Title: The French Connection
Author: Lily
Rating: PG to PG-13
Spoilers: Bargaining, but really only part one
Disclaimer: pshaw. not mine.
Summary: Yes, the resurrection worked. But no, it didn't wake Buffy up where she last was (that part seems to have gotten messed up, no?)...
Author's Note: *la la la* denotes Buffy thoughts

Bright light in her face woke Buffy up. Disoriented, she sat up and looked around. She was alone in a large bed, with the comforter pulled up to her neck. The room wasn't exactly neat, but it wasn't dirty either. And it was most definitely a guy's room.

*Why am I in a guy's room?*

She lifted up the covers just to check that she was not naked, and breathed a sigh of relief. She was in a baggy concert shirt and men's pajama pants. Still confused, but not quite so nervous, Buffy threw aside the covers and put her feet on the ground. The window blinds were Venetian, turned so morning light shone through the slats onto the floor and the bed. She made her way over, pulled the cord, and flooded the room with light. Adjusting to the sudden brightness, she peered out the window to the street scene below.

*I'm in Paris!*

Then that she noticed the white gauze on both of her hands and remembered the night before.

Opening the bedroom door, she stepped out into the living room. It was the same room as it had been the night before, but it felt a million times more welcoming with sunlight pouring in. Buffy took a few more steps and smiled. Stretched out on the couch was Oz. He slept soundly, still wearing his bluejeans, shirt, and socks from the night before. She approached him. He rolled over and she could see his expression. His calm face wrinkled.He sniffed the air a few times before smiling.

"Morning, Buffy," he said, eyes opening lazily. He sat up, stretching arms above his head.

"Morning." She nodded.

"Coffee?" he asked, standing up.

"Yes please," she said emphatically, and sat on the recently vacant sofa. The kitchen was small, only separated from the living room by counter space.

*Like Giles'*

She could see him as he walked in and measured out the coffee.

"How are you feeling?" he asked with concern from the other room.

"Like I haven't brushed my teeth in a few months," she said, only half joking.

"Well, we can't rule it out." He smiled and placed a tea kettle on the stove. "I don't think there's an extra toothbrush around here, but feel free to use the toothpaste, and we'll get you your own later."

"Sounds like a plan." Buffy stood again and found her way to the bathroom. Peering into the mirror, she saw that the bruises on her face from the night before were fading fast. She turned the cold water faucet, and picked up the toothpaste. Flipping the cap off the tube, she squeezed some onto the tip of her index finger sticking out of the bandages. But the sound of running water distracted her. She gazed at the liquid as it splashed onto the white sink.

*It's so beautiful...*

She swallowed in awe and remembered the awful taste in her mouth. Shaking herself, she quickly ran her finger over her teeth, filled a cup with water, and smiled at the mintiness. Rinsing her mouth out, she dried her fingers on a towel and went back into the living room.

Just as she walked in, Oz came out of the kitchen. He handed her a mug of coffee.

"None for you?" she asked, taking a seat on the sofa again.

"I've stopped drinking it. I'm all about tea now." He walked back into the kitchen and returned with a cup in his hand. He set it down on the living room side of the counter and leaned back against the wall.

She looked at him expectantly.

"I'm not going to deny that I'm extremely curious as to what's going on, especially how and why you're here, but I'm not going to ask you to talk about it," he answered her look.

She sighed and took a sip of coffee. "I died."

"Oh. When?"

"I guess it was...June? Maybe." She looked at him with surprise. "What month is it now?"

"Almost October," he responded, "and almost half way around the world from Sunnydale. I'm assuming it was in Sunnydale?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you the whole story sometime...after I've finished the coffee."

"Okay." He didn't push for more, but gazed at her over the rim of the tea cup. She drank some more of the coffee and then put the mug down on the table. Unable to sit still, she turned around and knelt on the couch to look out the window.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Oz was almost whispering.

"I guess. It was beautiful there too," she said sadly.

"Sunnydale?"

"No. Where I was between there and here. Another there. It was beautiful there." She turned and looked at him. "Why am I not there anymore?"

**end four**