*~*~*~*~*

Buffy stared with mock horror as Spike jumped the last of her red pieces and leered at her. She had purposely made incorrect moves and sabotaged herself at every turn. Trying to sound annoyed, she crossed her arms over her chest and said, “You cheated.”

“I never cheat.”

“Whatever! When I went outside to use the restroom you moved my pieces.”

“Wrong again, love.”

“I’m not kissing you.”

“You protest too much.” He moved closer to her. “Now pucker up.”

“Wait.” She put her hand on his chest, holding him back a little. “Shouldn’t we talk about it? You’re all gung ho on knowing my every thought.”

“What are you thinking?”

She was shocked at how low, how husky his voice had become. It sent shivers up and down her spine. Good shivers. And put tingles in the pit of her stomach. “I’m thinking that you’re taking advantage of someone who is angry and depressed and more than just a little tipsy.”

Spike, who had been inching forward on his hands and knees drew up short. It had started as a little game, but he had become hell bent on kissing her. Now, however, he could concede that she had a point. “Right. I was just windin’ you up, pet.”

“What?” She clenched a handful of the front of his shirt. “I made a bet and I’ll keep it. It’s fine.”

“Nah. We’ll save it for another time.”

Impulsively, she leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. She felt him tense and moved her hand up, running her fingers through the short, silky curls at the nape of his neck. Her tongue moved against his bottom lip, slowly rubbing against him until he opened his mouth. She moaned a little when his tongue danced against hers and one hand wound around her waist, pulling her closer. His other hand tangled in her hair as he deepened the kiss, taking it as far as he dared.

She was breathless when he pulled away. And the tingling in her stomach had become a steady ache in her womb. She gasped, breathing hard and reached for him again, but he moved away, slipping off the tomb. “Spike?”

“Right, then. Debt paid,” he mumbled, turning his back to her so she wouldn’t see the raging hard on that was proudly pushing his pants into an awkward position.

She watched him as he reached for another bottle and twisted the lid, draining half the amber liquid, then drawing the back of his sleeve across his mouth. It wasn’t the reaction she had expected. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but this wasn’t it. “Oh, I forgot. You can’t stand the ‘taste of Buffy’. Better wash again because it could come back.”

He lowered the bottle in front of his crotch and turned to look at her. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m leaving.”

“Buffy-”

“What?!”

“I’ll walk you home.”

“No thanks.”

“You’ve been drinking.”

“I’m clear headed enough to realize that you are a liar.” When he looked affronted, she added, “You’re oh so in love with me until I kiss you and then you’re like everyone else. I get attached, act a little clingy, and all bets are off. Right?”

“That’s not-”

“I’ll see you later.”

He watched her storm out of the crypt, slamming the door hard behind her. “Well, bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath.

Women were insane.

*~*~*~*~*


Buffy slept fitfully. Dawn had been awake in the kitchen when she returned home, but Buffy hadn’t stopped to make small talk with her. Instead, she went straight to bed, shedding her sewer musk clothing as she went. By eight that morning, she was back up, showered, dressed and as far away from her house as she could get.

It was Giles last day as part of their group.

She couldn’t bear to be that close to the source of her pain.

By nine thirty she was chilling on the beach, her bikini top untied to let her pale shoulders get as much undisturbed sunlight as possible. For the longest time, she sat upright, watching the waves rolling into the shore. Then she stretched out on her stomach and pillowed her head on her arms.

She was asleep before she knew it.

“Hey, wake up.”

A gentle shaking pulled her from dreams of silence and comfort and she rolled over, shading her eyes as she stared up at Bob. “What do you want?”

“You’re burning to a crisp.”

She sat up and cringed. He wasn’t lying. “Ow.”

“Vinegar in a tub of cool water should help. But if not, you’ll be healed in a couple of hours anyways.”

“Why is that?”

“You didn’t actually read the contract did you?”

“Didn’t have time.”

“Well, you’re going to have all the time in the world. You’re immortal now. Invincible and impervious and all those other cool sounding words.”

Buffy felt as if she had been splashed by cold water. “What?”

“You’re never going to die.” He raised his hand, motioning at a hot dog salesman. “What do you want on your dog?”

“Huh?” She was still processing his words. Never going to die. Never going to return to Heaven. She took the plain hot dog he handed her and promptly burst into tears.

“Well, for heaven’s sake! If you want a loaded one just say the word!” He took several packets of condiments and slapped a spoon of cole slaw on the hot dog in her hand. “Is that better?”

She handed it back to him and stood, rushing for the bath house. Once inside, she locked herself in a stall and sat down on the toilet, clutching her stomach. A cool weapon and healing powers wasn’t worth it. All the money in the world wasn’t worth it. What had she done? She turned quickly, throwing up the stale bagel she had eaten that morning.

“Are you okay, honey?” a woman called.

“I’m fine. I’m okay. Thanks,” Buffy replied, heaving again.

When she emerged half and hour later she was sweaty and the sun burn was already fading and becoming a rich, bronze color. She could see Bob waving at her and felt as if the world had become a long hallway that she was destined to run down and never get the prize at the end. Moving slowly, since her stomach was still in knots, she paused beside him and began gathering her things. “I have to go.”

“I have another job for you. It pays twenty five thousand dollars and there’s no real time frame for it so you won’t lose anything.”

She nodded, realizing how fruitless it would be to protest. “What is it?”

“It’s a Prongg demon. Bartends at the Devil’s Lair.”

Gasping, she glanced up from packing her bag, glaring at the man. “I know him. He’s harmless.”

“Prongg demons are anything but harmless, Buffy. He’s been feeding on a family of Trelafar demons. They actually *are* harmless. Sort of like unicorns in your Harry Potter books. The blood of a Trelafar demon keeps someone young and virile.” Bob looked bored with the entire conversation. “You have to cut off his forked tongue to kill him.”

“Why is he only worth twenty five thousand?”

“Ahh, the dollar signs have appeared early I see.” He grinned at her. “Because Trelafar demons don’t actually have the resources to pay more than that. And because he’s not worth more. He’s not even worth twenty five. You’re getting it because you’re a special killer.”

“I’m not a killer.”

“Sure you are. Everyone has their price.”

“I don’t want to be Immortal.”

“Neither do I, gorgeous. But here we are. Young and beautiful with the world bowing at our feet. You don’t have to enjoy it yet. You’ll have a trillion years to learn to love it.”

Buffy watched him finish off another hot dog he had purchased and watched him stand. “You said before that you could kill me. I’m not immortal or impervious if you can kill me.”

“Anyone can be killed if you know how. Vampires, demons. You. Me.”

“How do you kill me?”

“Let’s hope to god you never find that out.”

He walked down the beach, catching a big ball and tossing it to a giggling toddler, who squealed with delight.

Another wave of nausea rolled through her and she ran back to the bathroom. This time she didn’t throw up.

But she finally understood exactly what a panic attack was.

*~*~*~*

Giles paced back and forth in the foyer of the Summers’ home, checking his watch every few minutes. He had expected Buffy, despite her anger at him, to at least say goodbye. Dawn had insisted that Buffy had returned home, late the previous night, but the Slayer’s bed had been made and she was no where to be seen when Giles awoke and prepared a lavish breakfast.

It was almost time for him to leave for the airport, so Giles walked back through the house, making sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. Willow descended the stairs and glanced at him. He looked expectant. “Anything?”

“I’ve called her cell phone about ten million times. Xander called and said that he’s still looking all over town with Dawn. I think Dawn’s freaking out on him. But they’ll be back in time for us to go to the airport together.” Willow was exhausted. Mentally and physically and the worry she felt for her Buffy had become a pronounced ache in her forehead. Tara had attempted to massage it away, but the pain had intensified. Four Tylenol had not even taken the edge off. “I’m sorry, Giles. I’m sure this isn’t how you planned your last day with us.”

“It’s quite alright. How is your headache?”

“Worse.”

“Perhaps you should remain here. I can call a taxi.”

“Heck no,” Willow told him, forcing a smile onto her face. “You’re one of us and if you’re going away then you get the Royal Scooby Gang sendoff.”

He returned the smile easily. Sometimes he was able to forget how powerful she had become and was reminded of the young, shy girl she had once been. Her dimpled smile, charming anecdotes and tender heart had a way of shining through. He cleared his throat. “Can we talk for a moment? Before the others return?”

Willow nodded and sat down on the sofa. “What’s up?”

“Buffy isn’t adapting to her new life well.”

“I actually had noticed that.”

“I’d like for you to email me a copy of the spell you used to resurrect her. I need all the details.”

“You can’t undo it!” Willow cried.

“Nor would I ever attempt to. But I would like to try to garner some indication of where she was, attempt to find out which hell dimension she resided in. It could help her heal.”

“Uh, okay.”

“I understand that it was black magick, Willow, and I won’t judge you any further for it. I reserve the right to scowl and say ‘oh dear’, but I understand your motives, however ill conceived they were.”

“Thank you. I think.” She rubbed her forehead, wincing a little as another stab of pain jolted through her. “I only did what I thought was best. I never thought that she’d come back ... so ... so -”

“Scarred?” Giles supplied. “You can see the scars in her eyes. A Slayer lives to fight the evil that dwells in darkness, but she is never meant to dwell there. We can’t know how she passed her time in hell or how long the passage of time actually was to her. By all accounts, one day for us can seem a hundred years for someone in another dimension.”

“That’s kinda what motivated me to bring her back.” Willow leaned forward a little, resting her elbows on her knees. “I mean, I read all about it in your books at the Magick Shoppe. I couldn’t leave her there. And even if I had known that she’d be this messed up when she returned, I still would have brought her out of that.”

“I know.” He affectionately patted her hand. “I can’t help her in the way I would like until I know what she went through.”

“Giles, it could be horrible. Do you really want to do that to yourself?”

“For her, yes.” He glanced down at his watch again when a horn blared outside. “That would be Xander and Dawn.”

Willow stood and opened her arms, enveloping Giles in a rib crushing bear hug. “She loves you, Giles. We all do. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I daresay I’ll have constant reminders.”

“You bet your ass you will!” Willow beamed up at him, then took a step back. “Let’s get going.”

She picked up one of the bags and slung it over her shoulder, swallowing the lump in her throat as he picked up the rest. “Hey, Giles?”

“Yes, Willow?”

“Is Spike really going to need a journal?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll proofread it to make it easier on you.”

“You’re a godsend.”

*~*~*~*~*~