Author’s Note: I’m working on the third chapter now. I would really appreciate feedback on this one. Like it? Hate it? Want to see more? Any major holes so far?

In our second installment Buffy rises from her stupor.

Chapter Two


On the seventh day she watched the bubbles in the tub pop and decided she might as well start living again.

For a week she'd drifted between a strange bed and strange bath, only half conscious. She'd lost track of how many mugs of sludge she'd poured down her throat trying to block out the bright, loud, harsh world constantly assaulting her senses. She was the slayer. She could take the pain of it. There was work to do.

From overheard conversation she knew that Sunnydale had been without a slayer for years. Maybe she was back because they needed her. Maybe there was some purpose to her being dragged out of paradise. Even if that was just something she needed to believe to get herself out of bed, she was clinging to it.

She hadn't done much talking. She could tell they weren't sure what to say to her, what to ask her. Full sentences were still a little of a challenge too, though her memory was back. The vibrations in her throat tingled, and she didn't know what to say. But they talked to each other, and she heard them. She heard everything; the beating of their hearts, footfalls on the sidewalk, the television in the house next door. When Xander came in to check on her, she could smell the sun that had soaked into his skin all day, the wet plaster from his buildings, the cold cuts from his lunch.

Was this what vampires felt, this sensory overload? Was she a kind of vampire now?

Maybe Spike could help her. He was always around, unless he was out patrolling with the new slayer. Sometimes she called his name, just to check, assure herself that he was nearby. Oddly reassuring, the familiar way he hung around. Plus it was good to have someone who looked the same, who didn't look changed. Tara had aged in a fabulous Meryl Streep way. Xander was still Xander, but he was, like, Giles's age. Only Giles was dead.

No one would tell her about Willow. She knew Willow wasn't dead, because she would have felt her, the way she'd felt Dawn and Giles. But Xander would only say that Willow wasn't 'with us' anymore, like she was dead.

She took a deep breath and kicked one leg up out of the water. Droplets dripped down it and it didn't feel so bad, even with the cool air crashing into the damp skin. Tara had brought her a big bag of girly things, and after days of ignoring pretty much everything but the bubble baths with their aggressive, fruity smells she unearthed the razor and shaving cream.

Xander's towels were big and soft and so was the old robe he'd given her. There was the faintest hint of warm guy scent and sandalwood in the cloth. She needed clothes. And makeup. And money. She didn't have anything of her own anymore. Did she even exist any more?

The mirror didn't think so. Just steam and dots of water on the glass.

"Spike?"

"Slayer?"

She smiled to herself. "Come in?"

He opened the door slowly and poked his head in. The warm air rushed out and she shivered. "No me," she joked, pointing at the mirror. "Maybe I'm a vampire now too."

Spike shook his head and carefully placed a hand on her chest. "Heart's beating away, slayer. Not a vampire."

For a moment she was mesmerized by the feel of his hand on her bare skin. Everyone was so careful about touching her, afraid their hugs would be too much. "Tell me something." She had to rest between phrases, but talking was getting easier. "When you walked in here right now? It's like someone shoved macaroons up your nose, right?"

He threw back his head and laughed. "You are a bit over fond of the coconut, slayer," he admitted.

"How do you stand it?" she asked.

"Always have the option of not breathing," he pointed out.

But he always did breath, she noticed. "Well, I don't," she argued.

Spike shrugged. "You get used to it. Some fledges can't take it, s'why some of them run around like decapitated chickens when they rise. Too much for them."

"So I'm like a really dumb fledge? Thanks."

He gave her one of those soft little smiles. "Not built for it is all. Give it time, love. Concentrate on what feels good."

Like his hand on her skin? That was a really dangerous thought. "So far that's baths and chocolate. And if you keep bringing me chocolate, I'm going to get fat."

He scoffed. "Not likely slayer. You could use some padding, looking a bit skeletal these days."

She frowned. "Give me a break. I was a skeleton a few days ago." His face fell and she felt bad. She knew she hadn't always cared this much about Spike's feelings, but he was one of three people she knew in the whole world. Plus he'd stuck around, kept fighting the fight. Fighting... "I want to patrol again."

As soon as she said it, she realized it was true. She missed it, missed the feel of smooth wood in her hand, the rush of adrenaline, the satisfaction of doing her job.

"You sure you're ready for that?" Spike asked, brow furrowed with skepticism.

"Well, no, but I have a life again. I need to get on with it, you know?"

"Maybe a little training first?" he suggested. "Could come to the shop with Tash and me tonight. See if you've still got it."

"I've still got it!" she insisted.

He smiled and looked her over. "You certainly do."

She rolled her eyes and smiled back. "I thought you said I was too skinny."

"We can work on that too."


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When Xander got home, he was pleased to see Buffy sitting at the kitchen table instead of sleeping or soaking. She had one of his old photo albums out, flipping through pictures of his son's soccer matches. "Someone's feeling better."

She gave him a little smile. "I think I was running the risk of permanent pruning."

He squeezed her shoulder and handed her the envelope that had come. "Don't worry, it's not ticking or anything. I checked."

Buffy studied the thick manila packet warily. "It's from the Council?" She dumped the contents out on the table. Little laminated cards, papers, and another, smaller envelope. New ids, a resume, a diploma.

"They do a better job of taking care of their slayers now," Xander explained.

Buffy scoffed, but when she opened the little envelope her eyes got huge. "Oh my god. This is a lot. I mean, is it a lot? It was a lot thirty years ago, but..."

Xander glanced at the check she was holding. "It's still a lot," he confirmed.

She put it back in the envelope. "I guess they really do take better care of us." Her face brightened. "Now I can go shoe shopping! And also kick in for groceries, or I could find my own place if you want, or--"

"Buffy," Xander stopped her. "You don't have to do any of that. You have no idea what it means for me, having you here again. Having you stay at the house is so beyond not a problem." He kissed her forehead. "Tomorrow's Saturday. I can take you to the bank, and you can set up an account. And maybe I can take you shopping for a pretty new handbag to put your new cards in. Isn't that what you lady types like?" He teased, "Shoes and purses?"

"Became a big expert in my absence?" she razzed back.

"Hey," he insisted, getting up and scouring the fridge for dinner selections, "I managed to run off two wives while you were gone. I learned a lot about what women don't like."

Buffy shook her head. "I'm still getting used to this, that all this time went by. You got married, had a kid, opened your own business... I’m not, like, messing up your work, am I?”

“Nah,” he assured her. “Nice thing about being the boss is I can step out if I need to. And Jess should be back from his ski trip next week, so I’m due for a break.”

“Business is good?”

“You know what Sunnydale’s like. Something’s always getting blown up or knocked down. Especially the last few years. It’s gotten better since Tashi came to town.”

Buffy sighed. “I missed so much. I don't even know what all I missed."

He leaned against the stove. "Well, what do you want to know, Buff? You can ask me anything."

"Where's Willow?"

Of course. Of course she wanted to know about Willow. "She's not around here anymore. The slayer after you... she and Willow got really close, and Willow kinda lost it when she got killed. Turned in her Scooby badge," he hedged.

"Do you ever see her? I mean, what is she doing now? Can I, you know, call her or something?"

"I wouldn't recommend it," he sighed. "Sometimes her work brings her here." Though, thankfully, not very often anymore, he kept to himself. The craving for a beer kicked in. "She travels a lot. She's in high demand."

"Oh." The disappointment in her voice hurt, but the full truth would make it even worse. "Well, that's good. Good for her that she's all sought after and stuff."

Yeah, hooray for Willow. He needed a distraction, pronto. "Come on, Buff, let's get out of here. Get a burger or something."

She nodded. "Sounds good. But nothing too heavy. I'm training tonight."

"Training?"

"I'm still the slayer, right?" She shrugged. "Time to get back to work." She took the jacket he offered and made a face. "I'm going to need you to show me where Tara's store is though."

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I'm working on the third part now. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!