A/N: This came to me the very first time I watched The Girl in Question and was just about ready to kill my DVD player. I immediately came up with an alternate story line, because I couldn't stand the way it was and couldn't leave it like that.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy and Co. belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc. and the plot line belongs solely to my muse, who choose this moment to hit with a burst of inspiration.

Chapter One – Faces by the Bar

The club was dim, except for the sudden flashes of colored lights to accompany the booming dance music blaring from the DJ's station. Buffy sat at a semi-circular booth, staring dejectedly at the martini on the table, mocking her with its little umbrella. She lifted a hand and plucked it from its sanctuary inside her drink, before bringing it to her face, sticking her tongue out at its bright and cheerful colors, and throwing it onto the dance floor, where it was promptly crushed by a couple off to seek some privacy. She pouted. Tonight sucked.

No, she rephrased in her head, her life sucked. Ever since the great 'Earthquake' that brought Sunnydale into a giant sinkhole – honestly, did these people have any creativity at all? – she hadn't been feeling right. Everything felt… gray, drab, neutral. There was nothing left to brighten up her day, to make her feel like getting up in the morning. She'd left that back in the school where she had fought. Where she watched him give up his life. Where she fled.

Buffy was careful not to say his name. Every time she thought about him, a hole seemed to open up near where her heart was, its ragged edges taking great pleasure in causing her pain. She was learning to ignore it, though, because she had felt the same throbbing for Angel and Riley. Yet even Angel's hadn't lasted this long.

She had tried to take her mind off her pain by traversing Europe, dragging Dawn along with her. They went everywhere, sight-seeing and taking pictures of any one they could find. No one would have guessed that they had just saved the world a month ago.

The only place Buffy avoided was England, which was done so as if it were the Black Plague. Dawn noticed, and although she was disappointed, she kept her mouth shut. She could feel how much her sister was hurting, see it in her eyes every time they passed someone with a leather duster or silver lighter. But right now, she was dancing her worries away.

As Buffy watched her little sister on the dance floor, she shook her head in disbelief. Dawn's nail polish experiments had been upgraded to hair color experiments, which led to yet another bottle blonde in the family. She had also picked up some her sister's dance moves, which led to the male half of the club – along with a decent amount of females – staring at her. No one dared approach her, because it was obvious who she was with and that they were together.

At first, Buffy protested vehemently against her baby sister dating a guy who was immortal, but once she met him she decided to give him a chance. She liked the way he looked at Dawn – as if she were the only one in the world. Dawn looked at him the same way, although she was always saying it was just a little crush. The Immortal wasn't exactly known for keeping his women close to him for long.

Buffy sighed as she tried to get into the music and stared back down at her drink. It was a frickin' martini, for Pete's sake! She needed something stronger – Vodka, maybe, or that bourbon Sp-

She cut the thought off as her wound began throb painfully. She took a shuddering breath and glanced at the bar. There was no way she was going up there. She would leave, find some quiet little dark and dank bar, and hail a taxi home. It was Rome, after all. There were taxis here, right?

Buffy's gaze widened as two men stepped into her line of view. One was of medium build with gelled back platinum blonde curls, while his companion was larger with spiked brown hair. Her senses screamed vampire, but that wasn't unusual. There were plenty of demons in this club, and even more Slayers waiting both inside and outside, ready for the kill as soon as one isolated itself. She didn't even get to have graveyard fun anymore.

The two began to walk toward the bar, and her eyes were glued to the man with the leather duster.

The gait was so smooth, so common, yet so undeniably predatorial that it took her breath away. Her gaze was fixated on him as he strode toward the bar, other man in tow. He was a panther, she realized as she continued to watch. The other might be a lion – the faulty king of the jungle – but him… he was a feline made human. He was the essence of the hunter brought to life. And there was only one person she knew that could portray himself as that – Spike.

She shook her head, inwardly laughing at her own silliness. Spike? Spike was dead. D-E-A-D. Gone and never coming back again.

Suddenly she crouched over the table, grasping her stomach as if to keep inside of her. The wound had ripped itself open and was having fun playing havoc with her insides. She needed to get drunk. Now.

A/N: Well, what do you think? Should I keep going? Review please!

Also... looking for a beta. Anyone interested, PM me, review me, or e-mail me: yes, all those who liked Little People, the next chapter is coming up… relatively soon.)