Xander Harris knocked on the kitchen door of the quite suburban house on Revello drive. He waited to see if someone would answer, and when they didn’t, he let himself in. The knock had only been a courtesy. After all, he spent more time in this house than he did in his own apartment.

“Buffy?” he called, no sign of his blonde friend, save the about to burn pancake on the stove. He promptly removed the pan from the heat. Never let it be said that Xander would let good food get ruined. “Dawn? Where are you guys?”

It was then that a harried looking slayer rushed into the room, a dish cloth in one hand, a flipper in the other, and the phone wedged against her ear with her shoulder. She shot Xander a grateful look when she say that breakfast had not been gone up in flames, and handed him the flipper, urging him to continue.

“No, not really a werewolf. I mean, it could have been, but it looked more wolf than Oz ever had.”

She paused as she listened to the other end of the conversation.

“Yes, that’s it. Wolf, Willow, dark haired woman. Giles, I have to go, breakfast is going to be ruined.” She hung up the phone, sent it and the dishcloth down on the counter, and turned to Xander.

“Thanks for the pancake save. Here I was, trying to make you breakfast, and I almost burn it.”

Xander flipped the last pancake onto the plate and set it down on the counter. “Not that I’m complaining, but you didn’t have to cook because I am giving you guys a ride.”

“Well, Dawn needs to eat, and I’ve been up for hours, so I was antsy.” She moved back to the stairs and yelled up them. “Dawn!”

Xander heard the faint response from the teenager as Buffy returned to the kitchen.

“What was with the watcher call?”

“Well, I had a bad dream last night . . .”

“Willow was in it?” Xander interrupted before Buffy could finish.

“Yeah, so I called him. He just called back to ask a couple of questions” She perched on a kitchen stool. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Xander. I think I just overreacted. Thinking back on it now, it really was nothing.”

Xander sat across from her “We’d know that for sure if she’d just come home.”

“Xander, you know that she had her reasons for going to St. Louis instead of coming back here.”

Xander sighed, sounding as if the questions weighed on him heavily. “But what are they, Buffy?”

“I wish I knew.”

The two friends were silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

“So,” Xander said, shattering the silence. “Tell me about your dream.”

Jason wandered into his Preternatural Anthropology class with barely any time to spare. He looked around for a seat, weighing his options. The young wolf always had at least one eye open for the pretty ladies. So he glanced around the room, seeing what opportunities there were in this class. Cute brunette near the back. Attractive blonde somewhere near the middle. His eyes stopped scanning the class when he caught sight of the gleaming red hair in the front. Sure, she was attractive. And something about her that called to him. But was she worth being that close to the front for?

Jason didn’t think so. Unless the professor was a complete nil, they’d be able to sense something about him. Maybe even what he was. And he’d be expected to participate all the time. Jason didn’t want to participate. Knowing what he knew about the Vampire Council, and the Master of the City, on top of pack structure, this class was his “Rocks for Jocks.” He did not want to be a ‘good student’ and talk to the class about what it was really like. He just wanted to breeze through it and be as invisible as possible. He’d hate to have to admit that he was enjoying school. That he was glad Anita had demanded that Jean-Claude make him do it.

He’d hate to admit that Anita was right. That he really wanted more out of his life than a career as a stripper. That he wanted to be more than one of the Masters pets.

So, trying to keep up the front of disinterested student for whoever was watching him on Anita’s behalf, he chose the seat near the brunette. But as he glanced around, noticing how small the class was, Jason thought that he’d probably be out of luck being invisible after all. And as the wolf looked at the redhead that his gaze was once again drawn to, he thought that might not be so bad. Then he could sit near the front all he wanted.

Willow was at the front of her Preternatural Anthropology class, a position that she always took in whatever classroom she entered. She was flipping through the textbook, looking at the differences between this world and the one she had grown up knowing. That was when she felt his eyes on her. She looked up at the feeling, but his eyes had already moved on, scanning the rest of the class. He was just looking for an empty seat, she supposed, and from her experience, no one but her sat up at the front unless there was nowhere else to sit.

He was attractive, Willow thought, if you went for that type. Which she didn’t, she was pretty sure, considering she was still grieving the loss of her girlfriend. But she could still admit that he was easy on the eyes. A little on the short side for a guy, he had short blonde hair, a great build, and what looked to be blue eyes. But, without eye contact, and from this distance, she couldn’t be sure. And why did she want to make eye contact anyways? The witch didn’t know why it mattered.

Sure, he was a cutie, but he was a he. That little fact aside, Willow was still mired in her grief, still thinking of herself as belonging to Tara, even though the other witch was gone. It wasn’t that she wanted anything from the young man. There wasn’t anything the least bit ‘crush’ like that was behind Willow’s desire to see his eyes. There was just something very familiar feeling about him. Something that felt a little like home. She looked down at her textbook again, mentally shaking herself at the weird train of thoughts.

When she glanced back up, the young man was heading towards the back of the class, sliding into a seat next to a gorgeous brunette.

Figured, she thought to herself. They always went for the Cordelia type. Or the Buffy type. Did she really think that he’d come and sit by her?

Sure, she was into girls. But she could still use some friends. And there was just something about the blonde that called to her.

Her fingers drifted up to the amulet, glanced at the empty seat beside her that stayed that way as the professor walked in, and closed the door behind him. It was all for the best, Willow thought, she didn’t need to drag anyone else into the mess that was her life.

But as the professor started the class, she could feel a set of eyes on her, and though it should have made her jumpy, it felt a little like home.