Willow woke up, stretching and yawning before making her way to the shower. She didn t glance in the mirror, too muddled by sleep to be quite certain if she was Willow or Angel. The shower helped wake her up, clear her mind of the fuzzy padding that had slowed her thoughts. By the time she was finished, she was quite certain that she was Willow, that there was something wrong with Faith s situation, Tara and the rest of the scoobies didn't quite trust her, and Amy was supposed to help her work on magic.

She felt better as she made her way to the kitchen, snickering as she caught sight of Amy. Her friend was perched on the counter, a small pile of orange peels on a napkin beside her as she ate slices of orange, licking the sticky juice from her fingers. Seems that chocolate wasn't the only thing that Amy had missed. It made her smile, and then giggle.

"Morning Amy. You didn't like the chairs?" She had a moment of worry, had Amy forgotten chairs the way that she d forgotten shower knobs?

Amy wrinkled her nose at Willow, pausing to swallow the mouthful of orange before answering." I didn't want my face in the sunlight. It feels too bright."

"Oh. So did you want to start here, or should we go check out the mansion?" Willow smiled even as she started the small coffee maker, moving slowly around the kitchen assembling her own breakfast.

"Hmm . Mansion. Less likely to have cranky Buffy drop in. Although Xander looks better than he did in high school. But not until after breakfast." Amy peeled another strip from her orange. "Willow, does your mom know you drink coffee?"

"I don't think my mom realizes that I graduated from high school yet, or the fact that the school got blown up. Me drinking coffee is so far down the list of things that she doesn't know..." Willow sighed, wishing that her mom could be more like Joyce had been.

"Ouch. Bad Mrs. Rosenberg My mom took an interest in my life. Rather too much, actually, but at least she knew my age." Amy frowned, possibly remembering how her mother had switched bodies with her to try to become a cheerleader.

So, they finished breakfast and made their way out of the house, taking Willow's car, a second hand Volkswagon Bug, to the Crawford Street mansion. It looked big, and looming, and just exactly like the sort of house that should have horror stories written about it. Willow parked the car in the garage, next to a large shape covered over with canvas and dust.

Moving through the door in the garage, they entered the mansion, shadows filling the corners, obscuring the walls and ceilings. Dust motes danced in the few stray sunbeams, and cobwebs softened the corners. Their footsteps echoed.

umm it needs a bit of help. Amy s dry comment prompted the pair of them to start giggling.

They made their way to what looked like an indoor garden, sunlight pouring down through a dingy skylight. Brown grass and thorn covered briars spilled over the sides of planter boxes, and there was a stunted looking tree with a few brave leaves trying to grow. It was not the most cheerful place, but it would do for a start.

Amy started with the things that she said were the very most basic of all. Identifying what energy was Willow and what wasn't. Moving on to determining what not-Willow energy was Amy, and what was just there, learning to test the feel of the ambient energy to know if there had been magic there before, or powerful emotions. Learning to sense magic being used right now.

These were supposed to be the very basic elements of magical study, yet nobody had ever gone over them with Willow. Not even when Tara had wanted to try something simple and theyd tried to combine their power to pluck the petals from a rose. Willow sighed, rubbing at her temple. Nothing had taken very much power, but the concentration had felt intense, giving her a bit of a headache.

"Maybe this is why so many spells don't go right. I got tossed right into calculus without anyone showing me addition and subtraction." Willow sighed, rubbing at itchy eyes. Amy had been telling her to look with her inner eyes, not with the hazel ones that could read Latin, but she'd kept trying, not having the hang of the energy-sensing thing quite yet. She understood the theory of what Amy was saying, but how did you go about convincing yourself that you don't need your eyes to see?

"Yeah, that could do it. But we can fix it. We can manage the basic things, and then find a more advanced witch to study under." Amy grinned, looking very pleased. "This is good for me too, because it wasn't the same being a rat. I couldn't do magic like I could before, or else I would have changed myself back."

"Well, then a bit of a refresher for you, and the basics for me. At least I know that I can do magic, so I should definitely be able to figure this part out." Willow smiled just a bit, even as she wondered where the nearest headache medicine could possibly be.

"Cool. Didn't you say there was a somewhere to be today?" Amy grinned, looking far less headachey than Willow felt.

"Yeah, I have a couple classes this afternoon. Umm..." Willow paused, considering Amy. "Maybe you could sort of hang out at the college, sort of watching people? It s daytime, so there shouldn't be anything demony, and if you stay in the student lounge, you should be safe from human jerks oh, if you meet a guy named Parker Abrams, tell him to get lost. He just wants to have sex with as many females as remotely possible, and after he gets it, he drops them like a hot rock."

"Really? How do you know?" Amy looked curious.

"Buffy, our freshman year. Fell for his wholly sympathetic nice guy act hook, line and sinker. It was ugly. So learn from Buffy's mistake." Willow felt almost better, remembering the complete first aid kit in the back of her car, including headache medicine.

Amy giggled. "Okay, any other Buffy-Mistakes to learn from?"

"Always let Giles finish telling you how to banish the demon before smashing the diagram?" Willow smirked, remembering that mess.

Amy laughed as they walked back to the garage.

End part 7.

Willow made her way out of her math class, running over the last example in her mind. She almost walked into Tara before she saw her girlfriend, or possibly ex-girlfriend glaring at her, her eyes filled with hurt. "Tara?"

"Willow. You were gone last night." Tara fell into step beside Willow as she made her way towards the room for her class in sociology.

"Considering the mood you were in, I didn't want to stick around. Especially with Buffy so cranky." Willow sighed, wondering why Tara looked so upset. "It's not like I did anything wrong, I don't have to stay at Buffy's house."

"You don t have to leave with strange girls either, but you did." Tara's words were soft, filled with pain and jealousy.

"Excuse me?" Willow blinked, wondering exactly what was going through Tara s mind. "Are you jealous of Amy? She's not... we are not even close to her type!"

"But she's pretty." Tara looked away, missing the hurt expression on Willow s face.

"Well, yeah, but just because someone looks good that doesn't mean I'm having an affair with them. She's just... Amy needs a bit of help to adjust to everything, that's all." She didn't mention the magic, didn't dare breathe a word of it. Not here, not in front of whoever might be walking down the halls. Tara didn't want her using so much magic anyhow.

"How long is she going to need this help ? When is she leaving?" Tara looked at Willow, her eyes full of doubt and worry.

The look felt almost worse than being hurled to the ground by some overly feisty fledgeling on patrol. "You don't trust me. How can you not trust me? How could you think that I would do that to you? I can't Tara, I can't date someone that feels like they have to watch my every move, monitor who I talk to. I can't be with someone that can't trust me. I'm sorry."

She didn't remember the rest of the trip to the room for her Sociology class. Didn't remember the lecture at all, although she had pages of notes about the changing racial balance, statistics, and the ethnic make up of America, and why those statistics were important. In fact the next thing she was really clear on, Amy was beside her, waiting for Willow to unlock the door of her car so they could leave the campus.

"So something ruined your mood? Maybe we could go get Pine-sol and brooms and clean out the mansion? Or at least get started on it." Amy had worried eyes, and the look on her face suggested that they might have been standing by the car for a while.

"Hmm cleaning. Well, it has to be safer than casting spells while feeling like someone just ripped your heart out and replaced it with a leaky lemon." Willow sighed, unlocking the car and starting it up. Leaning over, she unlocked the passenger door so Amy could get in the car. "Tara thought... she well, she made it pretty clear that she doesn't trust me. And I can't stay with someone who doesn't trust me."

"Willow, you're great and all, but does Tara know that you aren't my type?" Amy frowned, looking less than thrilled. But that could have been from the heat that had built up in the car over the past few hours.

"Of course she..." Willow stopped herself, taking a slow breath to calm down. "What I mean is, I told her that. So she should know if she was actually listening to me."

They began the long task of trying to clean up the mansion. Starting with removing the cobwebs from the corners and sweeping the dust away, the pair of them realized that there was just so much mansion that It would take a very long time to make it all right again. A swift exchange of glances confirmed the idea of starting with just the kitchen, main hall, and the garden first, and slowly moving on from there. Maybe they could even bring magic into the cleaning later

But eventually, the cleaning lost it's appeal, and they went back to her house to change their clothing and shower away the grime. They felt like they'd accomplished quite a bit.

"Maybe we should make sure there s no big scary evil?" Willow wasn't certain how Amy would respond.

Amy smiled, eyes twinkling. "Maybe we could go visit that magic shop you said Giles has? If he's there, or even Anya, we could find out about any big scary. And it's been a long time since I was in a magic shop"

They walked to the store, chatting about some movies that had come out in the past three years, discussing Hollywood stars and music trends, all the sort of things that Amy had missed and wouldn't freak out random people on the street. The offered small waves towards Anya when they entered the shop, and she just sort of gave a sharp nod.

"Not very friendly, is she?" Amy looked at Anya, her voice soft.

"We aren't likely to spend lots of money in here. Money's a very big thing to Anya. But well, she wouldn't be that calm if there was a huge impending crisis." Willow whispered to Amy, making her way towards the back area where they kept the research books.

"I'm just trying to say, that I bloody well don't care if they look at us funny! I don't want to be your dirty little secret." Spike s voice sounded angry, a bit muffled. He had to be in the shipping area, arguing with someone.

"What did you think you were?" Buffy's voice was cold and harsh. "You aren't my boyfriend, you aren't my friend Spike. You're just someone to chase away the emptiness inside."

"So that's it? I'm just a quick shag in the alley?" Spike's voice sounded incredulous.

Amy and Willow exchanged horrified glances. Willow felt like she'd just had the ground swept out from under her. Buffy and Spike? She'd known that Buffy had been acting different, and that she'd talked to Spike, but that wasn't talking. And since when was Buffy so harsh about anyone's feelings?

"Basically. You aren't a man, Spike. You may look like it, but you aren't. You're just... a heartless demon that's more useful here than dust." Buffy's words were sharp, as if intended to hurt.

Amy looked at Willow, her eyes wide and appalled. "Can we not be here?"

Willow just nodded, and they left the Magic Box. She felt like everything was changing. First, Tara thinks she's having an affair with Amy, and Amy's lusting after Spike. Then, they learn that Spike and Buffy were eeeuughh. And Buffy was just using Spike. It felt like too much, too horrible.

"I don't think I like the new Sunnydale that much." Amy's voice was soft, a bit sad.

Willow looked over, wondering how much of that sadness was because Amy wanted Spike. "I'm not too sure I like it either."

end part 8.

In Los Angeles, Angel tossed his blankets aside, lurching from his bed with a vile taste in his mouth. That had been the most dreadful dream... He shuddered, feeling almost unclean. Definitely a shower

He d been having dreams about Willow for a couple years now. Not just Willow appearing in the nightmares about his evil deeds, or the lustful dreams that a man might have about a sweet attractive woman, but dreams where he WAS Willow. He had no idea where they came from, or why he had them. But he would dream bits of her life, sometimes memories, sometimes what had to be current events.

He'd dreamed about her finding Oz and that she-wolf together in the crypt-cage, and had wanted to rip the smug she wolf to bloody shreds, and tear out Oz s throat. Willow was sweet, patient, and looked at Oz and saw a young man, not a monster. And he was willing to throw that away for some cheap trampy she wolf? The bastard deserved to have his kidneys carved out.

That had hurt. He'd felt oddly jealous when she'd gotten involved with Tara, although some of those dreams well, he'd never quite pictured Willow doing things like that before. Nor could he forget the images now that he'd dreamed them.

Nothing had prepared him for this one though. Willow had argued with Tara, broken up with Tara over trust issues. He wondered if that had to do with the question of how much magic was too much as well as Amy? If that had been it though, he might have been alright. But to dream about his childe sleeping with Buffy... Being used as her personal whipping boy and sexual toy it... turned his stomach.

Even if he wasn't all caught up in Dru anymore, Spike was supposed to have better taste than that! Hadn't he loathed the idea of being compared to Angelus? Didn't he despise Slayers in general and Buffy in particular? And to hear Buffy's voice like that, so cold, so empty

He made his way down to the lobby, grunting in acknowledgement of Cordelia s perky greeting. "Wesley, what do you know about the Council's policy on misbehaving Slayers?"

"Rather little, I'm afraid. There isn't a lot of precedent for it, considering the way the Council usually manages everything about the Slayers' lives. Why do you ask?" Wesley frowned, looking a bit unsettled.

"What has you so grumpy, Angel? And can you stop being all Grrr? We could have had a customer in here!" Cordelia looked at him, sounding rather annoyed.

"Nobody else was here. I would have heard them." He rubbed his hand over his face, noticing for the first time that he did have his vampire features. Closing his eyes, he tried to think of something soothing, like yes, Willow's trip to the beach. "Something's wrong with Faith. She's tense, nervous, and bruised. Ugly bruises, the sort that no human could put on a Slayer. And I don't think the prison knows anything about it, at least, not that they're admitting."

"Do you think the Council's behind it?" Cordelia looked stunned.

Angel shrugged, wishing that he knew more. "I don't know. But they're one of the top two possibilities that I can think of who would have the resources and finesse to try something like it. None of the local vampire or demon leaders would be able to try it. If they could pass for human enough to get in, there isn't enough patience or subtlety."

"I suppose that I shall have to try to learn if the council has any involvement in this. There are a few people who will still talk to me," Wesley frowned, suddenly smelling worried and a touch afraid. "If Faith is in danger we certainly must try to keep her safe."

"Wesley, this is the same Faith who went to the dark side and then tortured you, remember? Bad girl, tattoos?" Cordelia looked shocked.

"She's... That is, as Faith is my Slayer, and I have a certain responsibility towards her." Wesley was blushing now. "And how can we determine if she sincerely wanted to change if someone kills her?"

Angel felt like he'd missed an important clue. Wesley might be talking like someone who felt responsible, but he didn't act like it. He acted almost like a guy who's girlfriend was in trouble. Had that been why Wesley was so willing to give Faith a second chance, after everything? Because he had feelings and desires for her? "Right... We don't want Faith to be killed."

He just wished he had a better idea how to prevent it.

End part 9.