"Resting. Why don't you take her to the garden, Rupert?"

"Yeah!" Willow chimed in. "Then you can tell me all about the girl you met last night!"

"And then we can braid each other's hair and paint our toenails," Rupert muttered. He helped her up and out the door. She was unsteady on her feet, so he held her arm until they made it to the garden swing.

"Tell me about her," Willow said again. "I can feel her presence, no use getting all Giles about it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know. You and Buffy, you bottle up your feelings. You're bottlers."

"I do not bottle!"

"So what's the problem? Let's talk about girls. It'll be fun." When he didn't say anything, her face fell a little. "If you really want to know," she said slowly, "it...hurt. The ritual. It felt like...being torn apart and put back together. Talk to me, I don't want to think about the next one."

He softened at that. "She...she's very beautiful."

Willow brightened. "What does she look like?"

"Black hair, fair skin, eyes like blue sapphires...she's Irish. Her name is Aisling. She's a keener."

"A what?"

"She sings songs of lament for the dead at wakes."

"Hmm..." Willow closed her eyes. "What else?"

"Actually, she wanted to know all about me. And I told her. Everything."

"About Buffy and the demons and everything?"

"Yes. Most women are put off by that kind of talk. She was...not."

"Did you get her number?"

"It wasn't that kind of night, Willow."

She opened one eye. "Maybe this is why you don't ever date, Giles. All work and no smoochies. Something to think about."

"She's on an errand. Leaving town as soon as she finds someone called Cormac O'Grady. Or doesn't find him here, I suppose. She's probably gone already."

"No, she'll be here for two more nights. I think...she wants to see you again."

"You know you aren't supposed to be -"

"I'm not doing anything, it's all just flowing into me." She opened the other eye. "It felt good, didn't it? Finally opening up. Yes...I'm sure it's a good thing."

"You're a meddlesome girl, aren't you?"

"Stop bottling."

"I do not - " he stopped and sighed, defeated. What good would lying do against someone who couldn't help reading his feelings? Willow was right, there was part of himself he always guarded, never letting anyone near...except for Jenny. It was dangerous for anyone to get close to him, and Jenny paid the price for it.

As that thought crossed his mind, Willow's face crumpled. "Her suffering is over," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's your own heart you're protecting."

"Are you sure you aren't talking about yourself?" he asked gently.

"I am...that's how I know I'm right about you."

Willow's condition deteriorated as the day wore on. When at last the witches shooed him out the door, he left with a palpable sense of relief.

Aisling was in the pub, just as Willow had said. Tonight she was wearing an impractically lightweight dress that swished around her ankles when she walked. Was she wearing jewelry? She had gone to some trouble, it seemed.

"You're upset," she said.

"Apparently I have no secrets today. Good evening to you, too."

"Begging your pardon," she murmured, again looking deep into his eyes. Although an act of intimacy, she seemed far away. He searched her eyes in return, but they were opaque and unfathomable as the ocean.

"I thought perhaps - " he began. "I felt like - well, does anyone ever sing for you?" He unslung his guitar from his back.

She took a long time to answer, and when she did, the word seemed to catch in her throat. "Never."

There were almost no patrons in the pub, and the few diehards looked to be finishing quickly. Expecting another storm, perhaps?

He chose a spot and sat down, and she settled down next to him. He sang slow songs, fast song, sweet songs, and hard songs. The playlist didn't matter, he simply followed his whim. Aisling followed too, delighting in each new song as if she had never heard music before. When finally he felt that it was time to stop, he had the strangest feeling that she was seeing him for the first time.

Rain pounded on the rooftop. So it was to be a stormy night after all. All work and no smoochies. He leaned in for a kiss, which she accepted, then returned.

But that was strange. Hadn't she been wearing a necklace? Bracelets? Must have been a trick of the light - he could see her jewelry, or was it –

Before he could fully process what he was seeing, she bolted across the room and out the door.

Rupert chased after her, but it was too late. She had vanished into the night.