Things were going from bad to worse. And at a much more accelerated rate than even Buffy had become accustomed to.

She was still badly shaken from her blow-up at Willow, regardless of the optimistic outcome. She could feel bags under her eyes. Grease in her hair. Everything endlessly wearing her down until it felt like there was barely anything left. So much so that the dream and the confrontation with Halfrek merged together. Events were blurring into one another on a miserable, soul-sucking carousel.

She'd caught her hand twice on the grill, both times causing fat blisters to erupt almost instantaneously. On her break she'd chugged a fourth polystyrene cup of coffee like a shot, burning her tongue and the back of her throat, but the lethargy just wouldn't lift.

A headache from bad sleep and too much coffee was pounding in her frontal lobe.

And Todd just wouldn't shut up.

"You're not taking the pulse of the public," he lectured enthusiastically to no one in particular, obviously in love with the sound of his own voice, more so even the topic. "The next thing you know you're LBJ handing the house keys over to Nixon." He turned to Buffy as she swore under her breath, a third blister flowering on her knuckle. "Heard back from your college yet?"

"Yeah." Buffy huffed, not wanting to get into the stinging rejection letter that had been slotted in with the bills that morning. Especially not with Todd, Mr. Super-Smug-MBA-Douchebagger. But again her mouth moved on its own, twisting her Yeah into a sour "I got rejected. The cut-off date for applications was January 15th and I was dead at the time."

Buffy jerked, the spatula in her hand bending in half from the sudden clench of her hand. What?!

Todd blinked, confused. "You were-?" the buzzer clanged over the grill and the question disappeared from Todd's face. "That's your turn on the register upfront." He said and turned back to burger construction.

Buffy blinked several times, skirting the fryer and the heating station in a daze, still holding the right-angled spatula in her hand. I'm just tired. I had a wiggy dream and I just… need to sleep.

She drifted up to the counter, adjusting her cow-and-chicken hat with her free hand as she made her way to the free register.

"Hi… uh… what can I get you?" she asked with attempted pep to the first customer in the queue.

The man waiting lowered his gaze down from the menu board. "Um yeah, what's in the fisherman's nuggets with cheese?" he asked, adjusting his arm slung around a bored-looking woman chewing gum.

"Um," Buffy said.

He raised his eyebrow and she swallowed. She could feel it. She could feel words bubbling up in her mouth. Unstoppable and twisting out of her control. "Um… It's a…" She shut her eyes. Oh no. "It's a… vegetable matter and fermented fungus slurry."

Oh crap.

The woman's eyebrows raised, eyes widening as her boyfriend's face suffused with a look of revulsion. "No way, really?!"

Buffy could feel every employee's gaze suddenly on the back of her neck. Some moving out of the way hurriedly like her inevitable doom might be contagious. She turned her head, catching the cold draft rolling off the manager.

I'm dead.

I'm so dead. Again. Maybe third time's the charm…

"Buffy. A word please," he said. And there-in sealed her fate.

He's totally gonna make me buy a new spatula…

Fired?!

Pitifully she slumped down on the pavement outside the Doublemeat, running a hand through her hair to rid it of the cow-hat shape.

How can I be fired?! Again with the fired?!

Oh God, what am I gonna do now? What am I gonna tell Dawn!?

"And how are we doing today?"

Buffy yelped at Halfrek's sudden appearance, swallowing her shock as she raised her head with a scowl. Delicate human features smiled benevolently down at her this time. No veins decorated her skin, but the eyes still held far too much malevolent glee for Buffy to feel comfortable with looking into them

"It wasn't a dream, was it?" she asked with an exhausted groan. "You cursed me, didn't you?"

"I granted a wish, don't be rude." Halfrek scolded. Buffy glared up at her. "Alright, fine, just a teeny tiny curse. And for your own good, by the way. Skooch."

She waved at Buffy to make room for her on the sidewalk as if there wasn't an entire street for her to sit on, and Buffy slid over an inch with an angry shuffle.

"So what, I can only speak in truths now? Do you have any idea how difficult that's going to make my life?!" Buffy bit out, aggravated by all of it but especially at how immaculate Halfrek looked. Beautifully curled hair framed her face, a tasteful skirt and sweater hugged her curves, and polished patent heels on her feet, elegantly crossed at the ankle. Buffy looked down at her own attire sourly. She'd hurriedly donned the spare clothes in her locker. Creased jeans. Wrinkled blouse. At least mercifully cow-and-chicken-hat bereft, but by no means a match to Halfrek's spotless ensemble. And, God, was that a mustard stain on her collar?

"I think we can both agree you were making it plenty difficult all by yourself without my… shall say gentle encouragement? A bit of honesty goes a long way."

"Undo it," Buffy growled, but Halfrek only smiled pleasantly.

"No," she said with a mean-spirited smirk. "But don't worry, it's not permanent. Tell the people in your life how you really feel, what's really going on in there-" she pointed to Buffy's heart and Buffy flinched, "-and you can lie to your heart's content again."

"All the-?" Buffy blinked in panic. "Who counts as 'in my life', here?"

"Oh, now, you know the answer to that, Buffy." Halfrek admonished almost good-naturedly. "Anyways, enough chit-chat. Must dash."

"Wait!" Buffy shouted, but with a flourish of her wrist, Halfrek was gone as suddenly as she'd appeared.