A/N: Sorry for the delay but term’s started and I’ve discovered that the only thing common between High school and junior college is that they’re housed in the same building. There might not be another update till the 28th because we’re having a Science exhibition and since I’m a science student it’s compulsory for me to participate. Don’t abandon me, please!

 

Thanks DoS for being the best beta ever.

 

 

***

Nothing is perfect. Life is messy. Relationships are complex. Outcomes are uncertain. People are irrational. --Hugh Mackay

***

 

“Is this because I wanted to give Mr. Dic…Don…whatever-son rat poison?” I asked, completely baffled. “Look, he was totally asking for it. He sat there for ages going on about how he can do five thousand push-ups in five minutes. I mean, who was he trying to kid? He was obviously suffering delusions of grandeur.”

 

“You tried to poison a patient!” Candish yelled, and I was sure he had put my eardrums in a fragile state.

 

“The keyword here is ‘ wanted‘ . I wanted to give him rat poison. I didn’t give him rat poison.” I deliberately spoke slowly, over-emphasizing each word, like he always did whenever he spoke to me back at St. Govain.

 

“Tell me, ‘Doctor’ Summers, if you were merely thinking about it, why would you assume that I’d come to know about it?”

 

I was quick to retaliate, “Wow! So, you really can’t read minds? Well, I’ll be a monkey’s aunt! You sure had me fooled.”

 

“I do believe that the term is monkey’s uncle.”

 

“Do I look like an uncle to you? I’m pretty sure my anatomy lacks certain features that are required for qualifying,” I snapped back.

 

I was enjoying this mini verbal war. See, this is why I need to go back to slaying. Nightly quippage adds spice to life, no?

 

“I would like to remind you, Miss Summers that I am your senior and under no circumstances will your impudence be entertained. I believe you should take your low class manners to the graveyard and to the beds of your diabolical lovers,” he spat.

 

Stuck up bastard! My allegedly diabolical lovers had a hell of a lot more class than him!

 

“I didn’t give you permission to comment on my love life!”

 

“Pardon me, but the truth hurts. Have you ever sat down and given it a thought? There must be something gravely wrong with you, Miss Summers, because you can never seem to hold on to your men. Even your soul mate, Angelus, decided to share his humanity with Miss Chase instead of you.”

 

Angel wasn’t my soul mate. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that there’s no such thing as soul mates. Souls are not required to love. However, I wasn’t going to say this to Candish; he didn’t deserve another second of my time.

 

I got up and moved toward the door, intent on leaving.

 

“I’m not done with you yet. I still haven’t said what I came here to say.”

 

God, this man infuriated me! I hate it when someone whom I can’t slay infuriates me. It unnerves me, makes me feel like screaming and breaking things.

 

“Miss Summers, you have worked hard to get where you are today. You are a very intelligent young woman. Genius, I am sorry to say, is ninety-nine percent perspiration and only one percent inspiration.”

 

I swear this man is a nutcase! First, he insults me, says I can’t keep my men and then goes on to say that I’d ‘worked hard’ only to contradict himself again.

 

“Didn’t you just say that I’d worked hard?  Isn’t that ‘perspiration’?”

 

He sighs, says my name and then takes a dramatic pause during which he fixes me with his God help me I am dealing with an idiot look

 

“You were a great slayer—some may say the best ever. You are a woman of action, very proficient in your work-–determined and fearless. You were a force of nature, absolutely amazing. There was no stopping you. You were and still are a legend. The one thing you never were, Miss Summers, was a scholar. Books had no lure for you.

 

“You have so much power surging within you, speed coursing through you, something more desired, more valuable than liquid gold, flows through your veins. How can you possibly sit for hours on end, diligently engaging in a task which has no requirement for these? You could not even be bothered to read the Slayer Handbook! Yet, you pored endlessly over numerous books the past seven years. How did you do it? Where did you get your ninety-nine percent perspiration?”

 

“I…you tell me.”

 

Candish turned toward the door and requested, “Miss Pablo, please come in.”

 

“Rosa…”

 

The longer this was dragging on, the more my confusion was increasing. What could Rosa possibly have to do with it?

 

Rosa was a Wicca. I’d met her shortly after moving to Rome. She lived in one of the orphanages run by Ti. It was due to my insistence that Giles hired her into the Watcher Council. Giles had said that there was no place for a ten year old in the Council but  I’d managed to sway him by arguing that some of our slayers were newborns (they didn’t actually do any slaying but would get Watchers and training, if they chose to, when they turned ten.)

 

Rosa had liked London but not as much as she had liked me. She spent a lot of time in Rome with me and when we moved to London, she practically lived in my house.

 

“You remember this?” Candish asked, passing me a vile containing a colorless liquid.

 

“Water? Vodka? Vinegar? How the hell am I supposed to know?” I demanded.

 

He gave me the God help me I am dealing with an idiot look again before stating, “It’s one of Miss Rosenberg’s concoctions. You see, in the early days of the new Council, there was a lot of information to be sorted through. A lot of the Council records had been destroyed but thankfully, not all. We needed to do inventory in order to determine what needed to be replaced and then all of it needed to be re-organized. Miss Rosenberg wanted to have electronic records that would be accessible to slayers from anywhere in the world. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the kind of manpower required for such a mammoth task.

 

“Miss Rosenberg came up with this brew to solve our problem. In the simplest words, it increases concentration. This potion combined with one that increased energy levels, allowed our researchers to work continuously for sixteen hours.”

 

“You are a Watcher? Of course you are! British, boring, bossy, batty, bespectacled, big words usage, blah taste in clothes…How could I miss it?”

 

“Please tell me that you actually heard at least some of what I said.”

 

“I heard all of it. Still don’t see what’s it got to do with me. Unless…You think I took that potion to pass my exams!”

 

“Not just for your exams, you’ve been taking that potion regularly for the past six and a half years. And before you open that mouth, I’m not accusing you of anything. Miss Pablo had been slipping you the potion without your knowledge, or at least she claims that you didn’t know of it.”

 

I was shocked. And I just made the understatement of the century. Rosa? Rosa could do this? Sweet, innocent Rosa?

 

“Buffy, don’t be mad. Please! I just wanted to help you. You were so mad at Mister Woods and I just wanted to help you show him…Please don’t hate me. I love you, Buffy. Please, don’t hate me, Buffy!” Rosa pleaded.

 

“I don’t hate you…but you…how could you…I trusted you…”

 

“You are very intelligent but you can’t concentrate on a book for longer than five minutes. Miss Pablo noticed this and decided to put her newly acquired potion making skills to use. She had your best interests at heart. She was but a child. A very foolish one, but a child just the same. She confessed to one of the senior Council wiccas last week because she feared long term use of the potion may have had adverse affects on your health.”

 

She didn’t think of that before feeding me the potion! God! I’d been getting drugged up for the past six and a half years and I hadn’t even noticed! What was wrong with me? I’d been living with the illusion that I was leading a perfect, normal life but turns out it had been majorly fucked up!

 

“It doesn’t…”

 

“Rest assured that your health has been in no way compromised. The potion does have certain undesirable effects. You see, as long as one continues to take it, everything is fine, but when use is discontinued, all that has been learned under its influence is lost. You won’t forget me, though. The potion was specifically brewed to help you in your studies. Hence, whatever you’ve learned through your textbooks will be lost to you.”

 

“How about college lectures?”

 

“Don’t tell me you actually stayed awake during those!”

 

I hadn’t. Mostly. There had been an odd lecture or two…but without what I’d learned from my books they wouldn’t have made sense. This was bizarre. Kind of like amnesia. What was the name of that type of amnesia…the one where you only lose select memories? I’d learned this! I had!

 

“Well, Miss Summers, now you know why you need to resign. You are no longer competent. I cannot actually report the matter to the authorities but I’m sure you will see reason. You are a hero, are you not? You will not endanger innocent lives.”

 

I was in trouble. If I quit I’d have to return the scholarship money, I’d be deported and not to mention unemployed and flat out broke. Where would I go? How would I support Dawn through college? I didn’t have any savings. Sure, we had had money, but not enough to save. It was like Sunnydale post-resurrection again.

 

Worse, actually.

 

At least I had a purpose then. What was I now?  A slayer who couldn’t slay? A doctor who wasn’t really qualified? A desperate girl who couldn’t leave this island because the man she loved was here?

 

I couldn’t move from my chair. Maybe I was in shock. But I was able to think, so did that mean I was not in shock?

 

I’d learned this, too.

 

Candish says he’ll handle my patients. I really don’t care. I decide to put off thinking until I have a talk with Willow.

 

I return home. Someone gave me a lift but I don’t recall who. At home, I take a cold shower and then I take the list of local butchers that Willow gave me. I call each and every one of them and discover that several people have accounts for regular delivery of blood with them, but none called Spike. I get them to describe their customers, nag them, call them again and again till they oblige. Finally, I fall asleep.

 

***

 

I didn’t want to talk to Willow. Not just then. So, I ignored her when she came home, quite late, last night. I thought it was late but couldn’t be sure since I had no clue about the time.

 

This morning too, I’m ignoring her, pretending to be asleep and waiting for her to go off to work.

 

“Buffy, are you okay? Is something wrong? Niko told me that you left the hospital early yesterday. Are you sick? Is this about Spike? Did you meet him? Come on, answer me. I know you are awake. Buffy…Do you want me to call you in sick at work? Buffy?”

 

She finally leaves. Give space—it’s one of the rules of friendship Wills has picked up in these past few years. I’m glad she has. Control-freak Willow is not really my kind of Willow. It may sound wonderful in fantasies but having someone ‘fix’ up your life for you all the time is not cool. My life is my own; I should be doing the fixing when things go awry.

 

I finally get up and go through the Sunday morning ritual even though it’s Friday and it kills two hours. I have a problem that needs a solution but I don’t want to think. I wish Spike were here. Where are you, Spike? Your girl needs you. She needs you so very much.

 

I’m not about to get any Spike-shaped comfort anytime soon so I hunt for alternative sources in the fridge and come across three tubs of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Though I’ve never met her, God bless Charlie and her desire to pamper my sister rotten!

 

Three bowls, the equivalent of fifteen scoops of ice cream later, I decide that I’ll speak to Giles about being a slayer again. An active slayer. I’m also going to talk to Willow as soon as she gets home. We’ll find a way to get out of this predicament, Scooby style…and we’ll find Spike.

 

Finding Spike is still at the top of the agenda.

 

My life will be perfect again. Almost perfect, because perfect is boring and it’d drive Spike crazy. We can’t have Spike crazy, no siree. So we’ll have an almost perfect life. Me and Spike. And Dawn and Becky and Willow and Xander and Giles and Rosa and Faith and Nicholas and Cordy and Angel and Destiny and Fred and Wesley and Gilbert and Melissa and Gunn and Lorne and Illyria.

 

But most importantly…me and Spike.

 

***

tbc

 

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