"Good, because I hate it when people waste my time." All eyes turned toward the voice. It belonged to a woman standing with arms folded in the doorway of the dining room. She was tall and slender with dark brown hair falling thickly toward her shoulders, with intense eyes that looked out of place in her lovely face.
"You're the bounty hunter?" Buffy asked, looking at her dark jeans, boots, and snug leather jacket. The woman smiled ruefully.
"Expecting something else?"
"N-no," she said hastily. "You're just so… normal looking." The woman laughed. She held up her fingers and snapped. There was a sharp intake of breath as a small flame appeared at the tips of her fingers. She snapped again, and it was gone.
"Does that seem normal?" she asked.
"No," Buffy said, chastised. The bounty hunter looked around expectantly.
"Well?"
"Oh, right," Buffy said, remembering herself. "We need you to find someone."
"I only make deals with individuals," the bounty hunter said. Buffy swallowed hard.
"Fine. I need you to find someone."
"And do what with them?" the woman asked. "Kill, maim-"
"No, no, just bring him back here," she said hurriedly. The bounty hunter nodded.
"See, this is why I need you to be specific."
"Ok," Buffy said. "I need you to rescue a vampire from where the First is holding him captive and bring him back here." The bounty hunter's eyes narrowed.
"Go on," she said, watching Buffy.
"His name is Spike," Buffy continued, "he has platinum blonde hair and wears a lot of black." She looked thoughtful.
"Why does the Slayer want to rescue a vampire?" Buffy inhaled sharply.
"How do you know who she is?" Zander demanded. The bounty hunter rolled her eyes.
"I wouldn't be a very good bounty hunter if I didn't who the Slayer was," she said, as if it were obvious. "You have no idea how often something wants to hire someone to kill you." Buffy stared open mouthed at the bounty hunter.
"Have-have you ever-" she sputtered. The hunter waved her hand at her.
"You didn't answer my question," she said, staring intensely at Buffy's face. "Why does the Slayer want to rescue a vampire?" Buffy swallowed.
"He has a soul," she said softly. Something akin to pain flashed across the woman's eyes, but she quickly concealed it.
"Fine," she said brusquely, "hold out your hand."
"Wait," Giles said, "Buffy, you haven't discussed payment."
"I don't have much money," Buffy offered, "but if you give me some time I'm sure I could-" The bounty hunter laughed.
"Silly Slayer, I don't want money," she said, pulling a knife slowly from the inside of her jacket and sliding the blade across the palm of her hand. She held out the knife to Buffy. "Take it." Buffy held out her hand, hesitating.
"You haven't told me what you want," she said slowly, meeting the hunter's eyes. She met her gaze with a little curve of her lips.
"I'll let you know when I see it," the other woman replied. With a sign Buffy took the knife and slid it across her palm, making a point not to wince. The other woman took a step forward and clasped her hand tightly. Buffy couldn't resist letting out a grunt of surprise as their blood mingled.
"Repeat after me," the woman said solemnly. "By my blood-"
"By my blood-" Buffy repeated, watching the red drops drip onto the carpet.
"I do swear-"
"I do swear-"
"to uphold this bargain-"
"to uphold this bargain-"
"lest I rot-"
"lest I rot-"
"and worms consume my flesh."
"and worms consume my flesh." There was a burst of light around their clasped hands, and then the bounty hunter let go. Buffy rubbed her tingling hand.
"So that's it?" Buffy said. The bounty hunter nodded.
"Now I find your vampire."
"Wait," Buffy said, holding out her hand. "I don't know your name." The woman looked thoughtful.
"Call me Phoenix," she said, and coalesced into smoke, which disintegrated and disappeared without a sound.
"So that was creepy," Zander said, looking around the room.
"Buffy, are you insane?" Giles demanded, coming to stand beside her. "You just agreed to an open ended deal with a bounty hunter we know nothing about! You have no idea what she'll demand of you!"
"I know," Buffy said, flexing her hand and examining her palm. "But it had to be done." There was no scar.
***
"Well?" The annoying Irishman was sitting on her kitchen counter, his top hat askew. "You've got your proof. You know I'm telling the truth. Do we have an accord?" The bounty hunter stopped pacing and stared at the man who had popped into her life the day before and thrown hope into it, something she'd set aside over a century ago.
"Fine," she snapped. "We have an accord. I'll find your infernal weapon and get it to the bloody Slayer. But," she took a few steps closer, hand right hand igniting and pointing dangerously close to his face, "once I'm done playing puppet master, you had better come through with your end of the deal." The Irishman smiled crookedly.
"Oh course I will," he said, leaping lightly from the countertop and thrusting his hand out. She grasped it firmly with the burning hand. He tried to pull away but she held it firm. Sealed with fire and verse, she let go and put the fire out. The messenger walked out muttering and cradling his injured hand.
She sank to the countertop, letting her head rest against the cool granite. A soul? Of all the things he had to go out and do. Hope was a dangerous thing to have.