"It's a beautiful day," Parker said. "How about we just walk? Do a little talking?"

Talking was the last thing Buffy wanted to do. She had too many secrets, too many things to hide. "The walk sounds perfect." The only way the talking would work was if… "So tell me about Parker Abrams. What do you do when you aren't out rescuing people from loans sharks or exes?"

He hadn't let go of Buffy's hand. In fact, his thumb made tiny circles on the back of it as they ambled along the path through the Quad. "Actually, you're my first rescue," Parker confessed. "You seem to bring out the knight in shining armor in me, Buffy Summers."

"Really?" Buffy glanced up, smiling slightly. "I'm not normally the needs to be saved type." In fact, I usually do the saving, she continued in her head. "It feels nice not to fight my own battles for once."

"Look!" Parker pointed the finger of his free hand at her. "Was that a smile? A real smile?"

Giggling, Buffy ducked her head. "No. No way. You must be seeing things."

Silence answered her. Then, in a puzzled voice, Parker said, "I didn't imagine the smile, but… Buffy, what's this on your neck?"

Shit. Stiffening, Buffy fought the urge to yank the collar of her shirt over the scar Parker had seen. "Oh, that." That's just the bite my vampire boyfriend gave me after the Mayor of Sunnydale poisoned him.

Parker stopped walking, his hand tightening around hers. "Buffy?" He obviously wasn't going to leave it alone.

"I…uh…I got bitten." Understatement. With what she hoped was a convincingly casual smile, Buffy explained, "By a puppy."

"Must have been a really angry puppy. You have a scar." Parker stroked a finger over the mark, and Buffy shivered at the light, almost tickling touch.

Needing to change the subject, Buffy tried to turn the tables. "Now that you've seen my scars…do I get to see yours?" She nearly rolled her eyes; that was way too flirty for a first stroll across campus.

From his grin, Parker didn't see it that way. "I don't have anything like that, Buffy." The grin got wider. "All of my scars are psychological."

This was better. Buffy relaxed now that the conversation wasn't focused on her. "Oooh, inner scars. Those are the best kind." She bumped his hip and then resumed their walk. "So what is it?" Emulating his fishing expedition from the previous night, she asked, "Bad break up? Crazy ex-girlfriend?" Enjoying their banter, Buffy kept trying to guess at Parker's scars. "I know. You're a CIA agent, posing as a college student."

"Not quite." Parker wasn't smiling.

Getting a bad feeling about his answer, Buffy sobered, too. "Parker?" Had she offended him somehow?

"My father…" She saw him swallow hard. "My father died recently."

"Oh my God, Parker." Buffy came to an abrupt halt and spun to face him. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up." Bowing her head, she mumbled, "Bad, bad Buffy." She should go to Giles'. At least there, she didn't have to worry about hurting anything except the heavy bag and her hands.

As she pulled away, Parker gripped her arm. "Hey, don't worry. I'm OK to talk about it now." He peered intently into her eyes. "Really."

Buffy slowly accepted his assurances. "I can't imagine losing a parent. Well, I lost my dad a long time ago. To his secretary," she said bitterly. "But Mom…" Shivering, Buffy flinched at just the thought.

"Yeah. It's not easy." Buffy wrapped an arm around Parker as he went on, "I don't want you to get the wrong idea, though. This isn't some big ploy for sympathy. I'm not like that."

He smiled again, and Buffy couldn't resist returning it. He had a nice smile.

"Don't you just hate guys that are all 'I'm dark and brooding, so give me love?'" Parker led them off the path and sat on a shaded bench.

"I don't think I've met anyone like that," Buffy lied. The scar on her neck itched suddenly. "I've been too busy to do much dating." That wasn't exactly untrue. Slaying and a normal social life didn't go together. And Angel…well, moonlit picnics in cemeteries didn't count in Buffy's book.

A light breeze rustled the leaves and branches overhead.

Parker turned slowly, drawing his right knee up onto the bench and facing Buffy. "You give any thought to changing that? Maybe making time in your schedule for a date now and then?"

"Not until now," Buffy answered. Was he leaning toward her? Watching closely, Buffy decided he was. Parker got closer and closer. Buffy felt him press into her side, as his head tilted, and his lips hovered above hers for a long second. "I think it's time I made time for dating."

She shifted her weight, moving in to Parker's soft kiss.


Smoothing her sweating hands over her skirt, Tara stepped out of the bedroom. "G-good morning," she said softly.

"Hey, T. Thought you were gonna hide in there all day." Faith looked up from the dagger she was sharpening. "You sleep OK?"

"Yes." Tara didn't think the Goddess or her mother would object to the white lie. She'd slept better in the bed than in the library last night, after all. "What are you d-doing?" Pointing at the knife, she asked, "Why do you h-have a d-dagger?"

Faith cocked her head and frowned. "You forget your date already?" She held up the weapon, twirling the pommel in her hand. "These come in handy when I need to step in."

"Uh…" Willow had mentioned Sunnydale wasn't safe, but they had so many problems Faith carried weapons? "Are you a c-cop?" Didn't police officers carry guns, instead of knives?

A husky chuckle let her know she was off base with her question. "Definitely not a cop, T. Special security, maybe." Faith hopped up and shoved the dagger into a leather sheath resting on an end table. "But that ain't a big deal right now. You want some breakfast?"

Off balance from the rapid topic change, Tara nodded dazedly. "Sure. B-breakfast sounds good."

"Hope you don't mind company. I'm starving." Moving quickly, Faith crossed the living room to the small galley kitchen. "Bacon and eggs, OK? I'm pretty good with the simple stuff. Anything else and things get crispy."

"I c-can make my own br-breakfast, Faith," Tara protested.

Brown eyes narrowed at her.

"And I w-won't even burn down the kitchen." So there, she added inside. "If I'm going to be s-staying here then I'm not a guest. I n-need to earn my keep."

Faith cracked several eggs against the countertop and dumped the yolks and whites into a bowl. "Next time. Grab a seat and enjoy your one day of pamperin'."

Tara did as ordered. Climbing onto a stool at the pass-through, she watched Faith whisk the bowl of eggs so rapidly that they turned to yellow froth. "How is Wil-Willow this morning?"

The whisk slowed for a second before picking up speed again. "Red's dealing." Faith didn't seem to want to talk about her girlfriend.

Unfortunately for her, Tara needed to know more. She didn't want to stay here if her presence was going to cause problems between Faith and Willow. "She didn't look like she was 'dealing' last night. She'd been crying." A lot, from the red-rimmed eyes and swollen nose Willow had sported when they'd gotten to the apartment. "She and B-Buffy are good fr-friends?" Tara struggled to make sense of that.

"Yeah, she and B have been through a lot." Still not looking up, Faith left the egg mixture sitting on the counter and pulled a rasher of bacon out of the refrigerator. The strips lined the skillet she placed on the stove.

"Wh-what about you and Buffy?" If she hadn't been watching closely, Tara wouldn't have seen Faith's mouth tighten at the question. "Y-You don't seem to like her ve-very much."

Turning on the burner, Faith finally met her eyes. "Look, T, you can't lump me and B together like you can her and Red. I ain't been in Sunnydale that long, and, well… Let's just say B and me had some issues."

Those issues hadn't been the same ones she'd had with Buffy; Tara was sure of that. She sat quietly while Faith flipped the frying bacon pieces. Faith had been nice to her – more than nice. She'd trusted her with information Tara didn't think she shared with many people. Tara wasn't going to put her in the middle of her problems with Buffy.

After a few minutes, though, Faith picked up the conversation. "Before Red, I was a real 'want, take, have' kinda girl. B got all up in my shit when I went after Red. Made sure I knew if I hurt her, she'd make sure I regretted it."

"Bu-Buffy threatened you?" Tara stared at Faith for a second and then burst into giggles.

Faith's dimples popped out at the sound. "You laugh, T, but the Pastel Princess ain't as helpless as she looks." Using hot dog tongs, Faith removed the bacon from the skillet and placed them on a plate and covered them with paper towel before pouring the well-beaten eggs into the still-sizzling skillet.

"I kn-know she's not," Tara muttered, all amusement draining out of her. Buffy wasn't helpless at all.

Looking up, Faith said quietly, "Me and B have a truce, T. We leave each other alone so Red don't feel like a wishbone, but… I ain't never seen her do anything like what she told us last night."

"You wa-want me to give her another chance?" Tara stuttered. She could feel her shoulders hunch. She couldn't do that. Not even for Faith.

Soft footsteps sounded in the kitchen, and then Faith's hand tucked Tara's hair behind her ear. "T," Tara looked up at a very serious Faith, "I would never do that. You gotta make up your own mind. If that means you hate B's guts, it's your call."