by Kate

Sleep was hard to come by these days. A ghost shrieked in the attic, screaming of lost love and abandoned wedding dresses. People were constantly entering and exiting and slamming the front door, arms full of books and scrolls and amulets.

All around, people talked and whispered and phoned up and typed and tried to rebuild a network that had been lost. Sleep could be had, but the noisy bustle of the Watchers Council (Reformed) kept most awake at night, if they weren't awake already.

Oz burrowed deeper under the covers, snuggling against Giles' warm body, and blissfully continued dreaming.