"Do you think they will ever have recognizable food in this cafeteria, or will it always be this shapeless, green gunk?" Xander picked at the lumps on his tray with a decided lack of enthusiasm. Across the table, Buffy and Willow warily sipped from their juice boxes.

"The real question is," Willow replied, "will that gunk ever decompose, or will it still remain in its current state until our sun explodes, and our planet is consumed by the intense heat?"

Buffy glanced at her friend with a raised eyebrow. "Don't get all apocalyptic on us now, Will. We haven't even had Algebra class yet. Speaking of which, do you think Mr. Bailey would mind if my homework isn't done yet?"

Xander snorted. "That depends. Has he been slipped some drug that causes a mass delusional state? 'Cause that could really come in handy."

Buffy stuck out her tongue in response.

"No, I'm serious," he continued. "And it would explain a lot. Like all those equations he keeps putting on the blackboard."

Willow nodded towards the far corner of the cafeteria. "Who's that?"

Xander and Buffy turned to follow her nod, and saw a young girl sitting by herself, head down. She was dressed fashionably enough, but her hair looked like she had been rushed out the door that morning, the strands hanging limply from her head.

"That's the new girl, Julie." Xander tapped his head in an attempt to draw more information from it. "She started last week. We've got Algebra with her."

"This is just a shot in the dark," said Buffy. "But I'm guessing she's..."

"Quiet? You betcha." Xander lowered his voice. "I heard she's got problems."

"Problems?" Buffy grabbed his arm. "What problems?"

"Well, I..."

Willow grabbed his other arm. "You heard? From who?"

"Look, it's... I..."

Buffy shared a look with her best friend. "Will, what say we pull this gossip-hound limb from limb?"

Willow grinned. "Oh, like a wishbone? I always wondered where that got started."

Xander yanked his arms back to his own body. "Yeah, well, let's not try to finish it with me, okay? I don't know what problems, or if there are problems, or whatever. Quiet girls just seem to have things going on, you know?"

Willow's grin slipped slightly. "Buffy, when you met me, was I a quiet girl?"

Buffy took her friend's hand sympathetically. "But you're much better now. Really."

"What's wrong with being quiet?" Willow's voice became frantic. "Huh?"

Across the cafeteria, Julie Marshall sat with her head down, eyes open, staring at the bland yellow tabletop. It was better than allowing her eyes to close, because what she saw projected on the moviescreen eyelids was painful and terrifying. The simple act of blinking created a split-second of dread in her heart, because it was like catching a grotesque flash card out of the corner of your eye. She stared at the yellow and wondered if a person could die just from wanting to.

The pencil hovered for an awe-inspiring moment on the edge of weightlessness, balanced precariously on the tip of Xander's finger, before succumbing to the inevitable, tipping over to the left, dropping to the desk, skipping off and down to the floor, rattling quietly as it rolled across the aisle, bumping up against Julie's shoe, where it finally found peace.

"Xander?" Mr. Bailey's voice cut through the ropy silence with a twang. "You aren't demonstrating the extent of your boredom, perchance?"

Irrational fear enlarged Xander's pupils to the breaking point. "Ah, no, sir, I was just testing the theory of inertia. With my pencil. And the floor. Sir."

"Indeed. It was my impression, Mr. Harris, that your mind is living proof of the theory of inertia. However, let us test that, hmmm? How about joining me up here at the blackboard?"

Xander sighed, tossed Buffy and Willow a glance, got up and walked to the front of the class, where Mr. Bailey was waiting with the pink chalk.

"Oh, sir, pink? Isn't there..." Xander trailed off as the teacher's stare bored into his skull.

"Let's talk about binomials, shall we? Can you solve this equation?"

As Xander examined the chicken-scratches on the blackboard, Buffy watched Julie, wondering if she was ever going to pick up Xander's pencil, which was still right beside her foot. Julie's gaze was rigidly focused on the teacher, and Buffy realized that when Xander was caught fooling around, Julie never once glanced towards Xander.

"Willow," she whispered.

"What?"

"Check out Julie."

They sat silently for a couple of minutes, watching the new girl. Xander was still struggling at the front of the classroom. Finally Mr. Bailey had enough.

"Sit down, Mr. Harris. Perhaps we can find someone else who actually did last night's homework, hmmm?"

Xander returned to his seat, aiming a smile towards Julie. When she didn't respond, his smile flipped over. He sat down, realized his pencil was still on the floor, reached down, and grabbed the worn-out writing tool, nearly tipping his desk right over in the process. Buffy and Willow watched all this with unconcealed interest.

"Julie?" whispered Xander. He waited for her to glance his way, but she made no such move. "Sorry."

A moment passed, and then she tilted her head slightly to look at the young man. Buffy and Willow gasped. Xander blinked. Julie returned her gaze to the front of the classroom. Xander felt a liquid chill down his spine in response to the naked fear he saw in Julie's eyes.

"What was that all about?" Willow asked, twirling a ballpoint pen in her left hand.

"What was what all about?" asked Cordelia, who had just entered the library. She sat down beside Xander, giving him an expectant look.

"Have you met the new girl, Julie?" Xander asked.

Cordelia's gaze flew up to the ceiling. "Julie, Julie, Julie... Oh yeah, I've seen her. She could look so much better if she would remember to use conditioner as well as shampoo in the mornings What about her?"

"She had this rabbit-caught-in-the-headlights look in her eyes," Willow replied. "Like she was expecting to die that very second."

"Uh-huh. And we're familiar with that look because…?"

Xander coughed. "Well, Cordy, all of us at one time or another have had that look in our eyes. Even you. Although in your case, that look was in response to your fear that vampires were going to steal your car."

Cordelia gives him a go-away-dork glare that shrinks him further into his chair.

Willow shook her head. "So what do you think it is? Demon possession? Stalking vampires? Supernatural infestations?"

Giles emerges from his library office. "Ah, I see we are, um, talking 'shop'. What manner of demonic forces are we up against today?"

Buffy turns to her Watcher. "The new girl, Julie, has got this way-weirded out look, like she's too scared to breathe."

"Hmmm. Has anyone attempted to talk to her, to... to ascertain what is frightening her?"

"Oh, well..."

"You know, I..."

"That would..."

Giles smiled. "I suspect Sherlock Holmes' title as the world's greatest detective is safe for another generation."

"Hey," Buffy retorted, "check the job description, Watson. 'Slayer'. Remember? I'm the person you call when you know who the bad guys are."

"Still, your responsibilities as Slayer also include..."

"Augh! If I hear that word 'responsibility' once more, I'm going to get real frisky with a stake." Buffy and Giles' eyes met; fire flashed between their gazes. Giles relented.

"Right," Giles said, clearing his throat. "Well, Willow, perhaps you can find out more about this girl Julie. Xander and Cordelia... stay out of Willow's way."

Cordelia tugged on Xander's arm, leading him out of the library. "He's still got a bit of a learning curve to overcome on that one."

Xander protested, "But I can help, I'm sure I can, I don't want to be the Shaggy in the Scooby gang!" His voice faded behind the closing door.

Buffy followed Willow to the computer terminal. "Find out her address, Will; I'll stake it out."

Willow snickered. "'Stake it out'? Do you think the house is undead?" Buffy's face remained expressionless. "Come on, that's at least as funny as anything Xander says."

Giles blinked. "I'm not sure that is a goal you want to set for yourself, Willow. Still, no one has offered to talk to the girl... Buffy?"

Willow spoke before Buffy could draw a breath. "Maybe I should talk to her. One quiet girl to another, right?"

Julie opened the front school doors into a depressingly sunny day. There is such a thing as too much perfect weather, she thought. The bright rays poured down onto the whispering leaves and lush green grass. She felt weighed down. She took a step, her foot encased in lead. This was going to take a while. Slowly her ears picked up a faint tapping sound that grew louder and louder until...

"Uh, oh, hey, Julie!" Willow said after bursting through the doors. She gulped some air to help catch her breath. "I don't know that we've been introduced. My name's Willow."

Julie stared blankly at Willow's face, barely breathing.

Willow rushed on, unfazed. "And your name's Julie. Are you walking home? 'Cause maybe my house is in that direction."

Julie started off down the sidewalk, taking Willow by surprise. She took a couple of quick steps to catch up. They walked in silence for a few minutes, Julie's eyes locked on the cement sidewalk, Willow's eyes grabbing a glimpse of Buffy following them at a discreet distance.

Finally Willow couldn't stand it any more.

"I remember when I first started high school. If it wasn't for my friend Xander, I don't think I talked to anybody for the first month. All the new faces, all the old ones, but we were older, like there was this distance that had opened up during the summer between grade school and high school." Willow waited for a response that didn't come. She forged on. "My friends think I'm a quiet girl. I don't say much around people that aren't my friends, but you know what? I don't say much because I've got so much in my head that I want to say, I would drown everybody in words. So I keep most of it to myself. Sometimes I tell Oz, he's my boyfriend, some of those things, but it's hard. Knowing things that make you excited... or scared. It's hard to just tell somebody because you don't know if they will share your feelings and understand. You know?"

Julie nodded slightly, which brought a big grin to Willow's face.

"Well, I just want you to know that if you need to tell somebody, I'll be here, 'cause I'll understand. Okay?"

Julie nodded again, then brought her eyes up to meet Willow's. The strength of the fear in those eyes was enough to make the redhead step back. And, for the first time, Julie spoke.

"Can a person die just by wishing it?"

The question froze Willow in her tracks, and she felt her throat dry up like a tarmac in the summer heat.

"What do you mean?"

Julie's eyes filled with tears, and she whimpered softly. Before Willow could make a move, Julie ran off down the street at full speed.

"Julie!"

The girl turned the corner, and Willow lost her. Suddenly Buffy was at her friend's side.

"What did she say?"

Willow found that her jaw was still hanging down like a spring had come loose. She waved ineffectually down the street.

"She asked me if a person could die just by wishing it. Buffy, what do you think she meant?"

Buffy started jogging in pursuit. She said over her shoulder, "I don't know, but I'll find out!"

The front door wasn't completely closed; there was enough space for a finger to slip through. Her finger. Which was shaking. The porch had seemed a mile long, and now the thundering hooves behind her ears were rattling her entire body. She reached out her left hand, touching the doorknob warily, as if it might burn her.

"Goddamn!"

She jerked at the sound, pushing the door open involuntarily. She knew that voice. It was the voice she heard every night; it was the voice she heard in her dreams. Through the doorway, she could see into the kitchen, where her skinny rail of a father was sitting at the table, nursing a beer. For a few moments, he was unaware of her presence, and she watched him, her senses trying to draw out the solution to a puzzle seventeen years old. His shirt and tie were sweaty and worn with casual exhaustion; his dress pants were immaculate and wrinkle-free; his black shoes shined dully in the phosphorescent light. In the hand that wasn't holding the beer, a tabloid newspaper screamed lurid headlines.

Her father's head turned.

"Julie! Damn it, girl, I've been home ten minutes, and there aren't any chips in the cupboard! Get in here and cook me something."

Her feet rebelled quietly, wanting her to stand still.

"Well? The door's open."

It was a short rebellion. Julie could feel her conscious mind, the one that she thought with, dreamed with, hoped with... She felt it retreat further into the shadows with a knowing grimace.

The teenager came into the house, dropped her stuff in the hall closet, and entered the kitchen.

"Don't got time to roast something, Jules, just fry a steak up."

She rummaged in the freezer for a steak, and found one buried underneath a box of chicken nuggets. A hand suddenly touched her right hip in a very familiar manner, caressing and rubbing. She froze. The hand moved up, the hot breath on her neck prickling her skin.

The demon had finally shown his face.

The demon was ready to play.

"So what did you find out? Anything?" Xander crunched on an apple, juices running down his chin. Buffy felt the sudden urge to lick them off, and blinked in surprise.

I need to start dating again, she thought.

"Julie doesn't go out much. Or ever. After she ran from Willow, Julie went home and stayed there 'til bedtime."

"Did you look in the windows?"

"All the curtains were drawn. I didn't hear anything, I didn't meet up with any vampires, and the only thing I fought was total boredom. So all in all, I would have had more fun studying algebra."

"But that is fun," chirped Willow. "Or at least, it is in my world."

"Well, Giles," said Buffy with a yawn, "are there any supernatural forces massing in Sunnydale this week?"

Giles looked up from one of his eternally dusty books. "Ah, um, not as such, although next month looks promising, what with the anniversary of the birth of Vlad Dracul. That's always a 'hoot' among the undead."

"Dracula?" inquired Xander. "The Dracula? Bela Lugosi, blah, blah, I vant to suck your blood? He was really a vampire?"

"Actually, no, he wasn't. Bram Stoker was remarkably misinformed, although one of the Watcher diaries from Vlad's time period suggests that while Vlad was human, his right-hand man was not."

Buffy cleared her throat. "Yeah, well, too bad for Bram, but does this have anything to do with Julie?"

"Uh, well, no, not really."

"Great, so it's another rerun of 'Forehead Meets Brick Wall'."

"I love that show," said Xander.

The average high school hallway is lined with lockers on both sides, featureless and uniformly dull. Within each locker, you will find various textbooks, notepads, and uniquely personal items put there to give it a 'home away from home' look. Really, it all resembles the typical suburban block of townhouses, with little to set one apart from the other aside from obscurely placed numbers. Julie reached slowly for the combination lock, her hand blurry with sleep. After a couple of tries, she managed to dial the correct combo, and pulled open the door.

The interior of the locker was barren; no textbooks or notepads, no personal items like a small stuffed animal or a mirror, no little signs on the walls, no pictures of friends. The rear wall of the locker was hidden in the murky darkness. It seemed to Julie that light wasn't allowed to penetrate the threshold, and when she tentatively stuck her hand inside, her fingers disappeared into the black like a velvet glove. Around her, the usual dysfunctional bustle of her fellow students, each one headed in a different direction, each one with people to talk to, places to go, lockers without shadows. Julie's locker was a shadow. She squinted; what was that on the horizon? Peering into the black, she recoiled suddenly.

Have you forgotten the face of your father?

No, not that, surely, not ever.

Never.

She closed her eyes in a vain attempt to shut out the chilling vision, and the face was still there, grinning like a demented circus clown. She whimpered softly.

A hand fell on her shoulder.

It was all she could do not to scream aloud.

"Julie?"

Her mind raced to match the voice with a name. The face still captured her attention, and she was afraid that if she opened her eyes, the body that came with the face would pull itself out of her locker and...

Willow.

Julie opened her eyes. The face was gone. She turned quickly.

"Hi, Willow."

Willow smiled, burying the misgivings and doubts that arose as soon as she looked into Julie's eyes. Was that her own face she was seeing as a reflection, or ...?

"Hey, what are you doing tonight? 'Cause my friends, we like to go to the Bronze sometimes just to hang out. And after a few Cokes, we get jittery enough to dance, too."

Julie couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. "Hang out? With me?"

"Yeah, why not? We quiet girls have to have some fun now and then, you know."

"Oh, well. I think maybe I might be grounded."

"Oh... that happens. If you can make it, though, we'll be there, me and Buffy, Xander and… probably not Cordelia, she's still got a mental block about being seen in public with us, but it'll be fun, I promise."

"I'll try. Thanks."

Willow's smile grew wider. "No problem. See you later!" She walked away, a slight spring in her step. Julie felt a crushing wave of envy, endured it for the fleeting moment that it lasted, and moved on. Willow's invitation tugged at her heart, but Julie could remember easily what happened the last time she went out.

Not again. Please, not again.

"You know, even if Julie's just a shy person, and that's all, I'm glad that we're making the effort to bring her out of her shell." Willow spoke to the computer screen, but her intended audience, Buffy Summers, heard her friend just fine.

"I suppose. But we have to be careful. Oz found out about our deal here because there wasn't any way around it, but... The less people who find out about the Sunnydale High School Slayer Club, the better."

Willow paused at the keyboard, reflecting on what Buffy just said. "So, really, our little group of friends has to stay little, doesn't it? Because we know your secret, our choices are limited, too."

Buffy put her arm around her best friend and grimaced slightly.

"Sorry, Will. Forgot to put that in the brochure. Still, we do what we can, right?"

Willow nodded. "Right." She tapped a couple of keys and made an interested noise.

"What?"

"According to Julie's school record, she's moved ten times in the last four years. No wonder she has a hard time making friends."

"Her school record," Buffy said flatly. "Willow, is there any information safe from you?"

"Oh, well, that would depend on the amount of chocolate used as a bribe."

"I'm tapped, Hershey-babe. But keep looking. Don't let my pesky morals get in the way of your investigation."

Xander sat at a table in the Bronze, idly wondering if he could swing from rafter to rafter without killing himself. Occasionally, he would swing his attention around the club, looking for his friends, or worse yet, his 'girlfriend'. Cordelia. Now there was a problem, no doubt about it. Can't spend five minutes together without tearing each other apart, but the other side of the story... well, that wasn't anything to complain about.

I won't be surprised if she doesn't show. I won't be disappointed, either. Right. He grinned ruefully. Can't fool yourself all of the time. For a few moments, Xander allowed himself to ponder his situation: he had a sizeable crush on Buffy, one that had developed pretty much from the first time he saw her; Buffy sees him as a friend, and nothing more; Cordelia comes along, they kiss, but what is it? Is it the same thing he feels for Buffy?

He looked up at the rafters again.

What is love, anyway? What is that clenching of your guts when your ladylove walks into the room? What is that sudden spike of fear that comes when she says goodbye, like you think that maybe this might be the final goodbye, you just never know, how can you...

"Just never know what?"

Xander nearly fell off his stool - he grabbed the table just in time. "Cordelia. Was I… talking out loud?"

She sat down beside him. "Most people do. Although usually not to themselves." It wasn't three seconds after she sat down, Xander thought, before she was checking out the scene, looking for people she knew, looking for witnesses to this latest humiliation.

"It's okay, Cordelia, the 'Heather' clique left a half hour ago. I think I overheard them discussing plans to destroy yet another young man's ego with taunts, insults, and the occasional 'whatever'." Xander looked at her, trying to imagine an entire life with her at his side. He shuddered.

"Whatever. Where's the charity case? Does this qualify as community work? Because I still have fifteen hours left to serve on that low-speed collision that wasn't even my fault, he called me a name and I'm supposed to let that go." Her eyes continued to scan the crowd.

Xander sighed. "Cordy, the guy was on a bike. On the sidewalk. In a school zone."

"Whatever."

Buffy and Willow emerged from the camouflage crowd and sat down at their table.

Xander perked up. "Oh, hey, girls, how's the stalking going? Is Julie being hunted by your garden-variety Wal-Mart discount demon, or is there serious seventh-level of hell stuff involved?"

Buffy gave him a look, one of those looks that only women can throw at you, and afterwards, you feel small and vulnerable. It irritated Xander to no end.

"It's always about demons and hell with you," replied Buffy. "Do I sense a deep-rooted dark obsession here? Or maybe..." She looked significantly at Cordelia.

Willow jumped in. "We don't know what's going on with her yet. Aside from moving around a lot recently, she seems to be... well, a girl. That's quiet."

The demon was asleep on the living-room couch. She could smell the alcohol from across the room. She moved silently to the front door, and was just about to reach for the doorknob before remembering that these hinges liked to squeak at inconvenient moments. Julie pulled her hand away. The back door. Just had to sneak right by his sleeping carcass.
(why are you tempting him like this?)
No problem. Each step was taken with the tremendous care usually reserved for negotiating minefields; each step could cause the floorboard to creak, and then...

Disaster.

The living room was carpeted, which actually made it harder, since she couldn't see the cracks and joints of the wood. Fate. You had to trust something.
(who are these people to you, that you would risk everything?)
Passing between the couch and the television, she thought that risking the kitchen tile would have been a better bet. A demon's hand shot out and grasped her left leg, stopping all forward movement, stopping her breathing. She looked down into the drunken face of her father.
(have you forgotten the face of your father?)
His eyes were closed. His mouth was open. His voice was raspy with dehydration.

"Falling into… I'll have my day, little girl…" His grip slackened. Julie pulled her leg free and hurried out of the house, not bothering with such niceties as creaking floorboards and squeaky hinges; it was time to go.

(someone will pay for your pleasure)