XX

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up so peacefully. Resurrections aside, waking up most days felt too often like an escape from dreams – dreams of murdered slayers long gone, of old battles barely won, and of loved ones taken away. Mom. Giles. Tara. Anya…

Him.

But not this time.

She found herself drifting into consciousness on a cloud of quiet comfort. She felt warm and sinfully cozy under silk sheets. Burying her face in her pillow, she could detect only the faintest trace of his scent. She hated that about vampires – that their scents were so subtle. It was because they didn’t sweat, of course. But vampires could smell each other pretty easily, so they should’ve made Slayers able to smell them just as easily too. Stupid African shamans.

Buffy moaned as she stretched out her limbs as far as they could reach, before retracting into a ball under the covers. She was fully awake, but reluctant to get out of bed. It wasn’t everyday she felt so comfortable.

But he might be awake.

Sitting up suddenly, she noticed for the first time that she was wearing his shirt. Her heart began to flutter as she struggled to remember how she’d ended up wearing nothing but his clothes. Looking around the room, she noticed her own outfit thrown haphazardly around the floor. That was a very Buffy thing to do, she decided. She must have been half asleep when she’d changed.

Climbing out of the bed, she ran her fingers through her hair, whining quietly when her fingers got stuck. She really needed a haircut. She looked for a mirror in vain and pouted. Stupid vampires.

So she’d have to face him with bedhead. Fine. No biggie. Some guys thought that was hot anyway – not that she was trying to look hot or anything. Grabbing her clothes from the floor, she opened the sliding doors separating his bedroom from the main room and tried to sneak into the corner bathroom undetected. But one peek at the sofa told her she didn’t have to, as he was sound asleep – still as death, and just as quiet. Tiptoeing over to him, she let herself gaze.

She would never understand how such a beautiful face could hide such a ferocious demon. And his demon was that. But it shared his face with a soul whose purity she’d felt firsthand in the Hellmouth. Absently, she rubbed her scarred palm against her thigh.

She felt guilty that he’d given up his bed for her, though he looked comfortable enough on the sofa. The clock read two o’clock, so the sun would still be up for several hours. Since she was no longer in his bed, it seemed unfair to just leave him on the sofa.

As quietly as she could, she bent down in front of the sofa and scooped him up like a damsel. She giggled softly at the thought. Once in her arms, his head turned to nestle into her breast. Interesting. It was probably a lingering human reflex. He had a lot of those.

She let herself study him more intently now that he was so close and unaware. She couldn’t remember ever having had the freedom (or the courage) to look at him so closely. His lashes were long and dark against the pale, bluish skin beneath his eyes, and his cheekbones were still sharp, despite his slack expression. His forehead was long and smooth, elegant even. And his mouth…

She frowned suddenly at his face, as something occurred to her.

I’ve missed you.

It made her chest ache, the realization. It was one thing to deal with someone’s death. She’d dealt with his death like she had the others. You missed the dead differently, because there was a finality to their absence. You made a comfortable, pleasant place in your heart for them.

But he hadn’t been dead. He’d been in the world. And it was this sobering fact that made her now feel his previous absence more cruelly. It was a strange and unsettling feeling to her – missing someone even as you held him in your arms.

She couldn’t believe it had been so long since she’d seen him. How could it have been, when he didn’t seem at all out of place in her life now? It had been a major adjustment bringing Angel back into her life, getting used to him again. It definitely hadn’t been effortless. And in the end, it had been a complete and anticlimactic failure. But having Spike in her life, despite a forty-year absence, just seemed… natural.

Looking up towards the ceiling, she sighed quietly. She wanted him to stay. No, more than that. She wanted him to want to. But she knew that she’d never be in his apartment now, holding him in her arms, if he hadn’t bumped into her that night at Lakeview Cemetery. Literally. He’d never planned on seeing her again.

And she really couldn’t blame him.

It’s not like she’d ever been good to him, or kind. Her friends had begrudgingly tolerated him that last year in Sunnydale. Dawn had ignored him altogether. And Giles had literally tried to kill him. And her? One lame, hollow expression of feeling muttered just before he’d burned to death could never have been enough to bring him back to her. He hadn’t believed her, anyway.

No. She couldn’t blame him.

He started to stir slightly, as if uncomfortable, so she carried him to the bedroom and gently laid him down on the bed. Removing his blanket, she pulled the silk sheet and bedspread over him instead. On an impulse, she tucked him in on all sides, like her mother used to do, and finished her work with a soft peck on his forehead. It made her smile to channel her mother that way, and for someone that Mom had always liked.

Leaving him to sleep, Buffy made quick work of showering, but took slightly longer than usual to untangle her hair. She hated having to wear the same clothes again, but she didn’t have a choice. Her stomach growled violently as she finished dressing, but she had no choice there either. She needed to give the Slayers the latest intel on the Dragvloks, but at so early an hour, she decided it could wait until after a trip to the mall.

“Hey Kit,” she whispered as she approached the front door. “I’m leaving now, but don’t say anything like ‘Good bye, female’ or something, because you’ll wake him up. Okay?”

The computer lady didn’t answer her.

“Okay,” Buffy said with a nod, uncertain if the computer was awake or whatever. “Um, lock the door behind me.”

* * * * *

“Someone should really tell these guys that Slayers need to sleep during the day,” Stevie grumbled as she descended the stairs in her pajamas.

“So why don’t you?” Sonny countered. “Tell ‘em how the world is actually filled with vampires and witches and monsters and stuff, and that you’ve been chosen among all people to defeat them in your footy pajamas.”

Gina burst out laughing. She and Sonny had stationed themselves at the entrance of the kitchen, sipping glasses of milk, as they monitored the various renovation crews working noisily in the common room.

“You made me spill my milk, Sonny.”

“Well just don’t go crying over it.”

“So when are these guys gonna be done?” Stevie whined.

“Dang, Stevie. They just started today. Chill out, girl.”

“They are pretty noisy, Gina,” Sonny ceded.

“Yeah, well, I’d rather hear the bang of a hammer than bullet fire. Stuff is being built here instead of being torn down. We’re lucky we’re getting this place fixed up so quick.”

“Gina, that guy over there is staring at you,” Stevie murmured, her eyes on the crew at the front door.

“We know,” Sonny remarked with amusement. “He’s been staring at her since we came down.”


The ‘he’ in question was six feet six, with broad shoulders and a lean but athletic body. Light-skinned for a brotha’, he had hazel eyes to match, which meant he had to be a playa’ of the worst kind. Homegirls were suckers for a pair of light eyes.

“He needs to stop gawking and start mindin’ his business. They said they’d finish the front door by the end of the day.”

It was Stevie’s turn to laugh. “Gina, that guy is a tall drink of water if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Whatever.”

“Oh come on. When was the last time you went out on a date?”

“When was the last time you got a pop in the nose, Stevie?”

“Jesus, Gina. I’m just sayin’.”

“What? What are you sayin’?”

Stevie rolled her eyes. “That the guy is hot, Gina. That’s all. No one said you had to date him for goodness sake.”

Gina pushed herself off the door jam with one foot and made a beeline to the brotha’ at the front door.

He turned to face her immediately, having been watching her approach out of the corner of his eye. Grinning widely, he showed off a set of perfect, white teeth.

“What are you smiling at?” Gina asked wearily.

He chuckled lightly. “I think you know. I’m Richard. What’s your name?”

“Richard?”

“You don’t like Richard?”

“What do they call you?”

“What do you mean?”

What do the homeboys call you?”

“Huh?”

“Are you Little Ricky? Big Rick Dawg? Slick Rick?” She narrowed her eyes at his hazel ones. “You look like a Slick Rick to me.”

He seemed to be looking at her like she was crazy, and it was starting to piss her off.

“I hate to disappoint you, but the homeboys don’t call me anything. There aren’t a lot of those in Pasadena, I’m afraid.”

Gina pursed her lips in disapproval.

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

Her answer was a glare, accusatory and suspicious.

He was chuckling at her again. “What? Is it a state secret or something?” Looking over her shoulder, Richard called out to the girls across the room. “Hey! Can you tell me this girl’s name?”

“Gina!” Sonny and Stevie yelled back, clearly enjoying the show.

He chuckled again. “See. They like me. Why don’t you?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like you, Slick. But I’d appreciate it if you’d focus on your motha’ fuckin’ work and not on your customers while they’re tryin’ to enjoy their breakfast.”

He wouldn’t stop smiling with those pearly teeth of his. “It’s the middle of the afternoon, Gina. And you’re just drinking a glass of milk.”

“Don’t make me tell your boss, man.”

“That might be difficult – or amusing, rather – seeing as I am the boss.”

Gina gave him a disbelieving look. “Tell me another one, Slick.”

“Okay,” he said teasingly. “My father owns the renovation company and I run the crew, so I’m pretty sure that if you called my father in the office, he’d take my side in the matter.”

Gina frowned, before looking around the room at all the workers. “You’re the boss of all these white guys?”

“They’re not all white. And yes. It’s the twenty-first century, you know.”

“Humph. Well good for you. You may be the boss of these guys, but while you’re in my house, brotha’, I’m the boss. So get your ass back to work before I fire it.” She’d tried to sound tough, but a smile was threatening to break through her lips, despite all of her efforts.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered with a bow. But he didn’t turn back to his work until he’d left her with a wink.

Gina stormed off back to her friends.

“Well?” Stevie asked.

“Well what? He’s just some corny-ass pretty boy from Pasadena.”

“What’s wrong with Pasadena?” Stevie asked.

“What’s right about it?”

Stevie rolled her eyes again and sighed, seemingly exasperated. “Whatever. I’m hungry.” She walked off into the kitchen, leaving Sonny to stare at Gina intently.

“I don’t get you, Gina.”

“Here we go…”

“That guy is smokin’ hot.”

“And?”

“And he’s taller than you, which is saying something. And he’s got a steady, respectable job and lives in a good part of town, which means he must be well off.”

“Then why don’t you date him?”

“Because he wasn’t looking at me.”

“Right. Like you’d date him if he had been checking you out.”

Silence. What a surprise.

“Remind me again, Sonny. When was the last time you dated a guy with an actual pulse?”

Sonny narrowed her eyes. “Your point?”

“Fuck, Angelus. That’s my point. Matter of fact, that’s always my motha’ fuckin’ point.”

Sonny smirked. “Did that. Loved it.”

Now Gina was exasperated. “Jesus Christ, Sonny. That jackass dropped you like a drained fuckin’ corpse when Buffy got back. How you gonna sit here and talk about him now like he’s somethin’?”

“That’s not how it happened,” she gritted out, her voice low.

“Uh huh.”

“And anyway, those two lasted all of what? Three months?”

Gina’s stomach felt like it had dropped into her shoes. “What the hell are you sayin’, Sonny? That you’ve been with him since?”

“When did I start answering to you? You’re eighteen years old for Christ sake. Don’t talk to me like I’m the child here.”

“Well you’re acting like one!” she shouted. “And so what if I’m eighteen? If I’m still a kid, then what the hell was that old-ass bastard doing fuckin’ you when you were my age anyway?!”

Silence.

Shit. The hammering stopped suddenly, and half the crew had turned to look at them with amusement.

“Thanks, Gina.”

Chastened, Gina lowered her voice. “Sorry. But seriously. Please tell me you’re not seein’ him again.”

“What do you care?”

“What about Buffy?” Gina whispered.

Sonny’s eyes widened in seeming disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

Gina sighed. She knew she’d lost that argument before it even started.

“I’m not even thinking about Max here either, Gina. Though he’s more than enough reason to forget you just said that.”

“What? You mean Spike?”

“Yeah. Him. The new “boy toy” – though I guess he’s a lot older than her. She obviously prefers vampires. Well now she’s got a new one. And blond, like her. How cute,” she added with contempt.

Gina looked at her sister with sympathy. “Sonny, regardless of how Buffy feels about it, it ain’t right. You can do a hell of a lot better than Angelus.”

“You can’t help who you love, Gina.”

“What the fuck?” Gina lifted her hands to her head and turned full circle in shock. “Sonny, please tell me it ain’t like that. After all these god damn years?”

Sonny shrugged, almost guiltily. But not quite.

“I’m not tryin’ to make you feel bad, Sonny, for real. But do you really think he feels that way about you?”

Sonny looked away suddenly, but returned to face Gina again just as quickly. “Probably not. But he understands me better than any human guy would. He can protect himself. He knows my world. He doesn’t try to interfere in my life. He respects my power.”

“That’s all? So date a fuckin’ Watcher, Sonny. Jesus!”

Sonny glared.

“Yeah, I know. Forget I said that.”

“Here he comes. Twelve o’clock,” Sonny warned.

“Huh?” Gina caught Sonny looking past her towards the front door and groaned. “Great.”

“I’ll just leave you two alone,” Sonny added with a smirk, joining Stevie in the kitchen.

“So, Gina.”

Gina turned around to face him. “So, Slick.”

He chuckled. “You know that kinda works. The Slick and The Slayer.”

Gina’s eyes widened comically.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you.” He paused and bit back a smile. “Okay, maybe I did.”

At a loss for words, she blinked mindlessly.

“Relax,” he said quietly. “It’s alright. I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“But how do you know in the first place?” she asked urgently, almost angrily.

“My dad knows,” he replied with a shrug. “So do one or two of the more senior crew. That’s why Mr. Harris hired us.”

Gina had no fuckin’ idea how to process this information. There were so few people who knew what she was. The boys in Compton and Watts all knew what she could do, but they didn’t know much else.

“Anyway, it works. The Slick and The Slayer. Don’t you think?” he teased.

“It ain’t ‘The’ Slick, dumb ass. It’s just ‘Slick’. And it sure as hell ain’t ‘The’ Slayer either. I’m just ‘a’ Slayer. One in a thousand. Or however many there are these days.”

Richard tilted his head to the side and smiled. “Forgive me, Gina, but I doubt you’re ‘just’ anything.”

She could feel the blush spreading across her cheeks, and thanked god it couldn’t show.

“But I’ve been proven wrong before,” he added playfully.

Gina looked down into her empty glass and mumbled. “I uh… I need more milk.”

He chuckled lightly again. “Well enjoy the rest of your breakfast. I’ll just get back to my mother fucking work before you fire my ass.” He was smiling warmly at her again, with those stupid teeth of his, and it disarmed her – not for long – but long enough for the corners of her mouth to curl up against her will.

* * * * *

The mall was packed, as usual, and Buffy didn’t really feel like weaving through the crowds of greedy shoppers, but she definitely needed some clothes and she desperately needed some underwear. She’d inhaled a Caesar salad at the Food Court and had washed it down with a cold iced tea, so she was feeling energized enough to take on the latest sales. She just wasn’t sure where to go. She’d stopped shopping for the latest fashions long ago. She was practical girl these days – opting for comfortable items in inconspicuous blacks and greys. But with the opportunity to rebuild her wardrobe, she decided a little color might not hurt.

Three exhausting hours later, Buffy sat at a bench in the middle of the mall admiring her purchases. She’d managed to get two week’s worth of undergarments and outfits, and all of them still practical, but also flattering and more colorful. She’d bought several tops in greens, blues, and reds, but nothing too bright. She’d bought two pairs of leather pants in black and brown, but otherwise stuck to the more rugged materials she’d grown accustomed to.

Okay, there was no reason to have bought the black, leather skirt, but it reminded her of the one she used to own back in Sunnydale. She was allowed a few sentimental purchases. Her best buy, though, was her steel-toed boots, and she wasted no time in changing into the black leather pants that worked so well with them. Since she hadn’t planned on hunting that night, she finished the outfit off with a tight white tee.

She’d also stopped by a hair salon, and had surprised herself by refusing the offer of a haircut – indulging in a deep conditioning treatment instead. After a trip to the pharmacy, she was well stocked in toiletries, and now had only one thing left to buy.

She had no idea what kind of gift to get him, or how to justify it. But she felt like she needed to do something good to make up for all the bad she’d done in the past. She supposed she could call it a ‘thank you’ for his help with the Dragvloks. She really was grateful for that, after all. But she had no idea what to get a two hundred year old vampire with such particular tastes and with his own mysterious source of cash. Gone were the days of his helping the Scoobies for blood and cigarettes.

She scanned the directory of stores near her seat for ideas. Halfway down the list of shops she stopped, and a smile slowly spread across her face.

“Buffy?”

Startled, she looked up, only to be startled again by the face that greeted her.

“Oh my god.” She blinked several times as if to focus. “What-?”

He seemed to be waiting for her to finish.

“Um...” She chuckled nervously. “Hi.”

He was grinning ear-to-ear.

“Hi yourself. I can’t believe we bumped into each other. It’s so great to see you. You look amazing, as usual.”

She smiled sweetly, finding her composure again. “You always knew how to flatter a girl, Max. Thank you.”

“I just call it like I see it, Buffy.”

She blushed slightly. “So how are you? It’s been – gosh – what? Two years?”

“Eighteen months. Yeah, it’s been a while,” he added quietly.

“Well, you’re looking great too. Very distinguished.”

“You mean I’m looking old.”

“No! I- Okay, yeah. Older. But I like it.”

“Thanks. I do too, actually. It’s the premature grey.” He stroked the hair at his temples. “I think it gives me more authority. I’m a detective now, you know.”

“Wow. Max, that’s great. Really great. Impressive too. I mean you’re only… what? Thirty-four now?”

He smiled even more widely, if that was possible. “You remembered.” He seemed touched. “Yeah. Thirty-four. But with the grey, I don’t get as much flack from the older cops now.”

She nodded her understanding and a lull stretched between them.

“Um… so have you heard from Sonny?” she asked suddenly.

His smile faded somewhat. “No. Not since Christmas.” He looked down. “You know Sonny. She likes to keep her distance.”

Buffy frowned. “I’ll never understand why she does that. That whole thing about protecting your job and your safety–”

“It makes sense to her, Buffy,” he gently insisted. “And there’s more to it than that.”

Buffy looked at him with surprise.

“Sibling stuff. It’s… complicated. Suffice it to say, I accept her decision. But I do like to know that she’s alright.”

Buffy looked at him with sympathy. “Well, she is. Alright, I mean. But… we were attacked the other–“

“What?”

“It’s fine, Max. She’s okay. I promise. She was injured, but she’s healing now.”

Max sighed with what looked like a mixture of relief and sadness.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it at work.”

It took him a moment to answer her, so seemingly lost in his own emotion.

“Yeah… well… that was never my part of town, you know. And she’s always made it very clear that she wanted me to stay out of it.”

“I’m sorry, Max.”

He met her eyes again. “I know, Buffy.”

Uh oh. He was looking at her now with that expression of longing he used to wear.

“I’ve missed you,” he spoke quietly.

She swallowed. “Max, I-“

He shook his head. “I know, Buffy. You don’t have to say anything.”

He managed a small smile again. “I just wanted you to know that you’ve been missed. I don’t want you to ever forget that you were lo-”

“I know,” she hurried, chuckling slightly with embarrassment. “Thank you.”

He nodded, looking – well, devastated by her interruption.

“I should really get going.”

“Of course,” he said apologetically.

“I’ve got one more stop to make in the mall before I head to the warehouse, so…”

“Will you…?”

Buffy looked at him questioningly.

“… tell her that I love her?”

Oh god. He always could pull at her heartstrings. He was just so sincere. And he deserved so much more from the women in his life than he’d ever gotten.

“Of course.” Not wanting to prolong the moment, Buffy turned to gather her bags and stood up.

“It was really good to see you again, Max.”

Walking hastily away, she didn’t wait for his reply.


* * * * *

Her name came out on a sigh.

He was in his bed, but her scent was everywhere – impregnating the air, saturating his sheets, seeping into his skin.

A smile tugged lazily at the corners of his mouth. Slowly, he reached consciousness.

Opening his eyes, Spike found himself lying on one side of his bed, his back to the other side. Bloody hell. Had he crawled into bed with her? Wait. He was alone. The flat was quiet, not a heartbeat to be heard anywhere.

“What the hell?”

“Good morning, sir.”

Spike sat up in bed. “Where is she?”

“The female has left the house, sir.”

“She has a name, you–“ Spike stopped himself, thinking of her admonishment the night before, then laughed at himself for being so easily influenced by her.

“Her name is Buffy, Kit.”

“Buffy has left the house, sir.”

“When?”

“Three hours, forty-two minutes, and twenty-seven seconds ago.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“No, sir.”

Spike frowned. “Did she say when she’d be back?”

“No, sir.”

Bugger. “How did I get to my bed, Kit?”

“She carried you, sir.”

Spike inhaled sharply. “Did she sleep with me in bed?”

“No, sir.”

Spike fell back on to the bed with a thump.

“Did she say anything?”

“Yes, sir.” C.H.E.R.I. replayed the recording stored in her memory system: ‘Hey Kit, I’m leaving now, but don’t say anything like ‘Good bye, female’ or something, because you’ll wake him up. Okay? Okay. Um, lock the door behind me.’”

Spike grabbed a Buffy scented pillow and smiled into it.

“Did she do anything else when she was here, other than carry me to bed?”

“Yes, sir. She kissed your–“

“What?” He dropped the pillow from his face. “Kissed my what?”

“Forehead, sir. She then proceeded to the bathroom where she–”

“Oi! Give the lady some privacy for fuck’s sake.”

“Very well, sir.”

Spike sighed with delight. So she had put him to bed and kissed his brow. That could only mean one thing. She liked him. No, cared for him. He wasn’t ‘nothing’ to her. And this was most definitely progress.

“Kit. Have I told you how much I love you?”

“No, sir.”

Spike chuckled. “Well, I do. Cheers.”

Spike snuggled deeper into bed with her pillow, reluctant to leave the cocoon of her scent. His stomach soon had other ideas though, and forced him out of bed.

After he’d eaten and dressed, he considered his plans for the night. He had no idea where she was or when she was coming back. The sun was down, but if he left the flat, she might return in his absence. He could ring Niblet and see if she’d returned there, but that would look too desperate. He could go to the warehouse and check on the girls, he supposed. Buffy was sure to have gone there at some point, and if she wasn’t there now, would be there later. Or the girls would let him know if she’d stopped by.

Problem solved. “I’m headed to Slayer Central, Kit. If Buffy returns, let her know.”

“Of course, sir.”

Spike left his basement flat with a newfound optimism about his unlife.

“Bon soir, ma cherie. Bon soir.”

* * * * *

Buffy couldn’t believe the transformation of the warehouse front entrance. The crew must have been working from the crack of dawn. The new front door was firmly in place, but not yet rewired for security, so Buffy pounded on the door instead.

“Buffy!”

Buffy greeted her with a smile. “Hey, Pipa. You’re looking better already.” The two embraced warmly.

“The door was unlocked, you know. The security system hasn’t been fixed yet, and the crew didn’t think to give us bolt locks.”

“Oh. Well maybe we should get a lock for it tonight.”

“Um. Okay. Do you know how to put one on?”

Buffy scrunched up her face.

Pipa giggled. “I didn’t think so.”

Buffy’s pounding on the door must have alerted the whole house, as all the girls began trickling into the common room as she entered.

The room was still unfinished, the walls yet to be repainted and the burnt furniture yet to be replaced, but it looked like a place on the mend.

“Hi, Buffy,” Rachel greeted.

“Hey, sis,” Gina echoed.

The others girl remained silent, Sally and Sonny looking the least engaged.

“Sally. Lisa. Mel.”

Lisa and Mel gave Buffy a perfunctory nod, but Sally barely registered the greeting.

“Are you guys alright?”

“We didn’t find any of the Dragvloks last night, if that’s what you’re asking,” Mel replied.

“Yet,” Sally added with quiet determination. “We’re going back out tonight.”

“Wait.”

Sally looked up sharply at Buffy.

“First, I was asking about you guys, not about the Dragvloks. And I’m glad to see that you’re all safe.”

Silence.

She continued. “Second, Spike and I got some intel from a couple of demon bars last night.”

“And?” Rachel asked eagerly.

“The word on the street is that the remaining Dragvloks have left town.”

Sally punched the burnt arm of her chair and was out of her seat the next moment, walking anxiously about the room.

“All of them?” Lisa questioned. She didn’t look any more pleased than Sally.

“Apparently a couple were seen at the docks getting a boat to Asia, and a few others were headed back to Vancouver. That only leaves one or two, and I doubt they would have stuck around without the rest – not when we’d outnumber them.”

The room fell silent for several moments.

“So they’re all gone?” Stevie asked.

Buffy nodded.

“I’m going out to kill stuff,” Sally declared, as she left in the direction of the weapons rooms.

“Think I’ll join her,” Lisa added, leaving the room with Mel close behind.

“Thanks Buffy,” Rachel added quietly, before leaving in the direction of the kitchen. The other girls slowly got up and trudged their separate ways, leaving only Gina and Pipa, as usual.

Sonny was halfway up the stairs when Buffy remembered.

“Sonny.”

The girl stopped and was slow to turn around.

“How are you?”

“Fine,” she answered automatically.

“I’m glad to see that you’re better.”

Sonny just looked at her.

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something. I ran into–“

“Max?”

Buffy furrowed her brow. How did she know?

“Hi, sis.”

Buffy’s eyes widened at the sound of his voice. Turning around quickly, she was as shocked as his sister to see Max walk through the door.

Slowly, Sonny descended the stairs and walked over to her brother. He was holding a large bouquet of flowers in seemingly every shape and color and a white paper bag of what looked like yummy goodness. He really did know how to flatter a girl. But Buffy knew those weren’t for her, and couldn’t help but smile in approval.

“What are you doing here?” Sonny asked, her voice strained.

Max extended his gifts towards his sister. “I heard you were injured. And everyone needs flowers and cannoli when they’re sick. Don’t you think?” He was smiling at her tentatively, and his eyes were already moistening.

“Who told you I was injured?” she challenged angrily. “Forget I asked,” she added quickly, turning her head halfway behind her towards Buffy. “She shouldn’t have done that and she knows it. It’s none of her business.“

“It’s not her fault, Sonny,” he replied with concern. “I asked about you. I wanted to know how you were.”

“I’m fine, Max. As you can see.”

He nodded sadly.

Buffy suddenly felt like an intruder on a moment of deep intimacy. Looking over to Pipa and Gina, she gestured with her hands for them to leave.

“Um… Sonny?” Pipa tentatively interrupted. “We’re just going to the kitchen. Did you want us to put your flowers in water?”

Sonny nodded after a moment and handed both gifts to Pipa. Gathering them up like treasures, Pipa followed the others into the kitchen.

“Whose flowers?” Rachel asked between mouthfuls of cereal.

“Sonny’s. From her brother, “ Pipa replied. “We don’t have any vases do we?”

“Pip, this ain’t the Hilton, girl. Use that coffee can over there. I think it’s empty.”

“Oh. Good idea.”

“So why the flowers?” Rachel asked.

“I told him she’d been injured,” Buffy explained. “I ran into him today and he asked about–“

THUMP THUMP THUMP

Buffy whipped her head in the direction of the common room. Throwing a concerned look back at the others, she rushed back into the common room to check on the siblings. Sonny was nowhere to be found.

“She went upstairs, Buffy.”

Oh no. He looked defeated.

“What-?”

He waved his hand as if to plead her to stop, and on seeing his tears start to fall, she obliged him instantly.

“I’m so sorry, Max.” She could feel her own eyes start to ache.

He looked up to her then with a resentful expression – a look she’d never seen him wear before.

“You know, I don’t think there’s anything I hate more than the sound of your voice uttering those words to me.”

Buffy gasped. Shocked and dismayed, she met him in two strides.

“Max–”

“Enough.”

Buffy exhaled slowly to keep calm. “Max. This isn’t you.”

He chuckled bitterly. “Sure it is. This is the ‘me’ you both made.”

She lifted a hand to her brow. “Max.” Her own tears were threatening to fall. “Please. Please don’t be this way.” She reached out to him with both hands then. “You mean so much to–“

But he had stepped out of reach.

“Max,” she pleaded.

“No, Buffy. I’m finished.” He held back a sob. “I’ve had enough. And I should never have come here.”

“But Max–“

“Good bye, Buffy. I hope you have a nice life. I really do. Because we both know it’ll be a long one.”

Turning on his heels, he stormed out of the room, bumping right into–

Oh god.

Spike.