Buffy gave her statement to the police and allowed the paramedics to fawn over her, worrying over the small cut on her forehead from a piece of the door that had flown at her during the blast, effectively downing her. She refused to go to the hospital and was relieved when they stopped badgering her. A cop wrapped her in a blanket, and led her through the crowd of people toward the police escort out front. Reporters kept thrusting microphones in her face, screaming questions at her, and by the time she made it halfway to the car she was in tears, both from nerves and the actual ordeal. She leaned her face against the officer, who lifted the blanket a little higher to help hide her and put a protective arm around her, yelling at the reporters to give her some room.

The young woman and the little boy were on the seat next to her. Buffy stuck out her hand, “I’m Buffy.”

“Feefee,” the little boy said and shocked her by climbing into her lap and hugging her.

“Oh, sorry! He never meets a stranger.” The woman made a move to get the little boy, but he drew back, opening his mouth to cry.

“It’s okay.” Buffy wrapped her arms around him, taking a little comfort in his presence. “What’s his name?”

“God, you’d think my manners blew up in that bathroom. That’s Jameson and I’m Melissa Rainey.”

“How old is he?”

“Just turned three.”

Jameson reached up, touching the necklace Buffy wore. “What that, Feefee?”

“That was a present from my boyfriend.” Holding the chain, she let him finger the little charms there, a silver B and a gold S. “Can you say Buffy?”

“Feefee. You my Feefee.”

It felt stupid to grin from ear to ear, especially considering that they were all covered in glops of dead girl, but that’s exactly what she did. They made small talk and convinced Jameson to strap into the seatbelt while the car pulled away from the curb. Safely on the interstate, Buffy felt immense relief to see that none of the reporters had been allowed to follow her. Hopefully her identity would remain a secret and she could concentrate on figuring out what the hell had just happened. She gave the officer directions and finally called Spike, telling him that she was almost home. They stopped only once, to let Melissa and Jameson get into another police car that would take them home.

Jameson lingered. “Bye bye, Feefee.”

“Bye, Jameson. Be a good boy.” Buffy waved out the back glass as they made their way back to the freeway and Wolfram and Hart.

When she gave the officer the code to enter the parking deck, she saw a small crowd had gathered at the elevator, clearly waiting for her. She groaned until the car moved closer and she realized that it was her friends. Dawn, Colin, Angel, Fred and Spike all rushed forward as one, helping her from the car. Dawn didn’t even fuss about the state of Buffy’s clothing as she hugged her, getting an alarming amount of gore on her pretty white shirt.

Spike had stayed back a little, allowing Dawn the opportunity to see for herself that Buffy was okay, then he stepped forward and held her, closing his eyes. “You’re killing me, love.”

“This time wasn’t my fault,” she replied, hugging him as Fred patted her on the back.

Angel thanked the officer and joined the others in the elevator, studying Buffy closely. He gently touched the bandage on her forehead. “How bad are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” She pulled the blanket a little tighter. “It wasn’t a bomb. There was this girl and she looked human, but I don’t think she was. She kept whispering really low in a language that I didn’t understand, but she said Slayer. Twice. And she looked right at me before she went boom.”

“Why do you think she wasn’t human?” Fred asked.

“Because of how she sounded. And she was doing a really other worldly balancing act on the top of the bathroom stalls. And hello, the last time I checked normal people didn’t blow up.”

Spike and Angel glanced at one another. Angel said what they were both thinking. “Or maybe she was a messed up kid who wanted to make a statement, protest the war or something.”

“She called me Slayer. I heard her, Angel.”

“Buffy you’ve been through a lot in the past few days. It’s possible that you -”

The elevator door opened Buffy stepped out on her floor. “I know what I heard and what I saw, Angel. If you still need to give me a psych evaluation to prove that I’m not crazy that’s fine, but we have to find out what this thing is. She wasn’t alone. There were voices whispering on either side of me and I don’t think this is the end of it.”

Spike joined her and put an arm around as the elevator door closed. “Come on, love.”

He led her to their place, then into the bathroom, where he peeled the blanket and layers of clothes from her and started the shower. She stepped inside and gasped when he joined her, fully clothed. “Spike, what are -”

“Shhh.” He moved her under the spray of water and ran his hands over her hair, massaging away the dried blood. Staring down at her, he was overwhelmed by the emotions that ran through him. The prospect of losing her was always in the back of his head, bugging him, making him worry that every second with her could be the last. Coming so close in the past few days was terrifying and the magnitude of it was finally sinking in. He felt his eyes well with tears and leaned against her. “I thought I told you not to scare me again.”

“I’m really trying to work on that, Spike.”

“Work a little harder, love.”

Buffy let him bathe away the remnants of the day. Something in his face bothered her, something in his eyes as he inspected every inch of her for himself made her uneasy.

And the last thing she needed was another reason to feel uneasy.

*~*

Her face was plastered all over the news and she groaned as the phone rang again, sending a slash of pain through her head. So far it had been people from Wolfram and Hart, telling her to turn on the television or asking her if the media knew who she was and so far, no one had leaked her name. Every time the phone rang, however, she feared the worst. “Hello?”

“Buffy, my god! Are you all right?”

“Hey, Giles. I’m okay. I’m sorry I didn’t call you last night. It was kinda hectic.”

“You’ve been all over the world news.”

“Why would it be showing over there?”

“Well, they think terrorists hit the airport. Do you agree with that?”

Buffy told him everything she had witnessed and listened quietly while he mumbled to himself. He asked a couple of questions about the appearance of the young girl and asked if Buffy could give him a demonstration of the sounds she made. Buffy did what she considered to be a pretty good imitation and listened as he rattled off what she had told him to someone else.

“How’s the gang?” she asked, when she heard Willow in the background.

“They’re fine. We’ve all been a bit overtaxed with a couple of feuds going on amongst the Slayers.”

“The Slayers are fighting each other?”

“Not an all out war by any means, but there has been hair pulling and gossip. You know how girls are.”

“Hundreds of mini-me’s running around ... I can’t say I’m sorry to miss it.”

Willow began speaking in rapid fire in the background and Giles asked Buffy to hold on. When he came back on the line he said, “Are you near the computer?”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to email you some photos that Willow is currently scanning. Take a look at them and see what you think.”

Buffy agreed, promised that she would try to visit as soon as possible, and went into the bedroom to find the laptop. She contented herself to search online, looking at upcoming movies and some music reviews, while she waited for the email to arrive. Five minutes passed before it finally appeared in her inbox. She quickly opened the attachments, waiting for them to load completely.

Another five minutes passed as she sat in stunned silence and stared at the face that had been burned into her memory.

The young girl who had blown herself into a thousand pieces was smiling back at her in the photo, looking exactly like she had in the bathroom at the airport. She looked at the next file, then the next, gasping each time she did so. There were at least fifteen photos of the girl, all with the same hair, the same cherubic face, but there were differences in the teeth, the nose, the eyes that made her realize that they were all different, yet the same.

She clicked out of the attachment and read through Giles’s email.

Buffy,

Is this the girl you witnessed? If so, it’s not just one girl as you may have gleaned from the photos. No one is sure where they originate, but the demonology tomes are full of accounts of the havoc they wreak. They are a type of fairy and not the kind that has been portrayed in Disney movies, although I’m fairly certain Walt Disney was a witch since he included so much of what is real into his stories. That, however, is a conversation for another day.

Fairies can be deadly. This particular sort is called the En Kindle. They explode, as you are well aware, when they reach a certain age or when they have been assigned the task of killing someone. Most of the times, news reports call it Spontaneous Human Combustion, but in all cases, the En Kindle has to be physically touching the victim. It’s possible that she would have reached under the stall and grabbed you or leaped upon you. I imagine that she simply ran out of time and nature forced her to erupt before she was able to attack you.

Know this ... once they set their sights on someone and fail, they will attack again. The attacks come in threes, as most things do, and if you survive the third and final, the task is complete and they will deem you worthy of life. They may not attack you as what they are, however. They can shift their shape and employ various other demon breeds who are enamored with them to do their bidding.

Working in your favor is the fact that they only have six days to complete the second and third attempts. If they cannot reach you or draw you out, they’ll move on. Not working in your favor is the fact that the woman and child who were in the room with you at the time of the explosion will likely garner their attention.

Call me if you have any questions. I hope that I have explained it fully.

Get some rest. You’ll need it.
Giles

Buffy read the email through a couple more times and then printed everything. Carrying it under her arm, she made her way to the office supply room and found a report cover to hold it all together. She stopped to make small talk with a couple of the women from the mailroom, who gave her a stack of letters and cards from her co-workers, and made a concerted effort to turn her frown upside down as she entered the elevator and engaged Harmony in a war of wits which she easily won.

The chaos that greeted her as the doors slid open was a sure sign that Angel was in his office. People fluttered back and forth, handing off files and books, they sorted through paperwork and arranged their desks. When Angel was away it was a completely different scene. People were usually engaged in online gaming, solitaire, or had their noses pressed between the pages of trashy romance novels. Buffy herself had participated in a game of Freeze Tag a few weeks earlier when Angel had flown to China.

She crossed the mayhem and tapped on Angel’s door, waiting patiently for him to open it. She was a little shocked when Spike pulled it open. His own shock mirrored on his face. “Hey,” he said, looking at her in confusion. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I thought you were using the sewers to track down that informant.”

“I finished early.” Spike reached out, touching the fading mark on her forehead. “It looks better.”

Buffy had a sinking suspicion that she had interrupted a conversation about herself. It made her uneasy and worse, it made her mad as hell. She stepped past him and walked to where Angel sat at his desk. “You know that girl who was probably just protesting the war? Turns out she wasn’t.” She tossed the literature on his desk. “I’m wrong about a lot of stuff a lot of the time, but not this.”

Angel picked the file up, flipping through it. He read through the email Giles sent and rose, pulling a book from the mass amounts in his personal collection called ‘Fayerye, Elfin, and Trolls’. He checked the index and turned a few pages, sitting back down at his desk.

Spike picked up the discarded file and thumbed through it, then glanced at Buffy. “You’re not leaving my sight for the next six days, pet.”

Buffy normally would have been touched by his concern, but she was actually quite annoyed that he had been consorting with someone she considered her enemy at the moment. “Apparently you didn’t read the part where Melissa and her son will be in danger if it doesn’t get a shot at me.”

“Not your problem.” Spike closed the file and handed it back to her. “I talked to Lorne. He told me that you sang for him and what he saw.”

Angel glanced up from the book. “What did he see?”

Buffy threw her hands in the air. “My god! Isn’t there some client privilege that says he has to keep stuff a secret unless I tell him he can blab? Don’t I have to sign a waiver or something?”

“No,” Spike told her. To Angel, he added. “He said that he saw her being killed on the beach. And apparently it’s not something she thought was important enough to tell me.”

“Lorne’s wrong,” Buffy shot back. “I was drunk when I did it.”

“He’s never wrong and I thought you stopped drinking.” Angel closed the book and looked up at her. “What he sees will happen, but he also gives you the tools to prevent it. What did he tell you to do?”

“Take two aspirin and call him in the morning,” she said with a shrug. When Spike made a move towards her, his eyes narrowed, she took a couple of steps back, putting the chair between them. “Okay, okay! He said that I should run if something attacks me.”

“That’s not all he told you,” Spike snapped. “Why don’t you tell him the entire story since I wasn’t good enough to hear it?”

Buffy stared at the floor, knowing where the conversation was headed. “He told me not to go out alone.”

“But you did anyway. You didn’t give me a single thought, did you? I can’t decide if it’s me you don’t care enough about or you.” Spike’s jaw was clenched so tight that his teeth actually ached. “Angel and I were talking and we don’t think-”

“I knew it!” Buffy accused. “If you want to say something about me then say it to me! Don’t go behind my back like a couple of ... stupid catty bitches!”

“Fine. I’ll say it.” Angel motioned at the chair, but she didn’t take it. “You’re not coming back to work yet. You’re not ready and I’m not entirely convinced that you’re in the right department.”

Spike noted the look on her face and hastily added, “But we’ll find you something, love.”

“What department would make you idiots happy? Is there a knitting department? With a padded room?” Buffy shouted, her blood pressure rising so fast that it caused her ears to ring. “I slay. That is what I was born to do and that’s what I’m going to continue to do whether you pay me for it or not.”

“We think you’d do well in ambush coordination.” Angel picked up a leaflet on his desk and held it out to her.

“Yeah, sit on my ass all day and tell other people how to attack things and wait for word that they’ve been killed. It’s not like I don’t have any residual guilt left over from all those girls dying in Sunnydale or sending Miles to an early grave. That would be the perfect job for me! If the guilt didn’t kill me the boredom would.”

“You could give it a try.” Spike took the paper from Angel and flipped it open. “You already know this stuff.”

“Yes, I do. And I apply it to my slaying.”

Angel held up another brochure. “How about the tactical field?”

“No.” Buffy could feel her heart pounding, feel the flush of anger creeping into her face. “I’m not changing jobs. Are you really trying to take away any credibility I have?”

“You don’t have a say in the matter,” Spike shot back. “It’s been decided.”

“Why?” She shouted. “I have more years, more kills than anyone in this place! You both are really quick to tell me that it’s not my fault that Miles died and then you fire me for it!”

“You’re not being fired.” Spike reached out for her, but she batted his hand away. “Buffy, you’re in over your head.”

“I have NEVER been in over my head! I have been doing just fine! It’s funny to me that the first night I DON’T do my job someone died!”

“That’s not the point,” Angel said quietly.

“Tell me what the point is, Angel. Tell me why I suddenly can’t do my job!” The feeling of dejavu was intense as she made the demand.

Angel held her gaze for several seconds, then he stood and moved around his desk, leaning back against it as if it were a casual, every day conversation and there wasn’t a very pissed off Slayer ready to hit him. “I don’t think for one second that you *can’t* do it, Buffy. What bothers me is that you won’t. We all know that you’re the most capable person here. You’ve proven it a million times and I kept my mouth shut while you did it. I watched you going out every single night, most of the time alone, occasionally taking Miles with you. I watched you skip meals, lose sleep, lose weight, and track of what you were supposed to be doing here. I watched you neglect your paperwork, neglect your friends, and heard all about how you were neglecting Spike straight from him.” He gave a small, subtle shrug. “I know you. When it comes to sending someone out in your place you’re gonna see Miles’s face in theirs and you won’t do it. You’ll go yourself and one night you’re going to be too tired, too weak, and too exhausted to beat it. Your job isn’t to go after these demons. As the manager ... your job is to make sure your staff gets it done. You won’t.

“I’m looking at you, Buffy, and *I* am seeing Miles. If you don’t like the departments that Spike and I talked about then pick your own, hell, create your own and I’ll pay you what you want. Just don’t ask me to put you back into the fire because I can’t do that.”

Buffy exhaled the breath that she had been holding as he spoke. His words hit close to home. Part of her recognized the truth in his words, but another part of her felt like she was reliving the past, when her friends had kicked her out of her own house because they felt she couldn’t do the job anymore. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but she did her best, clamping down on the lump that had formed in her throat as she did so.

Some things you knew as a Slayer and knowing when you could not win was one of them. She held out the information on the En Kindle demon and said, “I guess you’ll take care of this, then. Her name is Melissa Rainey and she lives in Santa Barbara. They’ll go after her next.”

“Listen, love,” Spike began, reaching out to touch her hand.

She pushed him away from her. “It’s fine. And don’t worry about what to do with me. I quit.”

*~*