"A job?" Willow repeated, looking at Giles. "But she hasn't called or anything—"

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Giles said wearily. He'd be a liar of several sorts if he didn't admit to being disappointed in the girl he'd come to see as his daughter. Out of sheer hubris, he'd had himself listed as next-of-kin on all of her paperwork. When an employer had called him to double-check on her credentials, he'd been pleased.

He'd also been very sick at heart.

"However," he broke himself away from his own emotions, "She's been recently employed at a women's gym, teaching aerobics and self-defense." He cleared his throat and smiled fleetingly. "I'd say she's overqualified."

Trying to lighten the obviously tense moment, Willow smiled. "I'd say. I got all huffy-puffy when I tried to walk with her to class once." When it was obvious that her effort had failed, she laid a hand on Giles's arm. "It's okay. She's just recharging. I hardly talked to anyone when I went away to England. And with the news about Spike, who knows what she's dealing with."

Giles nodded silently and tried to push down the niggling instinct inside him that told him something wasn't right. Nothing was terribly wrong, but something was skewed.

Even as he tried to tell himself to forget about it, Giles started trying to pin down the source of his unease.

~~~

Buffy eyed herself in the bathroom mirror and made a noise of disgust. "Dawn! Come in here, I need to ask your advice."

Dawn instantly appeared in the doorway, head tilted curiously. "You never ask my advice," she said pointedly, swinging her ponytail. "So give me a moment, this is really, really exciting."

Buffy glared at her sister and words were unneeded. The message of "Stop being a smartass" was coming through loud and clear. She glanced down at her clothes, wincing anew at the thick black tights and black leotard she was required to wear. "Is there anything I can do to make this better? Less… mime-y?"

"Mimular," Dawn suggested, giggling. "I think it looks good. You look tough." She nodded authoritatively and added, "You'd only look like a mime if you put on some gloves."

"Note to self, no gloves," Buffy muttered. "Well, if this is the best I can do, it's the best I can do." She glanced at the clock on the wall and back at Dawn. "You're going to be late if you don't get going."

Dawn looked up at the clock and let out a squeak of surprise. "Gotta go," she exclaimed as though the idea had been hers. Swiping a hurried kiss over Buffy's cheek, she ran out the door, hair flying behind her like a flag. "Good luck!" she shouted just before the door slammed.

"I'll need it," Buffy said, smoothing her hands down her sides and taking a deep breath. She was saved further worry when the telephone rang. Still staring in the mirror, she snagged the cordless phone from the sink. "Summers residence," she said lightly, tucking her hair behind her ear and re-evaluating her reflection.

"Buffy! It's so good to hear your voice!" Willow's voice, bright and slightly tinny, flowed over the lines. "I—We—heard you got a job! Congratulations!"

Buffy heard the undertones, the sadness, the disappointment, and knew she'd let down one more person. She'd worked so hard her entire life to avoid just that, treading the thin line between truth and lies, shunting her own feelings aside for others. She'd worked so hard, but it seemed more difficult and more distant a matter. It was too hard to live up to everyone's expectations for the little things when she knew good and well she'd come through when it counted most.

She'd given up the man she loved in order to save the world. In point of fact, Spike made the second man she'd loved and gave up. What more did anyone want from her?

"Thanks, Will," she said, her voice sounding faraway to her own ears. "I start today. This morning, to be precise."

"It's morning there?" Willow couldn't get over the time difference, though it secretly tickled the dork in her to be able to talk to someone who was experiencing a completely different time of day. It was like… well, it was like magic. "Sorry, stupid me."

Buffy laughed, a little of the genuineness reaching the sound. "Not stupid. It's funny."

"You sound good," Willow said. "Everyone says hi. We were all worried, you know." On her end, she slipped a thumbnail to her lips and flicked it against her teeth, trying not to go on and just bite the damned thing. Habits were just so gosh-darned… habitual.

"Worried? Color me puzzled," Buffy said. "I spent how many years fighting nasties every night and now you're worried?" She started to laugh, then stopped when she played back her own words. How many times had she called them "nasties"? Wasn't that Spike's word?

"We just thought you'd be more shaken up, what with what… Angel told you and all," Willow said delicately. She'd heard Buffy clearly, a little too clearly, in fact. When she'd said "nasties" there had been more than just a hint of the salty British accent in there. Willow's heart ached for her friend and she longed to span the distance that only phone lines crossed.

"What did Angel tell me?" Buffy sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, feeling her knees shaking beneath her. There was something… something there that she hadn't been told but knew anyway. Someone, something, somewhere… Damn it, focus. "I haven't spoken to Angel since I left," she said woodenly, tasting dread in her mouth like sour bile.

Silence greeted her from the other end as Willow gripped the handset hard enough to turn her knuckles stark white. He didn't tell her? Why… how? But they were questions easily enough answered. Hadn't she herself been in love before? She was going on three times now. Wouldn't she have done a little fibbing for Oz, for Tara, for Kennedy? Of course. But this… this was bigger than fibbing. "Oh, Buffy," Willow said softly, the sadness laced with pity.

Buffy gripped one wrist with the other to keep her hand from shaking, and she forced her voice to be steady. "Willow, what was Angel supposed to tell me?"

"The necklace, Buffy. It had… other powers." After a pause, a sigh, a catch in Willow's breath that told Buffy she was either near or in tears, she spoke again. "It could have made him human, Buffy."

She had nothing to say. What was she supposed to say? She hadn't felt this way since—

Since Joyce had died. She hadn't felt so wordless, so powerless, so completely at a loss as to what to do. What does social protocol say I do now? she thought mechanically. Nothing. Social protocol didn't cover things like vampire boyfriends getting souls, and it sure as hell didn't cover vampire boyfriends getting unvamped. "Willow, are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Willow whispered, hating Angel with every fiber of her being just as much as she pitied him. What a horrible, horrible situation. "If you need me… if you need any of us to come out there, Buffy, you know we'll—"

"I need to go to work," Buffy said, still holding her wrist with her hand. "You'll want to tell Angel what happened here. He'll want to expect to hear from me." So saying, she opened the vice grip of her hand and let the phone drop to the cold tile floor.

~~~

"I'll help you," the man repeated, stepping into Spike's line of vision. It was one of the Watchers, a younger man with an incredible mane of ink-black hair.

"Why?"

"Because my mother was French," the beautiful Watcher said, as though that explained all. At the puzzled look on Spike's face, he laughed. "Me, I have a soft heart for romance. And if you are actually trying to find your true love—" he shrugged. "Well, then, I have no choice but to help." Extending a hand politely, he stepped forward. "I am Laramie," he said in a lilting accent that spoke more of Paris and lights than of London and fog. "And you are?"

"Spike." The decision came and went swiftly. If William was the man who had been dumb enough to think he loved Cecily and Spike was the man who had loved his sworn enemy, he would choose to be Spike.

William was unimportant if she didn't know him by that name.

"All right, Spike," Laramie said, the name sounding strange and blunt in his fluid voice. With green eyes so pale they were translucent, he pinned Spike with an intense and unwavering stare. "Tell Ramie… how far are you willing to go?"

"As far as it takes, mate," Spike said instantly, sitting up to bring himself more level with the beautiful man. "You just tell me what I need to do."