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The next two days and three nights went by very differently for the both of them.

Buffy had a conversation with her new boss Tuesday afternoon, congratulating Robin on the baby, asking after Faith. It was a short phone call, filled with distracted interest for the students he hoped would show some interest in Buffy's position. Robin was taking the rest of the week off, and there was little to be done on his part.

A doting father's attentions were hard to grasp when the school could survive a few days without him; if there were any problems, Buffy should speak with his assistant.

In the meantime, the only other people she spoke with were the townspeople, who altogether supplied a near tumultuous array of questions regarding the mysteriousness of her shop being closed yesterday. Forced to describe the counselor situation, Buffy quickly assuaged any fears that she was planning to sell the antique store or move away. She received many heartfelt congratulations afterward, which thankfully bellied some of the nervousness regarding her new job.

Tuesday was busy, but a happy busy. Kind of like socializing at a party where you're filled with good cheer and preferably sweet wine. In Buffy's case, memories fueled the emotion. Memories and questions that poked at her for answers on a man who was a walking contradiction to himself. A man she decided was quite fun to think about, even if she did so absurdly often...

William was soft spoken, but unafraid of dropping a swear word when she stubbed her toe. He held down a simple job for fourteen years, held doors open for her, proved himself a gentleman yet again when he accompanied Buffy to her car.

She never remembered meeting someone like him. Someone who made her want to ask questions, but didn't hide things on purpose. Someone who made it obvious he was interested without trying. William fought to conceal his feelings, but he did it badly enough that Buffy was sure insecurity played a part. It was the one thing he seemed determined to keep a secret, besides his job, which once revealed no longer seemed to matter.

Buffy didn't think he was purposely hiding himself from her. Not really. Rather, she was fairly certain his lack of personal anecdotes and shy glances were the product of a lonely heart. It only made Buffy more curious.

She had once found mysterious men to be quite alluring, and yes, William was mysterious, but in an unusual way. He was filled with untapped self assurance, always taking heavy swallows and making bold eye contact in the courageous moments. Otherwise, he was like a man behind the curtain, peeking out once in a cautious while to find her waiting for him.

She knew he was there, it was just a matter of coaxing William out.

***

The man in question would have never guessed Buffy's thoughts revolved around him so thoroughly. It had taken a nice big bottle of Jack, in the untouched atmosphere of his own kitchen, to fall asleep after Monday night's graveyard shift. Of course, sleep was really an inaccurate way of describing it. No one would call tossing around in the sheets of an empty bed, beside lying naked and nauseous by an open window for hours, sleep.

He'd gone to bed happy and miserable at once. The first real encounter with Buffy Summers did a number on him, that was true enough, but he'd been the worst kind of unprepared for the second.

His dreams were half conscious ones. Foggy pictures, flitting through his head and filled with color like a kaleidoscope. Butterflies thrived in his stomach. The alcohol was a bittersweet, but necessary addition to this crummy panic and bouts of pacing; Spike was fairly certain he loosened slivers of wood from the floorboards. Needless to say, he arrived at work the next day exhausted and hungover.

Wednesday had many things in common with its predecessor that week. On Wednesday, Spike cleaned the halls and offices at the high school from two o'clock to five thirty, and the entire process was spent looking over his shoulder. He checked around corners, in classrooms and bathroom stalls, half expecting- half hoping -for Buffy to pop up like some Jack in a box. Scared and thrilled over the possibility, it was enlightening to know he wasn't completely insane to think she might.

Even though she didn't.

He drank Wednesday evening, knowing very well what Thursday would bring, and having a need to calm his shaking fingers. A few beers this time. One full pack of cigarettes emptied.

He listened hard to inner fears and desires, like a shadow devil and Hope bitching with each other on his shoulders. Spike knew he couldn't give this chance up. He knew it. The winds had changed, dropping opportunity into his lap. Into his greedy hands. And he was terrified of reaching out.

A thousand reasons, some real and tangible to the mind, others mere sensation, urged that shadow living was safer. Except Spike realized he wasn't capable of it, wasn't wired to tell her no. He was unwilling to hide when Buffy hoped they would see each other again.

Hearing Buffy say that to him was an answered prayer he was still having trouble believing. His constant for so long had been her. Loving her, watching her, ducking behind trees so she wouldn't see him. Hate would quickly replace invitation if she ever knew.

The girl would run, and he would be scum to her. He would become a source of fear. Buffy was everything to Spike; the very idea she could hate him made him sick.

Slipping up was not an option.

In those moments when he could hardly believe Buffy was in front of him, Spike didn't think saying too much posed a problem. It was how she made him feel... real, and alive, like a man worthy of her attention, that concerned him. His tongue might tangle with anxiety, but at least it would keep him from confessing things better left unsaid.

Spike had never demanded or pursued the chances he now held. Never tried to touch what he knew was out of reach, for fear of losing the very person who meant the most to him. Desire remained unbearable, however, a constant echo behind his chest. Now, even if he got no more than a moment or two with her, Spike accepted that it was worth the tightrope walk. It was more than he'd had before, and he would not let greed or idiocy threaten it.

***

Buffy spent Wednesday in a much rosier frame of mind than the man headlining her thoughts.

For a while, anyway.

At the antique shop, she went on a sale sign mission, making three out of cardboard and printing flyers. She discounted all the furniture, and had several decent sales before closing up. Then, Buffy ordered an individual pizza and drove home.

Maybe it was the solitude, the lacking of real distraction. There was simply no song on the radio that could tell her how to do this job right, and little advice to relieve the fear she still experienced. Nervous energy and unacknowledged self doubt flickered inside her like a dying light bulb. Confidence came in spurts, too, but quickly dwindled to bare ash beds ideal for building up anxiety each time.

She had yet to meet with a single student, and Buffy was nearly positive tomorrow would bear no change.

Almost without conscious thought, or perhaps in a striving effort to remain somewhat sure of herself, William's kind words repeated in her overactive mind. They made her smile long enough that Buffy didn't completely dread tomorrow. As a matter of fact, when she thought about running into him again, maybe not so accidentally this time, she was truly happy. Fear and anxiety misplaced for the time being.

It wasn't until Buffy went to bed Wednesday night, counting off things better left worried about in the morning, and how long she should stay after hours in order to see William again, that she realized she had a good old fashioned crush on the man.

***

Thursday morning, she rushed to work, nearly tripping over Tabitha several times who insisted on rubbing against Buffy's ankles. Needless to say, after that the animal spent a good while on her shoulder as she picked out appropriate attire, dabbed concealer under her eyes, and guzzled coffee like a truck driver on a time crunch.

Trying desperately hard not to be late on her second day, Buffy ran stop signs along the way to the school, hoping people were on guard. She made it in one piece and without incident, which Buffy knew had to be partially due to luck, but didn't dwell on it. She strode for the double doors that faced the parking lot and thanked her lucky stars that Robin suggested a starting time one hour later than everyone else's. Not only was it an extra sixty minutes of sleep, but it kept her out of the early crowd.

Buffy smoothed her tan business skirt and held her chin high, a smile plastered on her face for no one's benefit but her own. The joy was not fake, but the nerves hidden behind it were also very real.

*The sooner I get used to this, the better,* Buffy decided, a groan subdued in her throat. She made it to her office without running into a single person, and quickly opened the door... then sighed upon realizing she had left it unlocked. Since Monday.

This time, Buffy did groan, but soon tossed the annoyance aside. Determined not to leave her office looking like an impenetrable fortress today, she left the door open. Behind her, there was dead quiet in the halls, and she knew a bell would break it. Teenagers would file out, rushing from room to room, stopping at lockers, deciding the best ways to while away their free periods.

She hoped at least one would find the courage to enter her office.

A sudden knock jerked Buffy from her thoughts. She found a man standing in the doorway, no student surely, but there was a kind of welcome in his eyes that mirrored the one in his friendly smile. "Hi there," he said. "You must be Buffy Summers."

She frowned suddenly, but then wondered why she was even surprised he knew her name. Honestly, Robin made it clear he had told the entire school about her. That was bound to include people she hadn't met yet, despite it being a small town. "Yeah, that's me." She smiled hesitantly when he stepped into the room. "I don't think I-"

"I'm Roger, Principal Wood's assistant." He shrugged his broad shoulders, a shirt of blue plaid rising and falling.

"Oh. Nice to meet you." Buffy watched him comb fingers down one sideburn, brown hair and brown eyes complimenting a gentleman's countenance. He wore a dark blue tie and black loafers with black pants. She noted the tan belt with some disappointment, because all in all the outfit was good minus that accessory. His hands came together in front of the buckle like he truly considered patience to be a virtue.

"I wanted to introduce myself," he said. "Robin told me to make sure you know that if you need anything, I'm at your disposal, and right next door."

She nodded, smiling openly on a sigh of relief. "Thanks."

"Of course." His hands broke apart, and he moved further into the room. "So, Robin mentioned... you're a little uneasy about this job."

Buffy's eyes widened, startled, embarrassed. She looked down and leaned against her desk. "Um, kinda." She found the nerve to raise her head, speaking as offhandedly as possible. "But I'm sure once I, ya know, get into the swing of things I'll... I'll be fine."

He nodded encouragingly. "I'm sure you will. Believe me, working with teenagers seems daunting until you realize all you have to do is talk to them."

Buffy thought listening wasn't such a bad method, either. "Right." She smiled tightly.

Roger grinned in return, and took the necessary steps backward to meet with the door. Before he walked out, he rested one hip against the frame and snapped his fingers, as if suddenly remembering something. "Hey, you know Robin's going to be out until Monday, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah, he told me." She wouldn't return before then, so as long as today didn't hold any catastrophes, Buffy figured the principal's absence mattered little. Still, Roger was kind to let her know.

"Okay, just making sure." The man inclined his head in farewell, and then she was alone again. Buffy finally sat down. She started going through the pamphlets and other silly things she'd left here, wishing she could just throw half of them away.

Reluctantly, she settled for burying them in a drawer.

The quiet fell around her like a pancake on a plate, soft, flat, and for some reason reminding Buffy of what little she'd eaten this morning. When you were running late, and nervous to get where you were going, it was hard to stomach much. If today went by anything like Monday- minus the nap -the lack of activity wouldn't encourage these hours to dwindle any faster.

Squinting accusation at the clock above the door, Buffy put her chin in one hand. She slouched, wondering how on Earth she was supposed to help anyone if nobody came to see her. Sure, it was only five minutes into the second day, but not even a hint of a visitor on her first didn't do much for a woman's sense of purpose.

Buffy sat up, hit by a sudden realization that while she'd slept away that last hour on Monday, anyone could have opened her office door and peeked in. Any student might have sought her out, to talk, to listen, and she'd been dead to the world.

*Crap.* The notion made her feel about as responsible as a toddler. It was all too possible she would have woken up if someone actually entered her office, or knocked on the door; hell, the moment William stepped inside, her eyes popped right open. Except Buffy knew she had slept soundly through at least two school bells, and crowds walking through the halls, which likely meant she was too tired to be roused by anything until William found her long after the day was done.

She was the worst guidance counselor ever. And she had barely even started! Any newfound confidence Buffy might have scrounged up over the last couple days evaporated in seconds, and she hung her head.

Perhaps if she were more proactive about this, students would take a chance on her. An appointment signup sheet outside the office might encourage them, right? Then they would at least see that she was trying.

Or would a signup sheet seem too impersonal? Maybe she could talk to the teachers, ask them to remind their students that everyone was welcome to simply drop in. Buffy was fairly certain she knew all of the staff; Robin's assistant had been a surprise unexpected.

Elbows on the desk, in the middle of a sigh, Buffy raised her head when another knock struck. A young man stood in her doorway. A student. He didn't look much older than sixteen, and he carried a backpack over one shoulder. Buffy immediately sat up. "Hi."

He didn't reply, rather, he looked around her office cautiously, like the walls or the desk may bite. "Hi. I'm- I'm Jack." He shuffled his feet, gaze shifting to and fro.

She tilted her head, trying to slip on a serene expression, all the while fighting to control the excitement in her stomach. "I'm Buffy- Buffy Summers, I mean. It's nice to meet you." She cursed the urge to be casual, but couldn't damn it completely. She knew one thing if she knew nothing else about teenagers, and that was they usually hated formalities.

The boy's fingers worked nervously at his side, his other pale hand gripping the strap of his backpack and readjusting it. "I don't know if I need an appointment or something. If I do I'll make one, but I just thought-" He cut himself off, a tight shrug filling in the blanks. "I figured I should find out, at least."

She practically flew from her seat. "No, not at all. No appointment needed. It's not like I'm busy or anything." She searched the room, almost shouting in triumph when she spotted a neglected chair in the corner, adjacent to the door. "Here," she speedily positioned it in front of her desk. "Have a seat."

Jack hesitated before doing as she said, crossing the threshold with his gaze pinned to the middle, not looking down, not looking up, and not quite meeting hers. Buffy walked around the desk after the door was halfway shut, and they faced each other. She noted he was a good several inches taller without her boots added into the equation. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Well, I-" Another shrug broke his own sentence. Jack's mouth tightened, sighing, one hand gripping his backpack for dear life. "Principal Wood made an announcement the other day. He told everyone there was a new guidance counselor on duty, and that you were real easy to talk to." His voice was controlled, neither quiet nor loud. Frowning gray eyes barely collided with Buffy's own, but she could read him well enough, whether Jack knew it or not. "I think he wants to get everyone to come see you eventually."

She thought back to moments earlier, and relief filled her chest. Ideas and plausible courses of action weren't necessary then. Robin wanted students to open up and talk to somebody just as much as Buffy wanted to help; he took care of nearly everything, he had encouraged them. He'd given this boy a reason to seek her out.

Buffy felt determination fuel confidence, and straightened her shoulders. "I hope most of them will. I'm here to help."

"That's what Principal Wood told us." Jack stopped abruptly. Buffy watched him curiously for a minute, taking in the attire of dark jeans and a heavy brown turtleneck that was too big on him. His hair was short and jet black, face thinner than most boys his age. There was hardly any fat around his cheeks, and little color to supplement.

She made a guess he wasn't going to continue. Whatever he'd obviously stopped himself from saying must have kick-started silence. Buffy hedged carefully with her prompting. "So, is there something you want to talk about?"

Jack could have said a thousand things. Girl troubles, grades, a problem with a specific teacher. Anything. Buffy was smart enough to expect something a bit more atypical, and sure enough, when the silence lent Jack enough courage to speak again, he came back with something truly unexpected. "I know you own a store... in town."

She gave him a nod. "I do."

"Well, I was wondering... I have a free period, so I thought I'd ask you now." His shoulders lifted and fell tightly. "Would you want any help there? Like, are you looking to hire anyone?"

Spun for a loop, Buffy blinked, her jaw falling open. "Um. I was... but only during school hours." His eyes fell, but not before the anxious light in them went out completely. "You're looking for a job?"

Jack nodded. "I need some extra cash. My aunt isn't... She, uh, hurt her knee a week ago, and she can't really work right now, except for some online stuff. But it doesn't pay as well as her other job, and while she's getting better I thought I should look for something."

"To help out." Buffy smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry, but the only help I really need over there is someone who can work on Monday and Thursday mornings... when I'm here." His morose nod of understanding made her chest ache.

Standing, Jack looked more than ready to leave. He'd asked for a handout, something he loathed to do, and it had gotten him nowhere. Sure, it was a request for work, not charity, but it still left him feeling about two inches tall, and Jack just wanted to forget the whole thing.

Buffy took great pleasure in ruining his exit. "Hey, this doesn't mean I can't still help you find a job."

The boy froze, peering over his shoulder. "What?"

"I have a friend who's always looking for part time workers. If you're interested, I'll give him a call."

When Jack turned around, and neglected to ask what kind of work her friend did, Buffy knew he was willing to take anything. "Really?" the boy asked quickly, "You- You'd do that?"

"My friend Xander Harris works in construction," she explained. "I bet I can arrange something." As long as he was willing to follow orders, which Buffy was certain Jack would, and wear a hard hat, she couldn't think of a good enough reason Xander might actually say no.

Jack was beyond grateful. "I would re- really appreciate that, Ms. Summers."

She smiled. "No problem. If you come see me at the end of the day, I bet I'll have an answer for you. If not, then by Monday for sure."

Jack took his final steps to the door and thanked her three times, smiling shyly but brightly, and Buffy picked up the phone the moment he left. If it took all day and begging, even if Xander couldn't provide anything for him right now, she would find a job opening. She would find something if it killed her.

***

The day fell to a close after Buffy had seen and talked with three more kids. Following Jack, came Penny, who mainly wanted to talk about how exciting it was that Buffy was their new guidance counselor. After her, a girl in the school's theater program stopped by, named Felicity, who needed advice regarding getting more people interested in the performing arts.

After all, who could put on The Wizard of Oz with no one to play Dorothy? After spending a good hour brainstorming ideas with the girl, Buffy's fourth and final visitor arrived. He was a boy named Nick, who was having trouble finding a tutor in English. Fortunately for him, Penny was a wiz in that department, and Buffy knew it. She suggested he seek the fellow student out, pretty certain Penny would just jump at the chance to tutor the star of the school's swim team.

The day soon developed a thick overcoat of success, filling Buffy's chest with thrilling pride. Sure, she had been blessed with a group of fairly easygoing kids, but the quick and precise disposal of their problems lent a dollop of giddiness to her smile when she answered the phone just after two o'clock. "Hello?"

"Buffy?"

"Xander! Did you get my message?"

A pause, then a chuckle playing in her ear. "Uh, yeah. Anya told me before I listened to the one you left on my voicemail, and the one on the house phone. Then, her mother informed me I shouldn't bother having a phone if I'm never going to answer it. You really want to get this mystery kid a job, huh?"

So she had been excessively proactive in contacting him. Buffy didn't feel an ounce of guilt over it, but she still apologized briefly for the mother-in-law thing. "Sorry about that..."

"It's okay. I eat pees and the woman judges me. Nothing unusual. So, gift me with the details on this student looking for work."

Buffy tried not to laugh. "His name is Jack, and he seems like he'll be a good worker. I think he's willing to do whatever you ask, and he really needs a job."

"Yeah, I got that." On the other end, Xander rolled his eyes good naturedly. "How old is he?"

"Sixteen." She double checked his file earlier just to be sure.

"He's a high schooler?"

"Yeah. He came in today, actually asked me if I was hiring at the store, but he couldn't work doing school hours, obviously, and I just need somebody for when I'm here. So when I said no... Well, I just thought you might have something open. It looks like his aunt is his legal guardian, and she recently hurt her knee so she can't work and-"

"Buffy!" Xander cut into her hectic explanation. "I think I have a spot for him. It's not much, but if he doesn't mind coming in for an interview later, I'm sure he can start on Monday."

Buffy beamed. "After school hours, right?"

"Yeah. It'll probably be from three o'clock, to seven or eight. Possibly weekends. I'm not sure yet. Do you think he's willing to work on Saturdays?"

Buffy didn't hesitate. "I think he's willing to take anything he can get, to tell you the truth. You should've seen his face when I told him I couldn't hire him."

"Okay. Send him over to the site- You remember where it is?"

She rolled her eyes. "Totally, Xand."

"Cool. Tell him he can come by anytime today."

A huge breath left her lungs. "Thank you, Xander. So much. I owe you."

"Don't worry about it," her friend replied affably. "Just tell him to watch his head when he stops by. Don't need the kid getting knocked unconscious or something before he even starts workin' for me."

Buffy thought back, snickering into the phone. "I really don't think everyone is as head trauma prone as Giles, Xand."

"Yeah, still, I learned a valuable lesson from that guy. Never let anyone, especially civilians, go without hardhats."

"I'll be sure to warn him."

The conversation soon fell to a close, casual niceties exchanged before Buffy thanked him twice more and dropped the phone into its cradle. She pulled her arms behind her in a stretch and smiled at the ceiling, rolling backward with the chair and spinning around in one big circle.

Buffy stuck her foot out and paused her motions, a boot heel connecting with the side of her desk. A knock rapped against the door. "Come in!" She sat up and immediately, her smile turned wholesome when she saw Jack standing in the doorway, looking worried and flushed. He must have run here from his locker, because there were still tons of kids milling about in the halls and leaving their final classes.

Buffy folded her arms on the desk, and with brilliancy said, "You've got an interview, Jack."

***

It was after two o'clock, and Spike was running late.

There were a couple reasons why this situation should feel less dismaying than it did. One, the boss wasn't in until Monday, which likely meant Spike would receive a scolding from Wood's idiotic assistant, and pissing off Roger was actually a decent source of amusement for him. The git had no personality. Too uptight.

Two, if Spike was late, most people would have left by the time he did arrive. Small mercies, and all that.

However, if someone were to look in on his hectic search for his car keys right now, it would be more than obvious Spike wasn't counting his blessings.

Couch cushions were flipped onto the floor, every cabinet in the kitchen thrown open, and his bedroom torn apart. Anywhere he looked, and no matter how many times he sifted through the pockets of his laundry, Spike came up empty handed. There were very few places he could have set the damn things, and it wasn't exactly a small set. He was a janitor, for Christ's sake.

Even if he wanted to drive the bike, the key for that was on the same chain as every other bloody one he owned. Spike never lost his keys- Well, okay, occasionally, but there were only so many opportunities.

Of course, the past two nights he'd been fairly inebriated, so Spike admitted he could have misplaced them easily enough. He remembered having the set yesterday, walking in the house with them jangling in his coat pocket.

After hanging his duster in the foyer, he set them on the counter in the kitchen.

They weren't in the kitchen now. They weren't on the floor, in a cabinet, hidden somewhere along the marble countertops, or even in the garbage. He had searched the room from top to bottom.

Spike slammed his hand down on a sturdy wooden table, cursing, calling himself an idiot with three different insults. He couldn't remember what else he'd done last night. Those few beers didn't blur the memory so much, but his emotions had, and Spike was about ready to call it a loss and just fucking walk to the school. It would take longer, but at least he'd get there.

At least he'd still have a chance to see Buffy.

Parts of him counseled against the possibility. Parts of him said he was a fool to believe she actually enjoyed their short time spent together on Monday. Parts of him argued that this situation was sure to go up in flames. Parts of him were scared.

Other parts ceased to care.

"Where the hell did I put them?" he muttered harshly. Then, like a flame snapping to life on a match, Spike rose his head and bolted from the kitchen.

He sped all the way up the stairs, down a long hallway, in the opposite direction of his bedroom, to a large imposing door clear on the other side of the house. It was closed tight, as he'd left it, and beneath the doorknob hung his keys.

Spike quickly yanked them free and relocked the room, stuffing the metal set into his back pocket. It was just under a minute when he hopped in his car and drove off, his uniform thrown haphazardly across the backseat.
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