Buffy had only just finished wondering aloud about Reece when a panel in the wall on the other side of the banquet table shot open. She jumped back, actually everyone jumped back, as a child tumbled out to land smack bang on top of the delicate Fall flower and twig table decoration.

"It twernt my fault, Olwyn, I sweer!" The new arrival said quickly. Then, spotting a bottle of champagne by his side, the newcomer picked it up and began guzzling.

The wizard stepped forward. "Paddy, where have you been?"

Realising that this wasn't a child, Buffy stepped to the table again too. Wondering what kind of monster she was about to meet next. A very short man, dressed in green, with an Irish accent…

No way, it couldn't be!

"I wus trapped between de walls!" he complained when he'd slacked his thirst. "Oy couldn't git away from dem!"

"Get away from whom?" Owen asked in concern as he helped him down from the table.

Muffled cursing came from the hole and a few seconds later a girl pulled herself out head first, to fall inelegantly down between the wall and the table.

"Where is it?" she demanded as she jumped upright, waving a bloody carving knife around menacingly.

"Rona?" Buffy stared at the angry slayer in surprise.

"Buffy?" Rona looked just as surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"We could ask you the same question, kid." Faith strolled over.

"I…" Rona looked around properly for the first time since flying out of the shoot and realised this was a really different crowd to the one she'd been partying with a few hours ago. "Uh?"

"My thtalker!" Iggy greeted her jovially. "It hurtth that you gave up thtalking me to thtalk Paddy inthtead."

Rona stared at him for a beat, before looking at Buffy. "What did he say?"

"I have no idea," she admitted. "But more importantly, what were you doing back there?"

"I was…" she spotted Paddy trying to hide behind Owen's flowing robes. "…trying to catch him!"

"And you think we are monsters," Victor said disdainfully.

"Why?" Zeke asked with his natural grin.

"He was stalking me!" Rona said, still frenetic with adrenaline.

"Paddy doesn't stalk people," The Count said with casual assurance. "His legs are not long enough."

"Whereath you have already revealed yourthelf as a fairly competent thtalker earlier tonight," Iggy reminded them.

"He has a knife!" Rona shouted, pointing at him.

Everyone turned to look at Paddy, who held his hands up to show he wasn't armed.

"Patrick," Owen said sternly.

Swiftly, Paddy unbuttoned his coat to show there were no knives beneath it either.

They all turned back to Rona. "What?"

"Uh." Buffy nodded to her hand.

Rona slowly turned to look and spotted the knife she was holding. The blood was drying on the blade. She thrust it forward angrily. Those closest stepped back again.

"This is his knife!"

"How convenient," said Victor meaningfully.

"Did she stab you, Paddy?" Ptah asked, eyeing the drying blood.

"No, this is my blood! He stabbed me."

"You do not seem injured," Fred rumbled, looking closely as if to make sure.

"I am." Rona dropped the knife to the ballroom floor and pulled off one of her boots. She lifted her foot towards them. "Look."

They all did. The smooth brown foot was uncut. A slight reddish blemish was noticeable on the edge, but it didn't look recently stabbed.

When no one immediately exonerated her, she pulled her foot back to herself for a look. Dropping it back to the floor in disgust, she sighed, "Frikkin' Slayer healing! Honestly Buffy…" she began.

"I believe you," Buffy cut in, aware that the monsters were closing ranks, protecting their buddy.

"Well I do not see why you would," Dracula drawled. "When there is no proof."

Faith snatched the boot from the floor and inspected the foot part. After a moment she wriggled her finger into the half inch gash in the leather. She held it up for everyone to see.

"How's this for proof?"

"That could have occurred at any time," Owen said calmly; to Buffy it looked like an act.

There was agreement from several of the monsters all the same.

Before any of the Slayers had a chance to dispute it, Reece came charging into the ballroom. Sweating hard and out of breath, his shirt tails flapped behind him.

"Where is she?" he panted before he spotted Rona. Storming to her side, he said roughly, "Don't ever do anything so foolish again!"

She ignored this and pointed to Paddy. "Can you tell them we were chasing that in self defence."

"You were chasing him too?" Buffy asked.

He seemed startled to hear her voice, but was too busy trying to catch his breath to do more than nod and politely greet her, "Miss Summers." He looked around some more and saw the other elder slayer. He gave her a nod too. "Faith."

"How come he's all formal with you and I just get 'Faith'?"

"Because I have a last name to be formal with," Buffy muttered, still angry with her.

"Hey, I have a last name too, ya know," Faith griped, picking up on her attitude. "I just don't happen to know it off-hand."

"Whatever. So why were you running around in the walls anyway?" Buffy asked. "Before you started chasing this guy, who, I'd just like to point out, isn't what I think he is, because they don't exist!" she added firmly for her own benefit.

"When I went in I thought I was following a vamp. With a party full of high school kids, seemed better than letting him wander around without a chaperone. Didn't expect to get stuck in there with a knife-wielding Munchkin," Rona explained, glaring at Paddy.

"Okay, makes sense so far," Faith nodded.

Buffy waited for Reece's explanation.

"I was looking for Rona. I saw the open door, reasoned that as we hadn't found her in the rest of the house this was the logical place to look next, and so I went through it. As it turns out I was right."

"So you left my little sister running through the woods in the dark to run around after a… a…" she pointed at Paddy.

"No, I left Dawn walking around a well-lit house packed with her school friends," Reece countered. "And while we're on the subject where are they all?" He looked around at the assorted monsters. "And who are all of you?" He looked at Buffy again. "And why haven't you slayed the very obvious vampire standing beside you?"

Buffy glanced around at Dracula, wrinkling her nose. "He'll only come back again."

"You can do that?" Faith smiled up at him, seemingly smitten again.

"Okay, we're going," Buffy said firmly.

"I think that would be for the best," Owen agreed.

"So that little runt gets away with stabbing me," Rona asked in disgust.

"Call it punishment for trespassing on my property," Owen said smoothly; a hand over Paddy's face to stop him from issuing insults of his own.

"What?" Rona wasn't happy with that.

"Call it the one that got away, yo," Faith, grinning, handed her back her boot. "It happens."

"It's sucks!"

"It does," Buffy agreed. "Now let's go. Faith, are you coming?"

"'Course I'm coming. You got the keys to the truck?" she asked Reece.

He checked his pockets and there was a satisfying jangle. "Yes. But really, what happened to the party?"

Rona was pulling her boot back on, but seeing Reece's gesture she quickly patted her own pocket. Feeling a lump in there, she pulled the small digital camera out to check it hadn't broken.

"Thank God," she breathed seeing it was all intact.

"What do you have there?" Victor peered closer with interested suspicion.

"Uh, a camera," Rona said sarcastically as she pressed the 'on' button to make sure it still worked. "You know, to take pictures with."

"You point it at someone and it records a perfect image," Fred explained patiently.

"Hmm, fascinating."

"Magic like that is dangerous," Ptah said, shaking his head.

"It's not magic," Owen assured him. "Simply technology. You haven't been taking any photos in here have you?"

Rona's eyes flicked to Reece as she said, "I never got the chance."

"Good," said Owen.

"I have an idea!" Igor capered on the spot excitedly. "Does it have a timer?"

"No!" Owen said, guessing what his friend had in mind.

"Pleathe?" Igor pleaded. "Jutht a thmall momento."

Owen sighed.

Five minutes later, with everyone still blinking the flash from their eyes, they walked back through to the main entrance. Buffy and Faith stopped at the top of the steps while Reece and Rona both kept on going wearily for the truck.

"About what we spoke of," Owen said to Buffy softly. "Have you come to a decision?"

Buffy gave him a long look and then looked around at his friends before answering. "I'm not going to go all 'Town cryer-y' with your secret double life, if that's what you're asking. At least, not unless you give me a reason to."

"Thank you," he said just as softly.

She gave him a tiny nod. "Well, guys, it's been… weird, but… enjoy the rest of your night, I guess."

Faith downed the dregs of her tankard and handed it to Dracula. "Nice meeting you. And thanks for the chat. You gave me some stuff to think about." She nodded at him seriously.

Buffy frowned at her, but didn't say anything.

They were walking down the front steps together when Buffy suddenly turned again. With a bemused smile, she addressed Paddy,

"Sorry, but I gotta know. Are you really a… a…" she shook her head. "Nope, can't do it. I need some mystery in my life. Okay, see-ya."

"What was that about?" Faith asked as they walked over to the truck.

Buffy just shook her head and opened the passenger door.

Reece already had the engine running as he looked over. "It's probably illegal, but if you two don't mind sharing one seat, we can all fit up front." He smirked as he added, "I'm sure you won't mind sitting on Faith's lap."

Buffy took a deep breath and let Faith slide past her to sit on the remaining seat. When she was comfortable and patting her lap for Buffy to hop on, Buffy shook her head.

"Actually, I just remembered I get car sick if I ride on people's laps."

"We can switch?" Faith offered with a shrug.

"That'll do it too. I'll sit in the back. I don't mind. It's only for five minutes." She closed the door before Faith could protest or offer to join her and hopped easily onto the flat bed of the truck.

The gravel made a loud crunching sound as Reece swung in a wide circle to turn and then he was heading for the long driveway. Zeke and Fred were still standing in the bright doorway and they waved to her. With a weary, morose chuckle, she waved back.


Kennedy had to be on her way home now, Willow decided as she looked at the clock on the mantle again. It was nearly one in the morning and Dawn's curfew was twelve. Not that it would matter considering Buffy still wasn't back from her date with Faith either.

What if something had happened? Maybe the truck had broken down? Or they'd been attacked by the Boudenver pre-teens like Xander had, only worse 'cause they were all hopped up on sugar tonight?

She leaned forward to pick her cell phone off the coffee table in case she'd somehow missed a call even though she was sitting right in front of it.

"Am I boring you?" Oz asked suddenly.

"What?" she asked, quickly turning her head to him. "Oh, no, not at all, sorry. I'm listening; it's just its getting late and Dawn's still out."

"Dawn?" He said the name like it was unfamiliar.

"Yeah, you know, Buffy's little sister." Her phone was on and there had been no calls or messages.

"Buffy has a little sister?"

Willow looked at him again, frowning now. "Of course she does. You remember her," she assured him.

"I do?"

"Yeah," Willow said, less sure of herself now. "You must have met her a bunch of times. She was the little nipper who used to get all googly eyed whenever she saw you. And she had that homework book that was covered in 'Dawn loves Daniel' in little hearts, 'cause she thought none of us would crack her ingenious code. Mind you, it was also covered in 'Dawn loves Xander' and 'Faith rocks, Buffy sucks' so we shouldn't give her too much credit for taste. Not that crushing on Xander is bad taste, but…" she trailed off when Oz gave her nothing but a confused little smile. "A…and we took her to the beach that one time and played Frisbee all afternoon and had the sandy sandwiches…?"

"I can remember the Frisbee and gritty sandwiches," he said. She waited for more and he shook his head slightly. "Sorry, I guess she's slipped my mind. Maybe I only met her on a full moon. Things used to be hazy then sometimes."

"Maybe," Willow said, not convinced. "But you've met her since you've been back. She was the tall brunette who made you a cup of coffee last Wednesday for one. You didn't sorta recognise her then?"

"I thought she was another Slayer."

"Wow." She sat back against the couch. "This is a first."

They'd never met anyone who was in Dawn's fake memories that didn't remember her in real life. She wondered what it meant and whether it was important. She should probably speak to Buffy about it before filling Oz in on everything. Just in case.

"Are you okay?" Oz asked.

She nodded. "So you were saying about the call you got from the wolfy psychologist," she encouraged the topic away from Dawn. "I thought she wanted to be all Miss Independent."

"She still does, but her fiancé wants her to get help."

"Ha! A therapist who needs to get help." She chuckled.

He smiled. "Well, not help with dealing, just building a cage strong enough to hold her around the full moon."

"You must be an expert at that by now. All the different places you've lived."

"I've built a few," he agreed. "But I was thinking that it might be a good idea to…"

He paused, but Willow didn't realise right away. She was looking at her phone again. Wondering whether to call Kennedy and make sure everything was alright. It had to be though, right? Or else they would have called. Kennedy and Dawn definitely had cell phones; and Naomi being a Watcher of the Twenty-first century had to have one. So why hadn't they called?

Maybe because nothing had happened; they were just enjoying themselves and had lost track of time? Which meant Kennedy was enjoying herself enough to lose track of the time. Willow wished that didn't bother her so much. Probably if things were better between them, it wouldn't, but things weren't better. They weren't even close and while she thought they were slowly working things out, maybe Kennedy thought differently; and that was why she hadn't called, or texted, or bothered to come home at a reasonable hour tonight – or, lets face it, any night that week!

"Willow?" Oz asked expectantly.

It took a second for her name to filter through and then she looked back at Oz, shaking her head a little as she realised she'd zoned out again.

"Sorry, I really am listening," she lied with an apologetic smile.

He just gave her an intense, almost compassionate look.

"I'm a little distracted," she admitted and was about to tell him why when she changed her mind. Oz didn't want to hear about her relationship worries. "But that doesn't mean I'm not interested, just… distracted. Please, go on."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm distracted? Sure I'm interested? Sure I want you to go on?" she asked with a smile. "Uh huh. We were talking about cages."

"Now that sounds kinky."

Hearing his voice, Willow looked up to see Xander coming back through from the kitchen.

"Where've you been?" she accused.

"Getting snacks, like I said." He put a bowl of corn chips and a bowl of salsa down on the coffee table.

Willow looked at them and then back at him. "You've been gone ages and that's the best you could do?"

"Hey, opening those chip bags takes time, you know!" He grinned as he set three fresh beers down too. "As does peeing, and having an argument with Vi about leaving the bathroom door open while said peeing is taking place."

"Xander!"

"What? I forgot she was up there. I'm not used to having beautiful slayers wandering out of my bedroom in the middle of the night."

He gave Willow's shoulder a gentle push to move her out of his seat. Forgetting it was her seat in the first place she automatically moved into the middle of the couch. He flopped down at the end.

"So what did I miss?" he asked, leaning forward to scoop some salsa up on a tortilla chip.

"Uh, the wolf-lady we met with this afternoon wants a custom-designed cage, and, uh, Oz had some ideas that were, uh, related?" She winced another apology in Oz's direction.

He smiled. "Yeah, that sums it up. Actually it was you I wanted to talk to about this," he said to Xander.

"Talk away," Xander offered, loading up another corn chip.

"Cages."

"Things that have werewolves in!" Xander said with game show flair.

"Exactly." Oz grinned. "I know how to build a solid cage, but I tend to just mash them together out of whatever's already in situ. Like the one I used back in Sunnydale."

"I thought that was a book cage?" Xander said, confused. "Not that I know why books might need to be caged, unless they're magic books, some of those could use some caging."

"The cage in the crypt," Oz explained. "The bars were already there, I just fitted the digital lock. With Willow's help," he added.

"No, you did it all," she praised with a big smile. "I just told you how."

"So where do I come in?" Xander asked.

"I thought maybe we could go into the cage business together. Me and the Council that is. I find the werewolves who need cages and you build them."

Xander chuckled. "What makes you think I can build cages better than you?"

"Buffy implied you could build anything."

"She did?" Xander asked, surprised but pleased. "I think she may have been exaggerating a little."

"Plus, I don't have the resources for a project like this on my own." Oz added.

"Well, it sounds like a great idea, but I can't say yes," Xander reached for his beer.

"Why?" Oz asked as Willow's expression mirrored the question. "If its 'cause you're busy we wouldn't have to start right away, and, going by the rate Willow and I have been finding actual werewolves, it'll probably only be one, maybe two a month."

"No, it's not that. Not that I'm not busy, but with Faith and Andrew helping we're making progress."

"Then what is it?" Willow asked, mystified as to why Xander didn't want to help.

"Oz said it himself. He wants to work with the Council. I'm not Council."

Willow was confused. "Well, if you're not Council, then what are you?"

Xander gave a bitter laugh and drained half of his beer in a couple of swallows. "Not a whole lot."

"Don't be stupid!" Xander looked at her sharply and she met it head on. "You're one of us! And us is the Council now. How can you think you're not a part of it? You're like… on the top level! Remember those guys that were interrogating us back when we were fighting Glory? You're higher up than them!"

"No, I'm not, Will," Xander shook his head, trying to keep a smile on his face. "I'm still one of the gang, sure, but as far as the 'family business' goes I have zero play. I can't make any decisions. I can barely even contribute."

"Of course you contribute," Willow said softly.

"Yeah, I can fix the place up, providing I have a couple of two-eyed helpers to do the dangerous stuff like cut a piece of wood in half!" Xander gave an awkward laugh when Willow simply gaped at him. "Sorry guys, didn't mean to bring the party crashing down. Who's up for a change of subject?"

"No," Willow's voice was quiet but firm. "We need to talk about this."

"No, we really don't."

"Yu-huh, this is obviously something that is seriously bothering you, Xan, a… and I get why, its serious stuff, but you've been holding on to it for way too long."

"It's my stuff, I can hold on to it as long as I want," he tried to say it flippantly, but Willow was seeing through everything now.

"Don't be such a… a boy! You know it helps to talk stuff out. That's why you listened to me jabber on the other week. You need to get this off your chest and I'm right here ready to return the favour, so… so jabber!" She insisted, fixing him with a face that brooked no argument.

Xander countered. "Oh yeah, and you and Kennedy have been on the border of Breakupsville ever since we had that talk. That kinda result doesn't convince me it's a good idea."

"Well, no," Willow admitted, shooting Oz a glance. He didn't react in any way. "But regardless of where Ken and I are at now, talking with you helped me sort things out in my head; and that's the first step to sorting it out everywhere else too."

"I've got an idea." Xander reached for the remote on the coffee table. "Let's see if there are any more blood curdling, heart stopping movies on – that'll be way more fun."

Willow snatched the glossy black remote from him before he could un-mute the television. He gave her an annoyed look before slumping back against the couch with his beer.

"Talking can help," Oz spoke softly into the silence. "Sometimes just having the words out there makes it easier to see the solution."

"How would you know?" Xander spat. "I didn't hear you do much talking before you ran away and deserted your friends for years and years."

"Xander!"

"It's okay," Oz murmured. "He does have a point."

"Sorry," Xander gave Oz the briefest of guilty smiles. "Didn't mean to be lashy-outy guy on you. Just feeling a little claustrophobic all of a sudden."

"Literally or figuratively?" Willow asked, worried.

"I don't know, a little of both?" He moved, shifting himself to the arm of the couch where Willow had perched earlier.

She wondered whether to drop this topic for now after all. If it was affecting him physically that might mean his problems were something that ran a lot deeper than she could help with tonight. Perhaps he even needed proper counselling. The doctor who had dealt with his eye in Sunnydale had even suggested it, but Xander had dismissed the idea out of hand and with so much happening at once, Willow had never thought to bring it up again.

She kicked herself for the oversight, and in her guilt, blurted the idea out.

"Do you think you need to go see someone?

"Like a shrink?" His laugh was high-pitched.

"Yes."

"What?" He stared at her in dismay. "No, I don't need to go and see a shrink. I'm not crazy! I just need some time to get my head together…"

"You've had months," she pointed out.

"…Without you hounding me about it all the time!" he finished angrily.

"You're in a bad place, Xander!"

"I know I'm in a bad place," he retorted. "The woman I love died saving Andrew, of all people, because I couldn't trust my sword skills enough to be there to protect her! Which, believe me, was just the last in a long line of the ways I let her down!"

"Buffy wanted you looking after Dawn," Willow reminded him. "She obviously trusted you're swordsmanship enough."

Xander went on like he hadn't heard. "My parents are MIA. I called Dad and told him to grab Mom and hightail it out of Sunnydale, and his reaction?" Xander made his voice gruff. "'Don't ever think you'll be big enough, smart enough or man enough to tell me what I should do!'. So I don't know whether they left when everyone else did, or if Dad, stubborn as an ass like always, kept the pair of them there to die too."

"Xander," Willow said his name tenderly, putting her hand on his arm.

He shook her off. "And the thing that really grates me? I don't even know how I'm supposed to feel. Am I sorry they might be dead? Why in the hell would I be?" The chokiness of his voice implied that he was.

"You could try calling some family," Oz suggested. "They might know more."

"Why? If they are alive, they're not bothering to look me up, are they?" Xander finished his beer in a couple of glugs and set the empty bottle sharply on the table. "Oh, and this is a good one, I have no job prospects to speak of, ever, thanks to my stupid lack of eye. At the time I thought, hey, whatever, no big deal. I have another one. But it turns out, uh huh, big deal! I can't do jack with one eye except flip burgers or clean toilets for the rest of my life."

"Of course you can," Willow said soothingly. "There's lots of stuff you can do. Fully blind people have lots of interesting jobs so there's no reason you can't with one perfectly good working eye."

"I don't want those jobs, I want my job!" he insisted. "I worked hard to get good at what I do. I don't have any super carpenter powers! What I've achieved came through blood, sweat and lots of black thumb-nails, and for what? No one's going to employ someone who can't even be sure if the spirit level is level or not."

"You have a job here, Xan."

"Yeah, I do," he said, nodding at her, jaw clenched. "And, not meaning to sound ungrateful or anything, but I can now look forward to living out my working days as Giles' glorified handyman."

"Well, as long as you don't mean to sound ungrateful," Willow said pointedly.

"I'm sorry! I can't help it. I used to be a part of things! I used to be one of the gang in more than just name!"

"Huh?" Oz frowned slightly.

"I used to fight demons," Xander explained in only a slightly calmer tone. "Now I have trouble fighting tricky corner tiles!"

"You can still fight," said Willow.

"Yeah, if I'm prepared to live with the constant worry that I'll accidentally poke you or Buffy in the neck instead of the big bad!"

"Well as long as it's only accidentally I'm sure no one will hold it against you."

"Believe me, Oz, I'm trying to see the funny, but it must be on my left," Xander said sullenly. "Face it, for all the good I am now, I might as well have died with Sunnydale."

"Don't ever say that," Willow said sharply, feeling sick at just the thought.

"Well, why not. Spike would be a more helpful member of the Council than I am. I should have worn the big, hellmouth-killing amulet. At least then I'd have gone out with a bang."

"It had to be worn by a champion," Willow reminded.

"Something else I'm not, nor will I ever be." He reached for Willow's untouched beer on the table, but she snatched it away like she had the remote. "You're not drinking it!"

"You've had enough! If you hadn't you wouldn't be talking such garbage."

"It's not garbage, give me the beer."

"No, its mine." Willow started drinking it, determined that there wouldn't be any left for Xander.

He actually started looking a little amused as gulp after gulp disappeared. "You're gonna regret that later."

"Uh, Will." Oz caught her eye, looking concerned he motioned for the bottle.

There was only a dribble in there when she couldn't take anymore. She handed the bottle to Oz.

"I'm not a champion either," she said, panting for breath. "And you don't see me drinking myself sick over it."

Xander raised an eyebrow as she let out a noisy, long belch.

"That was just gas!" she defended herself. "Besides, it had nothing to do with not being a champion. I'm drinking because you're being too hard on yourself!"

"Well, if you're drinking because of that, why can't I?"

"You have a place here, Xander. You have a purpose. And the sooner you realise that, the sooner you can start dealing with everything else that's bothering you."

"You're right."

Willow relaxed slightly at Xander's words, as much as the bottle of gassy beer in her gut would allow anyway. How Xander could drink like that all night every night was beyond her. It wasn't as if she was teetotal, she liked a beer now and again, she'd already had a few tonight, but they'd been drunk for pleasure not for blotting out misery. She burped again, but managed to cover it with her hand this time.

Drinking to cover pain was like doing magic to make up for insecurities – it would just make you do stupid things and feel like crap the next morning. She was about to lay that one on Xander when he started talking again.

"My place here is a result of who I know, not what I can do. I think we're all agreed that the Watchers Council had way too much of that before. If the new Council is going to be as better as Giles hopes, I don't think taking the same wrong paths is a good idea."

"How can you think you're a wrong path?" Willow asked distressed.

"To get to your second point," Xander continued, ignoring her again. "My purpose is to fix the camp up the way Giles wants. I can do that, with help, no problem, but so could any construction-trained chimp."

"Well, you're ahead there at least," Oz smiled. "Not many Chimps in Ohio."

Xander grinned at him, leaning forward to grab some more chips. He dipped them all in the salsa and lifted them to his mouth. Trying hard not to spray crumbs, he said, "Yay, I caughta break."

"You're an idiot!" Willow barked at him, and maybe the beer she'd downed was going to her head, but mostly she was just sick of his attitude. "Forget fixing up the house; well don't forget it obviously, but aside from that you know how important you are. To me, to Buffy, to everyone! How can you downplay your role so much? You're an integral part of the new Council!"

Xander shook his head. "No. You might be, because you're the big camp Wicca woman, and Buffy is because she's all General McSlayer, and Kennedy, because she's Colonel McSlayer and Robin definitely is," his voice turned sour, "because he's all McSon of a Slayer and Mctrained by a Watcher since he was, like, what Four?"

Oz made another attempt at lightening the mood. "Is anyone else suddenly craving a Big Mac?"

Willow ignored him. "So because you're not a Witch, or a Slayer, or a… Robin? You're all huffy? Why? You were none of those things before, either."

"We weren't at the beginning of a brave new world then," he pointed out, dipping another handful of chips into the salsa at the same time. If he couldn't comfort drink, he was going to comfort eat, apparently. "Plus, I could do stuff. I used to fill the Scoobies' normal-guy-demon-fighter quota. Now you guys have Robin and he's got bigger muscles than me, has better training than me and all he needs is a cape and tights and he's like the perfect ready-made Watcher. That leaves me all… superfluous, if that means what I think it does. About as useful as tap water in a Vampire lair." He shoved the chips in his mouth and crunched them up.

"You still can do stuff!" Willow yelled at him, her frustration showing. "You know, I'm starting to think you're biggest problem is just jealousy."

"Why? Because you have two eyes, a girlfriend and the world as your oyster, and I don't?" Xander nearly knocked the salsa bowl off the table as he angrily dunked an even bigger handful of chips into it. "Maybe you're right."

Willow shook her head in disgust. "No, because the rest of us have something to offer other than bitterness and resentment, and you don't!"

Xander's mouth, open to receive his chips and dip, slammed into a thin, straight line. He glared daggers at Willow for a never-ending minute, during which Oz cleared his throat but didn't say anything. Willow just held his stare, fire for fire. The salsa coating the bottom ends of four or five chips slowly dripped onto Xander's bare chest.

It was a few seconds before he looked down at it, breaking the deadlock between them, and even when he did it took another second or two for him to comprehend what was causing the cold, sticky sensation. Finally, throwing the drippy chips back into the bowl they'd come from, he shot to his feet, fingers trying to clear up the red, gooey mess dribbling between his nipples.

When he realised it was impossible, he shot Willow one of the nastiest looks she'd ever seen on him.

"Thanks for your understanding, Will. I'm so glad you were there for me." With that, he stormed towards the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Willow called after him, her voice even more distressed than before.

He didn't answer as he pushed through the swing door and Willow's eyes landed on the blob of salsa he'd left on the couch.

"I shouldn't have said that," she whispered painfully to the blob.

"I think he's just going to clean up."

She looked up at Oz, her eyes getting watery. "No, I really shouldn't have said that!"

"He'll be okay," Oz said with a lot of certainty. "Maybe he needed to hear it."

"No." Willow shook her head. "Even if he did, I shouldn't have been the one to say it; and besides, he's can't be jealous, Xander's not like that! Maybe he has some issues, but they're coming from something else, something that's making him act like this. Like his parents not getting in touch with him or…or…"

"Or the loss of an eye," Oz said softly.

"Yes, his eye!" Willow almost wailed. "And there I go being all stompy foot and throwing accusations around!"

As the tears started to fall, Willow tried scooping up the blob of salsa with her fingertips to get it off the couch. Giles would be mad if it was still there in the morning.

"Willow?" When Willow didn't answer him or look up, Oz put his arm around her shoulders. "It'll be okay."

"I have to clean this." Was all Willow could say with the way the tears were catching her breath.

She leaned into Oz's comforting shoulder, but didn't take her attention from the red stain on the couch cushion as she continued to rub at it with her fingers. His consoling warmth could have been anyone's at that point; all she could think about was how to make things right with Xander.


Giles fumbled for the switch to his bedside lamp and, once he could see to do so, quietly rose from his bed. Although his hair was rumpled and his eyes looked bleary, he hadn't actually been to sleep yet, and he knew he wasn't going to fall asleep after what he had just heard.

Fetching his navy-blue dressing gown from the hook on the back of his door, he pulled it on and then stood in the centre of his room for a moment or two, rubbing at his eyes, before setting about finding his glasses.

The noise from the living room had been keeping him awake all night, not wide awake it was true, but just on the cusp of falling into a much needed deep sleep. He knew he had gone to bed extremely early though, and so had chosen not to complain about the screams from the television or the excited conversation, which to be fair wasn't much more than a murmur through the walls. After all, he had insisted on taking the ground floor bedroom – Xander had warned him at the time that he would probably regret it – but it had the ensuite and was directly adjacent to his office.

However, once it was getting on for one in the morning and the voices started rising, he began to get annoyed. His over-tiredness making him irritable, he was about to get up and give them a stern reprimand when he became aware of the actual conversation they were having.

He had laid still then, in the dark, listening intently to what was rapidly becoming a heated argument in the other room. All of his irritation deflated as heard the quiet desperation in Xander's tone, that over and over he tried to play off, no doubt with a small smile on his face and a cornered look in his remaining eye.

"Oh, Willow," he'd groaned quietly when she suggested therapy.

It wasn't that he didn't agree. In fact he really wished he'd thought of it months ago himself, but if Xander was already feeling trapped by Willow's unremitting concern, she should have known better than to blurt it out in such a manner. Especially in front of a third person. Xander would no doubt see it as a weakness to need any such help, and with a father like his that was unfortunately understandable.

As the argument turned nasty towards the end – with both Willow and Xander hurt and frustrated with the other – he had groaned again, feeling compassion for both of them, but wanting to knock their bloody heads together too.

Glasses on, he ran his hand over his hair, flattening it back down a little and wondered whether to go after Xander. Perhaps, considering that the young man seemed to think that he was now his Lord and Master, he would have better hope of getting through to him. Giles waved that idea away with a flick of his hand and went to sit at the small writing desk against the window. Xander was unlikely to be receptive to anyone tonight now that he was angry, and it would do no good to have him feel like his friends were ganging up on him. Better to wait until the morning when tempers were less flared.

He pulled out his diary and opened it to a page a few weeks prior to the current date to re-read the entry. He kept the book in here because he knew both Willow and Buffy wandered into his office at will to find some paper, or a pen, or, he smirked a little, anything that was left lying around that just happened to accidentally fall open when they turned the page…

The entry was for the day the Watcher cadets had departed, most of it was concerned with Faith's arrival and Craig's little stunt, but he had jotted down some notes on quite a different subject and listening to Xander's complaints about his lack of responsibility here had reminded him of it.

Buffy said something interesting today. Watchers called to the fight.

This has happened before of course, not every Watcher is a direct descendant of those that called the original Slayer forth, but from

what I have been taught, it is discouraged. Why? Is it simply because secrecy is paramount to this duty, or is there a darker reason? Would

an influx of fresh blood into the Council be detrimental to its ultimate

goal? (Look up past recruitment drives – if such things existed).

Taking the title of Watcher to include someone who not only trains their Slayer, but also looks after their physical and emotional well-being; someone who aides in preparing her for duty and who stands by her side in battle; someone who, either verbally or by their actions, has sworn to do their all to help her in this fight… If that is the true definition of a Watcher, then Buffy Summers has had three of us at once since she was sixteen, sometimes more.

Is there any harm in merely making it official?

Giles read the entry a second time and then, taking his glasses off and tapping one of the arms against his bottom lip, he sat back in his chair to think it over.


"Thank the goddess!" Kennedy breathed as they finally turned onto their long private drive to home.

"Extreme ditto!" Dawn agreed, and then chuckled. "You're even starting to sound like Willow."

Kennedy smirked. "She may have had a certain amount of influence on me."

"Okay, now you've finally admitted you love her, dish the dirt," Dawn chuckled again. "Is she like magic personified in the sack?"

Kennedy pushed Dawn's shoulder playfully. "You can't ask something like that!"

"Why not? I'm not a little kid; I'm only a year younger than you. Besides, I'm not a virgin anymore," Dawn said with pride. "So it's not like I have to be shielded from the big, bad sex."

"You're nearly two years younger than me, and anyway," Kennedy grinned, "it's just not polite."

"You'd tell Buffy or Faith if they asked," Dawn countered.

"They wouldn't ask… okay, maybe Faith would," Kennedy conceded.

"I thought we were best friends, this is the sort of thing best friends ask each other, right?" Dawn pushed. "Fen would tell me."

Kennedy rolled her eyes. "Let's cut to the chase. You want me to ask you what Reece is like, right?"

"No!" Dawn said quickly, acutely embarrassed.

"So this isn't you wanting to discuss your first time with someone who isn't a Junior or your sister?"

They walked in almost silence until Dawn timidly muttered, "Maybe… a little."

"So what was it like?"

The topic couldn't be further from the one Kennedy wanted to think about right now, but they'd been talking about Willow most of the way home. She owed it to Dawn to listen for at least a minute.

"It was good," Dawn said quietly. "Better than what I'd been told to expect, but…"

"But?" Kennedy echoed.

"That's not really what I want to talk about. The thing is we haven't done it since and… and I don't know if that's weird or not."

"Do you want to do it again?"

"Yes! I mean… you know, I wouldn't mind."

"And does he?"

Dawn shrugged. "He said after the first time we went too fast too soon and we should slow it down, you know, for a while."

Kennedy nodded. "Sounds like the first thing he's ever said that I can respect."

"And I totally respect it too," Dawn said quickly. "I mean, I know he's got important responsibilities here and he can't just flout them to spend time with me. And what are Buffy and Giles gonna think of him if he neglects Rona because we're off doing… something."

"Were those his actual reasons?" Kennedy asked, having a bad feeling.

"Not exactly," Dawn lied. "It's just… I think he still likes me 'cause we still kiss and stuff, and he came to the party with me tonight and was the perfect date, right up until he disappeared for half an hour and I found him on the bed with you anyway."

"Dawn." Kennedy rolled her eyes.

"I know you weren't doing anything!" Dawn insisted strongly. "I didn't even really think it at the time, but… I guess I was jealous, because he was with you and not me. I do realise how pathetic that sounds, trust me, but I couldn't help it."

"It's okay."

They were only a few minutes from the house now; it was going to come into view once they got past the next tree. She didn't want to desert Dawn, but she needed to wrap this up fast because as soon as they hit the front door she was heading off to find Willow.

"You want my honest thoughts?" she asked.

"Yeah," Dawn nodded nervously.

Kennedy took a deep breath. "The slower Reece wants to take it, the better for you. I know you like him a lot, and maybe that's because he's showing you a side of him he isn't bothering to show the rest of us. Who knows? Before tonight I thought he was a waste of space, but now… now I just think he's got some of his priorities really wrong, you included. Maybe he'll fix that, maybe he won't, but if you want my advice…" Kennedy took another deep breath, knowing Buffy would probably kick her ass for what she was about to say next. "He's a hottie, if you like that sort of thing, and you guys seem to have fun together. So enjoy it while it lasts, but don't go planning your wedding or, you know, your six month anniversary."

Dawn fell quiet and the house came into view. Kennedy could see lights on in the living room, Giles bedroom and Xander's bedroom upstairs. She wondered if Willow was still up, and if so, what room she was in.

What did Willow think about her being out so late? Was she pissed off? Had she gone to sleep already and didn't even know she wasn't back yet? Or had she not even come back yet herself? It had seemed like a good idea earlier to go out before Willow got home, now Kennedy wasn't so sure.

"Do you really think we're that doomed?" Dawn suddenly asked as they walked towards the porch.

Kennedy thought about ignoring the question and just sprinting for the house. She had her own problems to deal with right now, but with a sigh, she answered.

"I think considering what you've told me, he's either got a lot of respect for you and wants to build something that lasts, or… he's a player, and right now he's just keeping you sweet to keep you on tap."

Dawn gasped at her blunt words.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Kennedy said sincerely.

"I know," Dawn whispered. "So which do you think it is?"

"I already gave you my advice; and if you want to talk more tomorrow, we can, but right now…" Kennedy's sentence petered out with uncharacteristic nervousness.

The front door was a hundred feet away. She unconsciously rolled her shoulders a few times and her fists balled, released, balled, released.

"Willow." Dawn nodded, putting her own problems to one side. "What are you going to do?"

"Whatever it takes," Kennedy replied shortly; her palms were sweating slightly even in the cool night air.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'll fight for her tooth and nail if I have to. I'm not taking this shit lying down anymore. I love Willow and its past time I showed her. And if anyone wants to take her away from me, they're going to shed some blood trying."

"Yay, you." Dawn chuckled. "I'm gonna go to the boy's dorm, make sure Reece and Craig got back okay."

"Yeah, sure," Kennedy grinned at her.

"I am!" Dawn grinned back as she started walking away.

Kennedy smiled, pleased that her and Dawn were in tune again. It had been a lonely couple of weeks without her. Taking yet another deep breath and maintaining her smile, although now it was a lot nervous, she put her hand out to open the front door, ready to go and confront Willow.

"Maybe…" she retracted her hand slowly. "Maybe I should think about what I'm going to say first," she whispered to herself. "I haven't made the best impression recently, as everyone keeps pointing out, and so if this is my last chance, I better make sure I don't blow it by going in unprepared."

She backed down the porch steps, knowing but not acknowledging that there was as much fear as common sense guiding her feet.

"I could take her some flowers too, that would be romantic; and romantic couldn't hurt right now."

She looked around the dark front lawn, but couldn't see any, so slowly, eyes scanning all directions; she walked all the way around to the back garden. And still couldn't see any.

"Okay, I could take her a watering can instead," she said wryly when it was the only object she spotted in the light from the kitchen. "I could say it's like a symbol for the effort I intend to put into our beautiful, flowering love…" She laughed. "I'm gonna have to do better than that."

Now she came to think of it, the metal watering can looked vaguely… familiar? She picked it up for a closer inspection and something clanged in the bottom. Looking through the black hole at the top revealed nothing but thick darkness cloaking whatever was rattling around inside. She went to reach her hand in, but a vivid image of a little purple being leaving teeth marks in her finger curbed that impulse and she swiftly turned the can upside down instead.

A full, capped bottle of beer rolled out and bounced harmless on the grass.

"That looks familiar too," she mused suspiciously, nudging it with her toe before picking it up.

She set the bottle on top of the picnic table and sat on the bench. "So, Willow, where do I start?"

The smell from the ashtray made it hard to give the important question due consideration, so wrinkling her nose she pushed it to the far end of the table away from her. Reece and Faith were only allowed it there if they emptied and rinsed it every night, but obviously no one had bothered yet today, maybe because neither of them were back yet. As she leaned across the table, she swung her legs under the bench and heard a chink-chink noise as something hidden in the dark shadow of the wooden leg fell over.

Reaching her arm down and fumbling in the dark until her fingers touched another ice cold bottle, she picked it up and set it on the table top next to the other one with less and less surprise. She gave them both a long look.

"Was I really that drunk earlier?" She wondered aloud. "Or have I stumbled into someone else's alcoholic treasure hunt?"

Not really caring either way, she forgot about the beers and leaned back on the bench to look up at the moon.

"Willow, Willow on the wall… okay that doesn't even make sense. Willow, the only reason I've been acting this way is because I love… nope, that makes me sound like a wife beater… Hmm, wife? I wonder if… I mean, at least then she'd know how serious I was about her and… Hey, that's a great idea, why don't I mend our crappy relationship by asking her to marry me?" Kennedy's forehead landed on the table top with a soft thunk of despair. "And then what? The next time an ex shows up I pretend I'm pregnant?"

Both bottles nearly toppled but she brought her hands up fast enough to catch them and kept them in her fists as she sat up again. "Does that count as proactive? I'm supposed to be being myself again," she reminded herself. "Playing to my strengths and stuff. So, in this situation, What Would Kennedy Do?" She grinned. "She'd go in there and sweep her off her feet – which I could do literally now – and kiss her so damn good she can't pronounce Osborne's name let alone remember who he is."

Slowly, her grin dropped away and she sighed. "So if that's what I'd do, why can't I just go and do it?"

But she knew why? What if it didn't work? What if she swept as hard as she could and kissed as good as she could and it wasn't enough? Because if that was all she had to offer and it didn't work, well then it was all over, wasn't it?

"Something better then. Something… smart." She lifted a bottle up to eye level. "You got any pearls of wisdom you'd like to share?"

The bottle seemed to say 'Yes! But you have to open me to let them out', or at least, Kennedy was going to pretend it did as she twisted the cap and sipped some slowly.

"Inspiration and Dutch courage all in one handy package; it would be wrong not to take this opportunity, especially as I obviously went to so much trouble to hide them in the first place," she muttered.

Okay, so that was a bogus excuse for staying out in the chilly garden drinking beer, but it was better than admitting that she was terrified that Willow would tell her it was too late, that'd she'd been acting like an jerk for too long, that they were done, over, finished and other words that made the usually self-confident Slayer want to cry like a baby.

"One won't hurt and it might even dull the pain if she tells me to go to hell." Even joking to herself about it hurt and she dropped her sad gaze to the table top. "Oh God, how do I make her not want to do that?"

"Well, it's an out there suggestion, I grant you, but you could start by actually talking to her."

Kennedy looked up to see Xander standing outside the training barn.

"Hey what were you doing in there at this time of night?" she asked, the speed of her voice echoing the fact that's she'd been take by surprise.

"Other than listening to you to talk to yourself?" He smiled, but even in the dark it looked like an effort. "It's a good, well-lit space and I don't have a workshop yet."

Kennedy didn't usually pry into Xander's life, she wasn't much of a pryer in general, but that had been an extremely vague answer for this time of the morning.

"So you're working on something?" she asked. "This late? In your underwear?"

He seemed to realise his undressed state as she mentioned it and covered his chest with his arms. "Uh, not exactly. I was just…"

When he looked stumped for an answer, her eyes narrowed playfully. "Have you been in there reading my Playboys?"

"What? No! No. You have Playboys in there?" Xander looked behind him to the training barn with a hopeful look in his eye. He shook it away as he turned back to her. "Impressionable young minds use that barn!"

"Yeah, straight, impressionable young minds," she replied. "I don't think any of the girls are gonna start having dark fantasies because they come across a magazine full of naked breasts."

"Not even Andrew, Reece and Craig?" Xander asked pointedly, and then after a pause, added, "Or, you know, just Reece?"

"You really think Reece doesn't already have a few Playboys of his own stashed in his little locker?" Kennedy smirked.

Xander shrugged. "You may be right." He walked closer to the bench. "Is it wrong that I hate that guy so much?"

Kennedy shrugged. "Anyway, why are you out here in your underwear?"

"I had to leave the party pretty abruptly. And I think I've just solved the case of the mysteriously disappearing beer." He nodded at the bottle in her hand.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, and, uh, thanks," she said awkwardly, tipping the bottle in her hand towards him. "Next case, my round… or something." She picked up the unopened bottle on the table and held it out to him. "I saved you one."

"Yeah right," he smirked and sat down opposite her as he took the bottle. "So, you were talking about Willow?"

The bottle stopped halfway to her lips. "I was?"

"With yourself." He chuckled as he opened his own beer.

"Oh, yeah." She smiled self-consciously. "I was trying to decide if I'd blown it."

"Do you think you have?"

"I don't know, do you?" she countered.

Xander shrugged. "What would you do if you have?"

Kennedy thought for a second, but she didn't really have to. "Lose it."

"Well, that's an incentive." Xander smiled. "So I take it you're not ready to give up on the Willster?"

"No way," Kennedy said sincerely. "It's just… I've been bad attitude girl a lot recently, and for some reason she's been putting up with it. And I can't help wondering if maybe she's already broken up with me in her head, but just can't be bothered to do it in real life. Maybe she thinks I've already drifted off so far that she doesn't need to say the actual words and we're only still sharing a bed because I've been too stupid to move out of it yet."

"Nah." Xander shook his head. "Willow's a lot of great things, but subtle isn't one of them right now," he finished a little bitterly.

"So you think if she wanted me gone, I'd be gone?" she asked.

"I do." He nodded. "But that doesn't mean Bad Attitude Girl hasn't hurt her. A lot."

"I know," she muttered, looking at her beer. When she looked him in the eye again she felt a little defiant "But I've only been acting this way because she hurt me!"

"I get that," he said emphatically. "But… are you ready to put it behind you?"

She looked down at the table top as she argued with herself. Yes she was, no she wasn't. She was still hurt; there were still things she didn't understand, but it all boiled down to one thing in the end.

"I don't know what it is yet, but if there is something I can do to make things right, I'll do it. Because…" She met his eye steadily "…because I love her.

Xander's tense expression relaxed into a sincere smile. "Well then, why don't we talk it out while you finish your drink? And then you can go in and wow her with your multitude of reasons for staying together."

"Sure you wanna listen to my shit?" Kennedy asked doubtfully, but with hope in her voice.

"Always," he promised, his smile even stronger as he tapped the neck of his bottle against her's.

Kennedy smirked. "Okay, well, you asked for it…"