Buffy smiled as the others argued around the table. The plan to create a home was working. Dru and that uncanny sight of hers always pointed the right way. How had Spike managed to put up with that for a century? She bit her lip and dismissed the thought.
Dru had told her to be herself and to let the rest go out with the wash. It turned out to be excellent advice.
Buffy looked around the room and smiled at these new people she was learning to love. She had started cooking. Homemade meals drew them in like flies. There was laughter and teasing. Triplett had to show off his knife skills to help make a salad. It was adorable. Even Melinda sometimes smiled now. It looked like she was swilling vomit when she did it, but it was a smile.
Phil held her hand casually. He was never going to be big with the public displays, but the casual touching was wonderful. After the initial gaping mouths and odd looks, the others had adjusted. She felt an odd spurt of hope. This could be her home. She could be with Phil and his team. She could belong.
Her mother's stew recipe had been worth remembering after all.
This odd assortment of individuals reminded her of a different group. She could see the similarities and the differences. She touched the scar on her side. She had to call Dawn, soon.
Skye was telling another Fitz story and the group all laughed. The boy would never live up to the hype, but the stories soothed Simmons. Buffy touched Phil's arm and stood up to get another helping of stew.
The pain hit, driving her to her knees. A slayer she didn't know was cut down and she felt the power surge through her as it returned. India. The girl had been fourteen and living in India. Buffy blinked.
Phil was kneeling next to her. His concerned tone of voice reached through the fog, but his words were meaningless. She tried to focus through the pain, but she couldn't draw a breath.
The next pain was worse. She dropped to the floor as slayer powers returned home too quickly for her to catalogue. Keeping count became an agony.
Phil watched Buffy convulse. Her body had been at this gruesome dance for far too long. There was nothing he could do, and he hated every seond of it. Simmons paled as another flurry of brain waves registered.
"These brain waves look nothing like Buffy's." Simmons stared at the scan. "None of this makes a bit of bloody sense."
It had been three days since anything had made sense. Three days watching the woman he loved writhe in pain had brought him to the point of breaking. He was only holding it together for the others.
His rag tag little group was suffering. Koenig paced outside the medical bay while Triplett ran laps around the facility. May had gone to Buffy's work out room to meditate. Skye sat in the chair and watched with wide, anguished eyes.
"What the hell is happening to her?" Skye stood up.
Coulson stroked blonde hair back from Buffy's sweaty brow. She was drenched with sweat. They were hanging bag after bag of liquid, trying to keep her hydrated. He watched the tears leak from her eyes. He knew she was in there, locked in her body.
"If we had an answer to that question, I'd have fixed it by now." Phil rested his forehead against Buffy's.
"She can't survive much more." Simmons sighed.
"It's all she can do." Coulson frowned. "She's immortal. She's died multiple times, but it never sticks. She is thirty three years old, but she looks ten years younger than that."
"Call her people." May stalked into the room. "They might know what's going on. They might be able to fix it."
"Give me her phone." Phil sat next to Buffy on the narrow bed and clasped her hand. He knew she'd hate this. He scanned through the numbers debating which one to call. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Forgive me."
He dialed the number.
"Buffy, where are you?" A woman's voice came through the line strident and demanding.
"She's safe." Coulson swallowed. "She's not responding to outside stimuli at the moment. Are you Dawn?"
"Yes. I'm her sister."
"I'm Phil Coulson." Phil looked up at the ceiling.
"Wow." Dawn took a deep breath.
"Yes, I was at the Battle of New York." Phil frowned. He hated when people recognized him.
"Yeah, that's nothing to the hell mouth." Dawn fired back. "You're the guy, the Thailand guy."
"Yes, I was with her in Thailand." Phil smiled. "Best week of my life."
"Leaving her was the worst decision of it." Her anger came through loud and clear. "When the Rogarth demon caused the miscarriage, I was sure we'd lost her, too."
"Yes." It wasn't a response, but Dawn didn't seem to notice. Phil clutched Buffy's hand to his chest as his world tilted on its axis. There had been a child, and she had never told him.
Her sister's voice broke through the haze in his mind slowly. He could hear her voice distantly. He knew there were words. Then she was clear again.
"She isn't safe. Some group is killing off slayers. We've lost at least thirty five in the last three days." Dawn took a deep breath. "Xander has got the ten youngest safe with Willow. Kennedy and Vi may have a few in Laos, but Faith and Robin are pinned down with the others in Cleveland. Giles and I can come and get her. Give me your coordinates."
"She's not in any condition to be moved." Phil ran a finger along Buffy's cheek. "She hasn't responded to anything in three days."
"Get the scythe. Put it in her hands. She'll get up. Have her call me." Dawn hung up.
