Giles and Willow walked into his office, Giles limping slightly as he carried the remnants of the spell they had been casting earlier. He placed the remaining maps, now depleted to five or six, on his desk and moved to the nearby cabinet to began putting things away. Willow watched him work, looking slightly frazzled.

"Hey, well, at least I was able to finally pinpoint you. You know, before the map went all kerplewy. Again. That's an improvement ... right?" she grinned hopefully.

Absolutely," Giles reassured her. "And I never liked these shoes anyway."

Willow glanced at the pair of shoes he dropped in the nearby trashcan. The soles had been melted into a thick, formless rubber and thin wisps of smoke rose into the air. Giles rubbed the bottom of his sock-clad feet and smiled as Willow threw herself into one of the chairs situated in front of his desk, looking very sheepish.

Giles went about taking stock of his supply cabinet as Willow picked at the arm of the chair she was sitting in. Neither said anything for a time, then Willow, with deliberate casualness, asked, "Have you ... heard from Buffy?"

"No, not a word," replied Giles, holding a red bottle up to the light and shaking it, trying to gauge how much was left inside. "You did say you were able to contact her, though? Explained the situation?"

"Yup, she's all in the know," the witch confirmed. "I figured she'd, y'know, call or somethin'." Willow shrugged, as though indicating that it didn't really matter much to her one way or the other. "But oh well. She's off doing whatever she's doing and I guess she's pretty busy with the doing of it wherever she is that isn't here."

Giles paused in his inventory, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Yes?" he offered tentatively, not really sure if there was a question in there somewhere that he was expected to answer.

Willow refocused her efforts on playing with the trim on the leather seats, her face set in an unmistakable pout.

"You'd hoped she'd return," the Watcher interpreted softly.

"No!" Willow responded immediately. "Well, yes." She frowned. "No. I-It's just that we have all these newbie Slayers an' we could really use Buffy's help with training. Y'know, impart 'em with that special 'Alpha Slayer' knowledge. So she should be here. Imparting."

Willow nodded to herself, then her eyes widened as another thought popped into her brain. "Oh, and plus, I need to go clothes shopping because I'm back at school now and, hello, they have sales for just that reason. Only I was thinkin' about not lookin' like a bag of Skittles threw up all over me, an' you know that's what usually happens when I'm allowed to shop by myself. And mochas!" She became even more enthusiastic, whirling in her seat to face Giles. "Kennedy doesn't like mochas, which is simply unnatural by the way and has me partially convinced she is not of this earth, and don't you think it's really selfish of Buffy to leave me without a mocha partner?" The redhead's bottom lip began to jut out again, threatening to return to pout mode at any moment.

"I miss her too," he said kindly.

Unable to completely hide the twinge of sadness in her eyes, Willow smiled at Giles, then both jumped as the door was thrown open and Andrew shuffled into the room. He was carrying the chest that Giles had bought earlier that day and clearly having a great deal of trouble with it. Still, he seemed to prefer the idea of a hernia to asking one of the many of super-strong Slayers for help, and he placed the chest before Giles with great reverence.

Gasping for breath at every other word, Andrew wheezed, "Here's that ... thing ... Mr. Giles ... " He tightly clenched his eyes closed and straightened up, hands supporting his lower back.

Giles moved to the chest, squatting down to inspect it carefully. "Ahh, excellent. Thank you, Andrew."

"Oh, no problem," Andrew responded with a dismissive wave, fighting to control his breathing. "I've been working out, you know. Why just yesterday I moved the pin thingie up to two." He grinned broadly, very proud of his achievements.

"Most impressive. And how many repetitions did you do?" The Watcher sounded vaguely distracted as he examined the chest.

Andrew's grin faltered. "Repetitions?"

Moving to join them, Willow lightly backhanded Andrew across the stomach in a playful gesture. "That's our He-Man," she snickered as he winced.

"By the power of Grayskull," he replied weakly.

Giles missed out on most of the banter, remaining intent on his purchase. Convinced he was unable to get it open any other way, he stood and went to one of the dozens of drawers that lined his office walls, pulling it open and rummaging around inside. Willow took his place in front of the chest, running her hand across the carvings on the top and sides.

"Giles, this is gorgeous," she breathed.

"Mmm," murmured Giles in agreement, "I was quite taken with it myself. However there's no key, so we'll have to rely on a more ... unconventional method of opening it."

Willow and Andrew moved to one side as Giles returned with a long, bony, vaguely key-shaped artifact in his hand. He put it in the lock and gave it a half-turn. "Descuiat," he intoned, and both the key and the lock began to glow a soft white, followed by an audible click. Satisfied, Giles removed the artifact and placed it on the desk behind him.

"Neat," Andrew said appreciatively. "What is that, like a skeleton key?"

"Yes," answered Giles.

Andrew considered this for a moment. "It's made from a real skeleton, isn't it?"

"Yes," Giles responded in the exact same tone.

"You guys are so cool."

Opening the lid without further comment, they all peered at the contents. It was about two-thirds full of all manner of curiosities, seeming to have no real rhyme or reason. Several items in particular stood out among the bottles, envelopes and assorted papers – a stack of books, which Giles immediately reached for, and a large round black disc with red lettering.

The disc attracted Willow's attention, and she snatched it from the chest with an excited, "Ooo!" Andrew was equally interested, and followed as she moved off to the side to examine it more closely. Remaining by the chest, Giles grabbed the first book and flipped through it. He frowned and placed it on the ground, leafing through the second and then the third.

"Diaries. Pity," he remarked, clearly disappointed.

Across the room, Willow and Andrew had discovered that the disc, approximately the size of a large pizza, was in fact a ouija board. They had commandeered a clear, empty glass from somewhere and had it upside down on the board. Their fingers were resting on the top of the glass, using it as a makeshift planchette.

"You're moving it! You're making it move!" Andrew protested through his giggles.

"I don't know what you're talking about," denied Willow vehemently as the glass tried to jerkily move across the board. "If the spirit world thinks that Matrix: Revolutions will suck, then who are we to disagree?"

They snickered at each other, quite taken with their own silliness.

"Oh Great and Powerful ... uhm, Power People," Andrew chanted in a low, even voice, his eyes closed. "Is Willow Rosenberg a big dorkhead?"

Willow gasped in exaggerated indignation as Andrew fought with her to bring the glass to the large "YES". Then suddenly Giles was there, clearing his throat. The pair straightened up, the board forgotten as the redhead grabbed the glass and gingerly returned it, right side up, to Giles' desk. They stood there side-by-side, beaming at him. The very picture of innocence.

Which he didn't buy for a second.

His disapproval quite apparent, Giles frowned at the both of them. "The ouija board is not a toy."

They stammered "Oh no!"s, "Absolutely not!"s and other such sounds of complete agreement.

"It was Andrew's idea," Willow quickly added.

Andrew gaped at her openly. She didn't meet his gaze, simply elbowing him sharply in the side. He winced again and rubbed it, sulking.

"I'm quite serious." Giles fixed them with an intense stare, and they shuffled uncomfortably. "You should both know better. Potent forces can-can be unleashed with devices such as these, i-it's best not to even pretend to use them. There's no way of knowing what might be listening."

As one, they hung their heads, suitably chastised as they mumbled their apologies.

"Yes, well ... " Giles trailed off, growing uncomfortable himself. "Don't let it happen again or you'll both be sent to your room without supper. Now if we're all quite done playing out these extremely disturbing roles...? Willow, I was wondering if you could perhaps do a casting on these items. Determine which, if any, are magickal in nature?"

Willow nodded, happy to no longer feel like she was five years old again. "Sure, so long as there's nothing in there you won't mind gettin' back a little extra-crispy if things start goin' all wacky."

Giles placed the ouija board back into the chest and closed the lid.

Dawn poured the remainder of the Doritos into the mostly-full bowl in front of her, crumpling the bag and throwing it in the trashcan. It was but one of many snack bowls surrounding her in the kitchen, filled to the brim with all manner of chips or candy. She surveyed the bowls critically, only barely acknowledging Xander as he entered the room.

She did, however, acknowledge the handful of M&Ms he grabbed from the bowl closest to him, and smacked his hand lightly. He ignored her, tossing his ill-gotten gains into his mouth anyway.

"Quite the feast you got goin' here, Dawnster," he said appreciatively. "Enough to feed a small army. Or a bunch of teenage girls, I suppose." Xander cocked is head to one side, thinking. "What's the grouping name for teenage girls anyway? Gaggle? A 'gaggle' of girls? Huh." Dawn bapped his hand as he made off with another handful of candy.

"There won't be any left if you don't quit it," she complained.

"I think you can spare a few crumbs for a growing boy. And I mean growing this way," he held his hand about an inch over his head, "and not this way," his hand hovered over his stomach. Xander glanced down, noticing just how far out his hand was. He regarded it carefully, as though seeing it for the first time. Moving his hand away from and towards his stomach, gauging the distance, he reached a conclusion and guilty returned the remaining candy to the bowl.

Dawn was occupied with fussing over the bowl arrangement, twisting one slightly clockwise here, pushing another a millimeter back there. "I just want everything to be perfect."

"Hey, it's guaranteed to be a swingin' smorgasbord of Summers ... " Trailing off, Xander tried to find the right word, quickly giving up. "Something fun that begins with 's'." He paused again as his train of thought jumped tracks. "Maybe it's a 'google' of girls? Nah, that sounds like a naughty search engine."

The teenager turned to Xander, focusing all of her attention on him. "Now you and Willow are leaving, right? You guys will be gone?"

Xander nodded, reassuring Dawn through her slightly manic anxiety. "Yup. Will and Kenn'll be doin' their smoochy romantic dinner thing until late. And as for me, I have Manly Man Poker Night until all hours. And I mean that quite literally. Because we are men of the manly variety and with the poker and the ... " He broke off, interrupting himself with a wave of his hand. "Ah, this is Running Out of Words Day. The house'll be yours for a while, that's the point."

"Although there are rules, missy," Willow added in a stern voice as she entered the kitchen. Spying the tantalizing bowl of candy on the counter, she eagerly grabbed a handful, mindless of Dawn's plaintive protests.

"Oh absolutely," Xander agreed emphatically.

"There will be no leaving of the house once we're gone," began Willow, ticking the rule off on her finger.

Echoing her motion, Xander said, "No boys over. Unless they're me. Okay, ow?" he protested as the redhead smacked his arm.

She ignored him, raising a third finger. "No summoning demons or other nasties."

"No destruction of property," continued Xander. "I'm still way behind on Giles' bookcases."

"No anchovies on your pizza," she shuddered, "cuz it's just wrong."

"No—"

Dawn cut them off, sounding more amused than irritated. "Guys. I know. We covered this yesterday. And the day before, and oh, I think I still have the list Willow printed out last week..."

Andrew shuffling into the kitchen, panting heavily again and once more holding his lower back, interrupted her assurances.

"I think I should get workman's comp," he whined.

The witch paid no attention to his complaints, instead asking, "Where'd you put it?"

Stretching his back with a wince, he replied, "I left it in the living room. If you want me to carry it anywhere else, I want a back brace first. But not one of those ugly orange ones like they use at Home Depot, okay?"

He moved further into the kitchen, grabbing a handful of M&Ms. Dawn very pointedly moved the bowl of candy to the other side of the counter. Andrew popped a few in his mouth and then lifted up a single green candy, showing it to the group. He grinned in what was probably supposed to be something of a leer, but it instead came across more like a pathetic grimace.

"Hey, you know what they say about the green ones." He ate it, chewing knowingly. "They turn you into a demon."

Andrew waited, as though this was new and important knowledge that everyone should have been thrilled he imparted. Instead, they simply stared.

"A demon," he explained. "You know? With ... horns?" He poked two fingers out on either side of his head to demonstrate. When nobody said anything, his tone became reassuring. "But not really, so it's okay."

Still nobody said anything. On an unspoken agreement, they decided to pretend it never happened.

"So, Will," Xander began with exaggerated cheeriness, "I've been wonderin': what's the grouping name for teenage girls?"

"A 'gossip'?" Willow guessed with a shrug. Xander nodded sagely, completely satisfied with this answer.

The group looked over to the other kitchen entrance as Kennedy strode in. She immediately noticed the bowl of candy close to her and grabbed a large handful on her way past. Dawn made a shocked and mournful sound and moved the now half-empty bowl of M&Ms to the counter behind her, where she stood guard with her arms crossed.

Kennedy moved toward Willow and briefly kissed her hello. "Hey, you about ready?" she asked.

"Yeah, lemme just get changed," replied Willow, heading upstairs.

Munching on the candy, Kennedy leaned against the far wall, considering Dawn. "So, the big night. What're you guys plannin' on doin' with yourselves?" She smirked, a touch of contempt in her voice. "Trying on eye shadow and swooning over Ben Affleck?"

Dawn sneered and pulled a face at Kennedy like she had suggested Dawn and her friends spend the evening crocheting oven mitts and playing Bingo. "Ben Affleck? Yeah, whatever."

"Or whoever the 'hunk' of the week is," shrugged Kennedy, "I can never remember."

Andrew turned to Xander, wanting no part of the obvious tension rising in the room. "Everything ready for tonight?" he asked brightly.

"Just about. I just need to head on over to Zig's for the Buffalo wings." Xander held up his hand in a solemn vow. "I will get Giles to eat a wing tonight if it's the last thing I do." He checked to make sure he had his keys before going to Dawn. "Have fun tonight, okay? Call if you need anything."

Xander affectionately placed a kiss on the top of Dawn's head and then turned to the door, Andrew following on his heels.

"This is gonna be so cool," the blond enthused. "Like Lock Stock, only without all the drugs and antique guns and ironic plot twists. Hey, can I be Bacon?"

Perched on top one of the many filing cabinets spread around the room, Faith watched as Hazel tried to make heads or tails of the mountains of paperwork strewn across the room in a way that could only be considered "haphazard". Hazel's brow was furrowed in stress and confusion; Faith just looked pissed.

"I can't believe you let her beat you."

Hazel sighed heavily, letting her hands drop to her thighs with a loud slap that only partly gave vent to her frustration. "For the sixty thousandth time," she stressed, "I did not let her beat me. She cheated," the junior Slayer added huffily.

Faith continued to stare at Hazel, her expression unchanging.

"She tickled me! Somewhere, somehow, that's gotta be cheating," Hazel insisted.

"I just can't believe you let her beat you."

Hazel banged her head repeatedly on the nearest filing cabinet.

"An' I can't believe I lost to the Brat," continued Faith, running a hand through her hair before jabbing a finger at Hazel. "She's gonna be impossible now, you got no idea."

"What do you have to do?" the girl asked cautiously.

Faith ground her teeth together, finding the entire situation quite distasteful. "It involves a 'Kennedy Was Right' t-shirt an' the rest of my pride. That's all you need to know."

Despite herself, Hazel snickered. She was rewarded with a rubber band bouncing off the back of her head.

"Yeah, so anyway," continued Faith, no longer wanting to dwell on that subject. "You cause me pain an' strife, you get my crap jobs. Giles said this place gotta be all indexed or whatever by this system he and Red cooked up. I tuned out the details, so you got questions, bug one'a them."

With that, Faith jumped down from the cabinet and headed towards the door. Hazel looked around despairingly at the hundreds of files, glancing up when Faith turned back.

"Oh, an' you're meetin' me tomorrow, 9am sharp," she stated. "We're gonna work out this 'tickling' thing, then you're rematchin' with Princess Bubble Yum, got it?"

Hazel saluted sharply, earning a smirk from Faith before the older woman walked out of the room, not bothering to close the door. Still seeming every bit as lost as before, Hazel turned around in a circle amongst the sea of files, trying to discern the best place to start. After a few moments of complete indecision, she simply grabbed the stack closest to her and started trying to make sense of it all. She worked peacefully for a time, becoming absorbed in the task and completely oblivious to someone walking by in the hallway.

Judith was humming to herself, an unrecognizable and slightly off-key tune, and just happened to glance casually into the open room. Not expecting to see anything of interest she kept walking, but quickly backed up a few paces when her brain processed what her eyes had seen. Smirking to herself, she lounged against the entrance, watching an unaware Hazel sort through a couple of files.

"Knock knock," she grinned, rapping lightly on the doorframe.

Startled by the interruption, Hazel whirled around sharply. When she realized who it was, she rolled her eyes. "Oh goodie. I was just wondering how this could get worse."

Judith remained unphased. "My 'sore loser' sense is tingling," she commented dryly.

The other girl merely grunted in a noncommittal fashion and returned to her work, doing her best to ignore Judith altogether. Which of course only served as encouragement.

"So what's up with all this?" asked Judith, walking into the room and motioning at the files. "You being punished or something?"

"Yes, actually," Hazel grudgingly admitted.

The smirk died on Judith's lips as she was taken aback, blinking several times in surprise. "Oh. Wow, sorry," she offered, astonished. "Faith, uh ... doesn't like losing, does she?"

"No, it doesn't appear to be one of her more charming personality traits," Hazel replied ruefully.

Judith became amused again. "That would probably be her natural congeniality." Her body language changed. She looked more tightly wound and dangerous. "I'm Faith," she impersonated, lowering her voice slightly and making it scratchy, "I'm the baddest o' badass Slayers. An' if you don't believe me, just check out these pants. Pure leather, yo. Fear me." She struck a pose at the end, challenging anyone and everyone to deny her proclamation, but could only hold it for a second before both she and Hazel dissolved into a fit of giggles. When they were finally able to get themselves back under control, the two girls shared a smile, the previous tension dissipated.

"Seriously, I'm sorry," Judith told Hazel earnestly. "I didn't mean to get you into trouble."

Hazel shrugged, gesturing with the files still held in her hands. "Eh, it's not so bad. I actually don't mind helping out with stuff like this. Besides," she added, tilting her head to one side, "I'm finding the whole 'losing' experience highly motivating. And next time? Rib protectors."

"Better I find out your weakness than some ... Tickle Demon or something." They both chuckled at the thought of such a creature. "I mean honestly, is there nothing that doesn't have some sort of demonic personification?" wondered Judith.

"I don't think there's a 'Sneeze Demon'."

"We probably just haven't found it yet. I'm sure it's lurking in the dusty corners of Hell, just waiting for the right number of sneezes to bring it forth into the world, where it will run around blowing pepper at poor unsuspecting victims."

Looking quite grave, Hazel managed to say with a completely straight face, "It'll be the Slayers' sacred duty to bring Kleenex to the world."

The stoicism failed to last very long, and they were soon back to giggling like lunatics. Finally able to regain control, they wiped their eyes and clenched their aching sides.

"Hey, look," began Judith, after taking a deep, steadying breath. "I know we kinda got off on the wrong foot. Or feet. Mile. Whatever. But maybe we can try again?" She regarded Hazel seriously. "I think we have a lot to learn from each other, and I'd rather not completely alienate my roommate within in the first month. Usually it takes at least six for someone to decide they can't stand me," she added with a grin.

Hazel smiled, brightly and with genuine pleasure. "Okay."

"Okay," echoed Judith with an agreeable nod. When Hazel turned back to the filing, Judith picked up a small stack and set about helping. Neither said anything for several minutes until Hazel finally broke the silence.

"You know I'll take you in the end, though, right?" she said without looking up.

Judith smiled at Hazel. "What's important is you believe that."

Willow and Kennedy sat across from each other at a table in the center of a restaurant. The lights were low, but the candles on the table provided plenty of illumination. Willow was talking animatedly while Kennedy listened, sipping her drink occasionally and nodding at the appropriate moments. She was immersed in the story, hanging on Willow's every word.

"...so then I reach behind the counter, and she's there. Right behind me, all skanky and evil."

"What'd you do?" Kennedy prompted eagerly.

Willow put on her tough face, jutting her chin out defiantly. "I told her to just back the heck off! Told her to crawl right back to the alternate hell dimension she came from, a-and then— No, okay, I panicked," she confessed, no longer even remotely puffed up. "Then there was neck licking and everything got really, really confusing."

Kennedy slurped up some of her soda through the straw, completely engrossed. "And...?"

"I shot her with Oz's tranquilizer gun and then Buffy got an idea – and you know that can't end well – so I ..." Trailing off, a mischievous glint appeared in Willow's eyes. "Oh, but wait. I seem to be getting fuzzy memories. Possibly brought on by the lack of mutual shareage. It's going ... going ... Oh, it's gone. Nope, can't remember a thing." She gave her head a definitive shake.

The straw dropped away and Kennedy smirked at the redhead. "That's so wrong," she groused, sounding more amused than irritated.

"But it feels so right," grinned Willow.

"Okay, fine," the Slayer relented after a minute of glaring. "One story from my sordid past coming up, but then I want more details on this neck licking thing. Because I think that would explain a lot about you."

Willow's grin broadened and she nodded happily, settling in her seat like an expectant child at story time. Kennedy remained silent, gathering her thoughts before beginning.

"So this one time, I was probably about eleven or twelve, Dad had us with him on an extended business trip in London. We were staying in this flat in Knightsbridge, I think it was. Pretty nice place from what I can remember. Anyway, we'd been there for about a week when one day, me and my sister started feelin' kinda bored. We went outside to play cuz we were drivin' my step mom nuts, but there wasn't a whole lot for us to do. I remember swinging around on these railing things that were separating the upstairs flat from the one downstairs, while Mackenzie just slipped through 'em like a cat. We were trying to think of something to do to pass the time when it turned into sort of a game of Truth or Dare."

"Only without the 'Truth' part, I'll bet."

"Yeah, pretty much. I mean, what kind of truth could a big bad twelve-year old want from some kid who'd only been around for six or seven? I already knew all her secrets anyway, I read her diary constantly," Kennedy added with a smirk.

Willow couldn't help but grin back. "You're so bad."

"And you know you love it. But anyway, so we're playing 'Truth or Dare Minus the Truth' and she dares me to crawl through the railing like she's been doin' all afternoon."

"Uh-oh."

"Well forget the logic of the fact that she's about half my size and as big around as my pinky finger," Kennedy held up said digit for emphasis, "there was no way I was gonna pass on a dare." The Slayer hunkered down, as though reliving the experience as she continued her story. "I got down on my hands and knees and just poked my head through the railing. It actually went in pretty easy, so I figured 'Okay, this isn't so hard.' Of course, then I tried to squeeze the rest of me through it, and that part? Not so easy."

Willow only made a token gesture at stifling the giggles. "God. What happened?"

"There was no way I was gettin' these shoulders through there, so I tried to back out completely ... only my head was stuck."

Laughing out loud, Willow didn't even bother to try and hide her amusement.

The laughter was infectious, and Kennedy couldn't help but match it. "I tried to go forward again, then back ... Nothing worked, my head was stuck."

Tears streaming down her face, Willow shook her head, trying to clear it. "I can just picture this. You must've been goin' nuts."

"I admit it wasn't my most dignified moment ever. Mac, of course, nearly laughed herself unconscious, but finally went to get my step mom. There was nothing she could do, though. Then the neighbors started coming out and offering 'helpful' advice. I never did find out who suggested buttering my head," she mumbled darkly.

Willow erupted into new peals of laughter, struggling to speak. "How ... How – oh god ... How did you get out?"

"They called Dad. Pulled him out of a meeting and everything. He came home and bent the bars apart, simple as that. Less simple was getting him to trust me around tight spaces again. To this day he glares whenever we pass a railing."

The laughter eventually died away, Willow taking several deep breaths to bring it under control. She drank some of her soda, smiling across the table. "This is nice. Good. Nicely good. I'm really glad we talked stuff out. Angry not-talking? Less nicely good."

"One of these days I'm gonna write my own 'Willow to English' dictionary," the Slayer remarked with a grin. "'How to Speak Willow in 21 Days'."

The waitress arriving with a large plate stacked high with mozzarella sticks interrupted the conversation, and Willow forgot any retort in the face of cheesy goodness. She grabbed one hungrily and scooped out a big dollop of marinara sauce before chomping down. Kennedy made no move to share, content to simply play with the straw as she watched the redhead.

"MMmMMMmmm," Willow groaned around a string of melted cheese. "Oh, this is so good."

She glanced up to see Kennedy staring at her, a slightly goofy smile on the Slayer's face.

"What?" said Willow self-consciously. "What? Oh, god, do I have sauce—?" Grabbing her napkin out of her lap, she frantically wiped her mouth and turned back to Kennedy. "Is it gone?"

"Nope, pretty much still there," came the nonchalant reply.

Willow resumed her wiping and then sensed she was being toyed with. "Kenn ... " she warned.

The Slayer wasn't in the least bit remorseful. "You're just ... so damned adorable, you know that?"

Her mouth snapped shut and Willow ducked her head, blushing furiously. Kennedy continued to affix the other woman with an intense stare.

"I swear I could spend all day just watching you do the most mundane boring stuff," she stated with something like wonder. "It's like ... you make every little thing you do seem like it's the most incredible moment of your whole life."

Willow's blush intensified, but a pleased smile crossed her lips. "I really like fried cheese...?" she offered.

With no apparent warning, something in Kennedy's mood shifted drastically, catching Willow by surprise. It was Kennedy's turn to duck her head, and she fidgeted in her chair. The Slayer was clearly feeling nervous about something, and the emotion was so foreign on her that Willow's earlier discomfort was completely forgotten. "Is something wrong?" she asked, a note of alarm in her voice.

Kennedy shook her head a little more violently than necessary as though to clear it. "No. No, everything's ... right. It's perfect." She sighed heavily. "I wanted to ... " Trailing off, the Slayer sighed again, frustrated with herself. "Dammit, this shouldn't be so hard."

The strange behavior was affecting Willow, and she now appeared more nervous than Kennedy. Her hand reached out across the table and rested over the other woman's, squeezing lightly. "Kennedy? What is it, sweetie? You can tell me anything," Willow assured her.

"Would you—?" Kennedy blurted out, cutting herself off almost immediately. She rolled her eyes, giving up as she said, "Ahh, hell," and without further comment placed a ring box on the table in front of Willow.

Willow immediately released Kennedy's hand, jerking it back as though she'd been shocked. She said nothing, her jaw working soundlessly as her eyes widened, staring at the box like a deer caught in a pair of headlights.