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"Hey."

The soft voice from the doorway made Willow spin around, which in turn made her go dizzy and she sat down on the edge of the bed heavily. She fought the urge to put her head between her knees because all of a sudden she had company.

"Oz?"

It wasn't so much a greeting as a check that she wasn't hallucinating her ex standing at the threshold of her gloomy, slightly musty, sick room. At least the dim light from the overcast day and drawn curtains was hiding the pale green tinge that had started seeping into her skin.

"I heard you weren't feeling well. Can I come in?"

Willow looked down at her well-worn Winnie-the-Pooh and Tigger too nightdress with a sigh. It was designed more for comfy than for company, but it had taken too much energy to get changed into it just to turn around and get changed back out of it again.

"I guess so; just… ah… give me a sec." She lifted up her sheets, slipped beneath them and then pulled the bedcovers up to her chin. "Okay, you can come in now."

"Cold?" He asked, coming to the edge of the bed.

"No," she smiled bashfully. "Just in my nightie. And, you know, not so much used to having boys seeing me in my nightie these days."

"Not even Xander or… what's the blond's name that shares his room?"

"Andrew; and they don't really count, not like you do anyway."

"Okay," he seemed to like that answer.

She grinned and then realised that must have sounded less like she was used to them being around and more like she had some kind of crush on him. For a moment she faltered for something to say and then settled on,

"Why don't you sit down?"

She followed his gaze to the spot on the bed next to her and then pulled an alarmed face. Gee, now he probably thought she was getting all seducey. Hey, sit close to me; let me allure you with my cartoon nightshirt, greasy hair and pea-soup skin! She turned abruptly on the bed, making the room spin again, and pointed to the chair Xander had left by the bed.

"Sit there, I mean. I mean, that looks like a nice place to sit – sturdy, good, straight back which is good for… for having a… a good, straight back."

She winced at herself even as she was speaking and by the time she'd finished babbling he was in the chair.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his face the picture of boyfriendly concern.

"No! For all I know I have the mystical reincarnation of the bubonic plague and I need a shower and you're sitting there all… Did you bring me grapes?"

"Sort of. It was more of a joint venture." He smiled, handing them over. "Xander gave them too me to bring up."

She wondered if she was hungry yet. With the ever-present nausea it was hard to tell, but she hadn't eaten since the night before. She plucked a grape from the stem and popped it into her mouth. The juice was delicious even if she wasn't hungry.

She saw Oz's eyes slide away from her to the edge of her headboard.

"What?"

He jerked his eyes away again fast, his face even more expressionless than usual. "Nothing."

Puzzled, she twisted awkwardly around on her pillows to look and her eyes went wide as she realised what he'd spotted.

"Oh, no, no." She shook her head hard, embarrassment making her dizzy. "They're not what you think."

He took another look. "So they're not furry black handcuffs?"

She was feeling too ill for this.

"Furry, black handcuffs, yes. But not because I've been naughty in either a sexy or an 'arrest her officer' way, but to stop me from being naughty in the future."

"Sexy naughty or 'arrest her officer' naughty?" he asked, picking a grape from the bunch for himself as he regarded her with bright, alert eyes.

"'Zap my nearest and dearest with my sudden magical death ray capabilities' naughty." She pulled out the other set that she had stashed under her pillow at Oz's interruption and then forgotten about, and showed them to him. "These wouldn't hold me if I actively wanted to get out of them, but I figured, if my magic just started firing willy-nilly these might, I don't know, restrain direct attacks a little?"

She twirled the closed wrist loop around her finger a couple of times, watching it, and then twisted to attach them to the other side of the headboard.

"Might stop me from teleporting myself to 1940's Europe or worse anyway."

"I didn't know you had magical death ray capabilities."

"I didn't know I could teleport just be sneezing." She shrugged and settled back on the pillows again. "Giles thinks the virus is re-wiring my hard drive."

"So it's making your magic unpredictable?"

"With a capital P, or actually U, but yeah. So I'm going to chain myself to the bed until Giles finds me a cure."

Oz flicked the one closest to him with his finger. "With furry black novelty handcuffs?"

Willow blushed deeply. They were all she'd had in the room. Bought with Kennedy, more as a joke than with any actual plans to use them, from an adult store in LA.

She had a vivid memory of the two of them, giggling inappropriately and earning disapproving looks from the middle-aged man behind the cash register as they browsed racks of cock rings, butt plugs and nipple clamps one boring Wednesday afternoon.

They had still been so new then, still getting know each other. That afternoon had been like only their third proper date. She'd been slightly appalled at the idea when Kennedy dragged her off the street and through the unmarked door to a world of wonder beyond, but her natural curiosity had soon won out.

"There are shackles and stuff in the training room but asking for them would have worried everyone."

"Buffy and Xander are already worried."

"Worried for me, maybe, not worried what I might do to them."

Things were strained enough. Her best friends were barely even her best friends now as it was.

"Letting them know I might be capable of frying them in their slippers would just add unnecessary tension."

"So you don't think they might ask questions about the furry handcuffs?" Oz smiled.

Willow looked at the grapes instead of him. "If you have a better idea."

"Talk to them."

"Is that you're answer for everything these days?"

"It's not a bad one."

That was true, but he didn't understand it wasn't an option. Getting off the topic of handcuffs and reasons for them was probably the best idea.

"So how come you stopped by?"

"I was worried. I thought you were avoiding my calls."

"We have no house phone. I didn't know you'd been calling."

"Yeah, I saw the problem downstairs."

"So was there another reason?"

Oz hesitated. "I can go if you like."

Willow looked at him again. "No, I didn't mean that. Just… sorry, I seem to be really tetchy today."

"Understandable."

"Perhaps… but you being here is good. It's nice you care enough to be here."

More than anyone else bothers to do, she added in her head, and then felt bad, but not that bad, because she would be here alone if it wasn't for Oz.

"We could talk about something else?"

She nodded gratefully. "Have you found any more closet Werewolves?"

"One. I haven't approached him yet though."

"Why not?"

"I've been waiting for you. We work well as a team."

She wasn't so sure about that. Not that they didn't work well as a team, but the werewolf-approaching business wasn't really a team endeavour. Oz approached them, Oz spoke to them and Oz helped them plan their 'after care'. She really just went along for the ride, as a representative of the Council of Watchers, because that leant his authority some official weight.

"Maybe you should do this one alone. Just in case I can't leave here for a while."

"I'm not sure I can pull it off alone."

"You could take Buffy. Or Xander. He needs the morale boost."

Oz didn't look happy with either suggestion, although he pretended to think it over.

"You're better with people."

"Better than Xander?"

"Xander's good, but…" Oz took her hand, his pale blue eyes gazing earnestly into hers. "It can wait until you feel up to it."

She smiled at him, the warmth of his attention striking out the nausea she was feeling. Curling her hand around his, she lay back on her pillows again. This was nice. Holding hands was nice. It had been a little while.

She felt way too oogy to feel any kind of romantic stirrings, but just having someone, no, not just anyone, Oz, want to sit this close, hold her hand and make her feel special… that was nice.

"Okay. Maybe I'll feel better sooner than I think anyway."

"I hope so."

They chatted companionably for a while, mostly about their shared past, which seemed like kinda dangerous territory to Willow at first, opening cans of worms that could wriggle into places she didn't want them, but after the first few funny memories she relaxed right into it and concentrated on not looking too green or woosy instead.

It was harmless anyway, she kept reminding herself. Oz hadn't made any moves on her, despite Kennedy and Xander both thinking he'd jump at the first chance to, so maybe they were wrong after all. And besides, wasn't she a free agent now? Wasn't that what Kennedy had wanted? Even if she did feel some inkling of desire for Oz, it wouldn't be wrong now she was single. Weird, maybe, but not wrong.

So she kept her hand in his and laughed as often as she could – because didn't they say laughter was the best medicine – and did her best not to wish it was Kennedy here making her feel better instead.

She had come purposefully up the backstairs, but as soon as Kennedy heard their voices in her bedroom, she realised it had all been an act. She wished it wasn't, but wishing wasn't making her storm into the room like she wanted to.

She lingered in the corridor. Not too close to the bedroom door, but then she didn't need to now with her super-hearing. They seemed to be getting on like a house on fire, although she mused, hopefully not literally because one fire per bedroom a year was more than enough. Willow didn't even sound sick! Every now and again her voice seemed to get a little fainter, but it always came back strong again the next time she gushed about some past little deed they'd gotten up to when Oz had been a Scooby.

That pissed her off. She wasn't even considered one of the inner circle and she was a slayer! Not that she wanted to be a Scooby, she wasn't into that kind of childish little club name thing, but knowing Osborne had been found worthy of entry into their stupid clique and she wasn't… yeah, that made her blood boil a bit. Okay, a lot.

They just… in there… sounded so close! Like the years they'd been apart – even the Tara years! – had never happened.

She could go in there and chuck the calabaza at his head just for the sake of it, just to let off some steam, but she couldn't seem to stop listening to them long enough to do it. Even though every word, every giggle, tore at her heart.

Maybe Willow was just being nice though, polite because she felt too sick not to be. It was a slim hope, but it was all Kennedy had and, as pathetic as it might be, she was gonna cling to it. Because maybe if she did walk in there, but less aggressively than she'd planned, and was actually nice herself, maybe Willow would compare and contrast and see what she was missing.

It would be painful to do it, actually it might be almost impossible, but if it got her back into Willow's good books? That was a start, wasn't it? And if Will was just being nice because she wasn't feeling well, she'd surely be able to tell and that might calm some of this churning inside of her.

But what if Willow wasn't just being nice and what if Kennedy could tell? Polite and sociable might take the back burner fast and if Willow really was as sick as Buffy and Xander had made out, having another Werewolf/Slayer fight right in her bedroom might make her worse… it sure as hell wouldn't make her better!

She was still deliberating when she heard footstep coming from the front stairs. Not wanting to be caught loitering outside Willow's room like a stalker by anyone, she ducked into Xander's bedroom. Leaving the door open, she stood just out of sight from the corridor, and waited for whomever it was to get to where they were going.

As it turned out it was Giles and the destination was Willow's room. She heard his voice loud and clear after he'd knocked quietly.

"Oh, hello, Oz. I wasn't aware you were coming here today." Giles greeted him as he entered.

He wasn't sure it was a good idea, either. Willow needed proper bed rest and preferably a certain amount of isolation. Proper bed rest meant no preventable excitations and no over-doing it by pretending to feel better than she was.

He didn't want to admit it to Willow, he didn't want to admit it to anyone, but he was rather worried about Willow's predicament and the more he researched, the more concerned he became.

He knew there had to be an answer, but he was no closer to finding one than he had been last night and the more time went by… well, the isolation wasn't just for Willow's benefit.

"It was spur of the moment," Oz said, while Willow beamed quietly by. "I'm glad I came though. I didn't realise Willow was sick until I got here."

"Well, we're working on that," he promised.

"Do you have anything yet?" There was more than a hint of desperation in Willow's words despite her cheerful smile.

"A few options," he lied. "I'll let you know as soon as I have something concrete. I just wanted to see how you were feeling?"

"Better. Oz is helping."

"Well, that's good."

He paused and filled his silence by checking her pulse – still good and strong, if anything perhaps a little too strong, but he wasn't going to count that as a bad thing just now – and feeling her brow. It was still a little clammy and her skin was taking on the palest of green tints. Not wanting to worry her, he didn't mention it.

"Perhaps not make the visit too long, though. You should try to sleep as much as you can today."

"But I slept all night!"

"I know, but you're body and mind needs as much rest as possible to combat the affects of the… the runaway magick, as it were. You have the best defence inside of you but you need to give it the opportunity to work."

"Really? So all I have to do is sleep lots and this thing will go away?" Willow asked sceptically.

"Not exactly," Giles hedged, "but it can't hurt."

"I should probably go then." Oz stood up. "I've been here a while already. But I'll come by tomorrow if that's okay."

"But tomorrows Thanksgiving," Willow reminded him, not letting go of his hand.

"That's okay. Ralph and I were just going to split a turkey anyway."

Giles had a vague memory of a conversation overheard that Ralph was Oz's dog. He smiled slightly at the thought of a bond between werewolf and dog, but then realised he didn't like the idea of Oz – who only a few years ago had been such an integral part of their little family – dining with just his dog for company on such an occasion.

Aware that Buffy probably wouldn't thank him for the extra work, he felt compelled to ask anyway.

"Why don't you join us for dinner tomorrow, Oz? Buffy's cooking and I'm sure Willow would love to have you."

"I… ah…" Willow stuttered an answer. "I mean, uh, yeah, but… won't I still be on bed rest?"

"We'll have to see how you feel, but I'm hoping we'll have you cured by then."

He smiled, expecting her to too, but she did not. He was about to ask what was wrong, but it soon became apparent he had made a faux pas of some kind.

"That'd be cool." Oz smiled, looking very grateful for the invite. "As long as it's okay with Willow?"

As he turned to her, Willow's smile blinked on as bright as a light bulb. "Oh, uh, sure. That'd be… uh, neat. As long as I'm up to it. Not that you can't come even if I'm not, but… but, well, hopefully I will be and that'll be…" She gave him another big smile. "You should bring Ralph! Yep. You and Ralph coming for Thanksgiving."

As Oz turned to check that was okay with him, only Giles saw Willow grimace – and not from the sickness, he imagined.

He assured Oz that Ralph would be as welcome as he. "So, you'll come tomorrow. That will be nice," he reiterated, hoping anxiously he hadn't just caused Willow far more excitation that she could handle.

Kennedy, still just inside Xander's bedroom door, ran a hand through her hair in dismay.

Not only was Willow more than happy to have Oz there with her right now, she also really wanted him to come to Thanksgiving tomorrow. How much did that suck? In fact, how dare she? Thanksgiving was her thing! Okay technically it was Buffy's, but she'd been the first one on board with it! Willow hadn't even wanted to do the big meal thing! And now she was inviting the one person she knew Kennedy couldn't stand to be around.

Okay, technically it had been Giles that had invited him, but Giles didn't know! Giles was pretty cool but he was completely clueless at what went on below Slaydar. At least, he acted it. Sure Willow had once mentioned he'd cottoned on to Buffy and Faith before she had, but that was one instance and that was concerning his Slayer. Everyone else could be having naked orgies over the picnic table and he'd be too deep in his books to notice.

So he could be excused for inviting Oz, but Willow couldn't be excused for agreeing to it! Obviously she didn't care one iota for her feelings or else she would have made up some excuse. She had the perfect one already, didn't she?

Yeah, she had mentioned she might feel too poorly to attend herself, but she'd sounded disappointed about it, and more importantly she'd told him he could still come anyway! What was that about?

Not able to stand there and stew about it anymore she left the bedroom. Giles and Oz were just coming out of Willow's – her – room, but she didn't acknowledge them as she headed straight for the back stairs.

Buffy was still in the kitchen, still at the stove. Xander had gone, but Goorzar was sitting where he had been, playing with the oily bits of newspaper he'd left on the table. She felt annoyed about that for a second, but Xander was one of the few people on her side, so she let it go with a sigh, set the calabaza she still carried onto the counter again and went to clear the paper away herself.

"How'd it go?" Buffy hadn't turned around; she must have recognised her sigh.

"It didn't."

"Splainy?"

"Huh?"

Kennedy looked up irritably from scrunching the newspaper into a ball. The oil was getting all over her hands now and she could already see it matting Goorzie's paws. That was going to be fun to remove.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. I didn't go in."

"Good."

"No, opposite of good!" she snapped. "I hate being a wuss!"

Buffy chuckled and Kennedy shot her a dirty look that was lost on her back. She dropped the paper into the trash and then looked under the sink for the best thing to remove oil from baby demon paws.

"I could hear them being all cosy together and… it made me want to hurl! Figured going in there just to throw up wouldn't really help me."

"You're probably right. Have one of Xander's yams. They're actually pretty good, even if I do say so myself."

Kennedy straightened up and looked at the dish on the counter. The long, slightly orangey veg looked surprisingly appetising – she'd been led to believe that even Buffy's cereal ended up burnt.

"I would, but thanks to Xan, my hands are oily."

Buffy turned around and grabbed a glass of milk from the breakfast counter.

"This one time, Faith and I shared a plate of hot ribs right after slaying a Gwizzarni Demon."

"What's a Gwizzarni Demon?"

"Once it's slayed… pretty much just blue goop and gristly bits. Point being, a little oil and newsprint won't kill you."

She handed over a clean fork and Kennedy took it, slicing off a piece of yam. She stuck it in her mouth and chewed. It didn't taste like she was expecting, sweeter maybe; not bad.

"Good times, huh?" she mocked with her mouthful.

Buffy sighed with a smile on her face. "We had a few… well, one or two anyway. Wasn't all knife fights and poisonings."

Kennedy finished the yam and set the fork in the dish. "Any idea what gets oil out of hair?"

"How did you get in it your hair?"

"Not mine, Goorzie's." Kennedy pointed at her blacker than usual paws.

They called them paws because she wasn't technically anything like a human, but really the four fingers and opposable thumb resembled hands more. Still, paws made everyone except her and Andrew more comfortable so that was what they were. Big, hairy, hand-shaped paws. Right now, absolutely coated in thick, greasy engine oil.

"Why did Xander let her play in it?"

"He left in kind of a hurry," Buffy said, turning back to the stove again. "We had a little confab about you going up to see Will."

"Not a good one I take it."

She went back to the table with a bunch of kitchen roll and caught Goorzar's wrists on the third attempt. There were already black hand prints all over the table top, but that wasn't her problem.

"Oh, it was good, not nice, but good, lots of big, emphatic words and stuff."

"Sorry."

"It's nothing to worry about," Buffy promised.

She seemed to be dithering with stuff around the stove rather than doing anything in particular. Kennedy waited to see if she added anything, when she didn't she decided to try and take her mind off of it instead.

"So, Giles asked Oz to Thanksgiving."

"What?" Buffy turned to her again abruptly. "Since when? That's not…?"

She didn't sound pissed off, just surprised, which kind of pissed Kennedy off, but she tried not to let on.

"Upstairs. I was… eavesdropping." She smiled a little. "He said him and his mutt were sharing a turkey and I guess Giles was a little grossed out at the idea of them ripping apart a live turkey between them, so he invited him just to save the bird."

Buffy huffed out a little laugh. "Well, that is a gross image, so thanks for that, but maybe it was more because Giles likes Oz and didn't want to see him eat alone on Thanksgiving?"

Kennedy frowned and started wiping Goorzar's paws with the tissue. "I thought he liked me too."

"He does."

Buffy noticed the calabaza back on the counter. "Hey, I have a spare again! I can practice now. Ya know, I'd never have found these in Boudenver, but Xan and I went into Cleveland last night. It's amazing what you can find at Wal-Mart. I can't believe Sunnydale never had one. So now you just have to talk me through it."

Kennedy frowned. "What if it all goes wrong?"

"That's why they call it a spare."

"Okay." Kennedy lifted Goorzar from the seat and sat her on the table so she could take the chair and still wipe at her paws. "Cut it into, what… seven pieces now?"

She watched as Buffy did so.

"Do I deseed it?"

"Yeah and cut off the rind. Ya know, the thing that really bothers me isn't that he came to see her."

"Then what is it?" Buffy asked as she carefully went about preparing the calabaza.

"Well, obviously, it's that she's so happy to see him!"

Buffy got a mixing bowl from one of the bottom cupboards and started pouring the spices specified on Kennedy's recipe card into it. She sounded distracted but genuine as she said, "Was she? Sorry."

"It's not your fault. It's not even hers! It's mine. If I hadn't made it so easy to walk away, he wouldn't have been so easy to walk to."

"She didn't walk to him. He came by surprise and she's kind of a captive audience up there."

"That's what I hoped, but she sounded pretty happy."

She carried a mildly squealing demon over to the sink and squirted liquid detergent all over her paws. Luckily Goorzar liked the sink so didn't put up much of a fight once she could sit in it. Just as well, because already she was getting hard for even Kennedy to keep hold of when she wasn't happy.

She was double the size she had been when they'd found her, which wasn't saying a whole lot considering how small she had been then, but her strength had doubled too. To say she was a handful now was underestimating it. Right now, though, she sat happily in the sink and tried to play with the bubbles Kennedy was scrubbing into her paws.

"Maybe it was the fever talking," Buffy suggested.

"She didn't sound all that feverish."

"Then maybe you just need to talk to her."

Kennedy frowned at her tone. "If I'm starting to bore you with this…"

Buffy looked up, guiltily. "You're not, I promise. But Willow's in trouble, of the serious health kind, making this not a time for me and Xander to be at odds. And your deal with Oz is kind of putting pressure on us from all sides."

Kennedy looked down at Goorzie and her soap bubbles. Half feeling guilty and half feeling that familiar jealous, pissed off feeling.

"I'm not trying to rag on you," Buffy promised. "I totally get where you are coming from. But Willow's sick and we all need to just put everything else aside until she's better, okay?"

Kennedy made a barely audible dissatisfied sound as she looked away, knowing Buffy was right. Willow was all that mattered. Even if they never resolved their differences, she still couldn't stand the idea of anything bad happening to her. So Buffy had a point, she should be as mellow as she could be about the whole sitch, at least until Willow was out of the woods… after that… well, after that, Osborne was more than fair game again. She could wait. She hoped.

Avoiding Buffy's earnest gaze meant she was looking out of the window, and so she saw Faith walked towards the back door. With slightly teenage glee she wondered if Buffy could keep to the 'Willow's health is the only thing that matters' mantra once Faith was in the room with them. If she could, fair enough. If she couldn't, Kennedy would feel at least a little vindicated.

Buffy was putting the calabaza chunks into a saucepan to rinse them.

Kennedy, pretending she hadn't seen Faith about to enter, said casually, "You need to coat them in the spices and then roast them straight away for twenty minutes. You can't leave them though, cause they might burn."

"Okay."

Buffy had to squeeze past Goorzar to fill the pan with water. The demon kept batting at the pot and Kennedy had her work cut out stopping her from dunking her hands in it as it was filled.

Faith entered as the three of them were having a mini-battle with the saucepan.

"Looks like fun. Can I join?"

Kennedy noted Buffy's head shooting up, but she kept her own focused on the game.

"I, ah… not so much fun actually. You can take my place if you like."

Buffy pointed at the saucepan just as Kennedy got Goorzar to let go of it. The pan pinged upwards and shot cold water and calabaza all over the front of Buffy.

Buffy gasped and went on tiptoes and was the only one in the kitchen who didn't burst into laughter – even Goorzar started hiccupping loudly.

Buffy remained on tiptoes, too shocked by the cold water all over her face and chest to even complain at first. Kennedy decided to get while the going was good and scooped Goorzar out of the sink.

"I'm going to ask Xander what gets oil out of demon hair." With that she bolted past Faith and out the back door, Goorzar squealing in her arms.

Buffy finally let her heels touch the kitchen floor again. "That was bracing."

"Not really the time of year for water fights," Faith agreed, grinning.

Buffy started picking the squash from the floor. "Could you get me…?"

"A towel?"

"Just some kitchen roll will do." Buffy straightened up, smiling herself, as she ran the faucet into the pan, washing off the calabaza.

She tried not to focus too closely on Faith as she moved around the kitchen. Her hair was kinda glittery under the kitchen lights – pretty ­­– and it took Buffy a moment to realise it was just raindrops.

"I thought you were working inside today?"

"I am, why?"

"You're wet."

"Not as wet as you." Faith smirked as she handed her the tissue. She ran a hand over her damp hair. "I had to go outside to get to here."

"Oh, right." Buffy wiped her face. "Of course."

"Xander hasn't dug the service tunnels yet."

Faith was still standing close, leaning against the sink as she peered into the saucepan. It was distracting.

"Well he's got a lot to do. I'm sure he'll get around to it. Wait, he's digging tunnels?"

Faith laughed softly. "No, but we'll probably wish he had once it starts snowing."

"It's going to snow." Buffy looked excitedly out of the window.

She'd only experienced snow twice in her life. Once when her Mom and Dad had taken her ski-ing and again in Sunnydale that Christmas day she'd gotten back together with Angel. They'd both been pleasant experiences and maybe some snow now was what they needed to cheer everyone up.

"Probably not today," Faith said, poking a slice of calabaza. "Doubt we'll have to wait much longer for it though."

Buffy looked from the window to Faith. She was still only a foot away.

"I should probably get this in the oven."

"Don't let me slow you down." Faith gestured towards it. "You do know Thanksgiving is tomorrow, though, right?"

"Yep. This is just a practice run."

Buffy dropped her damp chunks of squash into her bowl of mixed spices and tumbled them around in there for a while. Faith was still leaning against the sink, watching her.

"Did you come in here for a cooking lesson or did you want to talk?"

"What? Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." Faith pushed away from the sink uncomfortably.

"Because if it was to talk I'll be done with this in just a sec," Buffy went on over the top of her, trying to make up for the abruptness of her question. It had been nerves, but Faith had obviously taken it negatively.

Faith seemed to hesitate then. "I was actually just passing through. Xan said Willow's sick. I was gonna go say Hey in my lunch break."

"Oh. Okay"

Buffy couldn't really argue with that, but it would have been nice if Faith had wanted to spend some of her lunch break with her for once.

With that in mind, as she bent down to put the baking pan of calabaza into the oven, she added. "Just tell me what time you wanna tell me about you're session yesterday and I'll make sure I'm free."

Faith stopped halfway across the kitchen. "How d'you…?"

Buffy straightened up, but didn't look at her. "Xander let it slip after you'd gone last night. I was gonna come after you but I wasn't sure which direction you were heading in."

"You've known where I've been all morning."

"I've been busy."

"Cooking?" Faith asked, unimpressed.

"Worrying about Willow!"

"Well, now I'm worrying about Willow."

"So when are you going to…" She began impatiently as she turned around. Faith was already going up the stairs. "For heaven sake!" She slammed the oven door shut.

Tbc...