Willow swiftly exited Giles' office, nearly barreling over a pair of young Slayers she didn't recognize in her rush to escape. She muttered an apology and moved quickly down the hall wincing as Xander called out "Hey Will! Wait up!" She grudgingly slowed.

The carpenter jogged up until he was alongside his friend, then matched her pace. Willow looked surprised when she saw Faith had, completely unnoticed, joined them, walking on Willow's other side. She didn't look pleased to be the filling in this Willow sandwich.

"Okay, so we've all had our dose of business," Xander nudged eagerly. "Now spill with the personal. Weren't you an' Kennedy makin' a day of it?"

Willow let out a resigned sigh, giving up any pretense of keeping her private life private. "We were, but... Then Giles called about the spell an' I had to go an'..." She wrinkled up her face. "Things got bad."

"Brat had a hissy, huh?" Faith surmised.

Her expression changing to one of indignant agreement, Willow nodded emphatically. "Exactly! I mean, yeah, this was supposed to- to be a good day for us, a-and it was, but then she had to go and get all upset about the spell! Stuff like this happens, y'know? I-It's not like I can just say 'Gosh, no Giles, you'll just have to face that big apocalyptic evil without me, I've got this PB&J thing goin' on today'." Willow kicked at an invisible rock on the ground in frustration. "I tried to explain it to her, but she just wouldn't listen."

Xander frowned, puzzling over Willow's version of events. "That seems a bit extreme. I mean, Kennedy's been there, she knows what's at stake." He considered Willow before speaking again, taking care to ensure his words were as calm and non-judgmental as possible. "Maybe she's feelin' a little insecure?"

Willow gaped at Xander like he'd just suggested they introduce the sport of 'puppy kicking' into the next Olympics. "Insecure? Kennedy? Xander, Kennedy makes Dennis Rodman look like a shy choir boy."

"When it comes to most stuff, yeah, but... I mean, with certain things..."

Faith rolled her eyes and jumped into the conversation impatiently. "What Xan's failin' to say is, when it comes to you, Brat don't think so straight."

The witch shook her head, still not understanding. Xander rested a hand on Willow's shoulder, pushing her into an empty room and away from the very public halls of Slayer Central. Faith followed, hopping up on a nearby table and watching the events unfold while doing her best to seem completely disinterested.

"Look, Will, maybe Kennedy's actin' insecure because she feels she has a reason to be insecure."

Willow was instantly on the defensive. "Oh, so you're saying this is my fault? So, what, I'm supposed to just turn my back on Slayers disappearing all over the world so we can have a shiny happy lunch?" she demanded, crossing her arms and glaring intently at her friend.

Fighting the urge to back away from the confrontation, Xander continued in a soothing voice. "No, of course not. You're right, this is more important than a picnic. But maybe if she didn't feel like she was constantly gettin' the brush-off for every little thing, when the really big important stuff came knockin' on your door, she wouldn't get so upset about it."

"It's simple," Faith summed up, not flinching in the least under Willow's furious glare. "Either she's a priority or she ain't. If she ain't, then fine, you gotta deal with her temper tantrums. An' if she is, then she needs to know."

"She does know!" Willow burst out, throwing her hands up in frustration. "She knows what she means to me!" Calming, the redhead's expression softened and she glanced worriedly from Faith to Xander. "...doesn't she?"

"Does she?" Xander countered, not unkindly. "Have you told her? Have you shown her?"

Willow's face fell and she stared at her feet. "I...guess I haven't." She gave a quiet, humorless chuckle. "Doesn't really matter what I think I've done, it's what she thinks I've done, huh?"

Smiling, Xander ducked his head to catch Willow's eyes. "So you find her and make her think so too."

"I was gonna suggest a good swift kick in the ass," Faith announced, hopping down from the table top and stretching out her arms, "but I guess that way works too. An' probably less likely to turn ugly."

With a firm, decisive nod, Willow's face became determined. "You guys are right. I've been Absorbo Gal. I'm gonna go find her. Just cuz the day started out all bumpy doesn't mean it has to end that way."

"That's our brave little Wicca," replied Xander encouragingly.

"If either of you guys see her, give me a call?"

Faith shrugged, "Sure."

"Roger. Me see Kennedy, me call Willow."

Willow beamed. "Thanks, guys." She took off at a near-run.

Hanging back in the room, Faith and Xander lingered for a moment.

"Ahh," sighed Xander dramatically, "to be young and in love."

Somewhere between a sneer and a smirk, Faith added, "Yeah, who needs that crap?"

Evening found Buffy sitting at the dinner table. She looked considerably improved from earlier, but also a heck of a lot hungrier as she worked to demolish a bowl of some sort of soup with a hefty helping of bread on the side. Sitting opposite her at the small table was the man she had rescued.

"Well, it's good to see that your appetite doesn't need recuperating," he chuckled, amused at her enthusiasm for dinner. His voice was rich and deep, and rolled pleasantly with a strong Scottish lilt.

Buffy scooped another heaping spoonful of stew and shoveled it into her mouth. "Mm. This is all with the yummy," she managed through one side. "Thanks, Knight."

Knight smiled broadly, half of it disappearing in the depth of his full ginger beard. "I'm glad you like it. Please, feel free to eat as much as you want. It's been so long since I cooked for anyone else, I think my sense of proportion has deteriorated." He looked back at the large pot sitting on his stove. "I might've made enough for two hundred, not just two."

"Since you asked so nice..." Buffy reached for more bread, piling it high on top of the three slices she had already appropriated.

The Slayer noticed that Knight was watching her intently, but paid no attention. He was much larger than her and she was coming close to eating twice as much without showing signs of slowing down. That would be enough to give most people pause.

"So, where are you from?" Knight asked after several moments of silence. He caught the questioning look and clarified. "It's obvious you're not local. From the accent, I'm guessing America?"

Buffy nodded, swallowing the rest of the food in her mouth. "Yup, Sunny California," she said, then paused uncertainly, adding, "And places beyond."

"Interesting. I've never been to America myself," he admitted, with almost a sigh. "One of the things I always intended to do, but..." He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the quaint dwelling, charming in its own way. "It's a quiet life – well, occasional encounters with legendary beasties aside – but I've grown to appreciate it."

Examining Knight's home a little more closely, it did indeed appear fairly rustic. Most things that weren't made of wood were of stone, although it was decorated with elaborate tapestries and other adornments to give it a splash of color. "Yup, it seems perfect. Nice and quiet, plenty of time to reflect, and..." she paused momentarily, searching for something else to say. "...dry flowers and make your own soap and..." Trailing off completely, Buffy gave up. "So no cable, huh?" she asked point blank.

Knight laughed heartily and then gestured towards the door. "No, but there's a pub in town with a telly. Have to watch the Glasgow Rangers, you know." He looked back to Buffy. "When I'm not tanning leather for new clothes and churning my own butter."

Buffy stared at Knight and then slowly turned to the butter on the table with an air of surprise.

"I'm joking," he told her. "It's from the store. Really."

She let out a nervous chuckle. "Oh! Heh, yeah. Not that I really thought..." Buffy sighed and returned to her stew. "Sheltered much?" she grumbled at herself.

"No need to be embarrassed. I have just as many confused stereotypes about your home," Knight assured her. "Unless you do own five Cadillacs and light your cigarettes with hundred dollar bills."

The thought appeared to throw Buffy off her chewing, and she stifled her choke into a polite little cough. "I worked in fast food for about eight months. So very much not with the money burning. Or the smoking. And I'm not allowed near cars."

"So, see?" Knight asked with a friendly shrug. "This is a mutually enriching experience." He watched as she visibly relaxed, regarding her intently for a moment before wiping his face clean of anything but mild interest. "Are you traveling alone?"

The answer was simple enough that Buffy just nodded, although there was the tiniest hesitation involved. Knight pretended not to notice. "That seems rather unsafe. Although I suppose you proved that you can handle yourself. Still," he pondered, "I thought it was a genetic impossibility for young girls to move in anything but a small pack."

"Boy, we're just shatterin' all sorts of stereotypes today, aren't we?" Buffy responded brightly, hoping to shift the conversation away from her solitude.

Knight tipped his head to one side, furrowing his brow slightly as Buffy continued to eat, but allowed her to direct the flow of conversation. He picked up his bowl and went for a refill, ladling a large helping. "What brings you here?" he questioned casually, watching for her reaction out of the corner of his eye. "It must be quite the change from 'Sunny California.' The Sun part, for example."

Buffy shrugged, seeming to not have given it much thought. "Change of scenery. I finally got some time off from...work. And I figured, 'Hey! Why not do something I've never done before?' And here I am."

Turning to wipe some spilled broth from the edge of his bowl with a tea towel, Knight chuckled. "Yes, I suppose skulking around in shadows and fighting supernatural creatures would be a new experience."

Buffy's stifled a cough as she nearly choked on both her food and the irony of the man's comment. As his back was toward her he missed her expression, and by the time he turned back again she had completely recovered. "How about you?" she asked as he returned to the table. "Where did you learn to make such a killer stew?"

"Oh, you live on your own long enough, you start to get creative when cooking," Knight replied, blowing on his spoonful to cool it. "There's only so many times you can convince yourself that hot dogs fall into any of the food groups before you begin to crave genuine nutrition."

"I know some people back home still waiting for that epiphany," Buffy commented with an eye roll. "No Mrs. Knight, then? Or Mr. Knight's Life Partner, which is totally okay—"

Eyes twinkling with laughter, Knight shook his head. "No. Just me, a 'killer stew' and Herne." At Buffy's expected confusion, he pointed his spoon at the stuffed and mounted deer head that was hanging over the fireplace.

Buffy's nose crinkled in an 'eww' expression she wasn't entirely able to hide. "Funny how less charming and atmospheric that sort of thing becomes when you name it."

"I never said I wasn't eccentric," he grinned.

A silence fell between them at that, not entirely comfortable. Knight continued to study Buffy, as though trying to unravel a deep and thoroughly engrossing mystery. For her part, Buffy focused on her stew and tried to look as uninteresting as possible.

"I suppose all of this is boring to someone like yourself," Knight finally said, indicating his home.

"You'd think," Buffy agreed soundly, her eyes widening as she realized how that came across. "Not that it is!" she hurridly backpedaled. "But... I dunno. I think my life could do with some boredom for a while. I feel like this is the first real chance I've had to breathe for about three years."

"Then why do you seem so unhappy?" he asked pointedly, cutting straight to the chase but still smiling kindly.

Buffy started at the directness, instantly shaking her head to refute his words. "What? No, I'm..." Brightening as she thought of it, the Slayer gestured to her shoulder with an exaggerated wave. "Well, hey, giant spider thing turned me into a pincushion. Gotta admit, not exactly my favorite vacation memory."

"No, that's quite understandable," responded Knight with a sage nod. He squinted his eyes a little in mock confusion. "Still, though, if you don't mind my saying so, you seem to be no stranger to pain." Buffy considered this and shrugged slightly, not disagreeing. "And it's odd how you appeared more...content, more alive when you were fighting the Ettercap than you are now, simply sitting and enjoying a peaceful meal with quiet conversation." He stopped and smirked. "Unless of course it's the fact that I'm such a bore. It's hard to judge – Herne never complains."

There was a vigorous head shaking from the blonde. "No, definitely no! You've been great, really, and I don't mean to seem ungrateful. God, you probably saved my life."

"Well, fair's fair."

"It's just... It's weird," Buffy conceded. She paused, staring intently at her half-empty bowl. When she continued, she seemed distant, no longer talking to anybody in particular. "This is... It should be everything I've wanted. I thought it was. Just time to myself, nobody to answer to, nobody to worry about but me. Then I get it, and..." Taking a deep breath, she looked up at Knight. "I don't know. I keep looking. I'm still looking. But if this is..." Her voice dropped lower, but not low enough to mask the frustration. "What do I want?"

Knight stood, gathering the dishes from the table, the meal now forgotten. "That's a question only you can answer, lass," he advised gently. "All I can tell you is to listen to your heart. I've often found that it's much, much smarter than we are."

"Wow," said an impressed Buffy. "Beef stew for the soul."

Music pounded out of the rec room at Slayer Central, a high-energy techno beat that resounded from all walls. A female voice, energetic and upbeat, accompanied the music.

"Sweet little bumble bee, I know what you want from me..."

Accompanying the song was a stomping sound, mostly occurring in sync with the rhythm. It was caused by the unlikely sight of Andrew and Kennedy jumping around on a large platform set in front of a huge arcade game screen. The screen was surrounded by brightly flashing lights, and a series of arrows flew upwards across it in seemingly random patterns.

Andrew was gripping the side rails surrounding the platform with white knuckles, using them for support as his feet pounded arrows on the mat beneath him. His face was a mask of concentration and beads of sweat were trickling down his face. By contrast, Kennedy's arms were crossed behind her back. The Slayer sported a much more casual expression, not even breathing heavily, and she occasionally took her eyes away from the screen entirely to regard Andrew.

"Dup-i-dup-i-do la da, dup-i-dup-i-do la da..."

Despite the frenzied and unending sequence of motion, Kennedy spoke smoothly. "You sure you wanna keep going?" she questioned. "This is only gonna get more embarrassing."

Gasping, Andrew did his best to scoff at her. "Don't... Make me... Laugh!" he managed to get out through sheer force of will. "My natural affinity... For all things gaming... Is more than a match... For your dancing skills!"

"I wanna be with you until the end..."

The Slayer shrugged without missing a beat. "You sound like a low-budget cartoon bad guy. But I'll take that as a yes."

"Yes, indeed... My... Opponent!"

"I give my heart and soul to you to make you see it's true..."

Unnoticed by either player, Nathaniel entered the room. His expression indicated obvious surprise at seeing them, but he made sure to stand back and watch the proceedings without interruption.

Back in the game, a male voice, obviously synthesized, warned Andrew of impending doom. "Danger! Danger!" it blared as the screen flashed red. As if to punctuate the severity of the situation, an occasional skull appeared on the screen.

"Can't say I didn't warn you," Kennedy smirked, her feet still flying.

"Just letting you... Drop your guard..." came the winded reply.

They continued for a few more moments then the song drew to its conclusion. The screen happily declared that while Andrew had not been eliminated, his rating was a mere "E." Kennedy, meanwhile scored an "S."

"Good thing you got my guard down," Kennedy agreed. "I might have done even better."

Andrew waved his fist dramatically and yet pathetically, all the while panting for breath. "Most impressive. You may have won this time, but the day will yet be mine!"

Nathaniel chose this as the appropriate moment to make his presence known. "Nicely done, Kennedy," he congratulated. The Slayer whirled, watching him with surprise as he considered the large arcade game. "Not the most conventional training device, but anything that helps improve coordination can't be bad," he decided.

"What are you doing here, Nate?"

"I work here, you know," replied the Watcher with a wry grin. "Perhaps I should ask, why are you here? I thought this was to be your day with Willow?"

Kennedy scowled as she answered, "Yeah, I thought that too." She caught his inquiring glance and waved her hand. "Long story, don't wanna go into it."

"As it so happens, I was looking for Vi..." Nathaniel continued, deciding to let the matter drop. "Some of our more junior members seem a little... Cooped up, you could say, and I was going to ask her to take them out and do a little field work."

Immediately, Kennedy's expression brightened. "I'll take care of it. I mean, I got nothing else going except this game, and I don't know how much more of Andrew's lame villain acting I can take."

Nathaniel looked pleased. "Well, if it's not an imposition, then splendid. I'll send them over here directly."

He left without further discussion, and Andrew, having regained both his breath and his composure, pointed a determined finger at Kennedy. "Oh, I see how it is! Running away before I can demand a rematch!"

"I promise I'll come back and humiliate you some more real soon," she replied, rolling her eyes as she walked away.

Faith moved around her room slowly, although the casual observer would be unable to tell if it was due to methodic precision or lack of familiarity with her surroundings. The room was mostly empty, containing only a bed, a few adornments on the wall, a single dresser, and a small stereo system that she was currently in the process of connecting to a speaker in the corner.

Wood walked past the open door, then reappeared a moment later in the doorway. He watched Faith's turned back as she worked to connect the speakers, small smile of approval emerging from his face as she bent over to complete the procedure.

"I know you ain't plannin' on sneakin' up on me," she said, not bothering to move.

Wood chuckled. "I think I know a little better." Taking her comment as an invitation, he moved further into the room, looking around. "I gotta say, it's about time you actually moved in."

"Well, been busy, goin' here, there an' everywhere pickin' up Slayers. Now we're pretty much done with the U.S..." she shrugged, fiddling with the arrangement of the equipment. "Not going anywhere, so I figured what the hell, make it a little less, y'know... Spartan." Satisfied with how things were situated, she stepped back to admire her work.

"You're not missing much from Canada, believe me," assured Wood. "Maybe the Council failed to specify the scenic routes, but all I got was a whole lot of cold."

"Ah, you're just tryin' to make me feel better," she replied with a slight grin. "Anyway, I was thinkin' more like Berlin, or maybe Tokyo. I hear they got the happenin' scene down there."

Wood gave a hesitant look, but mostly for effect. "Frankly, I doubt the Shibuya district is ready for you."

"No place with 'booyah' in the name is ready for me," Faith retorted.

Wood inspected the room. "Spartan" was a good word for it, but he found the few posters on the wall intriguing. One was of a very large, decked-out Harley, but the other... "I didn't know you were a fan of mountains," he commented.

Glancing over her shoulder, Faith saw Wood examining the poster tacked up on the far wall. "That?" Faith confirmed nonchalantly. "No big. I just like 'em. Way I see it, mountain's about the toughest thing around. Ain't nothin' touchin' a mountain. Yeah, you can climb up top, but after you plant your little flag and take a few snapshots for the wife and kiddies, you gotta leave again. The mountain though, it don't much care one way or the other, cuz it knows it's got'cha beat. It can take anythin' you throw at it an' it's still gonna be there long after you're gone."

As though embarrassed by her speech, Faith turned back to her stereo, making a show of dusting it off and fine-tuning its arrangement. Wood smiled slightly, as though receiving confirmation of something. "Why Faith," he said with a note of mock astonishment in his voice, "you have an introspective side."

She waved her hand at him, having none of it. "Yeah, well, I also like how it looks like a big powdered donut if you squint real hard."

Wood chuckled despite himself. "You should see them up close sometime, it's something," he remarked. "But you'll probably want something fancy and exotic, like the Andes in South America, or maybe the Black Forest."

"Maybe I'll check 'em out. I'll see once Red manages to clear my record." She started to pull the entire bed across the floor without any effort whatsoever, an unintentional but obvious show of strength.

"But until then, you're not going anywhere," Wood observed, moving closer to Faith, "which is good because that means we can finally go on that date you promised me."

Faith unceremoniously let the bed drop, straightening quickly and whirling around. "Woah, hold up there, Sparky. I never agreed to no 'date'." She spat the word like it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Wood brought a hand to his chin, narrowing his eyes and looking off as he searched his memory. "I seem to recall you agreeing to let me surprise you if we made it out of Sunnydale. I then recall us making it out of Sunnydale..." He raised his eyebrows at Faith. "Correct me if my memory is failing me here."

"Okay, so?" The Slayer crossed her arms and shot him a look as though daring him continue his thought process.

"This is part of that surprise," Wood patiently explained. "And may I say, you sound surprised already."

Faith was practically incredulous. "Yeah, but a date?"

"Okay, hey, it's cool," replied Wood, holding up his hands. "You're scared, I can understand that. Just forget about it." He turned to leave, getting no more than half a step before the iron grip of the Slayer fastened on his arm.

"Naw, man, no way," she told him flatly. "And let you walk out thinkin' a date with you throws me? Screw that." She tossed his arm back, jutting her chin at him defiantly. "You got'cher date. Anytime, anyplace."

"Fine, then," Wood agreed calmly. "I don't have any plans for tonight."

"Fine."

"I'll be by around 7," Wood confirmed.

Faith fixed him with a powerful stare. "You do that. And don't bring no candy or flowers or crap like that."

"Got it," Wood nodded, heading out the room with a smile. "No candy, no flowers, no crap."

Faith waited until a full minute after he left before turning back to her room. "A date?"

Elsewhere, in a darkened room, a group of robed figures sat, concentrating. A green mist rolled across the floor, only slightly shrouding a pentagram inside a circle surrounded by glyphs and symbols. The totality of the design glowed a deep blue.

Sepulchral voices flowed through the air, chanting one after the other in a focused rhythm.

"Emos..."

"Nablei..."

"Corresa..."

"Veredatas..."

Suddenly the voices merged into a single entity that seemed to carry beyond the walls around them.

"Mogari... We call you."

The symbols flared with light that leapt from the floor and into the air, squirming and pulsating as though they were alive.

"Mogari... We command you."

The light slowed its movement, forming into a single motionless shape as it ceased glowing. It now appeared as some sort of glistening, hairless hound, fangs bared and slavering. The thing had no eyes, simply smooth gray skin where eyes might have been, but it did have a very pronounced, twitching canine nose at the end of its snarling muzzle.

"Mogari... Seek."

With a single blinding flash, the hound was gone.

It materialized in the center of a generically typical suburban neighborhood, startling the nearby birds and causing them to take flight, screeching their alarm. The hound paused only momentarily to sniff the air before moving off in search of prey.