Buffy gripped the handle on the dark blue coffin and gritted her teeth, trying not to think about the precious cargo inside. She had been crying almost hysterically when the choir had finished singing and the director motioned for the pall bearers to rise and take their places. Spike had leaned in, telling her that she didn’t have to participate, she could just walk next to them, but she had reached for the handle with her black gloved hand and nodded at the others.

As they carried the coffin down the long center aisle that had been created by rows of chairs, she felt Angel reach out and give her hand a reassuring squeeze, the one that lay limply at her side, throbbing with renewed persistence. The pain had become as constant as the agony she felt and she had slipped away to take a couple of pain pills earlier in the day. They had not taken the edge off. She glanced at Angel, inclining her head slightly as fresh tears burned in her eyes. They spilled over as they all stepped into the cool night air and she stared at the hearse that sat waiting for its priceless freight.

For a moment, she thought her legs would buckle as Christina’s wails began again behind her. She felt Davies put a reassuring hand on her back and glanced at Spike, who was across the coffin, but directly beside her. They had been positioned at the very front, leading side by side. Spike raised an eyebrow and she looked away, focusing on the lining of the hearse. Gently, as delicately as she could, she lifted the coffin as high as her arm would allow, to get it inside the car. Her corner bumped the edge and she instinctively brought her bad arm around, using it to lift it the rest of the way.

Davies made a sound behind her, trying to tell her that he had it, but she used both arms and then moved back so the others could walk it in the rest of the way. Massaging her shoulder, she watched as Spike shut the door and turned to her. “Are you okay? Did you hurt it?”

“I don’t think so.” she lied, trying to keep her face as blank as possible as pain radiated through her.

“I told you-” He stopped himself before an argument started and hugged her. “You were perfect. You did a good job.”

Christine walked up and took Buffy’s hand. “You can ride with me. Both of you.”

Buffy nodded and they followed her to the limousine. Both sets of parents were inside, so they moved to the nose of the car and sat side by side. Buffy leaned her head against Spike’s shoulder as the car eased away from the curb, following behind the hearse. He could feel the fever through his jacket and touched her forehead, then lifted her hand and gasped. It was so swollen that her fingernails looked like they should snap from the nail beds.

“Something’s wrong with me,” she whispered, then stopped him as he leaned toward Christine, obviously about to tell her that they needed out of the car. “Don’t. I can do it.”

She made it through the service and all the way back to the car before she fainted.

*~*

Spike still wore his suit and as he paced back and forth across the small expanse of the ‘waiting room’, but he yanked off the tie he had worn and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. Fred rushed in, looking frazzled and out of sorts as she dropped a big box full of folders into a chair. “That blade on the end of the demon’s tail isn’t a blade at all. It’s a fang that it uses to inject venom into the victim’s blood stream to make them weak enough for it to eat them.”

“Like a snake?” Dawn asked, picking up the top most folder and glancing inside. “Eww. It’s ugly.”

“What’s the antidote?” Angel picked up a folder for himself and flipped through it.

“We’re mixing it up now. We’re waiting on one last ingredient, but Wesley has gone to get it.”

“What is it?”

“Some belladonna from the Magic Center.”

“What can this venom do to her?” Spike glanced over Dawn’s shoulder at the contents of her folder. “And how did she miss this information?”

“Well, it should have technically killed her,” Fred replied. “I’m thinking the reason it didn’t was because she lost so much invenomated blood and received so much fresh blood in the operating room. It must have diluted the poison. Plus, she’s a Slayer and her composite may be such that she can’t be affected the way it would affect me or Dawn. And she didn’t miss it. Somewhere along the way the information we had about it got mixed up with another demon’s file. It was all just a clerical error.”

“Well, the clerical staff needs to be fired,” Spike growled.

“Excuse me!” Dawn shot back. “I actually need my job and half the time the paperwork we get in is a jumbled up mess and it takes us hours to try to sort it.”

“Then try harder! You almost got your sister killed!”

“I didn’t do this file, Spike! I’ve never even heard of it! She’s the one who went after it half cocked! Why don’t you blame her!?”

“I have been blaming her, ‘bit! It’s been hell between us!”

“When will the antidote be ready?” Angel asked Fred, moving around the bickering duo.

“As soon as Wesley gets back.”

Angel nodded at the others. “I’ll go call him.”

Spike sat down in the chair closest to the box and began rifling through the contents. He was ashamed of himself for not noticing that Buffy had quite a few of the symptoms that had been described in detail in the literature. He had been too busy being furious with her, something he was feeling more often than not lately. What had happened to them?

Angel returned a few minutes later. “They giving it to her now.”

“It should work instantly if it’s going to make a diff-” Fred trailed off, apparently realizing what she was saying. “It’ll work,” she added hastily. “No worries.”

Fifteen minutes went by and the door opened. Everyone was shocked to see Buffy standing there, looking none the worse for wear. Her color had returned and the bandages were off her arm completely. She held it up, posing like a muscle man and burst out laughing, leaning against the door jamb as she cackled. In the very next instant, she was sobbing hysterically. Spike looked at Fred, who shrugged and said, “The antidote is also called ‘Bottled Euphoria’. But the belladonna was really fresh and that can cause some serious mood swings.” She looked over at Buffy who was laughing again, hugging Dawn and punching Colin affectionately on the shoulder so hard that he fell backwards. “Maybe you better get her away from people.”

“Great,” Spike replied. “While I try to take Sybil upstairs why don’t you see if you can find out how long this will last.”

~*~

By the time Monday morning arrived, Buffy was completely back to normal. Wolfram and Hart had reopened, but the dreaded silence that accompanied death had carried over into the new day. As she headed for the meeting Angel had requested, all conversation around her ceased. Even Harmony, who usually gave an unwanted critique of Buffy’s outfit or hair, moved out of the way and silently watched her pass. It put Buffy in a foul disposition and as she emerged from the elevator and headed toward Angel’s office, she was openly glaring at people.

She knocked on Angel’s door and he motioned her in, shutting the blinds as she took a seat across from him. “What did you want to see me about?”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“No side effects?”

“I’m pretty sure I ate an entire tub of ice cream and tried to talk Spike into shaving his head and cried when he wouldn’t, but other than that I’m peachy.”

He smiled a little, reminded of the time in Sunnydale that she had used that same word to describe herself. She had been anything but peachy at the time, given the fact that she was being plagued by nightmares of the Master. He forced himself not to remember that time and place. “I’m sorry that you’ve been through this.”

“What’s that saying? If it doesn’t kill me it makes me happier?”

“Stronger. If it doesn’t kill you it makes you stronger.”

“So that’s why I’m so damn strong.” She shrugged a little. “So, what’s up?”

“We need to discuss your actions the other day.”

“We already did. You yelled at me for ten minutes in my hospital room.”

“I yelled at you as a friend. Now I have to address it as your boss.”

A flutter of nervousness ran through her and she bit her bottom lip. “Wolfram and Hart was closed when I fought the demon.”

“That’s exactly right and that’s where I have a problem. You went against me and my orders. I said that Wolfram and Hart would be closing out of respect to Miles and you still took it upon yourself to-.”

“I went there as the Slayer. Not as the manager of Assassination.”

“Well, the manager of Assassination is suspended with pay pending a psych evaluation.”

She forced herself to close her mouth, which had dropped open as he spoke to her. “You have got to be kidding me. You’re punishing me for doing my job?”

“Your job was to manage your department which you did not do.”

“How the hell does that translate into a psych evaluation?”

“It’s standard procedure. You worked the closest with Miles and have obviously been affected by it.”

“Anyone who knew him is affected by it! Is everyone in the department going to go through this?”

Angel stared at her for several seconds, then shook his head. “Everyone in your department didn’t do what you did, Buffy. You could have died. Davies will take over in your absence. Your evaluation will take place within the week and if they say that you’re fine then you can return to work next Monday.” He waited for her to reply. She didn’t so he picked up a file on his desk and opened it. “That’s all. You can go.”

Wordlessly, Buffy stood and turned on her heel. The anger she felt was vivid enough to make her shake and there were a million things she’d like to say, but she bit her tongue. As she reached for the door knob, he spoke again. “No one knows that you’re suspended. They think you’re taking a short leave due to what happened.”

“Tell them the truth, Angel. I’d rather them know that you’re a fucking jackass than think that I’m too weak and pathetic to come back to work.” With that, she slammed out of the office and for once, the silence that followed her to the elevator was the last thing on her mind.


~*~