Buffy sat cross-legged on her bed, turning the phone over in her hand. It didn't have a dial tone—Halfrek had made it clear that this call wouldn't be recorded on her bill's statement and as such the line didn't crackle—it just waited dully for her.

She turned the postcard over in her hand. It was a poorly produced photograph of a lake. The Lake District was printed on the bottom in blocky uninviting text. The other side held a brief note from Giles, wishing her well, and instructing her that should she need him she could contact him at the number below. He was staying at a town in Cumbia—a place called Dalton-in-Furness—as he visited friends in the area.

The name seemed so alien, so separate from Sunnydale, that Buffy's heart tugged at the reminder of the distance between them. The miles and miles and miles apart her and her watcher were now. Both physically and emotionally. A nauseating feeling of abandonment swept over her as she stared at the card. She'd gotten ones like that from her father every so often. Crappy postcards bought for probably 50 cents, with barely a few sentences scrawled on the back. Their presence a thorn in her heart. She hated them. But when they finally stopped the hate shimmered and changed into grief at the loss of them. The end to even that paltry amount of connection.

She bit her lip and dialed the number.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang and rang.

No answer.

She was about to end the call and resign herself to a life of complete and brutal honesty when the ringing stopped and the phone clicked over to an answer machine.

"Oh-" Buffy swallowed. Ok… does this count?... please let this count… "Hi, Giles… it's me. Buffy," she started. "Uh… I don't really know where to begin here. We had a… I had a bit of… I got cursed," she sighed, rolling her eyes at all the times those words had been said, all the ways they'd had to undo another magic knot to get back to the way things were. People weren't supposed to have to do this on practically a weekly basis. "Again," she continued. "Not a hazard of the job this time. And the only way to break it is… well this. So…" she swallowed, and let her brain relinquish control as the curse asserted itself, taking the steering wheel that was her mouth as the rest of her reclined in the back seat.

"You shouldn't have left," she said and felt tears already dripping down her cheeks. "I can't- I can't believe you left. You left all of us, Giles. You left me, and Dawn, and all of us. We needed you and you'd booked a plane ticket before we could even blink. And you're somewhere else with a lake, or by a lake, or in a whole lake-city for all I know but you should be here. How could you think this was the right decision?! How could you be so cowardly?! I haven't been back even a year and you decided that hey, that's plenty, walk on your own. I don't for one second believe you did this so I could be more independent. I think you were just done. Done with all this, and boy do I get that but seriously! How could you do that? How, Giles?! I already had one father walk out on me, I thought that was enough! I thought—stupid me— that even if I didn't have him at least I had you! You made me think I would always have you and then you just LEFT me!" She gulped, feeling like she was just going around and around in miserable, angry circles. "You're missing Xander's wedding! Don't you even care?!" She took a breath in and heard the tears, the wet gasp in her throat and in her nose. Enough tears to fill a whole lake probably. To fill the whole of stupid Dalton-in-Furness. She wiped her sleeve across her face and it came away soaked. "You were the only father most of us had! Don't you understand that?! God, I wish-" she bit herself off, mindful that even if Halfrek had vanished in a puff of smoke she wouldn't ever say those words without forethought ever again. She took a few deep breaths, pushing down some grief until her voice could get back to a less hysterical pitch. "I hope the lakes are worth it," she smirked bitterly at the fact that wasn't a lie. "I really do. I hope Dalton-in-Furness isn't a hellmouth. I hope it's not all rain." She swallowed. "But you shouldn't have left."

She hit the end-call button and wiped her face again. The tears kept slipping down onto her cheeks without her even blinking them out.

A tissue box appeared in front of her, attached to a beautifully manicured hand.

"You know, most people knock," Buffy grumbled as she took the tissue box from Halfrek.

Halfrek nodded as she perched down on the end of the bed, crossing her legs elegantly at the ankle. "Cathartic, no?" she said with a veiny smile and Buffy huffed.

"I guess I do feel a bit less burdened."

"Good," Halfrek smiled with a tight-lipped pinch of her lips.

"So all done? Curse lifted?" Buffy asked as she blew her nose wetly.

"I think you know the answer to that, Buffy," Halfrek replied as she fussed at the hem of her skirt. "Just one more."

Buffy whimpered. One left. "But he's not-," part of my life! she tried to protest but the curse refused the lie. "I don't-" want him to be! Another lie that was blocked before it even made it onto her tongue.

Halfrek raised an eyebrow at her stuttering objections. "No more lies. Not even to yourself," she admonished. "Want me to pop you over there?" she smiled wickedly. "I always enjoy turning up on people that way, gives me a bit of a rush."

Buffy glared at her. "I'd rather walk."