Giles paced the floor of the kitchen in his flat, waiting for the water to boil. He didn’t really need any more tea. The former watcher had consumed almost a dozen cups since his phone conversation. He was really only preparing it in order to distract himself, and, he supposed, to keep his hands busy for a minute or two.

Several hours had passed since Giles had spoken with Oz. The young werewolf’s unusual feelings on the night of the last full moon matched the feelings that Buffy had described experiencing in her dream.

While that did intrigue and confuse the Englishman, it was not the thing that was troubling him the most.

Oz lived in St. Louis. Of all places that he could have been in the world, he was in the one where Willow had decided to build her new life. And Oz’s Ulfric had an allegiance with the Master of St. Louis. And wolves were the vampire’s animal to call.

What were the chances that Willow would avoid running into her former love? Especially considering there were certain conditions to the young woman living in St. Louis, one of them being to occasionally report to the Master.

Giles’ two former students were now living in the same circles of the same city. It would be a miracle if they didn’t run into each other. But Giles doubted that. The group who called themselves the Scoobies would never have that kind of providential good fortune.

They would see each other eventually, and likely it would happen even sooner than Giles could predict.

Things had not gone all that well the last time that Oz and Willow had seen each other. After all, the one thing that could set off Oz’s transformation more than anything was Willow. This was what troubled Giles.

Was Willow strong enough to face the inevitable encounter? Or would she only remember that Oz had once tried to hurt Tara?

Giles didn’t believe that Willow would ever hurt the young man she had loved so much. But what if something he said inadvertently broke that small amount of control that she had managed to attain? What if he said something to anger her? What if he said something about Tara?

Should Giles have told Oz that Willow lived in his very city? He had told Oz that Willow had left Sunnydale, but the former watcher had not confided in the boy the reasons why.

He had left a lot out when talking to the younger man. He had explained how it was that Buffy was alive, how Willow had gained enough power to resurrect the girl, unwise as that may have been. But Giles had not told Oz about Tara’s death, or the events that occurred immediately after. That story was Willow’s tale to tell. But perhaps he should have warned Oz about the possibility of seeing her, about her power.

Or maybe he should have told him of Tara’s death.

The shrill whistle of the kettle drew Giles from his thoughts. He could not afford to dwell on it. He had to look into Buffy’s dream. There was something else going on there, and Oz’s call had proved that. As a watcher, Giles needed to discover what it was, and what it wanted with his slayer. He could only hope that he had been right about keeping Willow’s location, and her reasons for being there to himself.

Buffy hung up the phone for the fifth time. She was just really unsure if she should do it. Should she call him? Could she call him?

The blonde slayer had been attempting to call her former boyfriend. She was having a hard time doing it, though.

It might have been easier had they kept in closer contact, but they hadn’t, really.

Buffy had been to L.A. not even a handful of times, and the meetings were always filled with tension and harsh words. Of course, that one meeting after her return had gone a little smoother.

But that had been nearly a year ago. Could she really just call Angel up out of the blue and ask him a favour?

The blonde wouldn’t even be contemplating it, but after the dream she had had . . .

The dream had been haunting her, and she wanted, no, needed to talk to her best friend. Giles had refused to give her the number, telling her that Willow would call her with it when she was ready. But Buffy never had been a patient person.

She didn’t know where Willow was at the moment, but she did know that the witch had spent some time in L.A. when she returned from England. Angel might know where she had gone.

Besides, Buffy was curious to see whether or not Angel or any of his crew had alarm bells going off as hers had been since the dream. At least, that was the reason she was going to use to justify the call.

She picked up the phone, a determined look set on her features. She would ask Angel about any weird occurrences. And if the slayer casually asked Angel about her best friend, well, who could fault her?

Buffy fidgeted nervously in her seat, biting her bottom lip as she waited for someone to pick up on the other end of the line.

Angel hung up the phone with an unneeded but heartfelt exhalation of breath. A look of frustration graced the classic features for which he had been named, conveying his mood as he reclined in his seat.

He was thankful that Buffy didn’t call more often. Dealing with the blonde slayer always brought up thoughts of the past, thoughts that were better left there.

He was beginning to live in the present, learning to leave the past buried and concentrate on making amends in the present. Talking to Buffy just dragged him back.

The vampire supposed it couldn’t be avoided, the occasional conversation with the active slayer. It was part of the job, after all.

Buffy’s spider sense had been going off, and she had wondered if anything strange had been going on in his neck of the woods, especially on the night of the full moon.

Of course, after business had been conducted, Buffy had managed to casually ask if he had Willow’s number.

This, Angel suspected, was the real reason that Buffy had called. Giles hadn’t given it to her, so she figured that she’d be able to sweet-talk her ex into disclosing the information.

He had told her that he would pass along a message, but that was all he would do. Willow would give Buffy the number herself is she wanted the slayer to have it.

But seeing as he had told Buffy that he’d let Willow know, he supposed he’d better do that.

“Spike!” he called, knowing that the other vampire would hear him no matter where he happened to be in the hotel.

Angel could call her himself but Willow had told him it felt like he was checking up one her.

Spike, though, called her at least once a week. The vampire and the witch had forged a friendship during her visit to L.A. They found that, with Spike know in possession of a soul, they had a lot in common. Both had a love of art, especially of the written word. And both were just beginning to travel the rocky road to redemption.

The bleached blonde walked into Angel’s office at that moment, interrupting Angel’s thoughts.

“You bellowed?” Spike asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“I just called your name,” Angel responded, coming out of his chair. He didn’t want to be seated with Spike standing there. It made him feel weak. It was just his vampire nature, he supposed, to always want to be the dominant one.

“Yeah, loud enough to wake the dead.”

Angel took in the other vampire’s dishevelled appearance. “Looks like I had to.”

“Sod off, it’s the middle of the bloody day. It’s when we’re supposed to sleep.” With those words, Spike pushed himself away from the doorjamb and flung himself into a chair, throwing his feet on Angel’s desk. “What was it that you wanted anyways?”

Angel sat on the edge of his desk, pushing the other vampire’s feet to the floor as he did so. “I just wanted to know if you’d talked to Willow this week.”

“And it couldn’t have waited till sunset? Something of dire importance I need to talk to Red for immediately?” Spike tried to sound put off by the idea, but his grandsire could see in the blue eyes that the idea of talking to his friend had lightened Spike’s mood.

“Well, Buffy seems more than eager to talk to her. She called here to get her number, and Buffy never calls here.”

“Slayer called?” Spike looked torn at the mention of her. While the friendship he had struck up with Willow was strong, he still worshiped the ground that Buffy trod upon. After all, he had gone in search of a soul for her.

And at the moment, Spike was now stuck between the fierce loyalty he felt for Willow, and the desire to do anything he possibly could to please Buffy.

As much as Angel was relishing Spike’s discomfort, he decided to put the blonde out of his misery. “Don’t worry, I already told her no. But I promised I’d pass along the message. Thought that you might be able to do it for me?”

“Sure thing, peaches. Was going to call the little witch today anyway. I guess I could pass along the slayer’s message.” With that, Spike got up from his chair. “Just don’t get used to me doing you favours, right? I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t going to call her in the first place.”

The vampire turned and strode out of the room, leaving his grandsire amused at the tough persona that Spike was using, like a security blanket that could hide his true emotions from the world. It was too bad that you could see his heart in his eyes.

Now that Spike was taking care of the real reason for Buffy’s phone call, Angel was left to contemplate the other thing that she had asked him about. Had anything unusual happened on the full moon?

Well, it was L.A. When weren’t their cases unusual? But anything overly bizarre?

He could remember being overly agitated the night of the full moon. But he’d written it off when he had found a nest of vampires using some a couple of the more mindless demons in the area to do their bidding. And, while out of the ordinary, it hadn’t been anything apocalyptic.

And, from what Buffy said, the feeling that she’d had, had been stuff big bads.

Angel was about to write it off as nothing more than a story she used as a reason for calling when Wesley entered.

Things were still tense with the man, but the time he had spent talking with Willow and Spike at their arrival in L.A. had helped Angel with his anger at his best friend. Wesley had just done what he thought was best for everyone. Misguided as his actions had been, his heart had been in the right place.

And Angel had nearly smothered him for it. Which, as Cordelia had informed him quite snidely when she heard about it, was a bit of an overreaction.

After a quiet conversation with Willow, during which she explained to him the things she had done in the name of love, and had told him that, while Wesley had been the better person by trying to save people from hurt rather than be the cause of it, he had still been motivated by love, Angel had gone to the man. He had asked Wesley to come back, telling him that all was not forgotten, or forgiven, but that Angel would like to have Wesley around so that they could work on it.

Wes had reluctantly returned, but he remained distant. The former watcher spent most of his time searching for a way to open the portal to Quortoth. And he rarely entered Angel’s office of his own volition.

Whatever it was, it had to be important.

He seemed reluctant to speak, as he usually did with the Vampire. Since his return, Wesley always waited for Angel to speak first.

“What’s up Wesley?”

He entered further and started speaking, tentatively. “I just finished speaking to Giles, on the other line.” He added the last hesitantly, knowing that Angel had also been on the phone. The man was always scared of what he said, wondering what would set Angel off. Angel couldn’t really blame him, after the incident at the hospital.

“What did Giles have to say?” Angel asked, prompting the man to continue.

“Seems that young Mr. Osborne called him, about some strange occurrence on the night of the full moon.”

The full moon? Seemed that Buffy might have had a reason to be concerned after all. Maybe they needed to start asking around.

“Angel,” Wesley spoke, noticing that Angel’s attention had started to drift. “That’s not all.” Angel focused again on the former watching, nodding at him to continue.

“It seems that the young man is living in St. Louis.”